Southern Graves

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Schroeder the Fisherman (pg 124) I SAT ON the bank above Bernadotte And dropped crumbs in the water, Just to see the minnows bump each other, Until the strongest got the prize. Or I went to my little pasture, Where the peaceful swine were asleep in the wallow, Or nosing each other lovingly, And emptied a basket of yellow corn, And watched them push and squeal and bite, And trample each other to get the corn. And I saw how Christian Dallman's farm, Of more than three thousand acres, Swallowed the patch of Felix Schmidt, As a bass will swallow a minnow. And I say if there's anything in ma...

Leslie Lee Lancaster was my (half) 2nd great grand uncle. But he never made it to adulthood. You see, when Leslie Lee was a little over a year old, having a bit of a hard time while teething, someone gave him a tad too much morphine. Overdosed while teething. Ouch. I cannot imagine how his parents felt -- whether one or both were "the cause", or not. Source:   Missouri Digital Heritage The official cause of death was listed as "Ignorantly accidental (overdose morphine)". The secondary factor was "Teething." Leslie Lee Lancaster was laid to rest in Hickory Grove Cemetery at Morley, Scott County, Missouri. I've submitted a photo request via FindAGrave. Fingers crossed for a marked (and labeled!) grave. If you enjoyed this content, please consider supporting my blog.

When conducting any kind of historical research, coming across a suicide always gives me pause. Even though it's not always a conscious act, I know I'm taking a brief moment to mourn the loss. A loss I don't pretend to understand. With the recent passing of Robin Williams, I'm reminded that those who seem to "have it all" sometimes are wrestling with demons unseen. © 2008 S. Lincecum In 1922, two days after his 63rd birthday, Dr. Henry Macon Holtzclaw, Jr. took his own life. Why? Heaven only knows. Following from 22 January 1922 edition, Macon Daily Telegraph (Georgia) -- via GenealogyBank : DR. HOLTZCLAW, PERRY, SUICIDES Prominent Physician Shoots Self in Head With Pistol. REASON FOR DEED UNKNOWN Found in Bed Dying By Brother; Funeral Will Be Held Today. PERRY, Ga., Jan. 21. -- Dr. Henry M. Holtzclaw, 63, prominent citizen of Houston county, died tonight at 8:30 o'clock from a bullet wound in the right temple, it being self inflicted b...

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Elsa Wertman (pg. 79) I WAS A peasant girl from Germany, Blue-eyed, rosy, happy and strong. And the first place I worked was at Thomas Greene's. On a summer's day when she was away He stole into the kitchen and took me Right in his arms and kissed me on my throat, I turning my head. Then neither of us Seemed to know what happened. And I cried for what would become of me. And cried and cried as my secret began to show. One day Mrs. Greene said she understood, And would make no trouble for me, And, being childless, would adopt it. (He had given her a farm to be still.) So she hid in the h...

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Credit: Vintage Kin George Gray (pg. 49) I HAVE STUDIED many times The marble which was chiseled for me -- A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor. In truth it pictures not my destination But my life. For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment; Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid; Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances. Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life. And now I know that we must lift the sail And catch the winds of destiny Wherever they drive the boat. To put meaning in one's life may end in madness, But life without meaning ...

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Harold Arnett (pg. 37) I LEANED AGAINST the mantel, sick, sick, Thinking of my failure, looking into the abysm, Weak from the noon-day heat. A church bell sounded mournfully far away, I heard the cry of a baby, And the coughing of John Yarnell, Bed-ridden, feverish, feverish, dying, Then the violent voice of my wife: "Watch out, the potatoes are burning!" I smelled them...then there was irresistible disgust. I pulled the trigger...blackness...light... Unspeakable regret...fumbling for the world again. Too late! Thus I came here, With lungs for breathing...one cannot breathe here wit...

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Dorcas Gustine (pg. 35) I WAS NOT beloved of the villagers, But all because I spoke my mind, And met those who transgressed against me With plain remonstrance, hiding nor nurturing Nor secret griefs nor grudges. That act of the Spartan boy is greatly praised, Who hid the wolf under his cloak, Letting it devour him, uncomplainingly. It is braver, I think, to snatch the wolf forth And fight him openly, even in the street, Amid dust and howls of pain. The tongue may be an unruly member -- But silence poisons the soul. Berate me who will -- I am content.

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Knowlt Hoheimer (pg. 26) I WAS THE first fruits of the battle of Missionary Ridge. When I felt the bullet enter my heart I wished I had staid at home and gone to jail For stealing the hogs of Curl Trenary, Instead of running away and joining the army. Rather a thousand times the county jail Than to lie under this marble figure with wings, And this granite pedestal Bearing the words, " Pro Patria ." What do they mean, anyway? [ Pro Patria is a Latin phrase that translates to ' for one's country .' Apparently, "Knowlt" had other reasons for joining the Army. But is th...

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Constance Hately (pg. 15) YOU PRAISE MY self-sacrifice, Spoon River, In rearing Irene and Mary, Orphans of my older sister! And you censure Irene and Mary For their contempt for me! But praise not my self-sacrifice, And censure not their contempt; I reared them, I cared for them, true enough! -- But I poisoned my benefactions With constant reminders of their dependence.

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Amanda Barker (pg. 15) HENRY GOT ME with child, Knowing that I could not bring forth life Without losing my own. In my youth therefore I entered the portals of dust. Traveler, it is believed in the village where I lived That Henry loved me with a husband's love, But I proclaim from the dust That he slew me to gratify his hatred.

A sweet co-worker recently introduced me to Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology , a collection of free-form poems written as epitaphs for deceased residents of a small town. S graciously lent me a copy of the book , and I have since found out there is an online edition . Though these epitaphs are fictional , I hope you'll permit me to share some of my favorites with you here. Cassius Hueffer (pg. 14) THEY HAVE CHISELED on my stone the words: "His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him That nature might stand up and say to all the world, This was a man." Those who knew me smile As they read this empty rhetoric. My epitaph should have been: "Life was not gentle to him, And the elements so mixed in him That he made warfare on life, In the which he was slain." While I lived I could not cope with slanderous tongues, Now that I am dead I must submit to an epitaph Graven by a fool!

Benjamin T. Bethune was born in Milledgeville, Georgia 12 March 1848. At the age of just sixteen years, he enlisted in the Confederate Army at Columbus. About a year after he enlisted, at the time of surrender in April 1864, Benjamin was separated from his company. His commander had sent him out on scout duty to watch the enemy's advance on the city. This information was gleaned from Benjamin's 1910 Confederate pension application . As I continued reading the application, there was found a neat little tidbit about Benjamin T. Bethune. When asked why he was not with his company at surrender, B. T. supplied the information stated above and added that he was cut off by the enemy. He was then asked, "What effort did you make to return?" The reply was Swam Chattahoochee River Horseback . Wow. More details were learned about Benjamin's life after the Civil War by reading his obituary. The following was posted in Milledgeville's Union Recorder 31 August ...

A few days ago, I received a nice email from Mr. Dennis Roland, providing an obituary for a Find-A-Grave memorial I created almost six years ago for Joshua J. Tinley. I posted it to the memorial, of course, and now here. In Memory Of My Husband Joshua J. Tinley Dec 5, 1841 May 19, 1907 At Rest Liberty United Methodist Church Cemetery Bibb County, Georgia JOSHUA TINLEY DIES AFTER SHORT ILLNESS Mr. Joshua J. Tinley died at his home in Rutland district Sunday morning at senven [sic] o'clock after an illness of only a few days. He was one of Bib [sic] County's best known citizens and farmers and was a man of refined gentle manner. He was beloved by the entire community in which he lived. Mr. Tinley was a Confederate veteran and was a gallant soldier, having served throughout the Civil War with the exception of nine months, being a prisoner for that time at Lookout Point, Maryland, until the surrender of the Confederate army. He is survived by his wife and two c...

James Bowie was my 2nd cousin (7x removed). You know, the guy who designed the Bowie knife and fell at the Alamo. Well...I think so, anyway. I cannot yet personally prove the relationship, and there is conjecture among family historians of the Lincecum - Bowie connection. To put it plainly, it seems some of the Bowies don't want to claim the Lincecums. I don't know why, really. I guess a famous naturalist is not as cool as a "knife maker". ( She said with tongue firmly in cheek. ) The real subject of this post, anyway, is James Madison Alden. He was first married to Charlotte Elizabeth Bowie. That (might!) make him the husband of my 3rd cousin, 6x removed. James led a neat life, at least in his early years. He joined the Navy and began work on the west coast of the United States in 1854, when just 20 years old, as an artist / cartographer for the U.S. Boundary Commission. He spent his days drawing the views before him. Here is one of my favorites, da...

In Memory of Julia Eveline Wife of Dr. J. T. Dickinson, of Albany, GA Died Aug 6th, 1867 Aged 35 years Greensboro City Cemetery Greene County, Georgia Photo © 2013 S. Lincecum

Isaac Stocks Pvt GA Troops Rev. War 1795 Greensboro City Cemetery Greene County, Georgia According to a U.S. Headstone Application for Military Veterans , Isaac's grave site was not marked with the stone pictured above until 1939.

Georgia Baptists was published just two years before the death of Thomas Stocks. A section of the book contains biographies, one of which is devoted to him. It should be called an autobiography , though, since Thomas wrote the piece himself. The bulk of the article is of course devoted to Thomas's connection with the Baptist faith. Here are a couple of snippets chronicling two event dates that made it to his tombstone: I was born the 1st of February, 1786, in an Indian fort, near my present residence, in Greene county. The Oconee river was then the line between the whites and the Creek Indians, who were so troublesome as frequently to drive the whites into forts...The men worked in squads, a few days on each farm, and had to put out sentinels to protect them from surprise while at work. While most of the men were thus employed, the Indians frequently attacked the forts, but were invariably repulsed, a few prudent men and the women defending them successfully...This state o...

Annie Derry Infant Daughter of E. D. & M. K. Jones Born June 14, 1889 Died July 18, 1890 "The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." ~ Greensboro City Cemetery in Greene County, Georgia

Here rests all that is mortal of HENRY M. BURNS Born Dec 22nd, 1844 in Chamber Co. Ala, he died Nov 1st, 1873 in Atlanta, Ga., a brave soldier of the Confederate Army, a faithful member of the Baptist Church, a consistent Mason, a patriotic Citizen & a true friend. As the editor of the "Greensboro Herald" from 1868 to 1872 he advocated with great ability, the doctrines of Jeffersonian Democracy and firmly opposed all departures there from. In early youth, poor and unknown, by virtuous industry, in a few years he acquired a competency and won an emiable name. His noble example lives -- a stimulus to the _____ ambition of young manhood. 📚 BOOK #AD -- A Graveyard Preservation Primer -- "A time-tested resource for those who are seeking information regarding the protection and preservation of historic graveyards." (As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualified purchases.) 📚 When I visited Greensboro City Cemetery (Greene County, Georgia) almos...

In Memory of Henrietta M. Dawson Wife of Hon. William C. Dawson And daughter of Dr. Thomas and Sidney Wingfield Born in Washington, Georgia Oct 7th, 1801 Died in Washington City, D.C. April 7th, 1850 And here her precious dust reposes. Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord. Greensboro City Cemetery Greene County, Georgia Photo © 2013 S. Lincecum She was blessed with a strong intellect, admirable judgement, and peculiar gentleness of disposition. As a member of the Social Circle and of the Church of Christ, she will be remembered for her cheerfulness and piety harmonious and attractive. AS DAUGHTER, Sister, Wife and Mother, she was exemplary, pure and lovely in all HER KINDNESS OF HEART, AND the beautiful proprieties that adorned her character; have left, for those who knew her, a hallowed and precious fragrance which can never be destroyed. "We hear thy voice. It cometh oft In sorrow's gush and memory's swell When sigh we for ...