Upper Level: Oliver Calvin McGhie and Erma Mae East

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Oliver Calvin McGhie and Erma Mae East

Oliver Calvin McGhie
Parents: Alexander McGhie and Emma Rowan
Born 16 August 1890 Park, Summit, Utah
Married Erma Mae East 29 March 1915 Ogden, Weber, Utah
Died 22 April 1965 Fremont, Alameda, California
Buried 26 April 1965 Murray City Cemetery, Murray, Salt Lake, Utah
Sources
1900 US Census Butler, Salt Lake, Utah (age 10)

Oliver and Erma's headstone

1930 US Census Tracy, San Joaquin, California (age 39)
Note: surname spelled Mcgrie
1940 US Census Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah (age 48)
Utah County Marriages
Billion Graves Index
US WW1 Draft Registration
California Death Index
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=57691

Erma Mae East McGhie

Erma Mae East
Parents Javis East and Elizabeth Mary Clark
Born 21 September 1894 Warren, Weber, Utah
Died 22 October 1976 Murray, Salt Lake, Utah
Buried Murray Cemetery, Murray, Salt Lake, Utah
Sources

1900 US Census for Plain City, Utah Sheet 11B

Note: Her given name spelled Arma in record
1910 US Census for Warren, Weber, Utah page 12
Note: her given name is Annie in the record 1930 US Census Tracy, San Joaquin, California (age 35)
1940 US Census Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah (age 44)
LDS Church deceased member record

SS Death Index

Marriage: Utah Marriages 1887-1966 Film 1324691 #7878
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=56089

CHILDREN

Easton's headstone

Oliver Easton McGhie (went by Easton)
Born 19 December 1915 Ogden, Weber, Utah
Military: WW2 Sergeant Med Det 318 Infantry
Married Wilma Doran 1 November 1941 Malad, Oneida, Idaho
Died 30 June 1963 Oakland, Alameda, California
Buried Golden Gate National Cemetery, San Bruno, San Mateo, California
Sources
1930 US Census Tracy, San Joaquin, California (age 14)
1940 US Census Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah (age 24)
California Death Index
SS Death Index
Idaho County Marriages
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=33344846

Elizabeth Emma McGhie Webb

Elizabeth Emma McGhie
Born 21 December 1924 Ogden, Weber, Utah
Married David Harold Webb 27 June 1942 Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Died 22 Sep 2016 Bloomington, Washington, Utah
Buried Utah State Veterans Memorial Park, Bluffdale, Salt Lake, Utah
Obituary:
Elizabeth Emma (Betty) McGhie Webb 91 passed away peacefully at her home is St. George, Utah surrounded by her family on September 22, 2016. She was born on December 21, 1924 in Ogden, Utah to Oliver Calvin and Erma Mae East McGhie. She married David Harold Webb on June 27, 1942 in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Betty and Dave were High School sweethearts. They dated for two years and have been married for 74 years, totaling 76 years of continuous courtship. They have loved and been loved by 5 children, 22 grandchildren, 60 great grandchildren, 17 great great grandchildren and her two special nephews, Garry (Marsha) and Dennis (Kris) McGhie.

Betty’s life has been a life of service. She is fiercely loyal to her husband and children. She is often referred to as the “giving tree.” She wanted everyone, who went away from her home, to take something with them. Her generosity continued into her declining years. She was constant in caring about others.

Betty loved her kids and she loved the kids they married. Her concern extended to them, forever.

Betty was the consummate listener. She had the ability to listen to people’s concerns and be genuinely interested in whatever they had to say. It was never “too late” and she was never “too tired” to enjoy conversation with an individual family member or a group of family or friends. She is remarkable!

Betty’s family and friends will be forever grateful for her influence in their lives.

She is survived by her husband David H. Webb, her five children, DeAnne (Ron) Nielson, Janice Mines, Sheryl (Lynn) Bloxham, Colleen (Carl) Pinneo (deceased) and David C. (Linda) Webb.

She is preceded in death by her parents, her brother Easton (Wilma) and a son in law Carl Pinneo and a Grandson-in-law, Jerad Egbert.

The family is grateful to Cindy and Georgia from Dixie Homecare and Hospice. Special thanks to Jami, from Dixie for the extra loving care she provided.

Funeral Services will be held on September 26, 2016, at the Veterans Memorial Cemetery, 17111 South Camp Williams Road. Bluffdale, Utah at 12:00pm. A Viewing will be held from 10:00am to 11:30am prior to the funeral service. Interment will be at Veterans Memorial Cemetery. A luncheon will be provided by the River 10th Ward, 1570 W. 11400 So. South Jordan, Utah.
Sources
1930 US Census Tracy, San Joaquin, California (age 5)
1940 US Census Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah (age 15)

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From a Funeral Program

When I come to the end of the road

And the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom-filled room

Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little - but not for too long

And not with your head bowed low

Remember the love that we once shared

Miss me, but let me go.

For this is a journey that we all must take

And each must go alone

It's all part of the Master's plan

A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick at heart

Go to the hills we know

And bury your sorrow among the trees

Miss me, but let me go.

The Line

Every minute someone leaves this world behind.
We are all in “the line” without knowing it.
We never know how many people are before us.
We can not move to the back of the line.
We can not step out of the line.
We can not avoid the line.

So while we wait in line -

Make moments count.
Make priorities.
Make the time.
Make your gifts known.
Make a nobody feel like a somebody.
Make your voice heard.
Make the small things big.
Make someone smile.
Make the change.
Make love.
Make up.
Make peace.
Make sure to tell your people they are loved.
Make sure to have no regrets.
Make sure you are ready.

I'm My Own Grandpa

Many, many years ago when I was 23,
I got married to a widow
who was as pretty as could be.
She had a grown up daughter
who had a hair of red.
My father fell in love with her
and soon the two were wed.
This made my dad my son-in-law
And changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother,
for she was my father's wife.
To complicate the matters worse,
although it brought me joy,
I soon became the father
of a bouncing baby boy.
My little baby then became a brother -in-law to dad
and so became my uncle though it made me very sad.
For if he was my uncle,
then that also made him brother to the widow's grown-up- daughter,
who of course, was my stepmother.
Father's wife then had a son,
who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandson, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother
and it makes me blue.
Because, although she is my wife,
she's my grandma too.
If my wife is my grandmother,
then I am her grandchild.
and every time I think of it,
it simply makes me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
As the husband of my grandmother,
I am my own grandpa!

Quotes from the Prophets

President Gordon B Hinckley: "It is good to look to the past to gain appreciation for the present and perspective for the future. It is good to look upon the virtues of those who have gone before, to gain strength for whatever lies ahead. It is good to reflect upon the work of those who labored so hard and gained so little in this world, but out of whose dreams and early plans so well nurtured, has come a great harvest of which we are the beneficiaries. Their tremendous example can become a compelling motivation for us all, for each of us is a pioneer in his own life."

President Spencer W Kimball: "I hope to see us dissolve the artificial boundary line we so often place between missionary work and temple and genealogical work, because it is the same great redemptive work!"

President Joseph Fielding Smith: " The responsibility on behalf of our kindred dead rests with equal force on all, according to our individual ability and opportunities...the greatest and grandest duty of all is to labor for the dead."

The Passing of the Pot (Chamber Pot)

As far back in childhood
As memory may go
One household vessel greets me
That wasn't made for show
Beneath the bed twas anchored
Where only few could see
But served the entire family
With equal privacy
Some called the critter Peggy
And some the thundermug
And others called it badger
A few called it jug
To bring it in at evening
Was bad enough no doubt
But heaven help the person
Who had to take it out
Our big one was enormous
And would accomodate
A watermelon party
Composed of six or eight
When nights were dark and rainy
It was a useful urn
On icy winter mornings
The cold rim seemed to burn
At times when things were rushing
And business extra good
Each took his turn a waiting
Or did the best he could
Sometimes when in a hurry
To our disgust and shame
We fumbled in the darkness
And slightly missed our aim
The special one for company
Was decorated well
But just the same it rendered
That old familiar smell
Today this modernism
Relieves me a lot
And only in my vision
I see that homely pot.
(author unknown)

Poem about ancestors

Though steep is the path I follow today,
The footprints of time will show me the way.
For many have traveled a smiliar road,
And carried an equal of heavier load.

No troubles I face are new to this earth,
That man has not faced from time of his birth.
The route has been charted and roads have been paved
By legions before me who were stalwart and brave.

Their steps never faltered nor courage grew dim,
For they trusted the Lord and let Him led them.
If my faith and my trust remain steadfast and true,
God will guide and protect me in all that I do.
- Dolores Karides

The Elusive Ancestor

I went searching for an ancestor.
I cannot find him still.
He moved around from place to place
and did not leave a will.
He married where a courthouse burned.
He mended all his fences.
He avoided any man who came to
take the US census

He always kept his luggage packed,
This man who had no fame,
and every 20 years or so,
This rascal changed his name.
No one else inthis world is
searching for this elusive man,
so I play "Gene-solitaire"
To find him, if I can!

I'm told he's buried in a plot,
with tombstone he was blessed;
but the weather took engravings,
and some vandals took the rest.
He died before the county clerks
were appointed to keep records
No family Bible has emerged -
In spite of all my efforts.

To top it off, this elusive ancestor
who has caused me many groans -
left me even one more challenge:
He brothed a lady,
by the name of "Jones"!
(Got this from a publication
put out by the DUP organization
that names the author: Merrell Kenworthy)

Poem: Heaven's Door

If I should go before you,

If life on earth were through;

I'll stop just inside Heaven's door,

and there I'll wait for you.

You've but to look 'cross star filled skies,

Past the moon and then beyond;

To know my leaving could never break,

This heart's undying bond.

And if you should go before me,

If your journey on earth were through;

You know I will be close behind,

I'll never be far from you.

Across the span of time and space,

This love will reach this far;

For you'll always carry a bit of my heart,

No matter where you are.

Allison Chambers Coxsey©1995 ~ All Rights Reserved

Which Shall It Be? by Adelaide Proctor

Which shall it be?

"Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
I looked at John and John looked at me,
And when I found that I must speak,
My voice seemed strangely low and weak:
˜Tell me again what Robert said,"
And then I, listening, bent my head.
This is his letter:˜I will give
A house and land while you shall live,
If, in return, from out your seven,
One child to me for aye is given."

I looked at John's old garments worn;
I thought of all that he had borne
Of poverty, and work, and care,
Which I, though willing, could not share;
I thought of seven young mouths to feed,
Of seven little children's need,
And then of this.

˜Come, John,said I,
We'll choose among them as they lie
Asleep. So, walking hand in hand,
Dear John and I surveyed our band:
First to the cradle lightly stepped,
Where Lilian, the baby, slept.
Softly the father stooped to lay
His rough hand down in a loving way,
When dream or whisper made her stir,
And huskily he said: ˜Not her!"

We stooped beside the trundle bed,
And one long ray of twilight shed
Athwart the boyish faces there,
In sleep so beautiful and fair;
I saw on James rough, red cheek
A tear undried. E'er John could speak,
He's but a baby, too," said I,
And kissed him as we hurried by.

Pale, patient, Robbie's angel face
Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace.
˜No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"
He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
Poor Dick! bad Dick! our wayward son”
Turbulent, restless, idle one”
Could he be spared?
Nay, He who gave
Bade us befriend him to the grave;
Only a mother's heart could be
Patient enough for such as he;
˜And so," said John, ˜I would not dare
To take him from her bedside prayer."

Then stole we softly up above,
And knelt by Mary, child of love;
˜Perhaps for her ˜twould better be,"
I said to John. Quite silently
He lifted up a curl that lay
Across her cheek in a wilful way,
And shook his head: ˜Nay, love, not thee,
The while my heart beat audibly.

Only one more, our eldest lad,
Trusty and truthful, good and glad,
So like his father. ˜No, John, no!
I cannot, will not, let him go."

And so we wrote, in courteous way,
We could not give one child away;
And afterward toil lighter seemed,
Thinking of that of which we dreamed,
Happy in truth that not one face
Was missed from its accustomed place;
Thankful to work for all the seven,
Trusting the rest to One in heaven."

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Oliver Calvin McGhie and Erma Mae East

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