Epitaph: "Nevermore"

In the early 1970's I worked for an Insurance Company.  We put out a monthly newsletter for our dozen or so salesmen to keep them abreast of product changes, personal employee announcements and to inspire and rally sales.

Our ancestors didn't have life insurance. Once widowed, women remarried to have a man provide for them by whatever means, and the men remarried to have someone cook, clean, sew and raise their children.  It was called survival.

 This was the very first poem I ever wrote.  Obviously I was inspired by Edgar Allen Poe.

Epitaph:  "Nevermore"

by Kathryn Smith Lockhard

I went tapping on your door

to protect your wife and son.

"I save my pennies one by one,"

quote the young man, nevermore.

I went tapping on your door

all for your financial cure.

"Can't afford it to be sure,"

quote the young man, nevermore.

I went tapping on your door
security worries love ones fear.

"Maybe one day end next year,"

quote the young man, nevermore.

I went tapping on your door

once again to make my plea.

Widow cried out, "Don't you see"

man to answer nevermore.

Suffer The Little Children

It was very difficult so many years ago to bring healthy babies into the world.  Childbirth  was a dangerous risk for women and many lost their lives.  We are so blessed and fortunate today that we have the medical resources and equipment to monitor the health of our unborn children and to ensure the safe delivery for baby and mother.

Florence E. Smith was born in 1875 and was the daughter of my 2nd great grandparents. She died on December 7, 1881 when she fell off the Bradbury Bridge, in Biddeford, Maine and drowned at the age of seven. She is buried in the Hillcrest Cemetery in Hollis, Maine. She was found there resting beside her parents, William G. Smith and Druzillah J. Gray.

My great grandparents, William Russell Roesch and Ada Louise Houston had six children.  Their first child, Mary, was born December 22, 1885 and died May 2, 1887.  Their second child, a newborn son, born on April 2, 1887, died the very next day.  On January 15, 1888 a daughter was stillborn, and then on August 22, 1889 they suffered through yet another loss of a stillborn daughter.

Their fifth baby, a son brought joy for he survived, they called him Willy.  He became my grandfather.  One last child, a son they named Leroy, born on October 7, 1895 left this earth on October 25, 1895. 

All five babies are buried in the Pioneer Houston Family Cemetery in Eau Gallie, Florida.  I find it difficult to comprehend the pain that parents suffered when they lost their children. 









Rainbows and Flowers, vs. Black Clouds and Weeds

Rainbows and flowers are what we all expect to find in our family trees. What happens when we find black clouds and weeds?  A friend reminded me that they are the ones who lend a bit of color to our trees.

My great grandfather, Carl Zachariah Pierce was born into a family of social and financial status on the 7th of January 1872 in Middleboro, Massachusetts. He worked as a clerk in the Pierce Hardware store owned and operated by his father, Thomas Warren Pierce. Out of six children, Carl was the only son.  I can only surmise that the business would have be left to him one day.  His sisters all became well-known multi-talented musicians, singers and actors.  (See story: A Star Is Born )

Carl is in the top row, 2nd from left

In 1893 Carl played second baseman on the Middleboro baseball town league. You can see the big M on the players' shirts. Carl, at least to me, was indeed a handsome, strong, eligible bachelor in his era.  It is the only picture I have of him for all other pictures were lost in the house fire of his daughter.  (See story: Heartbreaking Misfortunes


On December 29, 1897, at the age of 27, he married Mary Catherine Wilber, age 16.   Six weeks later, their first child, a daughter was born.

Carl went out drinking socially with his best friend, his wife's uncle.  But it went terribly wrong. About a year and a half into his marriage he had become a full-fledged alcoholic.  Carl's life spiraled out of control as the disease consumed him.

Twelve years and four children later, his marriage ended in divorce and he was disowned by his parents.  He was in and out of trouble with the law due to assaulting his wife's step-father and uncle.  The legal system forced his hospitalization numerous times in state institutions without any permanent success. 

Carl Z. Pierce, died on July 29, 1927 at the age of 55 of a root canal pharysurgical abscess, at the Bridgewater State Hospital. Myocarditis is an inflammatory disease of the heart muscle, (myocardium) caused by an infection, namely his abscessed tooth.

His two daughters gave him a proper burial and laid him to rest at Hillside Cemetery in Bridgewater, Massachusetts.  They had no money to give him marker.

I have located the spot where he rests, next to his daughters and beside his twin grandchildren.  Alcoholism is such a tragic disease, not only for the inflicted, but also for the family members who love them.   And even  though I never knew him, I can forgive him.  I hope to give him a gravestone one day to say yes, he did exist, and contributed to life.  After all, I wouldn't be here today if not for him.  So this black cloud and weeds gave me rainbows and flowers.

Searching for Bahia

William Russell Roesch, the son of a Union soldier married Ada Louise Houston, the daughter of a Confederate sympathizer.  The marriage took place in Bahia, Florida on January 16, 1885.  They are my great grandparents.

According to their marriage certificate, witnesses were all family members:  Eugene Alexander Stewart a dairy farmer, and Ada's sister, Isabel Margaret Houston Stewart known as Belle.   Belle's husband, Bethal J. Stewart, performed the marriage ceremony and signed the certificate as Notary Public. 

I had documented the marriage information, but had no idea where Bahia was located.  I did find a Bahia located further south near Miami, but, my great grandparents were from Eau Gallie, located half-way between Miami and Jacksonville. It just didn't make sense that the family would travel that far for a wedding in 1885.  

I stopped into the town hall of Palm Shores located just north of Eau Gallie and asked the Town Clerk if their town was ever known as Bahia, or if they had ever heard of this town and the reason for my inquiry.  Unfortunately, the answer was no to my suspicions.  But she also informed me that Palm Shores was a relatively new town.

Encouraged with that piece of information, I continued my search discovering there once was a post office in the town of Bahia.  Finally, my detective work paid off when I came across an old map of Brevard County dated 1895 that pin-pointed Bahia as the town just north of Eau Gallie.  There it was, sitting  right where Palm Shores sits today.  I made a copy of the map and gave it to the Town Clerk.  She was delighted to have this new piece of information and filed it away with the history of Palm Shores.

I was delighted to have unraveled my great grandparents Bahia wedding mystery. Now the town of Eau Gallie is no longer as it has more recently merged into the town of Melbourne.   These towns, especially the name of Eau Gallie have meaning to our family and it saddens me to see them dissappear. 

The Family Tree - Photograph



The Family Tree

 I went on an outing with two of my teenage grandchildren yesterday.  I came across young children playing and challenging themselves to climb this beautiful tree as their parents looked on ensuring their safety.  I just had to take this picture for I felt it truly represented The Family Tree.

A Child Prodigy




Three-years-old
Photo provided by
Diana Burgin

 Ruth Pierce Posselt was born on September 5, 1911 to a musical family.  Her mother, Ida Pierce was an accomplished pianist and her German born father, Emil Posselt, was a conductor of the Boston Symphony.  Three of her sisters, Gladys, Mollie and Marjorie used to sing under the name of Posselt Trio.  They also played the piano, cello and violin respectively.  Ruth was the youngest sister playing the violin at age three with a violin that was specially made for her. 

Ruth became an outstanding American violinist whose career spanned over half a century.   She was invited to perform at The White House by President and Mrs. Roosevelt in 1937.  Posselt toured frequently as a recitalist, and formed a duo with pianist Luise Vosgerchian in 1958. A favorite of Koussevitzky and Munch, she appeared more than sixty times with the Boston Symphony, playing both the classics and 20th century composers like Bloch, Khachaturian, Hindemith, Copland, Barber, and Vernon Duke (Dukelsky). Married to Richard Burgin, long-time concertmaster of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, she appeared often under his baton.  Posselt toured frequently as a recitalist, and formed a duo with pianist Luise Vosgerchian in 1958. 



My 1st cousin
2x removed
Photo provided by
Diana Burgin

 Ruth Posselt performed several world premieres in her career, including Walter Piston's First Violin Concerto, a piece which was written for her, in 1940. (Violin Concerto No. 1) She also premiered a violin concerto by Vladimir Dukelsky, a.k.a. Vernon Duke, with the Boston Symphony Orchestra and conductor Serge Koussevitsky in March 1943. Also with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, Posselt premiered violin concertos by composers Edward Burlingame Hill (Concerto for Violin, Opus 38), in 1939, and Samuel Barber (Concerto for Violin and Orchestra), in 1942, and played the New York premiere of Paul Hindemith's Violin Concerto in 1941. In 1944, Posselt premiered Aaron Copland's Violin Sonata with the composer at the piano.
Later in life, she and her husband moved to the state of Florida.  Posselt taught and performed at Florida State University from 1963 to 1978, coming to the school as a visiting artist, continuing her stay as an artist in residence and member of the Florestan String Quartet, with her husband. Posselt eventually became a professor at the University. She also taught privately at Wellesley College and New England Conservatory.


Ruth and her husband, Emil during rehearsal
Photo provided by
Diana Burgin

Ruth was ahead of her time, becoming a virtuoso in a predominately male world.  She died February 19, 2007. 

Although I don't have any of Ruth's recordings as of this date, I hope to before long.  Recently I met Ruth's daughter through ancestry.com.  We have been enjoying and sharing family stories and information. She lives not too far from me.  We plan to meet this September.

The Dream Lives On

Mathias, my
3rd gr grandfather

Mathias Eugene Rösch was born on February 17, 1812 in Baden, Germany.  He grew to be a strong yet gentle and soft-spoken man, a Rösch trait that would continue for the next two centuries.  He had dark blonde hair, blue eyes and stood six feet tall.  He was a "sacklermeiter", a master craftsman of leather clothing. He married Magdalena Jehle and together they had eleven children.

Mathias was a member of what was known as the Republican Party, working underground to overthrow the monarchy and to establish a republic in Germany.  He was willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to advance the cause of unity, justice and freedom.

In 1853, he sent his sixteen-year-old son Josef to America so he would not be forced to join the German army.  In 1854 history repeats as he sends his second son, Franz.  Finally, in May of 1857 he brings his entire family across the ocean in the US ship, "William Nelson".  Their name was anglicized to Roesch upon arrival in the U.S.  Being well-off in a financial way, they were able to purchase a farm in Potosi, Wisconsin.  His grandson wrote in a letter , "Finally, the German government gained a knowledge of the Republican Party and my grandfather got out of Germany just ahead of them."

On January 28, 1887 Mathias Eugene Roesch died of pneumonia at the age of 74 years, 11 months and 10 days.  He was laid to rest in Boice Creek Cemetery in Potosi, Wisconsin near his farmhouse.  His life on earth had come to an end, but his dream lives on through future generations because he brought his family to America for a better life.

The "William Nelson" sailed its last voyage on June 1, 1865.  On the 25th of June the ship caught fire, burned and sank with 426 German and Swiss immigrants aboard. The captain and his crew were the first off the ship leaving the rest to die in fiery misery and confusion.

Hidden Deep Within

The more I research family history the more I realize that people don't change, only time does.

Family remains the foundation that keeps us strong.  We need each other to give us strength, confidence that we can succeed, knowing we are loved for who we are, someone to turn to in our time of need and for every other reason imaginable.  When we give up on those that make mistakes, when we don't teach kindness, forgiveness and respect, the family breaks down.  We are only human after-all and we are prone to make the same mistakes of  all those that came before. 

We can try to teach our children the lessons that we have learned, but they never take the more experienced advice and therefore go forth and make the same mistakes we made.  All we can do is to be there to catch them when they fall.  Just think, if we had the ability to generically pass on the lessons of the past as animals do. 

Times have changed, yes.  We have more wonder drugs keeping us living longer and healthier.  The world has gotten smaller for we have better roads so we can drive further and planes fly around the globe faster than ever before.  Housework is done more quickly today with all the modern conveniences, and we don't have to grow our food, we just go buy what we want. No need to make our cloth or spin the yarn.  We have more time to do things that we enjoy.

We all inherit from our parents our skin color, hair color, the shape of our nose and the color of our eyes. But, do we also genetically receive memories from our ancestors on particular interests such as politics, music, a writer of poems or books; perhaps also passing on their experience for us to continue and build upon past talents.

Are we born to be leaders or followers, lambs or warriors? Is this where, what we call, our destiny derives from? Are we being guided by forces within ourselves that push or lead us to a place whether we want to go there or not?  Perhaps we just might be a happier and more contented human being by not fighting those hidden forces that rest sometimes too deeply and quietly within us. Perhaps we have forgotten to listen.

Animals are born with the instincts and knowledge needed for survival. Why not us? Have we come so far in a modern society that we have lost the ability to read the messages passed on to us? Perhaps we are too busy to feel and listen to what is embedded in our genes.

The answer to my question became apparent to me when I completed and published my book, Forever Laced. The connection from one generation to another led me to believe that yes, we have a genetic memory. What do you think?

The Lost Art of Communication

We have lost the art of communicating with romantic and flowery words, whether it be through a love letter or an obituary. Technology has made it so much more convenient to pick up a phone, type a text message or send off a quick e-mail.  Sad don't you think that we now find it difficult to express our true emotions on paper?  These words, our ancestors knew.

A Love Story-March 8, 1823
Jack wrote a love letter to his wife Florence, he called her Billy. He had no idea at this point-in-time that he would never see her again.

Dearest Wife:



Florence Eloise Sterling
my grandmother

 Billy dear, now that you've gone I realize how much I really love you.  Dear girl, I'll never forgive myself for letting you go.  Dearest, this room doesn't seem the same.  I used to think it was so cozy and cheerful but now it seems so cold and bleak and dreary.  Our kitchenette room is too full of memories of you.  I see you at the gas range, I imagine I see you by the dresser curling your hair.  The only thing that consoles me is the realization that you will soon return to me.  And when you do, God knows how I'll stand it until then, you can gamble your last dollar that you won't leave me again.

Dearest, I want you to rest and enjoy yourself while you are there.  I won't ask if you had a safe journey as God couldn't be so cruel as to make it otherwise.

Well, dearest one, will close now hoping that you miss me as I do you.  A wealth of love and a fortune of kisses from
Your lonely husband, Jack

Perplexed

I wrote this poem during a period of writers block or what I call a brain freeze.  I hope you find it fun.

PERPLEXED

by kathryn smith lockhard

Front to back I read the dictionary,

only to surmise it was fictionary.

Truly it is a book of profusion,

for all it creates is complete confusion.

It takes a person with great fortitude,

to enjoy it with any magnitude.

For me to use again perchance,

lies strictly upon the circumstance.

My advise to you I do implore,

half the edition, please ignore.