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Memorials
Daddy, oh daddy, how special you were to me,
Many years ago on Father’s Day, you stepped out into eternity.
I still miss you daddy, in my heart there is an empty place,
I miss those little laughter lines etched so deeply in your face.
You sacrificed so much for us, what a treasure we had,
kind and gentle, full of joy, you always were a super dad.
“Beyond The Sunset”, you often sang as you strummed your old guitar,
I feel peace because I know that that is where you are.
Will the circle be unbroken when we reach the other side?
Not by me for I have claimed the Blood of Jesus, the Savior, the crucified.
It is my constant and fervent plea,
that those we love will choose the Lord, heaven’s only key.
By: Lillian Carol Russell
My dad died in 1984 from cancer, a battle he fought for over five years. He was the greatest! We were not wealthy, yet I never knew that. He was a child at heart and never lost his fascination with figuring out how things work.
In 1964, he was working at a sawmill when a fellow worker leaned on a switch and accidentally turned on a large saw he was leaning over. It cut off his left hand, cut through his chest to within an inch of his heart, slashed him through the right knee and left elbow. Everyone panicked except daddy. He grasped the nub of his left arm and ran the length of a football field to the office. When he ran in there spewing blood, the boss’s wife panicked as all the other workers had. He ran to the rest room got a towel and wrapped it tightly into the gashed elbow. Thank God he never lost his presence of mind. They rushed him to a nearby clinic where Dr. C. G. Forrest patched him up enough to make it to a hospital in New Orleans. Three weeks later he walked me down the isle to become the bride of the man I’ve been married to since October 17, 1964. Daddy was weak, I felt his body tremble as we made that walk. He wanted to do it, he was just that way. He was always there for my sister and me; in fact he was there for everyone.
I saw him cry once after losing his hand. He dropped a wash towel and reached to pick it up with the missing hand. The nerves stay alive for about a year, it feels as if the missing hand is still there. He cried for a few minutes and then went on about his business. He had a hook that he wore and he continued to do the work he had always done.
In 1967 I had my first baby, a boy and oh was my daddy proud of his grandson. He had taught him how to take a lawnmower apart and put it back together by the time he was nine years old. When we found out he had cancer, I was devastated. There were lots of surgeries and treatments in the following years. The waiting rooms at the hospital were always overflowing. Doctors told us they had never seen such a large and close knit family. They told us he had about six months and the Lord gave us an extra five years and six months to say good-bye. Daddy spent this time as he always had putting family first. There were lots of week-end fishing trips to Grand Isle. He now had two grandchildren and they were a joy and a delight to him in those last years.
He grew up in a family of twelve children. He had more nieces and nephews than you could shake a stick at. He loved them all and had pet names for almost every one of them. One cousin always kept his pants pulled up real high and he called him high-pockets. There was one he called whistle-britches, we won’t go into how he got that name.
Daddy only went to school through the 3rd grade. He was one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever known.. If you could dream it, he could build it. I only wonder what he might have done given the opportunity of a good education. He was a top-notch mechanic, carpenter, electrician, a whiz at math and even refurbished furniture. He built houses, boats, campers, guitars, toys and electric fans. He even cut an old car up, welded roll bars on it and built a dune buggy for the grandchildren. He never lacked for work, many people sought him for his many skills. He built us a window fan one summer that would have put “Tim The Tool Man Taylor” to shame. It sucked the rug up off the floor and put the lights out on our pet cat Sally. It was a mean machine; he had to tone it down a bit.
Christmas mornings we always got lots of new toys. Only now do I realize how hard he had to work to accomplish making our dreams come true. I remember daddy sitting many afternoons and reading his Bible aloud. I have the assurance of seeing him again when I get to heaven. He was a God fearing Christian man who had accepted Jesus.
Daddy had a most amazing young doctor by the name of James Nelson. His first surgery on daddy was a colostomy but the cancer had spread and there would be many hours spent in this very capable doctor’s hands. When all had been done that could be done, Dr. Nelson allowed him to come home. He came out every week to visit daddy. In fact, when he drew his last breath, Dr Nelson was there, sitting by his bedside.
Dedicated to Joan, Shirley, Lloyd & Dennis and their families:
(In memory of their parents;
My Daddy's brother; L.W. McDaniel & his wife Martha.)
“MEMORIES of AUNT MARTHA and UNCLE "BILL”
(Together forever on heaven's golden shore)
By: Lillian Carol Russell
Looking back on my childhood days, I realize that my dad’s family ran a child labor camp and it was the greatest thing any child could ever experience. My dad came from a family of 12 siblings, when his dad died I was 13 and I had at that time 46 first cousins as best I can count. Now I have no idea how many cousins I have. These Aunts and Uncles were scattered about Louisiana and Mississippi.
It was before the time of convenience stores and everyone grew their own food and canned it for the winter. Life was good back then. When the beans came in we went to visit Uncle Bill & Aunt Martha in Mississippi, both have now joined the rest of the family, on the golden shore. Only one sister remains of their generation.
Now you talk about some good times, these were the good old days. When we spent time with our cousins and helped with the canning. The grown-ups picked the beans and brought them in. They dumped them into a mountain and we kids sat round in a circle shelling into our pans. There was the thrill of who could shell the most the fastest. Nobody told us we were working, but there was this one day that we kind of figured it out. After a couple of days of shelling peas someone got what we all thought was a brilliant idea! I think it was Joan, but we all thought it was a smart thing to do. We would hide unshelled peas in the hulls, get through sooner and go out to play.
We didn’t count on Aunt Martha being so smart. When she dumped the hulls, oh my! We got to see her have a finger wagging full blown conniption fit and it was scary. It was also one of those life lessons that I will never forget. She explained how those beans were their sustenance for the winter and that we were never to waste food like that, plus a lot of other things we all needed to hear. I have such beautiful memories of those visits with Uncle Bill and Aunt Martha.
Some of my fondest memories happened while staying there. Oh the stories I could tell of adventures in those Mississippi hills, like the night my cousin Joan and I decided to take a chair out into the field and gaze at the stars. A circus train had wrecked in the woods behind their home and wild animals had escaped a few years before. We were trying to pick out the constellations and dreaming the dreams that young hearts dream. Discussing when we grow up scenarios, when not too far away, we heard the roar of some large animal. We bolted for the house, arriving at the back door at the same time. This was a narrow back door and we lodged, neither wanting to be the last one in, both of us scratched our arms before we catapulted through by force of will.
Aunt Martha cooked some of the best meals, her table always spread with plenty of rib sticking meat gravy and vegetables. You never left her table hungry. Oh to go back to that dinner table for one more visit of laughter and good times. I remember when she was pouring the iced tea she poured Uncle Bill’s first, he drank it all while she poured the rest, then he would say; “Marty, you’re not going to give me any tea?”
I remember one winter morning we had spent the weekend there and all us girls slept on pallets in the living room. I always slept with my knees drawn up, that morning I woke up to find uncle Bill sitting in front of the heater using my knees as a back rest while he strummed his guitar and sang, “Tumbling Tumble Weeds”. He had such a beautiful voice. It has been one of my favorite songs ever since. Now that I've moved to Texas I get to see a lot of those tumble weeds.
I thank God for the wonderful memories of days spent at Aunt Martha and Uncle Bill's Mississippi home. Child labor; it was a good thing; it taught us lessons that made us who we are today. it is one of the things that’s gone away, part of the old days, but it left a beautiful memory in my heart’s treasure.
Sweet Memories
By: Lillian Carol Russell
Uncle Bill and Aunt Martha, you were so much a part of who I am today,
Sweet memories overtake me as I think of you and things you taught, even hauling hay.
Laughter rang within those walls for all us kids to hear,
Life was good back then and days were so full of cheer.
I never had a clue just how soon the time would be gone,
And we the happy children would have families of our own.
You made it look so easy, with wisdom you banished our fears,
But we would soon know sorrow in the quickly flying years.
Aunt Martha it was in January 2008, you left for glory land,
Uncle Bill you followed in August, now I picture you happy, hand in hand.
Together ever always with Jesus & loved ones forever more,
And someday I will be there too, on heavens golden shore.
As I write these words my eyes are filled, my heart is so full too,
Thankful for every memory and every moment spent with you.
Psalm 34:4,5 …"I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered in shame"
Aunt Chloe, wife of my daddy's brother R.C.
Uncle R.C. was the first of the 12 siblings to pass away.
By: Lillian Carol Russell
January 2009
I have many beautiful memories of staying with Aunt Chloe during cucumber picking time. Our parents were so smart to use kid sharing as a way to help out at garden time. Some of my fondest memories are working as a child, it always seemed like play.
Aunt Chloe & Uncle R.C. ran a dairy back then in the late 40's and early 50's, and there was always sweet milk to drink and heavy cream to pour over the hot biscuits with syrup. I remember waking to the smell of bacon frying and biscuits fresh from the oven. I loved staying at their house. After breakfast, we got an early start on picking cucumbers, everyone worked; me, my sister Stella, our cousins, Carlton and May Meryl. The older two children, Benny Jean and Margie Dean had already married and left home. Benny recently lost a long hard battle with cancer.
After the picking of the cucumbers and seeing who could out pick the others, we all sat on the back porch and watched Aunt Chloe slice the cucumbers after they had been washed. We laughed a lot, she was so much fun and never shooed us away. The making of pickles went on for days. She put them into a vat to soak for a day, then next day they were moved to another vat of some other mystery ingredient to make room for the new cucumbers. After making their way through two or three vat soakings then she canned them and there was nothing better for lunch than one of her big biscuits with fresh cooked bread and butter pickles. I'd love to revisit some of those good old days that seems a lifetime ago now these times reside in my heart's treasure of warm and wonderful memories.
While she and Uncle R.C. did the milking we kids ran and played under the giant shade trees. I remember that she always told everyone that went to use the out house not to tear down her spider web. She always said; "The spider won't hurt you if you leave it alone, someday I may need that web, so be careful not to tear it. down." This always seemed so strange to me, but we wasted no time in that place fearing the spider may show up. Then one day I learned the reason for protecting it.
We were all out under the trees running and playing, as barefoot as the day we were born. My sister hit a piece of broken glass and it just sliced the sole of her heel clean off. It was hanging by a bit of skin and she was bleeding badly. Aunt Chloe ran from the barn to see what the screaming was about. She swooped Stella up, sat her on the steps and ran for a pan and the kerosene. She cleaned and soaked her foot in the kerosene and while doing so she said to Carlton, "Run to the out house and get my spider web. When you get there be careful and take your time. Catch it by the edges on your arms and walk carefully back to me with it, don't let it get tangled." He did just as he was told. Aunt Chloe dried Stella's foot with a clean white cloth, then she took the web on her arms and wrapped it carefully around Stella's foot. By this method she reattached the flopping heel and the bleeding stopped at once. She then tore strips of clean white cotton, wrapped it snugly around the spider web, tied it neatly and put a white sock on her foot. There were no telephones and we were miles from a doctor. She literally saved my sister's life with her skills, the heel grew back perfectly and we never took her to the doctor, she just stayed off the foot until it was well. I had never been so amazed in my life at the intelligence of this sweet lady who has had white hair as long as I can remember.
There was this one time in early spring when it had rained for days. Daddy decided to go visit Uncle R.C. & Aunt Chloe. Now you could get there a lot quicker by taking a short cut through one of the pastures, but you had to drive through a small brook. It was always shallow in this one spot. Mama told my daddy as he headed the old "Model A" through the pasture; "D. C. you can't go this way, after all this rain you'll have to go the long way." By now we were at the brook and she was so right, it was swollen out of it's banks at the low point. Daddy said, "I can jump it, I just need to find a narrow place." She was screaming, "D.C. don't you dare!" He was already driving a big circle away from the branch because he had spotted the perfect place and needed to pick up speed for the jump. Evel Knievel had nothing on my dad, except maybe a more successful record. It was pedal to the metal and mama was screaming and we kids were excited, we had no doubt he could make us fly, and we did for only a few short seconds. The car landed; the front bumper resting on the ground across the stream. The back bumper firmly planted on the ground behind us, a rushing current flowing beneath us. Mama was in the throws of a real conniption, fire spitting fit. Daddy said; "Stay where you are, I'll get R.C." I know he was glad to get out of hearing range of mama, he crawled over the front of the car and soon returned with Uncle R.C. They rescued us from the car and took us to the house. I still laugh and cry to this day remembering that wonderful moment in time when we were the flying McDaniels. Uncle R.C. and daddy went back and we will never know what magic trick they used, but they got the car out and over the water and after an unusually exciting visit, despite mama's anger, we were able to drive home, (the long way, by road).
Looking back over my life; it was good. We were not rich, but I didn't even know that, because we were so rich with an abundance of wonderful aunts, uncles and cousins. We never went hungry and my daddy worked so hard to take care of us, and he was a great entertainer. Oh the stories that were told around the tables of his brothers and sisters. That family who loved and visited each other and shared kids during harvest season, that was the greatest of all riches. I am so thankful for all these warm and wonderful memories.
This morning the sky is azure and the wind is blowing as if it holds the kiss of spring, warm and invigorating. There was a day just like this a year ago. It was the day a sweet spirit flew home to be with Jesus.
My mother’s baby sister, Kathrine “Kathy” Husser died February 26, 1997. She finally lost her battle with cancer, it was one she’d fought most of her life.
I still grieve for her, there are times I wish I could talk to her now, so many things left unsaid. One thing is for sure, some day I’ll see her again in heaven.
Her battle with cancer began when she was still a blushing bride. Her body bore the scars of so many surgeries. No one knew of the torment she endured. She always had a smile for every visitor, right up to the very end.
When word got out that she would not make it through the day, a crowd began to gather. The house was filled with friends and loved ones as she slowly slipped out into eternity. I listened with the stethoscope for a heart beat, her breathing was so irregular and her breaths so far between. I heard the sound of silence, she was gone, gone home to Jesus. No more suffering, no more pain for her.
I walked out beneath the pear tree, now in full bloom and let the tears come freely as I said my last good-bye. It was such a beautiful day, a perfect day for a child of God to wing her way homeward.
Today I watch the azure sky,
as snow white clouds go racing by.
The wind sighs through winter’s trees,
with the golden warmth of a summer breeze.
This feels so much like the year-a-go day,
when her beautiful soul just flew away.
Cancer had assaulted her and many scars she bore,
but she seldom let it show through the smile she wore.
The Lord said it’s time Kathy come on home,
no more the tortured paths of earth must you roam.
So many fights with cancer with heartache and pain,
now she never has to shed another tear again.
She was always there to listen to others every day,
so many of us miss her now that she is away.
Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s gone,
and wish she were here for selfish reasons of my own.
But I would not call her back again,
from heaven’s golden streets to live a life of pain.
Forever and always she will live in my heart and in my mind,
a sweet sweet spirit loving and kind.
By: Lillian Carol Russell
Memorial to my husband's brother Norman R. Russell Jr.
After we got on the Internet, my husband began to search for information, seeking to find out more about the circumstances of the discovery of his brother’s downed plane. His brother, Norman R. Russell Jr. was killed in a military plane crash on Kronborg Glacier, January 12, 1962. He was an Aviation Electronics Technician 3rd Class in the Navy.
It was a little over four years before the plane was located and his death confirmed. Being able to bury Norman in the family cemetery brought a kind of closure to the four years of grief. Still the family wondered about the place where he had died and the circumstances of the event.
Our first contact was with Dr. Peter knight of the Danish Polar Center. He posted the request for information on the Glaciological Society’s bulletin board, to be seen by about 500 members worldwide.
Dr Roger J. Braithwaite saw the message and advised we contact Dr. Joergen Taagholt at the Danish Polar Commission in Copenhagen. Then Dr. Taagholt sent word that he was researching it for us. Next Dr. Kent Brooks in Copenhagen contacted us to say that he was one of the four-man team who had discovered the crash site. He offered his assistance and sent a detailed description of his memories of the experience. He also sent the names of two of the other members of the research party who were still in Oxford.
We contacted Brian Atkins, but have not heard from him. We contacted Dr. David Bell and his response was immediate. He mailed us a copy of the news clippings of the crash photo, a localized map of the area, a color photo of the general area. He also sent copies of letters he had received from the other victim’s family members, thanking the team for their part in solving the four-year-old mystery.
We have not been able to locate David Parrish’s e-mail address. We are told that he is the one who actually first spotted the plane.
We have been assured that no one suffered a lingering death. It was so cold there, they would have been almost instantly frozen had they survived the crash. It was good to communicate with those who were there. To actually look at the photo of the frozen tundra brought a final closure, it was lonely yet beautiful, it made us sad, yet it fulfilled a need.
Your mother said you were so cute as a little child,
curls so blonde and eyes so blue with laughter in your smile.
You grew up too fast like any normal boy,
you always were all your life a source of pride and joy.
From high school to collage to Navy you went,
thus all the days of your life were spent.
You’d met Bonnie and planned soon to marry,
we all assumed your name she would carry.
Sometimes the book of life is short,
and loved ones are left with a broken heart.
Your pages were few we all soon learned,
as the final chapter came and the pages all were turned.
Death reached out its icy hand and snatched you from the sky,
your plane went down and all twelve on board would die.
Those who knew and loved you said you had the sweetest smile,
perhaps it was because you would see God in just a while.
We’ve finally talked to those who found your remains in that cold and lonely place,
where God reached out to call you home to look upon His face.
By: Lillian Carol Russell
(Remembering my mother-in-law, she was my mentor, a dear friend and my best constructive critic. I miss her dearly!)
It was a gray rainy day as we drove away from home on Jan. 9, 2000. We stopped by to place fresh flowers on the eight graves in the family cemetery. There had been only seven graves when we drove in from Texas to spend New Years Day with our mothers, all four of my husband’s grandparents, his dad and brother and my dad, each having washed our world in tears with their passing.
Today a fresh mound of red clay soil formed a new gravesite for his mother; Sibyl Andrus Russell age 82. Our tears mingled with the steady falling rain as we held each other and bid her one last farewell before heading back to Texas. Of course, we knew she was not there in that cold steel coffin beneath the ground. Only the vessel in which her soul had dwelled remained therein, she had flown away home to be with Jesus.
She went to bed the night before her death, talking and smiling. We had all watched the new millennium come in all over the world. One of the last things she said was how much she had enjoyed all the beautiful celebrations and that she sure never thought she would live to see the year 2000. Sometime during the night, doctors said she had apparently had a heart attack, which was followed by a stroke. We called 911 as soon as we found her not able to speak coherently early the next morning.
She suffered a massive heart attack during transit in the ambulance and another after arriving at the hospital. Doctors called us all to her bedside because her condition was so critical. Her daughter Gayle held her mother’s left hand and her son, my husband, Butch, held the other, myself, her brother Byron Andrus and his wife Helen and Gayle’s husband Joseph Rispone completed the circle. As if she had waited for us all to gather round her bed, she left quietly as we prayed. Carried away by angels to her mansion in glory. We were not even aware it had happened. A member of the North Oaks medical staff informed us that she left as we prayed. I liked the way he said it. He did not say she died or she passed away, he said she left while the family was in prayer. Free of the mortal cage that had bound her beautiful soul for 82 years, she had flown away home. She had reached the destination for which she had been aiming.
We thank God for the years he allowed her to be a part of our lives. She was my mentor, having encouraged me in oh so many ways. I never heard her raise her voice in anger and never ever did any foul word cross her lips. She never spoke ill of any person and no one could ever accuse her of being a gossip. She was a meek and mild lady and her only goal in life was to serve her Lord and master, Jesus Christ. She had a burden for lost souls, it was her only real worry in life. I can only ask that God will give me her burden, that each of those she prayed for will be impressed upon my heart and that I might carry her torch in this matter.
Transferred to Glory
August 18, 2009
Another of my many First cousins has gone home to be with loved ones gone before. He was always called Jr., the son of my daddy's brother, Uncle Johnnie and Aunt Dorothy. We often visited them when I was a child. He was about 12 years younger than me. He was a vegetarian as a child; hated meat and always ate banana sandwiches when the rest of us were having good old baloney sandwiches. I'm told that he outgrew that and became a meat eater like the rest of us.
As far back as I can remember, he was a gentle soul with a ready smile for everyone. As the years went so rapidly flying by, I saw less and less of him, but when I did, he always had a warm hug and a great big smile, just like he always had for everyone.
His life had sorrows untold; he lost his first wife "Jackie" to heart problems at a young age, leaving him with a little boy to raise. The Lord sent him a wonderful wife; Kathy, that I never got to meet. Everyone who did said that they were so very happy together. He also had grand children, and step children to fill his days with love and laughter.
I have only fond memories of Jr. I have almost 50 first cousins on my daddy's side of the family and many second and third cousins and beyond, that I have never met. We were all so close as children because daddy's family of 12 siblings were close. If you had told me when I was young that we would all grow apart as each of us had our own families, I just would not have believed it. There were no computers or video games back then and TV was not much, only a few shows on Saturday. We watched Buffalo Bill, The Lone Ranger, Sky King, Roy Rogers & Dale Evans, Jungle Jim and who of our age could ever forget Howdy Doody Time and Clarabelle the clown.
Every week-end daddy went to visit one of his brothers or sisters. When we all gathered at grandma & grandpa McDaniel's house for the family get togethers, the games were on and oh how we played, running until we dropped in our tracks. Then stuffing ourselves on huge pans of chicken & dumplings, roast, rice and gravy, potato salad, banana pudding, cakes and pies of all kinds. I really loved grandma's lemon jelly cake and stood often at her table watching her create this wonderful masterpiece. Such fun and so many fond memories of dear cousins that I may never see again until we have that grand reunion in heaven.
Jr. was a member of Biloxi River Baptist Church. Knowing that he was a Christian brings great joy for I know that once more I will see that special twinkle in his eye and I know that right now he is having a wonderful time, having gone on early to that great reunion in heaven that awaits all believers in Jesus Christ.
I miss my parents, aunts, uncles and all the great cousins that brought so much joy into my life and I think of them and remember precious times more and more as the years go rolling by.
It seems that a lifetime is but a moment, as it says in James 4:14 ..."Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanishes away."
Jr. left a lifetime of sweet memories and so he will live on in our hearts, until we see him again when we see Jesus face to face.
Revelation 21:4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
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Music by Margi Harrell
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