Speaking of A Child in Wales

I have a copy of Dylan Thomas' poem "A Child's Christmas in Wales".  This is the cover on my small copy

It begins:  
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six. 

Here's 6-year old Peg in the mountain village of Llanafan.

Autumn has arrived

I'm still marking time by events that began a little more than 5 years ago.  October was always my favorite month; now I dread it.  October the 11th is the 4th anniversary of the death of my husband.  Yes, I still mourn.  Some think I should be getting on with life.  I find that life has gotten on with me.  I have become the travelling middle of a sandwich.  I live with the kids during the week and with my mother most weekends.  I have a room at each place and never lack for something to fill the hours.  Yet . . .

At Mom's house, I've begun scanning her photos.  I'll send them to the brothers each week and let them do their own sorting and organizing of whatever they want to keep.

Last week I worked on some photos from Mom's childhood in Wales.  

Census records that will first show Mom are going to be a long time coming; it will be the 1931 census - that's due out in the year 2031.  This photo was probably taken about the time of her first birthday in 1927.  Mom was born in Cardiff and the photo may have been taken there.  The chair seems to swallow her up and the fancy backdrop is lost behind the chair back.  I wouldn't mind having that piece of furniture.

Then there's this one about age 8.

And this one taken at Llanafan, Cardiganshire, Wales.  My mother and Mamgu (my grandmother), at the "ancestral home".  Our family lived in the house called Bont Fach for 146 years.  That's a long time to live in one place.  

Ohio Trip, the finale

May 1^st, Sunday:

The Oklahoma Food Co-op opened for orders and I sat in Ohio in a nice room, in the rain, to start my order; rain during the night and off and on all day.  I guess all that running away had gained me a few dry and clear days, but they were gone now.  I loved my visit to Woodsfield, but it was time to move on.  

While doing research, I found on Google Books this, from a Monroe Co article in Historical Collections of Ohio by Henry Howe, p 268
  

Travelling Notes

"My original visit to Woodsfield was in March, 1846.  

I came in the character of a pedestrian, 

with my knapsack on my back, loaded with some 14 pounds.  

A steamboat had landed me on the Ohio some 16 miles away, 

and I came up the hills meeting scarcely a soul 

or seeing much else than hills and trees.  

Woodsfield was then much out of the world.  

Indeed the entire county was quite primitive; 

its people largely dwelt in cabins.  

This seemed to me a good thing,  

saving many the worry of having so much to look after.  

Great possessions, great cares.”

Today Woodsfield is a pleasant place to stay, both in its location and in its people.

I checked out of the Olive Tree Inn - reluctantly - and girded myself for another wet trip.  I drove north on Highway 800 until I connected with Interstate 70 west.  I thought I might be able to stay “above” all the rain and flooding. 

I crossed two states that day, windshield wipers going all the way.  I stopped and rested often, arriving at Terre Haute after a very wet journey.  I stayed at a Hampton again and paid the most for any room on the trip.  But the hot tub worked and I soaked my legs for a long time before I retired for the night and rested well.

May 2^nd, Monday:

I left Terre Haute early, it was raining again - surprise, surprise - and drove all day, resting often.  Stayed at Hampton on Interstate 70 in Springfield, Missouri.  I thought I might get to Joplin, but it was raining more heavily again.  Stayed at yet another Hampton; nice place.

May 3^rd, Tuesday:

Sunshine!  Good road from Springfield to Oklahoma line; horrible road for a while.  I later read in the newspaper that they’re planning to re-do the road soon. 

I stopped in Tulsa at Gardner’s Book Store.  It’s just not the same as it used to be when we first started going there 20 years-or-so ago.  They’ve made it more orderly and much nicer and cleaner, but there don’t seem to be as many treasures to be found.  Maybe they are just unable to find books that matter, since publishers now tend to print 10 jillion copies of garbage and very little good stuff.  I did find two books when I used to find an armful. 

I tried to locate two other shops but the roads are such a mess.  I travelled 51^st street for 3 miles through construction.  It was also too warm!  I headed for Mom’s to spend the night, before going home.

All in all, I drove 2658 miles.  All by Myself.  28.7 miles per gallon average on the gasoline, even facing strong wind the first two days and mountains in the middle of the trip.  I used 91.68 gallons, or $327 worth of gas.  The highest price I paid was $4.12; it was usually $3.85 or $3.95.

I nearly ran out of gas once again.  You’d think I’d have learned my lesson during my Missouri trip.  I was on the Will Rogers Turnpike - you know turnpikes don’t generally have gas stations except in the middle? - and an angel tapped me on my shoulder and said, “Have you looked at your gas gauge lately?”  Yikes!  I immediately got off at Big Cabin and paid $52 for a tank of gas.  I had a gallon and a half left.  Thank you, Lord, for watching out for me.

This was my final itinerary (where I laid to rest each night).

April 21  Little Rock, Arkansas

April 22  Columbia, Tennessee

April 23  Columbia, Tennessee

April 24  Columbia, Tennessee

April 25  Gordonsville, Tennessee

April 26  Huntington, West Virginia

April 27  Huntington, West Virginia

April 28  Marietta, Ohio

April 29  Woodsfield, Ohio

April 30  Woodsfield, Ohio

May 1      Terre Haute, Indiana

May 2     Springfield, Missouri

May 3     Midwest City, Oklahoma

A week of days and many miles short of my goal - but safe and sound all the way.

Ohio Trip, part 4

Thursday, the 28^th:

It was dry that morning - and stayed so all day.  I travelled Ohio Highway 7 along the Ohio River.  It was scenic - water everywhere, flooding fields; tugs on the river transporting coal.


Gallipolis is a pretty town along the Ohio River.  I sat for a while in this seat facing the river and walked through parking lots half under water.

I came across these signs -  

Wow! What a surprise.  The marker states:  "On April 1, 1818, six families from the Cilcennin area of Mid-Wales sailed from Aberaeron, Wales, to Baltimore.  The group of 36 people was led by John Jones Tirbach.  From Baltimore they traveled to Pittsburgh and then by flatboats down the Ohio River toward their destination -Paddy's Run in Butler County in the southwest corner of Ohio.  They stopped in Gallipolis for provisions where their boats were cut loose by either travel-weary women or citizens of Gallipolis who wanted them to stay.  The men found work on the Gallipolis to Chillicothe road that was under construction.  The terrain reminded them of Mid-Wales, so they purchased land near Centerville, and remained.  These Welsh prospered and wrote home to Wales with news of their success, prompting others to come."

What a hoot!  I'm betting on the women calling a halt to their travels.

Side two continues with the note that in the 1830s and 1840s several hundred families followed the first group to Gallia and Jackson counties.  

I did look at the map described for the Welsh church trail and any other time would have taken a day out to follow it.  But with the weather still deciding my route, I wanted to get on to Woodsfield.

Back on the narrow, twisting road that ran alongside the river, I sometimes wondered if the river was going to be over the road, or if I would get through dry all the way. 

Marietta was to be my stopping point for the night, before I crossed the “mountains” to Woodsfield, Monroe Co, Ohio.  Marietta was also the historic land office for that part of Ohio when settlers began to arrive.  I wanted to see what the terrain was like when our ancestors travelled there and back to make their land claims.  They probably went by water, but I imagine some of them must have ridden or walked as well.

I spent the night at a Hampton in Marietta, difficult to get to and expensive, and I didn’t make any remarks about the room or service, so each must have been unremarkable. 

Friday, the 29^th:

The next morning, with dry weather again, I left upon the most yearned-for days of my adventure. 

The stretch of road between Marietta and Woodsfield, Highway 26, let my imagination run loose.  I saw few houses and only one or two vehicles.  It was a quiet, lonesome road, with beautiful scenery.  Most of Monroe Co is one of the sections of Wayne National Forest, so my imagination didn’t have to work very hard to picture it as it may have been in the early 1800s.

Highway 26 from Marietta to Woodsfield - wonder if it was the original road for land registration?  It took a long time to get to Woodsfield.  The road was 2-lane, no shoulder, twisting and turning, climbing and dropping.  What a wonderful, if slow, drive.

Later in my visit an older fella asked me how I had come to Woodsfield.  When I told him over Hwy 26, he wanted to know why in the world I had come That Way!  He thought I had lost my mind.

I went straight to the Monroe county courthouse since it was already almost noon.  Sheila, the Recorder, was very helpful.  More than helpful, in fact.  She directed me to things I wouldn’t have thought to look for.  She seemed to know every piece of information that was available.  What a good introduction to Monroe County she was!  I made a lot of photocopies. 

It was time to find a room for the next few days.  I checked into the Olive Tree Inn, 8 rooms near the courthouse.  Actually, everything in Woodsfield is near everything else - it’s a small town.  Monroe county is as sparsely settled as it was 150 years ago.  Bill is the manager of the Olive Tree and Kathie the housekeeper.  The room was the cleanest I’ve ever stayed in.  It was comfortable and I’m glad to have had the chance to stay there. 

April 30^th, a Saturday:

The Library was open from 10 until 2.  I spent the morning touring the town and taking photos until time to visit the library.  

Now doesn't this look like a wonderful town to you?!

The Library, as had been at the Courthouse, was a treasure chest of materials about my families.

When I began working on our family history, I had not much information.  It was all paper and pencil and charts I would make to keep track of things.  I still have one chart I made from the time - tracking census records.  I remember how amazed I was that Steve’s family and mine had lived in the Same County in Ohio 150 years before the time of my discovery.  His Adamsons were in Monroe county by the 1830 census and my Dailey line was there by the 1820 census.  His family came from Ohio to Iowa and Missouri to Kansas to Oklahoma; mine from Ohio to Indiana to Iowa to Kansas to Oklahoma.  And there we were born, met, married. Will wonders never cease!

After the library closed on Saturday, I made my trip to Calais, pronounced ‘Kayliss’. (I sure was learning alternate pronunciations on this trip.)  I had trouble finding the town and was nearly  in Belmont county before I turned around to search again.  There wasn’t much left of the town other than the houses - and not many of those in the cluster near the remaining church.  Since I had so much trouble finding the town it was getting late in the day.  I decided against searching for the cemetery.  Next time!

Sightseeing northwest of Woodsfield:

And then there was this covered bridge.  

I walked across it and took too many pictures.  Here are some of them.

Ohio Trip, part 3

Monday, the 25^th of April:

Late that afternoon I headed northeast to get away from the storms that were coming.  I had planned to go north to Fleming Co, Kentucky, but the weather was looking poor in that direction, so I picked up Interstate 65 to Nashville, circled it on the south, and made it as far east as Gordonsville, before both daylight and I gave out.   It rained all night, but that was fine with me.  I was indoors and ready for a good night’s sleep.  The Comfort Inn room was wonderful except for a high-pitched noise and beeps all night long.

Tuesday the 26^th.

The rain was driving me further and further along; I wanted to get as close to the eastern side of Ohio as I could.  I drove east, then north to Kentucky.  I stopped to take pictures of the hill cuts made for the highway.  I don't think I've ever seen coal in the ground like this:

I took Highway 92 across the bottom of the state, through the Daniel Boone National Forest.  It was one of the loveliest drives I’ve ever been on.  Some day I will make it to Kentucky and see the state, instead of always just passing through.  

Somewhere along the road I saw this barn.  

I couldn't get close enough for a really good picture, and had to look up later, on the Internet, the reason for the pattern on the barn.  I found information that said several states had set up Quilt Trails, including Kentucky, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Indiana and Iowa.  One site even had map showing counties to visit.  That would make a good trip plan, wouldn't it!  

I had settled on Huntington, West Virginia, as my next stop - even though that wasn’t anywhere that I had planned to be - just for a starting point into Ohio. 

I stayed two nights in the Ramada just off I-40 in Huntington.  Jets in the whirlpool were broken, clerks all young fellas - very friendly and good service.  My kind of tea in the room - Twinings.  I hadn’t planned to stay two nights, but the weather, again, had other ideas.  I also found several good reasons to stay. 

Wednesday, the 27^th:

I found a place called Heritage Farm and Museum at Harveyville, which was just down the road from Huntington.  A long, winding, narrow road.  It is a reconstructed village and wonderful.  Again, I had a personal tour of the place and loved it.

It was an overcast day and comfortable for walking through the buildings and grounds, but eventually began to sprinkle.

The next day I spent an afternoon walking around PullmanSquare , drove around town looking at houses, and took it easy.  The Square has a bookstore - Empire Books and News - that has more magazines for sale in one place than anywhere I’ve ever seen.  Looked and looked and looked, but managed to keep my enthusiasm to only one magazine - Threads.

It was a good time to rest and I needed it after all the many miles of unrelenting driving I had been doing.  I re-evaluated my travel plans.  The rains had been so heavy that there was flooding in many of the places I had planned to visit.  I was leery of crossing the Ohio River, which was near flood stage by this time, in case I couldn’t get back across it.  Yep, it was that bad.  I figured I would just spend as much time in Monroe and Belmont counties as I could, then head back and come through Indiana and Iowa to do more research.  

I had been in Indiana many years ago, but didn’t do much other than in Logansport.  I needed information and cemetery searches in White and Carroll counties.  That was my new plan.  I sure hated to miss the eastern places I wanted to visit, but it wasn’t worth the anxiety.

Ohio Trip, part 2

I spent part of two days driving back and forth, between Columbia and Spring Hill, and parts West of the highway.  My husband’s grandfather was born “Columbia, Tennessee”, according to reports.  There is no birth record.  

Aunt Mary and Uncle John had been that way many years ago looking for family information.  She had given me a map to the land where her father was born, northwest of Columbia; in the county, but not in the town.  That was one of the places I wanted to see, as well as Lasting Hope Cemetery where Chandlers and Millers are buried.  Using her map, I did locate the exact piece of property and from the road could see the remains of the foundation of the house they had lived in.    

The area where "Grandpa Chandler" was born is gently rolling land.

James Mallard Chandler and two sisters were born in Maury Co, Tennessee.  Jim worked his way to Oklahoma, having left home at a young age.  His sisters, Nannie, the oldest child, and Bertha, also older than Jim, stayed in Tennessee for a bit. Here are photos of Bertha and Jim; I thought I had no photo of Nannie.  I didn't believe Aunt Mary had one either, or she would have given me a copy.  That has changed and I will devote a page to Nannie at a later time.  

Nannie Chandler Ellison

Bertha Chandler Thorne

James Mallard "Jim" Chandler

The family history is in my RootsWeb WorldConnect file.  The summary of their story is this:

Shadrack Chandler and Elizabeth Sears married in Orange Co, North Carolina in 1792.  They had one child - Thornton.  Elizabeth died.  Shadrack married again - to Elizabeth Latta - in 1810 in Orange Co, North Carolina.  They came to Maury Co, Tennessee, and had at least 6 children.   Shadrack died in 1838 and is buried in the Chandler cemetery east of Highway 31.  Elizabeth Latta Chandler died in 1872 and is buried at Lasting Hope, west of Highway 31.  Most of the family is in Lasting Hope, but some are in other cemeteries in the immediate area.

James Jackson Chandler 

is the youngest child of 

Shadrack and the second Elizabeth.  

James married Mary Jane Miller, daughter of Nancy Brumley and John Miller, in 1875 in Maury Co.  

They had three children, 2 girls and a boy - my husband’s grandfather.  Mary Jane died a month after the birth of her third child.  James and his widowed mother-in-law, Nancy Brumley Miller, raised his children as well as hers.

The original drawings of James and Mary Jane were last in the possession of Bertha's son in Memphis, Tennessee.  My copies are from photographs taken by Aunt Mary and Uncle John on a visit to Bertha's son Raymond.

First a stop for a Barn picture, on the road to the cemetery.  The barn appeared to still be in use.  You can tell that I took the photo out of the car window, but I didn't want to crop any of it.

The cemetery, itself, is in good condition.  It was a hot day, and the shade under this huge tree was welcome.  I ended up parking my car under the edge of the limbs and came nowhere near the markers.

I took along chalk because the markers were pretty old and I didn't know what condition they would be in.  I have cleaned markers, gently, on other cemetery photo trips, but this was my first experience with chalk.  I chalked heavily first, took photos, then wiped, gently, to see if the readability improved.  It didn't.  The best way to read them was with the heavy chalk.  

Mary Jane's monument was contemporary to her death.  The marker for James had been added when his grandchildren, Mary and Clint and Jack, had one made and put in its proper place.  By the time James died, the family was even poorer than they had been in previous years and I suspect they didn't have the money to have his burial place marked.  Aunt Mary said there originally had been a wooden marker for him.

before chalk

after chalk

Mary Jane and James together

By the way, after all these years of doing cemetery searches - more than 25 now - only in the last few weeks, while at Sunny Lane Cemetery, did I learn that a monument is upright and a marker is flat.  I like to learn something new every day an that was it.  I'm surprised I'd never picked up on that before now.

There were other Chandler monuments I photographed.  You'll have to check the WC file to link them more than I'm doing here.

George W Chandler, son of John and Susan 

I don't know why I didn't chalk the monument 

for John R Chandler, oldest brother of 

James J.  Or maybe I did and just didn't 

photograph it.  Who knows . . . 

Shelby Chandler, older brother of James J Chandler

Shelby's wife, Lorena Fitzgerald Chandler

Margaret, daughter of Shelby and Lorena

William James, son of Shelby and Lorena

I also photographed two markers with Chandler names that I didn't recognize.  One of these days I'll figure out how they are connected.  In the meantime, if anyone knows who these two fellas belong to, I'd appreciate hearing from you.  

and

There were Millers, too, that I photographed.  This first photo: John Miller, husband of Nancy, who helped raise Grandpa Chandler (Nancy has no marker or monument or anything on her grave in Dallas, Texas); the monument for Mary Jane Miller Chandler; the marker for James Jackson Chandler.   

There were Latta markers in Lasting Hope Cemetery.  Elizabeth the second, wife of Shadrack and mother of the above Chandler children, was a Latta.  She is buried in Lasting Hope with her children, rather than in the Chandler cemetery with Shadrack.  I think that was convenience as much as anything.  Shadrack had died 34 years before Elizabeth and her children, particularly James J, lived with and cared for her.

Here's her monument:

I didn’t manage to get to the courthouse to check land records - or any other kind.  I came in late on Good Friday; Saturday and Sunday the offices were closed; Monday I wanted to visit the Historical Society.  I sure was glad I did.  They have a wonderful library and museum in Columbia.  I spent most of the day there, the last of three days of sunshine and wonderful weather.