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Wednesday, 30 November 2016

Bringing Home The Tree

Growing up, our tree was always a real tree from the first Christmas I can remember until I was well into my twenties, and yes, still living at home.  A few times we cut one ourselves (just to give me the experience I guess) but mostly Dad would pick one up at a tree lot a couple of weeks before Christmas and leave it outside for a week before bringing it in.  He said he 'needed to look at it a bit'.
He always bought a tree that was way too big for our little house but there was a method to his madness.  You see, no tree is perfect.  There is usually one side of the tree that is a little 'sparse' shall we say.  When Dad cut the bottom off the tree in order for it to fit in without bending at the ceiling and when he trimmed the trunk a foot or so,  (to make room for presents underneath don't you know) there were always several lovely branches that could be used to ''fluff up'  the thin parts of the tree.   Dad would use the brace and bit to drill a few holes in the trunk and insert the extra branches.  The result?  TaDa!  A perfect tree.
In the beginning (gee, just like Genesis) there was no tree stand in which to pour water.  Those came along a few years later.  Dad would nail a large wooden cross to the underside of the trunk which enabled the mighty fir/spruce/pine (whatever the flavour of the day was) to stand up beautifully balanced.   Dad, however, was a man who took no chances when it came to kids, cats and trees.  There was a hook in our ceiling directly above where the tree always stood.  A wire was attached from the tree to the hook. That tree wasn't going anywhere.
At first it was Dad who looked after the strings of lights and Mom who decorated the tree.  As time went by Dad still did the lights but my sister and I decorated the tree.  A few years later, Dad tossed us the lights and said, "Go to it.  Good luck."  To give Mom credit I don't think she ever readjusted any of the decor on the tree which is really saying something because she was a bit of a 'tinsel perfectionist'.
When I hit my twenties I began to be aware of a certain amount of resistance from Dad when it came to anything Christmas, particularly the tree.  One year, when it was one week to Christmas and no evidence of a tree on the property, I took matters into my own hands.  I walked down to the corner lot and bought a tree, the last one on the lot, and dragged it home  slowly and, I might add, painfully, by myself.  Mom and Dad were out for the evening so I leaned it up against the side of the house by the back door and left it there.   In the morning Mom told me the story of their ride home.  They had reached the turn to our street (you know, where the tree lot was) and Dad said "Hey, look at that, someone bought a tree and dragged it home the old fashioned way."  A little further along the street all he had to say was "Hmmm....."  And finally he turned to Mom and said, "You know, I think I know where that tree is going."
The best tree we ever had though, didn't need any fluffing or fixing and was free...yes....you heard me right...it was free.  One week before Christmas and no sign of a tree (sound familiar) and the four of us were crammed into the car of Dads pickup to do the last little bit of Christmas shopping and grocery buying before the big day.  Three of us were determined that we weren't coming home without a tree.  Tree lot after tree lot disappeared in the rear view mirror on the way to town.  Tree lot after tree lot disappeared in the rear view mirror on the way home.  Not one lot passed without being remarked upon by at least one of the female passengers.  Dads blood pressure was rising...our agitation was noticeable.  Finally Dad exploded with, "For Pete's sake, stop badgering me, we'll get a tree okay."  Just at the corner of our street (you know, where the tree lot is) a huge truck loaded with Christmas trees up ahead of us hit a bump in the road and...you know where this is going right....a tree fell off the truck, the truck kept going, Dad stopped and threw the tree in the back and said, "There.  Are you satisfied?  We got a tree."  BEST TREE EVER    That year on boxing day Mom bought an artificial tree and we never had a real tree again.

Tuesday, 29 November 2016

Big Things...Little Things

Have you ever noticed it's not the big things that drive you screaming over the edge like lemmings off a cliff?   It's the little things that do it.  Seems you can handle death, marriage, birth, loss of job....but that lady on TV who says "Get chore house sold." can raise your blood pressure.  That guy on the fragrance commercial who asks you, "How's a guy supposed to move on-uh?"  He makes me grind my teeth.  Or, how about that guy who sits in your living room and can never take his coffee cup with him when he leaves the room?  That guy.  Yeah.  Talk about road rage?  He gives me living room rage.  Daily.  The kid who never calls Mom unless she wants something.  That can start a rant that goes on for hours-uh.  Yes..it's the little things.  The straw on the camels back things.  I can stand the big load, it's the straws that are killing me.

Monday, 28 November 2016

The Shopping and the Wrapping

Years ago.  So many years ago.  Christmas shopping was so simple then.  Mom would take me out to the five and dime store where we would pick up Christmas gifts for me to give to Dad and my Grandparents.    It never varied; socks or hankies for the men or sometimes a box of cigars for Grandad Peters, I can't remember what we bought for the Grandmothers.  The gifts were always something that would be used, practical things usually, except for the cigars.  Cigars came in nice flat little boxes.  White Owls sticks in my mind.  When I got old enough I was allowed to help with the wrapping.  "Put the tape here." would be the instruction, or, "Fold the paper like this."  Do you remember the Christmas stickers and gift tags from the early 50's?  You licked the stickers.  At the end of a wrapping session your tongue was glued to the roof of your mouth.  One memory stands out crystal clear.  Grandads cigars were wrapped and Mom said I could put on the stickers and the tag and then she wandered away to put on the tea.  I covered the entire package with stickers.  You couldn't see the wrapping for the stickers.  Mom mentioned that there was no need for so many but it went under the tree just like that.
When my Mom passed away and we were cleaning out her closet Dad told me to take all the wrapping papers home with me as he had no intention of gift shopping and wrapping ever again.  I did as I was told.  A few years later, desperate for some paper I dumped out the bag of wrapping supplies.   This is what I found:





I can't remember when we last used these stickers to gift wrap.  Moms hands were the last to touch them as she frugally stored them away.  "You never know when you might need them"...I can hear her now.

Sunday, 27 November 2016

An Organized Christmas

Do you have your Christmas cards mailed yet?   We get our few cards out the first week in December to avoid the rush.  Writing out these few cards always reminds me of my mothers annual Christmas Card blow out extraordinaire.  There must have been close to 200 people on her list and each and every card had a short personal note in it.
Most of her cards had  glittery sparkle on them that felt thick and crusty.
Back then you could mail a sealed Christmas card for five cents.  It was cheaper if you didn't seal the envelope.
The dining room table was off limits for about a week as Mom chewed her way through the list and added new people to it.
Mom was what you would call a "considerate poster".  There were no postal or zip codes back then you see, so Mom would separate all her cards into cities, God bless her, and wrap them in an elastic band with a little piece of paper on top that said  "all.......(whatever city it was).  I'm sure the post office thought she was some kind of divine presence.
We would make a special trip in to Newmarket and take them right into the post office rather than letting the mail carrier pick them up at the end of the driveway.  One year she found one of her bundles lying in the snow so she didn't trust the carrier for this very important duty.
Each and every card that came in to our home was thoroughly examined, read and cherished by my Mom.  Every card and envelope was compared to "the list" and addresses were corrected and the name ticked off.  Organized...that was Mom.

The following Christmas the cards would be handed over to me to make gift tags from.  The backs of the cards were saved for grocery lists.  No waste,

Saturday, 26 November 2016

Gifts of the Magi

Mom and Dad loved music when I was young.  They had a huge stack of 78's of music from well back into the early 40's through to the current day.  They used to have an old suitcase style record player, just a box really with a top that clipped on and a leather handle.  It was quite large.   It only played 78's.  I remember them changing the needles on the player arm.  Is this freaking out those from the CD generation?  Well, this is how our music was delivered back in the day.
I think I was around eleven or twelve when I became aware of Elvis Presley.  My cousin was a very few years older than I and really into the music of the day.  When we went to visit Uncle Jack and Aunt Kay I was sometimes invited to the basement to listen to my cousins records.  I have to admit, at that stage in my life, I really wasn't impressed with modern music.  I could hum you "String of Pearls" with no problem though.
At any rate, I guess Mom and Dad started to think about how close I was to being a teenager and how my ideas and tastes would be changing very very soon.  That Christmas as the big day approached I noticed that the pile of gifts under the tree was small indeed.  It was never huge, you understand, but this year it was really small.  It went unmentioned of course, because I knew that part of our Christmas tradition was that Dad got laid off every year without fail.  It could be that this year things were tighter than usual.
Come Christmas morning you can imagine my surprise to see a  brand new record player and stand beside the tree with a big red ribbon on it and a gift tag addressed to me.  The player was a smaller version of Mom and Dads old suitcase player.  It was more modern looking.  More manageable.  It played 78's, 45's and 33's.   I was given a brief instructional tour of the workings.  There was a new Elvis 45 to play and all their old 78's were on the stand.  We had music all Christmas day and at night the new player and stand was moved to my bedroom.  The 78's went in my room too.  Mom and Dad had traded in their old player to help pay for the new one for me.  And the other gift from the Magi?   While I eventually did learn to like modern music and built a collection of my own, I still loved the old records and the music of the day that Mom and Dad liked so they still got to hear their favourites as well.

Friday, 25 November 2016

It seems like yesterday I mentioned there was eight weeks to Christmas.  If you are like so very many of us you have just burned up four of those weeks with little to no progress toward your holiday preparations.  The best date for mailing any overseas packages has been and gone.  Black Friday has whipped by us with all its great deals in a holiday coloured blur.  The warmest weather for putting up outdoor decorations is a memory.   As we speak, shoppers are out there stocking up on their baking supplies.  When you go for yours, there will be nothing left.   Four weeks dearies....that's what you have left.  Twenty seven days to Christmas Eve.  Yes, I am a Christmas fanatic.  Yes, I will continue to give you a count down.   Yes, I know at this very moment you probably hate me.  It's okay.

Wednesday, 23 November 2016

Using Wednesdays Words

The words provided for today were; complicated, rodent, humour, theology, natural and sarcastic.

My tin foil thinking cap has been reshaped and highly polished so...here goes.

In nature one doesn't often come across a complicated theology student of the rodent persuasion but Rodney, the sarcastic rat, had always been the exception rather than the rule.  The universe had quite the sense of humour the day Rodney was born.

Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Monday morning we took our daughter for her monthly shopping expedition to Costco.  Apparently overnight Mother Nature decided that her brief fling with pseudo summer weather was over and the temperature had dropped to -3.  The wind was howling from a northerly direction.  I watched as the leaves so neatly piled up at the curb for pickup took off down the road, stopped abruptly, changed direction and then repeated the performance.  Okay, maybe the wind was coming from all four directions.  The car door gave me a little resistance as it appeared to be semi frozen shut.  All in all, not  a great day to be crossing the vast waste land of Costco parking lot but hey, a gals gotta do what a gals gotta do.  I stuck my Costco card and my bank card in my pocket, grabbed my cane and locked the car up.  Then, ever so slowly, I released my hold on the car and tested my stability.  Now, I gotta say, I'm no lightweight.  Really.  There's enough of me that I should be able to hold my ground in a fairly high wind.  You have to know that was some wind if it could take me like a para sailor and whip me across the parking lot at high speed.  We latched on to each other, put our heads down and bull dozed our way to the store.  No problem...now all we had to do was get our purchases back to the car across that endless parking lot and get it all stowed away in the trunk without being blown home without the car.  When we finally got home the hubs said, "I'm not leaving the house for the rest of day."  Me neither, and, if tomorrow is like this I'm not going out.

Monday, 21 November 2016

The Latest

Every Christmas has the latest and greatest toy craze.  I remember the year it was Cabbage Patch dolls.  It was the only item on our daughters wish list.  When I saw them in the stores I was all set to pick one up and put it away for Christmas but the hubs....he of the procrastination gene...said "no need to get it now and have it laying around in the road for weeks.  There will lots just before Christmas."  Yeah..right!   By Christmas there wasn't one to be found in the city.  His mother stood in a line up for hours and finally snagged one where she lived.
One year the Furbie was the latest and greatest.  Cute little guys that slept and woke and talked and generally drove you batty.  It was a big hit for about a week and then the batteries were pulled and it was tossed in a storage bin.  Even the kids couldn't stand it.
This year the big draw is something called a Hatchimal.  Imagine my surprise to find it is nothing but a Furbie on steroids.  It comes in an egg that, with a little encouragement from your body heat, hatches into a Hartchimal.  You can then teach your Hatchimal to walk and talk and sing.  Like I said, a Furbie on steroids.  Two weeks after Christmas I can guarantee you'll be pulling the batteries out and crying 'uncle'.

Sunday, 20 November 2016

A Great Day

Yesterday was ONE of our TWO favourite days of the Christmas Season.  It was the day we take our Grandson (aka The Wee Man) out for his Christmas shopping.  His carefully hoarded allowance was counted and recounted and amounts allocated for spending on The Mama, The Other and The Sister.  Grandma and Grandpa provided the accoutrement's for wrapping; paper, tissue, ribbons, bows, tags and the all important tape.
We hit Canadian Tire for two of the items on his list and Wally Mart for the third.  It was 5 degrees and pouring down rain when we started out.  Amazingly we found parking spaces close to the stores so only a slight drenching was achieved.  I believe this is the first year that we haven't spent three quarters of our time looking at things HE would like to have (hint hint).
By the time we hit Williams for lunch it was 2 degrees and the rain seemed to be getting a little 'thicker' if you know what I mean.  The hubs and I had coffee and sesame tuna wraps, the wee man muscled up to the counter and requested a blt sandwich hold the lt add extra bacon and mayo on white bread not toasted.   The girl at the cash register had a jaw drop moment and then began sorting through his extremely explicit order.  He informed her that he wouldn't eat it if it wasn't right.  (He wouldn't, either, trust me).  Fortunately, she got it right.
When we left Williams it was one degree and what was coming down could no longer be referred to as rain whether thick or thin.  We eased our way over to our place for the next stage in the day which was the gift wrapping.  The wee man is getting much better at gift wrapping.  When we started this tradition he was just six and his idea of wrapping was to crumple paper around the item and then wrap tape around and around it.  Effective, but not pretty.  Over the last few years he has gradually, with a little assistance, improved his technique.  I was quite impressed.  He still likes a lot of tape though.
When all was completed and the gifts stored under the tree (Yes, the tree is up...don't judge me. ) the wee man had some time to dig out his Lego from the cupboard beside the couch and painstakingly put together all the pieces.  He then requested a photo shoot.
This year we have the second favourite day of the Christmas season as we introduce the grand daughter to thinking about others on Christmas and not just herself.  She is six.  She will start getting an allowance next year and will learn about saving some for the bank and some for Christmas and making those all important decisions about what to do with the remainder.  Exciting stuff.  This year, as we did for the wee man on his first trip, grandma and grandpa will absorb the shopping expense.  Naturally it will be a small budget.  I've been advised that she too likes a lot of tape.

Friday, 18 November 2016

Main Street Christmas






Things have certainly changed over the years.
We were (the hubs and I) reminiscing over lunch yesterday about Christmas gift shopping when we were kids.  We're talking main street Ontario here folks, no malls and no plazas back then.  Our Moms would take us downtown one evening about two weeks before Christmas to do our special gift shopping for Dads, siblings and grandparents.  We had a budget and we had a list.  Downtown, the stores would all be lit up and the sidewalks (usually snowy sidewalks with big fat flakes falling) would be crowded with people we knew, all out, doing their Christmas shopping.  As kids, we were impatient to get going and get those gifts and our Moms were all about the greeting of friends and long discussions while juvenile feet froze to the cement (or so it seemed to us).  The jewellery store would have a beautiful, seasonal clockwork display in the window and we would stand and admire it for several long minutes...sometimes more than once..  We didn't go in to the jewellery store because we didn't have that kind of cash.  The Christmas tree in the front window of the bank would be lit up (the bank however would have been closed at 3:00pm on a work day, don't even think about the weekends.  The butcher shop would be open and sometimes we would pop in if Mom needed something.  There was sawdust on the floor and sometimes the door to the big locker was open and you could catch a glimpse of half a hog hanging on a hook.   Mom might order her Christmas turkey if she hadn't already done so.
Our goal was the five and dime.  In Newmarket, if memory serves,  that was Woolworths.  It was a lovely old store with wide plank floors that gave underfoot and big tables in rows upon which wares were spread.  A few shelves on the walls (wood) and an older lady presiding over the cash register.  A quick check with the hubs revealed that we bought just about the same stuff for gifts....socks or cigars or hankies for the men (or perhaps pipe tobacco), hand lotion or bath cubes or nylons for the ladies.  It was so much fun to choose colours and fragrances, to hand over the cash ourselves and be given the change.  In our innocence we firmly believed that Mom had not noticed that bottle of hand lotion for her.  Jergens.  Remember Jergens?  The little pink bottle with the black cap?  When you were old enough to be given a bottle yourself you felt so grown up.
Even if you didn't need to go in to all the stores, you still promenaded up and down both sides of the street, looking in windows and following your Mom in while she did a little shopping herself.  The level of excitement was such that you positively ached with it.  Everything looked so much shinier, everything smelled so much better, everyone seemed so much friendlier.  You could smell Christmas.  In the darkness with the shop lights shining you could feel the mystery of Christmas.  The Salvation Army had two or three folks standing by a pail for donations and they were playing Christmas music.  It never sounded so good as it did outside on those frosty nights when you could see your breath.
Shopping for Christmas gifts was special in those days.   While I appreciate the warmth of the mall in my advancing age, I do sometimes yearn for that special night of shopping on main street Ontario.  I miss the simplicity of the gifts and the honest appreciation of the recipients.  I miss the innocence.

Thursday, 17 November 2016

Using Wednesdays Words (the unofficial version)

Wednesdays Words were:  adage, dominate, vestige, brokerage, vessel and insight....and/or....swing, brag, burst, bland, hoard and stem.  Of course these are not the official words....just mine as I tend to be somewhat impatient.
Here goes:

Nick put on a burst of speed and made a wide swing past the mail box.  He grinned.  "That should stem any more rumours that I'm getting too old for this job.  I don't like to brag Rudy but I think I'm as good, if not better than I ever was."
Rudy turned a bland eye toward him and snorted.
"Isn't that Holly waiting for us outside the shop?" Nick muttered.  "Just great, she'll be after me again to make changes.  Personally, I believe in the old adage, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'."
"Dad--Dad--over here!! "  Holly waived her arms and jumped up and down.  "You know, Dad, if you didn't insist on keeping this hoard of projects just inside the door of the shop you'd have room to pull right in.  So much easier to load and unload inside where it's warm."
"It's only once a year that I load and unload." Nick said.  "It's not really a problem."
"Dad, I've got such good ideas.  I wish you had just the vestige of some  insight to listen to them."
"All right daughter.  I know you want me to look into a new brokerage firm.  If I do that, will you give up on trying to talk me into a new vessel for shipments  You know I'm fond of the old crate I've been driving for the last, oh, how many years now sweetie? "
"At least 200 years Dad, at the very least.  Really, it is time to upgrade.  You could dominate the skies in a newer model.  Think jet powered.  Think sat nav.  Think heater for heavens sake. "
"My dear,  Rudy and his friends would be broken hearted if I went jet propelled.  I'll tell you what...I'll have the sat nav installed.  Would that satisfy you?"
Holly laughed.  "It's a start Dad, it's a start."

Wednesday, 16 November 2016

And Now....

 And now the OFFICIAL Words for Wednesday..... from    Carolyn McBride

starship, life, coma, fiction, unicorns, dogs, stroke and award. 

It's possible that this latest award winning piece of fiction is actually a stroke of genius spawned from a life time of living in a blue and purple bedroom decorated with unicorns, starships, dogs, kittens, flowers and all things adorable.  That room was enough to put Atilla the Hun into a sugar coma it was so darn sweet.

Words For Wednesday

It's Wednesday folks and no words have been provided for today so I shall fill the gap until they reappear.  Todays words are:
adage, dominate, vestige, brokerage, vessel and insight
and/or
swing, brag, burst, bland, hoard and stem

Have fun with these.  I'm off to make myself a new tinfoil thinking cap.

Tuesday, 15 November 2016

It Just Keeps Marching On

It's November 15.  Honestly.  The middle of November already.   My parents were right.  As you get older time passes faster.
You may think I'm insane (many do) but, I've got my Christmas decorating done.  Now wait...before you call the guys in the white coats to come get me....there is a reason for my madness.  You see, this weekend we take our grandson to do his Christmas gift shopping (we go early to beat the crowds) and I like to have the place all Christmassy for when he comes back to the house to do his gift wrapping.  We put the Christmas music on, we have treats and he wraps and uses up all my tape and has a wonderful time.  So you see, I'm not QUITE as nutty as you first thought.  Not quite.   But I am nuts.  And, because I can't resist needling you a tad, it's a little less than six weeks to Christmas.  Bye now.

Monday, 14 November 2016

A Visit To Osborne Cemetery




RESTORATION BY THE COUNCIL OF ERAMOSA TOWNSHIP 1964
WELLINGTON ROAD 44
JUST OUTSIDE OF EDEN MILLS ONTARIO


*please note this transcription is as good as my eyesight and some very blurred stones will allow..there can and will be mistakes”
BOTTOM ROW
STONE #1, In memory of
Ruth
Beloved wife of Andrew Laing
Who died 11th June 1872, a/e 27 years 8 months and 19? Days

STONE #2  Robt. Laing
Died July 16 1860, a/e 60 years 7 months
And, Adam, Son of the above
Died October 18 1858, a/e 33 years 7 months
 
STONE #3   In memory of
William Dredge, Died 22 May 1861, Age 68 years
Native of Yorkshire England
And,  Margaret Dredge, Died 27 May 1855
Aged       ?     years
And, Adam Dredge, Died 27 April 1865
Age 21 years

STONE #4

Children of
Nathan and Agnes Dredge
Nathaniel
Died Aug 18 `18-8?
6 years  ?  months
George
Died May 6 1858
Age 10 years
Ellen
Died Aug 22 18-8?
9 months
James
Died May 11 1858
3 yrs 10 months
Edward
Died May 12 185?
10 months
(There was an influenza epidemic in 1858)


STONE #5
In memory of, Nathan Dredge
Who died Mar 11? 1854
STONE #6
Helena
Daughter of ??unreadable
William ? Daniels
Died Aug 5 1879
STONE #7
Wm Osborn Sr
Died, October 16 1831
Age 32 years 7 months 3 days
Stone also includes the following:
Osborne Cemetery Restoration by the council of Eramosa Township 1964


STONE #8
Small, irregular, rough stone.  The inscription has been reduced to what looks like faint scratching.  Totally unreadable.  Might come up with a rubbing.


STONE #9, Mary  Aiken? Or Atkin?
 JohnDaniels, 1835 or 36? – 1927
STONE #10, Top section cannot be read
Bottom section reads
Also his wife, Cynthia Jane
Died, May 27 1896, Age 62 years
STONE #11
Unreadable
Cracked with sections missing
Hand and bible carving

STONE #12
In memory of Hannah
Wife of Robert Ramshaw
Who died
Jan’y 13 1861, 37 years 3 months 13 days
STONE #13
In memory of James
Son of Mary Ramshaw
Who died Dec 27 1871



THIS MARKS THE END OF THE BOTTOM ROW.

















James L,  Died May 18, 1881
Aged 10 years, 10 months, 11 days
And Thomas R, Died Oct 14, 1882
Aged 4 years, 5 months, 3 days
Children of Jas and Eliza Marks
In memory of Isabella
Wife of John Daniels
Died 10th September 1863, age 24 years

Emma C., died Mar 11, 1882
And Susannah J. Died .... 21, 1881
Aged 11 years, 1 month and 12 days
Children of Jas and Eliza Marks
In memory of Charlotte Burrows
Died Aug 12, 1880 age 29 years

                                                                                                                                                                
         

Matthew
Son of Henry S. Burrows
Died Sept ......................
Age 12 years .........months............days

Stone #6
Is a fragment
In memory of
Ann  S—un?








In memory of
Andrew Daniels
Who died February 6th, 1880
Age 39 years
In memory of George Edward
Son of Chas and Synthia Jane McMurray
Died Nov 30, 1871
Aged 19 ears 2 months 21 days


Children of Daniel and Martha Roberts
William, died Nov 21, 1856 age 22 days
And Mary died May 25 18-9, aged 1 year 6 months 13 days
In memory of Mary
Daughter of John and Catharine Ingle
Died Dec 15, 1865
Aged 23 years 7 months 10 days
In memory of Phillip Kribs who died
Dec 26, 1855  age 85 years, 1 month, 19 days
Also Nancy Ann his wife
Who died Jan 15 1849 age 76 years
Stone 12 is black slate
Very faint markings appear to be
................ Fletcher, died 1906 age 24

Stone 13 also black slate with faint markings
Could be died 1871 aged 24 years???

Stone 14
Unreadable



In memory of James Thomas
Son of Chas and Cynthia McMurray
Died 12th May 1867

Alice Mary
Daughter of Edward and Sarah Leybourne
Died July 17, 1871  2 years 4 months 22 days

Stone 17
Unreadable
In memory of Sarah
Beloved wife of George Easton
Died 23 March 1863  age 65 years 1 month 9 days
Native of Yorkshire England

Stone #19
Unreadable possibly “Ramshaw”





END OF MIDDLE ROW




















TOP ROW














Joseph E. E. VanNorman
Died April 18, 1900 age 48 yrs 9 months


In memory of
Annie M Ramshaw
Died July 31 1892
Aged 22 years 11 months
In memory of Abraham Osburn
Died July 22, 1888
Aged 70 years
Norman A Hulbert
Died July 2, 1904
8 years 3 months
At rest
Samuel Haggans
Died apr 25, 1890 age 44
And his wife Elizabeth Lyon
Died May 14, 1914 age 61
And Ettie M. Haggans
Died May 13, 1989
Michael Fletcher 1820-1912
Sarah Wilkinson his wife 1819-1904
William Henry their son 1845-1871
Elizabeth Mary their daughter 1858-1922



In memory of Mary Ann
Wife of Peter Sayers
Who died april 10th, 1886 aged 23 years
John Fletcher died 1877 age 55 years
His wife Frances Ann Weightman
Died May 7, 1896 age 74 years
Native of Nottingham, England
Their children Margaret, Sarah and Thomas
Died Feb 1863 ages 31, 29 and 18 years
And Michael Fletcher died Jan 2, 1912 age 90 years

Gavin McKersie born 1818 died 1911
And
His wife Louisa Reeve born 1821 died 1897

In memory of James Markes
1834 – 1925
A native of England
George Dredge who died Mar 27, 1907
Aged 78 years
Gone but not forgotten
And Rachel Wheeler his wife
Died Dec 25, 1926 aged 96 years


A Hopi Prayer by Mary E. Frye (slightly changed)

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet white doves in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there,I did not die.