Dundee Pioneer Charles Blow Member of the Old-Time Jimmy-Pipers Club at age of 94
One of my favorites!
This is an advertisement featuring Charles Blow of Dundee Illinois.
4 May 1915, Decatur, Illinois
The text insert located on the lower left-hand corner of this advertisement, just under the drawing illustrating Charles Blow, states:
“This is Charles Blow of Dundee, Ill., who tips the scales at 94 years. Mr. Blow is today, and always has been, a man who smoked his pipe liberally–and enjoyed it mightily. Mr. Blow qualifies for the Prince Albert “old-time jimmy-pipers club” and has been elected to full-fledged membership. We would like to hear from other old-time smokers.”
Charles Blow was married to Lucy Flude Knott
“Wings of Angels”
https://www.ancestry.com/family-tree/person/tree/5680810/person/-1416081224/facts
Charles BLOW (1820 – 1919)
My 3rd great-grandfather
Maria Elizabeth BLOW (1854 – 1953)
daughter of Charles BLOW
Frederick Judson “Fred” HOAGLAND (1880 – 1961)
son of Maria Elizabeth BLOW
Helen Marie HOAGLAND (1907 – 1965)
daughter of Frederick Judson “Fred” HOAGLAND
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James Knott 1804–1874, Elgin’s Grocer
James Knott – Grocery Store Advertisement “The Past and present of Kane County, Illinois : containing a history of the county, its cities, towns, &c., a directory of its History of Kane County, Ill. – The northern counties gazetteer and directory, for 1855-6 – November, 1855”
When James Knott was born about 1804, in Leicester, Leicestershire, England, his father, Thomas, was 13 and his mother, Anna, was 17. He was married three times and had three sons and two daughters. He died on March 5, 1874, in Elgin, Illinois, at the age of 70, and was buried there.
James KNOTT (1804 – 1874)
My 4th great-grandfather
daughter of James KNOTT & Deborah FLUDE
daughter of Lucy Flude KNOTT
son of Maria Elizabeth BLOW
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The Ghosts of Gulf Gardens Come Alive in Daily Herald article by Geoff Pender
Gulf Gardens
Gulf Gardens
Gulf Gardens
Gulf Gardens
Gulf Gardens
Gulf Gardens
A birthday party in Gulf Gardens, Gulfport, MS, for Tenderly Rose at 1711 Wisteria Street. Circa 1958.
I would like to personally thank Geoff Pender of the Daily Herald for this article. My mother, Jane Morris Estrada was interviewed in the piece. I learned things about the neighborhood I grew up in that I’d not been aware of and I also was reminded of the unique and very precious experiences I had as a child in this Gulfport community. Since the time this article was published, much has changed for this neighborhood and many of the fears of the neighbors have continued, even worsened. I can tell you Gulf Gardens was an American dream that bore amazing fruit. The Gulf Coast was a much better place to have had such a place called Gulf Gardens. The heartbreaking truth…
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Francis Cooke 1583–1663: Mayflower Passenger
Francis Cooke
1583–1663
Mayflower Passenger
daughter of Francis COOKE
son of Jane COOKE
daughter of John Experience MITCHELL
daughter of Elizabeth MITCHELL
daughter of Jane WASHBURN
son of Joanna ORCUTT
daughter of William EDSON
son of Keziah EDSON
son of William HARKNESS
daughter of Capt. John Rankin HARKNESS
son of Edna Irene HARKNESS
daughter of John Harkness MORRIS
the daughter of Janie Lucille MORRIS
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These Days… my angels in the sky are visible…
It seems my life has become sort of this song… I have this background music sometimes in my life. Always been this way as long as I can remember. I remember the day my Daddy Jim passed away when I was just a little girl. I was standing out in the yard at Hungry Hill (Mamaw’s house on Wisteria Street in Gulfport) crying and thinkin’. The song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” played in my head as I looked far into the sky looking for a plane that would not be there because he was killed in that plane. In those days, all military planes could have my Daddy Jim in them. I was to have started the first grade in Indiana that year. It was summer, July. We were stationed at Bunker Hill A.F.B., but, since Momma was pregnant with her fourth child, Daddy Jim had left us in Gulfport with Mamaw so she could help with Momma and us kids. He had to go on alert or maneuvers, whatever they called it. But, when his B-58 killed him, we had received the news down there in Gulfport. The men from the Air Force showed up at Hungry Hill in their dress uniforms all formal. The chaplain was there. The grown ups around me had fallen apart, hands over their faces, tears in their eyes. Momma got sick and took to the bed in the front bedroom. It was hot, as Mississippi summers can be in July.
I went outside to get away, to be by myself. Someone else, a kid, was with me, but, I never remember who it was. My sister? We stood and looked in the sky because I knew if Daddy Jim was dead or alive, he was going to be up there in the sky one way or another. I see a rainbow in the sky in this memory. Was that real or imagined? These days I tend to question if I wanted to see a rainbow, so I did. I was so very close to my Daddy Jim, being quite a bit older than my siblings he had spent so much time with me while Momma tended to my siblings. And now, the main person I had loved and bonded with so much after he adopted me as his child when he married my momma, before the other kids came along… he was gone??? He was my hero, my Daddy Jim.
So, these days, I have been outside a lot gardening, walking two miles a day for my health – I have lost 70 pounds over the past year or so – but, anyhow, these military planes are frequently in the sky as I go about my life. There have always been, but, for many, many years I chose to tune them out, try to ignore them, at times even hated them for the presence in my life when I just wanted to put that whole thing in the past. Yes, I went through a phase in my life when I even could not stand the thought of the military at the same time I was probably one of the most patriotic, do-the-right-thing kinda gal supporting our military because my Daddy Jim had given his life for it. This conflict, this annoyance, this necessary denial to be able to go on with life and try to forget my Daddy Jim because it always still hurt to have lost him. A daughter never outgrows the need for her father in her life. Never. Even after they grow up, and their daddy is long gone, there are times in life you still need that big hug and snuggle. The pain never lessons or goes away.
I think, in my case, because I never had the support or help to overcome that loss, it has crystallized into that long ago memory for me of standing in the yard alone, self soothing with the music in my head, the soft Southern breezes on my face as the tears rolled non-stop down my face and I am stuck there. I don’t know how to go on. This affects how I deal with all the losses in my life. I have gone on, covered up and buried the losses because I did not have the time or support I needed to heal. I just went on, kept dealing with life, family, work, whatever to forget the bad stuff and go forward. But, each time there is a loss, it just piles up onto the rest of the the tragedies in my life. Now, at this late stage in life I find myself putzing in the garden or out walking in the woods and the thoughts filter through the books I have chosen to listen through on my cell phone and the thoughts pop up. I like to read biographies, memoirs. Last week I was listening to one of Oprah’s audiobooks and the week before I had listened to Senator John Lewis’ book. Those books started me really opening up this box I’d stored away in my heart and mind. This time in my life, I believe, will be what my life has brought me to examine. That little box of hurt and treasures. Good and bad, but, a box of healing. I am getting old now. And there is time for this venture. And I am embracing it.
So, these damn military planes are on their maneuvers these days flying over and around my house here in Western Wisconsin. Like pesky flies they blast their mach noises into my heart. I don’t want them there at first. Then, one day, I look up and kind of had a flash back of sorts. I picked up my right arm and saluted that military plane as it flew so low over my yard and home. I started crying as I lifted that arm and held my hand up to my brow, not to keep the sun from my eyes, but, this time, I realize I am saluting that military plane almost feeling my Daddy Jim’s hand over mine, shaping my hand into that salute he taught me to do when I was little. I felt it, it was him, standing behind me, holding my hand into that salute position. And it was the most wonderful feeling! He was there with me and we were watching the planes just as we had at Bunker Hill Air Force Base in Indiana the year before he died.
A healing began that day, the planes passing over my home here in Hixton, Wisconsin. I am so grateful to those planes passing over my house so low this summer of all summers. I hear the sounds and I know where to look in the sky because of the mach phenomena – they are always seen before the sound, not after. I salute them, this little girl inside of me salutes them and this is my way of overcoming so much of that pain of loss even all these years later – 60 years later the healing has begun.
I ordered myself a t-shirt online that says “Military Brat” and one that has “Keesler Air Force Base” for the time I spent there as a military brat at day camp and at the medical facilities, the commissary, the Officer’s Club holiday meals, the life and times I continued even after Daddy Jim’s death, until I was 18 years old and was deemed a military brat. Well, I had have never outgrown that title. I denied it for years, but, that title will always be true. It is part of my family history and it is me. I can no longer deny these things and I am embracing them as Daddy Jim’s legacy. I am proud of that legacy.
These days I am saluting the planes in the skies over my life with a deeply heartfelt gusto as never before. And I cry. I cry my heart out. And it feels good even through the hurt, it feels good. I get an excitement in my heart when I hear the planes up there. They keep me company – I feel they are my support I needed all those years. I live in a rural area that is somewhat isolated compared to many folks. I have come to think of these military planes as my special angels and they are there to remind me of how special I was to my daddy. I am so grateful to them for their presence. It is hard to describe this transformation in my life, but, I’ve done the best I can here in this blog that morphs from one thing to the next.
This is healing… this is welcome at this time in my life. Amidst a global pandemic of COVID-19, I can stand on my country home grounded, all alone, and yet feel protected and loved by some damn military planes in the air space above. It is an incredible feeling and an amazing gift from above. I can see and feel a mighty presence in those skies. They are MY angels as they always have been.
With much appreciation and love from a little military brat grounded for life, at an early age, in the knowledge she is loved by somebody in the sky. Faith, hope and love comes in many different forms for all of us, right? These days, my old heart smiles at the “Wild Blue Yonder” and “off I go”! I am not alone. Strategic Air Command has always been there for me, not just for the United States, but for me personally. Thank you for being my angels watching over me all my life!
———-
These Days
I don’t do that much talkin’ these days
These days
These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
For you
And all the times I had the chance to
I don’t think I’ll risk another these days
These days
These days I seem to be afraid
To live the life I have made in song
But it’s just that I have been losing so long
Count the time in quarter tones ’til ten, my friend
And now I believe I’ve come to see myself again
Count the time in quarter tones ’til ten, my friend
Please don’t confront me with my failures
I’m aware of them
My Westie – A Great Family Dog!
Remembering Napoleon (“Polie”) Nov. 04, 2004 – Oct. 28, 2019
Playing with the grandbabies back in the prime of his life… my West Highland White Terrier was the perfect family dog.
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My Aunt Alice Visited Me After All These Years… And I Think I Know Why
My Aunt Alice Visited Me After All These Years…
And I Think I Know Why
I woke up this morning with my Aunt Alice on my mind. At first, I had no idea why she came to me. But, it was fun thinking about her and her love for me was comforting. I thought of all the fun we had I had when I visited my Uncle Dad and Aunt Alice Morris in Pineville, Mississippi – an area of what was “country” to me in the Long Beach area of the Mississippi Gulf Coast. When I was a girl, they lived on the property established by Aunt Alice’s father as a dairy farm and business. Her folks were still living there in the house – the Franks – and I enjoyed visiting with them and getting to know them when I was younger. The Franks were good people! I thought their farm was paradise. There was a large pecan grove, a big barn, outbuildings and plenty of animals. Glorious!
At one time, my Uncle David started raising quail in the big barn. He would let us go out and look at the quail operation. He sold the quail for meat. When it was Easter time, we brought quail eggs back home and dyed them just for fun. Quail eggs are pretty small, but, they are beautiful! We boiled them and dyed them along with our regular chicken eggs. My grandmother, Mamaw, would even pickle quail eggs. I would bring home quail eggs and twice used them as elementary level school science projects that landed me in the city-wide science fair. Once, I made first place! I loved raising the baby quail I hatched in my little incubator. Uncle David and Aunt Alice were proud of me.
My Aunt Alice had a smile that radiated through her eyes – the joy shone through. She had a way of making me feel good about myself. She appreciated the way I would watch over her little girls as a big sister would. This would give her some freedom and rest for a little bit. She and Uncle David had four girls – my sweet cousins – built in best friends. But that is a handful! Did I mention Renee and Rhonda’s spunkiness? It was a thing. A FUN thing. I felt close to that family and they loved me ever bit as much as I loved them. It is something that is hard to put in words sometimes. I can hear the laughter still today and it has been many, many years that have passed since I saw last saw my Aunt Alice and her girls together.
On the occasion of my high school graduation, my Aunt Alice gave me a questionable and definitely unexpected gift that made me scratch my head. (I have to bust out laughing every time I think about it now.) She gave me a sea-foam green negligee. I was shocked! I hate sea-foam green, always have. Sea-foam green reminds me of hospital walls. The negligee, well, okay, then. I would not know what women wore those things for until a few years passed. I was still in my flannel phase when it came to pajamas. Momma, a Southern Baptist, was floored. I opened it and very appreciatively and respectfully gave my sweet Aunt Alice thanks. She was so proud! She fully expected to flabbergast my mother, I could see it in her eyes. She meant to rile my mother up. She laughed! She said that I would need that in the years to come. Aunt Alice was full of life and passion! Enough said. I loved her all the more for her gumption. I don’t remember ever wearing the negligee and I don’t know what happened to it. I suspect my mother intervened, don’t you?
Although I never got “preached to” by her, Aunt Alice had a way of conveying her spiritual beliefs and I went to church with the her and Morris girls a few times when I spent the weekends with them, which was several times a year. And. I. Loved. Going. To. Pineville. I loved going to their little church in Pineville, too.
I felt freedom at the Frank/Morris farm. I fell in love with everything to do with country life. Even mucking out the chicken house. But, I felt the true sense of what it was like to grow up with a momma and daddy at a time I was living in a fatherless home. I saw the love in Aunt Alice’s face when she was with Uncle David. I learned from her that you could love a man whole-heartedly even when you disagreed with him. And I saw my Uncle David’s love for Aunt Alice. I saw she loved her parents very, very much and they loved her. It did my soul such good to see a family living together. Two generations with much respect going both ways. Aunt Alice had a good soul and shared her joy with all of us.
Uncle David and Aunt Alice did love their beer on the weekends. Uncle David turned us girls lose in the pecan grove with big burlap sacks and told us to pick up pecans that had fallen on the ground. He gave us fifty cents for a full bag. The bags were waist high on me and I was the tallest one of us kids in my family and theirs because I was the oldest. That was a lot of work, but, it was fun. I have never forgotten the smell of the pecan grove. I don’t know how to describe it, but, I have dearly missed it. Every fall, is still pecan time for me. I noticed Uncle David and Aunt Alice would leave us in the grove (right next to the house) and they would go drink beer with Momma and Mamaw on their front porch. Momma and Mamaw did not drink beer. At. All. They had coffee, thank you very much! That must have been a respite for all four of them to let us run wild while they rested from work.
The days I am thinking’ of were before the youngest daughter was born. She was born when I was around 17 and I loved to hold her. But, even after the youngest was born and was a toddler, I went camping with them on the Wolf River on our Uncle Johnny Morris’ private property – it even had a beach! They loved to fish, I loved to swim. Heaven. Some of the best days of my childhood were spent loving the Morris cousins and my beloved uncle and aunt. They were so good to me. I associate the word “freedom” with that family.
My Aunt Alice and Uncle David married when she was just 16 according to Mamaw. He was a tall and very handsome man. She was a stunning beauty. They both had the most beautiful eyes and smile. I did some of Aunt Alice’s family tree in connection with my family tree on Ancestry.com. Her ancestry was fascinating and her family history surprised me because I knew so little, really, about her background. I remember associating the Franks with German background when I was growing up. And I seem to remember some sort of foreign accent with Poppa Frank, but, that memory is now too far away in my mind and I may not be remembering correctly. I just know that marriages were strong in that family. And family was everything…
Except… the bowling alley (and church). I was luck enough to be the one in my family that got to hang out with the Morris cousins the most. They would pick me up and we’d all go to the bowling alley in Gulfport. My aunt and uncle were dang near professional when it came to bowling. They were in leagues. That was professional in my mind. They had their own bowling shoes and bowling ball. I was so going to have my own bowling equipment one day. I wanted to follow in their footsteps. But, actually, when they were bowling, they were all business. They won prizes for bowling while I ran with their daughters as what I now would call being “bowling alley rats”. We played in the background and I kept an eye on my cousins as my aunt and uncle seriously bowled. They were in tournaments. I was so amazed at them.
Aunt Alice went to tech school to get her diploma in medical records transcription. She went to work at Gulfport Memorial Hospital. She was “smart-as-a-whip”, as my mother liked to say about her. All four of my Morris cousins were smart-as-a-whip, too. I saw my Aunt Alice as a “women’s libber” and I saw she raised her daughters that way, too. She did not take any sh*t from nobody. That was something I admired in her. She could have a hot-temper, but, only if it was deserved. She had a strong will and a strong mind. I hope I have incorporated Aunt Alice into my life. I think I have, but, I could use more of her personality in my life. She knew how to have fun. I miss her laughter. And the expressions she made with her face. She could be so funny.
My Uncle David was in the Air Force and was a staff sergeant at Keesler Air Force Base. I remember visiting him at his office at Keesler. I was raised an Air Force Brat, so, anytime we had to go to the doctor, it was to Keesler A.F.B. hospital and clinic. Uncle David’s office (in an old barracks building) nearby. He was very handsome in a uniform I must say! Aunt Alice was proud of him, I could tell even if she did not say it out loud.
So, this was all in my head as I lie in bed this morning thinking about her. Sometimes I feel the angels in our lives come to us in the nighttime. Are they truly guardian angels? That is what I believed as a child. I think it is true now as well. I feel them the most in the morning and sometimes during the night. I will experience the need to get up and write about the special one I have on my mind. I think they are there for a reason. They seem so fresh in my memory. No years have passed, we have not aged. Sometimes I cry because I miss them so much, but, comforted that they have come back to visit.
In the 1990’s my mother sent me a precious ceramic figurine one year for Christmas from Mississippi when I lived in Palm Harbor, Florida. She said my Aunt Alice had made it in her sister’s ceramic shop. I had no idea Aunt Alice was crafty! Such painting talent! Is Aunt Alice’s spirit attached to that ceramic cow? All these years I have kept that Holstein cow on my kitchen window sill, until sometime a year or go I had moved it to my dining room hutch fearing I might accidentally break it. But, yesterday, I moved the cow back to my kitchen window sill, to make room for a little memorial shelf dedicated to my little Westie, Polie, who went to Rainbow Bridge last week. Was she sending me a sign that she was happy to be back on her window sill? I often thought of her as I washed dishes. Did she help me fix the memorial for Polie knowing she loved critters as much as I do?
Did Aunt Alice come to me to comfort me after the death of my sweet little doggie this past week? She passed years ago. I had not thought of her for some time, since the cow was no longer on my kitchen window sill, and now she shows up at a time I am feeling very spiritual about my dog. She was one of the great animal lovers in my life. She always had a dog or two hanging around on the farm. She re-homed our mean Shetland Pony and told me the pony drank coffee with her on her front porch. She loved him when he bit most of us kids. This is why I woke up and went straight to my laptop to record my memories and thoughts of her, so I would not lose them. I smile because I am comforted by thinking of the love Aunt Alice and Uncle David gave me. Without a doubt, I am grateful and I am blessed.
And now, the cardinal couple just appeared at my bird feeder. Angels watchin’ over me…
Alice Claire “Frank” Morris (11 AUG 1938 – 13 OCT 1999)
A Vacation From Blogging – Life Got In The Way
I took a break from blogging out of necessity. Life got in the way. I have enjoyed creating and maintaining this blog and I didn’t want to slow down or even stop. But, you know how it is, my mind would be consumed with survival during some choppy waters in my life. We all go through these periods, and usually the hard times don’t come one right after another, but, sometimes we get hit with tidal waves that knock us of our feet. We struggle to get back up, but another wave hits and another. It feels as if we will drown, but, keep trying to rise up to the surface. I am a good swimmer. I love to swim, so, fortunately, after repeated attempts, I have risen to the surface and am back to blogging.
It took the death of my beloved West Highland White Terrier to make me realize I needed to write and share my experiences with others. And I realize this is a blog about family history and genealogy, but, I have always shared a little bit about me here from time to time. I have included some childhood memories and some school days trivia and memorabilia. I got to thinkin’ that the post I published yesterday about Polie, my Westie, was maybe family history after all. I realized our cherished pets are family to many of us. And I thought about how I wanted to share more about my biography and life events. Blogging is easier to me than writing a book, so, why not write about my life these days a bit and continue to write about my family of origin, share some fun photos and stories about life in general.
Genealogy can be dry and it can be a little boring if you just have facts and no information about your ancestors’ personalities. Don’t you always wonder about your great aunt or great great aunt’s daily life or hobbies? Did she just go to church all the time as all the genealogical information you have found seems to imply? Was she really as sweet and devoted as her obit describes? I am often left with the feeling I would love to have a visit with these folks in my family tree. Let’s face it… you can visit ancestors in the cemetery, but, it leaves you stone cold (as in monuments) and sort of empty. Names and dates on a gravestone. What were their daily lives like?
I often think, as I wash dishes in my sink, wouldn’t it be fun to have your ancestor with you to see the modern conveniences in your kitchen? My great grandmother did not have running water in her house. I think: Wouldn’t it be neat to show her my sink with a faucet with hot and cold water, adjusted just to the right temperature, that flows into the basin of that sink over my dishes? I would think she would either be astounded in a good way, or perhaps, frightened by all these new things? I like to think she would get a kick out of spending time with me in my kitchen. She could teach me how to make a pie crust. After all these years, I would have someone to teach me first-hand how to make pie crust! I was told by one of my mother’s cousins, Billy, who grew up with my great grandmother, that she made wonderful pies, but, that she put too much sugar on the top crust. (How could that be a bad thing? Ha! Ha!)
I asked Billy if she was diabetic, because that seems to run in my family. He said that he didn’t think so. But, my grandmother, (her daughter) would not get tested for diabetes, so, how could she know. My grandmother was a nurse, but, she had a weight problem that maybe shamed her into denial. I asked Billy if Grandma Mary Jane was heavy-set, or overweight. He said no. Stuff to ponder. Perhaps I got my weight issues from a different family line. Maybe my father’s side? I just wonder things like that pretty often as I go about my daily routine. I have also wished I could go back in time and spend a day with one or more of my ancestors.
Census reports are great and wonderful tools for family history, but, they lead me to more questions about my ancestors. I want to see them as human beings, not statistics. Then it happened. My kids gave me one of their Amazon Fire tablets last Christmas. They were upgrading to newer models. I have to say it is the best Christmas gift anyone has ever gotten me, including The Beatles sweatshirt I got in 7th grade! They knew I had long been curious about how those gadgets worked. Since I had started having some health issues and not able to get out and do stuff as usual, this was a great way to spend some of my time. I was also having to deal with a sort-of hospice situation with my little dog who was very ill at times, this Fire tablet helped with the depression I’d felt as I went through these difficult times. I really wasn’t even able to sit with my laptop and work on genealogy or blog or “surf the net” without it being painful.
As I got acquainted with the Fire tablet, I explored all the literary advantages. I signed up for Overdrive using the local library card to access the resource. I had always loved library books and spent much of my life reading most everything I could (I yearn for knowledge!). I live in the country, so the library is an inconvenience for me these days and bookstores are an hour’s drive to and an hour’s drive back to my home. Until now. Lots of books make me feel rich! This IS a common thread in all my family tree lines… they loved to read and owned lots of books, published music sheets, hymnals and were highly educated. Many of my ancestors were teachers.
I, of course, have fallen into Prime reading, Kindle Unlimited and just recently I have delved into Audible. It is magical!!! Free books galore! Historical books, novels, biographies, such a huge world to escape in while I worked on feeling better and tending to my little dog. I set my goal on Goodreads to read 100 books in 2019. I didn’t pay much mind to that until the other day I discovered I had read 174 already! Astonishing. I have now had physical therapy that enables me to stay at my computer desk for longer periods of time and have begun to get caught up. So, I began hankering to blog again.
When my sweet little dog passed a week ago yesterday, as you may understand, there has been this huge heartbreak and this enormous void of time I’d spent toting him around, giving meds and holding him wrapped up in his afghan I’d made for him. I was feeling completely lost, empty, bewildered, devastated. I’d lost many pets in my lifetime and I knew this one would be perhaps the worst because he has had to be there for me as the adult children have grown busier and busier and the grandkids had grown up, too — high schoolers! This little dog was my world. My source of kisses and lovin’ I no longer got from family, or, even my husband who had his own health issues along with mine and the dog’s. I knew this would be tough. I had decided long ago that I would not bring another pet into my home when Polie passed. He was my third and final Westie. If you know the breed, you know they can be challenging. That was something I totally loved committing to when I was younger. Well worth the challenges! But, now, in my early 60’s, I just don’t have the stamina and strength to bring another pet home. So, this is the end of an era when it comes to my lifelong love of pet family. The emptiness is very painful at this time…nothing that a few decades won’t ease the pain just a little bit.
As I sat in my chair, the one with the dog bed no longer aside, I had cried my eyeballs out and I looked around. I heard the pet memorial wind chimes and I thought positive thoughts about Polie still being here with me — I hear his collar jingling still from time to time and I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eye — I decided to return to my blog with yesterday’s post. I decided then, that I would write more about my life. Which, if you think about it, really is family history because it is about my biography I would write to my kids and grandkids. It will be the sort of stories I would want them to know about my past and my family of origin’s past. There is a really amazing story to how I came to be against all odds. And apparently, I am some sort of mega survivor. And I think this may be a good way to share family history of the not-to-distant past. I do plan to restart my older ancestry research. This has been a 40 year hobby for me, so, I can’t give it up. But, I want to share more about my story and it is an interesting one that a few of my friends have said would make good Hallmark movie material. Ha! Ha! We would always laugh, but, it is true.
I think this may be a gift to me from my little dog, Polie, though. I think he is nudging me along with his little black nose and he is with me when I write. When I take my therapy walks everyday, I have dedicated those to him as well. I has been super hard for me to return to walking. Polie was my walking companion. I can’t stand walking without him. Anyway, that is a little of what I’ve been up to since my blog went silent for so long. I had withdrawn into my own little world with a lot of heartache knowing I would lose my best friend and doglet, Polie. And the world is changing so much for me as I face the future without kids or grandkids nearby. I am fairly isolated living in the country, would love to move to more civilization, but, that does seem to be an option. So, here I am again, folks. I’m back!
—–
My little West Highland White Terrier Has His Wings
My sweet little boy, Napoleon “Polie”
(11/04/2004 – 10/28/2019)
Polie never loved the camera perhaps because is took my attention away from him? Or maybe he could not see my eyes when I was focusing on him? We talked through our eyes many times. In this photo, he had stopped to lick, or kiss, my camera lens.
Polie normally preferred stuffed toy squirrels to this plastic hamburger. But, one day he took a likin’ to it and flipped it up in the air, ran around the house with it and wore himself out with it. Then, he didn’t touch it again for years. I guess he’d killed it and there was no more work to be done in his smilin’ eyes. Or maybe he learned to prefer the real hamburger to the fake.
One day during a snowstorm, things slowed down for a bit. Polie and I went out to play. I started taking photos of the record snow fall – it was beautiful! But, when I looked down, I could not see Polie and I panicked, my heart leapt out of my chest – he was lost and the snow plow was headed down the road. I started yelling and yelling his name. No response. After a few minutes, I stood still and heard Polie’s collar (he spoke to me often by jingling his collar, he was not much of a barker). He apparently had been down at my feet the whole time, but, the sun had come out so brightly my eyes had not adjusted and with a sparkly white little doggie, they are camouflaged in the clean white snow. I was so happy and so was he although he did not quite know what the celebration was all about but if Momma was happy, Polie was happy.
Polie enjoyed my grandson, Brett, walking him on the leash. He was a great walker, trained not to pull and very patient with all of us. Great family dog!
My grandkid, Kenzie, with Polie exploring the corn filed. So much fun!
Napoleon LOVED the grandkids. Even when they got older and weren’t around as much, he still looked for them when he heard cars pull in the driveway. He was very loyal to them, and sometimes I felt like he treat them as if they were his puppies. Very paternal. I believed the best times Polie had in his life were the ones we got to spend time with the grandkids. We went on many adventures together and he usually got a bit of their corndogs when they were not looking.
In this photo, Polie had rolled in some turkey poop and was quite pleased with himself as you can see by the pride in his demeanor. It was not my favorite time with him when it happened, but, today it makes me smile and giggle a bit to remember what a little “stinker” he could be. Ha! Ha!
This is my all-time favorite photo of Polie – on Lover’s Retreat (or Castle Rock) here on our property. We loved to go for hikes and climb the hills (Highlands!) or explore the woods. In this photo, he had climbed up onto the sandstone rock formation and was proud of his independence from Mom. Good Times!
This photo was taken last year in 2018, last winter, and Polie was growing so much older and achier from arthritis in the cold months. He had cataracts in his eyes and was mostly blind and he was very hard of hearing. Later on he developed bladder cancer. It’s been a hard year for us. Rainbow Bridge was beginning to be in our future. What a sweet, sweet boy always and forever!
Polie, like I like to remember him in his better days… he was a beautiful dog and a wonderful, wonderful companion for me. He was my doggie-son and I am devastated to lose him, but, relieved he no longer suffers. I will meet him at Rainbow Bridge and remains with me as a spirit right now. It has been a week since he died. Life is so much harder to live without my Polie.
His Westie wings were ready,
my heart would never be…
W.T. Harkness and the Peoples Bank Building of Biloxi, Mississippi – Mystery Solved!
Interesting blog post to share. Great job by “misspreservation.com!
https://misspreservation.com/2019/06/11/who-designed-biloxis-peoples-bank/
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My comment about the post…”W.T. Harkness’ father was J.R. (John Rankin) Harkness, an architect by education from Pelham, Massachusetts. J.R. Harkness was my Great Great Grandfather. The family was a Biloxi pioneer family who built many of the Biloxi buildings long since gone and undocumented as told to me personally by my Great Aunt Stella, J.R.’s daughter.
Perhaps you ran across that newspaper clipping from my blog here on Word Press? I have researched and posted extensively about the Harkness family. I grew up knowing, thanks to Aunt Stella, the Harkness family built the building known as the People’s Bank. I can assure you no tantrums were at issue in this family’s history as they were instrumental in the progress of their beloved Biloxi.
My blog is The Tenderly Rose Collection. That is where that newspaper clipping was originally posted about W.T. Harkness. It had never been available until I began my documentation of the Harkness pioneers.”
Delta Zeta Carolers – 1974 USM Chapter
Hattiesburg American
December 24, 1974
Hattiesburg, Mississippi
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Delta Zeta Carolers
Delta Zeta sorority members take a break at the home of Mrs. C. C. Sullivan, grandmother of Delta Zeta pledge Carey Sullivan, while making their Christmas spirit count. The truck-borne chorus sang carols in many areas of the city and in return asked for donations of canned food items which were distributed to needy families in the area. The girls are, from left:
Front—Brenda Fayard, Gulfport; Carey Sullivan, Hattiesburg; Cheryl Roberts, Yazoo City; Beth Mayo, Hattiesburg, and Vicki Jones, Ft. Walton Beach, Florida.
Back—Cheryl Moffett, Fayette, Arkansas; Sandra Reynolds, Jackson; Ann Thompson, Jackson; Tenderly Estrada, Gulfport; Dianne Tyner, Corinth and Beth Stanford, Pascagoula.
(Photo by Bob Waller)
The Tenderly Rose Collection 