Family History
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!
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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
Dundee Pioneer Charles Blow A Hero at 94 Years Old
The Rock Island Argus
July 18, 1913
Page 9
***
HUSBAND, 94, SAVES WIFE FROM FLAMES
Stairway Crashes as Aged Man Bears Helpmate Away from Burning House.
***
Muscatine, Iowa, July 18
Heroism which parallels that of genuine fiction was exhibited by Charles Blow, 94 years old, from possible death in a fire which totally destroyed the residence of Mr. and Mrs. J. A. Contriman at Fruitland yesterday.
The aged people were in the home alone at the time of the fire. They have been guests at the Contriman home for the past several weeks, coming here from their home at Elgin, Ill. Their daughter, Mrs. Contriman was out in the pasture while Mr. Contriman was in the field.
The fire was discovered by Mr. Blow just as he had descended to the kitchen preparatory toward securing his breakfast. Considerable headway has already been made by the fire, a gust of flame enveloping him as he opened the kitchen door. Staggering from the noxious fumes he pluckily made his way upstairs where his wife was dressing. The aged woman was almost prostrated by the smoke which filled the upstairs portion of the dwelling and her husband practically carried her down the flight of the stairs. The passageway was dense with smoke and the two old people were compelled to fight their way to safety blindly. Flames singed the hair of both although neither was otherwise injured.
Barely a minute after they reached fresh air, the stairway crashed in.
The home was burned to the ground in its entirety. Nothing was saved. The loss to the furniture is estimated at about $1,500, while to the dwelling about $1,2000. The house was owned by Theodore Drake, a well known Muscatine Island resident. But a small amount of insurance was carried. The dwelling had recently been remodeled but since the improvements the insurance had not been increased.
Mr. and Mrs. Contriman had made their home in Fruitland since last February coming here from Chicago.
daughter of Charles BLOW
son of Maria Elizabeth BLOW
daughter of Frederick Judson “Fred” HOAGLAND
son of Helen Marie HOAGLAND
Me, the daughter of Frank Hunt BOSWORTH
Mr. Charles Blow and his wife, Lucy Flude Knott, are my 3x great grandparents.
Submitted by Tenderly Rose-Robin Melissa Bosworth Reininger
Dundee Pioneer Charles Blow Member of the Old-Time Jimmy-Pipers Club at age of 94
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
Frank Hunt BOSWORTH (1933 – )
son of Helen Marie HOAGLAND
Tenderly Rose-Robin Melissa Bosworth
the daughter of Frank Hunt BOSWORTH
Southern Sisters – Dona and Tenderly
I recently lost my best friend of over sixty years. She apparently died in her sleep leaving all of us who loved her dearly in complete shock and grief. I include Dona in my family history because she was as much a part of my family and in some cases more like family to me all my life. Dona Elise Sanders Richmond became my friend when she was born a year after I was. Our mothers were best friends, having attended Perkinston Jr. College together in the year of 1955-56. The photo below shows my mother, Janie Morris seated on the left and Dona’s mother, Shirley Reeves, seated on the right. This is the only photo I have of the two friends together, although, I believe there were quite a few others in my mother’s photo collection.
The earliest memories I have of Dona and me together were probably preserved by the many times our mothers discussed our early history with us as we grew up. We were told about the times we were just little toddlers when we would accompany our mommas to the beach and we played in the sand while they caught each other up on their lives after college. I seem to remember those trips to the beach – the beautiful Mississippi Gulf Coast – with our mothers. But, do I really, or are they from my imagination? Time has taken its toll on my memory after so many years, but, suffice it to say when Dona joked with me about being friends since she was “in utero” I readily agreed, and we would smile really big.
Dona grew up in the Orange Grove area of Gulfport – what I called “the country”. We didn’t get to see each other as much as we wanted because it required our mothers to navigate Highway 49 to get to our respective homes. There were some miles between us and we didn’t attend the same schools. So, if we got to spend the night with each other it was a big deal. We mainly saw each other when our mothers got together for various functions and life events.
Our mothers raised us in the Southern tradition of calling our elders by somewhat formal names. Dona’s mother was “Miss Shirley” or “Miss Sanders” to me as deemed appropriate by my mother and Dona called my mother “Miss Janie”. Her home was kept neat and clean, unlike my mother’s home (complete disarray). A trip to Dona’s home was like a breath of fresh country air to me. A trip to my house provided Dona with a bit of the city life, although Gulfport was not a big city, it still lent a sophistication Dona seemed to crave. I went to church with Dona every time I spent the night at her house. It was the law. It was always fun for me to hang out with Dona, thought, because she and I knew each other better than anyone else in our lives. We held secrets, dreams and heartaches deep in our souls that were shared forever.
When our dog, Hustler, a pedigreed boxer sired an “unofficial” batch of puppies with the neighbor’s mixed breed dog, Dona’s family adopted one of the puppies. Her daddy named him Cassius. Dona and I recently had a conversation about Cassius and how sweet he was. Loyal and fun to play with, just like his dad, Hustler. We loved that we had dogs that came from the same family. We loved out dogs. Cassius was the first dog I remember Dona’s family having.
The day I learned Donald Sanders, Dona’s daddy, died momma picked me up from West Ward Elementary school and we cried so hard I thought our eyeballs would fall out. He built our playhouse in Mamaw’s yard, as well as the house Dona grew up in. I knew him as a loving father to his kids, devoted husband to “Miss Shirley” and dedicated friend of our family. I remember being so shocked that Dona’s daddy had died, just as mine had a few years earlier. It just could not be. I don’t really think Dona was the same after that. She was so sad most of the time during our childhood. But, we laughed a lot, too, in spite of the sorrow. I enjoyed going to Dona’s to spend the night and play Barbies. Dona had her own room with a canape bed – white French Provincial and she had a great collection of Barbies that did not have their leg chewed off by her dog, like mine so often did.
Perkinston Homecomings through the years meant Dona and I accompanied our mothers to the gatherings and football games. We met all her mother’s friends and my mother’s friends, the administration of the college and the families associated with the college. It was homecoming for me and Dona, too. I don’t remember any of our siblings attending the festivities – just me and Dona and Janie and Shirley (Reeves). We loved the bulldog mascot out on the field at the football games and would laugh so hard at him. He just sat there, not moving, like he just was concentrating so hard on the games. We vowed to have bulldogs in our future lives.
There were photos take of us when we were growing up that I remember seeing in our mothers’ photo collections. I have none of those photos now, and Dona did not have any of them in our possession, either when we discussed this earlier this year. She told me she was going to go threw her mother’s stuff and see if she could find any. My mother’s stuff went through numerous hurricanes, so, I don’t know what she ended up with when she passed, but, they are as good as gone to me now. I do have this one photo of me, seated on the right side of the photo looking on as Dona blew out the candles on her 18th birthday cake.
Our friendship was anchored on the Gulfport shores to be sure, but, our friendship stretched thousands of miles as I left Mississippi in 1976, when I was 19 years old, to live in Wisconsin.
In 1977, I was preparing for my wedding to begin in Black River Falls, Wisconsin, when the florist entered the area of the church where the bride and bridesmaids had gathered to help each other get dressed. She was carrying one long-stemmed red rose. She told me her instructions were to present the rose to me just before I went down the aisle. I opened the card that was attached to the rose. It read, “I gave you the first rose when you were born, now, I am giving you a rose when you get married.” It was one of the more amazing moments of my life. Miss Shirley had sent a message from thousands of miles away that she loved me all my life and always would. She was there with me even though she was unable to be.
I was down on the Mississippi Gulf Coast in 1982 visiting my mother when I got a chance to talk to Dona. She told me she wanted me to come to her baby shower. I was pregnant with my daughter at the time. I was so honored to be at her baby shower and we pledged to betroth our two unborn children to each other and laughed! We kind of meant it, though. The photo below is from Dona’s shower.
When my grandmother, Rosie Smith Morris, died Dona was there when I came home to Hungry Hill for the funeral. I made sure I took photos of Dona and her sisters were in the ones I took of my family because they were my family in my heart, too. While momma and Miss Shirley were in the house, we young adults gathered outside to socialize a bit. The Sanders family were as much a part of our family as anyone born to our family. They were there to help us through the tough times of life as well as the good. Dona is seated in front of the hutch in my mother’s dining room at Hungry Hill in the following photo.
Memories have flooded into my mind and heart the past few weeks. Dona was my chosen sister and I’ll miss her like crazy for the rest of my life. She was one of the better angels of our world. Someone who supported and loved me all my life. I feel lost without her. My soul mate.
I’ll probably have to add stuff and update this post many times as I think of things to share. I know I’ve probably been repetitious in some respects, but, my mind feels foggy from the mental and heartfelt pain. I can’t imagine what her husband, kids, grandkids and friends are going through at this time. I am selfish and quite alone in my emotions right now. I just feel this huge void and little else. If I wanted to share my feelings with, it would be Dona. And now, she’s gone. I’m all alone with this grief because I live far, far away from the Gulf Coast and her loved ones.
This blog post has been sort of rambling and I know it is long, but I find the writing difficult because I find it hard to focus. How do you write about such an icon in your life and narrow it down to one blog post? So, I wrote about Dona here on my blog. She loved the written word ever bit as much as I did. Our favorite book was To Kill A Mockingbird and our favorite movie was “Gone With the Wind” — she called me “Mellie” for the character Melanie, and she called herself “Scarlet”. We shared so much about literary works and wrote our feelings out in journals all our lives. Writing is therapy for some folks and that is just another way of coping Dona and I shared.
Peace be with us all…
I’ll end this by providing a link to Dona’s Blog so you can read for yourself what a special gift she was to our world:
https://donaelise.wordpress.com/
And just a few old photos I have to share…
“If there ever comes a day
when we can’t be together,
keep me in your heart,
I’ll stay there forever.”
(from Winnie the Pooh)
And that’s what Dona and I did…
Submitted by Tenderly Rose-Robin Melissa Bosworth-Estrada Reininger
Chicago Police Hunt Biloxi Dentist
Chicago Daily Tribune
May 05, 2937
Page 13
*****
CHICAGO POLICE HUNT MISSING BILOXI DENTIST
*****
Wife Delays Operation and Flies Home.
Chicago police were notified last night of the disappearance of Dr. Wilder M. Bosworth, 34 years old, a Biloxi, Miss., dentist who has been missing since Sunday night when he started for Chicago by automobile to be at the bedside of his wife, who was to have had an operation in the Presbyterian hospital.
When the dentist did not appear Mrs. Bosworth had the operation postponed and flew home to Biloxi to join her two small children and aid in the search.
Finds Husband Gone.
Upon her arrival there she learned her husband had gone to visit a friend, Dr. W. C. White, in Birmingham, Ala., on Saturday and had left Dr. White’s home on Sunday and had left Dr. White’s home on Sunday evening for Chicago, saying he was going to drive all night.
Both the dentist and his wife are members of prominent Elgin families. Dr. Bosworth’s parents died a few years ago. Mrs. Bosworth is the daughter of Mrs. G. Mabel Hoagland, 225 Walnut avenue, Elgin, who said she had heard nothing from her son-in-law.
Shot in Roadhouse Gunfire.
Eight years ago Bosworth, before going into dentistry, had a narrow escape from death while entertaining a party of friends in a roadhouse on the Lincoln highway in North Aurora. He was shot and critically wounded by Emmett Lyons, moonshine crazed caddy master of the Aurora Country club.
Note:
From another newspaper clipping about this fiasco in my collection, I learned the Bosworths had moved to Biloxi from Florida a year earlier and Mrs. Bosworth was the president of a coast committee for the advancement of world peace.
This story was picked up by the Associated Press and went nationwide. Some of the newspapers I’ve found it in are: Anniston Star of Alabama, Centralia Evening Sentinel of Illinois, Register Republic-Rockford of Illinois, Freeport Journal Standard, among others.
As reported in a 1941 Biloxi Daily Herald, a divorce suit was docketed for Wilder Morris Bosworth and Helen Hoagland Bosworth stating “Cruel and Inhuman Treatment Listed as cause for complaint”. I learned the date of their marriage from this newspaper clipping, I had searched for quite a while for that. My father Frank had listed their divorce date in his family history notes.
Dr. Wilder Morris Boswoth , D.D.S. and Helen Hoagland Bosworth were my grandparents.
Submitted by Tenderly Rose-Robin Melissa Bosworth Reininger
West Jr. High School PTA Talent Show Ticket 1972
Note: “Student must be accompanied by parent at night show”!
A Visit to Altus by Mamaw
1970 West Wind Newsletter from West Junior High School, Gulfport, Mississippi #2 of 3 Issues
Enlarged photos and transcription of entire newsletter. Full digital copies of newsletters follows transcript. Published May 1970. (No date on copy.) Entries are entered exactly as written in the original newsletter by the students who were on staff for the paper – no corrections or additions were made. My mother, Jane Morris Estrada, was a teacher at West Jr. High the years I attended school there. — T.Rose
John R. Harkness Contract for Corner Building of Lameuse and Pass Christian Streets in Biloxi 1893
January 14, 1893
The Daily Herald
Biloxi, Mississippi
—-
Excerpts from:
LOCAL HAPPENINGS
—-
“If the gentleman who lost his upper teeth under the Herald office stairway, during the holidays, will pay for this notice he can recover the lost property by calling on Pete DeJean, at Little Gem saloon, who has the aforesaid teeth in his possession.”
—-
“John R. Harkness, the old reliable builder has the contract fort he erection of a two story building on the corner of Lameuse and Pass Christian streets, which, when completed, will be occupied by Mr. Herbelin, who has recently moved here with his family from Covington, La.”
John R. Harkness was my maternal great great grandfather.
“Second Mamas” at U. S. M.
During my first year of life as Tenderly Rose Bosworth, I was part of the Home Economics Dept. The students took care of me as part of their studies. My mother continued her studies there at the University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg. (then Mississippi Southern College)that year, living in a dorm. I stayed in the Home Ec. building. It is possible I earned a degree in Home Ec before I was a year old.
Momma often told me the story of football players at Southern spending time with me while waiting around for their girlfriends to finish up classes. She told me it was said that “The way to a girl’s heart is through Tenderly Rose”. I was never lacking for attention!
The Tenderly Rose Collection 