Alfred Bosworth’s Letter to His Brother Hezekiah
Dundee Kane Co. Ill. Jan. 7 AD 1846
I must say I have for a long time neglected to wright to you. When I left you I was soon unwell and not willing for my son to leave me. After leaving Warren I was soon in Pittstown. I was in Pittstown 7 or 8 days. My hoarseness and cold wore off.
Brother Nathaniel took me to Adams and about to see his children.
I left Pittstown and went to Gorham, Ontario where Judge Child lives and his children. I was in Ontario County 6 days. They took me about the county to see some relatives and old acquaintances. I was on the Fourth of July in Canandaigue Village. The people was celebrating the Fourth of July.
I left Ontario ounty for Hanover in Chautauqua county where my daughter in law and three little children lives. I was with them 6 days. She has a good house and lot and some money at interest. I went from Chautauqua to Michigan State. There I stopt to see Mrs. Bosworth’s relatives.
From Michigan I went to Chicago and I arrived home in Dundee the 22 of July. In looking over my journey in 2 months and 2 days I traveled near four thousand miles in the time, visited a number of relatives and friends. It was a consolation to find my relatives enjoying good health. Mrs. Bosworth and my children enjoyed good health the past year. My health in September and October was poor but through Divine Goodness my health is now good. I see it stated in some of the western papers that the health of the people was for 2 or 3 months the last year poor in the great Valley of the Mississippi but now good.
The farmers in this country have been blest with good crops the past year and the short crops in Europe helped them to an advanced price for their produce. This country is increasing fast in population and wealth. The people are enterprising and of industrious habits and respect the Sabbath. There is in Dundee Baptists Methodists and Presbyterians preaching. There will soon be a railroad from Chiago through Dundee to Galena.
I have just received a newspaper from Leonard Waldron. I received it as a favor. I must come to a close I never was a ready wrighter. If I had a been I would have wrighten to you all, and much oftener than I have done. It is seldom that I take a pen in my hand. I will be 73 years of age….months and I do feel a degree of thankfulness for the health and blessings that I have enjoyed. I have had some unpleasant feeling about Sister Usher’s living alone in her advanced age.
I do wish that my near relatives might see this letter for I cannot wright to them all–and I do hope that some one of the number will soon let me hear from you all. I have just received a newspaper from Leonard Waldron. I received it as a favor and I have sent in this letter a five dollar bill No. 141 the Ontario bank, Canandaigue. Brother I wish you would take this money and pay the Bristol printer for a newspaper one year directed to A. Bosworth, Dundee, Kane co., Ill. Give the balance of it to our Sister Waldron. In so doing you will oblige a brother.
I must close and leave room for Mrs. Bosworth to wright a few lines. Now we want four or five or six of you to come out and see us and see where we live. Such a visit would be gratifying to all.
son of Alfred BOSWORTH
son of Benjamin Franklin BOSWORTH M.D.
son of Franklin Smith BOSWORTH
son of Frank Hunt BOSWORTH
son of Dr. Wilder Morris BOSWORTH Sr., D.D.S.
“Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.”
I was born a Bosworth, but, my parents divorced before my first birthday and I never knew my biological father until I graduated from high school. So, my “Daddy Jim Estrada” is the father I knew as my special angel when I was growing up on the Mississippi Gulf Coast as an Air Force brat. My Daddy Jim adopted me when he married my mother – I was just a little tiny girl about 2 1/2 years old. I remember so much about him. He was a wonderful daddy to me. Sadly, he was killed as a pilot flying in the USAF flying Strategic Air Command program when we were stationed at Bunker Hill Air Force Base in Indiana. I was just six when a terrible accident happened. He was flying in a B-58 (“Hustler”) bomber. One day I’ll write the story of my Daddy Jim. I am just as devastated today by his death as I was when I was told he was killed. It is a difficult thing to remember back to his death, but, it is a story worth telling as it colored my whole life and my perceptions of life in general. Little girls need their daddies.
Photo of my grandmother as a young woman fresh out of nursing school at Rockefeller Hospital. Cir. 1915. She was born and raised in the Mississippi woods. She was the daughter of John George Smith and Mary Jane Rice of Seminary, Mississippi. Rosie was a private duty nurse and registered nurse at Kings Daughters Hospital and Gulfport Memorial Hospital. Her daughter, Jane Morris Estrada, was my mother.
BIRTH: 8 DEC 1895 • Seminary, Covington, Mississippi, USA
DEATH: 31 MAR 1984 • Gulfport, Harrison, Mississippi, USA
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 is that very little is left of the neighborhood I grew up. When I was born, I came home from Memorial Hospital to that home the Morrises built in 1935. That house and yard will always be my home. I had hoped to return to Gulf Gardens to finish my days there as both my grandmother and mother did. This is not to be. Cherish the old neighborhoods. Remember the folks who lived and loved there. Our spirits will never leave there. Gulf Gardens was truly “Home Sweet Home”.
We take for granted, sometimes, that which is steady and true…
— Tenderly Rose