Upper Level: Thomas Best Taylor and Mary Elizabeth Runner

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Thomas Best Taylor and Mary Elizabeth Runner

Thomas Best Taylor
Parents: Joseph Taylor and Polly Ann Hudnall
Born: 9 July 1823 Richardsville, Warren,Kentucky
Military: Civil War (Union)
Married: Mary Elizabeth Runner 27 February 1851 Richardsville, Warren, Kentucky
Died: 29 September 1862 Evansville, Vanderburgh, Indiana
Buried: Oak Hill Cemetery, Evansville, Vanderburgh, Indiana Section 24, row 12, grave 24
Short life sketch:

From “Family History of the Joseph Taylor, Jr. and Sarah Best Family”By Shari H. Franke

Thomas Best Taylor, born 9 July 1823, near Richardsville, Warren, Kentucky, married 27 February 1851, Mary Elizabeth Runner, at Warren County, Kentucky. M. J. Evans performed the ceremony. Her father, William Runner was bondsman for the marriage.

Thomas Best was a very handsome young man and a good farmer. Thomas must have felt a great responsibility when the Civil war started, for we know he joined the Union Army. He was a member of Company B, 38th Kentucky Infantry. He was shot in the arm accidentally by his own men while returning from a patrol. He was then taken to the Union Hospital at Evansville, Vanderburgh, Indiana, where he remained several months to recuperate. His arm had to be amputated and gangrene set in. Unfortunately, Thomas Best Taylor eventually died as a result of his wounds on 29 September 1862, at Evansville, Vanderburgh, Indiana. He was only 39 years old. He was buried at the U.S. Military Cemetery at Evansville.

Mary Elizabeth Runner, born 17 March 1827, near Richardsville, Warren, Kentucky, was the daughter of William Runner and his first wife, Margaret Penner. She was a devoted wife, who loved her husband very much. We understand that she rode horseback in the rain, from Richardsville, Warren, Kentucky to Evansville, Vanderburgh, Indiana to see her injured husband at the Union Hospital. How hard it must have been for Mary Elizabeth to lose her husband at such a young age! She was left with two little boys to raise alone. They were only eight and five years old when Thomas B. died.

Mary Elizabeth died on 18 November 1893, near Richardsville, Warren, Kentucky, where she was buried at the Green River Union Cemetery.

Sources
1860 US Census Warren, Kentucky (age 37)
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=29091870

Mary Elizabeth Runner
Parents: William Adam Runner and Margaret Sarah Penner
Born: 17 March 1827 Richardsville, Warren, Kentucky
Died: 18 November 1893 Warren, Kentucky
Buried Green River Union Church Cemetery, Richardsville, Kentucky Plot 291
Sources
1860 US Census Warren, Kentucky (age 33)
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=8977010

CHILDREN

William Irven Taylor
Born 2 March 1854 Richardsville, Warren, Kentucky
Married Gertrude Earl Temple 16 August 1882 Bowling Green, Warren, Kentucky
Occupation: Preacher (1900 - his wife is a music teacher) 1910 (Minister)
Children: Gilbert, William, George, Mary
Died 31 December 1934 Jamison Hospital, New Castle, Lawrence, Pennsylvania
Buried Neshannock Cemetery, New Wilmington, Lawrence, Pennsylvania
Sources
1860 US Census Warren, Kentucky (age 6)
1900 US Census Sacramento, McLean, Kentucky (age 46)
1910 US Census Worth, Boone, Indiana (age 56)
1930 US Census Wilmington, Lawrence, Pennsylvania (age 76, widowed)
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GSln=taylor&GSiman=1&GScid=2191917&GRid=137953297&

Joseph Nicholas Taylor
Born 5 March 1857 Richardsville, Warren, Kentucky
Married 1) Louisa Elrod 25 November 1882
No Children
2) Minnie Love
No Children
Died 23 May 1931
Buried Fairview Cemetery, Bowling Green, Warren, Kentucky

Short Life Sketch (available on Family Search):
Biography of Joseph Nicholas Taylor Corrections/additions are in red

Joseph Nicholas Taylor was born in Warren Co. March 5, 1857.

His father, Thomas Bascom Taylor (middle name should be Best, not Bascom) was born 1822, also in Warren Co. He married Miss Elizabeth Runner, and to them were born two sons, Jos. N. and Wm. I., the latter of whom graduated in Literature from DePauw University and afterward entered into the ministry in the Methodist Episcopal Church, and is at the present time (1885) engaged in ministerial work in Chicago, Ill. Elizabeth Runner Taylor was born March 1828 (1827). She is yet living (1885). Her parents, Wm. and Margaret Penner Runner were Virginians, came early to the state of Ky. and located in Warren Co.. Thomas Bascom (Best) Taylor was for a short time a member of Co. B. 38th Ky. Infantry. On account of wounds received accidentally he was placed in a military hospital at Evansville, Indiana, where he died. He had been before the war, a farmer, in which vocation he was successful and left a competency to his sons.

His father, Jos. Taylor was a farmer and a native of North Carolina. He came to Ky. with his parents, who also located in Warren Co.. He died in 1864. He was a son of Jos. Taylor Sr. (should be Joseph Best Taylor).

Joseph N. Taylor remained on the farm where he was born. He had, on attaining the age of 18, received a fair common school education, which he supplemented with a course in Prof. J. H. Hinton's academy in Simpson Co. Ky. At the age of twenty he left school and took charge of his father's farm of 40 acres, in which he now owns a large interest; he has for eight years managed his farming interests successfully. His attention is given principally to stock breeding. He has also lately invested some capital in Florida lands with a view of engaging in orange culture. Nov. 30, 1882, Mr. Taylor was united in marriage with Miss Lou (Louisa) Elrod, a daughter of Thos. And Mary Brown Elrod of Warren Co..

Mr. Taylor's religious views are based on the tenets of the Methodist Episcopal Church, in which he holds the office of steward. Mrs. Taylor is a consistent member of the same faith. Mr. Taylor is a Republican, and lends his influence to his party

Sources
1860 US Census Warren, Kentucky (age 3)
1920 US Census Bristow, Warren, Kentucky (age 62)
1930 US Census Bowling Green, Warren, Kentucky (age 73)
Perrin's History of Warren Co., Kentucky p. 937
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=122607487

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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."

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Thomas Best Taylor and Mary Elizabeth Runner

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