THE OLD TIME SATURDAY NIGHT by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

On Saturday night at our house,

                We hurry through our tea,

It isn’t now the quiet meal that once it used to be.

                The family never gather round the fireside blazing bright,

Like once they did some years ago, on every Saturday night.

 

My sister Sue is all tagged out right in her Sunday best,

                And Ma she hurries through the meal to get us kiddies dressed,

And we are told to hustle if we intend to go,

                And be on time at seven sharp, for Haskins Movie Show,

 

At last the house is quiet and Ma says, “Well they’re away.”

                Then she sighs and looks quite pensive, says, “It’s been a weary day?”

Pa saunters round the room a spell and then he says quite low,

                “Well, what we goin’ to do tonight, take in a movie show?”

 

Ma’s face is wreathed in smiles and she hurries to get dressed,

                Says, “She won’t be a minute,” and she hurries the rest.

It takes some cash, I’ll tell the world, to keep us on the go,

                For Saturday night there’s ten of us at Haskins Movie Show.

 

Well Saturday night it seems to me is different as can be.

                Once neighbors called to spend the eve directly after tea.

They played some dominos or chess, relaxed from work and care,

                But now they never call at all, because no one is there.

 

Pa says, "He thinks Jim Haskins must be a millionaire”,

                For every time our family go, most half the town is there.

I wish we had a home once more with cheery fires bright,

                And neighbors dropping to chat, with us on Saturday night.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

January 21, 1928

 

Copyright Roy Richard

MARYLAND CONNECTION Part 1 (My 8th 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           

               

MARYLAND CONNECTION - 8^th Great-grandparents

John Richards

BORN: 1650, Manchester, Lancashire, England

DEATH:

BURIAL:

Mary Kidder Richards

BORN: 1650, Lancashire, England

DEATH:

BURIAL:

 

William Head II

BORN: 1660, Calvert, Maryland, USA

DEATH: 14 Jun 1718, Maryland, USA

BURIAL:

Ann Bigger Head

BORN: 1676, Calvert, Maryland, USA

DEATH: 1721, Prince George's, Maryland, USA

BURIAL:

 

Capt Charles Merryman Sr.

BIRTH: 1655, Lancaster County, Virginia, USA

DEATH: 22 Dec 1724 (aged 68–69), Baltimore County, Maryland, USA

BURIAL: Old Saint Pauls Cemetery, Baltimore, Baltimore City, Maryland, USA

• Charles was the husband of Mary Haile Merryman 1659-1709
• Also husband of Mary Matson
• Daughter Elizabeth Merryman born abt 1702
• He was the son of John Merryman and Audrey Merryman
• He was Captain of the Militia in 1696 (Ref: Maryland archives, vol 30, page 544)
• Will of Charles Merryman
• 16 Jan 1724 Probated 14 Jan 1725
• Baltimore Co. MD
• SLC Family History Microfilm 0012847 Probate Records of MD Vol 17-18 1721-1726

(Find A Grave https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/29969022/charles-merryman)

Mary Haile Merryman

BIRTH: 1652, York, Virginina

DEATH: 12-22-1709, Baltimore, Maryland

BURIAL:

 

Thomas Long

BORN: 1654, London, England

DEATH: Sept. 1691, Baltimore, Maryland

BURIAL:

 

Jane Peake Long

BIRTH:

DEATH:

BURIAL:

 

Copyright Roy Richard

25 YEARS by Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

 

The hotdogs we’ve served, we’d oft’ like know –

If put end to end, just how far they would go.

And the hamburgers we’ve fixed, you’ve consumed near and far –

If stacked on each other would reach for the stars.

Take the chili and the soup we’ve prepared with such ease –

If all poured together ‘twould make quite a sea.

If we’d then add the drinks, we have a good notion –

That sea would quickly become an ocean.

For twenty-five years, this had been our line.

Hasn’t all been easy and sublime.

If we sometimes seem grumpy, well you might too –

If, every day, you did what we do.

We fret if the cows were milked too late –

That one of customers had to wait.

And if our buns aren’t up to par –

Well, we’re not happy unless you are.

We’ve watched the neighborhood kids grow up –

We oft’ have time to sit and “sup”.

We spend many hours with “youth” every day –

While the mirror says ours is fading away.

But the age that is written across our face –

Are lines of expression, you’d know anyplace.

For the unlined brow and the uncrinkled eye –

Have let the joys of life slip by.

They haven’t laughed or shed the tears –

That show you’ve really lived your years.

So, Cheers to all our business crowd!

To all you marvelous kids, so loud!

You’ve made our days, you’ve fashioned our lives.

“Our Thanks” to you “all” – we’ve done ALRIGHT.

 

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

Written for Ralph and Judy Diamond on the 25^th anniversary of their restaurant, West Side Coney Island.

 

Copyright Roy Richard

LIFE’S COPY BOOK by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

God gives us all a copy book,

                        At the dawn of every day,

A brand new page unsoiled and white,

                        To copy as we may.

At the top in His handwriting,

                        There’s a message we may see,

Of beauty and perfection,

                        That He wills for you and me.

 

Then let us strive with wisdom,

                        To read His message right,

To keep each page unsoiled and clean,

                        With honor, love and might,

Let us try to copy neatly,

                        Without haste, or waste, or blot,

And cheerfully go forward,

                        Contented with our lot.

 

When the days are long and weary,

                        And our burdens hard to bear,

Just remember there are thousands,

                        Who are striving everywhere,

To copy neat and accurate.

                        Pages full of heavenly cheer,

And scatter loving words and deeds,

                        The while they journey here.

 

And when the Master takes the book,

                        We do not need to say.

That hours have been wasted,

                        Nor yet too full a day.

For he will know before He looks,

                        Each task we’ve left undone,

And He will give us credit too,

                        For every honor won.

 

We need not to excuse our faults,

                        Nor tell of pain or woe,

For every trouble He has shared,

                        Each effort He will know.

Just say, Dear Lord, I did my best,

                        And weary were the tasks,

Tomorrow I will try again,

                        It’s all the Master asks.

 

Make every day a better day,

                        Good will to all you meet,

And lend a helping hand to him,

                        Who finds the hills too steep.

Just keep Life’s Copy Book unsoiled,

                        Each line therein will tell,

If we have labored all in vain,

                        If we have kept it well.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard

Banned Books by Roy Richard

August 2022

I would like to begin with a quote by the award winning Sherman Alexie, a Native American novelist, short story writer, poet, screenwriter, and filmmaker:

 “I believe in any kid’s ability to read any book and form their own judgments. It’s the job of a parent to guide his/her child through the reading of every book imaginable. Censorship of any form punishes curiosity.”

When we first send our children off to school to begin that natural journey of learning, most of us feel a tug in our hearts that is a desire to protect them from all dangers. We worry about the chain of events that will bring them from the kindergarten class to the stage at graduation. Each year as they advance through the education system many of the fears are no longer thought of. They mature, grow, blossom if you will, into their identities. Learn lessons about not only higher learning but abut life. After all the goal, is it not, to see that nervous child boarding the bus, turn into an adult, ready to face the world?

What we learn through these experiences is that we cannot control every aspect of their lives. They are going to fall and skin their knees. Have their hearts broken by first loves. Feel left out by the group. Stay up too late. In other words they are going to live their life. And living that life means facing each day and coping with any issues that arise.

If we take away their ability to form their own judgments about what they encounter in life we leave them unprepared for survival in the world.

I am blessed in that I have three amazing and extraordinary granddaughters. The oldest, a partial product of Davison Schools recently left for college. When she was around eleven years old, she began to take part in adult conversations at the dinner table. She freely expressed her views and opinions on many of the topics that came up. Politics? She had a view! Various forms of government? She had an opinion! Music from my generation? She seemed to know it! Equality? Unions? Genders? She could, as time progressed speak on these all!

At first I thought it was cute and that obviously someone else was putting their beliefs on her. Amazingly though as I begin to take her statements seriously and listen to her voice, I came to realize that she was researching these topics and making her own decisions! You see her Father and Mother did not necessarily censor her curiosity. If a topic interested her, she had free rein to look at the facts, ALL the facts from every available angle. If the data she had gleaned needed clarifying, she had the support of her parents, her grandparents and her teachers to help find that clarity. From all this she would make an informed choice and only would then begin to share her opinions and beliefs.

When I heard of the recent decision of the Davison School Board to ban additional books, I spoke out on Social Media about how wrong it was.  Some of my friends sent me excerpts from the texts to try and persuade me into agreeing with this decisions and I must admit that at first I began to wonder if maybe the correct decision had been made. So I made the next logical decision and that was to obtain the books and read them myself.

To date I have read four of the titles and cannot for the life of me understand why they come under attack. Yes the one is very graphic and from it is the small samples that I was sent. But when you read it in its context it fits and adds to the literature.

Taking away from our children, our young adults an opportunity to find answers to their inquires is nothing but abominable. You are handicapping a generation of young minds; Minds that we hope will run this country one day. When a parent asks a board to do such a thing, they are all but admitting that they cannot parent their children and are looking for someone else to do it. In addition the greater injustice of these circumstances is that your actions are not only depriving one mind of answers but many minds.

In closing I would leave you with the words of the American writer Judy Blume “Having the freedom to read and the freedom to choose is one of the best gifts my parents ever gave me.”

Thank You

Roy Richard

Copyright Roy Richard

UNTITLED (08) by Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

 

The beauty and the grander –

                Of the canyon known as grand –

Surpasses all description –

                For there are no words by man –

                Color, depth and size.

One can only look in wonder –

                And in awe we realize –

That this universe we live in –

                Is far greater than we know –

And I’m thinking the creator,

                Had in mind to make it so.

 

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill

 

Copyright Roy Richard

HANK JENKINS WAS MY FRIEND by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

(Hank Jenkins – V. Rees.     Bill-Mrs. Holt)

 

Hank Jenkins was a friend of mine,

                        And Hank, he said to me,

Bill, how’d you like to take a trip,

                        Down to sunny Florida?

 

Just think it over Bill, he says,

                        I’ll run the old bus down,

And we’ll spend the winter by the sea,

                        In some sunny town,

 

We’ll get away from snow and ice,

                        Where skies are cold and gray,

And I’ll promise, Bill, I’ll bring you home,

                        Around the first of May.

 

We’ll go on a fifty-fifty base,

                        I can make it in three days,

Think the proposition over, Bill,

                        That’s the very thing Hank says.

 

Well I thought the matter over,

                        And decided it might be,

A pretty good idea,

                        And a needed for rest for me.

 

So I told Hank I’d consider,

                        The trip if he would say,

He’d get me back real early,

                        Round the first of May.

 

Why sure says Hank, I’ll get you home,

                        Why darn your hide, says he,

Seems you sort of lost your confidence,

                        In a good old Pal like me.

 

So we started out one morning,

                        When the hills were all aglow,

Never’d see a sight so handsome,

                        No matter where you’d go.

 

We drove along the smooth highways,

                        Through city, farm and town,

Thought we’d reach our destination,

                        Before the sun went down.

 

But early in the afternoon,

                        Hank says, Oh Bill, by Gee.

A relative of mine lives here,

                        I think I’d like to see.

 

Just wait a minute Bill, says he,

                        I’ll tell him who I am,

I think he’s a second cousin,

                        To my Mother’s Uncle Dan.

 

Then Hank went to have a chat,

                        He clean forgot about me,

I waited in the hot sunshine,

                        As patient as could be.

 

Each day was very much alike,

                        Ni matter where we ran,

Hank had some relations,

                        Like his Mother’s Uncle Dan.

 

He visited in the morning,

                        And he visited through the day,

To tell the truth, Hank visited,

                        Along the whole way.

 

And when his relations ran out,

                        Didn’t bother him a mite,

He started in on strangers,

                        And he visited day and night.

 

The last night on the trip Hank spied,

                        A man who seemed to be,

A havin’ trouble with his car,

                        And Hank he says to me.

 

We’d better tow him in, says he,

                        And then he scrambled down,

And hitched him on our bus,

                        And towed him into town.

 

We got to town long after dark,

                        Believe me I was glad,

‘Twas just about the longest trio,

                        I think I ever had.

 

With visitin’ friends and relatives,

                        And strangers he might seek,

Old Hank was way behind the time,

                        Two days beyond a week.

 

But winter passed and spring came on,

                        The month of May passed too,

And I am wondering what on earth,

                        Old Hank expects to do.

 

Up north my work’s neglected,

                        And my family seems to be,

All out of sorts with everything,

                        Especially with me.

 

I’d take a train back north today.

                        But Gosh Old Hanks so good,

Couldn’t find a friend just like him,

                        And I wouldn’t if I could.

 

So I’m waitin’ for the day to come,

                        When we’ll get started home,

And it’s going to a good long time,

                        Before I crave to roam.

 

To places where the sky is blue,

                        And where the sun is real,

Well, No Siree, it’s not for me,

                        If Hank is at the wheel.

 

I ain’t going to be a quitter,

                        One thing I’m going to try,

To stick to Hank through thick and thin,

                        If it takes to next July.

 

Perhaps my folks will drop me flat,

                        And I’ll feel blue, but Gee,

I’ll stick to Hank till I get home,

                        But no more trips for me.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard