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Post by blackfeather on Mar 31, 2017 0:02:59 GMT
The family was sitting around talking of old times and late relatives when the subject of uncle Elmer came up. "We never hear any stories of what uncle Elmer did in his life" one of the kids said. I was at a loss, he was born in 1887 he came here to live when he was 5 year old, but as far as I know he did nothing memorable in his life. At least nothing I was told about. The kids complained that he must have not amounted to much because he left no stories of his life.
I went on to tell them that that might not be a bad thing. I reminded them of his sister Cora. How grandpa Frank came out to do chores early and found a ladder up against the house to Cora's bed room? As it turned out when great grandpa Jacob went up to see what was going on he found a fellow by the name of Roy in bed with her. Now it is true they were to get married but against great grandpa Jacob's wishes. He wouldn't even go to the wedding, he said he had to plant oats that day. Grandpa Frank, Cora's older brother ended up giving her away.
I went on to remind them that it didn't end there. A few years later Roy brought home a special a gift for Cora, and Cora went to the doctor to see if she could find a treatment for it. From that time on Cora refused to keep house for him. "So you see," I told them, "not having stories to tell might be a good thing because many times it is the bad things that are remembered."
Now there is one story about Elmer but that happened after he was dead. So I told the kids the only story I knew of uncle Elmer. Here it is.
Uncle Elmer had grown up on this farm and his last wish was that after his death that his final service should be preformed on the farm. So he was delivered to the farm and my father awaited instruction as to when the service would take place. As it turned out Elmer's wife had hooked up shortly after his death with another man and with Elmer's insurance money they took off for California together. No one else in the family seemed to be able to arrange the time for the service, everyone was busy or their schedule conflicted. My father didn't want Elmer in the living room so he moved Elmer's remains into a store room temporarily till the time could be worked out.
It was about 15 year later in the mid 50's that the store room was cleaned out and uncle Elmer came to light. After all this time it was obvious no one was going to do anything about him, so my father took him out and buried him in the corner of the property.
Over time the sliver of property he was on was sold to the neighbor. The neighbor died and the property was resold. I suppose some day I should inform the new neighbor that uncle Elmer is buried on the corner of their property.
So maybe he did nothing in life to be remembered by but after he died at least there is a story to tell. The story of uncle Elmer's ashes.
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Post by joebill on Apr 1, 2017 20:56:55 GMT
Now you have me feeling guilty. My friend Mike is still in my wife's desk drawer waiting for me to finish his tombstone. Until now, it has been to cold to pour concrete so i have delayed it, but it's time to build the form for the old-timey headstone and fence the grave, get him situated underground....Joe
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Post by Ozarks Tom on Apr 1, 2017 22:22:14 GMT
I think if you go back through anyone's family far enough you'll find some "interesting" people. Our family, on my father's side is full of them. Probably to most notorious was "Uncle Bob", whose real name was Ragnar. He was a traveling salesman from the late '20s to '50s when he finally married. His favorite story was about the time he got in a fistfight with Lawrence Welk over a red headed singer in Welk's band (late '30s I believe). He sold high end leather goods, and even during the depression did well. During the War he took a hiatus and sold retail. A pool shark who liked to flash big diamonds, you never knew if he was drunk or sober.
My dad was the oldest of 10 boys and one girl, Bob being the youngest. When the family started to die off, I remember Bob saying at a funeral "you know, we all ought to get together some time while we're all sitting up".
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Post by joebill on Apr 2, 2017 0:39:17 GMT
My Dad was the only boy baby who survived birth for more than a few hours, and he had 4 sisters who covered the distance between classy lady and migrant fruit picker as adults. One in the middle provided me with something like 7 uncles by marriage at different times. She married and divorced one of them twice.
Another one in the middle got real fundamentalist religion and was lamenting over her sister's propensity to marry everybody she met, and what an embarressment it was to the family, and I could see my dad trying not to laugh. I asked him what was going on later, and he told me that the paragon of virtue, when she was younger, got picked up too many times in illegal speakeasies, was declared a prostitute (she wasn't, just a gal who liked to party) and for a year or so had to be picked up monthly by the county health department in their marked vehicle and taken into Terre Haute to be checked for "social ailments". He said he thought that was just a mite more embarrasing to the family.
The sons of the migrant fruitpickers, when I asked them where they had been working when we were all boys, could only tell me what they had been picking. They had been "down in the cucumbers" or "over in the peaches" or whatever. As a kid, they seemed pretty normal to me, but later I learned that one of them had married a young lady, but took her back to her parents and dropped her off after a couple of days of honeymoon. When asked "WHY?" by his mother, he told her that the girl had a "dirty mind".
Both sides of my family were a pretty interesting cast of characters. I guess we should have shot a movie before they started dying off.....Joe
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Post by joebill on Apr 2, 2017 2:57:34 GMT
Might as well finish this. My maternal great grandfather also returned his bride to her parents, but it was because she showed up pregnant, and he had no use whatsoever for children. He packed her up in the buggy and took her back, but as happens, her mothier had died and her father had remarried a girl just about her own age, who was also expecting.
Making the best of things, they each delivered only a few days apart. They took turns doing the housework and nursing the babies, one day on, one day off. Each child got a double dose of immunity from two diffferent women, and my grandad, who was born right after the civil war, died nearly 100 years later, not having seen a doctor for over 30 years until shortly before his death. He might have lived a lot longer if they had not insisted on taking him away from his home, but he was out of his element when they made him live with a daughter and her new husband, and just laid down and died.
Nothing in particular wrong with him. Official cause of death...."old age".
My theory; pass those babies around and they will live a lot longer, but it is only a theory.....Joe
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Post by blackfeather on Apr 2, 2017 13:57:15 GMT
Skeletons in the closet are some of the best family stories. Sadly my family has a lot of them. Great Grandma would steal anything not nailed down and sometimes she'd bring a crowbar to even get stuff that was. She was a horrible mother had 12 children and 6 survived. At the same time in history my father's side had 13 children and 12 survived. After her first husband died she shacked up with another, could never show proof of being married. When he got paid they'd take his pay check and take off for Buffalo for the week ends to live it up leaving my grandpa at 8 years old to cook for his younger siblings. At 10 she farmed out my grandfather to a couple who couldn't have children. He had chores to do and they fed and clothed him. They raised him up to be a descent man, being farmed out was the best thing for him. Now her "second husband" used to take off to aunt lou's place when they had fights and she'd have to go get him. Aunt Lou lived in Lockport here and how shall we say it, she was a business woman. When the family went to visit her the kids never understood why she always visited her guests in her bed room. My great grandma did have one talent she could play the piano, she used to play for the silent movies, she'd watch the movie and make up the appropriate music to go with the scene.
On a side note, not only is uncle elmer buried in the corner but three children from the Wheeler family that owned the place at first are buried there. Now my mother and father are buried in the flower garden, when their ashes were brought up from Florida I took a post hole digger and dug graves for them. I bought a stone and placed it over the graves. The nice thing with ashes is you can do most anything you want with them on your own land. I plan on being cremated and buried next to them.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2017 17:58:03 GMT
Now you have me feeling guilty. My friend Mike is still in my wife's desk drawer waiting for me to finish his tombstone. Until now, it has been to cold to pour concrete so i have delayed it, but it's time to build the form for the old-timey headstone and fence the grave, get him situated underground....Joe All this mention of cremated remains, especially the underlined sentence above, reminds me of a Night Court episode: Everyone is trying to figure out where the cremated remains of some guy went, as as the urn is missing... [Judge Harry Stone's office] Dan Fielding (lawyer): "Just made some herb tea, anyone want any?" [Dan drinks the herb tea.] Fielding: "...this tea is horrible!" Harry: "What tea?" Fielding: "The stuff over the coffee maker there. [points at urn]" Harry: "That's not herb tea, Dan, that's Herb!" The look on Fielding's face is priceless.
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Post by themotherhen on Apr 2, 2017 17:58:55 GMT
blackfeather , I had an aunt, Aunt Bill, that was a "business woman" too. I was 35 years old before I knew what that phrase meant. I guess I was sheltered :-)
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Post by DEKE on Apr 2, 2017 21:15:18 GMT
Since we are telling stories about ashes...
My god daughter's husband's grandfather passed over a couple of years ago, in his mid 90s. He lived in Daytona as did 2 of his daughters and associated grandkids and great-grandkids. A couple of his other children and descendants lived elsewhere around the country.
Grandpa's dying wish was that he be cremated and his ashes spread on the farm of his youth near Ashville, NC. His death had been a long time coming, most everyone had had a chance to say their goodbyes, so when he passed, he was cremated and it was decided there was no need to rush to have a memorial service.
By the time everyone had made their travel plans, about 60 days had passed. Some flying, some driving, all needed hotels since there was no longer family in Asheville. The farm's new owner had been contacted and permission was granted for the family to meet, have a memorial service, and then spread the ashes on the farm.
Thirty-some of grandpa's children, inlaws, grandkids, and great-grandkids made the trek to Asheville. Early the next day, on a beautiful spring morning, the family slowly gathered at that farm where they were greeted by the friendly farm owners. From where they parked, it was a 30 minute walk to a natural area where the farmer assured the family that grandpa's ashes could be spread amongst the trees and lie undisturbed by the farming activities.
And so they walked. It was a somber time, but as is so often the case, it was also a joyful family reunion. Along the walk, the oldest of grandpa's kids pointed out what little was known and remained of family landmark's, like the hill where grandpa's birth house had been. The farmer shared some history of the farm and what he knew of the farm's families that had proceeded his.
When they had found just the right spot, where the farmer and family could all be happy, they gathered in a circle. Many were holding hands; some were crying. And that is when a young child, in a small quiet voice, asked a question that no adult among them was prepared to answer...
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"who's got Grandpa?"
As you can imagine, there was finger pointing, "I thought you...," and several mumbled curses. But eventually there was a lot of laughter as the family realized they had just performed a "Grandpa's Funeral" adaptation of the movie, "Home Alone". Grandpa had remained behind in Daytona and was late for his own funeral.
They held their memorial and appointed one person to retrieve grandpa from Daytona and return to the farm at a later date to spread the ashes. And as it should be, no one in that family will ever forget grandpa again.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2017 1:07:45 GMT
I came across this poem on a poster for sale at a tourist shop in Niagara Falls, New York many years ago. I did not buy the poster, because the poem did not reflect my beliefs. However, I could never forget its sans souci (carefree) gallows humor.
Why Worry? - An Irish Poem,...author anonymous...
Why Worry?
In life there are only two things to worry about: Whether you are well, or whether you are sick.
Now if you are well, You have nothing to worry about.
And if you are sick, You only have two things to worry about: Whether you get better, or whether you die.
If you get better, You have nothing to worry about.
And if you die, You only have two things to worry about: Whether you go to heaven, or whether you go to hell
Now if you go to heaven, You have nothing to worry about.
And if you go to hell, you’ll be so busy shaking hands with your friends, that you won't have time to worry.
So Why Worry?
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