Part III: The Davis Six

Part III: The Davis Six

The Legacy of Dr. Andrew Russell Davis and Josephine Ryan Davis

Andrew Russell Davis, M.D.

The six children of Dr. Andrew Russell Davis and Josephine Ryan Davis were the generation of my grandfather. I will not trace the genealogy of each. See pages 84-86 of “A Cloud of Witnesses” to see a list of some of the children and grandchildren of The Six.

Appropriately, the eldest of the six was named Edward W. Davis (perhaps after Andrew Russell’s father who died during the Civil War). Uncle Ed was born on April 16, 1881 when Andrew Russell was 24 years old. Ed Davis was in the oil business at
Moundville, Alabama. His first wife was Olive Terry who was born on February 10, 1884 and died on December 27, 1930. He later married Johnnie Mills who lived from August 18, 1885 to May 16, 1962. My remembrance of Uncle Ed was that he was a man who had a wiry frame, a quick wit, an independent spirit as well as a stubborn streak. He lived in a house that was located on the west side of Highway 69. Hale County High School was on the opposite side of the highway. Ed lived near his brother Virgil or Virgil’s son Julian. I always wondered if Ed had to be looked after as he advanced in years. He died on January 10, 1972 a short three months before his 91^st birthday. To me he had a compulsive nature and would head off by himself and get a Greyhound bus ticket (one-way) to Leeds, Alabama where his daughter Lillian lived. When zip codes became the U. S. Postal Service newest addition to addresses, Uncle Ed never put a street address on his letters to Lillian. He would print her name and underneath the name he would put her zip code. His correspondence always made it to its destination. I remember Ed living in another house before the one mentioned above. It was south of Moundville. That is where I first met Aunt Johannie, his second wife.

My brother Edward Larry Davis was named after Uncle Edward W. Davis. I assume that the W. in Ed’s name was for William. Uncle Ed’s grandfather had the middle initial W. and that grandfather’s grandfather was possibly the William Davis who was married in 1782 as referenced in Part One of this series on the Davis Family. The names William, Edward, Andrew and Russell have been used as first names in the generation of my Dad’s cousins and their children. These cousins are the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of Andrew Russell Davis.

The second surviving child of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis was Isaac Luther Davis. As stated in previous entries Isaac Luther was my paternal grandfather who eventually settled in Mobile, Alabama, but he grew up like the rest of the Davis Six in Moundville, Alabama which is in Hale County. Moundville, Alabama is right across the county line that separates Tuscaloosa County and Hale County. Visitors to the Deep South and not so Deep South learn very quickly that many southerners identify their home not only with the community in which they live but most often with the county. In fact, to this day, the automobile license plate (or car tag in the colloquial) always has the number which identifies the county of residence. I can still recall some of those numbers that identify various counties. Let’s see...#63 is Tuscaloosa County; #36 is Hale County; #25 is Cullman County; #1A or #1B or #1C is Jefferson County where Birmingham is located. It is the largest in population so has #1 for its designation. The second in population is Mobile--thus the designation #2 for Mobile County. Montgomery is third in population—thus #3 for Montgomery County. I don’t venture too far into this number’s game since I’ve lived away from Alabama for over 34 years and the memory is waning. Well, #5 is Baldwin County…the numbers continue on in an alphabet order for the counties. I can not remember #4…ah! It’s Autauga County which is near Montgomery. I will stop now since there are at least 67 counties in Alabama.

Where was I…Oh yes…Isaac Luther Davis was married twice as were both of his brothers. He married Ellie Cronin Davis on January 30, 1907 in Mobile, Alabama at St. Joseph Church in Mobile. Ellie Davis died on June 26, 1916 and Isaac Luther married Irene Cronin on November 12, 1918. Irene Cronin was Ellie Cronin Davis’s sister. Ellie was born on May 31, 1885. There is some discrepancy in my Grandfather’s birth year. I always thought it was May 16, 1885. But, according to a letter that my father wrote to his sister Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff in the fall of 1984 (a copy of this letter came to me recently via my Cousin Dee from Tennessee), my father told his sister that on his birth certificate (1915) his father Isaac Luther Davis is recorded as being 32 years old. That is either a mistake on his birth certificate or Isaac Luther was actually born in 1883. To add to the interest in my dad’s birth certificate, the certificate records that my dad was born on February 30, 1915. His birth date is actually February 14, 1915. Of course, obviously, there has never been a February 30 at least not in my memory. So, who knows?

I will close this entry and continue at another time with the others in The Davis Six. Down the road I will mention the children of The Davis Six as far as I can safely go with this blogging since most of the 13 cousins who are the grandchildren of Isaac Luther and Ellie Davis are still very much alive. I have childhood and adult memories of some of these cousins, and I may need to get copyright approval before I get into those stories.

There still remains one more son and three daughters of Andrew Russell. Until next time…Happy Blogging…

Blogger RED

P.S. I pray that this Blogging hasn’t gotten you bogged down too much.

P.P.S. I would like to thank my cousin Dee Wienand Boaz for helping with this information. I consider her a “partner in crime.” Thanks, Dee.

Part II: Nine Generations of the Davis Family (The Family of John and Lydia (Lyon) Davis)

The Family of John and Lydia (Lyon) Davis

(adapted from A Cloud of Witnesses—see asterisk note at bottom of this entry)

“Our branch of the family came to Alabama from North Carolina. John and Lydia Davis moved to Alabama probably about 1834. They were both born in N.C. John Davis is believed to have been the son of William Davis, who married in 1782 probably in N.C. and he served as a Private in the N.C. cavalry in the American Revolution. William came to Alabama in 1833 and lived in Greene County. He was 73 years old.

John Davis married “Lydday” Lyon in Granville District, N.C., December 26, 1812. The marriage was recorded as Bond No. 3861 with Zach Lyon, Lydia’s brother, acting as Bondsman. According to records of Rev. F. S. Moseley, Eutaw, Alabama, her parents were John and Lydia Lyon of Granville District, N. C. and her brothers and sisters were Elkanah, John M. Clement, Zachariah, William, James, and Sarah.

John Davis was born about 1784 and his wife Lydia Lyon was born about 1793. Their oldest child is believed to have been named William and was born about 1814. The family appears in the 1840 census of Perry County, Alabama…

John and Lydia Davis settled in Alabama in the northwest corner of Perry County in what we have chosen to call “Perry’s Township 23.” In later years it seems he moved southward to the Liberty Community in Township 22 where many of his descendants later lived. He and his wife had a fairly large family, and many of their children had large families. Thus, their descendants are quite numerous.”* (pages 65 and 66)

One of the sons of John and Lydia Davis was Edward W. Davis. “Edward W. Davis was born in North Carolina in the year 1829. He married Julia Ann Lawson of Havana, Alabama. Julia was born about 1832 in Georgia. Confederate military records show that Edward W. Davis enlisted in the C.S.A. army at Havana, Alabama on March 28, 1862. He served as a Private…Military records reported that Edward was 5ft. 11 ½ in. tall, had fair complexion, blue eyes and black hair. He became ill in the service and was allowed to go home. He died just before he reached home or soon afterward. His widow filed a death claim with the C.S.A. Treasury on Feb. 10, 1863. Some thought he was buried at Liberty Church in Hale County, Alabama; others thought he was buried at Havana. The grave is unmarked.”* (page 79)

Andrew Russell Davis was the son of Edward W. Davis and Julia Ann Lawson. Andrew Russell Davis was born in 1857 and died in 1942. He was around six years old when his father Edward W. Davis died as a result of illness contracted during his military service for the C.S.A. Illness was a major factor for deaths among soldiers during the American Civil War. Andrew Russell Davis or “Pa Davis,” as my father called his grandfather, was a medical doctor. He was said to have delivered every baby in Hale County, Alabama during the tenure of his practice. I’m sure there was hyperbole in the statement, but people a half a generation older than I could attest to a “heap of chil’lun” being brought into this world by Doctor Davis. Dr. Davis married Josephine Ryan who was the daughter of John B. Ryan and Cynthia Wilson Ryan. Josephine was born in 1859 and died in 1942. Both Andrew and Josephine were buried in the cemetery on the hill about ½ mile south of Moundville, Alabama (Oakhill Cemetery?). Six of their seven children survived into adulthood. This included three sons and three daughters. A seventh child died as an infant. (Next entry: Six Davis Children, The Legacy of Dr. Andrew Russell Davis and Josephine Ryan Davis.)

*A Cloud of Witnesses by Herman Floyd Johnston, published 1973

Part I: Nine generations of the Davis Family

Beget, Begat, Begotten

Nine generations of the Davis Family

William Davis (married 1782)

Begat

John Davis (c. 1784)

Begat

Edward Davis (1829-1862 ?)

Begat

Andrew Russell Davis (1857-1942)

Begat

Isaac Luther Davis, Sr. (1885- 1963)

Begat

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. (1915-1985)

Begat

Ronald Evan Davis (1944-

Begat

Isaac Samuel Davis (1980-

Begat

Braylon Evan Davis (2006-

Our grandson Braylon Evan Davis has 2 parents

4 grandparents

8 great grandparents

16 great, great grandparents

32 great, great, great grandparents

64 great, great, great, great grandparents

124 great, great, great, great, great grandparents

256 great, great, great, great, great, great grandparents.

One of those great, great, great, great, great, great grandparents was probably William Davis (married 1782). William Davis was at the top of the nine generations of “begetting.” If one adds Braylon’s parents and his 256 (6 greats) grandparents plus all the grandparents in between, he has a total of 512 from whom he is descended. Add all of the aunts, uncles and cousins from these families and you have “one heap of people.”

The next entry will begin a pieced together story of some of our grandson’s ancestors as discovered in the book entitled “A Cloud of Witnesses” by Herman Floyd Johnston which was published in 1973. Other sources of information will be from what I remember my parents (Cronin and Evelyn Davis) telling me as well as some information from a cassette recording of an interview I had with Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff during a visit to Oklahoma on April 8 of 1997. The interview mostly concerned Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff’s father and mother and her siblings.

Until next time…

Blogger RED

"The Bells of St. Mary"

"The Bells of St. Mary"

Going north along Lemoyne Place to Old Shell Road and turning left or west, one goes approximately one block to Lafayette Street and Old Shell Road. At the southwest corner of this juncture in 1867 not long after the Civil War and when Mobile was in the midst of reconstruction, the second bishop of the Diocese of Mobile, Bishop John Quinlan, saw the need for a parish to be built in the western section of Mobile. The original St. Mary Church was constructed between 1867-1868. Later, by 1926, the parish had tremendous growth with two daughter churches being birthed during those short 60 years with much of the growth being in the first two decades of the 20^th century. Construction of a new building was begun in 1926 and completed in 1928. The old church building was moved across the street to become the parish hall. The cream colored stucco walls with the red tiled roof gives the structure a stateliness that is majestic to look at especially with the campanile that stretches out toward the sky and houses the glorious set of cast bells that not only call the congregation to worship but also announces the segments of each day with quarter hour strikes.

I vividly remember my first encounter with the bells. On the first morning of one of our trips to Big Daddy’s home, I was awakened at 6:00 a.m. with the ringing of the Angelus bell and then the subsequent ringing of all the bells which culminates the recitation of scriptures which commemorate the incarnation of the Son of God. The pattern is to ring three long tolls of one bell only. During the first set of tolls, one recites:

V. The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary.
R. And she conceived of the Holy Spirit.

Then, a second group of three tolls with the following recited:

V. Behold the handmaid of the Lord.
R. Be it done unto me according to thy word.

Then, a third toll in the same manner as above.

V. And the Word was made Flesh.
R. And dwelt among us.

At this point the belfry comes alive with ringing jubilation as the following prayer reminds us of that great event and its significance for those in Christ.

LET US PRAY

Pour forth, we beseech Thee, O Lord, Thy grace into our hearts, that we to whom the Incarnation of Christ Thy Son was made known by the message of an angel, may by His Passion and Cross be brought to the glory of His Resurrection. Through the same Christ Our Lord. Amen.

This devotion and remembrance is repeated at noon and then again at 6:00 p.m. During the Easter Season a different text is recited.

Hearing the bells ringing as the sound filtered through the porthole window of the attic of my grandfather’s home impressed in my soul a love for this heavenly sound. I remember it clearly as though the event took place yesterday. From then on the tolling of bells took on a significance that was more than an emotion. Even as a young child, there was a realization that our lives revolved around this sacred event, the Incarnation, and not around our busy play times or activities. I could not wait for noon to come after I found out that the Angelus was strategically carved into the day.

(St. Bernard Abbey Church, Alabama now has more than one bell.)

Over the years, a church’s belfry became even more significant as I pursued a monastic vocation at St. Bernard Abbey in Alabama as well as spending one year at Subiaco Abbey in Arkansas. The belfry at St. Bernard Abbey housed only one bell at that time, but it routinely called all to prayer each day, rang in the celebration of great feast days, and tolled the funeral of deceased brethren. The bell tower at Subiaco Abbey was larger than St. Mary’s campanile. There were four huge cast bells that were even christened with names of long ago saints. Subiaco was set on a hillside in western Arkansas, and I remember having to adjust to the quarter hour and hour tolling that never ceased. Even during the wee hours of night, the bells announced the flow of time through the hour glass of each person’s life who was present on that hill as well as those down in the village of Subiaco.

(Subiaco Abbey Bell Tower at night.)

(Subiaco Abbey aerial view.)

As recently as this past July when our congregation presented a vacation Bible school for the area children, bells rang at that event. The VBS was held in Corunna, Michigan in the historic village park adjacent to the town. An historic church building had been moved to the park several years ago where it is used primarily for weddings. The vacation Bible school had its opening and closing sessions in the little German Lutheran Church building which had been moved from its original location in Saginaw County to its location 20 miles south at the county seat of Shiawassee County in Corunna, Michigan. There was never a doubt in my mind who would ring the bell in this little church for the opening and closing of each day.

(German Lutheran Church in Corunna Historic Park.)

The bells of St. Mary still ring in my memory. When my wife and I attended a family reunion of the Connick family (the descendants of Aunt Mame Cronin Connick) in Mobile during the summer of 2002, we drove by St. Mary Church after we had driven by my grandfather’s home that was only around the block from the church. It was almost noon. I wanted my wife to hear the sound of the Angelus. We were not disappointed.

(Two views of 58 Lemoyne Place. Click on the pictures and notice the #58 on the kick board of the top step.)

My Grandparents' Home at 58 Lemoyne Place, Mobile, Alabama Part III

My Grandparents’ Home

58 Lemoyne Place

Mobile, Alabama

Part III

My grandfather was a pharmacist and at one time he owned drug stores in the Mobile area. He was, of course, a compounding pharmacist which meant he mixed the pharmaceuticals to the specifications of the prescribing physician. He didn’t count pills and scrape them into a bottle or reach on the shelf for an already prepared prescription. All prescriptions would be customized for each patient. Thankfully, in the U.S. today, there is a resurgence of compounding pharmacies. Most people who hear of these pharmacies look upon them with suspect eyes as though there is something improper being mixed behind the counter. It is the same way with organic farming. Organic farming is NOT some new twist to a New Age religion. It is farming the way it was done 100 years ago. I remember when Big Daddy (my grandfather was so named to distinguish him from (Little) Daddy, my father whose physical stature was that of the Cronins and not of the Davises) complained in his latter years of work that pharmacists had been relegated to counting pills instead of making them.

My grandmother (Ellie) had a sister named Bess. She had been married to Dr. Carl Thuringer, and they had lived in St. Cloud, Minnesota where Uncle Carl had a medical practice. After Bess and Carl divorced, Aunt Bess moved back to the Mobile area. Her brother-in-law (my grandfather) encouraged her to pursue her training to become a pharmacist herself. Eventually, Aunt Bess became the first female registered pharmacist in Alabama. Bess was quite a character and is worthy of her own separate story of which I may be unqualified to write. If some of you out there have remembrances of Aunt Bess, feel free to use the comment feature of this blog or e-mail me and I’ll place them on the blog.

A picture of Andrew Russell Davis, MD, the father of my grandfather Isaac Luther Davis

As children we loved visiting our grandparents’ home at LeMoyne Place. The attic alone was enough to keep one busy. We were allowed to play in the attic and explore all the nooks and crannies except for the area where our Uncle I.L. (Isaac Luther) had his living space. The attic had that typical “attical” ambience with the subdued lighting. The filtered light from the few windows gave a shadowed hue which made the space rather mysterious and magical. It invited exploration. Album after album of family pictures were stored in the attic Ancestors who had long been forgotten paraded themselves on page after page. Former high school sweethearts and crushes had verses written to them as though these puppy romances were made in heaven and would be eternal. I found an autograph book that belonged to my dad’s older sister, Mary Lucille. Years later when it came into my parents’ possession, we enjoyed reading the comments from the days of the flappers of the 1920’s. It was a chronicle of the social events of 1926 as well as who was ogling whom in those high school days before the Market Crash of 1929.

There was a regulator clock that hung from one of the square pillars that held up the roof. It long since had done its final ticking and was awaiting “the resurrection of the dead” which finally happened when my parents rescued all of the Lemoyne Place contents in a mad dash to save family heirlooms and pictures when the house was going to be sold (contents and all) following my grandmother Irene’s death in 1966. The clock had been in a drug store that my grandfather had owned, and it had faithfully ticked and watched over the countless customers who enjoyed a cherry coke at the soda fountain that was part of every drugstore in those days. The wrought iron, marbled-topped tables and matching wrought iron chairs with wooden bottoms were the mainstay at the soda fountain. The chairs were never comfortable to sit in due to the filigree, wrought-iron backs that only seemed to be a branding iron to one’s back instead of much needed comfort.

In our own town back in Tuscaloosa, Alabama there was another drug store next to the Bama Theater that had an identical look as the one in Mobile. In fact, it was owned by another Luther Davis who was a first or second cousin of my grandfather Luther Davis. The Tuscaloosa Luther somehow recognized us as being related to his cousin in Mobile. I thought it was interesting that somebody that I didn’t know was aware of who I was without us being introduced. Whenever it was time to pay for a fountain drink, he said not to worry since someone had already paid for our refreshment. He even gave us free coupons to come back and enjoy a cherry coke. As I learned later, it was an easy thing to spot a “Davis” boy since there were six of us, and we did favor each other as well as our parents. Out of the blue someone would come up to one of us and say, “You are Cronin and Evelyn’s boy, aren’t you?” I didn’t see the resemblance at the time, but now for the past many years since my own father’s death (1985), I have the same dragging-of-the heels gait about the way I walk. It is most evident and confirming as I walk through snow. It wouldn’t take much to identify my tracks in the snow. My facial features are stamped with the Elliott stock that I inherited from my mother. Even as an adult, when we returned to Alabama for vacations, my mother’s sisters (my aunts) would say, “Yep, he sure looks like Uncle Hunter.” I never met Uncle Hunter Elliott who happened to be my mother’s uncle and my great uncle, but when I was shown a picture of Uncle Hunter, I had to agree that I did favor him. Consequently, with this easy recognition, not much could be done in secret since everyone seemed to know you even if you didn’t know them. Oh, the woes of growing up in a small town even though Tuscaloosa was not a small town.

Incidentally, the regulator clock was fixed by my parents and graced their den for many years. It was a 31-day clock and even to this day keeps excellent time. My youngest brother inherited the clock in the “luck” of the draw at the time of the dispersing of our parents’ estate. (To be continued in the next entry that will be entitled, “The Bells of St. Mary.”)

My Grandparents' Home at 58 Lemoyne Place, Mobile, Alabama Part II

My Grandparents’ Home

58 Lemoyne Place

Mobile, Alabama

Part II

Grandfather Isaac Luther Davis, Sr.

Back to the vacation…I remember two or three visits to Lemoyne Place during the vacation times. The home had two bedrooms downstairs. There was a living room and dining room that adjoined. The four rooms were like four spokes that were joined to a central hub which supported a central chimney and serviced a fireplace (coal burning) in each of the four rooms. (In the picture of the home you can see the chimney with its four attending flue openings at the
top.) My parents took the bedroom near the shotgun shaped bathroom which had a door that opened into their bedroom as well as a door that opened from the dining room. A footed bathtub, sink, and commode were seated on black and white, hexagonal inlaid tiles. The only light in the bathroom was a light bulb that was suspended from the ceiling via the electrical wiring. A pull chain made the light operable. My grandfather slept in the front bedroom. His wife Irene had been hospitalized long ago. (This is a separate story in itself and must be saved for another time.) The dining room was connected to the kitchen at the back of the house by a maid’s pantry which was a short hallway that had built-in cupboards for food and pantry storage. Heavy, fabric curtains hung from ceiling to floor on thick, wooden drapery rods so that the pantry storage was hidden from view and not visible from the dining room or kitchen. The kitchen was long and narrow and sparely furnished. The linoleum floor and high ceiling amplified the rattling of dishes and banging of pots and pans. The kitchen was a beehive of cacophony even with just a single occupant. The heavy drapery on either side of the pantry hall served a double purpose.

We slept “upstairs” which was entered by exiting the door which was on the north side of the kitchen onto a screened-in porch that had faded, green lattice work adorning the screen panels of the porch. The steep stairway was open on both sides with no “kick” panels to keep your feet from slipping through the steps. Since there was no hand rail for steadying the ascent to the attic, there was always a risk of stumbling upwards or tumbling downwards. Once on the landing of this attic-like second floor, one entered a room that spanned the dimensions of the downstairs floor plan. Wooden, square pillars were spaced throughout the attic which was totally finished with hardwood floors and plaster walls. On the south side of the room, a double hung window looked out over the grass covered driveway that lead to a one car, detached garage which looked more like a carriage house than a garage. At the front of the room was another double hung window which was rendered inoperable due to the numerous coats of paint that had sealed this second floor tomb into a chamber of stale air that had the “fragrance” of aged flooring and musty trunks. On one side of the front window in the gable of the roof there was a porthole window that could be unlatched and swung open for some imaginary ventilation in this Nebuchadnesser styled furnace.

Our uncle I.L. (the initials stood for Isaac Luther), was my father’s half brother and he still lived at home at the time we visited. He occupied a portion of the attic that was designated as his living space. In other words, it was off limits to all of us who slept in the attic. I.L. was a handsome man who worked at the National Bank in downtown Mobile. Since his siblings had produced 13 grandchildren, Uncle I.L. was an uncle to a heap of kids. We looked up to him for a lot of reasons—the candy he would give us, his attentive smile, his teasing manner and also because he had been in the Army during the War. We had often admired these pictures of him in his army uniform. The War was still in the living memory of most people and their children. We had pictures of him in our own family albums as well. We usually saw I. L. only at breakfast since he worked long hours at the bank, and he didn’t come home until late at night. We would be awakened at night by his snoring but that never bothered us.

There were a couple of double beds in the attic and the kids piled onto the feather mattresses which were on top of exposed, wobbly bed springs. After a night of tossing and turning due to the compression of the heat and no ventilation, one felt like he had been on a transcontinental stagecoach ride without any stops along the way. We would awake bleary-eyed and totally sweat-drenched to begin our trek down the steep steps into the kitchen where our mother would be preparing a wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, grits, and toast that was toasted only on one side and slathered with enough butter to clog your coronary arteries in just one bite. (to be continued with the next entry)

My Grandparents' Home at 58 Lemoyne Place, Mobile, Alabama Part I

My Grandparents’ Home

58 Lemoyne Place

Mobile, Alabama

Part I

My paternal grandfather, Isaac Luther Davis, Sr. lived at 58 Lemoyne Place in Mobile, Alabama for as long as I knew him. I don’t know if he ever lived any other place after he married my grandmother, Ellie Cronin Davis on January 30, 1907. Lemoyne Place is the only memory I have. Older brothers and cousins may know of other dwellings that our grandparents may have inhabited, but I never remember them or my parents speaking of another domicile. Even if there were other homes, they would not have compared, I can imagine, to 58 Lemoyne Place. The street address itself had a magical ring to it. I read somewhere that the Le Moyne brothers from Mobile’s past history contributed to the city in some significant way, and thus, a street commemorates their contribution. That is the way of local history. As generations come and go, we forget the whys and wherefores of those who have contributed to our future.

Lemoyne Place is a short street between the long avenues of Dauphin Street and Old Shell Road. Old Shell Road is the northern boundary and Dauphin Street is the southern boundary. Around the corner from my grandfather’s home at the corner of Old Shell Road and North Lafayette Street was the Neo-Spanish, stucco church of St. Mary’s. St. Mary’s Parish was the hub of the neighborhood with its attending elementary school where my two older brothers commenced their education during the beginning days of WWII. Nearby was McGill Institute which was a college preparatory high school for boys. When one attended McGill for all four years, his entire being would have been fortified with a classic education from Caesar’s Gallic Wars, Cicero and Virgil to all of the liberal arts. My father graduated from McGill in 1933. That was the extent of his formal education, but I guarantee that he knew more and understood more in 1933 than most of our college graduates do 74 years later.

There were three children born to the marriage of Luther and Ellie: Mary Lucille, Margery, and Cronin. My grandmother Ellie died in 1916 when my father was a little over a year old. His father Luther would later marry his first wife’s sister. Luther and Aunt Irene (as the children called her at first) had a son who was named Isaac Luther Davis, Jr. Prior to the birth of I. L, Jr., Aunt Irene requested that the three children begin calling her Mother since the new brother would be confused to hear his siblings calling his mother Aunt Irene. From then on it was Mother.

Since I am the fourth of six sons, my three oldest brothers would have earlier memories of Lemoyne Place since our parents during the early years of their marriage lived with my grandparents. The date that our parents moved the family to Green Street in Chickasaw, Alabama is beyond my memory. But, the older two brothers started school at St. Mary’s Elementary School at whatever age they were eligible. It seems that I remember one of them telling me that he started school at four years old.

As I youngster my parents would take us during the summer on a “vacation” to Mobile. If you have ever lived in the South, you know that August is one of the hottest months of the year. My mother once commented to me that children never seemed to feel the heat of the day. That may have been true since our summer attire was usually short pants, no shirt or shoes. We did take a bath each night to be rid of all the sweat beads under our arms and neck as well as every other crease in our tanned and untanned hides. We were bad to get chiggers as I later learned to call “red bugs.” Red bugs were plentiful where we lived and one always acquired more than one needed as we played outside all day in the wooded areas near our rented home. Red bugs would infest a little body in no time, and they had to be “picked” off in the evening or one would suffer an itch that made a flea bite seem like gnat bite. Chiggers had a way of boring into the folds of skin especially in the unmentionable places and then would “hold” on until your mother searched them out at nightfall. One’s modesty fell by the wayside quickly in order to get relief from these tenacious little buggers. (To be continued with next entry,)

This Is The Man (a perpetual versification)

This is the Man

Who drove the Van

To pick up the Kids

Who had the Lids

To put on the Jars

Of jam in the Cars

That were parked on the Hill

Near the old Windmill

That made the Flour

Which was sold every Hour

To bake the Bread

For the woman who Wed

The Man

Who drove the Van….

RED©1983

Jibbidy-F and ACE, a way to remember the lines and spaces of the Grand Staff

Below is the cover of a piano book that I have used over the years with beginning students. It was this book that taught me a new way to teach students how to remember the letter names of the bass and treble staff lines and spaces. As you may be know, there are various methods used to teach the names of notes on the staff. Most of the time the student learns sentences that name the lines and spaces of both bass and treble clefs. For the treble clef lines sentences like "Every Good Boy Does Fine," "Every Girl Bakes Delicious Fudge," "Empty Garbage Before Dad Flips" are used. The spaces for the treble clef spell the word "FACE." For the bass clef lines, sentences like "Good Boys Do Fine Always" and "Great Big Dreams For America are used. The spaces are connected to the sentence "All Cows Eat Grass" or "All Cars Eat Gas."

What I find, however, is that the student may learn the lines and spaces using sentences but he/she, most often, forgets which sentence goes with which clef. In the book pictured, the lines and spaces are all learned at once by using clever "characters" name "Jibbidy-F" and "ACE."

I have included a "poem" to help illustrate what the book teaches.

Jibiddy-F and ACE

Jibbidy-F and ACE

Are my musical friends you see.

Keep them in mind

When you want to know the grand staff lines.

Jibbidy-F and ACE.

Remember to start at the bottom of the staff

With a G-sound as in giraffe.

Quickly say the letters

Until the note is found.

Jibiddy-F and Ace help us to remember better.

RED©1985

As illustrated above on the second grand staff, all the spaces of the staff are learned by starting with ACE and then GBDF.

The following staff illustrates only the lines by repeating the letters across the lines.

Practice and learn the names of both the lines and spaces of the grand staff. Let me know if you have success.

“Love's Long-Lasting Look for Today”

“Love's Long-Lasting Look for Today”

Slick covers say youthful looks

And sleek bodies are to be worshiped

In fleeting moments of

Sage less, ever-severing

Meeting of the sexes.

All are tempted to buy stock

In glossy, commercial fiction

Yielding no dividend,

No deposit, no return

Reality of dead ends.

Look around with eyes made

To see beyond what is seen

To find love springing up

From years of plowing, planting,

Harvesting the fruit from lives clinging to REALITY.

So many years are such a short time.

No time wasted on tomorrow

Or yesterday

When all you have is today—

Now-Time is time to lavish love.

Love’s beauty never fades,

For when it was first seen,

It was seen—Beautiful--

Ageless beauty,

Ever-present Loveliness.

“Friend and Companion,

Wealth untold is heaped

Upon this union when there is

None to lend or

To spend.”

Time is with these Dear Ones

For they have loved more

Today than Yesterday

And Todays always build

Better Tomorrows.

RED©2/27/1985

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

No recollection of non-existence.

Consciousness always present.

Even in sleep

The mental workings never cease.

Observation reveals that

Life has a beginning

And it has transition

In death.

Spirit, mind, and body

Work together to produce

Joys, thoughts, pleasures

Untold.

The triumvirate resists

Each other and

Sorrow, sin, and pain

Abound.

“Deep calls to deep…,”

“Fearfully and wonderfully

Are we made.”

A chasm needs filling.

The Creator, the God

Of the Universe,

Seeks out the

Human heart.

A marriage is celebrated.

A sabbath’s rest is proclaimed.

Redemption is accomplished.

The old gives way to the new.

Who am I?

In me I see a reflection

Of His glory,

A yearning to see Him fully.

A hope is placed within me.

A partnership is established.

In spite of needed refinements,

I am covered with eternal assurance.

Life is worth living!

Routines are the active ingredients.

Mountaintops are reflections

Of the finished product.

Who am I?

I am

Fearfully and

Wonderfully made!

RED©1983