My parents, Joseph Tibbs and Sindonia Alexander as told by Lucy Tibbs Costanzo:
I remember little of my father. One can live with a person a lifetime and yet not know their roots. The stories of why their lives became so different, their desires and their dreams.
He was born October 18, 1848 in Glasgow Scotland, the seventh child of Robert Tibbs and Jane Brock. His life in Scotland was one of sadness, desperation and work, for there were nine children in the family, however only three made it to adulthood. And each of those children were expected to work if at all possible. The family had converted to the Mormon religion and decided to come to America. The children and parents worked in the thread mill to pay for steerage tickets and in time settled in Salt Lake.
Joseph was a handsome man with black hair, dark grey eyes, straight nose, full lips, his head was noble resembling statues one sees of Roman Emperors. He was muscular, well built, six feet 2 inches tall.
My memory of my father's actual personality is poor for when I was about four, he had a stroke one day coming home from work. I can see him falling and leaving for Salt Lake with Uncle Peter to the St. Mark's hospital, so white and clean. There was no work for a railroad man who could not speak. His sadness was hard to bear for he spent so much time housebound.
My Father died from pneumonia on March 2, 1922, in Eureka, Utah, at the age of 73, and was buried there.
I remember little of my father. One can live with a person a lifetime and yet not know their roots. The stories of why their lives became so different, their desires and their dreams.
He was born October 18, 1848 in Glasgow Scotland, the seventh child of Robert Tibbs and Jane Brock. His life in Scotland was one of sadness, desperation and work, for there were nine children in the family, however only three made it to adulthood. And each of those children were expected to work if at all possible. The family had converted to the Mormon religion and decided to come to America. The children and parents worked in the thread mill to pay for steerage tickets and in time settled in Salt Lake.
Joseph was a handsome man with black hair, dark grey eyes, straight nose, full lips, his head was noble resembling statues one sees of Roman Emperors. He was muscular, well built, six feet 2 inches tall.
My memory of my father's actual personality is poor for when I was about four, he had a stroke one day coming home from work. I can see him falling and leaving for Salt Lake with Uncle Peter to the St. Mark's hospital, so white and clean. There was no work for a railroad man who could not speak. His sadness was hard to bear for he spent so much time housebound.
My Father died from pneumonia on March 2, 1922, in Eureka, Utah, at the age of 73, and was buried there.
My parents, Joseph Tibbs and Sindonia Alexander as told by Lucy Tibbs Costanzo:
I remember little of my father. One can live with a person a lifetime and yet not know their roots. The stories of why their lives became so different, their desires and their dreams.
He was born October 18, 1848 in Glasgow Scotland, the seventh child of Robert Tibbs and Jane Brock. His life in Scotland was one of sadness, desperation and work, for there were nine children in the family, however only three made it to adulthood. And each of those children were expected to work if at all possible. The family had converted to the Mormon religion and decided to come to America. The children and parents worked in the thread mill to pay for steerage tickets and in time settled in Salt Lake.
Joseph was a handsome man with black hair, dark grey eyes, straight nose, full lips, his head was noble resembling statues one sees of Roman Emperors. He was muscular, well built, six feet 2 inches tall.
My memory of my father's actual personality is poor for when I was about four, he had a stroke one day coming home from work. I can see him falling and leaving for Salt Lake with Uncle Peter to the St. Mark's hospital, so white and clean. There was no work for a railroad man who could not speak. His sadness was hard to bear for he spent so much time housebound.
My Father died from pneumonia on March 2, 1922, in Eureka, Utah, at the age of 73, and was buried there.
I remember little of my father. One can live with a person a lifetime and yet not know their roots. The stories of why their lives became so different, their desires and their dreams.
He was born October 18, 1848 in Glasgow Scotland, the seventh child of Robert Tibbs and Jane Brock. His life in Scotland was one of sadness, desperation and work, for there were nine children in the family, however only three made it to adulthood. And each of those children were expected to work if at all possible. The family had converted to the Mormon religion and decided to come to America. The children and parents worked in the thread mill to pay for steerage tickets and in time settled in Salt Lake.
Joseph was a handsome man with black hair, dark grey eyes, straight nose, full lips, his head was noble resembling statues one sees of Roman Emperors. He was muscular, well built, six feet 2 inches tall.
My memory of my father's actual personality is poor for when I was about four, he had a stroke one day coming home from work. I can see him falling and leaving for Salt Lake with Uncle Peter to the St. Mark's hospital, so white and clean. There was no work for a railroad man who could not speak. His sadness was hard to bear for he spent so much time housebound.
My Father died from pneumonia on March 2, 1922, in Eureka, Utah, at the age of 73, and was buried there.
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