Upper Level: August 2023

Wednesday, August 16, 2023

Charles M Tweedie and Sarah M Sleeper, Sarah F Lansil, Evelyn Marie Brooks

Charles headstone
He is buried with his 3rd wife.

Charles M Tweedie

Parents: Thomas W Tweedie and Sarah Monk

Birth 1856 New Brunswick, Canada

Occupation(s) Mill Worker 1880, Harness Maker 1895

Marriages

1) Sarah M. Sleeper 18 February 1876 Houlton, Aroostook, Maine

2) Sarah F Lansil 15 January 1895 Caribou, Aroostook, Maine

ALERT: according to this (Charles' second marriage record) he was a widower,
BUT, Sarah M Sleeper has vital records that prove he wasn't. At this point,
I am going to look for a divorce record.

Second page of Marriage #2
Shows parentage of Charles and Sarah #2
Proving he is the Charles that had been married to Sarah #1

3) Evelyn Marie Brooks 11 March 1916 Rumney, Grafton, New Hampshire

Page 1
Charles and third wife, Evelyn
claims this is his first marriage

Page 2
Parentage proving this Charles is the same man in
the other marriage records

Died 1928

Buried 1928 Thorndike Center Cemetery, Thorndike, Waldo, Maine

Sources

1870 US Census Houlton, Aroostook, Maine (age 14)

1880 US Census Houlton, Aroostook, Maine (age 24)

Marriage Records

Headstone: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/37362017/charles-m-tweedie

ancestry.com

Family Search

-H-
6c5r

Sarah M Sleeper

Parents: Charles Henry Sleeper and Martha Fellows

Sarah's birth record
she had not been named yet

Birth 9 August 1856 Plaistow, Rockingham, New Hampshire

Married 2) Clarence Joseph Smart 4 July 1901 Aroostook, Maine

Died 8 May 1913 Aroostook, Maine

COD: Dilation of heart

Death record
ALERT! the marriage record for Charles and Sarah F Lansil, his second wife, claims he was a widow in 1895 when he married her. I don't understand why.

Sarah's headstone
currently incorrectly extracted as Sarah H.
I requested a correction to Sarah M and to add her maiden name

Buried May 1913 Smyrna Cemetery, Smyrna, Aroostook, Maine

Sources

Birth Record

1860 US Census Houlton, Aroostook, Maine (age 4)

1870 Houlton, Aroostook, Maine (age 14)

1880 US Census Houlton, Aroostook, Maine (age 24)

1910 US Census Aroostook, Maine (age 52)

Death Record

ancestry.com

Family Search

Headstone: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/141672086/sarah-h-smart

CHILDREN

Charles Henry Tweedie

Birth 1 January 1878 Houlton, Aroostook, Maine

Note: he claims his birth year as 1880 on his WW1 draft card

Occupation(s) 12 Sep 1918 Farmer working for Ambrose Parker, 1910 Odd Jobs Laborer, 1930 Laborer

Married 1) Addie Nellie Smart 9 May 1901 Moro Plantation, Aroostook, Maine

Children: Truman, Raymond, Hazel, Vernon, Roland, Ernest, Herbert, Arnold, James

2) (Widow) Carrie Belle Mosher 7 Aug 1937 Oakland, Kennebec, Maine

Died 5 July 1955 Waterville, Kennebec, Maine

Buried Maplewood Cemetery, Fairfield, Somerset, Maine

Sources

1880 US Census Houlton, Aroostook, Maine (age 2)

1910 US Census Eagle Rock, Aroostook, Maine (age 31)

1918: Ft. Fairfield, Aroostook, Maine

1930 US Census St. Alban's Somerset, Maine (age 50, divorced)

WW 1 Draft Registration

Note: his physical description is: tall, slender, blue eyes, light hair

Maine, Nathan Hale Cemetery Collection

ancestry.com

Family Search
Memorial: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/195156136/charles-henry-tweedie

Walter Tweedie

Birth 1879 Houlton, Aroostook, Maine

Married

Died

Buried

Sources

1880 US Census Houlton, Aroostook, Maine (age 1)

Note: This is the only proof I have found to prove this boy existed.

ancestry.com

Family Search

SECOND WIFE:

Sarah F Stevens (Lansil)

Parents: Levi Goodwin Stevens and Mary Sinclair

Birth 1857 Bangor, Penobscot, Maine

Married 1) Elbridge T Lansil 18 December 1876 Bangor Penobscot, Maine

He died in 1887

2) Charles M Tweedie 15 June 1895

No children found

Died

Buried

Sources

Maine Marriage Index

Maine Vital Records

ancestry.com

Family Search

THIRD WIFE:

Evelyn Marie Brooks

Birth

Married

Children

Died

Buried

Sources

Maine Marriage Index

Maine Vital Records

ancestry.com

Family Search

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."