I was born into an old New England family and raised in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire. As a youth I didn't know (or care) much about my family history. Now I have been bitten by the genealogical bug, or maybe it was a shark, and it's incurable.

"What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others." Pericles

I dedicate my efforts to those who have been forgotten

I live in Forest City, North Carolina, an 11th generation American and member of the Sons of the American Revolution

Look for my memorialized individuals at Ancestry.Com, "One American Family" tree

Much credit and honor must be given to those who compiled much of the information I've added for the New Hampshire cemeteries. They are Anita Downing for her Pine Grove Cemetery transcription; Beverly MacIntosh for her transcriptions of Woodstock cemeteries and much more; Barbara Avery for her Woodstock Town Records; Lester & Rita (Hammond) Mitchell, Anita Downing and Walt Stockwell at The Campton Historical Society for their copy of Campton Cemetery interments and Jane Westfall for her copy of the inventory of interments at Homeland Cemetery in Bristol. Special acknowledgement and thanks goes to R. W. Musgrove and his "History of Bristol, New Hampshire" for much confirming evidence for those buried in the Homeland Cemetery. Kristin Snow is much appreciated for her photos and suggestions as is Cousin Pat Adams Dunipace

Much heartfelt thanks to all of those who have added to my knowledge of my family history and added photos and additional information to my memorials.

Many many years ago when I was twenty three,
I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter
Who had hair of red.
My father fell in love with her,
And soon the two were wed.

This made my dad my son-in-law
And changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother,
For she was my father's wife.
To complicate the matters worse,
Although it brought me joy,
I soon became the father
Of a bouncing baby boy.

My little baby then became
A brother-in-law to dad.
And so became my uncle,
Though it made me very sad.
For if he was my uncle,
Then that also made him brother
To the widow's grown-up daughter
Who, of course, was my step-mother.

Father's wife then had a son,
Who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandson,
For he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother
And it makes me blue,
Because, although she is my wife,
She is my grandma too.

If my wife is my grandmother,
Then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it,
It simply drives me wild.
For now I have become
The strangest case you ever saw.
As the husband of my grandmother,
I am my own grandpa!!

A million times we'll need you,
a million times we'll cry.
If love alone could have saved you,
you never would have died.
In life we loved you dearly,
in death we love you still.
In our hearts you hold a place,
no one else will ever fill.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
but you didn't go alone.
Part of us went with you,
the day God called you home.

from the memorial to Anthony Thomas Pellicci, 1929-2009

How soon fades
the tender flower
....from the marker of Ruby Lee, 1917-18

Oh, for the touch of the
banished hand
A sound of the voice that
is stilled.
from L.M. Capps' marker

Dear Ancestor,
Your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone,
The name, the date, are chiseled out in weather-beaten stone.
It reaches out for all to see, it is too late to mourn,
You did not know I would exist, you died and I was born.
Yet each of us are part of you, in flesh, in blood, in bone,
And in my breast there beats a pulse entirely not my own.
~ Author Unknown

Gone, but not forgotten

I was born into an old New England family and raised in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire. As a youth I didn't know (or care) much about my family history. Now I have been bitten by the genealogical bug, or maybe it was a shark, and it's incurable.

"What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others." Pericles

I dedicate my efforts to those who have been forgotten

I live in Forest City, North Carolina, an 11th generation American and member of the Sons of the American Revolution

Look for my memorialized individuals at Ancestry.Com, "One American Family" tree

Much credit and honor must be given to those who compiled much of the information I've added for the New Hampshire cemeteries. They are Anita Downing for her Pine Grove Cemetery transcription; Beverly MacIntosh for her transcriptions of Woodstock cemeteries and much more; Barbara Avery for her Woodstock Town Records; Lester & Rita (Hammond) Mitchell, Anita Downing and Walt Stockwell at The Campton Historical Society for their copy of Campton Cemetery interments and Jane Westfall for her copy of the inventory of interments at Homeland Cemetery in Bristol. Special acknowledgement and thanks goes to R. W. Musgrove and his "History of Bristol, New Hampshire" for much confirming evidence for those buried in the Homeland Cemetery. Kristin Snow is much appreciated for her photos and suggestions as is Cousin Pat Adams Dunipace

Much heartfelt thanks to all of those who have added to my knowledge of my family history and added photos and additional information to my memorials.

Many many years ago when I was twenty three,
I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter
Who had hair of red.
My father fell in love with her,
And soon the two were wed.

This made my dad my son-in-law
And changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother,
For she was my father's wife.
To complicate the matters worse,
Although it brought me joy,
I soon became the father
Of a bouncing baby boy.

My little baby then became
A brother-in-law to dad.
And so became my uncle,
Though it made me very sad.
For if he was my uncle,
Then that also made him brother
To the widow's grown-up daughter
Who, of course, was my step-mother.

Father's wife then had a son,
Who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandson,
For he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother
And it makes me blue,
Because, although she is my wife,
She is my grandma too.

If my wife is my grandmother,
Then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it,
It simply drives me wild.
For now I have become
The strangest case you ever saw.
As the husband of my grandmother,
I am my own grandpa!!

A million times we'll need you,
a million times we'll cry.
If love alone could have saved you,
you never would have died.
In life we loved you dearly,
in death we love you still.
In our hearts you hold a place,
no one else will ever fill.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
but you didn't go alone.
Part of us went with you,
the day God called you home.

from the memorial to Anthony Thomas Pellicci, 1929-2009

How soon fades
the tender flower
....from the marker of Ruby Lee, 1917-18

Oh, for the touch of the
banished hand
A sound of the voice that
is stilled.
from L.M. Capps' marker

Dear Ancestor,
Your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone,
The name, the date, are chiseled out in weather-beaten stone.
It reaches out for all to see, it is too late to mourn,
You did not know I would exist, you died and I was born.
Yet each of us are part of you, in flesh, in blood, in bone,
And in my breast there beats a pulse entirely not my own.
~ Author Unknown

Gone, but not forgotten