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How would you react if a hundred years mysteriously passed you by?
In the novel’s first part Mattie Bachman is living on a farm along the Hassayampa River, Arizona Territory, during Reconstruction. The second part of the story will dazzle fans of magical realism when Mattie wakes up on the same farm but during the Vietnam War.
My father is his namesake. Dade was born 15 January 1863 and died 26 Sept 1924. He is buried in Pittsfield, Illinois and was Sheriff of Pike County. My granddad Stanly thought he would die in his 60's because his dad died at age 61. But Stan Allen lived into his 90s. Dade Allen had two wives. His first was Flora Rosella Williams, my great-grandmother. They married in Illinois 5 May.
The Williams Sisters Cameline, Flora, Lily, and Blanch. I believe the second lady from top is Flora Rosella Williams, my granddad Stanly's mother. They are wonderful sisters to behold with wonderful names. I imagine they were close but bickered a lot. Like sisters!
These are my granddad Stanly's grandparents, immigrants from Ireland and England, Francis and Sarah Burlend Allen. Parents of David Dade Allen and his siblings Charlotte Allen Thompson and Francis Edward Allen.
Mary Elizabeth Frye Shearer and her husband, a Civil War veteran. I transcribed my great-grandmother's diaries written during WWII.
Diaries of my great-grandmother Mary Elizabeth Shearer
For ten years, before and after WWII, my maternal great-grandmother kept a daily diary about her life on a farm in Forest Grove, Oregon. A widow and mother to eight children, Mary's days revolved around her family, farm, neighbors, and her church. It was a life intact and so remotely different from how people live today. Mary's simple words are inspiring. By reading them, she takes us back to her farm and to a life free from the struggles we suffer in the modern world.
God bless this little stubborn heart–
(because she won’t bless me)
And take her for a carriage ride,
to keep her company.
In silence angry Farmers go,
To where unearthly flowers grow.
And on their way to heaven climb,
By way of their own furrows find.
How do you know–what you might feel?
How can you say–so far away?
Seized up by past, old feelings don’t last.
Locked in their room (you’ll free them too soon),
and shovel away, what never could stay,
oh, what a play–these lines of dismay,
Future Feelings.
I have no future feelings,
At the moment I can say,
As for what the future brings me,
Might it be another day!
Fragments of feelings
I thought I once knew,
Emotions caught up with the times,
Periodically thinking of what I might do,
leaving old memories behind.
Will I continue this broken-up pace?
Will things become easy and smooth?
Will it all happen at this time, at this place
Must I continue to move?
Fragments of feelings
I know I once had,
Locked-up in a past far away.
I can feel it coming,
a time to be glad
And a beautiful lifetime to stay.
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