ancestors – Fish Eye Farm

Whitehouse/Westside

These are Whitehouse/Westside – Riverside ladies. My relatives and ancestors.

From the baby Suzanne, in her mother Naomi’s lap. To her mother Nell Sallas who came out of the woods and moved uptown to Riverside. To her mother Mary Elizabeth Lowe to her mother Eliza Parrish Lowe. Five generations of Westside girls.

Nell was a quiet lady. Like my grandmother, her sister. Stoics.

As a small child, I played Bingo with those two at the Jacksonville Trail Riders, on Halesema Rd. The bingo hall resembled a military bunker. I had actually forgotten about those excursions, until now. Old memories resurface. They began the games with a prayer and a bowed head. This was part of my introduction to the world of Baptists. We were Catholic. The neighbors were pagans as they were not a part of the One Holy Apostolic Church and we were unsaved because the pagans thought that we did not know that Jesus died on the cross for our sins. That’s what the neighborhood kids explained to me as we raced our stingray bikes. My mother reiterated the pagan concept as we passed the little corner church. I asked questions. I wanted to know.

The Family Farm

The Westside – Blair Rd.

In Jacksonville if you head west out Normandy Blvd, you will cross a line of demarcation. A boundary, a separation, a distinction.

The people that grew up in this area know that border. As you cross Fouraker Rd. you are on different terrrain than the other areas of Jacksonville. The land has now been quartered and re-quartered. Subdivisions have been built on what was once sprawling pasture land.

It is no longer recognizable as the majestic acreage that it once was.

Cattle grazed under massive oaks. They lumbered to the creek for their daily water. They gave milk and beef, complimantary to the garden vegetables. Biscuits were a staple. No one knows biscuits like people who were raised on the Westide.

Even in my life time it was not uncommon to see someone traveling on horse. ( That was me! )

Many of us, whose family’s have been there since the 1840’s know we have a different history.

Peculiar personal histories.

Family History

Mary Frances Lowe Peterson was my great – grandmother. She lived on Blair Road, on the family farm. She was born and raised on the families land tract. She was there, when my mother woke up, as a five year old, smelling smoke and hearing a crackling noise. She alerted the family, saving their lives. A night they never forgot! They lost everything, but themselves. The little, curly haired cherub, became an instant hero. Mary also lived with my Grandmother, Elizabeth Peterson McInarnay, on Phyllis St. The family had built a house there, following the farm house burning to the ground.

They rebuilt the farm house.

Nuts in the Family Tree

Dan's Blog

Although the day was cold and crisp with cloudless skies,

I ordered a vanilla yogurt and then I sat,

The cashier looked at me with a question in her eyes,

“Would you like some nuts with that?”

She must have thought I was a normal guy,

She waited expectantly while I tried to decide,

“What are my choices?” I asked loud and clear,

She said, “Almonds, Brazil nuts, hazelnuts, walnuts, are but a few,”

I guess I didn’t have to shout with her standing near,

“Don’t forget pecans, macadamias, pine nuts and cashews,”

I started giggling and then my laughter turned into a roar,

I couldn’t choose one kind when there were nuts aplenty,

Soon I collapsed with laughter and tumbled to the floor,

“What’s wrong with him?” called one voice out of many,

“I don’t know,” I heard as I was thrown out…

View original post 369 more words

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: