Just click on his name above, and it will take you to a chapter in Google Books all about Thomas. It was written in 1889, while Thomas was still alive, so presumably, he had some editorial say as to accuracy.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Thomas H. Giles
Although Thomas Huskinson Giles isn't our direct ancestor, he is Frederick's brother. So the information in the link above is interesting. It describes how Thomas joined the church, and then brought it back home to his family, who also joined and traveled to Zion with him.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Schooley Girls
Grandma remembers her favorite grandmother, Jennie Schooley Clark, telling of her childhood and her sisters, Nettie, and Meda, Nanny, and Blanche. Jennie described their father as a harsh and rather unkind man, and when their mother died in childbirth with Helen, the family was devastated. Blanche was "adopted" by a family named Noble, but most of the girls had a struggle. Ephraim eventually remarried and had another child, but only Benjamin remained with him. The story below was told by Nettie to her oldest daughter, Wilma Hackley Hawley:
"Nettie Schooley was born in 1888 to Julia Bantam Schooley and Ephraim Schooley in Iola Kansas. She was the fifth child in the family of six. The first child was Benjamin, followed by Jennie, Blanche, Meda, Nettie, Nanny and Helen, who died at her birth along with their mother.
After their mother's death, homes had to be found for the children. Benjamin stayed with his father. The girls were mostly placed in homes where help was needed. Nettie was past the cute small child age, she was about eight years old, and not old enough to do real work. She became a kind of 'Little Orphan Annie,' looking after smaller children and doing menial chores. She lived with different families.
Finally, in her early teens she came to live with a young unmarried woman named Libby who owned a horse farm in Kansas. Libby became very fond of Nettie, and treated her very nicely. Although Nettie was expected to help, and follow certain rules, she was soon treated more like a daughter than hired help. Libby bought her the first really nice clothes that she had ever had. She had photos taken of her, and seemed very proud of her.
One afternoon when Nettie came home from school she saw a very handsome young man about to come through the garden gate that she was planning to enter. He graciously opened the gate for her and stood by as she went through. This young man was William Edgar Hackley. He had come to apply for the position of horse trainer and had been hired.
As time went on, Edgar was often invited to have dinner with Libby and Nettie. Of course he was there because of a mutual romantic interest between Libby and himself, but he always paid special attentiion to Nettie. He called her his little sweetheart and often gave her presents. Not realizing the reality of what was happening, she fell 'madly in love' with him. Her life became all that she had ever hoped for. She had a home, all the things that the other young people had, probably more--and she was in love!
One nice Sunday afternoon Libby asked Nettie if she would like to take a girl friend for a drive. She could have one of the fancy buggies and a special horse and did not need to be home until late afternoon. Would she ever?
She returned to find Libby and Edgar in the Parlor. That was a surprise, because the Parlor was only used for special occasions. Libby and Edgar were 'all smiles'. Libby said, 'Nettie sit down. I have something that I want to ask you. How would you like to have Edgar for your 'Daddy'?
As the significance of that question became clear Nettie's dream world began to crumble. As quickly as she could she excused herself and hurried to her special place in the hay mow in the barn. She cried and cried--but could only cry so long--because she had chores to do--and dinner to prepare. She dried her eyes--tried to make herself presentable, and climbed down to face the real world.
Edgar and Libby were married. Nettie's home was not the happy place that it had been. But she was growing up. Time has a way of making unhappy circumstances bearable, and life goes on.
Edgar and Libby had not been married very long--maybe two or three years when Libby died suddenly of a stomach ailment, probably appendicitis.
Edgar was eleven years older than Nettie but after a time he began courting Nettie. He won her heart and her hand--but the magic was gone. Nettie and Edgar had three children. Wilma Hackley Hawley, born Dec 3, 1909. Fern Helen Hacklely Sceales, born Nov 26, 1912, William Edgar Hackley Jr. born Mar 8, 1916.
Nettie passed away at age 39, in 1927
Edgar passed away at age 58, in 1929. Dates taken from data of Nettie,
Fern Hackley Sceales."
"Nettie Schooley was born in 1888 to Julia Bantam Schooley and Ephraim Schooley in Iola Kansas. She was the fifth child in the family of six. The first child was Benjamin, followed by Jennie, Blanche, Meda, Nettie, Nanny and Helen, who died at her birth along with their mother.
After their mother's death, homes had to be found for the children. Benjamin stayed with his father. The girls were mostly placed in homes where help was needed. Nettie was past the cute small child age, she was about eight years old, and not old enough to do real work. She became a kind of 'Little Orphan Annie,' looking after smaller children and doing menial chores. She lived with different families.
Finally, in her early teens she came to live with a young unmarried woman named Libby who owned a horse farm in Kansas. Libby became very fond of Nettie, and treated her very nicely. Although Nettie was expected to help, and follow certain rules, she was soon treated more like a daughter than hired help. Libby bought her the first really nice clothes that she had ever had. She had photos taken of her, and seemed very proud of her.
One afternoon when Nettie came home from school she saw a very handsome young man about to come through the garden gate that she was planning to enter. He graciously opened the gate for her and stood by as she went through. This young man was William Edgar Hackley. He had come to apply for the position of horse trainer and had been hired.
As time went on, Edgar was often invited to have dinner with Libby and Nettie. Of course he was there because of a mutual romantic interest between Libby and himself, but he always paid special attentiion to Nettie. He called her his little sweetheart and often gave her presents. Not realizing the reality of what was happening, she fell 'madly in love' with him. Her life became all that she had ever hoped for. She had a home, all the things that the other young people had, probably more--and she was in love!
One nice Sunday afternoon Libby asked Nettie if she would like to take a girl friend for a drive. She could have one of the fancy buggies and a special horse and did not need to be home until late afternoon. Would she ever?
She returned to find Libby and Edgar in the Parlor. That was a surprise, because the Parlor was only used for special occasions. Libby and Edgar were 'all smiles'. Libby said, 'Nettie sit down. I have something that I want to ask you. How would you like to have Edgar for your 'Daddy'?
As the significance of that question became clear Nettie's dream world began to crumble. As quickly as she could she excused herself and hurried to her special place in the hay mow in the barn. She cried and cried--but could only cry so long--because she had chores to do--and dinner to prepare. She dried her eyes--tried to make herself presentable, and climbed down to face the real world.
Edgar and Libby were married. Nettie's home was not the happy place that it had been. But she was growing up. Time has a way of making unhappy circumstances bearable, and life goes on.
Edgar and Libby had not been married very long--maybe two or three years when Libby died suddenly of a stomach ailment, probably appendicitis.
Edgar was eleven years older than Nettie but after a time he began courting Nettie. He won her heart and her hand--but the magic was gone. Nettie and Edgar had three children. Wilma Hackley Hawley, born Dec 3, 1909. Fern Helen Hacklely Sceales, born Nov 26, 1912, William Edgar Hackley Jr. born Mar 8, 1916.
Nettie passed away at age 39, in 1927
Edgar passed away at age 58, in 1929. Dates taken from data of Nettie,
Fern Hackley Sceales."
Mads Frederock Theobald Christensen
If you click on the link below, you'll be linked to a website with his journal. Mads was Nana's grandfather, and the brother of CCA Christensen--the painter. His mother, Dorothea, was so poor that she had to put her boys in an orphanage. In the journal, Mads tells about living in the orphanage, being apprenticed to an abusive master, joining the Church and his journey to Zion. Might be a good family night story!
If you are interested in exploring the website further, it's linked to LDS.org and has lots of journals from many of the pioneers. James Sanderson, Nana's other grandfather, is listed and it mentions his experience with the Mormon Battalion, but his journal isn't included. One of these days I'll try to get it scanned and posted here.
Note: Dorothea is buried in the SLC Pioneer Cemetery, listed only as "A Danish Woman.
"http://heritage.uen.org/companies/Wc26ba8c3baa32.htm
Saturday, July 9, 2011
At 85--What's Left?
The following reflection was written by Grampa Bruce today. He said I could share it with the family. I've kept his punctuation and formatting.
I did a little math and found out this birthday is number 85. All this past year I have said I was old and 82. That is my reason for things I cannot do. Somehow I lost 3 years. That’s ok because now I can do things at 85 that I could last week at 82!
I reflect on what I have learned in 85 years—it really doesn’t seem like such a long time. I don’t remember the first few years—Monrovia, Indianola, Salt lake. But I begin to have clarity of events the hospital—Palms—Utah—school in Fairview—taking care of my sister in her time of need. My grandfather and grandmother are clear—and with my always. She telling me to “show a little brass, boy! Speak up.” J.W. showing me how to work and keep going. My cousins in Fairview were like brothers—they showed me country stuff—I told them about airplanes and Hollywood.
My time in different schools, work, etc. Boys’ Market and time in the Navy—my friendship with Paul, Bill, trips with them to Big Bear—all are catalogued like they just happened.
My most beloved companion, Pat, as part of my life is not visible, but with me every day since she said we would wed—and she made me much better than I was.
I suppose we had ups and downs, but they have faded from memory. I remember the joy we had with a family of great kids. Why those special people were given to us, I do not know, only that we were blessed with what the Lord had sent. I am convinced of the gospel—and try to abide the principles—but these four children are my greatest blessing and we are thankful for them. Pat and I often together counted our blessings—and thanked the Lord for them.
It doesn’t seem long ago—so many things have happened—but it was. It has been said that crisis + time = humor. It must be so—I forget the big problems. The world is a mess. People are mixed up—afraid—greedy. All would be so simple if they followed God’s plan. Happiness is there, not hard to find. Sort out the good—throw out the bad. It’s so much easier a way to live. We have within us the freedom of choice. We are all God’s children.
85 isn’t all bad—we just go slower.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Grandma Mary
I thought maybe I should post my own memories of my Great-grandmother, Mary Howell. I was very young when she died, so there's not much, but Nancee and I are the only ones in the family who may still have a memory of her.
She was Donnie's mother and lived in the big house that we used to have a doll-house replica of. She lived on the "ground floor"--even though it required going up several steps to get the the wide old-fashioned porch to get to it. The house itself was surrounded by large trees of many varieties. Grandma Pat always said that her grandfather, Ernest Frederick Howell, had come from England with a love of gardening and planted everything he could find, and that he had quite a few rather unusual specimens. Mom always said that my love of gardening must have come through from him. He also owned a general mercantile store in the Highland Park area that was fairly well-known for several years. He had a reputation as being stern with the children, but he died long before I was born, so I never met him.
Mary was the opposite. I remember going to the house and being sucked into the warm, old-lady smell of it, and then wrapped up in Grandma Mary's ample bosom as she hugged us each. I don't remember her as being very tall, and since I was only about 5, she may well have been on the short side. I seem to remember her with grey/white hair in an old-fashioned bun on the back of her head, and I think of her with floral prints, and she was soft and loving. It seems she had a piano in a small, parlor-like room, but I don't remember her playing it. It was a treat to go and we didn't do it very often, but there wasn't much to do in the house, and she didn't like us to be noisy. So mostly we headed outside to run around the back yard and explore the basement--which was full of all kinds of junk and antiques. No one then thought there was much difference! The one treasure I had been promised when she died was an old wind-up Victrola in a tall cabinet--just like in old movies. I believe it even played, and there was a stack of records. We were each to choose one thing we wanted from the basement as a memento, and that was mine. But when the house sold, the Victrola went with it. I doubt if Donnie remembered my request, or perhaps never knew about it--I was rather timid about stating what I wanted in those days. Ah well.
I remember going there once when I was about 5 and Nancee would have been about 3, to spend a few days with Ray and Donnie, who lived in the upstairs floor. I don't remember a lot of communication between the two families--I'm not sure my grandfather got along real well with his mother-in-law. But there was a stairwell at the back of the house that went between the two floors--from kitchen to kitchen that was fun to explore. It did feel like exploring since I was there so seldom; I wasn't particularly comfortable in the house and it all seemed strange everytime. About all I remember of that trip is a big soft bed in a bedroom that faced the front street and taking a trip on the freeway-probably to go back home--and seeing the Oscar Meyer Weiner Wagon on the freeway, going the other direction.
Many of the old antiquey things I have around my house came from that house when Mary died. In Mom's cedar chest is an ancient black mantilla that she has had since I was very young, and she said came from that family--for which she had no explanation except that "in the old days women covered their heads in church." But I don't believe anyone was Catholic, so I don't know where it would have come from. There is also a set of ivory dressing table items. There's a button hook, a powder holder, a brush and several other functional pieces. Also the brass teapot and the little table in the family came from Mary's house.
As I said, there aren't a lot of memories of Mary, but Mom loved the old house and growing up there with her older cousins, Bill and Dick. She had lots of stories--some of which ended up in Tag's Journal--her legacy to all of us.
She was Donnie's mother and lived in the big house that we used to have a doll-house replica of. She lived on the "ground floor"--even though it required going up several steps to get the the wide old-fashioned porch to get to it. The house itself was surrounded by large trees of many varieties. Grandma Pat always said that her grandfather, Ernest Frederick Howell, had come from England with a love of gardening and planted everything he could find, and that he had quite a few rather unusual specimens. Mom always said that my love of gardening must have come through from him. He also owned a general mercantile store in the Highland Park area that was fairly well-known for several years. He had a reputation as being stern with the children, but he died long before I was born, so I never met him.
Mary was the opposite. I remember going to the house and being sucked into the warm, old-lady smell of it, and then wrapped up in Grandma Mary's ample bosom as she hugged us each. I don't remember her as being very tall, and since I was only about 5, she may well have been on the short side. I seem to remember her with grey/white hair in an old-fashioned bun on the back of her head, and I think of her with floral prints, and she was soft and loving. It seems she had a piano in a small, parlor-like room, but I don't remember her playing it. It was a treat to go and we didn't do it very often, but there wasn't much to do in the house, and she didn't like us to be noisy. So mostly we headed outside to run around the back yard and explore the basement--which was full of all kinds of junk and antiques. No one then thought there was much difference! The one treasure I had been promised when she died was an old wind-up Victrola in a tall cabinet--just like in old movies. I believe it even played, and there was a stack of records. We were each to choose one thing we wanted from the basement as a memento, and that was mine. But when the house sold, the Victrola went with it. I doubt if Donnie remembered my request, or perhaps never knew about it--I was rather timid about stating what I wanted in those days. Ah well.
I remember going there once when I was about 5 and Nancee would have been about 3, to spend a few days with Ray and Donnie, who lived in the upstairs floor. I don't remember a lot of communication between the two families--I'm not sure my grandfather got along real well with his mother-in-law. But there was a stairwell at the back of the house that went between the two floors--from kitchen to kitchen that was fun to explore. It did feel like exploring since I was there so seldom; I wasn't particularly comfortable in the house and it all seemed strange everytime. About all I remember of that trip is a big soft bed in a bedroom that faced the front street and taking a trip on the freeway-probably to go back home--and seeing the Oscar Meyer Weiner Wagon on the freeway, going the other direction.
Many of the old antiquey things I have around my house came from that house when Mary died. In Mom's cedar chest is an ancient black mantilla that she has had since I was very young, and she said came from that family--for which she had no explanation except that "in the old days women covered their heads in church." But I don't believe anyone was Catholic, so I don't know where it would have come from. There is also a set of ivory dressing table items. There's a button hook, a powder holder, a brush and several other functional pieces. Also the brass teapot and the little table in the family came from Mary's house.
As I said, there aren't a lot of memories of Mary, but Mom loved the old house and growing up there with her older cousins, Bill and Dick. She had lots of stories--some of which ended up in Tag's Journal--her legacy to all of us.
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