death
When I think of my husband, Bob’s 6th great grandmother, Jean Gracy Knox, I always think of Ellen O’Hara…Scarlett O’Hara’s mother, in Gone With The Wind. They lived in different eras, but in many ways, their lives were much the same. I can’t say, for certain, that Jean Knox lived on a plantation, but I do know that like many people in the 1700’s she owned slaves. With that in mind, I have to assume that she ran their home or plantation in much the way that Ellen O’Hara had. I don’t know much about her, of course, but her will seemed to be written by a woman who was used to being in charge. I know that she was a slave owner, because in her will, she mentions what is to be done with a young slave boy and a female slave that she owned. That and the extensive collection of clothing that she left her daughter, Mary indicates that she was a woman of wealth.
It’s possible that her “take charge” attitude came from the fact that her husband passed away fourteen years before she did, and six months before their youngest child was born. She had no choice but to take charge of things. She still had five children under the age of sixteen in her home. I’m certain that her older sons helped her out too, but from what I have gathered from her will, she was very much in control of her life, children, and property. I wish I had a picture of her, but in my mind, she probably looked much like Ellen O’Hara did, in Gone With The Wind. Beautiful, and very ladylike, and yet, she ran the household and even helped out the neighbors when necessary. Of course, I could be wrong on all that, but from what I have read of her will, she knew exactly what she wanted done after her passing. The will appears to have been written just days before her death. They assumed this from the fact that she made her mark on it, and not her signature, even though she could read and write. In looking at the will, of which I only have a word for word copy of the wording as it was written…including all the spelling errors, I at first thought that maybe she couldn’t read and write, but later discovered that it was not written by her. She just dictated it to someone else to write up and then signed it in front of witnesses, much like we would do today in front of a attorney. This could also have been an indication of wealth, and the power that one assumes to have because of it.
I also know, that Jean was a woman of strong faith. She was a Presbyterian, and most likely left her native Ireland because of disputes between the Presbyterians, also known as Covenanters, and the Church of England. The Knox family is among those who were persecuted because of their religion, and that some had to leave their homes in the middle of the night to escape death. They came to America seeking religious freedom. That in itself would take a person of strong character, and may have been part of what made Jean Gracy Knox into a woman who was well able to handle the things that came her way. Jean’s life was not long, by today’s standards anyway, but in that day and age, she did live a long time, and it is my opinion that she also did a lot of living during her lifetime. I’m sure that I will never really know the whole story of her life, but I will always believe that she was quite a lady.
When I come across a husband and wife, who both died on the same day, my curiosity kicks into overdrive. That just seems so unusual. Nevertheless, such was the case for my husband, Bob’s 4th great grandparents, Cloudsbury and Elizabeth Kirby, both of whom died on August 29, 1878 in Mount Ayr, Ringgold County, Iowa. At first, I wondered if it was an error, and I suppose it could be, but that is the information I have at this point, so that is what I have to go with.
My first thought was to check for disasters in the area, like tornados, fires, or floods, but I was unable to find anything that specifically happened in Mount Ayr, Iowa on August 29, 1878. Looking for these kinds of specific things can be a long and frustrating process, but I just can’t imagine too many situations where both halves of a couple would pass on the same day. I searched and found that there were tornadoes during that year, but nothing specifically on that day, so I doubt that a tornado is the culprit here.
When the possibility of a disaster was removed, I began to think about illness, so I looked up and epidemics in the area. That is when I came across a definite possibility…the Yellow Fever Epidemic of 1876 to 1878, which took many lives in the southern United States. Yellow fever, known historically as yellow jack or yellow plague is an acute viral disease, that is usually spread by the female mosquito. Symptoms include fever, chills, loss of appetite, nausea, muscle pains particularly in the back, and headaches. Many people improve after a few days, but when the symptoms return, they can cause kidney damage, liver failure (causing yellow skin, probably the reason for the name Yellow Fever), bleeding, and ultimately death. These days there is a vaccine against Yellow Fever and some countries require it for travelers. Other countries try to control the virus by killing off as many mosquitoes as possible. Nevertheless, Yellow Fever causes 200,000 infections and 30,000 deaths every year with nearly 90% of those occurring in Africa, these days. Since the 17th century, several major outbreaks have occurred in America, Africa, and Europe. In the 18th and 19th centuries yellow fever was seen as the most dangerous of infectious diseases.
I can’t say for sure that Yellow Fever is what took the lives of Bob’s 4th great grandparents, but with the epidemic that occurred during that time, I have to think that it is a possibility. I have looked at the lists of people know to have died of Yellow Fever during that epidemic, and did not see Cloudsbury and Elizabeth Kirby on the list, but the list was incomplete, with many people only listed as a number. At this time, unless more information somehow surfaces, I will probably never know for sure, but the epidemic, which apparently came in from Cuba caused 100,000 people to become ill, and killed 20,000 people, so it is likely that they were too busy, trying to help people get better, to keep really great records as to the names of the dead. I have to feel really sorry for people of that time. They didn’t really know what was causing the epidemic and would not have had a way to do much about it anyway, so many lives were lost. Thankfully for the people of this century, Yellow Fever can be prevented by vaccination, and it is usually found in Africa, so we don’t really see much of it here.
When a young life ends, there are always far more questions than answers. It is simply incomprehensible to think that the son, dad, brother, and grandson that you thought would always be around, is suddenly gone. When we found out yesterday, that Bob’s first cousin once removed, Brian Scott Kountz passed away at 9:45 pm on June 21, 2014, it was such a hard day. Brian was Bob’s cousin, Sandi Kountz’ oldest son, and he had a brother, Kyler Avey and a sister, Destreyia Cannon. He was the first grandchild of Bob’s aunt, Margee Kountz. He will also be missed by his uncle, Dan Kountz and cousins, Zech and Stasi Kountz, and extended family and friends.
When someone passes away, it seems like the memories that lived only in your memory files, start coming to the surface. Memories like the ones Stasi has of how Brian lit up a room by simply walking into it. He had a great laugh, and he touched the hearts of all who knew him. One of the favorite memories Stasi has of Brian is watching “Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air” and eating Mac and Cheese together. It isn’t necessarily the major life events that hold a special place in our 
hearts, but rather the moments that seem to stay with us forever, after losing a loved one.
I think a lot of us will remember Brian for his old cars. He always seemed to have a car that was like a big clunky boat. And that was just fine with him. He might have a rusty Cadillac or an old Blazer, but he didn’t care. He loved those old cars, and as a young man of only 24 years of age, maybe they were also what he could afford. He had a tendency to go 4 wheeling with his SUV, and that was probably not the best thing for the car, but like all kids, there were priorities…and then there were priorities, and adventure was simply a priority. Mechanics and cars were of great interest to Brian. He was taking mechanics classes at the time of his death, and his future plan was to open his own shop. He was happy. His life was taking shape and before long, he would be a successful businessman.
Even though he was like all kids in the things that he liked to do, his family was the top priority in his mind. Brian took being the oldest child very seriously. He was a good big brother, who would give the shirt off his back for his brother and sister. He was especially 
close to his little sister, Destreyia, which is typical of lots of big brothers. I’m sure they had their moments when they fought like cats and dogs, but when it came to anyone else picking on his little sister…look out, because he would do whatever it took to protect her. There were so many things that bonded them together. Brian was her rock, and she was his sunshine. For Brian’s mom, Sandi, he was her first born, and like all moms, each child has their special characteristics. Each one holds a special place in their heart. Sandi has always seen the potential that Brian had, and she was his biggest cheerleader. She encouraged him to take the mechanics classes, and she knew that he would be a big success when his training was over. The hardest thing about today is knowing that all Brian’s plans and dreams are over now…his future no longer exists. Rest in peace Brian. We love and miss you already.
Time flies by so fast sometimes, and suddenly we find ourselves a year out from an event that shook our world…the death of a loved one. It was one year ago today that my father-in-law, Walter Schulenberg passed away. He was a quiet, gentle man who loved his family more than anything else in the world. He hated the years when his job took him away from the family, because watching his children grow up was so important to him. From the time they were dating, he talked about when they would start having children. He knew that he wanted a little girl, just like his soon to be sister-in-law, Margee, who was just six months old when they got married. Of course, he wanted sons too, but he was smitten with those girls, and while his boys were his helpers, and he was very proud of both of them; his little girls were always his little princesses. That seems to be the way life is for daddies of daughters, and he was no exception to that rule.
I never met someone who was more excited to be a grandfather. When I was pregnant with Corrie, his first grandchild, he seemed to have been transferred back all those years to when his children were little. He often asked me how I was doing. He wanted to be sure I was comfortable…because I was carrying his first little grandbaby. He made it such an honor, both times I was pregnant. His children and grandchildren were so important in his life. In fact they 
were the most important things in his life…with one exception…the love of his life, my mother-in-law, Joann Knox Schulenberg.
From the time they started dating, he knew that there was no other girl for him. I have had the opportunity to read some of the letters they wrote back and forth while they were dating, and he was working in another town. He wanted nothing more than to marry her and take care of her for the rest of his life…and that was exactly what he did. All those years that they were together, he made sure she had what she needed. When she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease, he gave up much of what he would like to have done, so he could take care of her. She was his world, and to him, giving up a few little things to make sure she was going to be alright, was only natural. As the years flew by, he devoted more and more time to taking care of her, and did more than he should have in those later years…I couldn’t get him to stop overdoing it. To him, it was so important that she was always going to be ok.
The hardest thing I think he ever had to do was when we had to put her in the nursing home. It had become obvious that we couldn’t keep her safe at home, and there was no other option. He really took that hard. He was so lonely. We did our best to take him to see her, but that was hard on him too. Then he went through a series of hospital stays in a short period of time, and they left him very weak. The hospital suggested that he go into a nursing home, and he was very much against it…at first. Then I talked to the nursing home my mother-in-law was in, and they said they could take him too and they could share a room. It was a perfect plan. He could see her, stay with her, and make sure she was alright, all while he was taken care of too. It seemed the perfect plan, and in a way, I guess it was…except for the fact that he just 
couldn’t bounce back from those bouts in the hospital, and would return 3 more times before it was over. The thing that was good for him was the fact that, not only could he be near the love of his life, but before he left us, he was able to see that she would be alright. He could see that the staff took good care of her. That last year was a really hard one for my father-in-law. He was getting tired of fighting COPD. It was a fight for every breath, and he knew he was losing that fight. Still, he could not go, without knowing that those he loved…especially the love of his life, were going to be ok. Dad left us a year ago today, and while we know that he isn’t suffering anymore, we still miss him very much. We love you Dad.
Sometimes in families, there can be enough years in between the oldest child and the youngest child, that it is almost like having two or more families. My parents family was that way to a degree. My sister Cheryl and I were the oldest, 2 years apart, and 3 years after I was born, came my three little sisters, 2 years apart each. It wasn’t so much that there was such a difference, but it was enough of a difference so that Cheryl and I always called our younger sisters the three little girls…and so did our parents. My friend, Ambra, has a similar situation with her family, and she calls the youngest children, the littles, which I think is very cute. My mother’s family had nine children, and to a degree, at least while they were growing up, there seemed to be three families. The oldest three girls, my mom and her brothers, and the youngest three girls….and my Aunt Bonnie was the oldest of the youngest.
Being the oldest, even if it is only the oldest of the youngest kids, puts that child in a place of being looked up to. You are the cool one, and for girls, always the prettier, more sophisticated one…even if that’s not really so, because all my aunts are very pretty. Nevertheless, it always seems that way. I think I can understand why Aunt Dixie and Aunt Sandy would look up to Aunt Bonne, because she has always been a sweetheart. Her kindness is well known in the family, and the many times she has given a gift that was so priceless, in the form of the most beautiful wedding cakes and she wouldn’t take money for them…that’s priceless, and it will never be forgotten. and it has endeared her to all the family. But it wasn’t just what she could do for you that made Aunt Bonnie so wonderful. There was so much more.
For many years she took care of her husband, my Uncle Jack’s mom, and then she took care of Uncle Jack too. She made the 
years of their lives wonderful, happy times, and in the last years, she brought comfort. Not everyone can be a caregiver, and having been one myself, I can tell you that it is a hard job, but you do it for love. And that is why Aunt Bonnie was a caregiver. She showed such great strength for so long, she fought hard, doing all she could to hold death at bay, and when death came, she like all caregivers was not ready. Nevertheless, death came and her life was forever changed. But Aunt Bonnie is strong, and while nothing will ever be the same, she carries Uncle Jack with her wherever she goes, and with great strength, she goes forward. Just like he would want her to do…and lives life. Today is Aunt Bonnie’s birthday. Happy birthday Aunt Bonnie!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
Every life and family has its ups and downs, and its major challenges. The way those challenges are handled tells you what kind of a family they really are. Sometimes, the losses, hardships, tragedies, or illnesses can break a family. They fall apart and they are unable to survive as a family. Even if that family survives, it is never the same again, but when a family is dedicated to each other, and wants the very best for each other, they will not only survive, but they will thrive. When a family is filled with love for each other, and they stubbornly refuse to give up, the truly miraculous can happen. Such a family can pick each other up after anything, and turn their lives around so that they are on solid footing again. And they will stick to it, no matter what sacrifices have to be made.
When my great grandmother, Henriette Schumacher was 50, she was struck with debilitating arthritis, that would put her in a wheel chair…off and on at first, but in the end, for fifteen years continuously until her death in 1936. In all, she would spend nineteen years in the wheel chair, during which time, my great grandfather, Carl Schumacher, along with his daughters, Bertha and Elsa took care of her. The girls were so dedicated, that they sacrificed their own chance to have children. Still, they never complained, for as Bertha said, “God gave them the children they missed, in Mina’s little daughter, Paula, and her four dear children.” Henriette never had the chance to feel like she was a burden, because of the love they showed toward her all those years. There were no regrets, because they still had their dear mother.
Bertha and Elsa spent many happy years in the company of Mina and John Spare. They had a great love for their sister and brother-in-law, and later their daughter and grandchildren. Their lives were richly blessed with their niece, and her little babies. After spending many years helping their dad care for their mom, it looked as if they would never marry, and the dream of having children of their own was now long gone. After their dad passed away on January 2, 1933, the girls continued to take care of their mom until her death on July 11, 1936. They stayed for a time in Fargo, North Dakota before moving to Boulder, Colorado. By 1948, both girls were married. Elsa married Frank Lawrence on April 29, 1944 in Boulder, Colorado. 
Bertha married Arthur Hallgren on May 12, 1948 in Boulder Colorado. But, the time for them to have children had come and gone. Then, Arthur Hallgren passed away just three years and seven months after they were married. It was a devastating blow, and Bertha would not marry again, but rather would spend her time with her family, especially her niece, Paula and her children; and writing her wonderful journal so that her legacy could be passed on to so many other family members. I don’t know when Elsa’s husband, Frank passed, but Bertha passed away December 22, 1984 and Elsa passed away November 23, 1992. They may not have had children, but their lives were very important to the family members whose lives were greatly enriched by the dedication of these two amazing women.
When a mother dies young, the family is left to try to put the pieces back together, even though a very important piece of the family will now be forever missing. Theresa Halcyone “Halcy” Davis Freese was a young mother with so much to live for, when she passed away at only 40 years of age. Halcy left a loving husband, Louis Emery Freese, and four children, Vera, who was 14, Buford, who was 10, Myrtle, who was 8, and Florence who was only 4 1/2. It was a lot for a dad, who was going through his own horrible grief, to handle. For Louis, trying to care for his children and still make a living, became almost too much. Thankfully, he had the help of his mother-in-law, Theresa Elizabeth Spencer Davis, to help them all through the pain of loss, and care for the children, when their dad couldn’t, either because of work, or just the deep sadness of losing his beloved Halcy. The children’s aunts and uncles, Halcy’s sisters and brothers helped out too,and they all showed such kindness to the children, that it became something the children would never forget.
Their Uncle Luther, who was courting Lena Timpte at the time, took the children to the Timpte’s bakery to visit Lena. Later the children would spend a lot of time at Luther and Lena’s farm, and they lovingly pointed out that Lena made the best candy!! They would also go to visit their Uncle Reuben and Aunt Maggie, who lived on the “Creek Place”. That was a great place to visit because they could go swimming in the creek. Clifford and Josephine had the farm in the center. There was always an aluminum pitcher on the table full of milk, which is a real treat for “town kids”, and they remarked that “no one can fry potatoes like Aunt Josephine!” Aunt Cassie was always so sweet, and she kept her girls long hair in beautiful curls. She also had a music box they could wind up and listen to…you could see the inner workings too, which was an added bonus. Aunt Ruth took the children on their vacations for years, and made them clothes. She also did so many other things for them over the years that they became too numerous to mention, but were never forgotten.
As these dear aunts and uncles passed away, one by one, Florence, who was Halcy’s youngest daughter, and the author of this portion of Uncle Bill’s Family History, felt the heaviness of loss that she could not feel as a little girl of only 4 1/2 years, when her mother passed away. While she loved her mother very much, these aunts and uncles had stepped in to make her life a happy one in spite of loss, and for that she could never thank them enough.
In June of 1946, my Uncle Bill and Aunt Doris left Wisconsin, for points west. He had no intention of moving back to Wisconsin at that time. They weren’t sure where they wanted to settle, so they tried Idaho, Oregon, California, and Wyoming. Uncle Bill would have loved to stay in California…he said the warm weather suited him. Aunt Doris was homesick, and wanted to be nearer to her family. I can’t say for sure if it was totally Aunt Doris being homesick, or if it was my grandfather becoming ill, with the cancer that would eventually end his life, or a mixture of both. Uncle Bill has indicated the possibility of both being the reason for their return. It doesn’t really matter, but it is my opinion that Uncle Bill could not let his dad go through cancer by himself. I can relate to that quality in him, because I think I inherited it to a degree.
We never really know what events will transpire to change the course of our lives in an instant. We might be just living our lives, making plans for the future, or raising our kids, and then very suddenly we find ourselves in a position to step in when we are needed desperately. It is what we do with that call of duty that can make the difference between life and death for the person in need. Uncle Bill could not stay in Wyoming, where he was at that time, and simply let his dad handle the most horrible experience of his life without the benefit of help from family. He and his wife, my Aunt Doris headed home to Wisconsin, arriving in June of 1950. It was a decision he would never regret, nor did he ever decide to move away from Wisconsin again.
I think we eventually end up where we are supposed to be. Some of us move away from our childhood hometown, never to live there again, while others, like me, never live anywhere but in our childhood hometown, and still others like Uncle Bill, move away, and eventually move back for one reason or another, and never leave again. There must be something that either draws them away or back, or causes them to stay and never move away at all. I suppose the reasons vary as much as the people themselves, and sometimes there seems to be no real reason at all. They just end up in the place that draws them to it. I believe it is that we are in the place where God wants us to be.
Most of us don’t exactly think of the place our grandfather died as being anything that would stick in our minds, but in the case of my great grandfather, William Malrose Spencer, it would seem that it was something that the family thought of often. It wasn’t because he was murdered or anything like that either, which is something that might cause it to stick in your mind. He died a natural death, of a heart attack, after working to haul a bunch of poles up to a fence for repair and construction work he was going to do around the farm in Isabel, Missouri. The date was March 20, 1922, and my great grandfather was only 64 years old. That probably wasn’t considered young at that time, but it really is today. He had always been a hard working man, and probably didn’t take as good care of himself as he did for his family. There were seven children in the family.
By the time my great grandfather died, my grandfather was married and living in Wisconsin. He and 
my grandmother had two children, one, my Uncle Bill was only two months old at the time of his grandfather’s death. Uncle Bill had been his grandfather’s namesake…named William Malrose Spencer II. At some point, my grandfather made the trip back to Missouri to see his mother and find out what had happened. It was a sad trip…his first one home where his dad was not going to be there. I can only imagine how hard that trip was for him. His dad had always been a gentle man loved and respected by all his children. My grandfather, being the oldest and a son, had likely worked along side his dad on many of the projects he had, so I’m sure he felt like maybe if he had been there…to lighten the load or something…maybe his dad would still have been alive. It is something most children, who have lost a parent in such a fashion feel. In 
reality, there would have been nothing he could have done, but I doubt that knowing that would have helped his broken heart any.
As I look at this picture of my grandfather standing there with his mother, and the one with my Uncle Clifford with his mother, I can see by the way they were standing there that they felt such devastation. My heart breaks for both of them. Losing your dad is such a hard thing to go through, but not being there to say goodbye would be even worse. At that point, all you would have is a picture in your imagination, and someone to tell you, “It was right in that spot.”
A couple’s wedding day is quite possibly the most wonderful day of their lives. It is that moment when all their hopes and dreams begin to come to life. The wedding day is quickly behind them and they begin their journey out into the future to build the life of their dreams…but not always. Theirs was a love, young and hopeful. Her family, my great great grandparents, Allen and Lydia Spencer, loved the young man their daughter, Matilda had fallen in love with. They nicknamed him W Biller, although his name was William Beller…it was their way of showing him that they liked him, and they were happy to welcome him into their family. Although their daughter, Matilda was young by today’s standards, at just over 17 years of age, she was of an acceptable age for marriage in 1879, and so she married the man of her dreams, but theirs was not to be the fairytale ending of happily ever after, because in just three short days, Matilda’s life would be over.
The death records would show Brain Fever as the cause of death, and these days few of us would even know what that is. It is a term, not commonly used today, that described one of three illnesses that most of us do understand today…Meningitis, the 
inflammation of the membranes covering the brain and spinal cord; Encephalitis, an acute inflammation of the brain, commonly caused by a viral infection; or Cerebritis, inflammation of the cerebrum. I can’t say which of these diseases caused my great grand aunt’s death, but I can imagine the devastation her husband of only three days felt as his precious bride was taken from his life, leaving him to wonder what had happened, and how he could possibly go on. A young man of just 19 years of age should not have to experience marriage and widowhood within three days of each other…truly, no one should.
As I read the account of the short marriage of my great grand aunt and uncle, I felt the pain he must have felt. Without the knowledge we have today, my guess is that he had no idea that something was terribly wrong. He and his young bride traveled from her home in Webster City, Iowa to their home in Boone, Iowa, just 32 miles away, but when the time came, I’m sure that distance felt like thousands of miles. Getting her parents to her before she passed probably didn’t happen, and he must have felt like he failed her in every way possible…failed them. I’m sure he felt like he should have been able to take better care of their daughter than that, and yet he didn’t know what he could have done, because he had no real idea what had happened. His life had gone from married bliss to lost dreams practically overnight.
It would take him three years to finally move forward with his life, when he would marry 
Nellie Vanderbilt. Their lives would take a different path, and they would have six children. I’m sure he loved her very much, but I have to think that as he was having his second set of wedding pictures taken…in the exact same pose as his first set of wedding pictures, that his mind wandered back, just for a moment…to the bride of his youth, that seemed so far away now. His face looked a little distant…sad even. At 23 years of age, my guess is that he felt old…much older than his age would have you believe, but widowhood at such a young age would do that to a person. I’m happy for him that he had a good life in the end, and yet still sad that he had to live with the lost dreams of his youth hiding there in the back of his mind.
