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Page 84 of 650

Descendants of Daniel Snyder Morris

Generation No. 3


10. CARL DEAN8 MORRIS (LEONIDAS HAMLIN7, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1) was born June 19, 1931 in Crawfordsville, Indiana. He married CAROLYN WIATT June 3, 1951. She was born January 22, 1934 in Crawfordsville, Indiana.
     
Child of CARL MORRIS and CAROLYN WIATT is:
  i.   CARLA SUE9 MORRIS, b. February 1, 1954, Crawfordsville, Indiana.


11. ANNA LLEWELLYN8 MORRIS (FRANK VALENTINE SR.7, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1)1 was born February 20, 1913 in Danville, Illinois1, and died August 6, 1989. She married (1) CLYDE BURTON. She married (2) STEPHAN EDGAR HILLEARY1 April 27, 1933, son of OSCAR HILLEARY and IDA WARNER. He was born April 25, 1913 in Atwood, Illinois1, and died January 14, 1988. She married (3) KENNETH ABBOTT December 1, 1951.

Notes for ANNA LLEWELLYN MORRIS:
Llewellyn married Stephan Edgar Hillary for the first time April 27, 1933. They divorced October 23, 1944. They remarried in June of 1948 and divorced for the second time September 10, 1951.

More About KENNETH ABBOTT:
Divorced: June 18, 1956
     
Children of ANNA MORRIS and STEPHAN HILLEARY are:
22. i.   BARBARA JEAN9 HILLEARY, b. January 21, 1934, Danville, Illinois.
  ii.   RONALD DOUGLASS HILLEARY1, b. May 7, 19361; d. December 14, 1997.
23. iii.   CURTIS DEAN HILLEARY, b. May 26, 1937, Danville, Illinois; d. February 7, 1975.


12. ROBERT WAYNE8 MORRIS (FRANK VALENTINE SR.7, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1) was born November 14, 1917 in Danville, Illinois, and died August 6, 1988. He married (1) ROSALEE MUSSON December 23, 1936. She was born November 1, 1918 in Oakwood, Illinois, and died December 26, 1946. He married (2) MARTHA ANN SULLIVAN June 16, 1947, daughter of AARON SULLIVAN and ETHELYN VIERS. She was born January 15, 1922.

Notes for ROSALEE MUSSON:
Died in childbirth. Baby girl not named.

More About ROSALEE MUSSON:
Burial: Oakwood, Illinois
     
Child of ROBERT MORRIS and ROSALEE MUSSON is:
24. i.   CAROLYN FERN9 MORRIS, b. October 2, 1937, Danville, Illinois.
     
Child of ROBERT MORRIS and MARTHA SULLIVAN is:
25. ii.   WAYNE SULLIVAN9 MORRIS, b. January 7, 1950.


13. SHIRLEY VIRGINIA8 MORRIS (FRANK VALENTINE SR.7, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1) was born March 26, 1921 in Danville, Illinois, and died March 16, 1982 in Danville. She married ROBERT MABEE April 14, 1939. He was born October 25, 1920 in Danville, Illinois.

Notes for SHIRLEY VIRGINIA MORRIS:
INTRODUCTION: I want to dedicate my story to Karen, because I've bored her to death, having her read back parts I've written. During the four months I couldn't see, I made myself a promise that as soon as I could, I'd write a story, about and for my family, all of whom I love very much. First of all, I'm not senile, but I'm always having to convince everyone! God has been very good to me and I thank every one of you for all your thoughts and prayers, they helped more than you will ever know. May God Bless you all. At a suggestion from Tony in "sunny California," Bob put sandpaper on my shoe for better footing on the ice and snow, for my calls to the doctor. Then dreading the sun on my eyes, God provided very overcast days! So, between God and Bob, I had it made! Tony flew home to be with me when I needed him. He spent ten of his precious vacation days here. My other three, who live near us, check on me every day. It's been wonderful to see the newest little members of my family. Before I begin my story, I want to insert a brief, and I hope unnecessary apology to mainly one member of my family, for using nicknames; but we're near in age, and that to me, is what he's always been! Probably to my dying day, and I love you.

MY CHILDHOOD VIEW OF THE DEPRESSION (written 1979)

The hard times when I was young affected everyone in this country! Some not so bad, others terrifically! I can remember some, before it hit so hard, but being very young, it's hard to recall. Mom and Dad always seemed to not let it touch our lives, as kids, by too often sacrificing themselves. I used to think mothers were the ones who didn't eat very much and always stooped over every morning at the table. Mom was sick for years with a bad gall bladder.
At the first house in my memory on Evan's, we had a beautiful black leather davenport that was tufted all over and a library table (that I have now). They were the first pieces of furniture that Dad bought for Mom. You could see the love he had for her in just those two things. The library table had a long board at the base, that each one of us had sprawled out on while euchre was being played on top. A typical sign of being a Pollock was playing euchre and drinking coffee.
Our home had four rooms down and two large rooms up. Dad heated it with a Florence heating stove. Sometimes he'd get that stove red hot all over the walls of it. After I'd go to bed, I'd lay there and worry about it. Then I'd holler down and ask Dad if he'd shut the stove off. He'd say he did, and then he'd add "whoever gets to sleep first, whistle!" Then I'd lay there and wonder how I'd whistle after I'd gone to sleep, but it would work! No one else ever asked, but they probably laid there thinking, "well, Shirley will."
Lots of Saturday nights we'd all go over to Sullivan's to listen to the radio. As I recall, we all sat around it like we do TV now. We were delighted with "Lula Bell and Scotty." Then the Sullivan's would send for a yearbook that had pictures of all the stars on that station, and we could see who we were listening to. I loved to play at Sullivan's. They had monkey bars and a permanent ball diamond in the side yard, and Mart's dad had built benches around the base of the trees. His garden always looked like a picture in a magazine! They had a cow and chickens. When Mart's sister, Mary, was little, she went out to the hen house and someone heard her talking to one of the chickens. She said, "Hoe hen, we haven't got a hen in the house!" When we played there, we would all get together on some bright idea or another. Like the time five of us each pitched in a penny and we bought some "Sunshine" cigarettes. In front of Sullivan's, and down the hill was the railroad tracks. East of their house a short way was an overhead bridge. I always loved that bridge and they've torn it out.
I remember just two Christmases before things got so bad, I had come downstairs first. No one else was up. There is never a doubt about a package containing a doll! I opened it and was really cuddling that Bilbo Baby when everyone else came down at once. The doll was Lou's. I had a real fit and now I don't remember what my gift was. The other Christmas I remember was after the depression had begun. Mom had talked to all of us kids trying to explain that we weren't going to get anything. That morning each one of us had a ten cent gift. I guess dear mom couldn't stand it. I remember that gift real well! Mine was a bracelet and I really cherished it!
The first school I went to was South Mount Pleasant. I always thought that was a pretty name. My first teacher was Miss O'Farrell. I loved her cause she used to keep me after school to help her trace pictures for our class to color the next day. The first three grades were downstairs and the rest of the grades up. Mrs. Parker taught there. Once I remember chewing gum five days in a row and getting paddled for it four times. On the fifth day, she must have changed her tactics. She put me in the clothes closet and gave me a poem, with many verses, to learn before I could go home. I still know that poem and stopped chewing gum in school. "The fox jumped up in a hungry plight, and begged the moon to give him light . . ." While going to that school, I remember an ice truck that drove by the school. Kids used to jump on it to get smaller pieces of ice chipped off when the driver would cut up the ice for deliveries. Once when Cline didn't get off the truck in time and caught his foot the driver drug him for quite a ways down the road upside down!
We moved once for a short while into a house that Grandpa Pollock built on Pollock Avenue. It being the first house there, was the reason for the name of the street. We went to Diamond school there and our principal was L. A. Tuggle, who has been mom's teacher when she went to school. Mom won a scholarship in the eighth grade, to be able to go straight to college, but she would have had to go to another town and Grandpa wouldn't hear of it. She never really got over that. While I was still in grade school, we moved out west of Grandpa's on what is now Kickapoo, a very pretty state park. We rented from the mining company that was years in the process of stripping coal from under the ground. They have now stripped the whole farm that was Grandpa's. The mining process was the reason our house sat on the edge of a cliff. In the rock under our house was a large hole that was timbered so it wouldn't cave in. You could see this from the west of our house. The floors in our house weren't level. When we'd mop, the water would roll toward the cliff. Jiggs used to tell Mom that they should tie a rope around the house and tie it to the big tree across the road.
Our barn was on a higher level than the house and part of it was the garage. One day our old car rolled out of the garage, headed straight for the house! When it got to the well, one wheel went into the well and stopped the car. Back of the barn was our pasture and lots of times we'd see trees, bank and all, slide off the cliff and the height of the tree would simply disappear in the water. Dad would have to change the fence line so the cows wouldn't go over too, but one did once!
During our life, we went to Eureka twice. It was a small one room brick schoolhouse. The second time we went there, our teacher was Mr. Yazel. He taught me all I ever knew about music, which isn't much. Kept me in one night to learn alto to a song. Imagine alto with no one else singing. I never will forget when I sang "Mighty Like a Rose" solo in front of all the parents! Learned an awful lot of classical music from him. We lived farther from this school than any other kids, so he'd pick me up sometimes. He went with all the kids Halloweening. He was as much fun as any of the others. He and Bob would go out to the toilet and smoke! We had lots of fun when we lived there.
We had an old mule called Jenny. Once Jiggs was out riding Jenny when it was about milking time, and Bob was ticked at him, cause he had to milk. He saw Jiggs come riding back and Bob hid in the ditch. Jiggs saw Bob but old Jenny didn't. Jiggs kept shouting, "no Bob!" and when they were even with Bob, he jumped up and slapped his hands on his sides and yelled. Old Jenny rared up and dumped Jiggs off. We swam in those ponds that were so awfully deep. You had to know how to swim. Illinois University put two rafts on one of the ponds. The sides down to the water were so straight, they put a rope ladder down to the one at the edge and anchored the other out in the middle. The anchor was a railroad iron at the end of a cable. We'd get under the raft in the middle and try to pull ourselves down into the depth. If we let go fast, we'd pop out of the water like a cork! I learned to swim cause we had a dummy in the neighborhood. He threw me in, and I figured he wouldn't even get me out, so I swam . . . it was Wooly. In the winter the ponds would freeze, and we'd have a ball skating. In the fall, Mom and Dad and all the neighbors used to have large wiener roasts. One pond out there we all called the Emerald Pool. Oli and Bet would come and stay a couple of weeks during summer months. We'd really have a good time. Once Dad saw a guy chasing our old rooster. The rooster just stayed on the road, and he was about worn out running ahead of the car. Dad ran out and followed him in our car. What went on after he caught the man we never knew, but Dad got acquainted and brought the guy home. After that they'd get together regularly and play euchre! We had thought there would be a big fight!?! Dad fished a lot while we lived there. Once he came home with a real big fish on a chain he had over his back, and the fish's tail was dragging on the ground! I started high school while we lived there, and started dating too. My brother, Bob, was my big protector. When he got married I didn't think anyone was good enough for him. So Rosalee and I went round and round sometimes, but I really loved her.
I am amazed, yet, that the land with so many memories for us is now a state park. We take our camper there a lot now, and as it should be, the Pollock reunion is held there! When we moved from our cliff house, the next place was were the Stephenson teachers used to live. Right in front of our house was the railroad switch yards. I was a teenager then and the depression was still on. Dad would take gunny sacks out in the railroad yards and pick up coal that would fall off the cars when they would bump together forming the train. Seemed no time at all that our stove burned up that, and Dad would have to go out for more. Sometimes the railroad detective would throw off coal for Dad! I met Bob there. First time I saw him, he was covered with coal dust. He worked in a coal mine. I fell in love with him right then. Coal and all. He was very good looking and seemed much older than seventeen. We were married nine months later and genuinely have lived happily ever after! Things were ever changing after that, but very slowly. This year we are celebrating our 40th wedding anniversary.
It seems now that the younger generation are reaching back. Dewey has a antique stove that is just like the stove that kept us very warm in the early days, and Karen has a kitchen cabinet that is similar to one we had. And both are always looking for more. Young people are naming their babies by old names. Dewey's baby is Lucas, and Karen's baby is Valentine, which was Dad's and Jigg's name, and, not knowing until recently, a name that goes back in our family for generations. Let's just hope we don't have another depression in store for them, but it's getting to look scary. We were a very lucky family. We had wonderful Grandparents on both sides. Dad's parents were religious. Grandpa Morris died when Lou was tiny, so none of the six kids ever knew him. Grandma was a very hard working woman. That showed very much in her body. Her back was bent terribly, one of her little fingers was bent from a buggy accident when she was younger. She would sing religious songs for hours. The main one I remember was "In the Garden." She'd come to stay at our house whenever we needed her and some times just to visit. All my life she had white hair. It was long and she wore it combed back in a bun, with bone hair pins. I used to love to see her do it, first thing every morning. I have a lovely picture of her outside in a rocking chair reading a religious paper. Very typical of grandma. She raised nine children. One of her daughters was an artist. I used to watch her paint. She did them in oils with a depth created by her oils. They were beautiful. I'd love to have owned one. As of now, there is only one of the nine Morris children living. Aunt Mary is a well published poet. Her work has been a joy to us all.
Dad's family always lived in Crawfordsville, Indiana, and we lived in Illinois, so we didn't see them nearly as often as we did Mom's family. The Morris reunion was always held Christmas Day. One year when I was very little, Aunt Roberta took me to the reunion. Being so little, my memories of that day are very vivid. To quote someone else's description of those reunions, "the table was heavily laden." I remember a dish that was a square, stemmed cut glass, lidded dish that I'd give my eye teeth to have (if I could get them from the dentist). They had another dish with after dinner mints. Anyway, someone had given me a toy sweeper that I dearly loved and it was left behind when we went home! I probably had a fit, but thought some day I'd go back and get it. Years later, I stayed two weeks at Uncle Hams at the tender age of seventeen, and never thought about that sweeper once. Every time I'd hear the poem, "Over the River and Through the Woods" I'd think of Grandma Pollock's. At that time in my young age, it seemed like a big trip to go there. Really, it was only about five miles away. Of course, the tires were small with multi-patched tubes and didn't go very fast anyway; and loaded down with Mom and Dad ad six kids and if anyone was walking, we'd stop and pick them up and they'd ride on the running board. Grandma always had lots to eat cause it always seemed they'd get company about meal time. Grandma would never let anyone leave without eating first. Grandpa called her 'Miss Come-eat-a-bite.' Most of the time they would have hot biscuits, hot rolls or new baked bread; and milk so rich. When she would skim the crock of milk, the cream would literally fold ahead of her skimmer. Grandma made the best noodles ever eaten, and generally went out and killed the chicken that day. We liked to watch her cut it up. There'd generally be an egg that probably would have been laid that day, had it been given a chance. Once Aunt Mid caught a rooster to be cooked. She had him tucked under her arm and the old rooster made a deep throated growl that sounded like "I'll walk" and Mid said "No you won't, I'll carry you."
Grandpa Pollock's farm was a fruit farm, so it seemed they always had fruit of one kind or another. Kids all over the neighborhood came to pick the fruit. They would get two cents a quart. I think once it raised to three cents a quart. The best thing about strawberry picking was lunch time. Grandma and all the women would clean a case of berries and make hot biscuits and pour thick cream over all. Boy, it was good! She would have everyone who had picked that day in for a treat.
Grandma had a 'party line' phone that you cranked for a ring. Every one had a certain ring--a short and a long, or two longs and a short, etc. In that same room there was a piano that Mom played almost every time we were there. Our Great Grandpa played the violin. He and Mom would really get that house jumping. Mom would play something from the sheet music for a while, then push it aside and do it her way, and it always sounded much better. Mom's piano, with her in control, really kept us entertained throughout all of her life. When we lived in the country, the boys in the neighborhood would join Mom with guitars and we'd all sing. Probably was corny, but we loved it. Mom is gone now, but I have a tape of her playing one song, and to me it's priceless. Dad would sing with us too. When he was a young man, he sang with a barber shop quartet. Seemed wonderful to me, I never heard anyone else's Dad sing. I mention it every time I hear the old standards they sang.
My first memorable recall in life was Grandma Morris whisking my younger brother and I out of our little look alike cribs, where we'd been bouncing little rubber balls on the floor with a rubber string attached. He was two and I was four. Very hurriedly she rushed us through the living room where I saw everything she was trying so hard to pass quickly. Mom lay there in a very white bed. She, in a very white gown and the doctor in a very white coat. Mom hadn't been laying there the night before. I remember having the thought that Mom was dying. I objected to being taken on to the kitchen, but that's where I wound up. Grandma let me stand on a chair and wash the dishes. I was always asking too, but no one had ever let me. This was pretty special! Too, I noticed that Grandma shut the door between the kitchen and the dining room, which I don't think before or after had ever been closed. I had the thought that Grandma had shut it so no one would disturb me. In no time at all, it seemed, I heard a baby cry on the other side of that door! I wondered who had come, cause we didn't have a baby, except Jiggs, and he was two and didn't cry like a tiny little baby. So I got down and opened that door that had been shutting me out, and there laid a tiny little naked baby on our dining room table! Grandma said it was ours. Will wonders never cease! Mom named her Ethelyn. I got big headed over the dishes idea, so I thought I'd iron. Mom had three irons, that she'd heat on the coal range, that had handles that would snap on. She had gotten me one just like hers but littler. I set it on the stove, but it didn't seem like it was heating, so I opened the reservoir on the end of the stove, dipped my iron in the water, then set it on the stove. It sizzled away and whenever it quit, I'd dip it again. Don't remember if I ever ironed anything! About the same time, my two older sisters, Lou and Fern, had a toy stove that was just like Mom's. Every part worked and it was really heavy. It was iron. Had a little coal bucket too. They kept a pretty close eye on that.
After Ett was born, there were six of us kids. Seemed at that time we all made our own entertainment. Me and Bob and Jiggs used to crawl back in a pantry off the kitchen, whose ceiling was at an angle because of the stairs, and we'd lay Dad's sheepskin coat on the floor, lining up and shine apples. Seemed like Bob was always carving something. He made tops, then cut a groove for the string and they would spun with perfect balance. The boys would make sling shots from the right shaped tree limbs. They'd use old inner tubes for the bands with a piece of leather from the tongue of a shoe to seat the rock to shoot it. Worked real good too! Bob would carve little monkeys out of black walnuts. The boys would make a board with a hole in the middle the size of a walnut, then pound the walnut through to knock of the hull. Those guys hands would be brown all fall. Dad nailed a board on the bottom edge of the slanted roof of the coal house, and we'd lay walnuts all over the roof to ripen and season the nuts. Boy they were good in home made candy later in the winter.
Dad hunted and trapped a lot in the winter. He always had different shaped boards to stretch the furs on, then he'd sell the furs when they dried. We ate lots of rabbit, which we all loved. He had a particular place out on the barn where he'd clean the rabbits. Dad was strict but very good. He had a toolbox in that barn that we kids knew we'd better not get into. His strictness was as good as a padlock. He made it with great care. Each tool had a place. Even in the lid. His hand saw rested there in leather bindings. Things Dad had that were taboo to six kids were his tools, his fishing poles and his razor strap. Dad used a straight razor and when he'd hone it, that razor strap just slap in rhythm on that strap. It looked so easy! It always hung in the kitchen by the mirror near the window. That same strap served other purposes too. I thought one day I'd try honing the razor. It was so easy for Dad. Later, after Dad used it on me, I couldn't realize for the life of me how those nicks got in the edges of that strap.
Between the coal house and our toilet was fenced off for pigs. We had a couple or three. Dad would throw corn over to them to eat. Well, Ett was little most of the time we lived there. One day she thought she would hold the ear of corn down to the pig. Well--he jumped up to her on the fence. She screamed and ran into the house. Beside the path was a bushy little tree and her dress caught on the limb. She may have been little, but she broke away from that limb thinking it was the pig. She ran into the house all out of breath and white as a ghost, slammed the door and leaned on it. No one knew for quite a while just what was wrong. Ett, being the youngest, got a lot of flack, I guess, but I loved her all my life, and all the rest do too. Speaking of that barn, there was a hayloft in it and among us we had hung a swing in the rafters, that in the process we could swing out the hay mound door. Seemed wonderful, being so high. One day Jiggs, Ett and I were in the loft, swinging. We'd push each other. Ett's turn came and we pushed her out the door, and the swing came back in - without Ett!. Jiggs and I looked at her down on the ground, seemed for ages, us on our knees in the window. She didn't move. Needless to say, Mom called our faithful old doctor. The fall had knocked the wind out of her. The doctor seemed old by this time. He had brought all of us into the world. Always called Mom "Ruby." He was only twenty-four when Mom had him the first time. He was not really old then, cause he did deliver one of mine.
During this time in our lives, Dad worked at the brick yard. His job was 'hacking' brick. He'd pick up several bricks off an assembly belt, turn them over, set them back down and separate them in one fell swoop. They were in clay form and had to be fired in kilns. His muscles were huge and his hands very rough. He carried a dinner bucket to work, that is now an antique. It was oval shaped and fit together like a double boiler. He'd take coffee with lots of cream and sugar in the bottom part and sandwiches in the top. Us kids would run to meet him when he came home--mainly to get his dinner bucket. Seems there'd always be something in it. Also during that time, Jiggs was given a little puppy, a male black and white, that was such a lovable dog. His name was 'Lindy.' Lindbergh had flown across the ocean that year. Jiggs was four or five. Lindy was part spitz, but heaven only knows what the other part was. He looked a lot like a spitz, but he was more bulky. Just a good dog for kids. Most small dogs are gun shy, but Lindy wasn't. He'd simply go wild with excitement when Dad would get out his shotgun. He would go hunting for hours and hours with Dad. When he'd shoot wild ducks, Lindy would swim out and get them. Seemed to us three younger kids that we had Lindy forever. I was married when he died. A car hit him. Mom's kids were all adults, but there was great sorrow.
One day Jiggs and Ett and I decided we'd take some milk bottles to the store and get some candy with the pennies refund. Well, when we got there the store didn't take that kind so we had to trudge back, each carrying two bottles. While we were walking back, I heard a streetcar and figuring it was the one Mom would come home from work on, I suggested we run. In fact, I insisted on it. Ett, being the littlest, fell down and one of her bottles broke and she cut her hand. I looked at it and a big piece of glass was still in her hand. I told her to let me pull it out and she screamed, "no!", so I took her other hand and we ran the rest of the way home. Good thing really, it was bleeding badly. When Mom got home, Lou and Fern had wrapped it. Mom just figured it was little and didn't remove it. Well it healed up and one day Mom was looking at Ett and she said, "Make a fist." Ett did, but the longest finger stayed straight out. Mom said, "close all your fingers," so she used the other hand and pushed it down and held it with the fingers on each side. --Back to the doctor. He had to re-cut it and get the ends of the leader it had severed and tie them. Now she can't open that finger out straight. Poor little Ett, it's a wonder she doesn't hate me, and I think we're closer than any two sisters.
Around that same time, Mom had a very serious operation. It was before the depression. During and near the operation, they used what they called then a 'pull motor' on Mom eight times to start her breathing again. It was such a fantastic thing that several doctors were brought in to observe Mom. She got so she wouldn't eat. Our good old doctor went in to Mom and told her whatever she wanted to eat, he'd get it. She said 'a tomato.' They weren't in season, but he got her one, fresh! It runs in my memory that Mom was in the hospital eight months? Her homecoming was a great event. Dad had bought her a new bed. All of us ran to the door and opened it with gusto when they pulled in the driveway, and we all rushed out to meet her. As she came in the door she said, "Where's Jiggs?" As we shut the door intending to look for him, we found he'd been mashed behind the open door and had no pants on. Whoever was dressing him had left the job to run to meet Mom too.
The depression hit while we lived at this house. Dad was laid off as were many others. We used kerosene lamps for light. Mom went back to work after the operation with a bottle taped to her side with a rubber tube from her liver, draining bile and sand from the ducts. She worked and wore that bottle for about a year. Dad had a shoe stand with iron foot shapes of different sizes to put soles and heels on all of our shoes. At one time a couple about Mom and Dad's age lived in our upstairs. Their names were Kinney and Elsie. Jiggs would go to the stairs and holler, "Elsie!" When she'd say, "What?", he'd say, "aw, beans."
When Ett was tiny, Mom would hold her on her lap and tip her over forward and she'd say "mama", like the little doll she was. Once when Ett was toddling around, Grandma Morris was at our house and she had a certain little paring knife she used all the time. Well, Ett got it one day and took it out doors and dropped it through a crack in a board into the cistern. Needless to say, Ett really got it that time!
When we were little, Mom never let us go to the neighbors. We never knew what the next door neighbors house looked like inside. In the summer, Bob and Jiggs would make stilts and they'd get an old discarded wheel and push it with a wire they'd curve on one end and bend a handle in the other end. If they were lucky enough to find an old roller skate, they would use the wheels and make a scooter, similar to the skate boards now, only they make a handle up the front to hold on to, putting one foot on it and pushing with the other. They'd melt old lead and make sinkers to fish with. Dad loved to fish. Lots of times Dad would fish all night and come home in time to eat and go to work. He was very strict. Always made us eat everything on our plates and to this day I feel funny if I don't. Jiggs didn't used to like bread crusts. When he was real little, he'd tuck them under the edge of his plate, thinking that if he couldn't see them, no one else could either. I guess you know, everyone did but him. Dad would make him dig them out and eat them. One thing that stuck in my memory was when I'd do something wrong, dad would look at me like I was a bug or something. I'd look away for a while then look back at Dad and he'd never have changed that look. Would get to seeming like hours! One time, I had been told, when Jiggs was an infant and I was two, we were all eating supper and Jiggs started to cry. Mom told Dad to go get the baby--well it evidently seemed like a good idea to me, so I did! Dragging him all the way by the tail of his gown.
I remember Mom used to bring home bread that were twin loaves and under the wrapper in the middle was a piece of candy. Always seemed we all tried to beat each other to it. Imagine, six kids and one piece of candy. No one got too old! When Mom or Dad bought candy then, they really got a lot for their money.
Mom worked at a fruit store, run by an Italian who's name was Poponis. Lots of times he'd send something home to us kids knowing there were six of us. Most of the time Mom worked at grocery stores. She would bring so many groceries home during the week that she would owe the grocer instead of getting a check. She'd bring home bulk peanut butter and white oleo that we'd color when she got home. Too, in those days, we ate an awful lot of oatmeal. I recall the pan Mom cooked it in. It was about a foot across and straight up the sides about six inches deep with wire handles on both sides. Mom always used lard from grandpa's butchering. Mom always said we never missed any meals, we just postponed a few!
     
Children of SHIRLEY MORRIS and ROBERT MABEE are:
26. i.   ROBERT ERVIN9 MABEE, b. December 12, 1939, Pekin, Illinois.
  ii.   LOUIS FRANKLIN MABEE, b. October 17, 1941, Pekin, Illinois.
27. iii.   ANTHONY VINN MABEE, b. April 20, 1945, Danville, Illinois.
  iv.   KAREN LOUISE MABEE, b. October 3, 1949, Ft. Wayne, Indiana.


14. FRANK VALENTINE JR. (JIGGS)8 MORRIS (FRANK VALENTINE SR.7, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1) was born June 24, 1923 in Danville, Illinois. He married DELIA PICHON December 1945. She was born August 20, 1926 in Danville, Illinois.
     
Children of FRANK MORRIS and DELIA PICHON are:
  i.   LARRY ALLEN9 MORRIS, b. September 24, 1946, Danville, Illinois.
  ii.   ROBERT JOSEPH MORRIS, b. June 2, 1949, Danville, Illinois.
  iii.   KENNETH EUGENE MORRIS, b. August 24, 1950, Danville, Illinois; d. May 14, 1969, Oakwood, Illinois.
  More About KENNETH EUGENE MORRIS:
Burial: Oakhill Cemetary, Oakwood, Illinois
  iv.   GARY DUANE MORRIS, b. October 8, 1955, Danville, Illinois.


15. ETHELYN IRO8 MORRIS (FRANK VALENTINE SR.7, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1) was born March 20, 1925 in Danville, Illinois. She married EVERETT DALE GOSS October 19, 1946. He was born July 18, 1923 in Paragon, Indiana.
     
Children of ETHELYN MORRIS and EVERETT GOSS are:
  i.   VICTOR DALE9 GOSS, b. July 31, 1947, Indianapolis, Indiana.
28. ii.   LYNDA SUE GOSS, b. February 25, 1953, Indianapolis, Indiana.


16. MORRIS MILLER8 CLOSSIN (KATE ELIZABETH7 MORRIS, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1) was born October 28, 1928 in Lindsburg, Indiana. He married ALICE DARNELL. She was born in Indianapolis, Indiana.
     
Child of MORRIS CLOSSIN and ALICE DARNELL is:
  i.   CARL DAVID9 CLOSSIN.


17. HELEN LOUISE8 CLOSSIN (KATE ELIZABETH7 MORRIS, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1) was born May 8, 1916 in Lindsburg, Indiana. She married CASIMER STERGER November 4, 1939. He was born May 4, 1913 in Indianapolis, Indiana.
     
Children of HELEN CLOSSIN and CASIMER STERGER are:
  i.   ALAN THOMAS9 STERGER, b. March 4, 1948, Indianapolis, Indiana.
  ii.   STEPHEN MICHAEL STERGER, b. June 13, 1950, Indianapolis, Indiana.
  iii.   LEO STERGER, b. February 3, 1956, Indianapolis, Indiana.


18. CAROL ANN8 MORRIS (DANIEL7, DANIEL SNYDER6, JAMES E.5, ROBERT CLARK4, ROBERT JR.3, ROBERT SR.2, ANDREW1) was born August 21, 1941 in Crawfordsville, Indiana. She married DAVID WEINGARTNER December 24, 1963. He was born June 24, 1937 in Crawfordsville, Indiana.
     
Child of CAROL MORRIS and DAVID WEINGARTNER is:
  i.   AMY KATHLEEN9 WEINGARTNER, b. October 6, 1963, Long Beach, California.


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