A House is almost always a home.

In December of 1955, as I remember, my mother and dad moved to the rural community of Wright, Florida.  It was just a few miles away from where we had been living within the city limits of Fort Walton [now known as Fort Walton Beach].  As a child, I had only a vague idea of rural living.  I guess I would have guessed that a "farm" was a place where cows lived.

Lived, past tense.  Dairy cows had lived, just a decade before, on the acreage that my dad purchased.  Large cement cisterns were relics of that time.  There may have been a couple of those in evidence and an old barn graced the property, as well.  A beautiful grove of mature pecan trees dotted the landscape and in the spring, when the clover came up, we got the idea to call our new home "Cloverdale".

It's true that initially, the red blooms and green clover leafs became our playing field, but it didn't take long for us to realize that the bees also liked clover. 

The house itself, featured two stories, an unusual structure in our experience; it hadn't been lived in for a while and felt not at all like a cozy place.  There was no working furnace and northwest Florida can be cold in the winter.  Fortunately, the fireplace provided a temporary solution as we three kids gathered our blankets and with Mother's help, organized a "pallet*" city at night-time.  In less than a week's time, Dad had contracted to have gas heaters put into the walls!



*My grandmother’s house was small but always overflowed with family and guests during the holidays. Us young’uns (grandkids) always slept on and under a pile of quilt “pallets” on the floor, leaving the real beds to the grown ups.

Obituary of Samuel Moses Tucker by "A Friend"

Tucker was my dad's mother's maiden name.  Or said another way, Eunice Hill, my dad's mother, was first (nee') Eunice Tucker.  Her grandfather was Samuel Moses Tucker.  This composition, then, is what a friend of her grandfather's wrote about her grandfather's death.

Obituary for Samuel Moses Tucker

S. M. Tucker was born in Sumter District, South Carolina the 28^th day of March 1820—died the 9^th day of October, 1883, at his residence in Jasper County, Miss.

About the year 1847, he moved from South Carolina to the state of Alabama, where he resided until the year of 1857. Then he moved with his family to Jasper County, Mississippi where he remained until the cold icy hands of death laid his frail body down to sleep until the resurrection morn.

About the year 1867 he attached himself to M.E. Church South [does “M.E.” stand for Methodist Episcopalian?], in which he was a consistent member for three years and desired to live thus the remainder of his days, but being treated in an un-Christian like manner by one of the leading members of his church, he declined to have anything further to do with the church or that member and said he purposed [proposed] to live a retired Christian life which he did, to the best of his ability until the chastening hand of God was laid severely upon him in stiffness and suffering thus he was brought [some words and a line or two of this is not able to be discerned by myself at this time].....and requested many whom he believed to be Christians to pray for him a few days before his death.

He seem to be troubled by his future prospects but on the day preceding his death, he became reconciled to his fate and exclaimed, “All is well”. And with this he left a brighter evidence of his acceptance with God. [I've had to try and re-create some of this and guess at the words I can't read].

The writer of this notice was with him during his last hours, and conversed with him freely, on the topic of religion and he said, “While I love my children, …..[unreadable]....to the will of God.” Those that were present at his death said that he passed away like one falling in a trance. “Oh, how sweet it is to die in the arms of Jesus”.

He leaves behind him a devoted wife and fourteen fond children, and many friends to mourn their loss. But, thanks be to God we sorrow not as those who have not hope, for we have reason to believe that “Our loss is his eternal gain”. (A Friend)

[Transcribed by Margaret Hill Harris on January 25, 2014; this composition is yellowed, bound together with tape and typed.]