"We are the chosen. In each family, there is one who seems called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again, to tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve. Doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts, but instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the storytellers of the tribe. "
Wife of Garry Ellis Johnson, Sr.
Widow of Leonard Ross Tudor.
Ex-wife of Edward Donald Brown
Ex-wife of Richard Wayne Fallin
Mother of Jason Ryan Fallin of Houston, Texas.
Daughter of Jean Marie (Linderman) Frederick Mancill and LeRoy Eugene Frederick.
Sister of Joseph Lee, Phyllis Jean (Hyden), Karl Thomas, Patricia Marie (Vanderford) (Harrod), and Sarah Kay (Moore) Frederick.
Granddaughter of Phyllis Eugenia Adele (Palen) Linderman; formerly of Caledonia, MN, and; Harry William Linderman, formerly from Dubuque, IA.
Granddaughter of Elizabeth Annie "Bessie" (Mazac) Frederick, from Crosby, TX (formerly Granger, TX); and; Charlie F. Frederick, (aka Karel Fredrick) (formerly from Moravia) from Taylor, TX.
Great Granddaughter of Leopold Frank Palen and; Besse Leone (Koch) Palen, from Luxembourg; and Jan "John" and; Annie Marie "Mary"(Dudika) Mazac, of Moravia.
Lord, help me dig into the past
And sift the sands of time,
That I might find the roots that made
This family tree of mine.
Lord, help me trace the ancient roads
On which my father's trod,
And led them through so many lands
To find our present sod.
Lord, help me find an ancient book
Or dusty manuscript,
That's safely hidden now away
In some forgotten crypt.
Lord, let it bridge the gap that haunts
My soul when I can't find,
The missing link between some name
That ends the same as mine.
Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.
Written by: Walter Butler Palmer (1868-1932)
Published in "Heart Throbs and Hoof Beats"
San Jose, CA Hills-Murgotten Co., 1922
Today we walked where others walked
On a lonely, windswept hill;
Today we talked where other cried
For Loved Ones whose lives are stilled.
Today our hearts were touched
By graves of tiny babies;
Snatched from the arms of loving kin,
In the heartbreak of the ages.
Today we saw where the grandparents lay
In the last sleep of their time;
Lying under the trees and clouds -
Their beds kissed by the sun and wind.
Today we wondered about an unmarked spot;
Who lies beneath this hollowed ground?
Was it a babe, child, young or old?
No indication could be found.
Today we saw where Mom and Dad lay.
We had been here once before
On a day we'd all like to forget,
But will remember forever more.
Today we recorded for kith and kin
The graves of ancestors past;
To be preserved for generations hence,
A record we hope will last.
Cherish it, my friend; preserve it, my friend,
For stones sometimes crumble to dust
And generations of folks yet to come
Will be grateful for your trust.
Search memorial contributions by Sally Frederick Johnson