Gabriel's Farewell Visit

Gabriel’s Farewell Visit

I looked up and there he stood, in an open field about halfway between the barn and the house. How long he had been watching me I don’t know, but his manner seemed to reflect a question. “Should I go closer or should I just turn and leave” is what he appeared to be contemplating.

Recognizing his indecision I walked toward him and opened the cattle gate. As I moved closer he turned to run almost as if he did not recognize or recognize me. When I called “Gabriel”, he stopped as if hearing something out of the past.

The name Gabriel was intended to be synonymous with Angel, which is what my wife Bettye wanted to call him when we brought him home as a kitten. Thinking Angel was not an appropriate name for a male cat we comprised on Gabriel. His long black hair with white markings made him stand out as something unusual on the farm and the odor of skunks became quite common around out place as they apparently came by to see if Gabriel was one of their species.

His nature was also unusual; in fact his attachment to me was more like that of a dog. When I would go out to check the cattle fences, which I often did on rainy days, Gabriel would be close behind. Even when I made the infrequent rounds up through the woods on the backside of the place he followed every step of the way.

The cattle evidently considered him a threat because they would chase him if he came near. One day when it had been raining and the creek that ran through the meadow behind our house was near the top of its banks Gabriel had lagged had lagged behind to investigate some new discovery. The cattle, sensing I was not nearby to protect him, encircled Gabriel until his only means of escape was to swim the swollen creek, which he did not hesitate to do.

Perhaps it is time to reflect on what had transpired between then when we were inseparable and now as we face each other almost as strangers. Gabriel’s heaven began to develop storm clouds when we took in a second cat needing a home, a yellow shorthaired male kitten. Bettye named him “Sunshine”, a name that bore no relation to what he brought into Gabriel’s life.

At first Gabriel made Sunshine’s life miserable as might be expected when a male cat’s territory is being invaded. But as Sunshine grew larger and larger the tables began to turn. The loose cat fur around the woodshed began to change from yellow to black and white. The psychological effect on Gabriel was devastating. He stopped eating, his hair no longer sparkled and his overall demeanor changed. He retreated to the barn to sleep and would disappear for days and eventually weeks at a time.

But here once again he stood, the contrast between his long black and white hair as it once had been. “Gabriel” I called again, and he answered with that throaty rattling sound he used to communicate. One of his traits was to answer everything I said and if I went for sometime without speaking he would initiate the conversation. He looked at me, rattled one of his greetings, and lay down and rolled over on his back for me to tickle his belly. It took but a few seconds for us to be fully engaged in a conversation he probably understood much better than I.

His feeding dish was still in its usual place and I opened a can of his favorite cat food, which he patiently waited for me to prepare. As had been the custom, he would not start eating until I patted him on the head.

Leaving him to eat, it was perhaps thirty minutes before I returned to the shed where I left him to resume our reunion. After calling and receiving no response I looked toward the barn and he was about where I had first seen him an hour earlier. When he turned and took a few steps away I knew he was leaving, probably for the last time. I think he too sensed this would be his final farewell for he moved slowly, stopping every few feet to look back. In the time it took to brush away a tear he was gone, thus ending a special relationship I share with you from memory.

It was a cold January day some three years later that I found him, lying face down in the garden. He could have been resting but the ice crystals covering his back indicated something was terribly wrong. Whether he was hit by a car, poisoned by an unknown substance or had encountered some other fate will never be known.

I buried him on the southwest side of a large tree near the center of the forest where he had frequently accompanied me in happier times.  The afternoon sun shone down through the leafless trees and reflected off his long black and white hair, which, even in death continued to sparkle.

It did not seem proper that he be buried alone here in a gravesite known only to myself. Not wanting to leave just yet I began to carve his name on the trunk of a tree under which he now lay. As I finished carving the date it suddenly became darker. As the shadows lengthened, it was time that one must go and one must stay. This was my final farewell. There would be no more wondering, no more hopeful glances toward the barn. The feeding dish can now be put away.

The winter will pass and next spring when the forest comes to life Gabriel’s tree will undoubtedly be shrouded in green. Then all who pass this way to stop and rest in its shade will read and know, this is a special place. 

Paul Wade - January 10, 1998

In rememberence of dad, Paul Wade

I just wanted to post this short video, which is a collection of pictures taken over the years throughout Paul Wade's life with farm scenes interspersed between them. 

While it's not one of our farms, it is very similar to them.  There's even one old windmill still standing in the Rogers Creek Valley, over on the Eddie Bohannon III farm.  Each time I ride past it on the bicycle and the wind is blowing, I can hear a bearing squeak that seems to cry out for lube.

Tranquility Methodist Church (Athens, TN)

Paul Wade at 2012 Homecoming*

I stopped by last week to see Mary Ratledge so I could leave a donation for the Tranquility Methodist Church Cemetery Fund.  In the process of checking what dad had written about the church in the past, I came across the post entitled: THE LITTLE WHITE CHURCH ON THE HILL.  Noticing there was no picture of the church in that post, I managed to turn up a photograph I'd taken back in 2012, that even had dad in it!

Mary informed me that the following had made donations for the upkeep of the grounds there, in Paul's name:

Marvin and Samme Templin

Walter David Clarke

Eula Peavyhouse

Lula Herron Swann

Kenneth and Linda Clarke

Bradley Health Care

Tranquility Methodist Church always held a special place in dad's heart.  After all, he was able to frequent the same church where his own Great-Great Grandfather had sat and listened to sermons from the pulpit.  I myself have been to the church, in which my Great-Great-Great Grandfather James Wade attended during his lifetime.

In these modern times when people are so busy running to and fro, and so very few buildings even remain from over 100 years ago...it's actually quite a treat to be able to frequent the church of your own ancestors.  I'm sure dad is pleased with the contributions to the Tranquility Methodist Church and I myself hope it stands for several more generations to come.

If any others are interested in helping The Little White Church on the Hill, contributions may be made to Tranquility Methodist Church, c/o Mary Ratledge, 433 County Rd. 218, Athens, TN 37303-7855

*Homecoming for Tranquility Methodist Church will be on May 18th this year.

Paul Wade, (W4FYF)  of Decatur, passed away on Wednesday, March 26, 2014, surrounded by his children, only a few feet away from where he was born 83 years ago.

A native and resident of Decatur for most of his life, he was a son of the late Fred Silas and Maggie Lee Wattenbarger Wade, and attended Tranquility Methodist Church. He was a great-great-grandson of James Wade, Michael Wattenbarger, Jonathon Thomas, John Hart, George P. Owen, Samuel McKeehan and Moses Snyder, all settlers of northwest McMinn County. He was a former member of the Future Farmers of America, the American Society of Mechanical Engineers, the Instrument Society of America, the National Management Association and the Electric Power Research Institute.

He was a career employee of the Tennessee Valley Authority, having worked at Watts Bar, Widows Creek, Johnsonville, Shawnee and Bull Run Fossil plants. In 1984, he left the position of plant superintendent at Bull Run Steam Plant near Oak Ridge to become manager of TVA's Fossil Operations in Chattanooga. He retired in 1988 as director of the Division of Fossil and Hydro Power with responsibility for fossil operations, hydro operations, maintenance and engineering and fossil fuels planning.

Although a mechanical engineer by profession, he was a mechanic by nature in the true Wade tradition. His way of life reflected his belief that an imperfect world with freedom to choose is preferable to a perfect world without choice.

Survivors include his wife of 62 years, Bettye Jean Williams Wade of Athens; one son, A.D. Wade and his girlfriend, Betty Jo Whitehead, of Decatur; daughter and son-in-law, Debbie and Mike Brooks of Knoxville; and one granddaughter, Kari Nicole Brooks and her boyfriend, Greg Culin, of Knoxville.

Graveside services will be 2 p.m. Saturday, March 29, at Thomas Family Cemetery in the Rogers Creek community with the Rev. Bruce Vincent officiating.

The family will receive friends from noon to 1:30 p.m. at Laycock-Hobbs Funeral Home before the graveside service.

In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to Tranquility Methodist Church, c/o Mary Ratledge, 433 County Rd. 218, Athens, TN 37303-7855; or through the office of Laycock-Hobbs Funeral Home.

The family would like to express a special thanks to Caris Healthcare for their sympathetic support and guidance.

Condolences may be sent to www.laycock-hobbs.com

Laycock-Hobbs Funeral Home of Athens is in charge of arrangements.

Canaan's Land

As I stand where the old church once stood and look out across the valley I can still hear, "On Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand And Cast A Wishful Eye, Toward Canaan's Fair And Happy Land Where My Possessions Lie."

Remembering the feel of new shoes on my feet, in my mind it is once again Homecoming Day at Rogers Creek."

With my eyes closed I look to my left and see my grandmother Gussie coming up the dusty road and crossing the old wooden bridge over the creek. She stops to rest in the shade of a large hickory tree beside the road as she is tired after the long walk from her big white house on top of the hill across the valley.

With my eyes still closed I look directly ahead and see the large yellow banner advertising Nehi that has been nailed along the front of Papa Wattenbarger's store porch. A dark skinned man from Athens is selling soft drinks and ice cream to the children lined up in front of the old porch.

I reach in my pocket and find the nickel that has been given to me for the occasion and take my place in line behind Jimmy, Ralph and Billie Rose. When the man hands me a cone of vanilla ice cream I give him my nickel, letting the ice cream melt and run down over my fingers before taking the first bite. I know the man will not be back again until next year.

I hear a squeaking sound and turn around to see Papa Wattenbarger sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch of his house just across the road from the store. I then smell something cooking and know Mama Wattenbarger is preparing dinner for all who will eat at her table today.

Coming Back to reality I realize this was a six year old boy's Canaan's Land, the best place on earth to be. I open my eyes hoping to see it once more as it was, but only empty fields lie before me. Where have all the people gone?

I search my fading memory and realize Gussie now lies on the hill behind me and near great grandpa John Hart and not far from Barg, Thelma and Agnes. Across the road at top of the hill to my right lies Jonathan and Jane, Marshal and Caroline, Jacob and Louisa, Grant and Lizzie, Maggie and Fred, Bobbye, Charlie and Aunt Dixie, who lived to be the oldest of all. Memories spanning 200 years of history they have taken to their graves.

I remember long ago when the church toll bell sounded across the valley all would stop to listen and wonder, for whom does it toll. Today I do not wonder. I know it tolls for me. "I Am Bound For The Promised Land, O Who Will Come And Go With Me, I Am Bound For The Promised Land." ------ "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, Blessed be the name of the Lord."

To the family I leave behind I give my love and take pride in who you are. And last I pray that future generations will know and honor our family's history that has at times been written in blood mixed with tears.

PAUL WADE (December 12, 1930 - March 26, 2014)

Paul Wade - Canaan's Land

Paul Wade, of Decatur, passed away on Wednesday, March 26, 2014, surrounded by his children, only a few feet away from where he was born 83 years ago.

A native and resident of Decatur for most of his life, he was a son of the late Fred Silas and Maggie Lee Wattenbarger Wade, and attended Tranquility Methodist Church. He was a great-great-grandson of James Wade, Michael Wattenbarger, Jonathon Thomas, John Hart, George P. Owen, Samuel McKeehan and Moses Snyder, all settlers of northwest McMinn County. He was a former member of the Future Farmers of America, the American Society of Mechanical Engineers, the Instrument Society of America, the National Management Association and the Electric Power Research Institute.

He was a career employee of the Tennessee Valley Authority, having worked at Watts Bar, Widows Creek, Johnsonville, Shawnee and Bull Run Fossil plants. In 1984, he left the position of Plant Superintendent at Bull Run Steam Plant near Oak Ridge to become manager of TVA's Fossil Operations in Chattanooga. He retired in 1988 as director of the Division of Fossil and Hydro Power with responsibility for Fossil Operations, Hydro Operations, Maintenance and Engineering and Fossil Fuels Planning.

Although a Mechanical Engineer by profession, he was a mechanic by nature in the true Wade tradition. His way of life reflected his belief that an imperfect world with freedom to choose, is preferable to a perfect world without choice.
 
In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to Tranquility Methodist Church, c/o Mary Ratledge, 433 County Rd. 218, Athens, TN 37303-7855; or through the office of Laycock-Hobbs Funeral Home in Athens, Tennessee.

The family would like to express a special thanks to Caris Healthcare for their sympathetic support and guidance. Condolences may be sent to www.laycock-hobbs.com

Canaan's Land

As I stand where the old church once stood and look out across the valley I can still hear, "On Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand And Cast A Wishful Eye, Toward Canaan's Fair And Happy Land Where My Possessions Lie." Remembering the feel of new shoes on my feet, in my mind it is once again Homecoming Day at Rogers Creek."

With my eyes closed I look to my left and see my grandmother Gussie coming up the dusty road and crossing the old wooden bridge over the creek. She stops to rest in the shade of a large hickory tree beside the road as she is tired after the long walk from her big white house on top of the hill across the valley.

With my eyes still closed I look directly ahead and see the large yellow banner advertising Nehi that has been nailed along the front of Papa Wattenbarger's store porch. A dark skinned man from Athens is selling soft drinks and ice cream to the children lined up in front of the old porch.

I reach in my pocket and find the nickel that has been given to me for the occasion and take my place in line behind Jimmy, Ralph and Billie Rose. When the man hands me a cone of vanilla ice cream I give him my nickel, letting the ice cream melt and run down over my fingers before taking the first bite. I know the man will not be back again until next year.

I hear a squeaking sound and turn around to see Papa Wattenbarger sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch of his house just across the road from the store. I then smell something cooking and know Mama Wattenbarger is preparing dinner for all who will eat at her table today.

Coming Back to reality I realize this was a six year old boy's Canaan's Land, the best place on earth to be. I open my eyes hoping to see it once more as it was, but only empty fields lie before me. Where have all the people gone?

I search my fading memory and realize Gussie now lies on the hill behind me and near great grandpa John Hart and not far from Barg, Thelma and Agnes. Across the road at top of the hill to my right lies Jonathan and Jane, Marshal and Caroline, Jacob and Louisa, Grant and Lizzie, Maggie and Fred, Bobbye, Charlie and Aunt Dixie, who lived to be the oldest of all. Memories spanning 200 years of history they have taken to their graves.

I remember long ago when the church toll bell sounded across the valley all would stop to listen and wonder, for whom does it toll. Today I do not wonder. I know it tolls for me. "I Am Bound For The Promised Land, O Who Will Come And Go With Me, I Am Bound For The Promised Land." ------ "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, Blessed be the name of the Lord."

To the family I leave behind I give my love and take pride in who you are. And last I pray that future generations will know and honor our family's history that has at times been written in blood mixed with tears.

PAUL WADE (December 12, 1930 - March 26, 2014)

AUNT LOU’S HOUSE IS NO MORE

 

    Louisa Owen was the youngest child of Marshal and Caroline Thomas Owen, having been born February 26, 1867. She married Samuel Brickell and together they reared five children on part of the Marshal Owen property she and Samuel later acquired title to following Marshal’s death in 1892.

    After Louisa’s death in 1950 the Brickell house and farm was bought by one of Louisa’s granddaughter’s and her husband who had a new house constructed. Since then the old house has mostly sat empty and abandoned. That granddaughter recently passed away and the house was purchased by the owner of the surrounding property, who had the house torn down and the undergrowth removed.

    Marshal Owen at one time owned all of the land on both sides of what is now McMinn County Road 181 from County Road 186 to County Road 189, comprising about six hundred acres. Starting at Marshal and and Caroline’s place moving west, the houses were in this order: Marshal and Caroline, W. D. and Jane Owen Wade, Samuel and Louisa Owen Brickell, W. C. and Harriet Owen Hughes, and last, Thomas and Martha Ellen Wade Owen. The original houses have either burned or been torn down over the years until the only original house left standing was that of Samuel and Louisa. Now, it too is gone.

    For years I have passed the house walking and before it became so overgrown would sometimes seek shelter on the front porch when I would unexpectedly be caught in a rain shower. While standing waiting for the shower to pass I would fondly recall my weekly visits to the Brickell house where I was sent by my mother to pick up a pound of butter from “Aunt Lou”. I remember her as a kind and gentle lady.

Spradling Home Place

The above drawing of the Spradling Home was made by Dr. Lewis W. Sradling from memory in October of 1932, some seventeen years after the house burned in 1915. William S. Spradling, son of Richard Spradling Jr., was living in the house with his family when it burned, but all escaped without injury. The house was located on a small bluff approximately three hundred feet west of the intersection of current McMinn County Roads 185 and 187.

    It is believed Lewis made the drawing for his Aunt Mary Tennessee Spradling who married William Thomas Land. Mary Tennessee could vividly recall and relate events of the Civil War and how the soldiers came to their home and confiscated much of their food. Mary Tennessee, the daughter of Richard Sprading Jr., went to live with her son, Robert Taylor Land, some time after the death of her husband in 1900.

    Hanging on the wall of the Land home in Athens was the drawing of the Spradling Homeplace. Mary Tennessee died in 1943 at the age of ninety and the house where she lived was eventually torn down to make way for the widening of the highway and also a doctor’s office. Fortunately the drawing was saved and taken to the home of Mary Tennessee’s granddaughter Madlyne in Chattanooga.

    When Madlyne entered a nursing home her children thought the best place for the drawing was back at the old homeplace where “Aunt Tenn” grew up one hundred and fifty years ago. Consequently they brought it to Richard and Billie Jean Land who currently reside on part of the Spradling homeplace.

THOMAS FAMILY CEMETERY

The Thomas Family Cemetery is located northeast of Rogers Creek Baptist Church on a hill behind the house built by Jonathan Thomas about 1840. Brick for the house were formed by slaves around the spring that flows from beneath the red clay hillside. The water that flows from the spring comprises a significant part of the headwaters of Rogers Creek.

Fifty-five identifiable graves can be found in the cemetery, four of which have unmarked field headstones. Each represent a father, mother or child which undoubtedly were laid to rest with sadness and sorrow.


The following is a listing of those persons in the order of their passing, starting with Jonathan Thomas in 1864. While the century in which they died has twice changed, the sorrow felt by those left behind is not lessened by generation. It is natural to die and it is natural to grieve. It is with love, respect and honor that we remember.

Name------------------- Born---------- Died

Jonathan Thomas - 07/25/1800 - 01/11/1864
Mary Ann Owen - 02/09/1863 - 02/23/1865
Elizabeth Owen - 08/30/1855 - 02/08/1867
Infant Son of M C Owen - 06/01/1869 - 06/01/1869
Emma E Thomas - 11/22/1872 - 11/20/1873
Mary M Thomas - 06/26/1875 - 10/17/1875
Texas Ann W Cagle - 12/28/1859 - 08/24/1878
James Thomas - 03/23/1859 - 10/04/1879
John Hughes - 10/06/1879 - 10/30/1879
Jane Thomas (86 Years) / / 11/24/1883
Infant Son of W C Hughes - 05/02/1886 - 05/02/1886
Caroline Thomas Owen - 10/19/1830 - 02/19/1889
Marshal C. Owen - 10/13/1833 - 06/30/1892
Louisa Thomas Wattenbarger - 07/10/1828 - 03/24/1893
Frank Thomas - 07/27/1862 - 05/15/1894
Bonnie Mae Wattenbarger - 05/07/1895 - 08/16/1895
Twin Infant Wattenbargers -10/01/1898 - 10/01/1898
Charlie Hughes - 09/15/1892 - 10/09/1898
Henry Creed Wattenbarger - 05/02/1896 - 01/06/1899
Infant Daughter of W C Hughes - 03/17/1900 - 03/17/1900
Harriet Fike - 09/23/1832 - 02/22/1901
Horace Thomas - 10/09/1882 - 11/28/1904
Jacob Wattenbarger - 05/05/1826 - 10/15/1905
Infant Daughter of J Thomas - 10/16/1907 - 02/02/1908
Mary Thomas Lankford - 11/06/1864 - 02/07/1909
Samuel A Brickell - 12/07/1860 - 06/18/1916
Carson D Hughes - 12/26/1913 - 02/10/1922
Alfred C Thomas - 1836 - 1924
Malinda Thomas - 1839 - 1924
Frank Thomas (Not found) 1860 -  1930
James H Thomas - 06/02/1868 - 12/03/1948
Louisa E Brickell - 02/26/1867 - 12/22/1950
James Grant Wattenbarger - 04/17/1866 - 04/29/1955
James Alfred Thomas - 08/04/1909 - 01/01/1957
Sallie Legg Thomas -10/06/1872 - 10/19/1957
Mary E Hart Wattenbarger - 02/05/1875 - 12/29/1959
Fred S Wade - 07/29/1898 - 02/20/1976
Lonna Mae Thomas Bohannon - 08/04/1902 - 04/21/1978
Phyllis Boyd Bohannon - 11/16/1926 - 11/15/1980
Edgar B Bohannon - 10/11/1898 - 04/20/1982
Rev. Murry Conrad Morgan - 05/21/1909 - 12/09/1982
Matthew Daniel McVey - 08/18/1987 - 08/18/1987
Bobbye Runyon Gilbert - 05/29/1935 - 09/16/1989
Maggie Wattenbarger W Morgan - 02/08/1910 - 01/05/1992
Rev. Charles Scott Runyon - 08/24/1905 - 11/04/1994
Eliza Bohannon Thomas - 10/17/1910 - 01/26/2001
Alma Paisley Thomas - 07/21/1928 - 07/12/2008
James Burkett Thomas - 02/03/1929 - 08/05/2009
Edgar B Bohannon, Jr. - 08/12/1924 - 01/19/2011
Dixie Wattenbarger Runyon - 07/14/1913 - 06/16/2012

AUNT DIXIE (1913 - 2012)

A lady bent and drawn with age sits in a wheel chair just inside the door of her granddaughter’s home. When someone enters she asks, “Do you have a car?” If the answer is yes, she then pleads, “Will you take me home?”

The home Aunt Dixie longs for is a place most do not know ever existed. Its location was approximately eight miles northwest of downtown Athens at the intersection of current County Roads 180 and 187. There Dixie’s father, J. G. Wattenbarger, once operated a country store which also served as Fiketon Post Office. Though all traces of the original structures are gone, the location is still designated on some maps as Fiketon.

In 1849 Dixie’s grandfather, Jacob Wattenbarger, traveled a few miles south from his parent’s home in the Tranquility community and married Louisa Thomas, daughter of plantation owner Jonathan Thomas. Jacob and Louisa acquired property from Jonathan in the vicinity of Rogers Creek Baptist Church and built a log house where they reared their family.

When the Civil War broke out, Jacob faced a dilemma. Being from the Tranquility Community, which supported the Union, he was living at the very center of a community which supported the South. Jacob hid out in the hills above his home to elude conscription into the Confederate Army and sometimes slept in a cave that to this day bears his name.

Dixie’s other grandfather was John Hart whose property joined that of her grandfather Jacob. John Hart was a strong southern supporter and fought with the Confederacy during the Civil War, enduring the Siege of Vicksburg and other battles. John Hart and Jacob Wattenbarger were each sincere in their beliefs. Now the two former adversaries lie on opposing hillsides, separated by the community that now only exists in the mind of Aunt Dixie.

Yesterday Dixie Wattenbarger Runyon returned to Fiketon and now lies at rest beside her husband Charlie and daughter Bobbye in the family cemetery overlooking her childhood home. It was a custom in Dixie’s grandfather’s day that one toll of the church bell be sounded for each year the deceased had lived. As Dixie was laid to rest, ninety-eight tolls rang out across the valley.

LOUISA SPRADLING WADE BRANDON

 

 Louisa Spradling

    Louisa Spradling was born to Richard Spradling and Elizabeth (Beaver) Baber in Virginia about 1808. She married James Wade in Albermarle County, Virginia, October 26, 1827. The following year with Louisa’ parents they moved to an area a few miles south of what is now known as Tranquility and settled on approximately three hundred acres south of and adjoining the property of Michael and Nancy Wattenbarger.

    Louisa’s parents settled on several hundred acres adjoining and to the south of the Wade place. The stream that was later to become known as Rogers Creek originated in the Wade spring from which the family got their water.

    Louisa bore five children to James before he died October 29, 1842. The ages of the children ranged from fourteen (William) down to James who was only two years old. There were four boys and one girl who they named Malinda. Malinda was also later known as Linny and eventually Minnie after she moved to Texas.

    Louisa then married Hiram Brandon, a “Minister of the Gospel” September 1, 1845. Hiram’s name is listed as one of those who helped organize Tranquility Methodist Church in 1848. The family appears in the census records of surrounding counties in the following years evidently as Hiram moved when he was called to different churches. The Wade children eventually disappeared from the Brandon census records and were replaced by the five children Louisa bore to Hiram.

    It is believed Hiram died sometime after 1889 and we know from the records  available Louisa died July 14, 1897, at approximately age ninety. We do not know where Louisa was living when she died or where she is buried. In a document dated July 20, 1897, and signed by five Brandon descendants, Louisa’s belongings were assigned to Silas to dispose of and distribute any remaining proceeds, above that required to meet expenses, to the rightful heirs. From this I surmise Louisa was probably living in the Mt. Zion area where other Brandon family members are buried.

    Silas paid his cousin Richard Spradling Jr. $1.00 to “Cry” the sale of Louisa’s belongings that were not divided among the heirs. The sale brought in $39.00. Silas paid James Colens $7.50 for Louisa’s “cofin”. He paid Steve Brandon $1.00 for “feeding the hogs”. He paid A. Wattenbarger $2.97 for “buring close”. He paid E. L. Harmon for 8 days $5.00 doctor bill. He pade out to Steve for “mesh” 50 cents. Total paid out  $17.97.

    Equally of interest is how this information is still with us. Following Silas’ death in 1902 his only living son, W. D. Wade, was appointed the administrator of his estate. W. D. gathered up all of Silas’ papers and notes, placed them in an old cardboard suitcase, and brought them down to his home in Rogers Creek.

    A few years later W. D. and his cousin W. S. Sradling formed a partnership and opened a “country store” out of the W. D.’s former father-in-law Marshal C. Owen’s house which he had purchased from his sister-in-law, Angeline Owen Campell. The attic of the old house was used for storage and that is where Silas’ old cardboard suitcase was placed.

    And there the suitcase remained until 1989 when Bettye and I tore down the old Owen house to make way for the new house. I looked through some of the papers and found Silas’ “Grand Army of the Republic” medal and many documents and records.     Also, there was one picture in the suitcase. Obviously someone who was important to both Silas and his son W. D. The fading tintype picture was of a lady who appears to be about ninety years old. Her face reflects the hardships of her life. Her eyes penetrate ones soul. Could this be Silas’ mother, Louisa Spradling Wade Brandon?