|Birth: ||Mar. 21, 1844|
|Death: ||Apr. 4, 1914|
New York, USA
Maria Louisa, (pronounced Mar-eye-ah Lou-eye-sah), born in Canada, emigrating in the early 1860's to Horicon, NY where she lived briefly 'til she married and moved to Johnsburg, NY was the daughter of Robert McKee & Lydia (Fadden) McKee of Horicon, NY. and spouse of William Bates, Jr. They had 9 children.
Memories of my Mother (1944) by Alice Bates Bennett
My mother was born of Canadian parents and her parents were Scotch and Irish. I believe my grandmother's name was Sarah McFadden and my grandfather's name was Robert McKee. I know but little about her childhood, from different things she has said I gathered her father used to run a sawmill that stood in the midst of a forest. Here, there were large mudturtles upon whose back she used to ride as a child. Once I remember her telling us of being followed by a panther.
When I arrived upon the scene, I was the last of nine children and my earliest recollection was of living in a little log cabin which nestled at the foot of Old Cranes and when I say foot, I mean foot for the mountain wasn't over a ten minute walk from the house.
The cabin contained a large kitchen, pantry and four bedrooms. Here, we children ate, slept and learned what our mother could teach us of nature and beauty, grew to manhood and womanhood. Here my mother spent the most of the years of her life. Advantages for improvement were few, but my mother managed to give us children a desire to better ourselves. One by one as they reached years of maturity they went forth to conquer the world.
While I was home I can not remember my mother ever leaving the place but a very few times. Once in two or three years, perhaps to visit her sister who only lived about 15 miles distant, the road must be traveled with horses. Twice in my life have I known her to go to visit three sons who lived forty miles distant and very few times did she go to visit my sisters who lived quite near. Now and then she would exchange day long visits with near neighbors, these were the bright spots of her existance.
She was denied the priviledge of church, once in a while someone would hold services in a little church about three miles distant. Now and then a traveling Free Methodist or so called Holy Roller would hold services at first one neighbors and then another, boxes and planks placed across them afforded seats. A religious paper called the Zion's Watchman and her Bible were her prop day to day. For reading aside from the Bible and Zion's Watchman was a weekly newspaper which was exchanged with neighbors for a little story paper called happy hours. Papers which had accumulated through the years were read over and over until they were worn out, none were ever thrown away. A few books which had been gathered to form a Sunday School library, perhaps forty or fifty by some enterprising soul were passed around and read and read again. As a child I scoured the neighborhood for reading and happy indeed was the family when I succeeded in finding some. To my mother and father too, I owe my love of reading.
My mother was 48 when I was born, but my happiest recollections of her, lie in the fact that she was never too busy to play with me. Teetering on the teeter board, sliding down hill, playing tea party, dominoes and parchesi. Other memories are her gentleness when I was ill, reading to me and in other ways trying to make the long days easier.
My mother's education was limited as far as these times go, but probably in her youth her education was as good as the average, but she aquired an education through reading which was better than lots of this generation.
She was a very quiet person, modest and unassuming, kind to her family and neighbors. To some perhaps this would seem a quiet and boring life, what did she get out of life?, not much of this world's goods but I am sure when her name is called up yonder that there will be much more to her credit than most.
Her joy lay in rearing her children to be good men and women who would be a credit to the community they lived in. As Abraham said, "All that I am or ever hope to be I owe to my angel Mother." I wonder sometimes if my mother ever thought like this;
They think because I sew and bake
And sweep a white pine floor
I never think of winding roads
Some were beyond my door
They think me deaf to messages
Of wind in trees that bend
And away in sheer abandonment
While all I do is mend
'Tis true my body dwells at home
While a white shoreline calls
The roving heart and soul of me
Beyond these humble walls
And so I sing and bake my bread
And baste my narrow seams
But while I put my bread in pans
My heart is bright with dreams
Robert McKee (1798 - 1891)
Lydia Fadden McKee (1808 - 1889)
William Bates (1837 - 1910)*
Alice Pearl Bates Bennett (1891 - 1980)*
John McKee (1830 - 1897)*
Ann Eliza McKee Bump (1832 - ____)**
Emma Jane McKee Vilander (1841 - 1928)**
Maria Louisa McKee Bates (1844 - 1914)
Nancy (Nell) McKee Wills (1846 - 1943)**
Mary E. McKee Blehl (1849 - 1917)**
New York, USA
Created by: Andrew L.
Record added: Jan 18, 2006
Find A Grave Memorial# 13063036