Going to Disney World

Well, what caught my eye when I was leaving my 4-great grandparents grave site, was a large monument.

Please pardon the names and relationships - they are mostly for myself, trying to keep all the old folks straight.


Driving towards the exit, I went by the Torresdale Lawn section of Lawnview Cemetery, because I knew my great-great-grandfather, Harry Lincoln Mousley's brother Thomas Charles Mousley was buried there.

Somewhat upset and tired of "not finding" my forefathers' graves, Lawnview was the 5th different cemetery I have visited over the course of nearly a year, I wasn't about to park the car and go walking up and down the rows of gravestones looking for him. I had gotten tired of dealing with the somewhat unhelpful person representing the cemetery and hadn't asked them "exactly" where Thomas was buried.

Just as I reached the end of the section, driving slowly in my car, I saw this monument.


Oh my goodness! What is this? Was this Thomas' grave? Am I related to Walt Disney? And what is that object resting on the monument under the "M"?

Feeling suddenly rejuvenated and thinking, "Yes! I finally found 'somebody'!" I parked and jumped out of the car. Well, it turned out it was Elmer Mousley and his wife's and her parents' grave.


Who then, was Elmer? And what was the Disney connection? I had to do some more research.

"Cousin" Elmer was the middle one of three sons of Thomas Charles.

He was an electrician in the Navy during WWI, and he served in Brest, France, and on the US Navy Repair Ship Bridgeport. He later worked at the Alexanderson Alternator Transmission Station, Tuckerton, NJ (located very near and visible from the fish factory I saw each summer as a boy when down the shore). This radio station was one of the earliest in the efforts to transmit a radio signal across the Atlantic Ocean. More on Alexanderson Alternator here. Later, Elmer worked for Western Electric installing the very first automatic phone switching station in Philadelphia.

He married Helen Disney on December 20, 1924 in Philadelphia, PA. Helen Marguerite was born July, 1899 to Charles Albert and Ella Virginia Disney of Baltimore, Maryland. I've spent about two hours tracing back this family tree all the way back to William & Sara Disney who had Margritt, born 28 Dec. 1686, & William, born 11 Aug. 1693 all and still in Baltimore, Maryland...

As for Walt Disney... The family name, originally d'Isigny ("from Isigny"), is of Norman French derivation, coming from the canton of Isigny-sur-Mer. The Disneys, among others, descended from Normans who settled in Normandy around the 11th century.

Well, you can search for yourself, I'll give you a start. Click on the 1st through 4th generation links. The answer is, no, there is no direct link going back about 10 generations.

Does knowing this qualify me for a 10% discount at my favorite place?

I doubt it. :)

Oh.. and I walked up and down the rows looking for Thomas Charles for nearly an hour and didn't find "him". Maybe next time.


The object on the monument was a photo of a young woman in a heart-shaped picture frame. I thought she is (was?) a very pretty woman... Who might she be? I might try tracking her down sometime. I might get lucky and find her... :)


This is what remains of my 4-great grandfather's home and all the buildings he owned on this block. The entire block is now a parking lot. Add to that the fact that the cemetery he was originally buried in is now a parking lot. I... was a bit emotionally stunned when I saw this. A day later, I am at least thankful the parking lot is a clean one - and the bumpers are straight and freshly painted. Irrational of me - but that is the best I can make of this.

Across the street, the view my forefather would have had out his bedroom window - is this...


...the boarded up, vandalized, graffiti covered, litter strewn ruin of a block of buildings that was once the Reiger & Gretz brewery. Founded in 1881 as Reiger & Gretz, this lager brewery re-open as William Gretz Brewing Company after the 1933 repeal of Prohibition. Most of the nearly one hundred Philadelphia breweries never recovered from the Prohibition; by 1950, there were only eight left. Gretz Brewing Company closed its doors in 1961.

I suspect my 4-great grandfather saw this building being built - and my 3-greatfather may have enjoyed a sip of their brew, owning a brewery himself only a couple blocks down this street...

My 3-great grandfather is ... the one I view as the most interesting of "the lot". More on Charles later and I promise I won't be as ... morose. But before that, I've a lot of your entries to catch up on.

Eight score and nine years ago...

Eight score and nine years ago, some of my forefathers left Belgrave Gate, Leicester, England and landed in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Others came over about the same time from County Antrim, Ireland, also to Philadelphia, where at least one of them made Steton Hats and one died in tragic train accident while those that remained entered the insurance business.

Some of the other forefathers came earlier - my mother's fathers family came over from England on the Neptune (1617) and the Gift (1619), settling in the Hampton Roads area of Virginia. From there, they slowly migrated west, going with Daniel Boone into Kentucky and later into Oklahoma.

Some came a little later, my mother's mother's father came over to Boston from Paisley, Scotland where fate would bring a young sailor from Oklahoma, enlisted during WWI, to his door asking for his daughter's hand in marriage.

Recently, I've been doing a bit of retrospective thinking, I don't know if it was because my last birthday made me feel old, or because I was alone on Thanksgiving Day with the family out of town, or because I've not been feeling my usually chipper self. Perhaps, it is because I have no children, that I am looking back into the past and not forward into the future?

At any rate, I've researched the family tree, looking for ... something.

169 years ago, my 4-greats-grandfather Joseph Mousley, entered this country. He married Sarah Elizabeth Hose on Christmas Day, 1826 in St. Margaret's Church, Leicester in a joint wedding with Sarah's brother Edward Hose and his bride Mary (Allen). Joseph and Sarah had ten children, three of which died before reaching the age of two and the last three were born in America.

I've sat and pondered what made him pull up stakes and move at the age of 38? Was his entire family enthusiastic about the move? What did nine year old Charles (my 3-greats-grandfather) think of the "great adventure"?

They settled at 1547 Germantown Avenue and Joseph went into business as a cordwainer (shoemaker) and shoe salesman. In a few years, Joseph owned the entire block and the courtyard alley was known as Mousley Street. Joseph retired about 1878 and was succeeded by his youngest son Joseph William.

Joseph passed away July, 1883 and his wife followed him in January, 1888. They were buried in Odd Fellows Cemetery, Diamond and 24th Street, Philadelphia. I went to find his grave and... the cemetery no longer exists.

I discovered, via the Internet, the following:

"Monument Cemetery, the second rural cemetery in Philadelphia, was founded in 1837 on North Broad Street, across from Temple University. In the 1950s, it fell victim to the school's need for parking lots. Thousands of those interred there were transferred to a mass grave in the suburbs. Their monuments were dumped into the Delaware River, where they are still visible today.

Other vanished cemeteries include Glenwood at Ridge Avenue and 27th Street, which gave way to the Philadelphia Housing Authority's first housing project in the 1930s; The original Odd Fellows at Diamond and 24th Streets, displaced for the Raymond Rosen towers (ed. note: a failed urban public housing effort); and Franklin Cemetery in Kensington, whose 8,000 bodies disappeared in the 1940s as part of a political swindle gone bad."

Further investigation lead me to Lawnview Cemetery, in Rockledge, PA, whose website states, "There are two Philadelphia Cemeteries which were closed and relocated to Lawnview Cemetery. In 1951, the original Odd Fellows' Cemetery was closed and the 65,000 bodies interred there were re-interred at Lawnview. When Monument Cemetery was closed in 1955, all 26,000 bodies were also re-interred at Lawnview."

I found many of my Philadelphia relatives had been buried in Glenwood, Franklin, and Monument cemeteries as well as the original Odd Fellows cemetery. So, many of them were dug up in the 1950's and reburied in Lawnview without their gravestones.


The office told me my 4-great grandparents, Joseph and Sarah, were re-buried in the Norris Lawn area, Section 14, Grave number 62 and drew an "x" on a map on the rough location.


Somewhere - in the shadow of an ancient oak tree, lie the unmarked remains of my great-great-great-great grandparents, who I suppose, came to this country with high hopes, much excitement, and a dream for a brighter future... and while unmarked, are not forgotten -


Somehow, I think my forefather might of liked knowing there was a small lane lined with big ol' oak trees nearby - and this one, in particular, which shades his grave... I gave it a big hug.

As I was leaving the cemetery, something caught my eye... I'll write about that later...

Centralia, Pennsylvania

When I drove up to see Alice Kay a week ago, I went through the town of Centralia. I've been there a couple times - but each time I see the place I find myself driving up and down the quaint streets lined with sidewalks...and without any houses.


Centralia is a ghost town a little ways north of Ashland, Pennsylvania. Its population has dwindled from over 2,000 in its heyday to 1,000 residents in 1981 to just 7 in 2010.

It is a typical Pennsylvania coal town. Alexander W. Rea, a civil and mining engineer for the Locust Mountain Coal and Iron Company, moved to the site after coal was discovered near the surface and laid out streets and lots for development in 1854.

Alexander Rea, being a "coal mine manager," was seen by the poor and rather abused miners as an evil man, and he was one of the victims of the secret order known as the Molly Maguires when he was murdered on October 17, 1868. Three individuals were convicted of the crime and hanged.

It is not known for certain how the fire that made Centralia essentially uninhabitable was ignited. The fire remained burning underground and spread through a hole in a rock pit used as the town dump and into the abandoned coal mines beneath the town.


Attempts to extinguish the fire were unsuccessful, and it continued to burn throughout the 1960s and 1970s. Adverse health effects were reported by several people due to the byproducts of the fire, carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide and a lack of healthy oxygen levels.


In 1992, Pennsylvania governor Bob Casey claimed eminent domain on all properties in the borough, condemning all the buildings within. Very few homes remain standing in Centralia; most of the abandoned buildings have been demolished by humans or nature. At a casual glance, the area now appears to be a field with many paved streets running through it complete with street signs and park benches.


It's our planet - and it's the only one we have.

Democrat and Chronicle Newspaper

R-H's Kody Mousley bowls 300
Staff report • November 18, 2010

Rush-Henrietta senior Kody Mousley bowled the first perfect game in school history on Wednesday. Mousley, 17, helped the Royal Comets defeat Webster Thomas 6-0 in the season opener at Clover Lanes.

"It was pretty cool and still feels surreal," said Mousley, who carries a 210 average. "I was just hoping to do decent in the first match of the year. I was a little nervous at the end. I pulled the last shot and that last pin seemed like it took a while to fall."

Source

That's my nephew!!! Way to go Kody!!! Yehaw!

Yesterday Morning at the Dandy Mini Mart...

Yesterday morning, I was 196.6 miles from home and pulled into a Dandy Mini Market to use the men's room. Of course, the restroom was out of order - Fortunately it wasn't an urgent, pants-threatening emergency - yet.

To my surprise, I met someone inside that I knew who was waiting at the line at the cash register. The Scuba Dude (Alice Kay's husband) and I think he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

I followed him out of the store - talking and when I finally got into my car and started to pull away, I noticed my car odometer was readding 100,000 miles. I pulled out my camera in a hurry but, drats, missed the magic number by a couple seconds.


Something tells me I need to dust and vacuum some (I'd say "more", except I never do it, so I can't say I need to do it more!)

I followed the Scuba Dude back to his house and had a nice visit with Alice Kay, the Dude himself, their daughter Karen and the little man, Ryan!

Goodness. I've not had the pleasure of playing with a happy, smiling, giggling little guy in a long time. Talk about a real "pick me up". Ryan is 20-months old now - so he and I are at the same "play level". :)

We played a nice game of Oops*! and one or two rounds of Whoa*! I think he and I hit it off, when it came to go bye-byes, he wanted to come for a ride with me!


*Oops! and Whoa! are made up games where I placed a plastic red engine from the world of Thomas the Train on his head - balancing them there... carefully, so that Ryan could lean slowly forward until the engine fell off - when it did, we both shouted "Oops!!" and then he'd crack up smiling and laughing - which was kind of infectious. :) Whoa! was played the same way, except with a different toy.

9 Years and 3 Months...

Have you ever been somewhere where you thought to yourself, "This is the place for me?"

A place, where even though no one knows you - you feel like you belong there?

You feel like you've stepped out of the pressures of being a responsible adult and feel like ... well... like you've just entered the gates of Disney World, and the place is closed to everyone except you and whoever you invited for the day?

Belhaven, North Carolina, a small town lies along the banks of Pantego Creek and the Pungo River, is such a place for me.

A typical "Main Street, U. S. A." small town, Belhaven has hosted an annual 4th of July parade and celebration for over fifty years and the Chamber of Commerce brags about it proudly when you stop in at its varnished wood train station built years ago and offers you a free t-shirt leftover from this year's parade.

On the second floor of the historic city hall building, the Belhaven Memorial Museum offers visitors a view of the eclectic collections of Mrs. Eva Blount Way. Gathered in the early 1900s as a means of raising money for the American Red Cross, they include an eight-legged pig, an exhibit of dressed (but very dead) fleas and over 30,000 buttons or varying colors and shapes.

The best known home in town is a grand Southern Plantation - and has a porch that has chairs and ice tea for the asking... is renown for it's Oyster Fritters.. and is oh-so-comfortable... and has a Boat Marina tucked in behind it?

It was 9 years and 3 months ago when I first visited this town. I was on a boat going from a little way south of Jacksonville, Florida and heading north to Oxford, Maryland on the Tred Avon River in the upper reaches of the Chesapeake Bay. This was an experience of a lifetime - over 1,200 miles by boat, where I navigated, minded the helm, tended the docking lines, and arranged places to refuel and overnight.


That first trip, which occurred just a month before the nastiness that took place September 11, 2001 changed the world, was a three and a half-week long expedition proving to myself, that I could be self-reliant, and make critical decisions -

I remember cruising into past the breakwater that protects the town's waterfront from the more than occasional gale-force winds and the accompanying white capped waves... The sky was dark that evening, the threat of an evening shower was in the air and the day's cruise had been a long one - the thought of tying up for the night and having a hot shower and some tasty food urged us along and we speedily refueled, and tied down the boat for the night.


We stayed at the River Forest Manor and Marina... it sounded deliciously off-beat when I read about it in the by now, well worn guidebook...

"Started in 1899 by John Aaron Wilkinson, President of a successful local lumber company and Vice-President of the Norfolk & Southern Railroad, and Italian craftsmen were called in to carve the ornate ceilings, and by 1904, the mansion was complete – with carved oak mantels for each of the eleven fireplaces, sparkling cut glass leaded into windows, crystal chandeliers glittering from the ceilings, tapestry placed above the mahogany wainscoting in the dining room and two baths so large that they included oversized tubs for two..."

The dining room was made into a restaurant and the bathroom's made available to marina guests.

After getting soaked by that evening shower while riding a loaned golf cart down the town streets back from the Food Lion grocery store with fresh bread and vegetables, the subsequent luxuriant shower followed by the taste of a true southern cooked meal (cooked by someone else for a change) soon had me snoring, contently in my berth.

I only had a short stay there the first time - but thoroughly enjoyed the place - and this time - the wind came up, threatening a rough boat ride - so we opted to stay there an extra day - surely we couldn't risk the expensive one-of-kind boat in broad reaches of the river if the wind was howling 25-30 mph.


So I wandered through the empty (of cars) streets of town and visited the Belhaven Memorial Museum, home of Mrs. Way's rather bizzare collection of "things, where I spotted this picture. The woman was Norman Cordon's mother, according to the penciled tag scotched taped to the bottom of the picture - a governess (are there still such things as governesses?), music teacher of Mrs Way's children and oh-so-lovely.

:)


The sunset that night was spectacular - the weather while windy was pleasant - behind the breakwater, the boat was gently rocked that night by the waves and I once again, snored contently in my berth.


I felt ... not only like I was "home again" but reinvigorated and once again .. alive. I don't know why Belhaven does this to me. I felt safe, comfortable, welcomed, and wanted. It was such a nice feeling after living alone at home for so long now and being alone at work for the last 3 months.

Since I got home - I've not felt right... edgy and out of sorts... I blamed it on the time change... but I really don't think so. I think it's nearly time to do something about how I'm living my life ... to move to another place - to a place that makes me feel "right" even if there isn't any reason why it should... and I've no idea what I would do once I got there.

Oriental, North Carolina

The town of Oriental is called the "Sailing Capital of North Carolina" and is home to more sailboats than people. In the late 1880's, Lou Midyette was named postmaster of what was then known as Smith’s Creek. Lou's wife, Rebecca, however thought the town's name was dull and commonplace, so disregarding the town's extensive history, she applied to the Post Office to get the community renamed "Oriental" after a nameplate from a sunken steamship ship that she found washed up on a local beach...

...a beach in which, legend claims, Blackbeard the Pirate buried his blood-drenched treasure as he lived in a house located a short distance out of town.

After a somewhat rough and exciting day's cruise across the Pamlico Sound and down the Neuse River in windy, overcast weather, we reached port just as it began to gently rain. After tying up at the dock, a brand new sailboat pulled in beside us and a sharp bark was heard - A Corgi bound for the Bahamas announced her presence aboard the "Mandalay". I was later able to pat her as she regally strolled across the Oriental Marina and Inn's lawn for her evening post-prandial "duties".

She reminded me of a friend of mine and was the highlight of a most invigorating day.

By the old moulmein pagoda
Looking eastward to the sea
There's a Burma gal a settin'
And I know that she waits for me

And the wind is in those palm trees
And the temple bells they say
Come you back you mother soldier
Come you back to Mandalay, come you back to Mandalay

Come you back to Mandalay
Where the old flotilla lay
I can hear those paddles chonkin'
From Rangoon to Mandalay

On the road to Mandalay
Where the flying fishes play
And the dawn comes up like thunder
Out of China across the bay

Ship me somewhere east of Suez
Where the best is like the worst
And there ain't no ten commandments
And a cat can raise a thirst

And those crazy bells keep ringing
'cause it's there that I long to be
By the egg foo young pagoda
Looking eastward to the sea

- Rudyard Kipling as sung by Frank Sinatra


There is a small fleet of Shrimp boats in Oriental. Boats like the "James T. Gillikin", named for a long time member of the North Carolina Fisheries Association and reknown boatbuilder on the Eastern Seaboard.

Later that evening, the rain tapered off and I was able to walk around the quiet streets of this most pleasant town.


The next day, November 4th, while enroute from Oriental to Beaufort, I saw a pair of Dolphin gracefully jump from the water in front of the boat - and after a short time looking for them to resurface, I was pleasantly surprised by the sound of a big splash right off the boat's port (left for you landlubbers) side. The two Dolphin I had spotted were part of a larger group of about six. For the next fifteen minutes or more, they joined me, playing in the bow wave of the boat, racing along and leaping into the air to grab a breath of air.


They reminded me of a friend of mine - and were the highlight of my birthday.

Beaufort, North Carolina

Last Thursday, as I grew another year older and not one whit smarter, I found myself looking at this granite marker located between a parking lot and the city docks of Beaufort (it's pronounced "Bow-fort," y'all), North Carolina.

High Flight
by John Gillespie McGee, Jr.
No. 412 Squadron, RCAF

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.

Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds—and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air,

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod

The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
John Gillespie McGee, Jr. was an 18-year-old American when he went to Britain in October 1940, during World War II, and joined the Royal Canadian Air Force. He flew in a Spitfire squadron and was killed at age 19, on December 11, 1941, during a training flight from the airfield near Scopwick, Lincolnshire.

The poem was written on the back of a letter to his parents which stated, “I am enclosing a verse I wrote the other day. It started at 30,000 feet, and was finished soon after I landed.”

I am thankful he finished it.


Michael John Smith
Captain
United States Navy
NASA Astronaut

Born
April 30th 1945
Beaufort, North Carolina

Died
January 28th 1986
Pilot
Space Shuttle Challenger

A fitting memorial - for a native of a little seaport town tucked along the Intercoastal Waterway on Taylor Creek, a short way from the Cape Lookout National Seashore (Outer Banks, North Carolina).

I've loaded dozens of pictures into Flickr and will be hours trying to label all the pictures I have taken the past week and few days.


I will be a while catching up with all of you (y'all) - but I want to thank you all for all the wonderful birthday wishes! I was stunned when I got back on-line to find so many well wishes and greeting. I've missed all of you - and saw things that reminded me of you each day while I was away - and will be sharing those things with you soon.