tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37865083874958036132024-02-20T20:30:07.147-06:00Keeping the Story AliveSharing genealogical resources, stories and techniques from one determined researcher to others.J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-21116812708865912012023-12-20T13:11:00.000-06:002023-12-20T13:11:08.501-06:00Looking at the Schneider Family of Cedar Hill - following the 1902 Letters to Santa from their Children<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Today, we are backing up to December 1902.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are Letters to Santa from the <i>Nashville
Banner</i>. These letters are from children who grew up in the town of Cedar
Hill, Tennessee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A railroad town located
on the Edgefield line of the L&N railroad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let’s look at their requests:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Old Santa <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- It
is only two weeks now, until you will make all good little boys like me a
visit, so I will tell you what I want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
would like for you to bring me a large wagon, tow story books, a saw, a large
engine, a bag of marbles, a baseball mitt, nine roman candles, a pack of fire
crackers, some torpedoes, a sky-rocket, and of course some candies, oranges,
and nuts; be sure and come. Your little friend, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Tom Schneider – Cedar Hill, Tenn.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB09ic_lC3DAZt4Xs2gt9bYpgFkxcR135wjnxdigunQ9YGauL-qd8slJ94S4RnvXDrQMw78BshhINlBTZrR3F41CrWH87t6BTlTZryx-V8kALBxp9K_x5Pobh0LFiXxt3z7liJQcyxnekVPMYSduoWM7GitQw-nymwI3PtW6cE56IQ7Uf3MC1ErOQGDS8/s5980/JThomasSchneider_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5980" data-original-width="4744" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB09ic_lC3DAZt4Xs2gt9bYpgFkxcR135wjnxdigunQ9YGauL-qd8slJ94S4RnvXDrQMw78BshhINlBTZrR3F41CrWH87t6BTlTZryx-V8kALBxp9K_x5Pobh0LFiXxt3z7liJQcyxnekVPMYSduoWM7GitQw-nymwI3PtW6cE56IQ7Uf3MC1ErOQGDS8/s320/JThomasSchneider_.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><o:p> <span style="font-size: medium;">J. Thomas Schneider attended school in Cedar Hill and graduated in 1917 with B.A., University of the South, Sewanee, Tenn. He was commissioned second lieutenant, United States Army in 1918, and servied as an Artillery officer in the American Expeditionary Forces, France He became the Information and staff officer, general headquarters, American Expeditionary Forces, France. through 1924 He became to Aide to General John J. Pershing the next year. He graduated from Harvard University with a law degree and resigned from the Army. He practiced law for several years, and was appointed Counsel for the Reconstruction Finance Corp. and its subsidiaries. From the years 1943-1949, he became the General counsel, Standard Brands, New York, N.Y.</span></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1952. he was appointed the Assistant Secretary of Commerce for International affairs and later became the Coordinator of Field Offices, Antitrust Division, Justice Department. Upon his death he is buried in Arlington Cemetery, near the grave of General 'Black Jack' Pershing. </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://findingaids.loc.gov/db/search/xq/searchMfer02.xq?_id=loc.mss.eadmss.ms007088&_faSection=overview&_faSubsection=did&_dmdid=" target="_blank">Finding Aid to his Papers at the Library of Congress</a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.trumanlibrary.gov/library/oral-histories/schneidr">Interview with Mr Schneider held by Truman Presidential Library</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51iEus-RghNeALzAoYhOevzC-xyMsUFYlx9xzvCjCQDdGKLRFO0DfLZWqnVLkvjZAoDE4Bk-_oYiJizPaJXwP4wi-CK4Aw9H0D-nMVLWufrFGEIizQXTMBweSkWuklSVtxwVb9XUOSvb33ZLHZ2u0pr6XZGbP6uO5XhsIT0QBF7NefSIHrxOIT31Yyxo/s4178/ElizabethSchneiderRichardson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4178" data-original-width="3010" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51iEus-RghNeALzAoYhOevzC-xyMsUFYlx9xzvCjCQDdGKLRFO0DfLZWqnVLkvjZAoDE4Bk-_oYiJizPaJXwP4wi-CK4Aw9H0D-nMVLWufrFGEIizQXTMBweSkWuklSVtxwVb9XUOSvb33ZLHZ2u0pr6XZGbP6uO5XhsIT0QBF7NefSIHrxOIT31Yyxo/s320/ElizabethSchneiderRichardson.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elizabeth Schneider Richardson</td></tr></tbody></table></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mr. Santa Claus – A little girl 4 years old wants you to visit
her in your travels and bring some toys, a tea sea, a picture book, a go-cart,
a Doll, roman candles, skyrockets, firecrackers, candy nuts, oranges, a fur
muff and any other nice things to wear, eat, and play with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can not go to school yet, so I need a lot
of playthings to keep me busy at my home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Please Don’t forget your little friend. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Elizabeth Schneider – Cedar Hill, Tenn.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Old Santa – You were so kind to bring me what I asked for
last Christmas, I am going to write to you again, so that you will not forget
me: please bring me a doll, some furs, a steamer trunk, a story book, five
roman candles, a skyrocket, a pack of firecrackers, and just lots of candy,
oranges, and nuts. With lots of love
from </span><span style="font-size: large;">Rebecca L. Schneider – Cedar Hill, Tenn.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYWMKTvDSKeFK7F-I7pguROzFlDeC2os6C6fgtN7tIOJRpLFNFoFEmBoVuokQQwhr3K60hGOxFF4NEZupJX_r3i1TpsfLKlfUMSD0XdMAZHR5dW5JSeXqTDhfGzFLB-KIyZ6Ufd4MjiFRWAIPPPuSH_1MxJ30KsWQ_-TVqTZuftqQRYZ2KkB7j8AUWh4/s620/ChasLilaSchneider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="379" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYWMKTvDSKeFK7F-I7pguROzFlDeC2os6C6fgtN7tIOJRpLFNFoFEmBoVuokQQwhr3K60hGOxFF4NEZupJX_r3i1TpsfLKlfUMSD0XdMAZHR5dW5JSeXqTDhfGzFLB-KIyZ6Ufd4MjiFRWAIPPPuSH_1MxJ30KsWQ_-TVqTZuftqQRYZ2KkB7j8AUWh4/w262-h427/ChasLilaSchneider.jpg" width="262" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;">The parents of these three children were Charles and Lila Ayres Schneider. He was a telegraph operator and clerk for the L&N railroad. Their daughter, Rebecca, was the last of the family to live in their big house in Cedar Hill. When she passed, the family settled her estate and sold the house. I attended that auction sale as a little boy - I grew up about a 1/4 mile from this house. I was looking through a box of old books, and an older gentleman knelt down and said, "Let me make some recommendations." He pulled out some of the books and said, "These were among my favorites." He gave me those books - that was J. Thomas Schneider. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">My parents purchased the old house in a closed bid after the auction. That is another story indeed! </span><span style="font-size: large;">Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you and your family. Be sure to share some stories while you are together. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sources: <i>The Nashville Banner</i>, 20 Dec 1902, p 20.; Schneider Family Files (personal collection)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYWMKTvDSKeFK7F-I7pguROzFlDeC2os6C6fgtN7tIOJRpLFNFoFEmBoVuokQQwhr3K60hGOxFF4NEZupJX_r3i1TpsfLKlfUMSD0XdMAZHR5dW5JSeXqTDhfGzFLB-KIyZ6Ufd4MjiFRWAIPPPuSH_1MxJ30KsWQ_-TVqTZuftqQRYZ2KkB7j8AUWh4/s620/ChasLilaSchneider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-17522472360957888292023-12-16T12:04:00.002-06:002023-12-16T12:04:48.349-06:00Learning about People - Listening to the Letters to Santa in 1903 <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These Letters to Santa appeared in the December 24th 1903 edition of <i>The Nashville Banner. </i>The newspaper reported receiving over 2200 letters that were published at Christmas time. Reading these letters has always made me want to connect to more information - Let's read a few with some additional information added in some cases. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijXfUjFAgs75JQHdCGOjq5zrI1SVQGhfvavES_yMiQ2Nkglr3-v3eu7vEIDE21gYwia2HJEedLOFRUEx4htGQoCVr3_96-d3q1LAPpiIspHcZ51K6oEqhliEhFvWgNqaJUdA4sFtSO-L6ohiuv3_Zp4omdbTDst0f5I5IHsDSuCYadn_9QXGqqIO9Tho/s787/TobiasAD2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="787" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijXfUjFAgs75JQHdCGOjq5zrI1SVQGhfvavES_yMiQ2Nkglr3-v3eu7vEIDE21gYwia2HJEedLOFRUEx4htGQoCVr3_96-d3q1LAPpiIspHcZ51K6oEqhliEhFvWgNqaJUdA4sFtSO-L6ohiuv3_Zp4omdbTDst0f5I5IHsDSuCYadn_9QXGqqIO9Tho/s320/TobiasAD2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Advertisement from Murfreesboro Post</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> Dear Santa Claus will you please bring me a Pearl handle knife, and a set of furs, and some leggings, and a game of Jack Straw, and a whole lot of games, and some story books, and a little doll. My little friend Marie says it's no Santa Claus, but I want some dolls, nuts and oranges and candy, also bananas and figs and a Christmas tree. Don't forget Mama and Papa and our cook Sammy, and anything that is nice. I am seven years old. Lucille Tobias, Murfreesboro, Tennessee<p></p><p>Lucile Josephine Tobias daughter of Joseph Tobias and Carrie Koshland. Mr Tobias was born in Poland, and came to the US in 1873 and to Murfreesboro shortly. He was working at Tobias & Co as a bookkeeper in 1900. The family moved to Chicago before 1905, and Lucile was a student at Hyde Park High School there. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkdreXX2qVrEWBzDdwSWbeZcmcrAMiqrMt9ojpJzeQQ1vN_1DHBiOIRWQYAVJRqqCejsb66Vc5c2J-h72dskVftWadbY9IOnziC_Z_elYY8ZLWEfbhKyGxdL_XvA5OtDWFphG8kuUyih2F6YLkv_cCLw8aCUFGreYc6oLpnoUm24330PNEhyphenhyphenxAcwCU8U/s342/LucileJTobias_HydeParkHighSchool1914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkdreXX2qVrEWBzDdwSWbeZcmcrAMiqrMt9ojpJzeQQ1vN_1DHBiOIRWQYAVJRqqCejsb66Vc5c2J-h72dskVftWadbY9IOnziC_Z_elYY8ZLWEfbhKyGxdL_XvA5OtDWFphG8kuUyih2F6YLkv_cCLw8aCUFGreYc6oLpnoUm24330PNEhyphenhyphenxAcwCU8U/s320/LucileJTobias_HydeParkHighSchool1914.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucile Josephine Tobias - High School Photograph</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>“Her ready laugh flows ever free”</p><p>Dear old Santa just two more nights before time for you to come, and we are so glad. Please bring us lots of nice things, bring baby sister, her name is Geraldine, a rubber doll, she has a rattle. Bring papa and mama something nice, two. Now Santa we have been very good children so please don't forget your little friends. Johnnie Susie and Elizabeth Grigsby. Franklin TN.</p><p>Dear Santy - I am a good little girl 8 years old I want some candy and a doll and doll buggy and a stove, some oranges, candy dishes and table and that is all. Hazel Petrie Poteet</p><p>Dear old Santa Claus - please bring me a doll just like sister Nellie’s and a buggy, a set of dishes, a fascinator, and some chalk for my blackboard you brought me last Christmas. Please don't forget my mother and father and aunt Mary and all my little cousins and my dear grandmas both of them and dear Santa don't forget my two little cousins up in Kentucky and their Mama. I will say good bye until I see you. Your little friend, Sarah Gibson.</p><p><br /></p><p>Dear Santa Claus - I thought I would write these few lines to let you know what I want for Christmas period I want a nice ring and a stove and a set of dishes and some nuts and oranges, apples and raisins. Your loving friend, Eva Ashton.</p><p>July 2, 1910 – Appearing in the Nashville Banner: A marriage which has just been made public, was that of Miss Eva Ashton of near Bordeaux and Mr. Wiley Sanders of Buchanan Street, which took place while the couple were seated in a buggy at the corner of Buchanan Street and Tenth Avenue, Elder M.S. Davis officiating. </p><p>Modern addition: Ashton G. ‘Red’ Sanders was a son of Wiley and Eva Ashton Sanders. He was the owner of Sanders Marine & Harley-Davidson of Nashville and Sanders’ Honda of Springfield. Eva and Wiley’s other children were Mary Elizabeth, Ruth M., Kathleen</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRrkIx5L-ue1oiNMEDCCy01I7HBsF3dXajlRir3prGvtfZ3Q09dxNW_D1QKeFJ0S_d46balEb8-Pa7CWLPZkYylWnBTqqF1YLFVgdqcEvVSHJ7Da7hMZKTPDOfUZ5NIDh4U6Yzk5xMgx6UK6zul1uCi2djbTxHzQGbDIJkB6jlS8Zam3P26BCWVtK4go/s1292/L&NLogo.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1292" data-original-width="1264" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRrkIx5L-ue1oiNMEDCCy01I7HBsF3dXajlRir3prGvtfZ3Q09dxNW_D1QKeFJ0S_d46balEb8-Pa7CWLPZkYylWnBTqqF1YLFVgdqcEvVSHJ7Da7hMZKTPDOfUZ5NIDh4U6Yzk5xMgx6UK6zul1uCi2djbTxHzQGbDIJkB6jlS8Zam3P26BCWVtK4go/s320/L&NLogo.webp" width="313" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Dear Santa - I want you to bring me a drum, horn, some nuts, candy, a balloon and anything else you want to bring; Also a music box. Your little friend. Jim Dyer. 606 2nd St.</p><p>This young man was the youngest son of Joseph C. Dyer, the Nashville Depot Master and Lucy Ford Dyer. He was born in Nashville and like his father, he worked for the Louisville and Nashville Railroad for 30 years. He served in the Navy during World War I. Jim married Miss Pearl Grizzard and they had the following children: James P Dyer (Jr) and Josephine. </p><p><br /></p><p>Sources: 1900 US Census, 1910 US Census, Nashville City Directories, additional newspapers accounts, including obituaries. </p><div><br /></div>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-10161837270706859332023-12-14T21:00:00.000-06:002023-12-14T21:00:25.355-06:00More Letters to Santa Claus from 1903 - One Hundred and Twenty Years Ago<p> These letters were taken from the <i>Nashville Banner,</i> dated 24 Dec 1903. Please note the toys, food and candies that these children are requesting. Imagine how it felt to have your letter published in the BIG Nashville Newspapers. Enjoy the letters. </p><p>One the front page the editors shared the following: </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">To Our Santa Claus Correspondents: </span></b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With today’s issue the correspondence with Santa Claus closes
for this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little people broke
the record this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That Banner has published
with the past week 2,153 letters to Santa Claus, more than has been published on
any previous ear – another evidence that the little people know their friend,
and the Banner is the great family newspaper of Tennessee. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">My Dear Santa Claus – I am late getting in my letter but
please don’t leave me out. Dear Santy, bring me lots of toys, every thing nice
for a little boy just 5 years old. And don’t forget my dear sweet mamma. <b> </b><b>J.W. Kelley, Jr. </b>– McKenzie, Tenn.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa – As my father is a subscriber to your paper I
will write and ask you to bring me a story book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And please bring my little friend Lizzie
Myrtle Biggar a big doll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b>Hallie Hays</b>, RR
No 1, Guthrie Ky. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa Claus – I am a little boy 6-1/2 years old and
would like for you to bring me engine and coaches and s storybook and some
candy, nuts, and some fireworks and some nice fruits and please don’ forget my
baby Brother he is 2 years old his name is Markin Silvester Brooks – bring him
something nice and some good things to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Your little friend –<b> James Allen Brooks,</b> West Nashville, TN (Illinois
Ave/7<sup>th</sup> St)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>P.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t forget mama and papa and grandma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go to Sunday School too!.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Old Santa Claus – I am a little girl nearly four years
old and I want you to bring me a doll and a set of furs and I want some picture
books and Santa Claus I want a little stove and a little table so I can put my
dishes on and some chairs and Santa Claus – I want a little rocking chair to
nurse my doll and I want candy , oranges and nuts and Santa Clause don’t forget
my little brother, he is nearly two years old. I want you to bring him a ball
and rocking horse and that is all he wants except candies, oranges and nuts –
We will be your good little children – <b>Bunyon and Robbie Draughon</b> – We live on
Division Street. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santy Claws – I am a little boy 5 years old, and this
is the first time that I have written to you, and I hope you will be kind
enough to bring me lots of good things. I am a good boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please bring me some candy, nuts, raisins,
figs, oranges, apples and fireworks, and lots of nice toys and nice little
trunk to put them in, and don’t forget little brother Oscar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has been sick, and bring him lots of good
things and lots of toys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is a good
boy 3-1/2 year old. I am a small boy and I can make my A, B, C, and I can make
figures on my slate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have got two dogs,
but will have them fastened under the house when you come so don’t be afraid of
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My name is Phillip S. Colley and I
live at 532 North First St., Esat Nashville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dear Santy, don’t forget mamma and papa, so goodbye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dear Old Santy, I forgot to tell you I want a
nice overcoat if you please, and thanking the Banner for kindness in publishing
my letter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will make papa continue to
take it, for I think it is the best paper in the State of Tennessee, yours
respectfully,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- <b>Phillip L Colley</b></span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Stay tuned - we will be adding more letters each day</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-64794071862671941922022-12-21T14:58:00.000-06:002022-12-21T14:58:07.634-06:00Letters to Santa from Children in 1903<p> <span style="font-size: large;">These letters were published in the <i>Nashville Banner</i> (Tennessee) newspaper just prior to Christmas, 1903. Be sure to note the family connections included in the letters from the wee ones to the man in Red. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaocZ-KrFbxi8Jo7GjAPE2F7C6WhmB10fSkvWn0FB047vYIkvAypCCneK2wxYDK6QFBN7Csu4g5tgjjxOp31NmzRcB0X5N5NpRd_ZetPgqA0PDaaXJ-PYUAXScrLIfnvLpyG1C4gA6-oHbk0KAPdjhS2IlWjdD5czDGrxtRIL2C-1lc-EAmDKNz4Ym/s707/SantaLetters1903.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="707" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaocZ-KrFbxi8Jo7GjAPE2F7C6WhmB10fSkvWn0FB047vYIkvAypCCneK2wxYDK6QFBN7Csu4g5tgjjxOp31NmzRcB0X5N5NpRd_ZetPgqA0PDaaXJ-PYUAXScrLIfnvLpyG1C4gA6-oHbk0KAPdjhS2IlWjdD5czDGrxtRIL2C-1lc-EAmDKNz4Ym/w640-h480/SantaLetters1903.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a little girl 7 years old, and I want you to bring me a
doll, set of dishes, table and some doll chairs and some candies, nuts,
oranges, figs and all good things to eat.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Nellie Egan<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">P.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please don’t forget my little brother, Morris
Egan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring him a nice rubber doll<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a little girl 5 years old. I want you to bring me a
doll, set of dishes, doll table and doll chairs and some candies, nuts, oranges
and everything good to eat.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Esther Egan<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a little girl 9 yrs old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish you would bring me a big doll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have kept the one you brought me last
Christmas and I want one a little larger and bring me a set of dishes and a
book satchel, oranges, candies and nuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bring all of the little children something.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Bessie Morgan<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa Claus<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Please bring me a watch and a chain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring me some candy and raisins and
nuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pleas bring me a knife and some
fireworks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please bring me a pretty
picture book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring me a pretty picture
book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring me a steel trap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please bring me some oranges and some
skyrockets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please bring me some
fireworks.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">John Miller Woodson<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have been a good little boy ever since I heard that you
were coming to see me Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please
bring me a pair of skates, velocipede, wagon, fireworks and everything that is
good to eat.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Austin DeMontbreun<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am 9 years old and good as I can be, so please do not
forget to bring me a game of flinch and lagomachy, pair of skates, rocking
chair, pocketbook, pencil box, story book and anything else that you think
would suit me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t forget mamma and my
four little brothers.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Jennie Lavender White<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am looking forward to you coming with great pleasure, so
please do not forget me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want a
baseball, glove, watch, pair of skates, pair of leggins, pair of corduroy pants
that come below my knees to wear with my leggins, and plenty of good things to
eat above all things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think of Mamma and
all good mammas like her.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Duncan DeMontbreun<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a little girl 12 years old and first of all I have quit
playing with dolls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can bring me a
work box, writing desk, rocking chair, cushions, bed, rat for my hair, some
pretty hairpins, ring, trunk, furs, and somebody to help mamma with her work so
I will not have to do it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Myrtle DeMontbreun<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a little boy 9 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go to school every day and try to be a good
little boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope you won’t forget me.
I want you to please bring me a set of carpenter tools, some tops, marbles, a
air-gun and some candies, oranges, nuts, firecrackers, roman candles and please
bring me a story book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your little
friend.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Hazle Russell<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Old Criss,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a little boy just 4 years old and I want you to bring
me a little wagon, a paper cap pistol, and a horn, lots of candy, nuts, and
oranges. <o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">W. Ridley Smith<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa Claus<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a little girl 7 years old. I live in the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please bring me a doll that will go to sleep,
some candy, nuts, raisins, orange and some fireworks and anything else you have
nice for a little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please don’t
forget my brothers and sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Good-bye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Birdie Clare Phipps<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Old Santa Claus<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As it is nearing Christmas, thaught I would write you and
ask you to please bring me a catcher’s glove, baseball and bat, and anything
else nice you may choose to bring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
Dear Old Santa Claus, please don’t forget my little brother, Gus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is such a sweet, good little fellow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now Santa don’t forget us, and I thank you
ever so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your Loving Little Friend,<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Frank M. Byrne<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear St. Nicholas<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Please bring me a nice box of handkerchiefs, book called
“The Story of a Short Life,” some hair ribbons, statuette, new dark red waist,
and have the sets put in my old ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Also bring me some candy, oranges, apples, nuts and dates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yours truly<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Helen Galloway<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santy<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I want some big fire crackers and some fireworks, a loud
whistle, some paper caps,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fifteen cents
worth of little fire crackers and a velossipede, some candy and a top and
string.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please bring me a big cannon and
a fire engine and a box of tools and a football and a drum and anything else
you can think of that a little boy like me wants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your friend<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">John Lea Quarles<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I want you to not forget me, for I want a rubber rattle and
a pair of little shoes and a high chair and some candy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Willie U. Knott<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dear Santa Claus<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This letter is from Kate Leak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please bring me a doll, set of furniture and
a tea set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>also some candy, and some
oranges and nuts, and a doll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Augusta
Little says bring her a doll, set of furniture and some nuts and a tea set, and
Kate a doll carriage and me one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want
some butter nuts and some oranges, and a little red rocking chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am 6 years old and Kate Leak is 7.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring me a doll cradle and a bottle of
cologne and just anything that you can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And bring a box of candy and a little kitchen to go to Mamie’s parlor.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Kate Leak and Augusta Little<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Deaer Santa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a little man 10 years of age and have been a pretty
good boy this year, and hope you will come to see me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please bring me a little tool box, an air
gun, a fire engine, a train of cars and nuts, candies, oranges and fireworks.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">Watson Williams<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The following description and greeting appeared on Christmas
Eve, 1903.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE LILIPUTIAN ARMY
MOVED ON SANTA CLAUS<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The little people broke the record this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2,153 letters to Santa Claus, more than any
previous year, were written to the Nashville Banner this year [1903].<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is evidence that the little people know
their friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The letters have been
printed just as they were written, and that most of them were genuine
child-letters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, the usual
“smartie” has attempted to get in his joke work or fake, and for this we have
kept a careful lookout, and have thrown out all communications that seemed to
us suspicious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have been alarmed by
the enormous demand for dolls, but have no doubt the supply will quite equal
the demand.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A great cause for congratulation in the magnificent report
so many boy letter-writers have to offer as in their conduct during the year.
Surely the world has never witnessed such a fine army of “good little boys” as
those who have reported to old Santa Claus of 1903. The girls do not have much
to say on that subject, but this is doubtless due to the fact that girls are
always good and old Santa Claus know it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But the boys are evidently “catching up” and will no doubt soon be just
as good.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, all may not get just what they desired, for there
are a great many little boys and girls in the world, and some of you have sent
in rather large orders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But your old
friend Santa Claus is going to do his very best for you; you may be sure of
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, after all, the real happiness
of Christmas does not consist in what we get, nor even in what we give, but in
a glad heart, a contented spirit and a sweet and loving gratitude to the
friends who remember us at this gracious season of good will<o:p></o:p></p>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-68063952121608887302022-11-25T17:32:00.001-06:002022-11-25T17:32:43.031-06:00Several Retrospective Views of Thanksgiving Day<p> Thanksgiving Day has always been a day of retrospect. The first American Thanksgiving was celebrated in 1621, to commemorate the harvest reaped by the Plymouth Colony after a harsh winter. The colonists celebrated it as a traditional English harvest feast, to which they invited the local Wampanoag Indians. </p><p>Days of thanksgiving were celebrated throughout the colonies after fall harvests. George Washington, our first president, declared the holiday in 1789.</p><p>By the mid–1800s, many states observed a Thanksgiving holiday. During the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln gave his Thanksgiving Proclamation, declaring the last Thursday in November 1863 a day of thanksgiving. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvnIem1DIWLMzVfAyZJ3cGKxoZq30NVfH0Cl6Tz6XZLFIDZnDnpnjuPNVIc7ERY6b4nT_F5pGydNpvXxGau5uuiYb98hToHzRNmNd5-yYy795rlIyfak0O6lapurUmVtl60_uQx3IQkegUQrfv_BUkkzWSstv9Gn2pWsowrg7cwGt4Ac9O2S_BHgu/s1252/Thanksgiving_1900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="1252" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvnIem1DIWLMzVfAyZJ3cGKxoZq30NVfH0Cl6Tz6XZLFIDZnDnpnjuPNVIc7ERY6b4nT_F5pGydNpvXxGau5uuiYb98hToHzRNmNd5-yYy795rlIyfak0O6lapurUmVtl60_uQx3IQkegUQrfv_BUkkzWSstv9Gn2pWsowrg7cwGt4Ac9O2S_BHgu/w509-h324/Thanksgiving_1900.JPG" width="509" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Turkeys and Football were included in this Holiday Postcard from 1900. </span></b></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Thanksgiving - Civil War 1863</b></p><p>Let’s follow the diary of a young nurse, Elvira J. Powers, who served in hospitals in the Louisville area and Nashville. Here are her thoughts just prior to that Thanksgiving in 1863.</p><p>“My writing progresses slowly of late and is often interrupted, for I am very busy. I would like to note down the duties and incidents of one day if time permitted, but can only select a portion.</p><p>Day before yesterday was gladdened by a call from Rev. H. M. Miller, Agent of Universalist Army Mission and his travelling brother, Rev. Gilman. I regret that he cannot be allowed to preach in this hospital. This religious thought reminds me of the early history of my own father, long since sleeping in a western wildwood, who when a young man was repeatedly denounced from the pulpit of a Baptist diving, w ho cautioned his hearers of the fascinations of that Methodist fanatic, who was setting the people crazy with his preaching. I am wondering how many years it will be before people can worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences. What a pity that so few who fight for civil liberty know so little of religious freedom. </p><p>We are expecting a Thanksgiving dinner at the hospital next Thursday. This community feels somewhat dubious about the turkeys, chickens and pies for two thousand mouths of soldiers. Certain it is that the boys would appreciate a good dinner, as they have had rather short rations of late.</p><p>Friday, November 25, 1863 – Well, our Thanksgiving dinner was a success. Nearly three hundred turkeys and chickens suffered death for the good of their country. When those, and the five hundred pies were cooked and placed on the tables in the kitchen the night before, I mentally confessed, while viewing them through the window from the corridor, that were I one of a regiment of hungry soldiers just from the front, I might possibly stir up a mutiny to make a raid on the kitchen and capture them. A portion of the dinner was the contribution of the loyal citizens.</p><p>The chaplain sent for me as usual to attend funeral service. Today it was in Ward 15, and of four soldiers. One was that of George W. Odell. He was but seventeen, in a new regiment and only out about four weeks. He had an escort of eight young boys of his company who appeared in uniform, with white gloves. We ladies followed nest to the coffins in the procession to the soldiers’ cemetery.</p><p>Monday, November 28, </p><p>Yesterday was very busy all day in ward, with new arrival of patients from Nashville. Did not get time to attend service. Have written out applications for transfer, filled out medical descriptive lists, and have written out orders for money to be paid to the surgeon for patients unable to get to headquarters. </p><p>We have one individual who goes by the title of Colonel. He came with the transfer of patients from Nashville, two weeks ago, last Wednesday.</p><p>He was brought in on a shelf. They had lain his head below the pillow instead of on it, and seeing him lie thus without raising it, though he made some attempts to do so, I went to him to assist and asked if he could not raise himself higher and on the pillow. He said no, his limbs were all paralyzed except one arm. He raised his head and I put a pillow under it. </p><p>Soon after, when accompanying the surgeon, while he was making out cards to hang in the little tin case at the head of each bed, this patient informed him in a quiet tone that he wanted his name entered as a private, as the boys were always expecting an officer to put on airs. </p><p>He was a Colonel of an Illinois regiment. He had been robbed of his satchel, clothing, regimentals and $3700 by a ward-master of Hospital No. 8 of Nashville. </p><p>I’m thankful for my wonderful life.”</p><p>Here's a link to the Diary as published: <a href="https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/006784079">https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/006784079</a></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Thanksgiving Proclamation - President McKinley, 1900</b></p><p>Several Presidents have shared a proclamation celebrating the Day of Thanksgiving. Following is President William McKinley proclamation for Thanksgiving Day, 1900.</p><p>“It has pleased Almighty God to bring our nation in safety and honor through another year. The works of religion and charity have everywhere been manifest. Our country through all its extent has been blessed with abundant harvests. Labor and the great industries of the people have prospered beyond all precedent. Our commerce has spread over the world. Our power and influence in the cause of freedom and enlightenment have extended over distant seas and lands. The lives of our official representatives and many of our people in China have been marvelously preserved. We have been generally exempt from pestilence and other great calamities; and even the tragic visitation which overwhelmed the city of Galveston made evident the sentiments of sympathy and Christian charity by virtue of which we are one united people.</p><p>Now, therefore, I, William McKinley, President of the United States, do hereby appoint and set apart Thursday, the 29th of November next, to be observed by all the people of the United States, at home or abroad, as a day of thanksgiving and praise to Him who holds the nations in the hollow of His hand. I recommend that they gather in their several places of worship and devoutly give Him thanks for the prosperity wherewith He has endowed us, for seedtime and harvest, for the valor, devotion, and humanity of our armies and navies, and for all His benefits to us as individuals and as a nation; and that they humbly pray for the continuance of His divine favor, for concord and amity with other nations, and for righteousness and peace in all our ways.</p><p>In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed. Done at the city of Washington, this twenty-ninth day of October in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred, and of the independence of the United States the one hundred and twenty-fifth.</p><p>WILLIAM McKINLEY”</p><div><br /></div>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0Springfield, TN 37172, USA36.5092118 -86.88499848.1989779638211573 -122.0412484 64.819445636178841 -51.7287484tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-67574618272933750792022-11-24T17:44:00.000-06:002022-11-24T17:44:13.579-06:00Thanksgiving Thoughts from the Past<p> Thanksgiving Day has always been a day of retrospect. The first American Thanksgiving was celebrated in 1621, to commemorate the harvest reaped by the Plymouth Colony after a harsh winter. The colonists celebrated it as a traditional English harvest feast, to which they invited the local Wampanoag Indians. </p><p>Days of thanksgiving were celebrated throughout the colonies after fall harvests. George Washington, our first president, declared the holiday in 1789.</p><p>By the mid–1800s, many states observed a Thanksgiving holiday. During the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln gave his Thanksgiving Proclamation, declaring the last Thursday in November 1863 a day of thanksgiving. </p><p>Let’s take a look at entries from two journals during the Civil War that relate of Thanksgiving Day in Tennessee.</p><p>Elk River, Tenn., November 27, 1863. Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day. Nobody needs to be told how our hearts turned homeward. It was with no unworthy or unmanly motives that every one thought how pleasant it would be to enjoy the festival with families and friends.</p><p>Our day was beautiful. After a cold night, the sun rose beautifully here, and soon melted away the frost. It was quite warm long before noon. We had, of course, our usual religious service at eleven o'clock — gathering beside the formidable fortification which frowns from the top of the hill, and under the flag which there was wind enough to float. It was our storm flag, not our battle flag ; that is guarded as tenderly as a saint's relics, and only used when, although to bear it is almost a sentence of death, it waves defiance to the enemy, and when each man of our colorguard springs to catch it from the hands of the dying. But the storm flag waved near us. We were but a handful. Three times have we celebrated Thanksgiving Day, and each since the first with rapidly diminishing numbers. The dead sleep on the battlefield.</p><p>The men played ball, of course. And they had their dinner. It was impossible, in preparing, to get any supplies from Nashville, because the capacity of the railway is tried severely to carry the necessaries of life. So a large party had been sent out, well armed, into the country to make provision. They were gone two days, and found, at a distance of some fifteen miles, plenty of geese, chickens, and the like, which the people were very ready to sell. It would seem - queer to friends at home, in doing their Thanksgiving marketing, to have to go fifteen miles, and take fifty well-armed men as a matter of safety.</p><p>I have figured up a little ; and to show that there was enough to eat, report that the ratio of supply was this: to every hundred men, fourteen geese, four turkeys, and forty chickens; besides a few quails, a pig, and some plum puddings. And plenty of geese still quack, reserved for subsequent eating.</p><p>In the evening, the officers came together, inviting also the officers of the excellent Second Kentucky battery. Singing and social pleasantry made the hours pass rapidly. Some of our officers came back: they love the old homestead. And the brigade band, some of whose members used to belong to our old regimental band, came on foot for eight miles (they would have come by rail, but that no trains ran, and they waited till impatient), and discoursed most beautiful music.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGNfn7Mdyzo06PCDdaU8TLLC-OFYU2g27mFNV19LcAyw1r_KntCGaLaY60RUAF-_BMzNGHWHpzswx8ywV-jCH01LmK7Pc1ot5oxe38cJrbBa_gflr7WbQk8-D6HpAwtBwt8qbPEb0ujeTc8gyphzTNACnkKTN1n4orL_vdSZoulOUkUkvF1AAzJ5L/s874/OPTemple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="601" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGNfn7Mdyzo06PCDdaU8TLLC-OFYU2g27mFNV19LcAyw1r_KntCGaLaY60RUAF-_BMzNGHWHpzswx8ywV-jCH01LmK7Pc1ot5oxe38cJrbBa_gflr7WbQk8-D6HpAwtBwt8qbPEb0ujeTc8gyphzTNACnkKTN1n4orL_vdSZoulOUkUkvF1AAzJ5L/s320/OPTemple.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The family of Oliver Perry Temple, a trustee for the
University of Tennessee, shared a
Thanksgiving Feast during the Civil War with Union soldiers. His journal recorded the events. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p>Knoxville, November 26, 1863. There had been a Thanksgiving and turkey eating dinner in Knoxville previously to the one given by General Burnside—one given in his honor. On Thanksgiving Day, November 26,1863, Mrs. Temple, wife of the author, gave a dinner to him and a part of his staff. Among those were Colonel Wm. Hamilton Harris, of New York; Captain (now Colonel U.S. A.) D. H. Larned, retired; and probably Major William Cutting, of New York City, and others. I was absent at the time. Before the siege commenced, Mrs. Temple bad procured a splendid large turkey for that occasion. Other supplies she always had on hand. The entertainment was sumptuous, and, considering the time, profuse. The occasion was one of anxiety, especially to General Burnside, and well calculated to cast a gloom over the company. The fate of Knoxville and the army at that very time hung wavering in the balance. But the genial sunshine of the hostess, and her inspiring animation, drove away all gloom, even from the brow of the stern old chief. All went well with him through the various courses until coffee was reached, and there he drew the line, declaring that he could not think of drinking coffee while his poor soldiers were lying in wet trenches and had none. Noble-hearted man! But, worthy as was this sentiment, I never heard that he refused to partake of the turkey because his soldiers had none! This was perhaps the only Thanksgiving dinner given in Knoxville on that day. This incident is given as an introduction and as indirectly related to the thrilling incidents which follow:</p><p>Thirty years after that time, a carriage drove up to my house in Knoxville, one Sabbath afternoon, containing a gentleman and two ladies. On being ushered into the parlor, the gentleman introduced himself by saying that he was Wm. Hamilton Harris, a son of ex-United States Senator Ira Harris, of New York, who served in the senate during the late war. He further stated that he served on the staff of General Burnside with the rank of colonel; that he was in Knoxville during the siege; that he was one of the party who had partaken of the Thanksgiving dinner given by Mrs. Temple to General Burnside, and that we had had the honor of carving the large turkey on that occasion. He explained that he had called to pay his respects to my daughter and myself out of regard for the memory of Mrs. Temple, who was then dead, and of whom he spoke in the most tender praise. This courtesy, after the lapse of thirty years, certainly proved Colonel Harris to be a refined gentleman.</p><p>Sources: Potomac and the Rapidan, Alonzo Quint, 2nd Massachusetts Inf.; East Tennessee and the Civil War, Oliver Perry Temple.</p><p>This post was part of an article originally published on Wed November 17, 2010. J. Mark Lowe</p><div><br /></div>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-87270714552053784422021-12-29T14:37:00.000-06:002021-12-29T14:37:23.894-06:00Following Traditions for the New Year<p> </p><br />
<p class="MsoNormal">J. Mark Lowe<o:p></o:p></p>
<br />
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eating black-eyed peas and something green (cabbage or
greens) on New Year's Day is said to bring good luck and financial prosperity
to the one eating them throughout the rest of the year. My Mom insisted that we
at least have a spoonful of peas. Other lucky foods are lentils, pork (because
chickens scratch backwards, a cow stands still, but a pig roots forward.) and
sauerkraut. In order to take this a step further, some place a silver coin over
the doorway or a penny on the windowsill. I asked several of my friends what
traditions their family or neighbors followed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">On New Year’s Day, it is good luck for a man to be the first
person to enter your house, and bad luck for a woman to be first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>John Baker, Jr. remembers men in the
community coming around from house-to-house on New Year’s Day in order to
spread good luck. Several folks shared this similar superstition. Absolutely
nothing should leave your house or home on New Year's Day, including you, until
someone has crossed into your door. You may want to have a family member or
friend visit you on New Year's Day to break the threshold of your doorway
before you go anywhere on the first. The best luck would be a dark-haired tall
man who came bearing gifts of a lump of coal, a silver coin, a bit of bread, an
evergreen sprig or some salt. Beware though, remember it should be a man, not a
woman, and blondes and redheads are additional bad omens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The story is told that on one occasion, a
wife allowed a female friend to come into her house on the Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her husband was extremely upset that his wife
allowed the female friend to be the first to come into the house and bring bad
luck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This argument led to a separation
and the couple never reconciled. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="757" data-original-width="1233" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYHMd0eLgpOdcFtCTnYRMSFnmlcXmJgMB9wS9DBwy6ayhXWb_2dbFhv8vR3LlIuxIZ03UqaQKpAZh8Wr2CufYIzalz4WS2cvYQmPSQNDGSEXqPCbdA4BfYoS8G447ktlcRQF8wbGbz6EOcoZGTgB5G4sP3vmnI_Ijm4POfeF6aqQLTVWSte8U6rb96=w584-h358" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="584" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>This historic postcard displays many traditional
symbols of luck: leprechaun, four-leaf clovers, horseshoe, ringing bells, gold
coins and a pig</b></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYHMd0eLgpOdcFtCTnYRMSFnmlcXmJgMB9wS9DBwy6ayhXWb_2dbFhv8vR3LlIuxIZ03UqaQKpAZh8Wr2CufYIzalz4WS2cvYQmPSQNDGSEXqPCbdA4BfYoS8G447ktlcRQF8wbGbz6EOcoZGTgB5G4sP3vmnI_Ijm4POfeF6aqQLTVWSte8U6rb96=s1233" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />There are many traditions about the people with whom you
celebrate and activities you are doing both on New Year’s Eve and Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So depending on your beliefs, the person you
were with to celebrate the new year last week is with whom you will spend the
next year. There's long been a superstition that if you kiss your true love at
midnight on New Year's Eve, you will live in love and happiness with that
person for the entire rest of the upcoming year. Plus, whatever you were doing
on January 1<sup>st</sup> is the task you will continue to do all year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve heard from many people that families
have avoided have funerals on the 1<sup>st</sup> because of the superstition.
There is one superstition about New Year's Day that if you lend someone money
or something of substantial value on the first day of the New Year, you will be
loaning money out to people all year long. You're also not supposed to pay off
any loan on the first day of the New Year, either. If you cry on New Year's
Day, for sad reasons, then you set the tone for a year's worth of sadness and
tears. Whatever happens, you should be happy and upbeat all day on New Year's
Day in order to ensure a happy year to follow.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Many folks opened the doors or windows of a home at midnight
on New Year’s Eve to let the old year escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We also make loud noises at the same time, so we scare away any evil
spirits that might be tempted to come into the house. An Irish tradition
involves banging on the door and walls with Christmas bread to chase the bad
luck out and bring good spirits to the household with the promise of bread
enough in the New Year.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Watch Night began with the Moravians, a small Christian
group with roots in eastern Europe. The first such service was held in 1733 on
the estate of Count von Zinzendorf in Hernhut, Germany. John Wesley, founder of
a Methodist movement, incorporated the Watch Night vigil into the practices of
the early Methodist church. These watch night were not only held on New Year’s
Eve, but one a month and on full moons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The first such service was held in the United States in 1770 in
Philadelphia. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">The end-of-year Watch Night of 1862 took on special
significance and became known as Freedom Eve. On the 22<sup>nd</sup> of
September 1862, President Abraham Lincoln issued a preliminary Emancipation
Proclamation, which stated, “On the first day of January… all persons held as
slaves within any State, or designated part of a State, the people whereof
shall then be in rebellion against the United States shall be, then,
thenceforward, and forever free.” When the news was received, there were
prayers, shouts and songs of joy as people fell to their knees and thanked God.
Among African-American congregations many have gathered in churches annually on
New Year's Eve ever since, praising God for bringing them safely through
another year and commemorating the significant date in history.<br />
As I leave you to your resolutions, let me share the fate of Ten Little
Resolutions taken from a 1910 Kentucky newspaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One little resolution keeping it a month is a
chore, never mind, next New Years’ Day you can make at least ten more. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sources: <i>Mt. Sterling Advocate;</i> <i>Historic Traditions of
Scotland and Ireland;</i></span><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-22934548213979221932021-12-23T17:43:00.000-06:002021-12-23T17:43:12.840-06:00Civil War Christmas - 1864<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Let’s follow the diary of a young nurse, Elvira J. Powers,
who served as a nurse in military hospitals in the Louisville area and
Nashville. Here are her thoughts just prior to Christmas in 1864.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Friday, Dec. 9.<o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>The first snow of the season. Winter has really come to the
Ohio valley.<o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Much public excitement in Louisville. Men are being
conscripted, and horses impressed. Several thousand soldiers have just been
sent there, as they anticipate a cavalry raid from the rebels. Hood is
threatening Nashville. He says he "… is ordered either to go into
Nashville, or to " a certain very warm place. Our boys [Union soldiers]
think he will get into the latter place first.<o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Yesterday was at work most of the day and evening on
evergreen wreaths to trim the ward. Christmas is coming I have plenty of help
from the ward-master, chief nurse and convalescents. How kind they all are. I
receive nothing in my ward from the surgeon down, but the greatest respect and
consideration. <o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Friday, Dec.16.<o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>The first death in my ward, since my coming, occurred last
night. It was that of Robert Burnett, of Kentucky. On Sunday morning, over a
week since, I found him lying in bed and that he had not been out to breakfast,
as he had done the two days previous, since entering the ward.<o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Upon conversing with him he told me he was going to die. I
saw that he was excited and thought he was nervous and tried to quiet him. But
he was sure, he said, that he should die, " he understood why I did not
think so, and appreciated what I said, but he knew he was going to die, "
and asked if I would stay by him whenever I could, and he begged for a promise
that I would be by him and " watch his face when he died." These were
his exact words, and though I did not think he was dangerous and told him so,
yet he would not be pacified till I promised if he died at any hour when we
were allowed in the ward, or if at any other, and he was conscious and would
send for me, I would be with him. He was also concerned for the future, for he
was not a Christian, he said. I read for him from the Bible, sang for him, and
the chaplain's orderly came and prayed with him. He professed afterward to
think himself prepared to die, and he gradually grew worse each day until he
died. I remained with him until late last evening, but he was unconscious else
I should have remained until his death. He died about twelve. I had written to
his wife the first day, but the mails are interrupted by guerillas. He has two
brother-in-laws here, who have started home with his body. At the funeral
service we sang the appropriate hymn,<o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b> </b></i></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>" Oh! watch my dying face, <o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>When I am called to die."</b></i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">[Note: Robert Burnett was the son of David and Elizabeth
Cole Burnett of Hardin County, Kentucky. He enlisted in Company d, 21<sup>st</sup>
Kentucky Infantry USA. He was married to Electa Ann Smallwood in 1857 and they
had children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The records indicate he
died of a fever. He was buried in the New Albany National Cemetery in Indiana.]<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhz7ylEdiQft_GVz63ZS5yNAi2cg9QUYy22P9VKvL6zZEymMAxTj8KXazLITWwAzqN-jrPEgX3WS0zNTC6S2JTU0SDrbFP588FMpzn1qBPGmbEh0Uwa3aRb0t1B2n1HC6P6T9L-kjvFVoVBiVRe5RrTWgQ6s9-lx1NzdDSSEoXL3t61mmTCMShSx_FM=s600" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="600" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhz7ylEdiQft_GVz63ZS5yNAi2cg9QUYy22P9VKvL6zZEymMAxTj8KXazLITWwAzqN-jrPEgX3WS0zNTC6S2JTU0SDrbFP588FMpzn1qBPGmbEh0Uwa3aRb0t1B2n1HC6P6T9L-kjvFVoVBiVRe5RrTWgQ6s9-lx1NzdDSSEoXL3t61mmTCMShSx_FM=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiayxPiWwbIFhIjYoWtCdzuUponQLgtNogvScIsjw7929dZRsT7wpTYFCtfYUgSKCaOxWYX3BmAKjWoEr7X5oSRGpEoQ-dwEMwlgXVt4eSFXe-kNmrnC-YzVDxj47A_deEa1EE206ktpseCJp9KHjkNVryBFnnHs1h4RQY6owLpWJ9oNYDHLsXKN6As=s1129" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1129" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiayxPiWwbIFhIjYoWtCdzuUponQLgtNogvScIsjw7929dZRsT7wpTYFCtfYUgSKCaOxWYX3BmAKjWoEr7X5oSRGpEoQ-dwEMwlgXVt4eSFXe-kNmrnC-YzVDxj47A_deEa1EE206ktpseCJp9KHjkNVryBFnnHs1h4RQY6owLpWJ9oNYDHLsXKN6As=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The University of Nashville served as a Hospital during the Civil War</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGCliI9GNAuzQLoAm3fsp7q1EcLlUfX2WxQech4rQhuFihlZf2kYS_tMh4mlwBQfYSvXrzCsVhZ4f9UZNbAUA5TrXDzAH5xAIuoYNB7QI81sm11_cNBZQGsb4mRhP7MLuBfVPlNM5_4yPhYYDfFiobTkKE1dmvZqqu-sfTje_UkXYEQHIq7XGRMPoU=s1201" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="782" data-original-width="1201" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGCliI9GNAuzQLoAm3fsp7q1EcLlUfX2WxQech4rQhuFihlZf2kYS_tMh4mlwBQfYSvXrzCsVhZ4f9UZNbAUA5TrXDzAH5xAIuoYNB7QI81sm11_cNBZQGsb4mRhP7MLuBfVPlNM5_4yPhYYDfFiobTkKE1dmvZqqu-sfTje_UkXYEQHIq7XGRMPoU=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Burnett's Civil War Pension Card</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuywq5_8bECb2txpmJVNiM1BPjjBQgd2ZTNMKKsbwI_14hBjgEt17jD7EpW2mF1QG0-1QHH56i5P54L8O0fBE-7zuVl00csL0JhqtBXap4lICLHpGL2MNMv7yfZy47NrwWc3NlJt_pnFdlkgGuqHY8kpCC2GwiIF-VxjvF4ha7-7CjsYj-mMSG05tk=s570" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="317" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuywq5_8bECb2txpmJVNiM1BPjjBQgd2ZTNMKKsbwI_14hBjgEt17jD7EpW2mF1QG0-1QHH56i5P54L8O0fBE-7zuVl00csL0JhqtBXap4lICLHpGL2MNMv7yfZy47NrwWc3NlJt_pnFdlkgGuqHY8kpCC2GwiIF-VxjvF4ha7-7CjsYj-mMSG05tk=s320" width="178" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Compiled Military Service Record of Robert Burnett. This indicated he died of fever in the hospital.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Wednesday, Dec. 21.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Transfers and furloughs are the order of the day. Some
twenty-five hundred have been transferred from Nashville to this hospital, this
month. From fifty to two, three or four hundred are transferred from here at
one time, to hospitals farther north. As we hear that those are pretty well
filled, it seems just the time to give as many sick furloughs as possible, thus
clearing the hospitals for those unable to go home. <o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i> </i></b></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i> </i></b></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Saturday, Dec. 24.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>The second death in the ward. It was that of a young,
noble-looking man—Prevo, of the 40th Indiana. He died of a gunshot wound, the
ball entering the lungs. He was battling with the grim monster all day
yesterday, and thought himself at one time on a forced march through the
country of an enemy, and at another in the heat of battle, when he would cheer
on the soldiers. A lock of hair and a few words of condolence will go to one
more mourning family in place of the dear, noble boy.</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">[Note: James T. Prevo was the son of John and Jane Greer
Prevo of Fountain County, Indiana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
mustered in to the 40<sup>th</sup> Indiana on 21 Dec 1861 almost three years to
the day of his death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The record
indicates he was mortally wounded at the Battle of Franklin TN on 20 November.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is listed among the wounded in the Chicago
Tribune (8 Dec 1864).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was buried in
the National Cemetery in New Albany Indiana. ]<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUhpg3Eui9hnEjMMSsby6rZkhjAIyYZmZx4PVT9wTSw0MrroF0CXcfkEgcmrBWUzAfmSFlfJnVjy-L0tCUaJwz_S-EqtcfdeBZ-3yRIKyvSO_7QBWB-5ER6oWDYEz0IKtnRSccOUO_t5Oq1eTbnKPFMZgF37J3gDqVPl4malzX_ChCR11eC922Es55=s1071" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="1071" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUhpg3Eui9hnEjMMSsby6rZkhjAIyYZmZx4PVT9wTSw0MrroF0CXcfkEgcmrBWUzAfmSFlfJnVjy-L0tCUaJwz_S-EqtcfdeBZ-3yRIKyvSO_7QBWB-5ER6oWDYEz0IKtnRSccOUO_t5Oq1eTbnKPFMZgF37J3gDqVPl4malzX_ChCR11eC922Es55=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIT-IdN5wRPkMuFiHBm0jbuGlkE62tPwhHAV3KtJylhFF39SbxW9KmJbWTC_VMUfjzSm7fE_hIFWNW-Hk6hI_IpXyqIaGu3X7MZ-blB2vzwSB19OZ3yjgOUgnNTsikCokOKPi7EhhOAqlA1bkvfOrdObKdYFHHX4lXtUN8ROMG4ZpGctUy6xLm56wi=s3264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIT-IdN5wRPkMuFiHBm0jbuGlkE62tPwhHAV3KtJylhFF39SbxW9KmJbWTC_VMUfjzSm7fE_hIFWNW-Hk6hI_IpXyqIaGu3X7MZ-blB2vzwSB19OZ3yjgOUgnNTsikCokOKPi7EhhOAqlA1bkvfOrdObKdYFHHX4lXtUN8ROMG4ZpGctUy6xLm56wi=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWb6D79mThgAYqee8PQJHNMhFbEWOw6EDj7qa23YZ4Bo3gMPGfi_jc5AdznDv6FzVxPc_KstoWviyZWznWrsz6kAiODQFNOxZNSlMsc-lmERTz9sTyGsLTJo3h-JZeAbCKvDBQiQS9SeOd4xl9olXhA8irKgJEwY_DUrMwmZ7nj0sPt3m5V3konVQ_=s383" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="139" data-original-width="383" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWb6D79mThgAYqee8PQJHNMhFbEWOw6EDj7qa23YZ4Bo3gMPGfi_jc5AdznDv6FzVxPc_KstoWviyZWznWrsz6kAiODQFNOxZNSlMsc-lmERTz9sTyGsLTJo3h-JZeAbCKvDBQiQS9SeOd4xl9olXhA8irKgJEwY_DUrMwmZ7nj0sPt3m5V3konVQ_=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table>This newspaper accounty shows James Provo with a shoulder injury. Other records indicated it was received in Franklin, Tennessee.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Great preparations are being made for Christmas tomorrow ;
thus death and feasting go hand in hand in this strange world of ours.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i> </i></b></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Another died last Sunday in Ward 23, who had been for a long
time in this ward. He shed tears when he was transferred, and I interceded to
have him remain, but there are wards to which an order obliges patients to be
removed when suffering from chronic diarrhea or lung diseases, and he was one
of the former. But at his request I visited him, and after his death, which
came suddenly, procured a lock of his hair from the dead-house and sent it to
his father.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i> </i></b></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Christmas Evening.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Our dinner was truly a success. It was given by the Sanitary
Commission principally, and a portion from the hospital fund. Much less stir
was made about it, and one soldier expressed the general feeling, who said he
" enjoyed the. Christmas dinner the most, for there wasn't so much style
about it." Very excellent oyster soup for the light diet was given each
time. Twenty-one hundred pies were issued for dinner, seventy-one cans of
oysters, with eighteen hundred pounds of beef a la mode, also four barrels of
pickles.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i> </i></b></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Friday, Dec. 30.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Most of the wards are now radiant with evergreen, tissue
paper and pictures. I am content that mine should rank third or fourth in its
adornings, rather than neglect the weightier matter of attending to the sick
men—of whom I had quite a number last week requiring much care. The last death,
mentioned under date of the 24th, was the second only in the ward since my
entrance—a period of over two months, and the fifth since being in the charge
of the present Burgeon, which is eight months. But the mortality in the
hospital is increasing very much in consequence of war's grim visage
.approaching nearer to us. A week ago last Sunday there were eleven dead bodies
in the dead-house, and fourteen deaths occurred in three days.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i> </i></b></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">[Note: Elvira Stockwell Powers was born on 6 August 1827 in Auburn,
Worcester County, Massachusetts. She was the daughter of James and Prudence
Stockwell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having already suffered the
death of four children before the war, and with her husband, Edward Powers away
in the Union army, Elvira headed to the south to work in the Union hospitals. She
died a few years after the Civil War (1871) of consumption. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The Inscription on
her gravestone says: </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A devoted friend and nurse<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">to the soldiers in times </span></b><b><span style="font-size: large;">of war and a lover of good</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">works in times of peace has </span></b><b style="font-size: x-large;">gone home.]</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sources: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hospital
Pencillings</i>, Powers, 1866.; Adjutant General Report, Indiana; <i>ChicagoTribune</i>,
* Dec 1864.US Civil War Pension Cards, US Census, New Albany National Cemetery
Records.</span><o:p></o:p></p>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-6237710599958881932021-12-23T09:56:00.004-06:002021-12-23T11:00:29.480-06:00More Letters to Santa - 1904<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Throughout the years, boys and girls have taken the time to
send their special requests to Santa Claus. These letters were written and
published in the newspaper during the year 1904. Let’s examine the requests of
the young Robertson county Tennessee citizens and learn more about these
individuals.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Dear Santa:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>I am a little girl 10 years old and want you to please bring
me some doll furniture, a story-book, a good ball, a china doll, a little
washboard and tub, a kite that will go very high, also some watercolors and a
brush, roman candles, sky rockets and fire crackers and a lot of good things to
eat. Please don’t forget my little brother, papa and mama. Your little friend, <o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Winnie Fort, Adams, Tenn.</i></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Dear Santa, <o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Please don’t forget your little 4 year old boy, please bring
me a rocking-horse, a whip, a ball, a horn, a little train, a baby doll, a
monkey that climbs a string, a bicycle, a pistol and some caps, some fire
crackers and a sleigh for me and my sister to ride in, apples, oranges, nuts,
candy and bananas and any thing else you want to give me. Your little boy,<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Billie Fort, Jr. , Adams, Tenn.</i></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Winnie Virginia Fort and William Dancy ‘Billy’ Fort, Jr.
were the children of William Dancy ‘Billy’ and Anna Hamlett Fort of Adams,
Tennessee. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Winnie was interested in family history and recorded much of
the Fort family history. “My grandfather, Eppa Lawson Fort, had been married
before he married Elizabeth Dancy. Their three sons were Jack, Ilai and Sugg.
Uncle Ilai married my grandmother’s sister, Charlotte, a most aristocratic old
lady. To my childish eyes she looked exactly like Queen Victoria of England. I
remember asking Aunt Charlotte why she could not be Queen Victoria now, as she
looked so much like her! I don’t believe the suggestion was well received…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Winnie was born 15 March 1894 at Maple Hill, near Adams. Her
father, Billy Fort, died just before Winnie’s sixteenth birthday (1910). Six
months later on 10 September, she married J. Comer Gardner. Comer was the twin
brother of Miss Cullom Gardner. Comer and Cullom were the children of Thomas
Irvin and Ida Whitehead Gardner.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Winnie Fort and Comer Gardner were the parents of three
daughters. Mildred Winnie Gardner was born in 1911. She married Charles Wright,
Jr. on 5 Jan 1935 in Houston, Texas. In an interview, Winnie recalled, “My
daughter, Mildred was born in my old home, Maple Hill, in the same room, and
even in the same bed! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marjorie Comer Gardner was born in 1916 in Weakley County,
Tennessee. In 1940, she married Randol Sterling Harrison from Cedar Hill. The
Harrisons were the parents of one daughter, Mary Gail, and moved to Maryland.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">The youngest daughter, Mary Fort Gardner, was born in 1917
in Weakley County, Tennessee. In 1936, she married Nathan Cope of Robertson
County. To this couple was born one daughter Cynthia Cope, who lived in Clarksville. After Mr. Cope died, Mary Fort married Clarence Fletcher of
Adams. Mrs. Fletcher died in 2013. .<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Comer and Winnie Fort Gardner moved to Weakley county to
take advantage of the excellent schools in the community. By 1920, the family
lived at 303 8<sup>th</sup> Avenue South in Nashville. Comer was working as a
clerk for the newspaper. Winnie was maintaining a household with three small
daughters.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">In July 1920, Comer moved to Detroit, Michigan to work.
Winnie and her daughters moved back to Robertson County with family. Comer
hoped to come back quickly and move his family to Michigan. Whatever the
circumstances were, Comer’s visit did not result in the family moving. By 1922,
Winnie and Comer were divorced. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mrs. Gardner went to Florida with her mother, Anna Fort.
Winnie met and married a man from a pioneer Texas family. On December 9, 1922,
Minor A. Hurst and Winnie Fort Gardner began their life together. Mr. Hurst
worked for the Gulf Oil Corporation. He retired in 1954. Winnie Fort Hurst died
in 1978 in McClennan County, Texas.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Billy Fort, Jr. was born 15 June 1900 at Maple Hill near
Adams. Billy married Louise Johnson in 1925 and had two sons, William Dancy
Fort, III and Robert Olin Fort. In 1946, William Dancy ‘Billy’ Fort, Jr.
married Thelma Brown from Waco, Texas. They lived in Houston, where Mr. Fort
was connected with the Citizens State Bank. He died in 1988 at McClennan
County, Texas<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Dear Santa Claus:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Please bring me an air gun, some story books, a pair of gloves,
a suit of clothes and lots of good things to eat. Yours Truly,<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Frank Huddleston, Springfield, Tenn.</i></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank Huddleston was born 20 October 1896 in Robertson
County, Tennessee. He was the son of John M. and Ida Traughber Huddleston. The
family lived in the Owens Chapel community.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank was inducted into the Army as a result of the World
War I draft of 1918. He served with the 157<sup>th</sup> Depot Brigade to
August of 1918. He was sent to France with the 161<sup>st</sup> Infantry,
Company L and became part of the 165<sup>th</sup> Infantry, Company G for the
duration of his service. He was honorably discharged on 8 May 1919.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">After returning to the community, Frank married a young lady
named Beatrice in 1924. They had a son, John F. Huddleston and a daughter, Mary
L. Huddleston. Frank’s father, John M Huddleston, lived with the family. They
lived on Orlinda Road. Frank Huddleston died 10 November 1964 and is buried in
Elmwood Cemetery.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">One hundred and seventeen years ago, young boys and girls were excited
about the coming of the jolly old elf from the North Pole. Perhaps things are
not as different as we often suggest. Children still provide the excitement and
passion for holidays and our dearest memories are those from our childhood. May
you and your family have a special holiday season filled with the joys of the
season. </span></b><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sources: Nashville Banner (15 Dec 1904); A Family Called
Fort (Fort, Jones); U.S. Census (1900, 1910, 1920, 1930); WWI Statement of
Service Cards; Robertson Co. Tenn Cemeteries; Chancery Court records<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-15709030470329383592021-12-21T19:13:00.000-06:002021-12-21T19:13:08.481-06:00Letters to Santa in 1903 - A Look Back to Christmas Past<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Children in Robertson County Tennessee have always found a way to
inform Santa of the treasures they hope to find under their tree on Christmas
morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the items requested
have changed, the letters still remind us of the joys of being a child at
Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These letters to Santa,
originally published in December 1903, were printed in the Nashville papers. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;">It is interesting to see how the requests change from year-to-year, while the letters continue to be sent. Enjoy this look back, and you continue to celebrate this Holiday Season. </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa: I am a little Country Boy Eight years old and
all I ask<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you to bring me is a little 22
rifle like that which Eldridge Douglas has.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He lives on Fatherland Street [Nashville]. I would like to have a knife,
some Candies and nuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Papa takes the
Banner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can I see this letter again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Alonzo Morris</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">White House, Tenn<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa, I am a little Country Boy and don’t get to see
you so I will rite the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Banner as my Papa
takes that paper that you will see what I want is a little toy Pistol, some
bananas, candy, small knife and Oranges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am onley 6 years old<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alesson Morris<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">White House, Tenn<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Santa Claus,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am four years old and my little brother Reuben is
two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want a doll, and a doll wardrobe
and a trunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reuben wants a play doll
that will not break and a wagon and a box of candy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My big brother Jack is eight, and he wants
some skates and some leggins and we all want lots of good things and some
firecrackers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish you would bring Ed
something too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is our nurse I am
most always good and Reuben is sweet as sugar.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Kate Wimberly Killebrew<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Guthrie, Kentucky<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Santa Claus</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am eight years old and I have gotten fourteen head marks
in spelling, and my Grandpa has given me a nice knife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want you to bring me an air gun, a watch
and a bridle and saddle so I can ride the mules.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can ride my self without a saddle, but I
will need some more halters for them pretty soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want some oranges and other good things and
some firecrackers, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a real good
boy most all the time, you can ask my Grandpa.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">J. Buckner Killebrew<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Guthrie, Ky<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Santa Clause</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have been a good little boy. I want a twenty-two rifle, a
pair of gloves, a pair of overshoes and leguns and candy, nuts oranges, apples.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">William Williamson<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Greenbrier, Tenn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Santa Cluase</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have been going to school and I would be very glad if you
would bring me a nice writing desk and stool, a pair of leggings, a football, 1
dozen longest Roman candles, some small fire crackers, some mice things to eat
and I would like best of all to have a nice axe and saw, so that I may get in
wood when Papa is away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I shall sleep
soundly<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank Douglas Heflin<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cedar Hill, Tenn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Old Santa Claus</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am a little girl 6 years old and living with my
grandpa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My name is Julia Armstrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My grandpa is taking the Nashville
Banner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was looking over Banner and saw
the Beauty beneath he Mistletoe, the Holly Wreath, and Young Hearts beneath the
Mistletoe, and I was very much pleased when I heard grandpa reading your
advertisement, and I thought I would write you a few lines and see if Dear Old
Santa would bring me something nice Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know I would pleased very much to find something nice in my stockings
Christmas morning<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Julia Armstrong<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa Claus<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Please bring me some books, a tool chest with tools and I
will promise not to cut, saw or nail on any part of the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring sister a doll, set of dishes, safe and
anything else that will suit a nice little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring my little brother a metal doll and
building blocks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Your little friends,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">George Elmer Batts<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Springfield, Tenn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Santy</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I want you to be here this Christmas and bring me a 22 rifle
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Peck’s Bad Boy</i> which is a book
and some other books besides and some steam articles and don’t forget that
rifle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure I want some candy nuts and
all kind of things to eat I need some shoes and a rain coat too, but I can do
without them if you wont forget that rifle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I want some fireworks though and any thing else you will be kind enough
to bring but be sure to bring the rifle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Your good friend.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fred Moore Smith<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Springfield, Tenn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">P.S. Be sure to remember the
Banner man.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">My darling Santa<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">How are you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope
you are alright and will be sure to come Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am going to look for you because I have
been a good girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have kept my doll
nice and you need not bring me another but sure Santa she needs some clothes
and I hope you will bring her some and please bring me a diamond ring, a good
fairy tale book, a pretty piece of music, Some more dishes to match the last
ones, a mackintosh, some leggins and plenty to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be sure to bring brother all he wants and my
cousins William, Ruth, and Lealand too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do not for get Mother, Father, and Mr. Head. Rappy Granny and all the
poor children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanking you for coming
last Christmas and hoping you will come again I am your loving little girl.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Rebecca Florence Smith<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Springfield, Tenn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Old Santa</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am a little girl 9 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go to school every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never missed a day yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want you to bring me a nice doll, a new
cloak and some nuts, candy fruits and figs, and anything else you think is nice
for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So good bye Santa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your little girl<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Laura Cook<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>My Dear Old Santa Clause</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Please bring me a doll with brown hair and eyes that will go
to sleep, a speech book, a game , a story book, some nice candy, nuts, oranges,
and some fireworks , and anything else you have for nice little girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your little friend,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Virginia B. Couts<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Springfield, Tenn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> __________________________________________________________________________________</span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa Clause<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>years old and I
have been a good little boy, so I hope you won’t forget me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old Santa Clause please bring me a large
brass cannon that will shoot a rubber ball and a large engine that I can set in
and run it, that is if you have one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bring me a velocipede with a bell on it, and some talc to write on my
blackboard with. I will leave the rest to you. I forgot to say I wanted some
nuts and oranges an bananas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good by
Santa, I remain truly yours.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lemoyne Baskette<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>__________________________________________________________________________________</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Old Santa Clause<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am a little boy 7 years old, and I would like for you to
bring me a game of Authors, a speech book, a bear jumping the rope, some
fireworks, lots of candy, nuts, oranges and anything else you may have for nice
little boys and please bring my little brother, Bryan, a little red wagon, a
monkey that will walk around when you wind him up, and some nice things to
eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your little friend,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Haywood Couts<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Springfield, Tenn<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">PS<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will be at Aunt Mattie Mason’s that night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Santa Clause</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Please bring me and my brother Robert all kinds of candy,
and nuts, oranges, apples, wax and cheese and crackers. Bring me a doll a large
one that will cry and go to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
would like to have a set of furniture for it to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring Robert a little train and some
firecrackers and roman cannons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yours<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Minnie and Robert Fry<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa Clause<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I live in Springfield, Tenn., on Spring Street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go to school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want a nice doll, kid body, Golden curls of
natural hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would like a nice Book
also a Game and anything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll take
all you bring with many thanks to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bring my Mother a new Drugget for her room and for Father a nice pair of
Gloves would suit him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go to see my
little Nephew Altman Brooks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lives in
Birmingham, Ala.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please carry him
everything a little boy would like for I want him to have lots of fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With much love I am your little girl.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lula D. Robertson<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">P.S. Please carry Sister something nice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Springfield,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tenn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Dear Old Santa Claus</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am five years old and am a very good boy and especially
when I am asleep and if you will bring me the following for Xmas I’ll try very
hard to be a beter boy next year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want
a writing desk with slates on it a Drum, Horn, picture book, a pistol and some
fireworks, Mamma will furnish the candy, nuts, oranges and all things good to
eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I forgot the doll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want a nice little doll dressed in pink
with bloomer drawers on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">John Thomas Lowe<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">P.S. Don’t forget my sister and little brother.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa Claus<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>I am just 3 years old and am sick with a very bad cold and
mamma will not let me go out, and I want some new playthings to keep me from
crying so much. The doctor is coming
tonight to see me and I hope to be better tomorrow. Please bring me a tricycle, little desk, a
little drum and drumstick to hit it with, a doll, picture book and a little
horse and anything else you can spare.
Also some blocks to build with. I
want to be well to enjoy it Christmas.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Harold Gladstone Lowe<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p>Mr Sandy Claws</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">United States of America<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Sandy<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you please bring me some raisins and nuts and candy, and
oranges and apples and knife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
been a bad boy all the year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t be
a good boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yours truly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">J.C. Hollingsworth<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Barren Plains, Tenn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dear Santa Claus<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am a little boy seven years old, I went to school every
day until two months ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fell and
broke my left arm, but I hope too be able to attend regular after Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dear Santa I’ve tried to be a good boy, and
want you to bring me a real little train, a big horn, a big drum, a lot of
fireworks, a large book telling all about the Presidents of our country, a
chair, a basket of fruit,. Please bring them to my Ma’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dear Santa be kind to all the orphans and don’t
forget my Ma, Pa and teacher she is so kind and good.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sheridan Redmond<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Guthrie, Ky.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
</div>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-46932957142956197452021-01-01T19:26:00.003-06:002023-12-31T19:58:11.448-06:00Remembering a First Memory! <p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My first cognizant memory was the New Years' Eve when I was two-years-old. I'm not sure why I remember it was that date, but know that the memory has always been my memory - not an event that my siblings or parents told. Both my Mom and Dad confirmed the memory over the years, but the clue was the fact that I had the <i>croup</i> that year. We were living in a house owned by Dr. Robert Elder, that was very near the feed mill owned by my parents. In fact, this lot adjoined the feed mill lot. [Important for a genealogist, who always tries to put the whole story together.]</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I was feeling better in the evening, and was lying on the couch wrapped up. Soon, people in the neighborhood (town of Cedar Hill) were shooting fireworks in celebration of the coming New Year. I'm sure that my brothers had a few firecrackers and maybe a few rockets of their own to propel in the stars. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I remember Dad picking me up off of the couch, and wrapped me in a soft, orange plaid blanket with satin wrapped bound edges. He carried me outside to see the fireworks. I remember the laughter of my siblings, the noise of firecrackers, the oohs when a colorful rocket exploded in the air, and the brilliant colors. As the fireworks continued, I remember seeing the bright light reflecting on my Dad's face. I was warm, secure and protected. There were other people around watching these fireworks outside, but, mostly, I remember seeing the faces of my family. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pqQFMjKLGtcZBa4zJ6cs7n81Vm6Bas2EKllcrJJ-HZ-ddBbFqCIbKphiTeCkfUHNH3QSe88XTWp8LQEaxY6ciVzOKup-6-31XQRq1XYrbFe86186bShLPxfgE-wqm6jgPLiqPDjHkrI/s1074/Mark_1958couch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pqQFMjKLGtcZBa4zJ6cs7n81Vm6Bas2EKllcrJJ-HZ-ddBbFqCIbKphiTeCkfUHNH3QSe88XTWp8LQEaxY6ciVzOKup-6-31XQRq1XYrbFe86186bShLPxfgE-wqm6jgPLiqPDjHkrI/s320/Mark_1958couch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My older brothers always enjoyed shooting fireworks. This pattern continued into adulthood. Other than this strange year because of the COVID-19 pandemic, we have gathered in the Summer to enjoy fireworks at my brother - Denny's house. As a fireman, he always ensured that the fireworks were handled safely, always made with proper precautions, and available equipment. As the younger nieces and nephews grew, they were allowed to participate in the family tradition.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfTLdzd3TXFrCVIi3Xske1bPF2Waqu8DPe0C_fayGKGyH38zNNCl78M8MBsrBrv0wobzrcGIfE4lORpPqAfRpDA06spgy-LPOl2Aw7LEm2Y6gcZTI8Ez4rU3BrMygAezOC7QVJxVFj_w/s604/Family1958.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfTLdzd3TXFrCVIi3Xske1bPF2Waqu8DPe0C_fayGKGyH38zNNCl78M8MBsrBrv0wobzrcGIfE4lORpPqAfRpDA06spgy-LPOl2Aw7LEm2Y6gcZTI8Ez4rU3BrMygAezOC7QVJxVFj_w/s320/Family1958.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: large;">I think that the reason this memory remains so vivid in my mind, is that it includes the faces of my family. My family has always provided a warm, secure place to grow, be loved, and be encouraged. It has been a long time, but FAMILY ALWAYS COUNT! I understand that not all of us have been blessed to grow in an family like this. I wish all of you a HAPPY NEW YEAR that brings you joy, love and happiness in your life. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I look forward to sharing more of my memories with you in the coming days. Memories shared are part of Keeping The Story Alive! J. Mark Lowe</span></p>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com2Robertson County, TN, USA36.5250666 -86.8621826999999918.2148327638211569 -122.01843269999999 64.835300436178841 -51.705932699999991tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-49624867774200513392019-12-22T13:28:00.000-06:002019-12-22T13:28:01.243-06:00Growing Up Christmas, Part 2<div class="MsoNormal">
We continue the stories from Christmas long ago. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the feed mill, my Dad would let me play with his adding
machine, which had large type bars which came up when you pulled the handle. I
liked putting in all nines, so the bars would come all the way up. Eventually,
the noise would be too much and he would tell me I could go sweep the
warehouse. Now this was a code word to
me that I could go play. He only let me sweep when we weren’t busy at the feed
mill. If you have never been to a feed mill, there was dust everywhere. So I would go out and tell my brothers that
Dad said we could sweep. We would all
fight over the big broom, but would all grab one and start sweeping. The feed mill had beautifully finished
hardwood floors, which would have been suitable for a fine town home, and
therefore were easy to sweep. Once we had gathered up all of the dust, we knew
we had time for some play. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were moving dollies or hand trucks that were used to
stack large bags of feed to be moved to and from the dock. The ones at the feed mill were made of wood
with metal reinforcements and a metal tongue for stacking. They were excellent at rolling young children
to and fro on a newly-swept hardwood floor. Wayne and Denny would take turns rolling
each other and me, although they often would roll me into a wall of bags. We would all laugh and continue to play until
a customer drove up, or Dad gave us another assignment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If Mom had to go to town to finish shopping without the
prying eyes of children, Dad would take us to lunch at the Cedar Hill Grill
later known as the Golden Point Restaurant and Motel. Charles B. and Lucille
Fulks Powell ran the service station on Highway 41 in Cedar Hill. In the early
1950s they added a motel and small restaurant that was named Cedar Hill Grill
and Motel. Many of the local residents remember the restaurant and motel. It was famous for the good country cooking
and homemade pies. Mrs. Powell made all of the pies from her own recipes even
down to the crust. Pecan, Chocolate, Coconut, and fruit pies were often on the
menu. The restaurant when full to capacity, which was most of the time, held 35
people. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wayne, Denny and I usually got hamburgers and fries, while
Dad often ordered a regular plate lunch. We almost always got dessert, which
for me was a slice of warm pecan pie with ice cream. I can still remember some
of the conversations between my Dad and brothers at lunch. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once we headed back to the feed mill, we would enjoy all of
the wonderful farmers who traded with my Dad. We had a great opportunity to
know so many extraordinary people, who played such a large part in our lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve already shared my shopping experience at Gregg’s 5 and
10. The way this secretive shopping worked was I brought all of the items to
the front, while my Mom shopped in another part of the store. My purchases would be rung up, bagged and
held until my Mom finished. My total was
six dollars. I had purchased over ten items, including a large plastic flute
for my brother, Denny, a stuffed dog for my sister, Beverly, a tie clip for my
brother, Joe, and a checker game for my brother, Wayne. When we got home, I knew that I had to hide
the flute from Denny, (he had a reputation of sneaking under the tree) so I
stuck it inside a paper towel cardboard roll and hid it under my pillow. My sister, Beverly, helped me wrap all of the
presents (but hers) and label them with tags.
She even helped me wrap the flute, which I hid under my pillow again, so
Denny wouldn’t find it under the tree. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Christmas always included lots of friends and family in our
house. This meant that where the kids slept often moved from night-to-night.
Remember I had hidden Denny’s gift, a red plastic flute, under my pillow to
keep him from discovering it. At that time, the Lowe boys slept in bunkbeds
made from heavy angle iron. I slept on the bottom bunk and Denny slept on the
top bunk, while Wayne and Joe slept in matching bunkbeds on the other wall.
With cousins, Uncles and Aunts added to the household, it was always chaotic,
but fun. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Somewhere in the hustle and bustle in the days before
Christmas, there was wrapping of presents hidden on every bed and table in the
household. The resulting trash paper would be bundled up for burning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, Christmas Eve arrived and it was time for Christmas
in the Lowe household. We had a wonderful dinner that definitely included Aunt
Martha’s fruit salad, Miss Lucille’s chocolate or caramel pie, and rolls. It
seemed that we young kids could move through that wonderful meal in
seconds. “Let’s open presents,” became
our refrain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Minutes seemed like hours as we sat under the tree waiting
for the adults to finish their holiday dinner. Occasionally, someone would
remind us not to touch the treasures under the Christmas tree. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, everyone would crowd around the living room and the
Christmas tree. Every chair would be moved into the room and once everyone was
seated, it was time. Denny and I would
be selected to distribute the gifts to the waiting crowd. Every tag was read
aloud. Wayne would help me with the
poorly written names. There were gifts from “Guess Who?” This usually meant they were from Aunt Martha
and Uncle Kenny. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once the gifts were distributed, we started with the
youngest child and worked our way to the oldest. At this point in time I was
the youngest and began to discover the wonderful treasures in my pile. I remember among this year’s gifts a wind-up
lion toy, a peppermint stick as thick as my brother’s arm, and a new blue
notebook with paper. We then moved to
one of my cousins, then another, then finally time for Denny. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He opened his gifts, thanking the givers, then turning to
another package. As he opened his last
gift, I said, “Where’s your present from me?”
As we looked again under the tree, and everyone examined their
pile. I remembered it was hidden under
my pillow. Running to the bunk bed and
feeling under my pillow, there was no present. We looked all around the bedroom
and someone suggested they had picked up some red paper from the bedroom and
discarded it in the trash can. Our search went to the trash can. There was no
flute. We finally decided it had been
thrown away and burned in our trash pile earlier that day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although Denny was not upset, I described his red flute in
great detail. Fortunately, we are able to laugh about that little red flute
even today. <o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">May your family have a blessed Christmas and a
wonderful New Year. Remember to share your memories with your family. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 10pt; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZO-EadEGYYJcbfu_ztwInnhLoZpG4rQwrXLK3tYi6Z6Gg4QUVjV25fg2U9-YshX5K3Hw9QPNqRJFxjvk32rxsppTnpHT2y6WX8rvipDC5Qj_vmIrFkrpLzyHIhq_JFZZf3Pq99fj14Bc/s1600/Lowes_1954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1216" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZO-EadEGYYJcbfu_ztwInnhLoZpG4rQwrXLK3tYi6Z6Gg4QUVjV25fg2U9-YshX5K3Hw9QPNqRJFxjvk32rxsppTnpHT2y6WX8rvipDC5Qj_vmIrFkrpLzyHIhq_JFZZf3Pq99fj14Bc/s320/Lowes_1954.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-28895098974309774642019-12-21T13:32:00.000-06:002019-12-21T13:32:06.252-06:00Growing Up Christmas, Part One<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-g-WhQsVpRvUXeTrP49eAHiTdA2xoDl51_wCt5SBKKMiszTe9YOSvqg0mMtkxXZhuJiPZHljEhEnxSJsGpW3x2V1-wteh0yBimBgARhvpy3PoGaQNA79GVtDpI4g0xgATsvaQYD9WLX4/s1600/Lowe_1960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="913" data-original-width="1031" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-g-WhQsVpRvUXeTrP49eAHiTdA2xoDl51_wCt5SBKKMiszTe9YOSvqg0mMtkxXZhuJiPZHljEhEnxSJsGpW3x2V1-wteh0yBimBgARhvpy3PoGaQNA79GVtDpI4g0xgATsvaQYD9WLX4/s320/Lowe_1960.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Photo:Family and Friends gathered for a Lowe Family Christmas
celebration: (L to R) Frank T. Jones, Denny Lowe (known for sneaking under the
Christmas tree), Flossie Denton Haynes, Mark Lowe (down in front), Lucille
Chester Jones Smith, Wayne Lowe (enjoying some nog). </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While touring the wonderful homes on the Historic Homes
Christmas Tour this weekend, I felt a warm, traditional feeling come over me.
It reminded me of the days not so long ago, when the last day of school before
Christmas meant the Holiday was upon us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Join me as I go back a few years to one of those days. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I ran into the house, my Mom and sister were waiting to
take me to town to finish up our shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now I thought I was really finished anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had bought my school friends’ and teacher’s
gifts, plus I had spent several dollars at Gossett’s General Store on the
important gifts I bought my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
hopped into our big green Oldsmobile and headed to Springfield, while a light
snow continued to fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped at
Kroger’s first, then headed over to Ehrenwald’s for several boxes; down to
Randolph House & Co for some other items; and down the hill to Gregg’s for
our last bit of shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Mom asked
if I needed to do any more Christmas shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I told her I would like to get a few things for the family and went down
the aisles to complete my purchases.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The way this secretive shopping worked was I brought all of
the items to the front, while my Mom shopped in another part of the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My purchases would be rung up, bagged and
held until my Mom finished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My total was
six dollars. I had purchased over ten items, including a large plastic flute
for my brother, Denny, a stuffed dog for my sister, Beverly, a tie clip for my
brother, Joe, and a checker game for my brother, Wayne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we got home, I knew that I had to hide
the flute from Denny, (he had a reputation of sneaking under the tree) so I
stuck it inside a paper towel cardboard roll and hid it under my pillow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister, Beverly, helped me wrap all of the
presents (but hers) and label them with tags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She even helped me wrap the flute, which I hid under my pillow again, so
Denny wouldn’t find it under the tree. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was still a few days until Christmas, so it seemed that
the hours just dragged along. The weather was really cold, so to go outside one
had to wear several layers of clothing and then put on the heavy waterproof
coat with a hood along with a muffler wrapped around your face. I think this is
why we all appreciate the scene from Randy (the brother) falling down in Jean
Shepherd’s Christmas Story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once you
were bundled up and couldn’t move around we could venture out for a few
minutes, until the face turned red and then you were ordered back into the
house to warm up. The only time we could stay out a little longer was when we
were feeding our baby calves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would
heat up enough water to mix with powdered milk formula for the calves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brothers would argue over who got to pop
the nipple over the bottle, but eventually we would head out to the pens to
feed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We usually got these calves from
Mr. Leon Haynes, who had culled them from his dairy herd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The calves would nudge and butt us, which was
a natural way to stimulate their mothers to provide milk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was small enough that they often just
knocked me over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brothers would laugh
and tell me to hold on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would get back
up and try again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Occasionally we would
have a calf, which would bite on the bottle so hard, they would pull the nipple
off and the milk would run out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If this
happened, one of us had to start over with that calf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brothers could hold the bottle close to
the calf’s mouth to prevent this, but my hands were too small and it was all I
could do to hold the bottle anyway. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I was lucky, Dad (J. W. Lowe) would take me to the Feed
Mill on the days when we were out of school. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Feed Mill was located in Cedar Hill where the road split
between Main Street and Washington Road. Across the street was the Cedar Hill
Methodist Church and next door was the Cedar Hill Baptist Church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, the site of the Feed Mill is the
parking lot of the Baptist Church. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were four steep steps to the front door of the Feed
Mill. At least they were very steep to a youngster like me. A storm door opened
outward, which served as an additional obstacle to one short like me. Once
inside, it was a kids’ dream – jars of bagged peanuts, a candy bar machine and
a soft drink cooler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The office was
closed off from the rest of the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were various types of heaters over the years from milk room
electric heaters to propane heaters, but there was always a place to warm up.
The balance of the building was unheated, which meant we had to store the extra
soft drinks in the office to keep them from freezing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brothers, Denny and Wayne were the masters
of making a drink freeze just right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Once frozen to the right consistency, they would roll the bottle in
their hands until the soft drink became a slushy treat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of our favorite frozen drinks was Kick, a
drink very similar to Mountain Dew. RCs or Royal Crown colas were a close
second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the weather was warmer, we
were satisfied with a bag of peanuts poured into an RC cola. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Join me next week for more Christmas stories and fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Be sure to share your Christmas
memories with your family over the next few days. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-69671768373692019-11-21T16:45:00.002-06:002019-11-21T16:45:46.677-06:00World War One Veterans Are Gone, But Where Are There Records?<br />
Sadly, I read this morning that Frank W. Buckles died yesterday on his farm in West Virginia. <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/02/28/AR2011022800165.html">Washington Post Article</a> Mr. Buckles was the last living U.S. Veteran of World War I (WW1). It seemed like I interviewed several living WW1 Veterans from Tennessee and Kentucky only a few days ago. As I checked my file, the interviews were done in 1998 and 1999, with the 90th Anniversary of the War. <br />
The first-hand accounts of the battles from the perspective of these heroes had often never been discussed with their families. One soldier had his son locate an old box. The man said he hadn't opened this box in years, but wanted to share what was inside. Inside were photographs taken my this soldier. A few of the photographs were of young men excited to be going overseas, but the tone turned as they moved to the front. The pictures were somber and dark. They included dead soldier lying in trenches, other bodies piled in mud and water. <br />
This man said to me, "I spent all of my life trying to forget those months."<br />
If you have family members from this time period, consider the records that might have been created.<br />
Although Woodrow Wilson had declared his intention to keep America neutral in this conflict, the nation declared war on April 17, 1917. Before the war ended, more than four million “doughboys” had served in the U.S. Army with American Expeditionary Forces (AEF), U.S. Navy, or Marines.<br />
Under the Selective Service laws enacted in Congress in 1917, all men (U.S. citizens and aliens) born between September 1873 and September 1900 were required to register with the local draft board. The Draft Registration cards provide information not only about the soldiers who served, but about men in the community who registered for the draft. These records are available at many state libraries and Archives, Ancestry.com and the National Archives in Washington, DC. The original draft registration cards are located in the National Archives-Southeast Region in Morrow, Georgia.<br />
There were three dates of WWI draft registration: 5 June 1917 for those age 21-31; June and August 1919, for those age 21 since first registration; and 2 Sept 1918, for those age 18-21 and age 31-45.<br />
Comer Apple was born at Carthage, Tennessee in 1895. He was the son of Tom and Effie Apple. The family moved to Robertson County after 1910. His siblings were Bailey, Tommie, Della, Jones, S.T. , Olcie, and Woodard. Comer registered for the draft in Springfield. He was inducted on 21 September 1917 and joined the Company A Engineers. He was overseas from 1 May 1918 until 2 April 1919. He was honorable discharged on 16 April 1919.<br />
After the great war, Comer married and settled into the Coopertown area. He and Sallie raised their children, Comer L., Virginia, and Buford. In addition to the direct official records created, there are many other records of the events surrounding the World war. Remember the first step of genealogy, which also applies here - Start with yourself and your home. Be sure to look for World War I era certificates or medals. Don’t forget to check the newspapers of larger towns, which was the collection point for companies. There are daily accounts of soldiers’ enlistments and company movements. In addition, there are regular accounts of the events in Europe and even larger accounts of the Armistice and Victory continuing into 1919. There are many more records, which we will discuss later. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNw6gHRm0pcZ95W7yORL2tBlW0Dh8-KG3HpHhywPyfJFizYFQ2afDYMvnCjc0vKTWHzzhy5n9vpSG2TCn4T7NMNccJyyd8DgX4ECc0D5PZckIlH3qAJn8GJsroB31-6Aqr2Ro9PkqcDHU/s1600/ComerApple.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578862892373551218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNw6gHRm0pcZ95W7yORL2tBlW0Dh8-KG3HpHhywPyfJFizYFQ2afDYMvnCjc0vKTWHzzhy5n9vpSG2TCn4T7NMNccJyyd8DgX4ECc0D5PZckIlH3qAJn8GJsroB31-6Aqr2Ro9PkqcDHU/s400/ComerApple.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Start by reviewing these websites:</span><br />
<br /><a href="http://www.loc.gov/vets/stories/ex-war-wwi.html">Experiencing War: World War I; Veterans History Project, Library of Congress</a><br />
<br /><a href="http:">Cyndi's List; WW1</a><br />
<a href="http://www.archives.gov/news/stories/draft-registration-cards/">National Archives; International Researchers 'jazzed' over WW1 Draft Cards</a><br />
<a href="http://friendsnas.org/pdf_files/military/WWIDraftRequest.pdf">World War I Draft Registration Card Request Form; Friends of the National Archives, Southeast Region</a><br />
<a href="http://search.ancestry.com/search/db.aspx?dbid=6482">Ancestry; Link to World War I Draft Registration (requires subscription)</a><br />
Be sure to records this information in your family files, and also share with repositories where others can locate. Remember to keep the story alive.<br />
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J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-68460450944822342332019-11-21T16:45:00.001-06:002019-11-21T16:45:21.290-06:00Finding MORE Vital Records for Our ResearchI have used County Histories for years, but have noticed recently that certain volumes contain very specific vital records. <br />
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Check out this YouTube video with some examples I found. <a href="https://youtu.be/Ocz5PZM6DAk">https://youtu.be/Ocz5PZM6DAk</a>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-42089743568265337562019-11-05T18:46:00.001-06:002019-11-05T18:47:53.275-06:00Reviewing Old Files and Notes I have been researching since I was seven years old, so I have collected 55 years of papers and notes. I'm trying to handle those notes only _one more time! It is my attempt to add the data from that note to my Family Files/Database and be sure to include the proper source. I am also including a digital copy of that data in the file, so that these individual notes can be discarded.<br />
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My efforts include an attempt to ARRANGE the notes in a useful format (i.e. surnames, chronological, or locations); CONFIRM the data in the note or reference. This sometimes includes pulling the actual document, rather than an index entry. I also include a full citation of the source of the information. DIGITIZE the note, documents or at least provide an extraction of the important data.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeXIr5dNwE-DaNoZ3L6n4t0YawwNe6oB0iPi16FD07Y9dyR2lhNt72TdAsS5GU1U1bJjJN6UnjmxeJPSIwRkr-deCGWsCuG3XtNfI_htDi1mfAeeAZgixFNfVteE4FlYnvCrZUvdStrU/s1600/Death_P_A_Greathouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeXIr5dNwE-DaNoZ3L6n4t0YawwNe6oB0iPi16FD07Y9dyR2lhNt72TdAsS5GU1U1bJjJN6UnjmxeJPSIwRkr-deCGWsCuG3XtNfI_htDi1mfAeeAZgixFNfVteE4FlYnvCrZUvdStrU/s320/Death_P_A_Greathouse.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
Rather than reference an Index Entry to Kentucky Death Records, I consulted the copy of the actual Death Certificate. Reviewing this information and adding this source to my Family Files, encourages the inclusion of complete, accurate information.<br />
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Review this YouTube Discussion Here: <a href="https://youtu.be/LU7-0GV0E2M">https://youtu.be/LU7-0GV0E2M</a><br />
<br />J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-31601684271541735962019-02-27T11:17:00.001-06:002019-02-27T11:17:41.649-06:00Learning More About Dr. John Thomas Carman, the Original Owner of This Old BookVideo posted on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/JLoweGenealogy/" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/JLoweGenealogy/</a><br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This historic and very valuable book was given to me by my kind and lovable step-grandfather, Dr. John Thomas Carman. “ These words are written in the front of an original edition of Goodspeed’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">History of Tennessee</i>, published in 1886. I purchased this book from an old bookstore near downtown about thirty years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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John Thomas Carman was born in Macon County, Tennessee to William B. Carman and Nancy Stubblefield Carman. He was the sixth of seven children born to this couple. [Elizabeth, G.G., Sarah J., William R., Martha, John T. and Nellie H.] William B. is enumerated as a Carpenter in the 1860 census.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He married Ida C. Cornwall, the oldest daughter of Thomas Jesse Cornwell and Jane Draper Cornwall, also of Macon County, Tennessee.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Although I am still working on the medical career and history of Dr. Carman, a great deal of information was contained in an October 1989 article from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Monitor</i> published in McAllen, Texas. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The article focused on the renaming of the San Juan Elementary School to the Edith and Ethel Carman Elementary School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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According to Ethel, the family moved to Texas in 1931 after her father, Dr. John T. Carma, retired from active practice. “His health was poor and he wanted a warmer climate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not liking Florida, he chose to find out what South Texas was like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took us about four to five day to drive down from Tennessee. The roads were not very good back then. The roads in Arkansas were the worst, mostly gravel roads. The roads in Texas and Tennessee were much better.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We stayed at a tourist court in Edinburg and then got halfway to Pharr the next day and my father said, ‘That’s it. This is where I want to live.’ “<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Both of the Carman sisters received their bachelor’s degrees from West Kentucky State Teacher’s College in Bowling Green and later their Master’s degrees from George Peabody College from Nashville, Tennessee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both [sisters] taught in Tennessee for several years prior to moving to San Juan, Texas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of the combined total of 75 years taught in Pharr-San Juan- Alamo, Ethel taught for thirty-eight and Edith for thirty-seven. The two taught for combined total of 90 years, including the years taught in Tennessee."<o:p></o:p></div>
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This article made the connection of the Carman family to Texas, where Dr. John Thomas Carman was buried after his death in Franklin, Simpson County, Kentucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His wife, Ida, died in Texas in 1933.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He returned to Tennessee, where he married Ida Slate Patterson.<o:p></o:p></div>
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His obituary as published in the McAllen, Texas Monitor explains more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Funeral Services for Dr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>J.P. Carman, 89, a winter visitor in the Valley for the past 25 years, will be held Monday at 10 a.m. from the Virgil Wilson Funeral Home Chapel. The rites will be conducted by the R.F. Head of the Church of Christ at San Juan, assisted by Leon Davis of Weslaco. Burial will be in Roselawn Cemetery.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pallbearers will be A.R. Denton and J. B. Welch of Pharr; T.W. Worley of McAllen, E.E. Granes of Alamo, J.C. Foster of San Juan, and W.R. Dugger of Edinburg.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dr Carman died Wednesday of last week at his home in Franklin, Ky., He had been coming to the Valley each winter since 1933. A native of Tennessee, Dr. Carman was a practicing physician in Tennessee and Kentucky for 60 years. He had been a member of the Church of Christ for 70 years.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Surviving are his wife,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Ida Carman of Franklin, Ky., two daughters, Misses Ether and Edith Carman of San Juan, [son Paul E. Carman of Nashville, TN.]<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><b>I will continue to learn more about this great family, and feel honored to hold the book that<br />Dr. Carman purchased and read 133 YEARS AGO.</b></span></div>
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Sources: "School renaming to honor Edith and Ethel Carman," <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Monitor</i>, McAllen, Texas, 12 Oct 1989, p 33.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"J.T. Carman" Obituary, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Monitor</i>, McAllen Texas, Sunday, 5 Oct 1958, p 2<o:p></o:p><br />
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J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-12048461574840833992014-11-11T17:45:00.003-06:002014-11-11T17:45:58.227-06:00Veterans’ Day Began as Armistice Day<div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">On June 28, 1914 Gavrilo Princip, a young Bosnian
student who was living in Serbia, leaped on the car of the Archduke Ferdinand
(heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary) and began firing a gun. The Archduke and his wife, Sophie, died
immediately. By autumn, the Central
Powers (Austria-Hungary, Germany, and the Ottoman Empire) were at war with the
Allies (Belgium, France, Great Britain, Russia and Serbia.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The United States attempted to remain neutral during
the early part of the War. American
attitudes changed with the sinking of the Lusitania and Germany’s announcement
that they would begin unrestricted submarine warfare on all ships, including
passenger ships.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Although President Woodrow Wilson had declared his
intention to keep America neutral in this conflict, the nation declared war on
April 17, 1917. Before the war ended,
more than four million “doughboys” had served in the U.S. Army with American
Expeditionary Forces (AEF), U.S. Navy, or Marines.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In November 1919, President Wilson proclaimed November 11
as the first commemoration of Armistice Day with the following words: “To us in
America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in
the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for
the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because
of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and
justice in the councils of the nations…” The original concept for the
celebration was for a day observed with parades and public meetings and a brief
suspension of business beginning at 11:00 a.m. corresponding with the time the
Armitice began.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Congress passed a resolution on June 4, 1926, with
these words: Whereas the 11th of November 1918, marked the cessation of the
most destructive, sanguinary, and far reaching war in human annals and the
resumption by the people of the United States of peaceful relations with other
nations, which we hope may never again be severed, and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Whereas it is fitting that the recurring anniversary
of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises
designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between
nations; and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Whereas the legislatures of twenty-seven of our
States have already declared November 11 to be a legal holiday: Therefore be it
Resolved by the Senate (the House of Representatives concurring), that the
President of the United States is requested to issue a proclamation calling
upon the officials to display the flag of the United States on all Government
buildings on November 11 and inviting the people of the United States to
observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with
appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">On May 13, 1938, Congress made the 11th of November
in each year a legal holiday—a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace
and to be thereafter celebrated and known as “Armistice Day.” The name of the holiday was changed in 1954
to Veterans’ Day and became a day to honor American veterans of all wars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Louis Ernest Leffew was born on the 22nd of November
1884 in Elkton, Todd county, Kentucky. His parents were Elijah and M. Almeda
Leffew. The family moved to Robertson
county just one year later. Louis joined
the United States regular Army in the early part of 1913, and served in the
Philippines, Mexico and France. He left the U.S. with his command 14 June 1917
and was among the first U.S. troops to arrive in France. Louis entered the
battle zones for the first time on 3 February 1918 in the Toul sector of the
St. Mihiel front. On the morning of 1 March 1918, his company gave out of
ammunition and the German army was making continual counter attacks. Louis volunteered his services to secure
ammunition for his company. Facing death he went to the rear and brought up a
supply of ammunition that beat off the German attack at Toul, and soon after
this heroic deed, he was killed by a high explosive shell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The Springfield Register reported the following
headline: Springfield Soldier is Killed in France.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“News has been received in Springfield of the death
of Louis Ernest Leffew, who was killed in action at the front. The following
telegram has been received by his mother:
‘Washington DC Mrs M. A. Leffew,
Springfield, Tenn. – Deeply regret to inform you that Sergt. Louis E.
Leffew, Infantry, is officially reported as killed in action March 1. McCain,
the adjutant general.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">According to letters and reports, Leffew was loved
by all who knew him, and was loved for his bravery by each member of his
company, and was one of the bravest soldiers of his command. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The local newspaper reported, “It is glorious to die
for one’s country, for if the body mingles with the clods and dust, the soul
goes marching on, and just eight hours before Sergeant Leffew left the United
States for France, he gave his life to God. The price of liberty is the pain
and sacrifice, and the reward of sacrifice is the happiness of endless
generations. Out of heroes and services of men like Sergeant Leffew comes the
health of all nations.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Sergeant Leffew was originally buried in grave no
221, French Military Cemetery. In a 1918
letter to Leffew’s mother, Adjutant General Austin Parker explained that it was
not possible to remove the bodies of the dead back to the states before the
close of the War. He also stated such removal by individuals would be
impossible during the emergency, but the grave was carefully marked and
location recorded so there will be no difficulty in removal once the action
became practicable. He was buried in the
French Military Cemetery in Mandred on the 9th of March 1918 with a service by
Chaplain William A. Aiken. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Louis E. Leffew was laid to rest on 26 June of 1921
in Elmwood Cemetery by Robertson Post 48, American Legion and 60 ex-servicemen
from Robertson County. It was said that the largest crowd ever assembled in
Elmwood witnessed the burial. He was buried with full military honors. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Louis E. Leffew holds the distinction of being the
first Robertson county citizen killed in World War I. Let us remember both the
heroes who preserved and those who currently protect our freedom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-75404392351286566112014-08-07T15:33:00.002-05:002014-08-07T15:33:34.030-05:00Meeting Potential Family Members<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-VFQa45aKvFoGMxs4uNA5xTAYw2bBRjLSsd00GrkQ1uD7UlHuwAjIImwlSjbKXHMLEINbUbFrdGnGyGmOU0ffXf2COwTn43A1jKL-1ZsaP_XWfLh4ItQQ1fKMIxXv8eFDgXha7uahHhY/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-VFQa45aKvFoGMxs4uNA5xTAYw2bBRjLSsd00GrkQ1uD7UlHuwAjIImwlSjbKXHMLEINbUbFrdGnGyGmOU0ffXf2COwTn43A1jKL-1ZsaP_XWfLh4ItQQ1fKMIxXv8eFDgXha7uahHhY/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meeting Potential Family Members</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">J. Mark Lowe</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I headed to Adams,Tennessee today to have lunch with my brother, and his sons. It is always a pleasure to visit with them and learn what they have been up to lately. As I pulled into the driveway, I saw the older nephew leaned against the truck on his cell phone. He is a busy man, who is a full-time farmer, or should I say 24-hour-a-day farmer. He was taking this free moment to check on some equipment parts he ordered last week. While he finished the call, my brother and other son walked out to the truck. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We headed into <a href="http://www.mossrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Moss's Restaurant</a> for lunch and were greeted by many of the folks around also there for lunch. We all ordered and I included corn-on-the-cob, which was raised by the younger nephew sitting at our table. Since we are needing rain, the discussion of gathering all of the sweet corn orders today, and discussing the next round. In fact, one of the reasons I was there was to pick up the corn order of our sister-in-law. We were joined by the local Fire Chief, two EMTs from the County Ambulance Service, and a young man who works for the local water department. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As usual, we had an outstanding meal, including the great sweet white corn raised by my nephew. We had a discussion of the weather and what we might expect over the next month. August is always an interesting month, and the typical heat of Summer brings on the "Dog Days of August." Visiting in Adams is always a pleasant occasion, as I get to see many folks who have been friends for many years, including some who were friends of my siblings even longer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After finishing my meal, and enjoying my caramel pie, we headed outside. Our first perch was near the porch, where the discussion continued for a few moments, then we headed to the second perch, which was the truck where we all started. Some unknown gentlemen to me came out of the restaurant and walked near our perch. My brother and nephew spoke to them and walked nearer to talk with these gentlemen. As they spoke, I noticed my brother point in my direction, and then motioned for me to come near. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walking over to this discussion, my brother continued to tell them that I was a Genealogist. One of the gentlemen explained that he was married to a Lowe. I asked him from where did she grow up, and he replied <a href="http://kykinfolk.org/knox/" target="_blank">Knox County, Kentucky</a>. Now my joking side came out, even when I had not officially met this gentlemen - So you really married a girl from Barbourville? He said what do you know about Barbourville and Knox County - to which I shared that I had been there many times and visited often. He then asked me if I knew if we were related to any Lowes from that area. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a very common occurrence when a group of genealogists gather or Southerners try to connect families. I told him I was familiar with some families who were connected to Bird Lowe, who lived in West Virginia. That sounded familiar to him. We eventually agreed to share information, so I could compare my family to hers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm proud to say that he is our new Superintendent of Schools for this County, and came here from Scott County, Kentucky. [Georgetown] It amazes me how often my normal days become Genealogy Days, when I am with my Family. It is usual for folks to ask me questions about their family or local history events. Today, I will note that I ate great white sweet corn and caramel pie, met a potential family member [by marriage] and enjoyed the company of my brother, nephews and a few friends. A great time was had by all. </span>J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-17240498375337965892014-07-18T19:16:00.001-05:002014-07-18T19:16:33.805-05:00Two Delish Grape Sodas Remembered with Banana Pudding<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Two Delish Grape Sodas Remembered with Banana Pudding</span></b></div>
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J. Mark Lowe</div>
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Something happened today that reminded me of a great
kindness 55 years ago. On a bright
sunny morning, my Mom and I went to the grocery store in the little town where
I grew up. The store was called Gossett’s
General Store and it was a very typical store in many small towns across this
country. It was very unlike the grocery
stores where I shop today, and probably had more hardware and dry goods than
food. <o:p></o:p></div>
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On this particular day, we completed our business at the
store and as usual, I left with a piece or two of penny candy given to me by
Mr. Cecil Gossett. Actually, the candy
was probably more like 2 pieces for a nickel by then. Either way, I always loved going to the
store, and they were all so friendly and lovable folk. I’m sure I always got several hugs from the
ladies who worked there. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We loaded all of our groceries in the car, and headed back
towards home. We lived in the lower
level of a two story house owned by Dr. and Mrs. Elder. It was very close to my Dad’s feed mill. Mom crossed the railroad track and headed
over the hill and we could soon see the Cedar Hill Baptist Church on the left
and the Cedar Hill Methodist Church on the right. Lowe’s Feed Mill was also on the left past
the Baptist Church and my Mom pulled the car toward the hill to park in front
of the feed mill. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzErXcyU4d5KJc81hexpwMVi_O9-qWn1pZfQlo0mOZ3VD-kjmM6sEBGflnznaeUCUCOf1E7hePf75vjjDx8AXHu6ueoDYFXz_pzSReZRRBmFg4aNUNNGvc3hjxRzoLJoW6ckUVJWsQO4/s1600/Rebuild_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzErXcyU4d5KJc81hexpwMVi_O9-qWn1pZfQlo0mOZ3VD-kjmM6sEBGflnznaeUCUCOf1E7hePf75vjjDx8AXHu6ueoDYFXz_pzSReZRRBmFg4aNUNNGvc3hjxRzoLJoW6ckUVJWsQO4/s1600/Rebuild_2.JPG" height="263" width="320" /></a></div>
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I loved that feed mill, although I was so small that the
wooden front steps, left me too short to even reach the knob to open the
door. My Dad had added a storm door to
the large wooden door, and the storm door opened out. Perhaps he saw that choice as a measure to
block his youngest son from entering the business without warning. It worked most of the time. Although my Mom was not too far behind, I ran
ahead and tried to open the door. Fortunately, I looked up and Mr. Fred Haley,
who worked with my Dad, was there to let me into the office and make me feel
like a Prince. Of course, all 2-1/2 year
old children get special treatment, but Mr. Fred made me feel so special. Just to make you understand how wonderful it
was to be here, my Dad spoiled me with my favorite soft drink in the world –
Delish Grape Soda. It was locally
bottled by the Coca-Cola Bottling Works in Springfield, TN, but being this
young, I had not grown to enjoy the cola like this stout grape drink. As I headed for the soft drink cooler, my
Mom said, “We are heading home, and he needs to eat lunch.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Devastated, I’m sure my jaw dropped to the floor and my eyes
sunk into the backward reach of my depression.
I sat down on one of the three-legged stools and could imagine the very
touch of that Delish Grape Drink bottle on my tongue. Oh well, I actually sat quietly and listened
to my Mom talk with my Dad. It seemed
like a long time, but was only a few seconds or even a minute, and she
indicated we were ready to leave. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I hopped off my three-legged stool and headed for the door,
with my head still hung in loss. I
hugged my Dad, and turned to hug Mr. Fred, and there he stood with two bottles
of Delish Grape Soda in his hand. He
said, “I’m sure these will keep until later this afternoon.” He handed the bottles to me and I held them
one in each hand, as though I was carrying gold. I’m sure my gloom turned into smiles and
sunshine and I bounded to the door like I had hit a Grand Slam. The door was still an obstacle and my Mom
opened the door, and before I could step out of the door, I was lifted up in
the arms of an angel. Mr. Fred carefully
picked me up and carried me and my treasure safely down to the car. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I sat in the car, contemplating the wonderful treat that Mr.
Fred had bestowed upon me. My Mom
backed the car into the street and we headed the very short distance to our
house. Our porch was a wide concrete
porch with one step from the ground to door level. I held those bottles as though they
contained life-giving serum for the world.
I stood while my Mom opened the big screen door and reached to open the
inner door, when the world stopped. The
screen door bumped me and I lost my grip in both hands. Ohhhh!
The bottles fell from my hands and hit that concrete porch. I’ve heard folks talking about how there are moments time stands still and then moves forward very slowly.
I still remember watching the bottles head downward and appearing to
bounce, as fountains of deep purple and blue liquid danced in the air as the
bottle burst on the concrete porch. My
hands were still held as though I was holding the bottles in my hands, but alas
I had lost the sweet nectar. I didn’t
cry, because I realized the gift had been in my hands, and Mr. Fred had given
me a special gift that day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We went into the house, my Mom had me start eating my lunch,
while she cleaned up the porch and removed the glass. Evidently, Mom must have telephoned my Dad at
the Feed Mill and explained what happened.
When he came home that evening, he told me he had brought something for
me from Mr. Fred. My Dad was holding
two bottles of Delish Grape Soda. It
still touches my heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Let’s come forward to 2014.
Today, I was in Adams for the Annual Kentucky-Tennessee Threshermens’
Show helping my brother in his craft booth with Gourds. Moss’s Restaurant is located in the same
place. I asked Christy was kind of dessert she ended up making for this weekend
event. She was telling me about these
wonderful desserts, when she mentioned banana pudding. Christy’s mom, Brenda Moss, makes the best
banana pudding in the world, among many other great things. I told Christy I would stop by to get me two
bowls of banana pudding to go, since I would be heading out-of-town
tomorrow. About an hour later, Christy
showed up with a covered cup. She said
this is the last of the banana pudding, and I knew you would be gone tomorrow
and wouldn’t be here to get any. It
still touches my heart. I safely carried
this cup of pudding to my house, up my steps and into the house without
dropping it on my concrete porch. I
carefully selected a spoon and wandered over to my rocking chair, ripped off
the top and savored every bite. Thanks
Christy. I think what makes this even
more special to me is that Christy is the granddaughter of Mr. Fred. Her Mom, Brenda, is Mr. Fred’s youngest
daughter. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Thanks Mr. Fred for everything – for the first two bottles
of Delish Grape Soda, for safely carrying me to the car, for the second two
bottles, and for raising a daughter who carries your heart, and for a granddaughter
who embodies a caring soul. How blessed
are we all!<o:p></o:p></div>
J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-14394362467512609772014-02-04T10:04:00.003-06:002014-02-04T10:04:49.716-06:00Nels Oleson [Richard Bull] closes the MercantileJ. Mark Lowe<br />
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I've enjoyed watching the show, <i>Little House on the Prairie</i> for years. I learned this morning, <b>Richard Bull</b>, known to most of us as Nels Oleson, passed away. <a href="http://highlighthollywood.com/2014/02/renowned-character-actor-richard-bull-little-house-on-the-prairies-nels-oleson-has-died-at-the-age-of-89-highlight-hollywood-news/" target="_blank">Obituary</a> <a href="http://www.tvmediainsights.com/highlights/39780/remembering-richard-bull/" target="_blank">Remembering</a><br />
It is amazing how a show that originally aired in my youth still speaks to so many people today. The story of homesteaders and others surviving as they sought a better life for their family speaks especially to those of us who research families. It makes me laugh to watch the interaction with his wife, Harriett, on the show and remember my years of growing up.<br />
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<a href="http://jaydeanhcr.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/dyn003_original_350_271_pjpeg__e9831f8ad050e8a9f36bc8c1b25ccac6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://jaydeanhcr.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/dyn003_original_350_271_pjpeg__e9831f8ad050e8a9f36bc8c1b25ccac6.jpg" height="247" width="320" /></a></div>
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A quick glances showed Richard Bull, born 26 June 1924 in Zion, Lake County, Illinois to Ralph W. and Pearl, both also from Illinois [Enumeration of Ralph W. Bull, Dwelling 134, Household 150, 1930 US Census, Zion, Lake, Illinois; NARA T626,Roll: 528; ED 9, Page: 12A; Stamped 89, FHL microfilm: 2340263.] His father, Ralph W. was a compositor in an Office Supply Business. Although I'm drawn to learn more about his family, I know that I have other stories to tell. If you have access, check out Find-a-Grave and other basic records and news reports.<br />
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His father and grandparents were buried in Mt. Olivet Cemetery. His father's gravestone shares Ralph W. Bull, 1903-1944. The simple design of this stone reminds me of a stone Nels Oleson might place on a family member's grave. Our ability to collect so many details about our family should lead us to learn more. Thanks to Richard Bull for keeping the story alive of the folks of Walnut Grove, etc found in the writings of Laura Ingalls Wilder. <br />
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What story can you build today?<br />
<br />J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-44813024501697874892013-10-12T17:46:00.001-05:002013-10-12T17:47:50.114-05:00Thinking About Disasters That Impact Families - Titanic<br />
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vAy4Pv378+ePevv72dkWhImJiZ27txpZGTk5eWlpaUFL7Nv3LhhYmJSX18PNBh3d3eKvY7m+sXFxc+ePbtx40ZeXl4hIaG6ujqKMVVVVcLCwhAEmZiYwK9/fHy8sLCwoaGB4u/d3d3W1tYgInD//n16hz969Ag4sfj5+WG+oP9Y4HC4vr6+gYGB37W5/XbAuXyxWGxUVBQ/P7+MjIyGhgb1ewBw/fp1NjY2CIIEBQVhtOCysjIBAQElJaXS0lIKj8SbN2/MzMwgCDI2Nqa5ZQAcOXIEODPpyRIikXjr1i0EAsHExBQYGEhhKJPQ29t74cIFNTU1WVlZesGA7u5ufn7+JUuWHDt2DITxGQeBQDh+/DgSiUSj0REREfSGPXnyRFVVFYIgdnZ2mmp1f39/cHAwOzs7+V199+6dpKSkpqYmtZ8QoKOjQ1tb++LFiz+1ZhiUlJSA7UNXV5dxM51xZGRkIJFIaWnpP/74Q0hIiFr7JuH58+ecnJxMTEyrVq2iGVcG2L9/f1BQUGBg4Pr162nmAT179kxFRQWCIG9v73k3RCKRWFxcrKOjQ/4UsFjsnj17pKSkVFRUYB4xAAaDaWtro1jwzZs3IQhavXo1veRbEMgn/TozM0Mzio/D4YKCgoDiRU9ETU5ONjc3/4rH4vDhwxAExcXF0ROo9fX1mZmZJAna09Pz5s0b6mGDg4MmJiZsbGwKCgrZ2dmMnPratWvAxbowX+68uHDhgpOT06dPn/bs2ePl5fX582eYwdHR0Rs3bmxtbQVfLj0NhoTe3l5LS8vQ0NAXL17o6upCEGRoaEidG3zs2DEJCQkJCYlly5bNu2A8Hk+tJtbV1YGP1MTEBEZSnj59WlRUVEVFhZub+9atW/Oe6z8NBAJhenr6d6Ur/xOYJ4aanZ0tLi6+ZMmSsLAwemMeP34M3vg1a9bAJJ3v3btXWFj4xo0bFH9/8+aNiYkJBEFIJLKsrAxmMYODgyAm7+7uTi+FFXz5EASdPn0aRotJTEwEKTYHDx6kOaCwsJCTkxOBQDDi1aHAxMREQECArq6ug4PD4cOHYUZmZWWBZdAUkG1tbSCfkKT4E4nEu3fvQhCkpaVFL0Q6OztbXFz8GyXfpUuXQD7F+vXr4WPPC8D9+/eVlJQuX77s4OBgb28vICBAigJSAIPBpKSk2NnZOTk5bd68GebhZmZmKigo2NnZLVu2jFrfb2lpMTU1hSBIRESEnruVAv39/cXFxb29vaS/jI+Pe3p6IhAIdnZ2eguGx/Xr1yEIUlRUhDeJ5sXY2Ji2tjYEQTw8PL8YJYUB0GV1dXUpXEfkmJqaIpWC0ENLSwsSiVyxYkV0dDQ9BZ0C27ZtQyAQHBwcN2/e/LlFM4COjg4dHZ09e/Z8/PjR2NjYzMyMwnNGDiwWa2dnl5qaOjQ0BIIg86qYBw8eBJ7qp0+fpqenKysrBwQEUA/z8vJiZmbm4uLav3//wi4E+KVAbgGMvElNTeXi4hIQEODk5KyoqFjYuRYBAziBisFgTp48aWhoyMzM/Mcff9AblpWVBXaWbdu20dPX7t69KykpeejQIQrd6v3790CasrKywvj6yM/FzMwsJCR09+5d6l9HR0fXrVsHYiF//vknzDzBwcHg/aMnLzdu3AgGxMXFzbsqCgwNDaFQKFZWVmCOw4z88uULcNQAvy5pPxodHS0qKlq6dCkaja6trSUXHo8ePWJiYmJhYcnMzPzZhS0AY2Nj69evB7f0t9RdkOPNmzcoFCosLAyHw5mYmCAQCBsbm3fv3tEcPDk5GRQUxMnJKS0tDa9cnzp1SlRUNCYmxs/Pj1wXIRKJ379/9/LyApdz7ty5Ba+8q6tLWFiYnZ1dXl4exl8Cg9zcXBABWb58+a8keTU1NYFYu7S0NLw++is4fvw4UKpohkUZx71794DkWLVqFSO1jFNTU1ZWVuDqyFPGfguwWGxoaKiDg8P4+HhxcXFkZKSNjQ2Mj62jo0NVVfX+/ftTU1POzs5AH4IJn7948UJCQgLcsT179gQHB0tLS1+9epVi2Pj4uJGRESsrq4iIyMKe4OTk5KZNm4BnDiaASiQS09PTBQQEODg4uLi4ftbxtghGACdQJycn165dy8bGxsbGRk916unpcXR0hCBIRkZm7969NN1Ko6OjxsbGXl5eFL9OTEyQBJubmxsjLqkPHz6AGEBAQAB1JltLS4u6ujoEQSoqKvDGR1hYGEmhoznAy8sLVAIsIMehra0N7HF2dnbzXtThw4eZmZnFxcW1tLRISUYZGRnCwsLBwcHU+nJdXZ28vDwIaVdXV//s2n4Wnz9/Bq4qXl7ex48f/8aZR0ZG3N3dUShUY2PjzMwMeHCxsbH0xn///t3AwABY5zB7K4FA2Lx5MycnZ2Bg4IYNG8g9GXg8/tChQ+C5W1lZMVKLRQ8FBQU8PDzy8vIrV64kF4cEAoGkU8I7k5ubm/X09MBiAgIC6urqFpZnkZWVxcnJCXx9MP6hX8S9e/fAKy0qKlpYWLiwSXA43M6dO0G4F+ZBk+Phw4cguOjh4fHbw2ZFRUVoNBok3JaXl2dnZ8fGxsJc3a1bt3R0dFpaWvB4PMgolpWVpScCgQ/D0tKyv78fg8GYmZkpKipKSUlRp789f/5cQkLC1tZWW1ubpld/bm5uYmIC5vK/fftmaWnJysoqISFB8yMFrxaBQAgLC7O2tlZSUjI3N6cXEVsE4wBkHeSOmXkEqr+/PwRBbGxsNNX56enpqKgoUkbS3r17qTcRDAYTHx+/dOlS6mhlYWEhyJ9kYmJixDwlEont7e1gf1dQUKD2lf35559gJWvWrIHhhcHj8b6+vkBR2LNnD/WA8fFxExMTBwcHDQ2Nnw3dEwgEEKhgZmYODAycd/yTJ0/k5OTs7e2RSOT169dJf8zJyaH5CfX09Nja2oLL1NPTq6qq+qnl/Sxqa2sFBQWZmZk1NDTo2Y4LAA6Hi4+P5+LiunPnDpFIfPPmjZqamrCwsKurK71DampqQGqll5cXTOCqublZR0cH2KCZmZnk73pdXZ2ysjK4db8SY8bhcKQSBYoA6tzcXEVFxfT0dF5eHkxGOsDBgwdJVUCSkpLHjh1bAF3GmjVrWFhYmJiYFhCbYBydnZ3AUoQgSExM7OzZs9++ffvZSWZmZpYuXcrBwcHPz89gADU9PZ2Tk5OLi4umAAbZjjC1ZzB49eqViopKWFgYcJBmZ2crKSmpq6vfvn2b3iFbtmxZtWoViHoAHzg3Nzc9hTs/P19GRgbMdvfuXSkpKWlpaV1dXerav7Nnz6LRaFBJQXOq06dPZ2ZmwgjUjx8/gqpobW1tmvnqeDwei8Xm5OSA+mZOTs7Lly//xybK/i/C6OjozZs3ye/5PAI1ICAAPACa4ZmbN2+qqKjY2dmBGCrNj6SoqIiXl/fy5csUf5+YmABaHngPSJQ08BgeHl69ejU4iqKMAYPB7NixA/y0Y8cOmHBOY2MjCoXi5ubm4OCgyXXy+PFjERERCII8PT0ZWRU5sFgsMNmZmJji4+PnHf/t2zcQ0mNmZk5ISGBEDT958iQzMzMHBwcLC4uOjg5N7/fvQn5+PicnJysra1hY2Lwlg4zjypUrPDw8pAB2XV2dq6urhoaGpaUlzfFYLDY1NVVJSUlRUXH79u30ph0ZGQkMDAQ2kJaWFoW+n5mZqaqqKiUltWTJEuo8ScYxOzvr5OQESIuoE8V7enpu376tqKg4r8zo6elxcXEh6aOsrKy7du36WQUOaA+Mi6gF4+HDh2A7BvDy8oLJH6SJnp4eYObq6+tTuOLpITo6mouLS0JCguZ3WlFRoaysDJPUSg+dnZ16enqenp4kK+3s2bPgNp46dYrmIVgs1s3N7cCBA0AO3b9/H9wHmmWjPT095ubmgYGBYPD+/fshCPL399+xYwd1gDMuLs7R0dHExOT06dPUU718+VJKSurQoUMwl1NUVMTJycnNzb1+/Xqa+9709PT58+clJCTAmrdt2/Ybv+X/ZoyNje3YsYP8DZxHoPr5+QE/D3VIsrm5eenSpbt27Xr8+DHI8qWObA0ODlpYWNjb21PTONTU1IiKioIHvGvXLkaSLYlE4tDQkLe3NzgqISGBXKMfGBjw8PAA9nReXh69GWZnZ7dt2wb2XBQKRTOQQApIMCIRKTA4OAj2HSQSCV9SBoDH493d3fn5+bm5uRMTExkRqENDQ5s3bxYWFubk5OTg4NDU1Ny7dy+DRE4/hcnJSRBAhSAIJvn2Z1FSUiInJ7dx40ZSilNNTc26deusrKysrKzorcTb29vW1tbR0ZEel01lZSWJnUdHR4ciej0zMxMeHh4WFubr62tsbEyeYfSz6O/vl5GRkZSU9Pb2Likp+f79+6dPn+rr61+9elVdXX3//n0VFRUUCsWIaKyvrzcyMoLIYGZmBl/VSo6Ojg45OTkIguTl5X97iJEaOTk5IIdORESEmZnZ3Nw8NzeX8ZTLS5cuAc3bycmJkQ29v78fJFgICgo2NDRMTU2Nj4+Pj49PTExMTU09ffrUyspKUFAQPi+XGtPT0ytXrjQwMCCPp6SkpLCwsCxZsuTkyZM0j6qvr9fS0iI5VGtqasDzWr9+PcXIubm57du3a2lpkRSOiIgIeXl5U1NTkguKhKmpKXt7e/D579+//+XLl0VFRadOncrNzc3Lyzt58iQajebg4KCX0k8kEnE43KFDh0BBTlJSUldXV0lJSXl5eWVlZVVV1aNHj86cOePv7w8C9oaGhsnJyfRIdRaxAGRlZZFre3ACdXh4GOi/QkJC1PwDK1euVFNT6+3tBcodBEEU4Qc8Hp+cnCwoKEiT+PH27dtAK+fj42OcEnNoaGj16tXg5fD39yf363Z2dioqKnJzc4eHh9MLj4EoGlCTBQUF6cldkCjExcVFj3UBBmVlZVJSUoBPjsFkEx8fHz4+viVLlqxZs2bePEmA0dHRLVu2IBAIMTExIL9dXV1/+5ba399vaWkJXFswOspPYWRkxMLCwtramtz3deXKFWtrayMjI3oW6tevX5cuXerp6SknJ5eUlFRUVHTr1q28vLw7d+7cuXPnxIkToaGhQLRoaGhs376d2gD99OmTg4PDjRs34uLikpKSfoWL+OHDh6BEgZubW0tLy8DAANCVCAsLi4uL8/LyQhDk4ODAoKRpbm7eunUrCoUiyVQUCsVgdPzSpUtgJaampj9F1L4w4PH4/Px8MzMzFhYWbm5uXl5ePj4+6rx9eti0aRPwxDDI2FdSUgLebSYmpqVLl1pbW1v+DRsbGxBbNTIy+tlYeEZGBkUq2czMTGhoKARBS5YsoWfvnjhxQkNDg+Tcq6yspCdQa2tr5eXlSS693t5ePT09SUlJWVnZyspKisHV1dX6+vr79u3T1NQE/MzGxsYSEhIaGhqgMgeCIGNjY5gEruHhYeDi4uXltbCwcHNzs7W1tbS0lJaWRiKRwsLCIF6zcePGvLw8mrwc/0sxPT3d3d39T5CK/xQuX77MqED9/v07yADS0NCgiICeP39eUFAQyBtQ9i4kJEQhOCsqKlAo1OHDh6mvmZQewsHBoa+vz7jvaGBgICwsDPhj/f39yePqDx48EBAQOHLkyOjoaFNT08uXLxsaGurq6u7fv//s2bPS0tJz586tWLECGNOqqqr0DJ2enh5Q8i8mJgaTQ08P6enppqam+/bts7e3Z9DsJhE4GBsbM3gIkUgcHR3duXMnicIUgiBzc/PfG1Lt7OwEt9rGxua30A2Oj48HBQUpKytTkAwcPHhQVFR0+/btK1eupHlgfn6+pKRkcHCwkpKSi4uLh4eHo6MjCDzz8/NzcnKKiYmpq6vn5+c3NTXRDA49f/7czc2tqKjIw8MjKSnpVzJcgJro4ODg6Oh46dKls2fPZmZmnj9/PisrKy0tTVNTEzhvGZ8QxAJdXV2B8YdGoy0tLRkxvOLi4hAIBAKBYJAk4begra0tPj4eMI6xs7NLSEgwSPcBeO+EhIQYHH/w4EHgSfL29j5z5it60YYAACAASURBVMyZM2dOnTp16tSps2fPZmRkAF0/LS2NQR0U4MyZM1xcXBQR9LGxsbVr1wLnFr0s37i4OHt7e5Jj49WrV+Cj8/T0JKf1mJ6eXr58ubu7O0m/KSwsBKJRW1ubmuni6NGj/Pz8y5YtW7FixdOnT8vKyoBx+fLly/Ly8t27d8vKypIYkmni/fv3ICvN0tLy8ePHd+7cqaioKC0tvX79enR0NDc3NwKB0NXV/b9HZz87OzswMPBTT/+fwKVLlxgVqAMDA0BDNDMzI3eR1dfXKygohIWFEQgEPB6/fft2CIJkZGRqa2tJY7q6uoyNjW1tbWmmuf748cPPz4+dnZ2ZmXn16tXwRDPk6OrqsrCwAI6jdevWkSxU4MhlYWGxtLT08fHR1NREo9GgL4ekpKS4uLiEhISgoCAKhVqzZs2NGzdgqseamprQaDRQIxbQ8SowMNDa2trNzY3xLdXd3R18nAEBAT/1fkxPT9+5c4dEvw6e1G9MHcrOzgbThoSE/JYJU1NTRUVFqfesI0eO8PPzm5ubU7OyEYlELBYbHR29YcMGYH2CplQfP35samp69uyZv78/aAxga2sLc+onT574+fnl5+ej0eiMjIxfEahubm6AJZFmiUJ6erqwsPDCAnvLli3j4OAAHpR5C1Tm5ubs7e2BK2XBmbcLAxaLvXHjBjc3NxB4RkZG84r/lpYWaWlp4J2mR/RIDjweHx8f7+PjIy0tTfPqrl27xsvLy0hUhYT79+8rKipSRz2np6dBuYGQkBBNLt/JyUlnZ+fdu3eTPs+mpiZgbBgZGZGbffv27ZOXlycvsT106FBKSoqmpmZwcDC1XCTlkdB83CMjIwYGBseOHYN5XW/dumVvb79y5UpqqoC5ubkjR46AZwTIK+hNsogF4ycEak9PD4hjGxsbk1Lp8Hi8i4uLkpISSPPr7+8HQU0pKSmSQ2Nubi4qKkpZWZke+UB7e3tgYCDog7FlyxbGpcj79+9JRO3p6ekkW2RoaAj4PQQFBc+ePdvY2AiY+hsbGwGPPHAcJScnzysj79y5A7xJERERP5sI19/fr62tzc3NjUQi4SkSSejq6gLVIAgEYu/evQvY6JuamkAyNsDatWt/S+dLLBb7xx9/gDmTkpJ+fcLz58+jUCia6dxHjx718/MLDw+neaKJiQkjIyMlJSV5eXlqYTw6OhoYGAgqoUFJK82zFxcXI5FIKSkpVlZWmPydtra2bdu27d69OzU19ezZs+np6ZcuXSKPT3/9+lVBQQE4MGg6ZrOzs9Fo9MI6EwwPD5MS6/T19eF3wKqqKtA+QV5e/ldCwgvGrVu3gAMDgUBcuHAB/tW9f/8+4GG2sbFhxE3X09Pj7e0tIyMjKytL82Y+fvxYX1+fQXYIIpH47t07XV3drVu3grNjsVgcDjc9PT0xMdHZ2RkUFMTHx2dra0sz8t3Q0KCjo0OeI9LV1QUoV1EoFEkG9/X1ycrKkiuFeDzez8/v7Nmztra21BWoeDzeycnJ0tJSSUmJZjVzZ2envr4+uaFCARwOl5aWtmfPnpMnT9LkkBkbG/Pz8xMQEEChUDt37vyPZez734ufcPkWFxcDW9DU1JSUlXfs2DExMTFScLG3t9fb21tAQEBLS4u0v9y5c0dUVBSGJOjr16+urq6Apjk+Pp5xuXXr1i1RUVHwKpP7bJuamrS1tXV1dfX09KjzjOrr69FoNBMTk6qq6ryl05s3bwaRngVUoL5580ZSUpKZmVlBQYFBH2l+fr6EhAQTExM7O/sCzBqAoaGhwMBAUIMhIiJSXFy8sHnIMTIyoqKigkAgJCUlf70C9e3bt8rKyt7e3t3d3f39/d++fevr6/v27Vtvb29PT09ERIS0tLSmpibNcufu7m4kEglBkKamJs2OQ3V1dWCz5ubmpsenQ3qZIar8cHK0trZ6e3tLS0svWbKEh4eHi4tLT0+PPCWkoKBAWVkZhCpovreDg4O5ubkLDu18/vx56dKlEASxsLDAk5NcuHABpAjp6ekxHin4vUhMTAQGkKenJ3yqS1JSEjMzMxMTE3w3FRIAhRYTE5OLiwvNh97T03Pnzh0GnVujo6NA6QwMDDx+/HhycnJcXNzu3bvd3Nzs7OwsLS2FhYX5+PicnZ1plhucPHlSVVWVXHj39vYC1jZSpgUWi928ebOenh55AvO7d+9AZ1M1NTXqusHm5mYHBwdNTU05OTmaytPc3Fx1dTUMy+bc3JyzszMvL6+6ujp5h1RylJWVCQoKsrGxycnJ/dNVdv+FKCgoIJcpcAL14cOHYA/y8PAAX2xNTY2CgkJCQgIp4aKzszM0NNTT03PLli1Auevp6QEdEGHeg6mpKRIVEeMVgRgMJiIiQktLy9fXF4lEklNnFRcX29raxsbGrlixguax6enpPDw8/Pz8Xl5eMG3gmpqagAdVWFi4s7OTwYWRcOjQIU5OTlFRUXt7ewYPiYyMBCWYUlJSv2JnfPv2DdRgMDMzM9hpDh6dnZ2SkpLS0tKGhoa/GEAdGBgAbm0ZGRkdHR2QfwE6J5uZmdnY2IiIiAQHByORSJorv337toCAADc3t4eHB00DdHZ2NjIykhTTosmPWFtbC1pRAt8GvaUSCAQMBvP+/XtA9svGxubq6kqu1x86dCgoKEhbW5te39Zfx8WLF8E6YWoiiUQi6BIIVNL/Kcujq6sLZPBZWFjAfC8EAsHFxQWBQPDz8zOYgbhjxw5OTk5tbe1t27b9OuHlvn37eHl5XVxc1q9f7+/vv3z58hUrVixfvtzb2zshISElJUVDQwOBQDg6OlL7ricmJtzd3W1tbckjoJOTkxEREeANATpcdna2jIwMhXc6JyeHj49PXl7e0tKS+iO6ceOGr6/v2rVr/f39F0Yz8vnzZ5CLp6enR+8ugcQFCIJ4eHiSkpL+Dclr/1UoLi4mzwiZx0Ll4uJCIBCAf3JmZmblypWamprkfJ6NjY06Ojo8PDzr1q0DKmp0dLS8vDx8JG9qagqk/EEQRO0JoYcvX76oqamBo3x8fEivIIFASEpK4uLiUlFR2b17N81jOzo69PX12dnZEQgEjLw5evQo0Lh1dHQYj+ySALqmQBAEw9RIjtbWVh0dHVlZWV5eXprcTz+F8+fPA344ejfhp5CXlyckJCQnJ+fi4vIrCwMplBoaGtu2bUtJSdm0aVNYWNjWrVvj4uIiIiJOnjx5/fp1DQ0NT09PLS0tmv6DhISEVatWWVtbw3ieGxoaQOM/UVFRmob+wMAAqeBq06ZN8/auWrZsmYyMDB8fH3mgFI/He3h4CAgICAgIHD9+nME7gMPhgMEKRPW81mRhYSHYqWGiBrOzs4BDkYOD47c4JKgxODjIiE65d+9eCIIsLS1hBn/8+FFFRYWZmVlCQoJBlmmQ+aynp3f9+vVfpCAoLCyUlJSkVw9DJBI/fPgAokIWFhbUZMWfP3/W1tam+KJnZ2djY2PB63Tu3Lm2tjZFRcWNGzeSP1wCgZCQkADGxMTEUEuyuLg4Dg4OYWHhCxcuMHiNGAyGXK5fv34d+PnWrFkDc9Tjx485ODiMjIycnJx+L9/ZIhoaGsjbaNIVqAQC4erVq8CLuHbtWiKRePXqVREREYrk2FevXikoKCCRyNWrV4+Ojr5580ZCQiItLQ1+EXg8HlCNQBAUGxvLoNKUk5MDBAYrKys5k+34+Lijo6O2tjYSiaRX3UEgEI4ePQrOeODAAXqnABnLEASFhob+rBQZGRmxt7eXlZXl5+enLjijidTUVHBFbGxsMNWHIyMjT548mXc9VVVVoBU2PcZ/xkEgEEAAFYFA0EwUosarV6/q6+upTaVTp06JiIjAe7O9vb3NzMzMzMyoo5J4PN7BweH06dP6+vowqTdYLHbfvn3g2Tk6OtJ0Qpw/fx4UXElLS8Nv66Ojo76+vgcOHFBXVyd3hHR1dQHBICYmxmBq+vj4eFpaGmi9UlZWRtHqgCYePHgAQZCysjKpdxs16uvrgQ1taGj4D5GyXrhwYe3atfPmNxw/fhyCICsrKxjGory8PNB3T1NTkxHJ8f379+DgYDY2NlZWVgarcicmJjIzM6ndns+fP0ehUJs2bYIx4h89egRcccbGxtQWanFxsYyMDHVRAOgwD7Tn9evXa2pqUtigpMp4BAJB/eqOj48DlYiFhQW+qzkJU1NTu3btIvlXsFgsSE5mZ2eHUReIROLIyMiqVau4uLg4OTnDwsIWjdTfiLdv35JvJnQFKil9F4KgLVu2dHd3KygokJi3SKirqwMpPJs3b/78+bOpqSk9nxsFqqqqALGDo6MjIx7F0dFRUFcAQZCdnR35Id3d3TY2NocOHTIzM4P5qtva2kCqva2tLc0WHwQCITo6Gpzi9OnT8375ExMTVVVVJEO2qqrKxsbG399fQUEBphCbhIaGBpBODEHQsmXLYG7aq1evpKWl4Xn2iUTiu3fvxMTEWFlZ6VUEMQ4CgQBcecLCwvCRPIDu7m4UCnXixAmKbauwsFBBQSExMXF4eLi6upqmXYjBYJycnBQUFKSkpKg3xKamJhMTkx07dhgZGcG3inz9+rWEhISsrCwwa6gHtLW1GRsbM+IXaWhoWLp0KTCsyf3wpaWl6urqxsbGRkZGjHC7E4nEtLQ0bm5uQEOYlpYmKCg4r8/z9OnT0HzJZSSOhTVr1jC4kp8CiAiqqanN2170wIEDYIuAYRI+fPjwkiVLEAhEVFQUI97pp0+fKigosLGxqampMcihdvz4cUFBQYq8h/b2dm1t7XnfHOASgCDI19eXQhUjEAh79+5VVVWlLvLOz88HRykoKMjIyFDXrDc1NYENh4+PjzqA2tLSAjg9xMXFGcm/JRAI6enp7OzsR48eBX/B4XCAShOJRM5bg/7gwQOgbYuKitKLti5iAfgJgQp8GhwcHMePH09KSkKj0dR6fX5+vo6Ojra29uHDh0ERHoxaTY6JiYnw8HAIgtBoNCNp9CdOnABaJBqNpkjtu3fvnoSEhJ2dHb0AKgkZGRngG9DU1KT2UJE2XG5ubprdHCnw9OlTV1dXkgcmIyNDREREVlbWyspqXrceSXsF7mX4m3b9+nUBAQHSh0QPlZWVrKysBgYGDO5BMOjo6CCVIM8725cvXzw9PZFIJMWu0dDQgEQiXV1dp6enOzo6Dh06RHNfA5XvNjY2Ghoa1KpVeno6Pz+/o6MjDOMgABaLTUxMtLOz8/X1NTIyoumBzMjIAC4BIyMjGEvxwIEDS5Ys4ePj8/HxIf97SkqKmJiYnJxcYGAgI6npeXl5wsLCTk5OIDwRHh7OxMTk5eUF42z49u2bqqqqoKAgjL93ZmaGvLvDP0EjNzY2ZmhoyM3NDU96193dbWBgwMfHB09cDOhCWVlZYdLByHH06FEkEsnDw7Nhw4Z5nfNEIrG0tFRQUHDFihXkeRtzc3MeHh5cXFzzajB3794F/JrUkZqxsTEHBwdPT09qq47EHA5BkLu7O3V94O3bt4EMMzAwoH4b7969KyQkxMLC4uLiwkhTdCARtbS0SE7p0tJSNBrt6+vr4OAAk7ACMD4+TirRCQ8P/5/KYvu/h58QqPHx8RAEcXJyWlhY6Ojo0KTzPXHihKmpqY+PDwqFkpWV/al0mLy8PDY2NhYWlnnzkt68eQMqBKSlpakjRhEREUxMTBwcHPN2E/z8+bOhoSF4q3bt2kXxkTx9+hRkk+rr68/L/f3161cLCwtnZ2fwTwKBQAqgzktYODs7C+4t0C6Liorgx8fExDAzM5uZmcFkLkxMTPj5+XFycl64cAF+NkZw+vRpwIDh6OgIb1KMjIyAcHhAQAC5jVJRUbF06VIuLi5ANTw+Pv7lyxeaua9fvnzR0NBQUFBAo9EUsmF8fBw0nuTn5z9y5Mi8y66vr7ewsACeD5r1OR0dHYD7CYIgf39/mttKa2sr8KZCEETeO2F8fBwQxMvLyzMStnz48CHwD4PwBIFAcHJyAg668PBw8rgLCW/fvl2+fDkEQYcPH4YRkyBLC6wwKCjon2A5//TpE6B8EhISunbtGk3tAY/HgxBJTEwMzIb+9u1bcD85OTkZuW+9vb0eHh7i4uLKysqMjH/16pWysrKQkFB5eTnpj3Nzc6AASV1dHf7wubm5mJgYNBptbW29fft2igu5e/cuDw/PypUrqR9HTU0NcM4pKSlRx/4HBgY8PT3BM3Jzc6OgdJiamgKVr0xMTPO2EZydnc3KytLQ0JCRkSE38X19fXl5efft20fvTabAkydPREREBAQExMXFQVOKRfw6GBWoWCyW1FsUgiBvb2+a38zly5c5OTlBgGTlypU/VQFJIijR19eHyWioqqoChQQ0G2G2trYCYiN+fn5G3pL09HQQSOPn56cgQrpx4waIGUdERMC70To7O11dXbm4uEi8awMDA05OTvHx8fr6+qAhFD3U1NQEBQUBcaWurn737l34DXFiYsLCwgJ8mV5eXjRrHycmJlJSUiAIWrFiBSMaPTx6e3vBDUcgEDExMYR/BZFIBP8zMDAA1Cl2dnZeXl6SHTA7O5udnQ3YYTQ1NeGdUXNzc3v37gV3w93dnULipqamsrKysrCwbNmyJSUlZV6jcHZ2NjExkYeHJzw83MvL68WLF9TaQHt7O3ixIQiKjY0l6fvT09OdnZ0XLlwA7YyAo4L0vn379i06OpqVlRWCIGNj448fP37//r29vb21tbWhoeHWrVs3b97MycnJzc3NyclJT09fvXo1qNHU0NAAtQqfP3+WlZUl2TQaGhqxsbFXr1798OHDhw8f9u/fv379ehQKBXoG0Hv9vn//npCQsHTpUkCOA9yJMTEx1BQ8vwICgZCcnExaKg8Pz7Jly65evdre3j4wMDA0NNTT05OTk7N8+XI+Pr6QkBB6eh6BQHj58iXp7UUgEIcPH4bZInA4XElJibu7u5KSUlhYmKenZ3l5+fDwcFVVVWFhYXV1dVFR0cOHD5uamp48efLu3buKior4+HjQzVBFRQWUC09PT3/8+JGU8yghIVFVVUVPKZyamkpOTubk5OTj40OhUCgUihRYaW9vJ00uICCwc+dOCiW7sbEReHGoiRe+ffsWFxcH9hkWFhZJScnz58+T3u3R0dG0tDQODg4ODg42NratW7cWFhZev349KSnp/Pnz58+f37x5c3h4eGRk5MaNGyMjI01NTUFXLjk5ufz8fCKR2NLS4ufnB5ov8fHx8fHxxcfH9/X1wT/WmZmZ4OBg8A4jkcgtW7bMe8gi5kV9fT1DAhWDwZACTtReVgDyBpPi4uILaAHf2toKCBkCAgKojcKZmZkzZ84AtiY5OTlqSw6DwZDUQE5OziNHjsxLoNre3k4yUrdu3UoyUvF4fHp6OhCoOTk5OBwOS4a5uTkMBjM9PT00NHTjxg1QWuPp6YnBYPB4/NTU1NGjRxUUFIKDg7dv3/79+/eJiYnJycnx8fGxsbGxsbG+vr73798/e/YsJCQEaLWCgoKbNm1ipCy9rq4O2M2k+7xq1arU1NSnT5++f//++fPnGRkZFhYWgoKCoaGhDDbxgEF9fb2bmxszMzMPD4+9vb2amtqaNWu8ybBixQpvb++VK1eamJiQtnVXV1eQ433t2jUXFxdeXl4EAiEoKAhI+OgZW01NTQEBAby8vExMTCtXrqRI8wE93SAIYmVl1dDQkJWV3bNnz7z1nW/fvjU1NdXU1OTn55eXl09NTaV+JcbGxtLS0lAoFCcnp4KCgqenZ0hIiLW1NRqNlpKSsrOzS0tLO336tK+vL7ifzc3Ny5YtA0x7QH1UV1fX0tJSU1NTVVVVVlaWlJSUIANoeMfOzs7GxhYQEAA00bS0NGFh4YCAgIiICA0NjSVLlnBycoqLi6PRaFVVVXV1dSkpqbCwsMrKShhr4/Pnz66urjt37kxISECj0VpaWsrKyubm5gvgyIQBHo9ft26dnJzc6tWrjY2NhYSEmJiYREVFUSiUqqqqrq6uioqKpKTk0qVLT506BRP7z8vLk5OTY2dnBxfLwcEhISGxadMmeuP7+vpMTU15eXkNDQ0tLS1B9MTY2Bh0ElVUVFRUVFRWVkaj0XJycmg0Wl5eXlZWVklJSVJS0tfXF9y3lJQUJSUl4MIF57WysqLO3QXo7e21tLQUExMDcSsRERGSH66oqIiPj09MTExTU1NUVFRISIhCX29oaODj47OwsKAQS4ODg8uXL+fl5QULAF2tpKSkgCo8OjoaHR0tJCTExcWloKCgra0NGOUsLS0NDAxAap62trYmGRQVFVVUVJSUlHx8fECI99atWyoqKk5OTk5OTjo6Os7OzoaGhtTGBjXevHkTFxcXFRW1fv16b29vBjOuFwGD5uZmcmuQrkCdmprS1taGIIiZmXnr1q00x0xOToI4KARB0dHRC/PLv3jxwtjYGIFA6OvrHzx48MGDB48fPy4qKjpz5oyDg8OSJUvY2dmBrkp97NzcXGhoKFDfgAnLCBVZUlISNzc30B9jYmKGhoYwGMzBgwdBAjowx+Pj4+Pi4uLj4+Pj43fs2BEdHb1+/Xp7e3stLS3gCiPl/rS1tXl7ewMbi5eXNz09fc+ePRYWFgYGBhYWFra2tnZ2dnp6ejIyMkgkUkhISF5efv369Q0NDQzm2t2+fRvUnMTGxtrb2yspKYmIiCCRSCQSKSsri0Kh5OXlV6xYcf78+V+3TYlEYmZmpp+fX3Jy8pEjR44fP37x4sUnT56kpaUlJSWlpKSkpKTExsYmJiampKQcOHAgNjbWwcHB39+flIp5+/bt2NjYtWvXOjs7g6p5R0dHeuXkjY2NycnJly9fvn79OvWW19bWdvLkyQMHDqSmpiYnJ+/bty8rK2ved2xsbCwjI2Pr1q2pqamJiYkFBQX03JVfv369efOmm5ubjY1NeHh4YmLi1atXGxsbf/z4AQwOkgd7cHDw0aNHz58/f/PmzevXr6urq8vLywHtanl5eUVFxct/RWVlZXV19fv37588eUKiuampqbl9+/bY2BjgIH3//n1lZeWrV69KSkpu3brV1tb2+fPneaOhWCz2x48fGAwGg8EMDw//+PFjeHh4aGjo91KE43C4x48f19bWTk1NjYyMtLW1vX79+vbt28nJybt3705MTLx06VJNTc28pZN//fXXgwcPamtrX79+/fr169ra2pcvX8IU1M3OztbW1r57925oaKi9vb22trapqamysrK8vBxw21ZVVb1+/bq8vPzFixcVFRUVFRUtLS1DQ0Nfvnwh2ehlZWWFhYXFxcUvX74sKSkpLS0tKCigd2NxONzXr1/b29vBnfz8+TPposbGxmprazs6OoaGhlpaWhoaGiiipN++fdu9ezd1+u7k5GR+fn5BQUFRUVFpaembN29qa2sfPnwIAqUzMzMlJSVAG379+nVnZyfgOfn+/fvAwMD379+/f/8++K8AD3poaIj0Qk5OToJ/jo+Pj4yMTExMDA4OMtheHtgGs7OzY2NjjHcKWgQ9jI6Okt95ugK1srISJAEZGBjQY0L48eMHaJiloaHxKw0m29vbN2zYAPp1iImJgdosGRkZXV3dgICABw8ewMieqampu3fvhoSErFixIjQ0lBEqkK6urvz8/Pj4eHV1dT09vadPn7a0tOjq6gJChrCwMGdnZ0tLy3Xr1q3/G8HBwUFBQf7+/gkJCZGRkZ6enm5ubiAM1t3dvWvXrtWrV4MxUVFRkZGRu3fvDg4OTklJuXLlyuXLl48ePXr69OnLly9XV1cPDw//FGFve3t7TU3NzMwM4BwYGhrq7u6urKzMysq6fv16Y2Pjly9ffmOKAQaDIe3OpHWSu3xxOBwejyf5fufm5sgvB4/H4/F4UHkJphofH6f3+MBgxtfG4GDyaefNKcVisbOzs3Nzc4usbIv4WSy+M4ugAF2B+uzZMysrKzU1NZhMn97eXtCwcN7CU0bQ3NxcUFCQm5u7Z8+eS5cuvXz5cmHsIYxjZmYGWHWjo6PPnj2rrKwE3jmwycIfu6jcLWIRi1jEIsgxT4PxT58+wQSuZ2ZmMjMzt2/fDlP9uYhFLGIRi1jEfwPgBOoiFrGIRSxiEYtgEIsCdRGLWMQiFrGI34BFgbqIRSxiEYtYxM+BZkraokBdxCIWsYhF/DSwWCxoSUSRPUpRpDQzM9Pb2zs3N9fX19f8N0gU6I2NjY8ePXrx4kVNTc29e/fy8/PnLRj5+vXr+/fvP3369OnTpw8fPrS0tAAilK6urtLS0k+fPr1+/frdu3egWKukpISiqgKHw92/fz87O/vIkSPnz5+/cOFCRkZGcnLylStXBgYGyEcODAykpaWtWbPGy8tr5cqVfn5+6enpWVlZFy5c2Lt375UrV6jX9t8iULFY7KdPn+jVdy+ChNnZ2enp6dnZWdzfmJubAynNoEiGnO+C/Fdy4PF46j/C1xiAghzAoQFKbkDVDWkZMMficLipqanx8fGpqSmwKtKcv7GwYXR0FJQ21tXVvX//vqKiorS09MWLF/SKynA4XE9Pz6NHjw4dOpScnPznn3+Wl5f39/eTlkReBVRTU7N37959+/Zt3749JCQkKSkpISFhx79i586dO3fu3LNnz/r16y0sLBwdHcn5HAgEAqinKi8vB3WT3759q6urKysra21t7e3tHRsbm5iYAE+W3jXi8fjGxsbnz5+XlZWVlZW9efPm48ePxcXFJbTw/PnzioqK58+fk7e7mZ2dLSsrq6urm5iY6O3tbWho6Orq6urqev369cDAAOA5ActY8KOZnp4eHR0dGRn58ePH6Ojobym//nXMzc3Ru6j+/v7q6uqhoaHp6ene3t76+vp5awQaGxuzs7NLS0tLS0sfP35cVlYGGKZwOFxTU1NJScnLly+PHTu2d+/egoKCzMzMlJSUc+fOXbp0qbq6ur+///fWJVOju7t7z549hoaGenp6qqqqOjo6xsbGa9asSUxM6DP6UAAAIABJREFUDAoKWrNmDbmIff78uZWVlYGBgbq6uqysrLS0tIyMTEpKCvg1MjJSUlJSTExMUlJSREREWFg4MjIS5tSg9aesrKysrKyUlJS0tLSpqSn4EO7duyclJSUjIyMhISEpKYlEIiUlJV1cXCgqdDEYzLp16wQFBdnZ2QHrCC8vr5qaGjnbFIFAyM3NNTIy4uHhkZOTW7FihZubm7q6urCwMAcHBxcXFzMzM0128f8WgUogENra2qqrq/+drYtmZmaG/8b4+DgOh6P5vU1PT4ONBtSYd3R0dHR0tLe3f/z4sa2t7evXr93d3eCPnZ2d7e3tnZ2dPT09fX199fX1gMpndnb24cOH2dnZt27dys3NvXnz5tWrVy9dunT58uWLFy8eOXIkKyvr2rVr1dXV83LUnTp1ytDQ0NTUdN26dWFhYRs2bFi9evWlS5cIBMLU1FRcXNyqVatCQ0MDAgL8/f2DgoJCQkKeP39OPgOBQCguLg4JCUlNTQV1UNnZ2efOndu+fTsgh8PhcN3d3Y8ePQIqZHZ29pUrV/bs2bNu3brg4ODw8HDAuxYZGRkeHh4UFBQcHLxp0yaabbxmZ2crKyujoqIsLCzQaLStrW14eHhgYOCpU6cKCwsTEhKePXu24MdHgba2tmXLlgkKCrq4uKioqABaVHNz88rKSoqRc3NzFRUVa9euFRERkZGRkZOTk5eXR6PRMjIympqau3bt6ujoePjwYXp6OklPr66u1tLSYmNjA3wjIiIiysrKMmSQlpZGoVCamprS0tIkJhNySvrZ2dnU1FQRERFeXl7A3ATodeTk5NTV1XV0dHR1dRUVFc3MzIKCggoKCmjKocHBwWXLlvHz80tJSfHz84uKilIsA0BWVlZGRkZYWJiHh4eXl/fw4cOkGT59+qSlpSUgIIBCoWRkZERFRQGjEwqF0tXVNTAw0NPTQ6PRJiYmqampP9XFAYPBNDc3nzlzZtWqVVpaWubm5lZWVkZGRt7e3mfOnOnt7Z2dnf369euHDx/+/czvL168WLZsmY2NDU2a+3PnzoFmSmpqanp6enJycvPyaP75559aWlri4uLS0tKqqqp2dnaAjufbt29BQUFCQkICAgLs7Ox8fHy+vr4rV65UVlZGoVCASUpOTs7Z2TknJ4fC3votIBAIDx8+NDAwEBMTW758eUZGxoEDBwIDA1VUVNjY2CQkJPT09ExMTMivbnJyMjMzE/DhkIjVSCRxfX19Dx48AFTt7OzskpKSampqMHyleDy+uro6JiYGdFsKDAx8+PAh2NUnJyevXr0KqLzBdxQcHPzhwwfq+vW+vj7AjcrGxmZlZVVYWNjX1zc2NkYaeffuXdBg++7du/39/RMTE2NjY4ODg6WlpaSe3Lt27aJe3n+LQCUSiQQCobGxsa6u7p8gE6fAxMREcXHxxo0bPT09V61a5ePj4+Pjs2fPnoyMjCtXrpC3Lp+ent61a5eDg4OdnZ2SkhIajVZRUVFRUVFTU5OWlhYTExMXFxcTE0Oj0Wg0WlFRUVVVVVFRkZubG5Db7dixg0AgjI2NLV++nIODg4WFhYuLi4+PD41GGxkZGRoaGhoaGhgYGBgYqKio8PHxycvLnzx5EuZLe/HihZeXFwKBQCAQoCGljY0NILgnEAi7du3i4+PT0dHh5+eHIEhISGjdunXUveqePXtmZmbGysoKiKB5eXmlpKQ0NTUBS86PHz82bdqERCJ5eXnBnquurg50WA8Pj4iIiIiIiG3btsXExISHh+vp6S1ZsoSFhYW6offQ0FBUVJS4uLi5ufmWLVuSkpL27du3fPlySUlJwBzLzMzMYHsTRoDH44eHh4OCggBjs7S0tJub27t37yisjZGRkV27dnFxcTExMTk6Oj548GBwcHB8fHxwcPD27dvr1q2TkpJiZmZmYWFRU1MjNTXC4/HNzc0kGmETE5OPHz+Oj4+P/isAJ861a9dkZWVZWFjIuxASCITe3l5AuQ52ijVr1uTl5d25c6ewsPDu3buXL1+OiIgAnbSZmZmDg4Pb2tqor7G4uFhJSQnQjoqKil64cOHu3bu3/xVgzs2bNwOCMPJmeTgc7smTJ6TuAkgkMj09/cGDB4WFhYWFhXfu3Ll58+bWrVs1NDQkJSXXrl2blZU1MjIy781vbm6OioqSlpa2trY+derUvXv3Wltbf/z4UVZWdvLkSaBnREVFrVy50tbW9te7Lf0UPnz4APhTkUgkzSLDb9++Xbp0SVdXl5+fPzIy0s/Pz9HRkWYHSRLm5uZ+/PixevXq06dPDw8Pk/Z6PB7f0tICWiuCM3Z2dk5NTYHX4/v37y9fvtyyZQsgK9XT07t3797v3e6ePXsmLi6uo6NTWlpKzgAzMzNz9uxZZWVlHR0d0D+bAhEREQgEgouLy9rampota8eOHWxsbAICAtzc3AgE4tixY/DL6O7uVlNTi4yMpGC9npubc3d3R6FQNjY2BgYG9Oo5//rrLxUVFSMjo5s3b5LvxgAjIyPKyspIJJJmn9q6ujo5OTkBAQGavbf/iwQqkUjEYDD9/f3/RLsrcvT394eGhiooKPj4+KSkpBw+fPjIkSP+/v7S0tJgL0tISCANfv/+vZKSEgRBKBTq4MGDlZWVVVVVlZWVb9++jY2NNTMzQ6FQ4eHhgN+uqKiotra2qKgoMjJSUVERgqDk5GTwWvf29jo6OkIQxMXFZW5uXl1dTU5vNDc319raun//fvC+enp6wmw6vb29qqqqAgICUlJSvr6+FB/k1q1b4+Li3N3dBQUFaUYRAP78809mZmZmZmZ7e/uMjIzy8nLSvonH4799+5acnAwuLSQkBBAx0vzy+/v7V61aJSgoSN1QLyYmhoWF5dChQxTGVmNjo6+vLzs7OwKBoDYffxHNzc1AWiCRSOo9saOjAzDv8/Ly7t27lybH/fPnz4HglJKSIu9SMjc3Fx4eDuiR4Vu8EYnE4OBgmm3Sa2pqUCgU2G1p9opoa2uzt7cHAywsLGgKs5iYGKAJWVpawnh0MBhMeHi4iooKtT2RmprKxcXFy8sbEBBA0yvz4cOHsLAwbW3tJUuWxMbGwvuNbt++LS8vLy0tffjwYZoO9q6urk2bNgHb3c/PjxEJ/bswMjJC6tO8bNky6iZuJDx69EhaWtrZ2Xnp0qW6uropKSnzOr2jo6Npcqnu2rULnFFPT4/mxZaVlenp6UEQxM3NffHixd/VMXdqasrZ2ZmLi+vx48c0B2zdupWTk/PEiRPUP/n6+oJd7syZM9S/7ty509XVNT09XUZGhpmZ2dPTE/4h1tbWKisrUzfmGxkZcXZ2hiCIh4eH1Imd+lh9ff3Vq1fTc7wXFBSwsbEFBwfTO/v+/fsVFBSAv40C/10C9d8AHA4XGhoqIyNz//59ip9evnxpbm4OQZCbmxvpj3fu3JGRkfHz86Mmyv/jjz+A94y6dzGRSCwqKhIWFiZ1zZybm4uPj1dVVdXW1qbuA09CbGwsNzc3GxtbaGgovV1scHBQR0eHk5NTTEyMuqt5YmKiioqKhoaGqakpPS7+gYEBOzs7QUFBekKFSCTevn3b3t7ex8fH3d0dPrZ9/PhxKSkpCju4p6dHS0vLyMiI5haGw+HWrl3LxMT05MkTmJkXANB8V0RExNLSkkIDaGlpAf3dpKSkaHY4J6Gjo0NLS4ubm5u8PdnY2FhISIidnR0TExNNbxI5EhMTAwMDqanEKioqQDMJJBJJs0MckUisr6/X0dEBpNA0+y1GR0cjEAgmJqaIiAj4ZRw/ftzAwIDaz5meng52/NjYWHpi48uXL9ra2gYGBtra2vQYQ7FY7Llz5yQlJQ0NDeHbYmMwmKysLEVFxbi4OPg1/0ZgMJi4uDjQmUNcXDwiIgKmjd25c+ccHR3z8vJ0dHRWrlypr68Pz00/OTlpYmJy+PBh6hsIOlVDELR792564dKamhrQKkdISIimDFsASktLgYOK3kddVVUlLi5O3Rx3ZGREUVERgUCIiopSN+OampqysbG5cuVKV1cXUAf5+Phg+gETicSzZ886OjpS9yhrbW11cnJiZmZmYmKi7qlHJBLz8vJQKJSrqytMP4moqChmZuYtW7bQG/DixQt6e+yiQP3NyMvL4+PjS01NpflrTU0NBwcHqYsqBoPZtGmTl5cXtduhq6sL9L1iZ2enlmpEIrG4uFhbW5u0y0xMTERHRzs7O1tbW8O8Ch8/fgQxAF5eXpovHJFIbG1tBZ+igoIC9St7+vRpOTk5ZWVlCwsLmiL5+fPnPj4+vLy8N27cgEm+uHfv3urVq83NzVVVVeF3lurq6pCQEArhffLkSSYmpoSEBHqnyMzMFBYWhm8etwDExMRISkoaGBhQdN7u6+tzcXEBz+v27dvzzlNQUMDKynrq1CnSXzo7Oy0sLPz8/CQkJObtA9rQ0PD582fqv2dnZwM3rIeHB4xjPykpKTIy0sHBwcXFheKn0dFRIyMj8Ibk5ubCL6OsrCw9PZ1iex0ZGQkMDATdeOhZCUQi8cePHy4uLiEhIT4+PjSvd3JyMiUlhYODQ0REhOYnQL3ypUuXrl69et6RvwUzMzMZGRnKysqampomJib/r70vj6dqbf9e2IZdxgwhZcw8T2XIFDJHhkiZIoUimZKjDKGOVBKVFA5Op0hpTkpFT1SSUp0oMpd52jb28P5xf5717t9eey/7lPOc9/m9+/vH+XT2XtZew33f13Vf1/f6Xra2tvn5+SgDPjY2NjQ09PPnz3Z2dqqqqhwcHDk5OSjnf/78uZqaGtIjxOPxnp6eHBwcXFxc6CMtLy+Pm5t75cqVenp6VK2cfgxlZWVLly41MjKilwAeGxsLDw9HRr8aGhqUlJT8/Py0tLSQUfHGxsbVq1c/f/58fn7+4MGDgoKCgoKC/v7+KBvr3bt3+/r6IlsBXr58WUZGBoPBaGlpUY3/4eHhY8eOycnJ7d69G7TGooe9e/dCELRmzRp6fLfJyUl63irToC4mCASCubk5FoultyDi8XgXFxcfHx/wv0NDQ05OTjRbgjc2NoK0+fLlyz98+IA84OPHj8nJyfDYnZmZiYqKsre337RpU2xsLMpFRkREAPc2MTGR5sRobGyUlJQUEhJSUFBA7oHS09OXLFkiLCzs7u5Oxf6YnZ1NT0/n4+PT1tZesDftr7/+umvXrtDQ0IiICPSQ1Pz8PNI2gLvYv38/PQ+9tbU1MzNzcRuFzszMGBkZga5elLE4HA4HkkAQBIWFhaGcYWpqCkxFPB5/8uRJypjVlStXlJWVfX199fX1qbyHnp4eRnibJBIpISEBfrkoi3tlZaWxsXFoaKi+vj7VV69evQIMkVWrViGTrFSgGaXv6OgQFRVVV1ffsGEDevent2/f2traGhgY3Llzh2ofRiQSU1NTQeSZkvSEfjFnz55dsF/3YuHBgwfKysoFBQUJCQny8vJaWlrnz5+nl7DE4XA2NjZnzpwhEAinTp0C78jBwYEeRZxMJmdlZTk6OlIyqAHq6upkZGQ4ODgEBQVfvXqFcoVjY2ObNm3avn27iYlJSEjIz8uPFxUVYbFYQUFBml2ZyWQykUik2fQmKytr1apVJ06c2Lp1K9ILz8zMlJeXB0vZkydPVFRUTExM1q5dSy9uQSAQ7O3tkXOfRCLFxcVhMBh2dva4uDjK1enr1692dnYSEhInT55ckLMWGxvLwsLCzc3N4MCjBNOgLiYmJiZUVVVZWFjodRQgkUjPnz+HmTJ4PP7t27c0swV3794FHaqlpaXprWtTU1Pw4BgeHnZ1dVVSUlq3bh2655uVlQXm8759+2gu0/n5+dzc3Ly8vG5ubshvHRwcAOeFKoE6ODgYGBgoKCgYHx9Pz32DMT097e3tbWxs7OTk9GO8oaCgINDmqLu7m94xi1s2QyaTnz17JiMjc+jQIW9v797eXvjziooKWVlZLi4uPT09FF1rUNnS1NQEf0JZ4bN//35paemdO3fa2tpSznk8Ht/S0sIIc7Wvrw8kkOglUGE8fPhQTEwMmAGqr0pKSvj5+VetWuXk5PRj1Rc1NTWAY2lqaopiMIhE4m+//aagoMDBwZGdnU31pi5evKiuri4kJKStrY3yiqkwNzf3dzMkAEZHR01NTW1tbUkkUkBAgIiIiKio6IkTJ+iNt7a2NmVlZeBnv3//XkZGBiQ4S0pKaB5PIBDc3d0DAwOR5ufs2bPgFZubm6PzeEkk0rlz59TV1aWkpBQVFVtaWn7oXv8vjh07BrxGR0fHv/ScnZycUlNTt2/fTjNisW3bNltbW+BVT09P+/v7A3pzYmIizRHY2tpqYGCAjAlPT0+7u7uzsrKysbHl5eXBnz958kRHR0dOTg6ZhqOJ8vJy0MpTRERkwY0BFZgGdTExPz8P+H46OjooAw4ZqUAiLy8PuOeenp7IgDASbW1tgNwkIyOD5O9QYt++fYAbtX37dpox2127dsEZGqqvOjs7AV9JTEwM7vRJJpObm5s3bNggLy/PoHXs7Ow0NDTEYDDS0tI/0JeeTCbv2bMHFGYsSAhcRJw8eXLp0qXr16+nDKoPDQ3Z2dk5OTkpKSnl5uain2FmZoamaZyZmdm0adPGjRuNjY2PHTtG+VVxcTEjjejJZPKTJ0/09fWXL18uJSWFvnrGxsZiMBgIgpAh38DAQB4eHi8vL0rqHOOYnZ2FM3w+Pj4oxSEfP37U1NTcsGGDrKzs5cuXKb/68OGDhoZGbGxsUVERMuX2j2NmZmbnzp0SEhKgYMzV1ZWPj2/p0qVUL44SFRUVenp6gMYyOzsLs4oMDQ1pemCdnZ0qKirIHRKBQIiMjGQkCAHQ0tLCzs4OPGBKG/NjaGlpAVxINja20NBQBnuitLa2Kikp2dvbOzo6UpXYkclkPB6vp6eXlpYG+yKXL18G10xvGJ8+fdrU1BSZJ/rzzz9BtgKLxcJVdsXFxbKysvb29s3NzQze5uDgIPB4ABcBxU9CgmlQFxmBgYEgkfYzRICJiQl/f39ADEE67zRx/fp1NjY2CIKsrKz6+/vpHdbb2wtz7mnuUIeHh42NjdXU1CQlJSlNJkBjY6O8vPyOHTvc3NzgnHxJScnq1avV1NRolorSxMOHDwUEBNjY2IyNjekxktDvuqioyN3dffPmzatWrUpPT18sHiM69u7dy87OrqqqShlXvH37tqqqamJioq+v7w9nqr5+/aqmpubk5OTs7EwV4e/u7sbhcG/evMnOzkYvgaioqJCRkREXFzc3N0fZ1eFwOJCeZ2dnp/IAJiYmQMf1rVu30nPnJycnUS5jcnJy48aN/Pz8wsLCWVlZKFd75MgROzu79PR0Dw8PqhhMZmamurp6SkpKeno6ZSTg/wXMzc2Fhoby8/ODMTA9Pe3m5gYmFMr4DwkJ8fDwgClL9fX1K1euZGVlZWdnv379OvL4W7duqaqqItk9IyMj8M/Ro9pSYmBgAGZ9x8XF/YX7pAMQGYIgiIWFxcLCorGxccE/KSoq4uPjgyBIXV0dSdpqampSV1enJMz39PSsX78e/AolyQBGQEDAjh07kI7p1atXnZ2dzczMrK2tBwcHiURiZmamtLT0L7/8wsiehBIXL14Ee3EIgpYuXRoUFMSg98A0qIuMCxcuAPdKXFz8zJkzP5a3aG5uVlBQEBAQEBERQU4qJAgEQkpKChjlQUFBKOvdhQsXsFgsoJzQnP83b96UlZUNDw+n2Vg+Ozubj4/P29v70KFDZDIZh8OlpKQICQn5+PjQJJHTQ2ZmpouLy969e4ODg5G2cHR0ND8/H2nOKTExMeHl5cXLy8vKyrpkyZKYmBiU6OKiYGpqytLSEovFOjs7w1wtEon0yy+/KCgo7Nix4+TJk/TI1QuioaFBUFCQk5PTysoK6UnMzs5u3bpVR0cH5R5xOFxoaKiMjIycnFxoaCg9Cvfc3NyJEyeANISxsTEVR7qpqUlJSYmHh0dBQYGmSf7jjz+srKxQIo19fX2KioqCgoJSUlKgfJkmmpqaFBUV/fz8nJycfv31V8pb/vjxY2ho6IULF9zc3CIiIlB4s/95kEikU6dOcXJyhoSEgM33mzdvtLS0AK0UWV4JgMPh9PT0kpKS4NskEAhxcXErVqyQkpIKDw9H3mNGRoapqSmSEtjc3GxgYMDKyioiIrKgRB+ZTB4ZGXFwcADqIj4+Pj8va9Pe3m5lZQUsDT8/v6Wl5cWLF9HzESdPnuTh4WFhYbG3t0cuTVlZWZqamlSkgaysLAwGIyQkZGZmRrU96Orq0tXVTUtLQ/5QXFxcYGCgt7d3QkLC9+/fw8PDVVVVi4uL0TU0aGJ+fv748eOCgoKAJi0tLW1gYHDt2rUFi3qZBnWRMTg4CIriMRjMsmXLEhIS6NWWoODBgwe8vLxsbGyrVq2iTLnRAw6H8/X1BWYSZWf88uVLEJGGICg6OppmUDo1NRWDwWCx2I0bN1JNPwKB4OjoCHI/ly9fnpycBJTXY8eO/SW/YWpqCqggJSYm0rza0tJSDQ2NBUWOPn36pKOjIy0tDRQkjIyMfv/99x+YPAyitrZWQ0MD1OrAk/zbt29WVlY6Ojq6urrl5eU/fPKUlBQQYPD19f3+/TsQzAL//fTpU3JyMhaL3bNnD8p87unpsbCwYGVlxWKxNDc9w8PD3d3d+fn5QLPGzMwMWaR74cIF8K23tzf8IWwGPn36pKenZ2pqiuI33L9/H9jjLVu20DT/eDz+yZMnBgYGEATJycmFhIRQkUKvXLmio6Pj7u7Ozc1969Ytej/0j6CyslJYWNjZ2Rm+NcDNBooE9FItHz580NLSoop23rx5U1RUlIWFZdmyZVTcIhwO5+TkFBYWhnStSktL5eTkFBQU/Pz8GNl1DQ0NeXh4HD16NDc319vbe1FkGltbW42MjACTPDIykp2dfe/evfRcPSKR6ObmxsHBISIiUlhYiDwALAVULsW7d+8MDAysra1XrFhRVFRE+Ryqq6vV1NSQCdTx8fGtW7dycnJqaGgUFxdv27YNgqANGzYgaZUMYnZ29vjx4+Li4mJiYhYWFnx8fCtWrDh69Ci6U8I0qIuPBw8eAKUS4N0kJibSpOnSA4lEysvLA2mPhIQEmqw5KgwMDKirq7OysiooKCBnNYFA+Pr1a0FBgYKCAjCHmzdvphnBIJFIYCBCEJSZmUn1LfCOOTk5RUREnj17Fh4eDkHQ4cOHGb81gPfv3wcFBd24cePgwYP37t2bmpr6/v17R0fHq1evGhoaAMHH3NyckVhfRUUFKO0FEBYWzszM/Jv2NKdPnxYUFGRjY3Nzc4MXppcvX8rJybGwsKBQuxcEkUiExQFUVFQ8PDykpKTk5OTk5OTk5eWXL18O4k6lpaUoJ3n58qWQkBB4v2lpaX/88UdOTk5ubm5ubm5+fv7x48c3bty4Zs0aX19fa2vrqKgomo83IiICZO6dnZ1PnDiRk5Nz+PDhuLi47Ozs9PR0QDunWboKIzs7W1VVVUBAwMDAoL6+/unTp3V1dc+fP29sbHz06FFBQcHevXuxWCwbG5uiomJcXBzV/oNIJMbFxRkYGHh5ecnKytLb8/0jGBgY0NXVtbKyoqy7/fz5M4ifc3Bw0MvSlZaWrlmzhqrMaXBw0MnJCWxSMzIyKF2llpYWHR2ds2fPUp2HSCQeOHBAWFhYVVU1NTWVEVoQCBFbWVlZW1tv2rRpsYRXe3p6vLy8li1btmTJEg4ODk1NzdjYWJojqqury9HRUVRUVFxcHMkNnpmZMTQ0zM/PR/7hvn37REVFsVisvr4+JVc/JyfHwcEBSX5ua2sDCVRjY2NNTU0eHh6Q1AgKCvrhuBGZTH758qWDgwMg2YHkMTppg2lQ/xZcuXJFXV0dgiBtbW0/Pz9TU9MLFy4wuHkaGRnx9vYGL49mRQ0Sjx8/5uDg4Obm1tTUPHDgQFpaWkxMTHx8fHp6ekZGxv79+01MTDg5OUVFRe3s7M6ePUuPFdXX1wd8TzY2NuTm4Pz5897e3g4ODry8vJqammxsbBISEmZmZsjBjY4nT56YmZnFxsZyc3Pv2LHD19fX0dHRwsLC2NhYVFQUDFx6NGkkXrx44enpCY94dnb2+Pj4n5lC9BAZGamnp7ds2bLjx49TEihArkVcXPyHWZQTExNA14aLi+vAgQPJycnR0dExMTExMTGxsbGg6FBISOjt27f0zkAikYqKisATkJaWNjIykpGRAbq7UlJSsHvHxcXl7+9PL1Q4NDQESJKsrKzu7u7W1tampqbm5uYWFhampqZSUlLgJLW1tfQuY3p62s7OztzcXFFRUVpaeu3atXp6etra2itXrhQQEFi6dKmUlBQ3N/emTZsyMzNpVtYPDQ15eXlt3749Kipq3bp16AXK/0l8//7d19dXRkaGKhNx+/ZtwMZXUlKixwYICQnZvn07ckxmZGSYm5vb2tqqqalR6pZUVFRoaWkhy8RHR0fBygBB0KVLlxi57OHhYTMzMxD88PT0XEQK9NTU1LFjx4C35+fnp6GhsWXLFuQ93rp1a9u2bTw8PAYGBsi9wfPnz/X19WkmYltbW1evXq2ioqKlpQUT04hEYlBQUFBQEPL46upqYESBnkxRUREs6ktVMv5X0d3dHRwcDK8wysrKKDORaVD/LjQ0NOjp6bGxsQkICIDXnJqaygh35u3bt0DshpOTc8HKejKZTCQSk5KSIAji4eEJDAx0c3Nbu3atjo6OhoYGvAhCEGRlZVVbW4se86mqqgImTUBAAJm/SUpKUlZWNjMzU1ZWDgsLs7CwUFVVhSDI3d2d8fwlkUiEl349Pb2UlJSdO3fu2bMnNTW1vLz85MmTGzdu5OTkzM7OZvCEZDJ5YmIiOTkZrGtgr5CWlra4NCWQi/L19TUwMKAkUBw7dgzciKGhITq5GgWfPn0CFBWaKwUej1+5cqWKigqKQzY9PR0eHr569Wo5OTkgvv/s2bPsdlg8AAAgAElEQVTGxsaGhoaXL18+efLk6NGjYCMlJye3c+dOmszqFy9eeHt78/PzCwoKgiwpkUgkEokkEml+fv7FixdAgBclcvD+/Xs5Oblly5ZpaWndvXv38ePHjx49un///rlz51JTUxUVFd3d3YWEhFDkCDo7O7ds2VJcXHzo0CEPD48fjtctLmZmZkJDQ3l5eS9cuEAVhj1//jwYdevWraP5ZGZmZkxMTGgSgD98+KCjo7NkyRI2NjZK9s2hQ4fMzc2RJdRtbW16enosLCxCQkIobg3VT4B9JARBgYGBP1+KSoXbt2/r6uoCbWoIggoLC6meT1pamr6+vpCQUEhICDLVmpeX5+joSI/vExYWZm1tbW9vD5PqBwYG7OzsUlJSkAcXFxeDF7Fnzx5wDXFxcZycnOLi4tLS0j/ZJGNycjItLW358uWsrKzCwsK7du2iR5lkGtS/Ee/fvw8JCYHbLDC443z06JG8vLylpaWenh4jCVQ8Hm9ubs7NzW1qalpVVTU3Nwca1LS3tzc0NERERAAvUk9PD70MnEwmZ2VlgYjfhg0bqDI0BAIBpGkhCDpy5AiZTK6qqlJRUXF3d1++fHlERAQjtUBkMnlqasrPzw+cB6l3TyaT6+rq5OTkaKotoqO8vFxNTQ2cWUhI6MeqceihpqZGRUVFR0fHxsaGMileXFysrq4eGRlpY2ODzqJCQWFhIVjykFE+MplMIpFsbGzoieICgNIdHR0dW1tbemOso6MjISEB8C3l5OSKi4upTnj27FlbW1sZGRkLCwuatdE2Njbm5uYocrWXLl1asWLF2rVraWp1FRUVqaqqmpqauru701tDu7u7ra2tnZycAgICoqOjUfId/f397e3tw8PDXV1doAsTzU4vi4KioiJlZWWaNaPwOr527VqaNK43b94oKyvT42cVFBQAh9vQ0BA88+npaU9PT19fX+TBVVVVIMSqra2NskmCQSKRCgoKwNYKg8Ggk65/GO/fvweKmxAE6evrUzqyRCIxICBAV1dXSkqKppR8cHBwYGAgPd+3pqYGlMbB5eb19fUWFhZIejMej4+MjJSSklJQUIB98aGhoYCAAG1tbTY2NgUFBUY4XOhITEwE4SglJSV6WktMg/r3Ym5urrKyEu74Iy0tTU/+A8aFCxfExcVB0wZGdn59fX3i4uJYLNbc3BzZHoFIJAICMARBLi4uKCecn58PDg4GR+bk5FDxXzo6OkxNTbm5ubFYLMhszczMpKWlGRkZLVmyBIPB/PbbbwteKplM7unpkZWVZWdnFxYWplmYcefOHRMTk7+UdYYBOqWAWwgODl7EwO+pU6eAD+7p6UnpOtTU1KiqqkpISIiKijJSQkATW7ZsgSBITEwMcKepQCQS6+rq0OPJjY2N/Pz8LCwsCxYv7du3DwQAxcXFqeSR/fz8jIyMtLW1U1NTaW5lDhw4cOzYMRS1h+DgYDY2NnFxcZr0k5mZmdjY2LCwMDk5uYSEBJo2e2hoKD4+3t3dfc2aNeHh4fQMKg6H27dvn6qqqpmZmbGxsYGBgZGR0YULF1Bu/Ifx4cMHRUVFOzu7kpKSkydP5ubmPnv2DOT7P3/+fPToUTDe3NzcaE6u4uJiU1NTeuN5fn5+48aNIDIJHlpTU5Oenh7SK5qengYVqCwsLHv37mWEXjQ/Pw9aNQCD/Zd4+H8JoAoI5BQoI9U9PT0mJiZAugiZDh8cHDQwMEBRtsLhcIBRDGcui4uL7e3tkeKFnz9/VlNTExYW1tfXp1Qf+/DhA8xJtrOzY1whhCa+ffsG2lqsWrWKXjKCaVD/EwCNJsB7peRPIjE2Nubj46Otra2srLygQjrAw4cPQRUEPaX4L1++aGpqioqKCgsL08z/A3R3d5uYmIDoNHJnfP369U2bNm3bts3GxgYObXV1dTk5OWlrawO5fGSUGIk7d+54e3vv2rVLV1eX5vgeHBx88+bND3dIzs/PB63lUHJaP4A9e/ZAECQhIUHVD+vhw4cgAsHKykqTW7sgvn//rqOjA0HQ8uXLUepMUEAikXJzc8HocnR0ROdktbe36+vrg4MTEhLgTSqJRPLw8JCQkJCWlqYXTgR96OidGYfDAX67sLAwP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/><br />
<br />
J. Mark Lowe, CG, FUGA <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fd/RMS_Titanic_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fd/RMS_Titanic_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
After spending the morning with my brother and sister-in-law, I came home and turned on the television thinking I would watch some college football. However, being a genealogist, I noticed the program that first came on had folks in period costume. Okay, they attracted my attention and I realized it was James Cameron's presentation of the Titanic story. <br />
<br />
With recent flooding, wildfires, and massive snow blizzards, I began to realize how these disasters impact the lives of families. Remember in 1912, we did not have instant news service. Families often had to wait days for news. Here are the first newspaper stories reported in Nashville, Tennessee. <br />
<br />
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“At 10:25 tonight the steamship Titanic called “C Q D” and
reported having struck an iceberg. The steamer said that immediate assistance
was required.</div>
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Half an hour afterwards another message came reporting that
they were sinking by the head and that women were being put off in the lifeboats.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The weather is calm and clear, the Titanic’s wireless
operator reported and give the position as 41:46 north latitude and 5:14 west
longitude… [<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nashville Tennessean and the
Nashville American</i>, 15 April 1912, p 1.]</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Steamer Hits Iceberg: Montreal</div>
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The White Star liner Titanic, the largest vessel afloat,
left Southampton April 10 on her maiden voyage for New York. She is a vessel of
46,328 tons, is 882 feet six inches long and displaces 66,000 tons.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Titanic carried about 1,300 passengers of whom 250 in
the first cabin. Among those are F.D. Millet, the Artist and President of the Consolidated
American Academy at Rome; Major Archibald Butt, military aid of President Taft;
C.M. Hays, President of the Grand Trunk Railway; J. Bruce Ismay, Chairman, and
Managing Director of the White Star Line; Henry B. Harris, the American
theatrical manager; W.T. Stead, Mrs. Isador Straus; Mr. and Mrs. John Jacob
Astor; Mr. and Mrs. G.D. Widener; Benj. Guggenheim and Mr. and Mrs. Henry
Widener.</div>
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Captain K.J. Smith is in command of the Titanic.</div>
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… On leaving Southampton last Wednesday the steamer had a
rather exciting moment. While passing the White Star liner Oceanic and the
American liner New York which were berthed alongside one another the action of
the Titanic’s triple screws dragged the New York from her moorings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her stern swung into midstream and narrowly
escaped striking the Titanic.</div>
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The Titanic is a luxuriously fitted out vessel, and her
accommodations for cabin passengers are elegant…” [reported from Cape Race,
N.F. </div>
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[<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nashville Tennessean
and the Nashville American</i>, 15 April 1912, p 1.]</div>
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<br /></div>
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Prominent Men Who Sank With Titanic<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Captain E.J. Smith, who followed the
unwritten law of the sea and went down with his wounded ship, Titanic, began
his sea life as a boy in 1869, when he joined the Senator Weber, an American
clipper, purchased by A. Gibson & Co. of Liverpool. After serving as an
apprentice he went to the square-rigger Lizzie Fennell as fourth officer. In 1880
he was appointed fourth officer of the White Star steamship Celtic – the old
Celtic, which subsequently was sold to the Thingvalin company and renamed the
America. </div>
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Capt. Smith never met with an accident until last September,
when his newest command, the Olympic, sister ship of the Titanic, was in
collision with the British cruiser, Hawke, while going through the Solent. </div>
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Capt. Smith maintained that shipbuilding was such a perfect
art nowadays that absolute disaster, involving the passengers, was inconceivable.
Whatever happened, he contended, there would be time enough before the vessel
sank to save the lives of every person on board. </div>
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“I will go a bit farther,” he added. “I will saw that I
cannot imagine any condition that would cause the ship to founder, I cannot
conceive of any vital disaster happening to this vessel. Modern shipbuilding
has gone beyond that.”</div>
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[<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nashville Tennessean
and the Nashville American</i>, 21 Apr 1912, p 5.]</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps you are thinking about checking the Passenger Lists
for family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Read this article by
Kimberly Powell (About.com) who discusses the original list and final list of
passengers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://genealogy.about.com/b/2007/04/15/the-passengers-of-the-titanic.htm">http://genealogy.about.com/b/2007/04/15/the-passengers-of-the-titanic.htm</a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Neal McEwen discusses C.Q.D and history:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://telegraph-office.com/pages/arc2-2.html">http://telegraph-office.com/pages/arc2-2.html</a> </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here's a current article from Ottawa about the cemetery in Halifax where Titanic victim are buried. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.ottawacitizen.com/news/Gravesites+Titanic+victims+Halifax+cemetery+receive/9031103/story.html">http://www.ottawacitizen.com/news/Gravesites+Titanic+victims+Halifax+cemetery+receive/9031103/story.html</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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This is always more to every story, and I will share more
from the local perspective of this horrible tragedy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember to Keep Your Stories Alive. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mark </div>
J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-46387626865239135322013-05-17T13:39:00.000-05:002013-05-17T13:39:36.024-05:00Reunion of the Aged is Well Attended<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">One of the most
interesting article I’ve ever found was a report of the “Reunion of the Aged”
in Warren County, Kentucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The article
named all those attending 75 years and older, including address.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Enjoy the story.</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">J. Mark Lowe </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Reunion of Aged Is
Well Attended</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Park City Daily
News, </i>Bowling Green KY</div>
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Sunday, May<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1936</div>
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Pages 1 and 12</div>
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<br /></div>
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Moses R. Hancock, 92-year-old Civil War veteran residing on
Eighth street, was registered as the oldest man attending the second annual
Warren County Old Mens’ Reunion held Saturday in the Court House yard.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Jim Corbin Honored</b></div>
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James A. Corbin, 91 years old, the only other known Civil
War veteran residing in Warren county, was the second oldest man present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He resides at 629 E. Eighth street. Both were
members of the Union forces.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
George Vincent, 608 Hope street and E.W. Oliphant, Route 2,
City, also were registered as 91 years old but a few months younger than Mr.
Corbin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No persons were registered in
the 87, 89 and 90 year old age groups, and only one person each was listed in
the 83 and 88 year old groups.</div>
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The program, under the general supervision of Jesse Russell,
Cemetery road resident, opened at 10 o’clock with registration of those
present.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jkkUEf7GzIcJd015AZUhgJrvGvHqLP3VPAIB6PbWtB_w7_PndwtB-IiqU1aznOSZcRFVKnCPLpRTA0xWrXfBoxOEYqbZ6O8_hyFdPzTaJOfBmAVygNNU1Yd8x4gKZYt4rFogzds0ivw/s1600/police_1925BG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jkkUEf7GzIcJd015AZUhgJrvGvHqLP3VPAIB6PbWtB_w7_PndwtB-IiqU1aznOSZcRFVKnCPLpRTA0xWrXfBoxOEYqbZ6O8_hyFdPzTaJOfBmAVygNNU1Yd8x4gKZYt4rFogzds0ivw/s320/police_1925BG.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Photo: 1925 Bowling Green Kentucky Police Department. [Courtesy: Kentucky Library] My Great Uncle Getty Lowe [Back row, 3rd from Left] was a Police Officer for years. He shared many stories about special events and Chief James A. Corbin, who was mentioned in this article. </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Blind Man Speaks</b></div>
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A welcoming address by Mayor B. S. Rutherford was followed
by a talk by John Stagner on the subject, “Accomplishments of the Blind.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Stagner was one of the several blind
persons of all ages attending the reunion as guests of the old men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Badly crippled persons also were guests of
the old men.</div>
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Old songs were rendered by V.P. Cassaday, and old favorite
fiddle tunes were rendered by Lem Howell and two accompanists during the
closing session of the reunion Saturday afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>John Beck of Smiths Grove and R. K. Glover
Route 3, Alvaton, also spoke briefly during the program.</div>
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Miss Matt Jackson, centenarian residing on Fairview avenue,
was scheduled to attend the program as special guest of honor, but she was
unable to attend because of ill health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>W.R. Pearson, county resident whose 93 years made him the oldest man
attending the reunion last year, also was absent from the exercises this year.</div>
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Approximately 150 city and county residents 75 years old or
over attending the program are listed in age groups as follows:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seventy-five years old - W.L Moore, 308 Main street; G.W.
Stamps, Rural Route, City; E.L. Morris, General Delivery, City; K.B. Neely, 435
College street; J.A. Whallin, Anna; Robert Richey, Route 4, City; Jack Evans,
Route 3, City; A.G. Cornwell, 122 Portage Railroad; S.A. Witt, Route 5, City;
Sam J. Shield, Route 3, City; W.N. Owens, Route 3, City; John McHugh, 818
Center street; Robert Beck, 1354 High street; J.R. Stuart, 628 Eighth street;
Charlie Salmon, City; Thompson Smither, Route 1, Rockfield; Ben Forsting, 122
Eighth street; David Stewart, Route 1, Alvaton; J.W. Goodrum, 1123 State street
and Jim Howell, City.</div>
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Seventy-six years old --- Jesse Russell, Route 2; W.W.
Lewis, 1044 Chestnut, J.H. Willoughby, Alvaton, R.A. Davis, Smiths Grove; Joe
Owens, Route 5; E.N. Vernon, 1330 Clay; E.W. Edwards, Route 1; W.T. Andrews,
1319 Kenton; A.J. Justice, Alvaton; J.W. Barber, Richardsville; T.J.
Willoughby, Route 2; Tom Hendricks, Sunnyside; Aaron Miller, Rockfield; J.R.
Ellis, 1112 Chestnut; John D. Phelps, Route 4; Alex Smith, 1040 Chestnut; M.W.
Neely, Alvaton; W.A. Lewis Route 6; Barton Pennington, Smiths Grove, Pat
Murphy, 712 Scott street and Sam E. Miller, Richardsville.</div>
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Seventy-seven years old --- J.A. Smith, Oakland; W.E.
Garrett, 504 First; J.W. Lowe, 218 College; S.W. Kerley, 517 Seventy; H.L. Tibbs,
Rockfield; J. E. Blankenship, 508 Park; E.J. Miller, Route 5; J.L. Doty, 344
West Tenth; S. S. Hunt, Route 1; John Ferry, 303 Tenth; M.H. Heffington, Park
street, C.D. Johnson, Alvaton; M.K. Wand, 1271 Kentucky; J.H. Ingram, Drake;
J.W. Hiff, Route 6, and C.A. Thomas, Oakland.</div>
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Seventy-eight years old --- H.S. Hunt, Oakland; T.F. Miller,
Richardsville; H.E. Ombenhour, Route 1,; J.C. Sawyer, 401 College; R.W.
Meredith, Riverside; J.H. Kington, Alvaton; D.K. Puckett, 825 Broadway; M.E.
Yates, Alvaton; W.A. Flora, Sunnyside; Calvin Snell, Route 5,; A.H. Simmons,
Route5; L.N. Bumpus, Route5; J.N. Osborne, Route 2; G. H. Wilson, Route 2, W.W.
Elrod, Route 4; W.E. Massey, 1123 State; Lige Upton, Richardsville; and B.A.
Harmon, Alvaton.</div>
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Seventy-nine years old --- Bill Lane, Rotue 2; George W.
Glenn, Riverside; R.M. Cornwell, Route 5; W.S. Downey, Route 3; T.W. Thornton,
Oakland; Jesse Snyder, Route1; T.A. Robinson, Alvaton; W.W. Stinston, 1257
Magnolia; W. Harlow, Sunnyside; F.J. Miller 1143 State; J.W. Crabb, Bristow;
W.B. Hill, 1268 State;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>G.W. Woodward,
11621 Clay; Sam Pennington, Oakland; F.M. Burnett, Oakland; and W.A. Padget,
225 Portage railroad.</div>
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Eighty years old --- A.W. Brown, Route 2; J.E. Wells, Route
3; W.M. Gresham, Smiths Grove; J.C. Carlock, Boyce; George T. Kelly, Woodburn;
J.E. Mercer, 1349 Chestnut; H.B. Hill, Route 3; W.N. Wingfield, Route 1; J.K.
Motley, 151 Broadway; W.F. Ennis, Route 5; J.O. Howard, 1027 Payne; and W.T.
Crow, 808 Eleventh.</div>
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Eighty-one years old --- Pink Cameron, City; J.C. Johnson,
558 State; P.E. Eadens, Route 5; Robert K. Glover, Alvaton; G.W. Butler,
Route3; N.P. Lawrence, Route 5; J.D. Wright, Route 3; W.M. Miller, Route 5;
Will Rector, City; W.B. Bunch, Route 2; L.C. J. Motley, Smiths Grove; R.G.
Miller, Route 5; Virgil Garvin, Route 6; J.O. Beck, Smiths Grove.</div>
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Eighty-two years old --- R.D. Goad, route3; J.E. Meadows,
Smiths Grove; A. Roemer, 111 West<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fourteenth; J.C. Stone, 614 Fairview; Joe D. Smith, 1123 College; D.W.
Howell, 728 State; and J. Tom Williams, Woodburn.</div>
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Eighty-three years old --- John Dean, Route 5.</div>
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Eighty-four years old --- G.W. Shanks, 1148 Adams; F.J.
Kelley, Bristow; W.O. Holland, 325 West Tenth; F.M Howell, route3; and T. J.
Hendricks, Smiths Grove.</div>
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Eighty-five years old --- C.J. White, Benton; E.R. Beck,
Bristow; W.C. Brandon, Route 3; and J.L. Hickman, Route 2.</div>
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Eighty-six years old --- A.B. Johns, Smiths Grove; W.D.
Ballard, 141 West Fourteenth; John R. Miller, Route1, and G.W. Keller, 1362
Clay.</div>
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Eighty-eight years old --- V.M. Cox, 1318 Fourteenth.</div>
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Lunch was served at noon in the Court House yard under the
supervision of Ennis Harris and a corps of assistants.</div>
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One hundred loaves of bread for the meal were contributed by
the Grocers Baking Company, which is constructing a local bakery at Fourteenth
and Adams streets, and other foodstuff was contributed by local merchants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Phillips Transfer Company and the Cole
Transfer Company transported tables and chairs to and from the Court House
yard.</div>
J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-20392209333508876982012-11-04T10:17:00.000-06:002012-11-04T10:17:13.469-06:00Are Social Media Updates Really NewAre Social Media Updates Really New<br />
J. Mark Lowe<br />
<br />
Thousands of folks send tweets and daily updates are posted on Social Media. This phenomenon is really nothing new. Daily activities of citizens were once covered in the daily and weekly newspapers. Consider these musings from the 1917 Nashville [TN] Banner.<br />
Miss Lucy Mae Harned was the hostess at an April Fool party Saturday evening given to compliment her guest. Miss Vesta Lockart of Pembroke, Ky. Besides the honor guest those present were as follows: Misses Loi Hornberger, Elizabeth Barnes, Ethel Gower, Verda Smith, Mattie Pollock, Vera Todd, Josephine White, Ruth Davis, Maggie Farmer, Annie Clay Ogg, and Dorothy Gower. Messrs. Weldon Alley, Wilber Smotherman, Arthur Watson, Bee Lockart, Stanley Gower, A.F. Tilley, Jr., Dewey Morris, Leslie Gower and James Byrd.<br />
Mrs. Thomas Sory entertained Monday evening in honor of Mrs. Emmett Winters, who went to Burgettstown, Pa., this week to reside.
Misses Bertha Bourne and Margie Halliburton of near Port Royal were in Nashville this week.<br />
Mrs. Jerry Porter has returned from visiting near Cedar Hill.<br />
Mrs. Wilbert Winsey has returned to Nashville after visiting with her parents, Mr. and Mrs. W.R. Edwards. Mrs. Hiram Poole was in Springfield this week.<br />
Mrs. Jerry Porter spent the weekend with her aunt, Mrs. J. M. Abshire at Guthrie, Ky.<br />
Misses Florence and Annie May Whitehead visited Mrs. Jeff Rainey en route from Springfield to their home at Turnersville. Miss Verda Smith was in Clarksville this week. Mrs. F. C. Porter visited her parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Robertson at Cedar Hill.<br />
Mrs. George Smith and Miss Nora White were in Springfield. Mr. and Mrs. Polk Ewing, Miss Maude Ewing, and Miss Mary Hallam of near Hampton Station visited Mr. and Mrs. W.D. Woodruff and Mrs. Leecie Mallory near Adams this week. Miss Mary Lou Gower spent the weekend with Miss Martha Elliott at her home near Sadlersville.<br />
Mrs. E.W. Robertson was in Cedar Hill. Misses Ethel and Dorothy Gower of near Sadlersville spent the weekend with their sister, Mrs. Geo. Smith. Miss Mary Johnson of near Stroudsville was the guest of Mrs. Jeff Rainey. Mr. and Mrs. Emmett Winters left Wednesday for Burgettstown, Pa., where they will reside.<br />
Miss Vesta Lockert of Pembroke, Ky. has returned home after visiting Miss Lucy May Harned. Mrs. R.H. Randolph is visiting her daughter, Mrs. Cheatham Dozier, at her home near Springfield.<br />
Mrs. G.F. Deerington was in Springfield this week. Mr. and Mrs. C.D. McQuary and son, Charles, of Hopkinsville, Ky. are spending the weekend with Mrs. McQuary’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. S.F. Alsbrook. Mrs. Carie Whitfield of St. Bethlehem is the guest of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. W.N. Gaines near Port Royal.<br />
Mrs. Frances Elrod of Louisville, Ky is the guest of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. S. F. Alsbrook. Miss Grace Watson visited in Cedar Hill this week.<br />
Rev and Mrs. E.M. Bryant have announced the engagement and approaching marriage April 11 of their sister, Miss Vera Hicks and Mr. Edward Ray of Normandy.
Mrs Joseph Kemper will be hostess of the Springfield Music Club Wednesday.<br />
Mesdames Nannie Johnson of Cross Plains and Julinia Barefield of Barren Plains are the guests of Mr. and Mrs. George Randolph.<br />
Miss Maude Norrod spent the weekend in Memphis. Mrs. John E. Garner and Miss Elizabeth Garner were in Nashville Thursday. Miss Rosa Lou Bell has returned from a visit to Miss Annie Lee Gupton in Nashville. Mr. and Mrs. James Smith , Mr. and Mrs. Charlton Smith, and Mrs. Hayes of Clarksville motored over Monday and were the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Will Bell en route to Nashville.<br />
Miss Rebecca Bell has returned from a trip to Miami and St. Petersburg, Fla. and a visit to friends at Rome, Ga. Misses Fannie and Hardin Walton of Cross Plains who have been the guests of Mr. and Mrs. W.H. Simmons have returned to Belmont College, Nashville.
Mrs. Ione Lewis Hassel and Miss Martha Hassell have returned from a visit to Nashville.<br />
Mesdames Frank Hollins, Jordan S. Brown, and Jesse E. Peck motored over to Adairville Tuesday. Mrs. James A. Long was the guest of her daughter, Mrs. Mamie D. Long at Ward. Miss Leland Smith spent the weekend with Miss Kate Elam in Nashville. Miss Lellie Bell will spend the weekend with Miss Dorothy Tucker in Nashville. Miss Grace Woodard of Martin College, Pulaski and Frederick Woodard of Helena, Ark., were the weekend guests of Mr. and Mrs. T.M. Woodard.
Mr. and Mrs. J. D. Clinard and Miss Mary Lynn Clinard have returned from a several months stay in St. Petersburg, Fla. and other Southern points.<br />
Mr. and Mrs. W.J. Webb of Nashville have returned. Misses Helen and Leota Tucker have returned from a visit to Nashville. Miss Margaret Lewis of Gallatin is the guest of Miss Elizabeth Clinard. Mrs Lula Williams, Misses Maude Nored, Josephine Allensworth, Mary Matthews, Nora McClelland, Sue Taylor were in Nashville this week attending the Educational meeting.<br />
Hon. and Mrs. Charles H. Love have returned from a visit to Nashville. Mrs. James O. Draughon, after spending two years in Colorado and Arizona in search of health, will return home next week.<br />
Miss Maude Nored has returned from a visit to relatives in Paris. Mrs. Herman Todd and children of Murfreesboro are the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Amos Fuqua.<br />
Miss Julia Simmons, who is attending school in Atlanta, is spending the Easter holidays with her parents, Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Simmons. Mrs. Boss Jackson and Miss Margaret Jackson of Cedar Hill have returned.
Source: Nashville Banner, 17 April 1917.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaw8e2cLNokfUg0NGW_raxuK5GHXFxsdj9P5tBYmpWG-hNBQ53EiIK2Z9zH68R6cLZiN3M7NGUmBZAq968QsVOWhLSGID3B5DcLDoljHmzD0wcQi8uJEC9uYubOnWqabDBJ1636gz5FRA/s1600/SimmonsHouse.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaw8e2cLNokfUg0NGW_raxuK5GHXFxsdj9P5tBYmpWG-hNBQ53EiIK2Z9zH68R6cLZiN3M7NGUmBZAq968QsVOWhLSGID3B5DcLDoljHmzD0wcQi8uJEC9uYubOnWqabDBJ1636gz5FRA/s320/SimmonsHouse.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
PHOTO: The W.H. Simmons House, Springfield, TN; Miss Julia Simmons, who is attending school in Atlanta, is spending the
Easter holidays with her parents, Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Simmons. <br />
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We can use these musings to learn more about our families. Finding the local newspaper or even reports from larger city reports may be useful. Find some 'old' news and keep the story alive.
J. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3786508387495803613.post-38140524847407549252012-04-02T10:53:00.001-05:002023-12-24T17:27:28.713-06:00Thinking About Aunt Grace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpDzMIi9u70hSWtkqfCNKKij_lZu8NE8jDx1ClVYvHDdNrg1b2fb2dnAb_sgPXFZ4P5yEfWz-fqoAdGNd2ryQJDPlLZzAZWcX_DkwQTt0kJ5Rqx1BYjfS2_nsOJAsaKEEqTr1FOEGtP8/s1600/Grace_Lan.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpDzMIi9u70hSWtkqfCNKKij_lZu8NE8jDx1ClVYvHDdNrg1b2fb2dnAb_sgPXFZ4P5yEfWz-fqoAdGNd2ryQJDPlLZzAZWcX_DkwQTt0kJ5Rqx1BYjfS2_nsOJAsaKEEqTr1FOEGtP8/s400/Grace_Lan.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Photograph of Grace Meisel Martin and William Lanis Martin - taken in the early 1940s.<br />
<br />
Thinking About Aunt Grace<br />
J. Mark Lowe<br />
<br />
In anticipation of the release of the 1940 census (<a href="http://1940census.archives.gov">www.1940census.archives.gov</a>), I have been thinking about lots of family members that I would like to review. My parents were not yet married in 1940, so they will still be living at home with their parents. My Dad graduated from College High in 1940, but we will save that story for another day. However, since my Dad was one of the oldest grandchildren of James W. and Clara Martin, his Uncle and Aunts spoiled him tremendously. Even after my Dad moved the family from Kentucky to Middle Tennessee, the family would often surprise us at home with the whole wonderful entourage. What wonderful memories I have. <br />
My Mom and Dad both loved so many of those folks, and encouraged us to know all of our family. One of those Great Aunts was Grace Meisel Martin. She was married to my Dad’s Uncle Lan. His full name was William Lanis Martin and he was named for one of his Uncles. Lan and Grace farmed in the Oakland community of Warren County. <br />
Grace Meisel was born the 12th of August 1909[1]. My Dad (J.W.) was born at the end of August and they always celebrated their birthdays together when possible. She was the oldest daughter of Edward Amel and Nora Ellis Vincent Meisel.[2] They lived in the Bee Springs Community of Edmonson County, Kentucky. Aunt Grace loved her siblings. Her sister, Anna, was often included in Martin family gatherings and she was a wonderful storyteller and great teacher. Her baby brother, Charles, was always funny and a great Christian gentleman. He continued to brighten our Martin Reunions with his laughter, stories and warmth until his passing.<br />
Edward Amel Meisel was also born in Edmonson County, Kentucky.[3] His father, Maximillian A. Meisel was born 1850 in Baden,Germany and migrated to the United States about 1871.[4] Max married Anna E. Couran , 1 Jan 1874 in Boston[5], and the family lived near Boston until 1879 when they moved to Edmonson County, Kentucky.[6] Edward was naturalized in the Federal Court in Boston, Massachusetts on 13 November 1877.[4] The three oldest children of Max and Anna were born in Boston: Augustus Maximillian, Charles Paulus, and Isadora.[7] Their younger children, including Edward A., were born in Edmonson County.[2]<br />
For years, I loved visiting with Aunt Grace. She would always tell me that she grew up in Bee Springs. I still remember the day, my folks drove across the ferry and we visited Bee Springs. Grace Meisel Martin was a lively character, who loved people with all her soul. Our visits to her home after Uncle Lan passed often lasted for hours, with Aunt Grace insisting that we stay long enough to eat. We often left her house with magazines, books or other valued objects – all with a connected story. <br />
After my Dad passed in 1989, I often visited Aunt Grace with my mother, Chris. My Mom told me how Aunt Grace and Uncle Lan had welcomed her into the family. They would often go visit for the weekend when they were young newlyweds. This relationship lasted a lifetime. You could always be assured of a bear hug with Aunt Grace. <br />
On one visit after my Dad passed, Aunt Grace encouraged my Mom to stay busy. She said, “Chris, hon, Nothing can fill that hole that J.W. left, but your heart is big enough to fill with more love. Visit those grandchildren, keep working, and travel.” My Mom certainly heeded the words of Aunt Grace . On that particular day, there was a gift of ‘clean’ romance novels, a bundle of <i><a href="http://www.biblepathway.org/">Bible Pathway</a></i> readers, a few magazines, and a selection from the Avon Bottles. I guess I forgot to mention that Aunt Grace collected Avon bottles. She had them lined up on shelves installed across windows, so the light could glow through them. I selected Pontiac, which still stands on the shelf above by the window. Aunt Grace passed from this life in 1992, but her memory is still strong in our hearts. Her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren discuss her often and she carry some of her same traits: loving, great storytellers, giving, always funny and great cooks. Thanks Aunt Grace for sharing yourself.<br />
[Aunt Grace has a great-grandson named Max.] Update: I gave the Pontiac bottle to Max Wheeler. Here's just a small part of her family several years ago. <br />
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Keep the Story Alive.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLs4-EOqeR-Kjd111wxuqHP6V8SZ3Y8UCxWFYMFX_5Ej-tqfD7jUo6l4xbWDJqEH26_BhmVqDnDlYSTpK72GYcHjd3orssmQh5bb6UP7sxj9wEOJucmSkEE8pUvo70FA_zkLeg0JDmqk/s1600/100_1081.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLs4-EOqeR-Kjd111wxuqHP6V8SZ3Y8UCxWFYMFX_5Ej-tqfD7jUo6l4xbWDJqEH26_BhmVqDnDlYSTpK72GYcHjd3orssmQh5bb6UP7sxj9wEOJucmSkEE8pUvo70FA_zkLeg0JDmqk/s320/100_1081.JPG" width="203" /></a></div><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pontiac">Pontiac</a><br />
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[1] Grave marker and family records<br />
[2] 1910, 1920 Census Records, Death Certificate, Oral History<br />
[3] Oral History, 1900 Census, Death Certificate<br />
[4]Naturalization Record, Federal Court, Boston 13 Nov 1877<br />
[5]1874 Register of Marriages in Boston<br />
[6] 1880 Census<br />
[7] Registers of Birth, Boston, MassachusettsJ. Mark Lowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03760301737179849782noreply@blogger.com0