Thursday, February 18, 2010

More memories from Carol

Just dawned on me Uncle Harold's wife's last name was Rice.
Aunt Marguerite Rice.
She was from Winthrop, Ma.
Also, Leora's last when she married was Gelombado, they were divorced and she married Bill Kennedy, She had one child by her first husband Nicolas, the child's name was Nicolas Bruce Gilambado, her second marriage she had four children, Keith, Kevin,Noreen and Mark.
William Bruce Mitchell, Uncle Harold's second child married a women named Betty and I remember they had one child by the name of Craig and I am not sure of the rest of their names.
Aunt Helen lived in Calgary and had to move to British Columbia for a drier climate, she had Arthritis. Her children lived in Toronto and one son was crushed in their cement factory. I know I told you that before. Bruce Price I met and I met Oscar and Aunt Helen. I know they loved horses and John my brother visited them at their farm, it was beautiful, I am sure he could tell you more.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


There were four of us,
Two girls and two boys,
Waiting for Christmas without any fuss,
We knew there wouldn't be many toys.
Our house had burned down and we lost everything.
So we knew there wouldn't be much
for Santa to bring.
Dad got a tree, and we got as busy as a bee,
Making decorations out of cardboard,
wrapping paper and paste,
We had no time to waste.
We strung popcorn on a string,
Dad told the Christmas story and we would all sing.
We went to bed that Christmas Eve,
When we woke up it was hard to believe.
There were presents for all,
I got a sled, books and doll.
That Christmas meant a lot to me,
The love was the most important thing you see.

A poem by May Joan Mitchell Ross Williams. When she was a child, my father Richard convinced Everett that they could do well in Maine. The family moved to the Ridge Road in Littleton, Maine. Evidently the house had been foreclosed on recently. The disgruntled former owner set fire to the house and they lost everything. I guess Everett built a cabin for them to live in. They had very little for a while. Eventually they moved back to Massachusetts as there was little work available.


This is Everett Mitchell many years after this story.

I thought I'd go hunting one lazy day,
Got my rifle and called my dog Tang, and we were away.
Down through the field we went and sat by a tree.
Looking all around to see what we could see.
Been sitting there awhile when I heard a sound.
It was a moose walking out of the woods coming right at me,
Tang growled, as small as he was,
was just as brave as he could be.The moose was a big one with antlers up high.
My heart beat so fast, thought I might die.
I climbed up up the tree shaky and scared,
Tang kept up his bravery and did what he dared.
The moose finally gave up, turned and ran.
It was good to have my little dog of black and tan.

This poem by Mary Joan Mitchell Ross Williams is a true story about her Dad and his dog.

Pickin' Berries

A poem by
Mary Joan Mitchell Ross Williams

Grandmother went to pick berries one day,
She always wore a long dress of black.
My grandfather had gone to pile wood out back,
As he came out to the front door,
Looked way down the field real hard,
Saw a black figure in the shrubs,
He hollered, "Hey, old lady, get me some grub."
There was no answer, so he walked,
Toward the black figure he saw.
And as he got real close, he discovered it wasn't Grandma,
It was a black bear and as he rose up in the air,
You could hear my grandfather holler as he ran,
"Open the door, open the door, it's a bear."

This is a story told to Mary Joan Mitchell Ross by her father Everett Mitchell.

Monday, February 15, 2010


I lived on a farm when I was a lad,
Keeping busy, milking cows, cutting wood.
Doing most of the chores, which wasn't too bad,
There was only Mother, two sisters and two brothers,
So I did what I could.
At night I'd come to the house ready to rest,
Put wood in the stove, get something to eat.
This is the time I enjoyed best.
I'd sit by the fireplace with my dog, Tang at my feet.
I would get my bible down off the shelf.
and start reading God's Word in the peace of the night.
I would read and read to myself,
Laying down on the floor, by the fire so bright.
Before I knew it I had read all of the Good Book.
From cover to cover, surprised me I read it so fast.
Then a few nights later in John, I took another look.
Something happened to me, I accepted Jesus at last.

A Poem about her father by Mary Joan Mitchell Ross Williams.

Sunday, February 14, 2010


These pictures are of my father Richard, but they show the river in Winter.

Skating One Night

My brother and I went skating one night,
On the St. John River, where we got such a fright.
We were laughing and talking, skating along,
when we heard a noise and wondered what was wrong.
We looked up the river in the moonlight,
And to our surprise,
We could see bright green eyes.
as we watched we could see them move.
"It's wolves," my brother hollered real loud.
We started to skate as fast as we could,
I fell once, but at that time, I wasn't proud.
Never skated so fast in my life.
we could hear the barking,
My brother pulled out his hunting knife.
We finally got off of the ice and up on a trail.
I know we started for home, our feet did sail.
We were glad to see our house and ran for the door.
We didn't go skating at night any more.

A poem by Mary Joan Mitchell Ross Williams about her father, Everett and her uncle...either Harold or my father Richard.