Marion Co TOC

    While doing research on my family lines, I have come to notice the age of the people of this country. The life span seemed to be fairly short. The majority of the people that I see as heads of the household are from 23 to 45. There are very few in their 60's and 70's. During the ten to twelve years before the Civil War our country seemed to be what we consider today as "young adults" as head of a household. Before that the lives of these people were extremely busy with land, farming and raising their families and this was taking it's toll on the young men and women of that time because it was unbearably hard work for the farmers and their families. The people that were able to buy land and invest and be active in the business end of society were marking off their days on this earth as was the farmer and his wife were without even knowing it. Life itself was taking it's toll of these bright, diligent, energetic people. They, for the most part would all be dead before they reached the age of 50. For an eager nation to grow it took many miles of road, tunnels, ore, railroads, food, crops for clothing, livestock, trees, oil and so many other natural resources and various occupations to supply the needs of it's people. They lived hard lives, even if it was with a suit of clothes and a tie, shirts with fancy cuffs and collars or rough-woven durable fabric for the laborers of various trades and livelyhoods, the pace was hard and fast and worrisome. Most of those that you see listed in the census reports in their 60's, 70's or 80's through the 1860 census, were just stronger, healthier and blessed with longer lives.
    After the Civil War there were fewer young men on the census reports. Most were in their 40s and 50s, some maimed, some crippled, some blind and many that were strong and healthy in 1861, were spent in the few years that the war lasted. They came home old men in the conditions of their bodies and many never regained their health to support their families by being able to carry the whole load of maintaining their farms or trades. The sons of those men learned early how to till and seed the ground, when to harvest, how to manage the few dollars they had or how to present themselves to borrow on next year's crop before they were 18 years old. The tradesmen had an advantage over the farmer when it came to his sons being able to carry on their work, crafty small hands learned quickly the art of making clothes, shoes and sewing the leathers for boots, belts, vests, saddles etc. before they were 12. But the farmer and the blacksmith and the waggoneer and the lumberman had to hire help until their sons were strong enough to maintain the balance of the load for their fathers. It was too hard for an 8 year old to lift wheels, fell trees, use an anvil, and control the horses and oxen and mules that were needed for those jobs. However, their little minds of boys 5 and 6 years old when their fathers came home from the war were keen and open and eager to learn. And learn they did, just as fast and furiously as they could, and they did what they could until their bodies caught up to their mental experience and were able to put all their knowledge into practice.
    Those young boys that had to learn from their older family members; uncles, cousins, grandparents if they were still there for them, those were the ones that had the hardest challenge.....their father's didn't come home, their mother's couldn't hold up under the strain and the daughters had to pitch in and learn the art of making bread, churning, cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, sewing...whatever it took to be there beside their brother or brothers if they were lucky enough to have them and keep the family together and pushing on and on and on.
    These wonderful people are our ancestors. These blessed, faithful, loving, and yes, some have the occasional traits of hot tempered, sweaty, foul mouthed...but they are our ancestors. These strong, weak, frail, stubborn, rough skinned, white skinned, dark skinned, pampered or leathery people are our ancestors. I am so proud of them. I love them so much. I wish I could have known each and every one of them, touched them, listened to them.....just stood in their shadow for a few minutes because I'll guarantee you one thing, those shadows would have brought me to my knees knowing how much it covered and what it meant to be a part of their family.
    I have stood and am now standing on their land. I have seen and touched their trees and their homes. I have smelled their old pipes and snuff jars, their handbags, powder boxes and handkerchiefs. I have felt their old pocket watches, their knives, dishes, tools, jewelry, combs and brushes. I have tried my best to take in what is left of their presence and there is one thing that makes me cry with joy that I can hold it in my hand and smell the sweet smell of the years every time I open or caress it, it smells of leather and ink and age, but it's never dusty or used up....it's always there with warmth and peace and love....it's their Bible. The one piece of their lives that reaches generation after generation and is more loved each time it's given to the next, it's the one part of them that they couldn't live without, they couldn't read it, most of them, but it was there and they knew what it was saying, they had learned that through the years from their parents and their parents before them. Aren't ancestors marvelous. They make us who we are; a mixture of proof that they had made their mark on the land and it can never be erased. Thanksgiving, yes I give thanks.....everyday.