Maggie
By Joyce Arlene Gloeckner Badgley
I remember sitting under the big old shade tree at twilight with my Grandfather. The evening breeze was soft and warm. Fireflies twinkled and dogs lay napping at our feet. The work day was finished and it was a time for rest and reflection for my Grandpa. Since I adored him and tended to be his little shadow, I was right there too. It was time for his stories of the old days. We had no TV to watch and this was my entertainment since it would be five years before I would have children to play with in my family. We sat in an old porch swing attached to one of the old tree’s limbs. Since my legs were too short to reach the ground, I was content with the slow rhythmic rocking that my Grandpa controlled.
This night the story was of little Maggie. She was my Grandpa’s younger sister, one of many brothers and sisters that grew up on the family farm. Maggie was one of those shadowy figures from the past that came to life in my Grandfather’s stories, many of which were filled with melancholy. Maggie’s story was no exception.
A young woman “filled with life” was how he described Maggie. I think she might have been somewhat catered to since she was in ill health. Her father, Alonzo Norris, once bought her a little cart with a horse that she was very proud of. That time, long ago, was the era of the early nineteen hundreds. As my Grandfather would talk of her, I could sense a pain in his voice. The cloak of darkness came slowly and enveloped us while the night birds (whippoorwills) sang their melancholy song. The crickets and tree frogs joined with the sounds of night familiar to me.
Time had no meaning for me as I listened and stared into my Grandpa’s eyes trying to picture Maggie’s face when she was riding in her little cart pulled by very own horse. I wondered what she looked like. He told of her best friend, Edna Wolfe (Foster) who lived in Plants, Ohio. In my mind, I could see Maggie riding into town see her friend. I could hear them talking and giggling about the things girls do. Somewhere, in this time frame, Grandpa said, Maggie became engaged to a young man named Carl who was a friend of Edna’s fiancé Charlie.
The sad part of Maggie’s story was that in her teenage years, she somehow contracted Tuberculosis or Consumption, as it was called in those days. No anti-tubercular drugs were available then. The only treatment was one of rest and fresh air. I remember my own Mother telling me that her grandparents had built a screened in porch on the back of the family home so Maggie could sleep there in the cool fresh air with lots of blankets.
Grandpa proceeded with his reminiscences. It seemed Maggie’s condition took a turn for the worse and she became gravely ill. He said that some friends had stopped by one evening and Maggie had walked out by the road to visit with them. (I suppose she could not invite them in because of the infectious nature of her condition.) Some thought she might have “gotten a chill” that evening.
After it was known that Maggie had the contagious TB her friend Edna was not allowed to visit her for fear of catching it. Maggie’s own Mother though would kiss Maggie on the lips in spite of the tuberculosis. She said she did not believe she would ever get sick from her Maggie.
Her condition worsened further and the story ended with Maggie dying in my Grandfather’s arms while he sang the song “God Will Take Care of You”. (Grandpa had a very unique voice and often sang to me as a child.) I believe her fiancée Carl was present also. Everyone took her death very hard. She was only twenty-one years old. She was buried in her wedding dress.
Many years had past since Grandpa’s first telling of Maggie’s story. One day my lifelong friend Miriam telephoned me. Her Mother at this time was very old and weak and was confined to a Care Center. Her Mother was Edna Wolf Foster. Edna was living in the past. Memories of hers and Maggie’s friendship were more vivid to her than the present. Miriam brought out the photographs of the two of them and their sweethearts which had been carefully preserved in a special drawer all these years. In these photos Edna and Maggie each had on their new lace-up boots which they were very proud of. Edna told her daughter that Maggie had lots of expression and was lots of fun. Her hair was somewhat light with a slight reddish cast. Her own husband Charlie, along with Carl had been pallbearers at Maggie’s funeral. Reaching across the years, Edna remembered the deep sense of loss she experienced with her friend’s death.
When Edna died, Miriam brought the photos to me. At last I could see Maggie’s face. On the back of the first photo which showed Maggie sitting in a wicker chair, is the date “Summer of 1918”. The next photo was the “Fall of 1918”. In that last photo, if you look closely, you can see a vulnerable, faraway look in her eyes. Not long after the last photo was taken, Maggie Norris left this world.
Now I have these photos to pass on to my own daughter Margaret Christine….named for her great, great aunt…….Maggie.
Story from "The Badgley Family Journal"
By Joyce Arlene Gloeckner Badgley
I remember sitting under the big old shade tree at twilight with my Grandfather. The evening breeze was soft and warm. Fireflies twinkled and dogs lay napping at our feet. The work day was finished and it was a time for rest and reflection for my Grandpa. Since I adored him and tended to be his little shadow, I was right there too. It was time for his stories of the old days. We had no TV to watch and this was my entertainment since it would be five years before I would have children to play with in my family. We sat in an old porch swing attached to one of the old tree’s limbs. Since my legs were too short to reach the ground, I was content with the slow rhythmic rocking that my Grandpa controlled.
This night the story was of little Maggie. She was my Grandpa’s younger sister, one of many brothers and sisters that grew up on the family farm. Maggie was one of those shadowy figures from the past that came to life in my Grandfather’s stories, many of which were filled with melancholy. Maggie’s story was no exception.
A young woman “filled with life” was how he described Maggie. I think she might have been somewhat catered to since she was in ill health. Her father, Alonzo Norris, once bought her a little cart with a horse that she was very proud of. That time, long ago, was the era of the early nineteen hundreds. As my Grandfather would talk of her, I could sense a pain in his voice. The cloak of darkness came slowly and enveloped us while the night birds (whippoorwills) sang their melancholy song. The crickets and tree frogs joined with the sounds of night familiar to me.
Time had no meaning for me as I listened and stared into my Grandpa’s eyes trying to picture Maggie’s face when she was riding in her little cart pulled by very own horse. I wondered what she looked like. He told of her best friend, Edna Wolfe (Foster) who lived in Plants, Ohio. In my mind, I could see Maggie riding into town see her friend. I could hear them talking and giggling about the things girls do. Somewhere, in this time frame, Grandpa said, Maggie became engaged to a young man named Carl who was a friend of Edna’s fiancé Charlie.
The sad part of Maggie’s story was that in her teenage years, she somehow contracted Tuberculosis or Consumption, as it was called in those days. No anti-tubercular drugs were available then. The only treatment was one of rest and fresh air. I remember my own Mother telling me that her grandparents had built a screened in porch on the back of the family home so Maggie could sleep there in the cool fresh air with lots of blankets.
Grandpa proceeded with his reminiscences. It seemed Maggie’s condition took a turn for the worse and she became gravely ill. He said that some friends had stopped by one evening and Maggie had walked out by the road to visit with them. (I suppose she could not invite them in because of the infectious nature of her condition.) Some thought she might have “gotten a chill” that evening.
After it was known that Maggie had the contagious TB her friend Edna was not allowed to visit her for fear of catching it. Maggie’s own Mother though would kiss Maggie on the lips in spite of the tuberculosis. She said she did not believe she would ever get sick from her Maggie.
Her condition worsened further and the story ended with Maggie dying in my Grandfather’s arms while he sang the song “God Will Take Care of You”. (Grandpa had a very unique voice and often sang to me as a child.) I believe her fiancée Carl was present also. Everyone took her death very hard. She was only twenty-one years old. She was buried in her wedding dress.
Many years had past since Grandpa’s first telling of Maggie’s story. One day my lifelong friend Miriam telephoned me. Her Mother at this time was very old and weak and was confined to a Care Center. Her Mother was Edna Wolf Foster. Edna was living in the past. Memories of hers and Maggie’s friendship were more vivid to her than the present. Miriam brought out the photographs of the two of them and their sweethearts which had been carefully preserved in a special drawer all these years. In these photos Edna and Maggie each had on their new lace-up boots which they were very proud of. Edna told her daughter that Maggie had lots of expression and was lots of fun. Her hair was somewhat light with a slight reddish cast. Her own husband Charlie, along with Carl had been pallbearers at Maggie’s funeral. Reaching across the years, Edna remembered the deep sense of loss she experienced with her friend’s death.
When Edna died, Miriam brought the photos to me. At last I could see Maggie’s face. On the back of the first photo which showed Maggie sitting in a wicker chair, is the date “Summer of 1918”. The next photo was the “Fall of 1918”. In that last photo, if you look closely, you can see a vulnerable, faraway look in her eyes. Not long after the last photo was taken, Maggie Norris left this world.
Now I have these photos to pass on to my own daughter Margaret Christine….named for her great, great aunt…….Maggie.
Story from "The Badgley Family Journal"
Maggie
By Joyce Arlene Gloeckner Badgley
I remember sitting under the big old shade tree at twilight with my Grandfather. The evening breeze was soft and warm. Fireflies twinkled and dogs lay napping at our feet. The work day was finished and it was a time for rest and reflection for my Grandpa. Since I adored him and tended to be his little shadow, I was right there too. It was time for his stories of the old days. We had no TV to watch and this was my entertainment since it would be five years before I would have children to play with in my family. We sat in an old porch swing attached to one of the old tree’s limbs. Since my legs were too short to reach the ground, I was content with the slow rhythmic rocking that my Grandpa controlled.
This night the story was of little Maggie. She was my Grandpa’s younger sister, one of many brothers and sisters that grew up on the family farm. Maggie was one of those shadowy figures from the past that came to life in my Grandfather’s stories, many of which were filled with melancholy. Maggie’s story was no exception.
A young woman “filled with life” was how he described Maggie. I think she might have been somewhat catered to since she was in ill health. Her father, Alonzo Norris, once bought her a little cart with a horse that she was very proud of. That time, long ago, was the era of the early nineteen hundreds. As my Grandfather would talk of her, I could sense a pain in his voice. The cloak of darkness came slowly and enveloped us while the night birds (whippoorwills) sang their melancholy song. The crickets and tree frogs joined with the sounds of night familiar to me.
Time had no meaning for me as I listened and stared into my Grandpa’s eyes trying to picture Maggie’s face when she was riding in her little cart pulled by very own horse. I wondered what she looked like. He told of her best friend, Edna Wolfe (Foster) who lived in Plants, Ohio. In my mind, I could see Maggie riding into town see her friend. I could hear them talking and giggling about the things girls do. Somewhere, in this time frame, Grandpa said, Maggie became engaged to a young man named Carl who was a friend of Edna’s fiancé Charlie.
The sad part of Maggie’s story was that in her teenage years, she somehow contracted Tuberculosis or Consumption, as it was called in those days. No anti-tubercular drugs were available then. The only treatment was one of rest and fresh air. I remember my own Mother telling me that her grandparents had built a screened in porch on the back of the family home so Maggie could sleep there in the cool fresh air with lots of blankets.
Grandpa proceeded with his reminiscences. It seemed Maggie’s condition took a turn for the worse and she became gravely ill. He said that some friends had stopped by one evening and Maggie had walked out by the road to visit with them. (I suppose she could not invite them in because of the infectious nature of her condition.) Some thought she might have “gotten a chill” that evening.
After it was known that Maggie had the contagious TB her friend Edna was not allowed to visit her for fear of catching it. Maggie’s own Mother though would kiss Maggie on the lips in spite of the tuberculosis. She said she did not believe she would ever get sick from her Maggie.
Her condition worsened further and the story ended with Maggie dying in my Grandfather’s arms while he sang the song “God Will Take Care of You”. (Grandpa had a very unique voice and often sang to me as a child.) I believe her fiancée Carl was present also. Everyone took her death very hard. She was only twenty-one years old. She was buried in her wedding dress.
Many years had past since Grandpa’s first telling of Maggie’s story. One day my lifelong friend Miriam telephoned me. Her Mother at this time was very old and weak and was confined to a Care Center. Her Mother was Edna Wolf Foster. Edna was living in the past. Memories of hers and Maggie’s friendship were more vivid to her than the present. Miriam brought out the photographs of the two of them and their sweethearts which had been carefully preserved in a special drawer all these years. In these photos Edna and Maggie each had on their new lace-up boots which they were very proud of. Edna told her daughter that Maggie had lots of expression and was lots of fun. Her hair was somewhat light with a slight reddish cast. Her own husband Charlie, along with Carl had been pallbearers at Maggie’s funeral. Reaching across the years, Edna remembered the deep sense of loss she experienced with her friend’s death.
When Edna died, Miriam brought the photos to me. At last I could see Maggie’s face. On the back of the first photo which showed Maggie sitting in a wicker chair, is the date “Summer of 1918”. The next photo was the “Fall of 1918”. In that last photo, if you look closely, you can see a vulnerable, faraway look in her eyes. Not long after the last photo was taken, Maggie Norris left this world.
Now I have these photos to pass on to my own daughter Margaret Christine….named for her great, great aunt…….Maggie.
Story from "The Badgley Family Journal"
By Joyce Arlene Gloeckner Badgley
I remember sitting under the big old shade tree at twilight with my Grandfather. The evening breeze was soft and warm. Fireflies twinkled and dogs lay napping at our feet. The work day was finished and it was a time for rest and reflection for my Grandpa. Since I adored him and tended to be his little shadow, I was right there too. It was time for his stories of the old days. We had no TV to watch and this was my entertainment since it would be five years before I would have children to play with in my family. We sat in an old porch swing attached to one of the old tree’s limbs. Since my legs were too short to reach the ground, I was content with the slow rhythmic rocking that my Grandpa controlled.
This night the story was of little Maggie. She was my Grandpa’s younger sister, one of many brothers and sisters that grew up on the family farm. Maggie was one of those shadowy figures from the past that came to life in my Grandfather’s stories, many of which were filled with melancholy. Maggie’s story was no exception.
A young woman “filled with life” was how he described Maggie. I think she might have been somewhat catered to since she was in ill health. Her father, Alonzo Norris, once bought her a little cart with a horse that she was very proud of. That time, long ago, was the era of the early nineteen hundreds. As my Grandfather would talk of her, I could sense a pain in his voice. The cloak of darkness came slowly and enveloped us while the night birds (whippoorwills) sang their melancholy song. The crickets and tree frogs joined with the sounds of night familiar to me.
Time had no meaning for me as I listened and stared into my Grandpa’s eyes trying to picture Maggie’s face when she was riding in her little cart pulled by very own horse. I wondered what she looked like. He told of her best friend, Edna Wolfe (Foster) who lived in Plants, Ohio. In my mind, I could see Maggie riding into town see her friend. I could hear them talking and giggling about the things girls do. Somewhere, in this time frame, Grandpa said, Maggie became engaged to a young man named Carl who was a friend of Edna’s fiancé Charlie.
The sad part of Maggie’s story was that in her teenage years, she somehow contracted Tuberculosis or Consumption, as it was called in those days. No anti-tubercular drugs were available then. The only treatment was one of rest and fresh air. I remember my own Mother telling me that her grandparents had built a screened in porch on the back of the family home so Maggie could sleep there in the cool fresh air with lots of blankets.
Grandpa proceeded with his reminiscences. It seemed Maggie’s condition took a turn for the worse and she became gravely ill. He said that some friends had stopped by one evening and Maggie had walked out by the road to visit with them. (I suppose she could not invite them in because of the infectious nature of her condition.) Some thought she might have “gotten a chill” that evening.
After it was known that Maggie had the contagious TB her friend Edna was not allowed to visit her for fear of catching it. Maggie’s own Mother though would kiss Maggie on the lips in spite of the tuberculosis. She said she did not believe she would ever get sick from her Maggie.
Her condition worsened further and the story ended with Maggie dying in my Grandfather’s arms while he sang the song “God Will Take Care of You”. (Grandpa had a very unique voice and often sang to me as a child.) I believe her fiancée Carl was present also. Everyone took her death very hard. She was only twenty-one years old. She was buried in her wedding dress.
Many years had past since Grandpa’s first telling of Maggie’s story. One day my lifelong friend Miriam telephoned me. Her Mother at this time was very old and weak and was confined to a Care Center. Her Mother was Edna Wolf Foster. Edna was living in the past. Memories of hers and Maggie’s friendship were more vivid to her than the present. Miriam brought out the photographs of the two of them and their sweethearts which had been carefully preserved in a special drawer all these years. In these photos Edna and Maggie each had on their new lace-up boots which they were very proud of. Edna told her daughter that Maggie had lots of expression and was lots of fun. Her hair was somewhat light with a slight reddish cast. Her own husband Charlie, along with Carl had been pallbearers at Maggie’s funeral. Reaching across the years, Edna remembered the deep sense of loss she experienced with her friend’s death.
When Edna died, Miriam brought the photos to me. At last I could see Maggie’s face. On the back of the first photo which showed Maggie sitting in a wicker chair, is the date “Summer of 1918”. The next photo was the “Fall of 1918”. In that last photo, if you look closely, you can see a vulnerable, faraway look in her eyes. Not long after the last photo was taken, Maggie Norris left this world.
Now I have these photos to pass on to my own daughter Margaret Christine….named for her great, great aunt…….Maggie.
Story from "The Badgley Family Journal"
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