CONTENTMENT by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

Let those complain who never knew,

                The charm of bird and tree and flower,

Let those complain of weariness,

                Who never sat ‘neath leafy bower,

But I as long as life shall last,

                Can never weary grow,

While Trees and green and flowers bloom,

                And birds can warble so.

 

Let those complain who never heard,

                The tinkle tinkle of a brook,

Nor set beside a silvery stream,

                With rod and line and hook,

For I am happy just to live,

                In this free land of ours,

With tinkling brooks and silver streams,

                And birds and trees and flowers.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard

AMANDA by Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

The soft breeze played across the brow of Amanda young and fair –

She dreamed a dream of her life to come and the joys of life she’d share.

The years went by and with marriage, came a family of her own –

To this world she gave three daughters and two sons,

Her heart has known the sadness of losing her first mate –

But she had the courage to carry on with her unfaltering faith.

Her family raised to grown-ups have all made homes of their own.

Her descendants now   are many – thirty is the sum.

Amanda, she is old now – the dark tendrils, they are grey.

But those playful Ozark breezes find her heart and smile still young and gay,

Her footsteps are not so springy as they were in yesteryear –

But her voice is still happily singing and to me her tone is so dear.

You see I love Amanda dearly – she’s my grandmother you know –

And I ponder oh, so deeply, when the soft breezes blow –

That breeze that just now brushed my cheek – I wonder – could it be –

That first it kissed my Grandma’s face and then came on to me.

 

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

April 23, 1963

Written for her Grandmother Amanda Elizabeth Morris

 

Copyright Roy Richard

BY THE SEA by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

There’s a land where the sunshine is brightest,

                A land where the ocean is wide

A land where the salt air is purest,

                Wafted in on each murmuring tide.

Where the nights are a glory of moonlight.

                And the sunsets no artist can paint,

There’s a whisper of nearness to heaven,

                Like the soft spoken prayer of a saint.

 

Oh, I want to go back to its beauty,

                And live where the palms wave and sigh,

To lie where the ocean is bluest,

                And list to the sea bird’s lone cry,

Where flowers are bloomin in winter,

                And all the land is a ’thrill,

Where beauty makes it worth the living,

                Oh I want to be there, and I will.

 

Where the mocking bird sings to the sunrise,

                A sermon in songs of delight,

Where stars like millions of lanterns,

                Are hung in the temple of night,

In the Halifax land by the ocean,

                Where the air is all fragrant with dew,

Where the sun is a little more golden,

                And the sky a little more blue

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

May 1932

 

Copyright Roy Richard

A MARINE! by Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

I first looked upon the casket, silver gray and oh! So still –

Then I saw “OLD GLORY” and my eyes began to fill.

For above this silver casket in a frame of softest gold –

Was the smiling lad who lies here – who is now so quiet and cold.

Then my eyes moved on oh so slowly to the boy who gave his all.

I find him fair and handsome and I’m sure he stood quite tall,

Then his mother walked up to him and she gently stroked his hair –

And I’m sure the grief she’s feeling is so awfully hard to bear.

She must be living out a lifetime as she stands there looking on –

Her firstborn child – so young – so gay – her own marine. Her son.

She must see again a toddler – who can hardly walk as best –

She must think of all his illnesses and how she’d be upset.

She must be thinking of the last time he smiled and looked her way –

That would be when he left to serve – a sad and gloomy day.

For that day a question was within her heart and mind –

Oh God! Will he come home again – this precious Son of mine?

Then came the news so dreaded – heartbreaking was this day.

She hadn’t known how great this grief on the day he went away.

I do not know this boy before me – but my sadness is sincere –

And I tremble deep within myself and am haunted with great fear.

For all the young men fighting – wherever they may be –

Remembering that the cost is great – that they pay humanity.

I cannot help but have great feeling for the wounded and those who die –

Though I know them not – I’M SORRY – for the price they have paid is so high.

 

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

 

Copyright Roy Richard

BE STRONG by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Be strong, let nothing disturb you,

Talk health to each person you meet,

Let your friends know you love them and trust them,

Whenever, wherever you meet,

Look to the sunny side ever,

Knowing your dreams will come true,

See success for the ones all around you,

As well as success just for you.

 

Forget past mistakes, and push forward,

To greater achievements worthwhile,

Be cheerful, be strong and be kindly,

To all whom you meet give a smile,

Be too large to fret or worry,

To noble for anger or strife,

Think well of yourself and proclaim it,

In deeds that will brighten some life.

 

Never criticize, never be selfish,

Think thought that your inner eye see,

Think harmony, health, wealth and wisdom,

It is what He would have us to be,

Just live in the faith, the world needs you,

It’s on your side so long as you’re true,

Then you’ve lived to the nest that is in you,

When you’ve done the best you could do.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

May 1, 1932

 

Copyright Roy Richard

GRACE WHERE THE HELL ARE MY GLASSES by Roy Richard

Never got to “KNOW” this man,

                Mother’s father.

One time coal miner, blaster,

                Turned auto assembly line worker.

 

Union militant, enforcer,

                Quick to violence,

Beer swelling, whiskey consuming,

                Hunter, angler.

 

He left the coal mines in Pennsylvania,

                An explosive expert,

A mine accident left him unable to work,

So he brought his family to Michigan for work.

               

Now this is the story I’ve been told,

                But I remember no disfigurement; old photos show no trace of pain,

So I ask myself “Why did he leave that land?”

Was there scandal or shame? Guess I’ll never know.

 

He died just after I turned five.

                And only two memories of him survive,

Buried in the recesses of my mind,

No hugs or love or soft spoken words, only these two.

 

I was sitting by his chair playing,

                He was seated, reclining.

Hams beer on the table,

                Newspaper in hand.

 

His glasses shoved up on his forehead.

                When suddenly the silence was broken,

“Grace where the hell are my glasses?”

                I ran crying to find my mother.

 

I was told that he died, had gone away.

                Of course I didn’t understand, only a child of five,

So I pulled a chair to the coffin, to look down on him,

                Only these two memories survive.

 

I have heard stories and tales,

                His favorite pointer was bred by a mutt,

The puppies were placed into a sack,

                Tossed into a rain barrel to drown.

 

When a dog would “no longer hunt”,

                He shot them dead in the woods,

What good is a dog that won’t hunt?

                Not worth the food to keep them alive.

 

Enforcing his caucus in the union.

                Strong arming a vote,

Breaking the legs of a vocal dissident,

                Support his cause or else.

 

A son injured in a sledding accident,

                Almost scalping himself,

Can’t waste the money on a doctor or medical care,

                Held him down and sowed it back in place,

               

A son who wouldn’t leave the other boys “alone” at night,

                He would tie his hands behind back and make him sleep like that

Missed my parents wedding because of work,

                Trying and (failing) to outdrink my Dad,

 

Like I said I never “KNEW” him,

                These are the tales I was told,

Funny though how no one spoke good things,

                Of their father, grandfather, brother.

 

Suddenly after all these years,

                He begins to haunt me,

I wish he would go away,

                He still scares me.

 

Roy Richard

September 2022

 

Copyright Roy Richard

A CONFIRMATION NOTE TO A LITTLE GIRL I SPONSERED by Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

May your life be rich in blessings –

Your heart be full of love –

Your acts always reflect beauty and honesty –

Your faith in God be endless –

And as your future unfolds –

Mold it in the likeness of a rose –

Remembering always –

                                Few roses are perfect –

                                But all are beautiful.

 

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

 

Copyright Roy Richard

BACK TO THE FARM by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

You may talk about your city,

                With its hurry, strife and noise,

Its great white ways and theatres,

                Its social life and joys.

The place you dine, the temple grand,

                The club you proudly boast,

The hurry and confusion,

                And the things you like the most.

 

But I am here to tell you,

                If you want to taste real charm,

Just turn you back on cities,

                Make a visit to the farm,

Why you’re going to have the pleasure,

                Where ever it may be,

Of knowing real enjoyment,

                And hospitality.

 

You’re going to get a welcome,

                And a handclasp that is true,

Not weighted by clothes nor money,

                Nor the kind of work you do,

But a real old-fashioned greeting,

                Full of pleasure and food fare,

That will thrill you o’er and o’er,

                The while you visit there.

 

You’re going to know the gladness,

                Of a real old-fashioned rest,

And taste the old-time cooking,

                That you used to like the best,

The chicken fried in golden brown,

                With biscuits light and neat,

A swimming in the gravy,

                That no city chef can beat.

 

With golden corn, right on the ear,

                And early fresh green peas,

Potatoes in a snowy heap.

                And honey made from bees.

A welcome that renews your years,

                With its simple grace and charm,

If you want to taste these pleasures,

                Make a visit to the farm.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard

40 by Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

 

Oh say can “Thou” see what has happened to “Thee”?

Why, just overnight – it has happened – Oh me!

I can’t understand “Thy” thinning hair –

And it seems “thy” waistline has drifted somewhere.

Now yesterday “Thou” was dapper and sporty!

Is this what happens when “Thy” turns 40?

 

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

Written for Howard Bishop on his 40^th birthday

 

Copyright Roy Richard

AUTUMN by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Oh, Autumn, in gorgeous raiment,

                What artist is the blame?

He has daubled his colors here and there,

                In one great glory of color and prayer,

Till the woods are all aflame.

 

There are browns and deepest crimsons,

                Orange and sunny tans,

Scarlet and dim old yellows,

                Done by a Master’s hand,

It is spread for eyes to feast on,

                And it helps to understand.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

October 1915

 

Copyright Roy Richard

40? by Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

Sweet “16” – long time gone –

“21” – has rolled along –

“29” – well, it’s gone too –

Though we’re not late models, we’re good as new,

The chassis, she ain’t what she once was I know –

But at times she can really get up and go.

A look to the future – what’s in store?

They say “40” is better than what’s been before!

So thinking back on the things we have done –

If “40” is better, we’re just getting ready to run,

By the looks of us now, as “40” draws near –

Who knows what happens in our “80^th” year!

                Cheer up!

 

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

Written for Geneva Mosbey on her 40^th birthday.

 

Copyright Roy Richard

AUNT MARY’S VISIT by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

She came to visit us at last,

                Aunt Mary sweet and dear,

How we planned to make her stay,

                A time of joy and cheer.

 

The sky was blue with, fleecy clouds,

                The bird sang loud and clear,

As if to tell Aunt Mary,

                They were happy she was here.

 

She came from out the golden west,

                Back to her girlhood home,

Once again to see the hills,

                And o’er the fields to roam,

 

To meet and greet the loved ones,

                And renew old friendships o’er,

To clasp their hands in greetings,

                As in olden days of yore.

 

Dear Aunt Mary,

                How we love her,

How we’ll miss her smile and cheer,

                How we wish that we might keep her,

Always hold her with us here.

 

For we need her wit and laughter,

                We need her understanding heart,

If we could we would not let her,

                From our home or life depart.

 

And the lessons which she taught us,

                Of patience, faith and love,

Shall be a beacon light to us,

                When she shall rest above.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

August 12, 1931

 

Copyright Roy Richard   

MARYLAND CONNECTION Part 3 (My 6th Great-grandparents)

 

My oldest granddaughter recently started attending Notre Dame University of Maryland in Baltimore. Most of our family research has centered around Missouri and parts south, but just before my sister Sula passed she found the proof of the missing link in the Richard family. That of Edward Richards (1678-1755). He came from England and lived in Baltimore for a time.

John Richards

Mary Kidder                       Edward Richards              

William Head                                                                      Benjamin Richards

Ann Bigger                          Mary Head

 

Charles Merryman Sr

Mary Haile                          Charles Merryman Jr     

Thomas Long                                                                     Ann Merryman

Jane Peake                                         Jane Long           

               

6^th Great-grandparents

Benjamin Richards

BIRTH: 1710, Baltimore County, Maryland, USA

DEATH: unknown, Franklin County, Virginia, USA

BURIAL: Richards Cemetery, Callaway, Franklin County, Virginia, USA

MARYLAND ROOTS

• Benjamin was the first-born son of Edward Richards [1678] and Mary Head [1690]. His birth was recorded in St. Paul's Parish of Baltimore County MD. Benjamin first lived in the Dorchester County area on the east side of Chesapeake Bay.
• In 1729 Benjamin's father, Edward, sold property he owned in Dorchester County and prepared to move his family. They settled, perhaps late in 1729, and associated with the Gunpowder Meeting of Quakers north of Baltimore [in present-day Cockeysville]. In 1730 Benjamin had a tract named "Spring Garden" surveyed for future purchase according to Maryland Land records. This was probably the year he married Ann.

MARRIAGE

• Benjamin married Ann Merryman [1711], the daughter of Charles Merryman Jr. [1680-1722] and Jane Long [1675-1739],
• though the exact date is unknown to me. They had the following children:

1. Edward [25 June 1731] MD

2. Ruth [27 April 1733] MD

3. Charles [23 Feb 1747] MD

4. unknown daughter

5. unknown daughter

• In January of 1737, Benjamin purchased the 50 acre tract "Spring Garden" [see record at upper left].
• From a document describing the Hampstead Historical District for the Maryland Historical Trust:
• "The first land to be owned by a white man in the present Hampstead District was surveyed on January 5, 1737 for Benjamin Richards and patented to him on February 7, 1738 for 50 acres."
• Then, by 1739, both Benjamin and father Edward moved onto their properties "Spring Garden" and "Rattlesnake Ridge" that would grow into, first, a wagon stop named Spring Garden, and then the town of Hampstead MD, in what is present Carroll County. They, along with Isaac Wright, founded a Quaker Meeting there.

MOVE TO VIRGINIA

• Benjamin sold "Spring Garden" to William Stiles in April of 1750 in preparation for moving his family. The Edward Richards Bible records: "April the 27 1750 Benjamin Richards took his journey with all his family to go to Stanton River in Virginia with his wife and two sons and three daughters. And Dickey boys."
• Benjamin and his son Edward Richards [1731] appear on the 1750 tax records of old Lunenburg County Virginia.
• Benjamin [47 yrs. old] and son Edward [27 yrs. old] appear on the Settler's map of Franklin County. Benjamin was designated as living "below 5 mile mountain". The location is approximately 12 miles due west of Rocky Mount VA [about 3 miles south west of Callaway VA]. Edward's property was about 6 miles south of Rocky Mount.

TAX ROLLS

• 1799 and 1800 Tax rolls of Franklin County VA still have Benjamin Richards listed, along with son Edward 69 yrs. old, grandsons Shadrack 40 yrs. old and Waitman 35 yrs. old. Benjamin would have been 90 years old.

RICHARDS CEMETERY

• There is a Richards cemetery that coincides with the "below 5 mile mountain" description of Benjamin's homestead [Google search locates it there], and though the stones are buried or lost [as told to me by a local resident]; I believe he and other family are buried there.
• Anyone viewing this memorial with further information on Benjamin or his descendants are invited to contact me. HGR---a grateful descendant.

LINEAGE:

• Edward Richards [1678] Manchester, Lancashire England/MD

 

Ann Merryman Richards

BIRTH: 1711, Maryland, USA

DEATH: unknown, Franklin County, Virginia, USA

BURIAL: Richards Cemetery, Callaway, Franklin County, Virginia, USA

• Ann was the daughter of Charles Merryman Jr [1680-1722] and Jane Long [1675-1739], who were married June 24 1702, Baltimore County, Maryland.
• She married Benjamin Richards [1710] MD, probably circa 1730 in old Baltimore County Maryland in the town of Hampstead.

Their children were:

1. Edward [1731] MD

2. Ruth [27 April 1733] MD

3. Charles [23 Feb 1747] MD

• [Ann's father-in-law, Edward Richards [1678-1755]; recorded in his Bible that there were other children born to Benjamin and Ann--though their names were not given.]

Ann's father's estate:

• Charles Merryman 17.187 A BA £86.15.7 Aug 3 1739
• Payments to: William Hall who married a daughter (unnamed, her portion), Benjamin Richards who married a daughter (unnamed, her portion), Joseph Cross who married a daughter (unnamed, her portion), Charles Merryman (son, his portion), Jemima Merryman (daughter, her portion), Ketdemie Merryman (daughter, her portion), accountant (1/3).
• Executrix: Jane Knight, wife of Benjamin Knight.
• Benjamin and Ann removed their family into Virginia in 1750, where Benjamin & son Edward appeared on the tax roll. By 1755 they had moved into newly forming Franklin County VA, where they settled to the end or their lives. Son Edward became a prominent plantation owner and livestock breeder just a few miles south east of Rocky Mount in Franklin County.

NOTE: [Burials in the "Richards" cemetery are speculative. The cemetery stones are lost to time, and only the location is known. Please contact me if you have information that would be helpful.]

LINEAGE:

• Charles Merryman Jr. [1680] Lancaster Co VA
• Charles Merryman Sr. [1655] Lancaster Co VA

Thank you Harold Richard for your work on this

Copyright Roy Richard

AUNT FANNIE by Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

 

Now you’re my aunt and you’re full of fun --

When I’ve run down, you’ve just begun

There are many tales you’ve told to me --

And they’re filled away in memory.

When I would visit you as a child

The stories you told me were far from mild.

Each night when we would go out to “wee”—

This is what you would say to me –

“It’s dark outside and in the woods –

Is a man who gets girls and boys who aren’t good.

He carries a bag upon his back and walks among the farms –

Inside that bag are the girls and boys, and he’s cut off their legs and arms”.

Many, many years ago I went home with you –

When dark came I got lonesome and was feeling blue.

I asked you to take me home – I promised to walk all the way –

But you said no, we’d have to pass the cemetery, and the dead would be sitting on their graves

One day in California, when my birthday rolled around –

You gave me a gift, it was socks for Joe, and I threw them on the ground.

My Mom and I went home one day and found a man in bed –

To our relief, it was one of your pranks, it was a “dummy” instead.

I always liked to visit you and go swimming in the creek –

Until the day I went home from your house with poison ivy on both bottom cheeks.

Even throughout my life, you’ve scared me out of my wits –

I wouldn’t trade these memories for a billion times “two-bits”.

You’re really worth your weight in gold, and that’s a fact “by-granny” –

For in all this world there is no match for that Aunt of mine called Fannie.

 

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

Written for Aunt Fannie Morris who tormented and teased constantly.

 

Copyright Roy Richard

AMANDA HOOKER by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Nigh forty years have passed me by, I,

                                poor Amanda Hooker.                                                    

When I was young, the boys all said

                                “Amanda, is some looker.”

But all the men have passed me by,

Dear Sisters, can you tell me why?

 

I’ve read all the books on wedded bliss, just

                                how to hold their hands and kiss,

I’ve learned to cook and keep a home and

                                never from my fireside roam.

By winnin’ smiles and bashful look.

I’ve done my best, a man to hook.

 

I’ve always tried to do my duty, bought

                                creams to make myself a beauty.

I’ve spent a mint of hard earned money and

                                seems to me its mighty funny.

For after this long race I’ve ran,

I never yet have hooked a man.

 

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard