Lucinda was six when Richard Haley her father, died. He was thirty-eight.
Did this young farmer die under a tree felled by his own hand? Did he go to his death bed with a fatal sickness, to lie with failing strength, in the exquisite humiliation that besets the lingering dying? Did he have a moment to embrace little Lucinda? Did he plead to God to spare him for her sake?
The death of her father would have been a preparing of Lucinda for her many deaths.
Lucinda married Ezekiel Dorland, who gave her three children, Mary, Richard and James. Ezekiel then died, at thirty-four. Baby James Emory Dorland was but two.
Lucinda Haley Dorland would bury daughter Mary, at age 13 and then, in Indiana her son, Richard, would die.
James Emory Dorland (1844-1915) was given a reasonable longevity, denied his brother and sister, his father and his grandfather Haley.
James, eighteen in the summer of 1862, went for a soldier to civil war. He survived thirteen named battles, with Company C, 41 Ohio Infantry Volunteers, serving without leave, from August 1862 until the close of the war in 1865.
Hunched down on a stump or log, James wrote wartime letters home that must have terrified his mother. From near Atlanta, taking a deliberately light tone, James mentioned the "great slaughter" inflicted on the rebels. He listed the dead and wounded of his hometown, boys his mother would have known.
In 1871, the ambitious veteran, now a school teacher, assistant principal and assistant county clerk and optimistic school book salesman, and the only surviving child of Lucinda's three children, James Dorland married Arabelle America Ireland (1850-1895) in her home in Columbia City, Indiana. Lucinda attended the wedding with her second husband, Henry Lash.
Death and Life struck a bargain over James Dorland. He lived long but, too soon, buried Arabelle, love of his life, in 1895. Sixty-seven years later, her daughter Blanche, 91, could not speak of her mother without a tear.
Lucinda Haley Dorland had died in 1893, the year historian Frederick Jackson Turner announced in an academic paper that the American frontier was closed. Lucinda had moved westward from Ohio to Indiana. As if echoing the end of the nations's 19th century westward push, Lucinda in death, was brought back east by her son James, who buried his mother next to his father, her first husband Ezekiel.
*****************
OUR LUCINDA DORLAND DEATH BEFRIENDED
by
Richard Baldwin Cook
(copyright 2010)
Our Lucinda Dorland, death befriended.
Her father Richard died at thirty-eight.
At six, then, her plans and dreams amended.
God did not spare a father for her sake.
Married Ezekiel, gone at thirty-four.
She then placed two young children in the grave.
Their James alone would live beyond four score.
By bargaining with Fate, did James she save?
She'd nothing God might want, God couldn't take.
James went to war and killed, returned a man.
Obtained an education for her sake.
Then James supported her as hoped, not planned.
The US frontier closed the year she died.
But private, inner paths remain untried.
Did this young farmer die under a tree felled by his own hand? Did he go to his death bed with a fatal sickness, to lie with failing strength, in the exquisite humiliation that besets the lingering dying? Did he have a moment to embrace little Lucinda? Did he plead to God to spare him for her sake?
The death of her father would have been a preparing of Lucinda for her many deaths.
Lucinda married Ezekiel Dorland, who gave her three children, Mary, Richard and James. Ezekiel then died, at thirty-four. Baby James Emory Dorland was but two.
Lucinda Haley Dorland would bury daughter Mary, at age 13 and then, in Indiana her son, Richard, would die.
James Emory Dorland (1844-1915) was given a reasonable longevity, denied his brother and sister, his father and his grandfather Haley.
James, eighteen in the summer of 1862, went for a soldier to civil war. He survived thirteen named battles, with Company C, 41 Ohio Infantry Volunteers, serving without leave, from August 1862 until the close of the war in 1865.
Hunched down on a stump or log, James wrote wartime letters home that must have terrified his mother. From near Atlanta, taking a deliberately light tone, James mentioned the "great slaughter" inflicted on the rebels. He listed the dead and wounded of his hometown, boys his mother would have known.
In 1871, the ambitious veteran, now a school teacher, assistant principal and assistant county clerk and optimistic school book salesman, and the only surviving child of Lucinda's three children, James Dorland married Arabelle America Ireland (1850-1895) in her home in Columbia City, Indiana. Lucinda attended the wedding with her second husband, Henry Lash.
Death and Life struck a bargain over James Dorland. He lived long but, too soon, buried Arabelle, love of his life, in 1895. Sixty-seven years later, her daughter Blanche, 91, could not speak of her mother without a tear.
Lucinda Haley Dorland had died in 1893, the year historian Frederick Jackson Turner announced in an academic paper that the American frontier was closed. Lucinda had moved westward from Ohio to Indiana. As if echoing the end of the nations's 19th century westward push, Lucinda in death, was brought back east by her son James, who buried his mother next to his father, her first husband Ezekiel.
*****************
OUR LUCINDA DORLAND DEATH BEFRIENDED
by
Richard Baldwin Cook
(copyright 2010)
Our Lucinda Dorland, death befriended.
Her father Richard died at thirty-eight.
At six, then, her plans and dreams amended.
God did not spare a father for her sake.
Married Ezekiel, gone at thirty-four.
She then placed two young children in the grave.
Their James alone would live beyond four score.
By bargaining with Fate, did James she save?
She'd nothing God might want, God couldn't take.
James went to war and killed, returned a man.
Obtained an education for her sake.
Then James supported her as hoped, not planned.
The US frontier closed the year she died.
But private, inner paths remain untried.
Lucinda was six when Richard Haley her father, died. He was thirty-eight.
Did this young farmer die under a tree felled by his own hand? Did he go to his death bed with a fatal sickness, to lie with failing strength, in the exquisite humiliation that besets the lingering dying? Did he have a moment to embrace little Lucinda? Did he plead to God to spare him for her sake?
The death of her father would have been a preparing of Lucinda for her many deaths.
Lucinda married Ezekiel Dorland, who gave her three children, Mary, Richard and James. Ezekiel then died, at thirty-four. Baby James Emory Dorland was but two.
Lucinda Haley Dorland would bury daughter Mary, at age 13 and then, in Indiana her son, Richard, would die.
James Emory Dorland (1844-1915) was given a reasonable longevity, denied his brother and sister, his father and his grandfather Haley.
James, eighteen in the summer of 1862, went for a soldier to civil war. He survived thirteen named battles, with Company C, 41 Ohio Infantry Volunteers, serving without leave, from August 1862 until the close of the war in 1865.
Hunched down on a stump or log, James wrote wartime letters home that must have terrified his mother. From near Atlanta, taking a deliberately light tone, James mentioned the "great slaughter" inflicted on the rebels. He listed the dead and wounded of his hometown, boys his mother would have known.
In 1871, the ambitious veteran, now a school teacher, assistant principal and assistant county clerk and optimistic school book salesman, and the only surviving child of Lucinda's three children, James Dorland married Arabelle America Ireland (1850-1895) in her home in Columbia City, Indiana. Lucinda attended the wedding with her second husband, Henry Lash.
Death and Life struck a bargain over James Dorland. He lived long but, too soon, buried Arabelle, love of his life, in 1895. Sixty-seven years later, her daughter Blanche, 91, could not speak of her mother without a tear.
Lucinda Haley Dorland had died in 1893, the year historian Frederick Jackson Turner announced in an academic paper that the American frontier was closed. Lucinda had moved westward from Ohio to Indiana. As if echoing the end of the nations's 19th century westward push, Lucinda in death, was brought back east by her son James, who buried his mother next to his father, her first husband Ezekiel.
*****************
OUR LUCINDA DORLAND DEATH BEFRIENDED
by
Richard Baldwin Cook
(copyright 2010)
Our Lucinda Dorland, death befriended.
Her father Richard died at thirty-eight.
At six, then, her plans and dreams amended.
God did not spare a father for her sake.
Married Ezekiel, gone at thirty-four.
She then placed two young children in the grave.
Their James alone would live beyond four score.
By bargaining with Fate, did James she save?
She'd nothing God might want, God couldn't take.
James went to war and killed, returned a man.
Obtained an education for her sake.
Then James supported her as hoped, not planned.
The US frontier closed the year she died.
But private, inner paths remain untried.
Did this young farmer die under a tree felled by his own hand? Did he go to his death bed with a fatal sickness, to lie with failing strength, in the exquisite humiliation that besets the lingering dying? Did he have a moment to embrace little Lucinda? Did he plead to God to spare him for her sake?
The death of her father would have been a preparing of Lucinda for her many deaths.
Lucinda married Ezekiel Dorland, who gave her three children, Mary, Richard and James. Ezekiel then died, at thirty-four. Baby James Emory Dorland was but two.
Lucinda Haley Dorland would bury daughter Mary, at age 13 and then, in Indiana her son, Richard, would die.
James Emory Dorland (1844-1915) was given a reasonable longevity, denied his brother and sister, his father and his grandfather Haley.
James, eighteen in the summer of 1862, went for a soldier to civil war. He survived thirteen named battles, with Company C, 41 Ohio Infantry Volunteers, serving without leave, from August 1862 until the close of the war in 1865.
Hunched down on a stump or log, James wrote wartime letters home that must have terrified his mother. From near Atlanta, taking a deliberately light tone, James mentioned the "great slaughter" inflicted on the rebels. He listed the dead and wounded of his hometown, boys his mother would have known.
In 1871, the ambitious veteran, now a school teacher, assistant principal and assistant county clerk and optimistic school book salesman, and the only surviving child of Lucinda's three children, James Dorland married Arabelle America Ireland (1850-1895) in her home in Columbia City, Indiana. Lucinda attended the wedding with her second husband, Henry Lash.
Death and Life struck a bargain over James Dorland. He lived long but, too soon, buried Arabelle, love of his life, in 1895. Sixty-seven years later, her daughter Blanche, 91, could not speak of her mother without a tear.
Lucinda Haley Dorland had died in 1893, the year historian Frederick Jackson Turner announced in an academic paper that the American frontier was closed. Lucinda had moved westward from Ohio to Indiana. As if echoing the end of the nations's 19th century westward push, Lucinda in death, was brought back east by her son James, who buried his mother next to his father, her first husband Ezekiel.
*****************
OUR LUCINDA DORLAND DEATH BEFRIENDED
by
Richard Baldwin Cook
(copyright 2010)
Our Lucinda Dorland, death befriended.
Her father Richard died at thirty-eight.
At six, then, her plans and dreams amended.
God did not spare a father for her sake.
Married Ezekiel, gone at thirty-four.
She then placed two young children in the grave.
Their James alone would live beyond four score.
By bargaining with Fate, did James she save?
She'd nothing God might want, God couldn't take.
James went to war and killed, returned a man.
Obtained an education for her sake.
Then James supported her as hoped, not planned.
The US frontier closed the year she died.
But private, inner paths remain untried.
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