Yet To Be

May 9, 1948 is written on the back of this picture. Let's see. That would be around three years after World War II, and just about the start of the "Cold War". War does not seem to be a big issue on either face, but hey, this was Winchester, KY. Far removed from the politics of the world at this time it was.

It is a picture of my grandfather (Joseph Wheeler Jones, we called Pap paw) and his baby girl (Linda Carol). Fathers and daughters have a special relationship. [Having three daughters of my own I have a little experience with this!] The look on Linda Carol's face is precious. "My daddy", she seems to be saying... standing here with my dad, how special.

This was also three years before I was even born. Hard to imagine that I was not even in existence when this picture was taken. Yet to be. Funny how that sounds now looking back in time. That Y-chromosome had been passed down to my Dad, but it was yet to be passed on to me. I can not imagine all the things that happened during this period before I was. Mom, Dad..." first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby carriage..." as we use to sing. That's what our ancestors are...all the things that happened before we were. Us...mostly the sum of them. How about that! We all at one time were yet to be.

After 20,235 Views: The Top 10

My blog experience began with The Jones Genealogist, July 7, 2010. Now after some 20,000 views I thought it would be of interest to list the top ten post viewed by those reading this blog. Thanks to all, and I hope more to come. The title of the post is given, followed by its date. On the blog page is listed "blog archives", and this title can be clicked to bring up a listing of the posts by dates. Here goes:

1) To Genealogist Everywhere: We are The Chosen - Nov. 12, 2010.
2) 50 Years of Genealogy - July 7, 2010.
3) Ping-Pong Genealogy - Dec. 17, 2010.
4) True Tree Climbing - July 8, 2010.
5) Jones Genealogy - June 15, 2011.
6) When Genealogy Becomes Geography - Dec. 10, 2010.
7) World War II Victory Medal - Nov. 22, 2011.
8) Adolescence - Dec. 2, 2011.
9) Gunter's Chain - Feb. 3, 2011.
10) Looking Back: Book About Walker Daniel and Early Danville - Aug. 24, 2011.

Wow! Hard to imagine 20,235 views.

Flatrock Township 1834

Recorded 15 October 1835, in Deed Record 87, page 126, Indianapolis, IN is an "Act of Congress", United States, to Nicholas Jones, Sr. Just short of one year before, on 12 November 1834, 160 acres was deeded to this Nicholas Jones located at the "Southwest Quarter of Section 36, Township 10 North of Range 6 East". [Tract Book, page 67] This area became known as "Flatrock Township, Bartholomew Co., IN" In his Revolutionary War Service Record (S16169) it is recorded that on the 18th of May 1835, Nicholas Jones personally appeared to declare that he was the same person who formerly belonged to the company commanded by Capt. James Johnson, of the First Regiment of VA militia. He had been placed on the pension roll of the state of Kentucky from where "...he has lately removed..." because "His children and grand children removed from said state of KY to Indiana, and on account of his age and infirmities he was inclined to follow them."

The above picture is that of his headstone. It is located 1/2 to 3/4 mile east of Northonburg, IN on the south side of the road. In 1972, this cemetery was recorded by Mary Frances Urbahns, who describes the headstones, and their identity. Known as the JONES cemetery [also called YELEY cemetery] she describes a field stone, carved on in very fine writing JONES. She reports that an N was present before the JONES, this headstone was believed to be the marker of the Revolutionary War Soldier, NICHOLAS JONES. When my Dad took this photograph some twenty years later, all writing was gone.

The drawing to the right is my attempt to outline the township, section 36. The 160 acres were located in the southwest corner. Ten acres was set aside for this cemetery. It is recorded that it was to be "...a certain lot or parcel of ground for the use of the public as a burying ground 150 feet deep and 50 feet wide..." and "...known by the name of Jones Grave Yard...". It is recorded by Ms. Urbahns that the "...very fine writing..." indicated that Nicholas was "...born ? Nov. 1760 died Oct. 18, 1842". My own research found Nicholas Jones, b. 14, Nov. 1762, and died Oct. 18, 1845.

Hello, grandfather Nicholas Jones. Thanks for your life. Your great, great, great, great, grandson.

Circle The Wagons

Wagon Train and Rawhide were sitcoms back in the days when only black & white TV existed. It is hard to imagine that there was such a day, but believe me I was there! "Head'um up...move'um out...Rawhide..." was the song I sang many a night while watching those cowpokes whip those cattle into shape. I guess you could really call it the dark ages.

Now Wagon Train was a little different. You had families moving westward on a long, long trip. It always seemed they never really got there, but they sure tired hard to make their way along those bumpy trails. Tough times were around every bend, and you never quite knew when those Indians would attack. "Circle the wagons...!" was a cry to let everyone know that pulling together would help all get through those arrows and bullets. Not everyone would make it of course, but on the whole most of the wagons kept moving. Helping one another along the way was the message.

The picture above shows my grandchildren with their aunt Lesley. Sam (the son of my oldest daughter Lisa), followed by Will(the middle), and little Ian (the youngest, and both sons of my youngest daughter, Ellen). They appear to have circled their wagons, and were ready to face any challenge awaiting them this day. No one ahead, no one behind... just imagine.

Families are like this I thought. Tough times around every bend in the road. Pull together and we will make it along our way ... circle the wagons.

"Grandmother, Grandmother"!

Looking through a stack of family pictures this morning I was impressed by the picture shown to the right. Gertrude Patterson Monroe Jones, born 1904, I remembered. What flashed through the canyons of my mind was a memory of the black and white TV version of "Heidi" where Shirley Temple [Heidi], lost in the forest, was yelling "Grandfather, Grandfather!". When lost in many of my childhood forests, it must have been "Grandmother, Grandmother", we called her "Mam Maw".

Her house on Jackson street was certainly a forest to a very young mind. The back yard extended to a deep drainage ditch where much of the rain water flowed. Here a tall peach tree stood with those tasty peaches calling from above the ground. [Those that had already fallen had flies, worms, or rot surrounding them which was not first on my menu of the day.] Throwing sticks would often be successful at knocking down a choice morsel, but this activity was often left unrewarded.

Now climbing this tree was a real challenge. It was at least 6-8 feet before you could even see the first branch! How was one to do this? Stacking up rocks...no, no, too heavy; jumping from the fence post standing nearby...no, no, too flimsy and too far...; getting help from big brother...no, no, I can do this...; on, and on, it would go! Many times I would punt and move to the cherry tree much nearer the house. It had a V-shaped trunk just 2-3 feet off the ground which provided a much easier access. However, the cherries had those large central pits which made for hazardous chewing at times, and you always had to spit a lot.

The day finally came when I was determined to climb this peach tree. Moving a wheelbarrow near and under the lowest branch..., balancing perfectly in the center..., jumping carefully... I could just touch the bottom of the lowest branch. I can do this. Position, jump, grab, climb, and one of those tasty peaches would be mine!

At least the first three items were completed successfully. However, instead of the "climb", I experienced "the fall". Landing flat on my back, I had the wind knocked out of me. I could not breathe! Looking up through the leaves dancing in the summer's wind, I thought this is what it must be to die. Summer, sun light sprinkling its rays through the leaves... and that peach smiling down at me from above..."Grandmother, Grandmother!"

"Ship Ahoy!" Coming Home

It was called the "Marine Robin" out of Philadelphia. Hundreds of men [and a few women] were on board returning from Germany...coming home, 1946. It must have been an overcast day, but this robin was certainly chirping. All smiles, at least in the heart, I would guess.

Folks were lined up on all sides! Standing, looking into the camera, as a series of pictures were taken. At least a total of twenty since these photos are from my Dad's collection, and he was there. He tells me he once knew where he was among this army of men and women.

A tug boat named "BENJBBRADY" is shown coming along side. I suspect it was pronounced "Benjamen B Brady". I wonder how many times it was called on to do its job.

The final picture shows just a fraction of the men and women who were coming home. Some clearly smiling, some are not. Some are in complete uniform, tie and hat, some are not. Some standing, some squatting, some leaning, some holding on to anything close by...what would be in their minds? What was seen and done would forever change these lives. How many times yet to come? "Ship Ahoy" I say, welcome home.

First Snow Fall of 2012

Several days ago, my wife Nancy called me to our large front door to view the first snow fall of these winter months. A sprinkling here...a sprinkling there...not the white Christmas that is sung about I thought, but a white touch to the new year. How special it has always seemed to see the first snow flakes of winter. [The picture to the right shows our house at its first dusting.]

Having grown up in Kentucky, you were always uncertain as to when this event would happen. It might even happen before Christmas, but often it would wait until January. However, twenty five years of experiencing snow falls in Kentucky did little to prepare me for my first Iowa snow fall. Here it seemed that winter snow started around Thanksgiving, and the ground stayed covered with snow until Easter! Piles and piles of it, blown by the snow plow to stacks that at times seemed 10 feet tall. [Rough estimate from this UK Big Blue disciple!]. Natives frequently started our conversation with..."You're not from here, are you?" [Perhaps my chattering teeth gave me away.] "I am from Kentucky", I would say. "Oh, you're from the South then", often came the reply. Five Iowa winters taught me a lot about hard working folks who knew how to turn winter into play time. [My three daughters were all born in the corn fields of Iowa!]

Then moving to Alabama some years later [Roll Tide!] I looked forward to Alabama winters. No snow, no plows, no icy roads were in my expectations. Not! [As was frequently said!]. My first Alabama winter was spent at 6 degrees below zero (Fahrenheit)! "...You're not from here, are you..?", was often asked. "I'm from Kentucky" was my reply. "Oh, you're from the North", came the response. What!? North!? I thought I was from the South! Who would have guessed! I could be from both the North and the South!

Wow, I thought...maybe that is what it means to be from Kentucky. Our State Motto is: "United We Stand, Divided We Fall". Perhaps we need to spread it around a little bit. Funny what the first snow flakes of winter will bring to mind.