The sequence of physical and mental experiences that make up our existence can vary widely from individual to individual. Some have a large number of years to conduct or pass one's time, and some have very few. For Charley B. Jones, it was not all that many.
Buried in a long forgotten, isolated family cemetery some 139 years ago, Charley Butler Jones had roughly ten of these years. He was the older brother to my great grandfather Edward Turner Jones who would have been around six when Charley died. What were his ten years like? A childhood at "Old Cane-Springs" just where the ferry crossed the Kentucky River at the mouth of Red River. The Red River road brought folks to the ferry, and it must have been an active place day in and day out. Much to provide physical and mental stimulus to this life. Ten years and your gone. Maybe he filled his days with excitement...knowing what it is to be one of those Jones boys growing in my own world. He had a bunch of older brother and sisters [nine to be exact] that would have helped keep him out of trouble...or helped lead him into trouble. Brothers and sisters are like that you know. On his headstone it reads: "God's finger touched him - and he slept". What would your brothers and sisters write on yours?