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| Scott Connor Barnard (#47118264)
 | member for 4 years, 1 month, 7 days |
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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.
I dedicate my efforts to those who have been forgotten
I live in Sevierville, Tennessee, an 11th generation American!
Look for my memorialized individuals at Ancestry.Com, "One American Family" tree
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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 and The Campton Historical Society for their copy of Campton Cemetery internments and Jane Westfall for her copy of the inventory of internments at The 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.
Much heartfelt thanks to all of those who have added to my knowledge of my family history.
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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!!
borrowed from N.L. Craig
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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
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How soon fades
the tender flower
....from the marker of Ruby Lee, 1917-18
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Oh, for the touch of the
banished hand
A sound of the voice that
is stilled.
from L.M. Capps' marker
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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
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Gone, but not forgotten | |
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