A Poem by Florence Leonette [Flagg] Cooke for the Ninth Annual Great Genealogy Poetry Challenge of Bill West (October 4, 2017)

Florence Leonette "Nettie" [Flagg] Cooke (1870 - 1904)

Next month is the "Ninth Annual Great Genealogy Poetry Challenge" conceived and hosted by Bill West of West in New England blog. Under the Challenge rules, a poem submitted for inclusion in the Challenge can "be a poem you or one of your ancestors have written." This post is my submission for the Ninth Annual Challenge and it publishes a poem written by my great grandmother, Florence Leonette Flagg (pictured above as a young adult). "Nettie," as she was always called, is the mother of my maternal grandmother, Ruth Eaton [Cooke] Carpenter.

Nettie had a short life that in many ways was tragic and I believe she turned to poetry to try to express her pain, her hope, and her discovery of respite and beauty when and where she could find it. She wrote numerous poems that are mostly sad, but they must have been cathartic for her given her experiences. I am very lucky and privileged to have several originals of her poetic writings and a few others that were transcribed by her eldest child (my grand aunt, Helen R. [Cooke] Roberts) from now lost originals. The poem in this post is one of the original poems in her handwriting that I now have in my collection.

To possibly understand where Nettie's poem originates, it is necessary to provide some brief context and background about Nettie.

Nettie was born in 1870 to George W. Flagg and his wife, Mary J. ("Jennie") Eaton.  When Nettie was just two and half years old, her mother died at age 26. And then Nettie's father died at age 35 of "phthisis" (an archaic name for tuberculosis) when Nettie was barely nine years old.

By the time of the 1880 federal census, ten-year-old Nettie Flagg was living as a "boarder" in the home of Susannah Stanley (age 69) and her daughter Frances Stanley (age 30) in Attleborough, Massachusetts. She apparently lived with the Stanleys until she married Walter W. Cooke in August 1891 in North Attleborough. She and Walter had known one another since they were children. They were both 21 years old when they married.

Nettie's original handwritten poem is shown below. Precisely when Nettie wrote the poem is unknown, but since she died in July 1904 at age 34, the poem is at least 113 years old. So far as is known, it was never published anywhere before appearing here and being submitted as part of Bill West's Ninth Annual Great Genealogy Poetry Challenge.  

When I Have Time

    By Florence Leonette "Nettie" Cooke 

 When I have time

So many things I'll do

To make life happier and more fair

For those whose lives are clouded with care

I'll help to lift them from their low despair

                                     When I have time

When I have time

Kind words and loving smiles

I'll give to those whose pathway runs thro' tears

Who see no joy in the coming years

In many ways their weary lives I'll cheer

                                        When I have time

When I have time

The one I love so well

Shall know no more these weary toilsome days

I'll lead her feet in pleasant paths always

And cheer her heart with words of sweetest praise

                                       When I have time

When you have time

The one you hold so dear

May be beyond the reach of thy sweet intent

May never know that you so kindly meant

To fill her weary life with such content

                                When you had time

Now is the time

Ah, friend No longer wait

To scatter loving smiles and words of cheer

To those around whose lives are now drear

They may not need you in the coming years

                                 Now is the time

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The photograph and handwritten original of the poem are from the personal collection of the author.

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Copyright 2017, John D. Tew

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"A Poem on Little Russell's Passing" (October 17, 2016)

Florence Leonette ("Nettie") Flagg 

Nettie Cooke [nee Flagg] -- b. May 13, 1870 - d. July 20, 1904

Next month is the "Eighth Annual Great Genealogy Poetry Challenge" conceived and hosted by Bill West of West in New England blog. Under the Challenge rules, a poem submitted for inclusion in the Challenge can "be a poem you or one of your ancestors have written." This post is my submission for the Eighth Annual Challenge and it publishes a poem written by my great grandmother, Florence Leonette Flagg (pictured above as a young teen and as an adult). "Nettie," as she was always called, is the mother of my maternal grandmother, Ruth Eaton [Cooke] Carpenter. I posted previously about Nettie where I included another one of her poems, which can be viewed here.

Nettie had a short life that in many ways was tragic and I believe she turned to poetry to try to express her pain, her hope, and her discovery of respite and beauty when and where she could find it. She wrote numerous poems that are mostly sad, but they must have been cathartic for her given her experiences. I am very lucky and privileged to have several originals of her poetic writings and a few others that were transcribed by her eldest child (my grand aunt, Helen R. [Cooke] Roberts) from now lost originals. The poem in this post was written about 1894 when Nettie was twenty-four years old and as the images of the poem below show, this is one of the original poems in her handwriting that I now have in my collection.

To understand where Nettie's poem originates, it is necessary to provide some brief context and background about Nettie.

Nettie was born in 1870 to George W. Flagg and his wife, Mary J. ("Jennie") Eaton.  When Nettie was just two and half years old, her mother died at age 26. And then Nettie's father died at age 35 of "phthisis" (an archaic name for tuberculosis) when Nettie was barely nine years old.

By the time of the 1880 federal census, Nettie Flagg was living as a "boarder" in the home of Susannah Stanley (age 69) and her daughter Frances Stanley (age 30) in Attleborough, Massachusetts. She apparently lived with the Stanleys until she married Walter W. Cooke in August 1891 in North Attleborough. She and Walter had known one another since they were children and they were both 21 years old when they married.

Leonette ("Nettie") Flagg and Walter W. Wilson

Soon after Nettie and Walter married they had their first child, my grandmother's oldest sister, Helen Raeder Cooke born February 21, 1892. Helen was followed by five additional children -- two boys and three girls. Russell was born in 1893. Lois Vinal Cooke was born in 1894. My grandmother, Ruth Eaton Cooke, was born in 1897. Dorothy was born in 1899 and Russell Church Cooke was born in 1902. 

By the time my grandmother was ten years old, her mother and father had lost three children. Russell died about a month shy of his first birthday. Dorothy, who was a special favorite of my grandmother's, died just a month after her sixth birthday of typhoid complicated by a severe ear infection. Russell Church Cooke died just over two months after his second birthday of meningitis. I never heard my grandmother ever mention the fact that she had two brothers and she never told me she had a younger sister named Dorothy. My mother did tell me well into my middle age that her mother always said she would never name a son of hers Russell because both her brothers were named Russell and they died very young. [When my grandmother did have a son, she named him David and I got my middle name after him.]   

My grandmother, Ruth Eaton Cooke (left) and her younger sister Dorothy Cooke (right)

The original handwritten poem below was written in 1894 just after the death of Nettie's first son, Russell Cooke. The poem is now 122 years old. It was preserved by my grand aunt, Helen [Cooke] Roberts, in the envelope shown here. It is inscribed by Helen to explain when the poem was written and why.

Here is Nettie's untitled poem that I have begun calling "A Poem on Little Russell's Passing." It is transcribed immediately after the images of the original handwritten poem. To my knowledge the poem has never been published before or shared outside the family . . . and few in the family have ever seen it before.

A Poem on Little Russell's Passing*

                           By Florence Leonette "Nettie" Cooke (1894)

                                               I sometimes grow weary of waiting

                                               And long for the time to come,

                                              When I shall see my baby,

                                              In that beautiful far off home.

                                              Sometimes when I feel discouraged

                                              And my life seems full of care,

                                              I wonder how long I shall have 

                                             to wait

                                             Before we meet over there.

                                             I wonder if he is happy, 

                                             My dear little baby boy.

                                             If he thinks of Father & Mother

                                             And wants us to share his joy.

                                             At the gate of the beautiful city

                                             In that bright and Heavenly home

                                             Will he be watching and waiting

                                             And longing for us to come?

                                             He was beautiful when he left us,

                                             But will he grow more fair?

                                             Will he grow in Heavenly beauty

                                             And will we know him there?

                                             I wonder sometimes why my baby

                                             Was taken away so soon

                                             Was it because I was straying away

                                             Into the darkness and gloom?

                                             Was the Shepherd trying to call

                                              me back

                                             And I heeded not his cry

                                             Until he took my little lamb

                                             To the home beyond the sky.

                                             Was it in love that He took him

                                              To draw me back to the fold

                                              Because I had grown so careless

                                              And my heart seemed bitter and 

                                              cold.

                                              Ah yes, the lesson was hard to learn

                                              And my heart seemed crushed

                                              with pain

                                              And the time seemed longer than

                                              I could wait

                                              Ere I should see him again.

                                              But one time, ere I closed my eyes

                                              in sleep

                                              I looked out into the night.

                                              And gazing up into the darkened sky

                                              I saw a misty light.

                                              And in the midst of that one bright

                                              cloud

                                              A little star twinkled and shone.

                                              And it seemed to me like a guiding

                                              light,

                                              To lead to that Heavenly home.

                                               And in fancy I saw that little

                                               star,

                                               Was held by my baby's hand

                                               To safely guide me through the darksome

                                               night

                                               To that home in the spirit land.

                                               And in it I read God's lesson to me

                                               That my work is not yet done

                                               So I'll gladly wait

                                               Till someday, sometime

                                               My God and my child will welcome me home.

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All photos are scanned from the originals, which are in the collection of the author.

*Nettie did not provide a title for her poem, so I have taken the liberty of providing one 122 years after she wrote these poignant words. I hope she would approve. 

There are actually two handwritten copies of Nettie's poem following little Russell's untimely death, but one is inexplicably missing the last lines of the next to last stanza as well as all of the final stanza. I have chosen to follow the verse structure and punctuation of the version with the missing lines, but I provide images of the complete poem. For this reason, the transcription does not follow exactly the structure of the complete poem depicted above. 

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Copyright 2016, John D. Tew

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Treasure Chest Thursday (January 2, 2014) -- The Russell Cooke and Mary Vinal (Otis) Cooke Family Circa 1852

The Russell and Mary Vinal (Otis) Cooke family circa 1851.

Edith McIntyre's handwritten inscription on the reverse side of the photograph identifying the people in the photo. 

Well, 2014 is off to a great start from a genealogy point of view -- as this post will demonstrate!

Over the holiday season of the last two weeks, I have been busy doing some cleaning and rearranging of my home office space -- which is the repository for all my genealogy materials (books, documents, artifacts, etc.).  While cleaning up I came across a box that my mother gave me within the last year or two.  It contains mostly some old photographs, letters and notes from my mother's mother. Among the loose materials in the box -- that I obviously had not paid enough attention to previously -- was the undated letter from my grandmother to her daughter (my mother) shown above.  The letter was not in an envelope and was merely folded in half and placed in the middle of a stack of photos and notes in the box. [While it is a two-sided letter, only the front page is of any relevance to this post.] 

When I came across the letter in yet another quick review of the contents of the box during my cleaning, this time a photograph popped out and I paused to look at it, to examine the handwriting on the back, and then finally I focused in on the content of my grandmother's letter to my mother. And that was when I experienced my latest "Eureka Moment!" 

The photograph within the folded letter from my grandmother is shown above. The photograph my grandmother sent to my mother is old, but it is definitely NOT an original. It predates 1951, when my mother and father married, because the inscription on the back uses my mother's maiden name. I suspect from my grandmother's letter that the photograph is a copy made from an original daguerreotype and probably dates from the early 1930s when my mother (the oldest of three children) was a young girl. The photograph must have been sent as a gift to my mother with a duplicate provided to my grandmother (as she notes parenthetically in her letter).

There are at least three reasons why this photograph is so thrilling and important to me and my family genealogy: (1) it represents the oldest visual evidence I have of any ancestor -- my great, great, great grandparents in my maternal line; (2) it provides photo images of two ancestors I had never seen pictures of before along with a childhood photo of my great great grandfather and his six siblings that I had also never seen before; and (3) it shows a picture of Mary Vinal Otis (the mother in the photograph holding the baby) who is the link to my second proven line of descent from Richard Warren of the Mayflower! 

The identities of the people in the photograph are handwritten on the back by Edith McIntyre, the daughter of Abby Ann Ruth Cooke (1842 - 1923, the girl bottom right in the photo with the pig tails) and her husband James Harvey McIntyre. According to my grandmother's letter, Edith gifted copies of the photograph to my grandmother and my mother.  I believe the original daguerreotype/photograph was taken in 1852 because the baby in the photo, Charles Willis Cooke, was born in 1851 and looks to be about a year old as he sits on his mother's lap. The people in the photograph, left to right, are:

            Russell Cooke (1810 - 1884) my great, great, great grandfather.

            Charles Willis Cooke (1851 -     ) in the arms of his mother.

            Mary Vinal Cooke, nee Otis (1806 - 1881) -- my great, great, great grandmother.

            William Russell Cooke (1836 - 1899)

            Albert Frances Cooke (1848 -    ) sitting to the left of his mother.

            Edward Otis Cooke (1839 -    ) standing behind his brother Albert.

            Abby Ann Ruth Cooke (1842 - 1923) in pig tails sitting to the left of Albert.

            Mary Thomas Cooke (1834 -    ) standing behind Abby.

            George Henry Cooke (1843 - 1872) my great great grandfather.

Mary Vinal Otis is the 5th great granddaughter of Richard Warren, who came over on the Mayflower, and his wife Elizabeth Walker.

                                   Richard Warren m. Elizabeth Walker

                                   Anna Warren m. Thomas Little

                                   Ephraim Little m. Mary Sturtevant

                                   Mercy Little m. Job Otis, Sr.

                                   Job Otis, Jr. m. Prince  __________

                                   David Otis, Sr. m. Mary Vinal

                                   David Otis, Jr. m. Ruthy Otis

                                   Mary Vinal Otis m. Russell Cooke

My descent from the Cooke family is as follows:

                                  Benjamin Cooke m. Abigail Church*

                                  Russell Cooke m. Mary Vinal Otis

                                  George Henry Cooke m. Susannah C. Appell

                                  Walter Wilson Cooke m. Florence Leonette Flagg

                                  Ruth Eaton Cooke m. Everett Shearman Carpenter

                                  Shirley Carpenter m. Arnold G. Tew, Jr. (my parents)

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Original letter and photograph in the collection of the author.

* Abigail Church was a descendant of Richard Warren through his daughter Elizabeth and her marriage to Richard Church.  Abigail was the 4th great granddaughter of Richard and Elizabeth (Walker) Warren.

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Copyright 2014, John D. Tew

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Matrilineal Monday (November 18, 2013) -- Poem by Nettie Flagg Cooke

Florence Leonette Cooke (nee Flagg) is my great grandmother (my mother's mother's mother). She was born in Southborough, Massachusetts on May 13, 1870 and she died at age 34 on July 20, 1904 in N. Attleboro, Massachusetts -- almost exactly three months after the death of her last child.  She was always known as "Nettie."

As I have written elsewhere her at The Prism, my grandmother was one of six children of Nettie Flagg Cooke and her husband, Walter Wilson Cooke (1869 - 1944).  Tragically, Nettie and Walter lost three of their six children: Russell Cooke (1893 - 1894); Dorothy B. Cooke (1899 - 1907); and Russell Church Cooke (1902 - 1904).  As might be expected, this deeply saddened Nettie and quite likely contributed to her untimely death at age 34.

Shown above is an undated poem Nettie wrote that exhibits her depression, pain, and yet hope for something better.  I suspect this was written not long after the death of her son Russell Church Cooke on April 23, 1904.  A transcription of the poem follows . . . 

                    Shut in by sickness

                    Saddened by disappointment

                    I lay and watched one day

                           The setting sun.

                     I'm one day nearer home I murmured

                           And I'm glad, so glad

                               The day is done.

                      I closed my eyes and let

                      The mystic spell of twilight

                           Soothe me to rest

                      Ere the last crimson ray had gone

                           When suddenly the room

                      Was filled with brightness

                           For the lights were on

                       And so in this way, perhaps

                            Death may come to me

                        When life's little day is done

                    

                         We close our eyes, but for a moment

                         To open them in Heaven's brightness

                                 Where God's lights are always on.

                   Nettie Flagg Cooke

Nettie Flagg Cooke

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Scan of original poem in the collection of the author.

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Copyright 2013, John D. Tew

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Matrilineal Monday -- My Sister's Maternal Line

My sister is just over 14 months younger than I am and this Thursday, June 20th, she will complete another trip around the sun.  In celebration of her birth and the gift of life she received from a chain of mothers, I am posting here today photographs of Susan's matrilineal line going back three generations.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUSAN!!

Susan Elizabeth Tew

Shirley Carpenter Tew (Susan's mother)

Ruth Eaton Cooke Carpenter
(Susan's mother's mother)

Florence Leonette Flagg Cooke
 (Susan's mother's mother's mother)

Susan's matrilineal line goes back much further of course, but as yet without any additional photographs or other images of the women. Susan's earlier maternal line is believed to be as follows. . . 

Florence Leonette ("Nettie") Flagg's mother was Mary J. "Jennie" Eaton. 

Jennie Eaton's mother was Charity Jackson.

Charity Jackson's mother was Mary Stocker.

Mary Stocker's mother was Sarah Burrill.

Sarah Burrill's mother was Mary Mansfield.

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Photographs from the personal collection of the author.

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Copyright 2013, John D. Tew

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Friday Fotos (June 14, 2013) -- Walter W. Cooke

Walter W. Cooke (date and age unknown)

Walter Wilson Cooke circa 1930

Walter Wilson Cooke is my maternal great grandfather.  He was born to George Henry Cooke and his wife, Susannah Catherine (Appell) Cooke, on October 15, 1869 at 11 Bennett Street in Boston, Massachusetts.  He married Florence Leonette Flagg on August 2, 1891 in N. Attleboro, Massachusetts.  He was a jeweler by trade.  He and "Nettie" had six children -- four girls and two boys, but only three girls survived beyond early childhood.  One of the surviving children was my maternal grandmother, Ruth Eaton (Cooke) Carpenter.

When Nettie died in 1904, Walter married a second time.  Walter and his second wife, Flora Sayle, had one child together, Constance Cooke, born in 1926.  Walter died in N. Attleboro, Massachusetts on May 31, 1944 at age 74.

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Photographs from the personal collection of the author.

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Copyright 2013, John D. Tew

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You Never Forget Your First Time!

The romantic would surely envision and even suggest that the ideal first time should involve a yearning to be free, pristine natural surroundings by blue waters, a little adventure and exploration, and perhaps even some danger and uncertainty -- and these were all involved in my first time.  I will never forget my first time, as I shall reveal below with some detail  . . .

When I was 13 -- about the time my interest in girls really began to develop -- I spent much of my time wondering about life and the world of adults.  It was about this time that I also began listening to and enjoying the subtleties of adult conversation and the topics they enjoyed discussing and laughing about while the younger children in the family were occupied in games and childhood activities out of sight.  Piecing together what appeared to be coded clues from the adults led me to want to discover and delve into the activities that so clearly gave the adults such pleasure and fun that they enjoyed talking and laughing about them whenever they got together during holidays and occasions like weddings.

After my first time, the thrill was so intense, so entirely satisfying following the pursuit, that I felt I had fully matured and arrived.  I simply could not contain myself and, somewhat unusually, I had to immediately share the news and the story with my entire family!  Here is how it happened . . . 

I had been in pursuit of the females for a few years, but there had been five to try to conquer and I met resistance at almost every turn.  I was hitting a brick wall with every attempt to solve the mystery of the young women.  I was ready to give up and retreat back into defeat, but the goal and the anticipation of success drove me on.  I felt in my bones that the answer lay with the Cook and that I had to chase the quarry through her connection with the Church; the prospect of connecting with a Carpenter was simply wrong and clearly was not going to happen.  I decided the consummation of this ambition and the fulfillment it would bring were too important to abandon. It was necessary for me and for my future family to put this consuming desire behind me -- and I thought for some reason that my maternal grandmother really wanted to see me victorious even if she was no longer around to know about the extent of my efforts or the final realization of the dream that was beginning to obsess me.  With the thought of my grandmother firmly in mind, I decided it would be the Cook or nothing.

Within a few short months of my determined decision to pursue the Cook and abandon the Carpenter it finally happened. Eureka!  I had found the secret, conquered the female mystery and emerged triumphant.  I had to admit that it felt like nothing else I had experienced up to that time. It was transformative.  It was my first time and I knew I would never forget it.  

The emotion and the feeling of victory with Cook lasted for quite a while, but I admit that eventually it started to fade and although Cook was the one, The First, it really was not enough.  I had to reclaim that intense feeling and so after a few weeks I set my sights back on the Carpenter with renewed confidence and self assurance.  It was not the same as the first time and I suppose it never can be, but the Carpenter chase did have its own rewards and I have pursued many of them since.  I must also admit, that I did go back to a Cook again and had another intense eureka moment -- though via a different route. 

But . . . as all of you no doubt know, there is simply NOTHING like the first time that you are able to melt the frozen resistance to your concentrated efforts and appeals, that you are able to assail the brick wall and gain entrance to the inner secrets on the other side.  The feeling is so intense, so gratifying that you have to have it again and so you pursue it as often as you can knowing there will be more failures and obstacles than breakthroughs, but the rewards of success are just too great, so you are driven onward without end.  It is the same whether you are a man or a woman!

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My grandmother was the one who said during an overheard gathering of adults during some long ago holiday event, that we were descended from adventurous stock that yearned for more freedom and that uncertainty and danger on a long ocean crossing preceded the exploration of a new world abundant with natural resources.  It was she who mentioned the name Warren, but she never said whether the connection was through the Carpenter line or the Cook(e) line.  She was a Cooke and her husband, my grandfather, was a Carpenter.  

Living in New England it was not long before we visited Plymouth Plantation and learned about the people who came to America on board the Mayflower.  There were no passengers named Carpenter on the Mayflower -- and definitely no Tews since they did not arrive until 1640 -- but there were father and son passengers named Cooke (Francis and John) and other passengers named Eaton (Francis Eaton, his wife, Sarah, and their son Samuel).  My maternal grandmother's maiden name was Ruth Eaton Cooke.  

Some years ago I began my pursuit to prove Mayflower descent, which no one in my family had ever done before.  Fairly quickly I abandoned any thought that the descent was through the Carpenter family of my grandfather and began looking into the Cooke and Eaton possibilities. So far those too obvious lines of potential connection have proved to be dead ends -- and it was, after all, the name Warren that my grandmother had specifically cited.  

Richard Warren was not a Pilgrim.  He was one of the "Planters" or "Strangers" recruited to the adventure and he came over on the Mayflower alone.  His wife Elizabeth and their five daughters came a couple of years later and then two sons were born in the new world taking shape as Plymouth Colony.  

Richard and Elizabeth Warren had the good fortune to have all their children survive to adulthood and marry, AND all their children had children.  There are many lines of descent leading back to Richard Warren and mine goes through the Cooke family for five generations back to the time Benjamin Cooke married Abigail Church.  Abigail was the daughter of Ebenezer Church whose great great grandfather married Elizabeth Warren, the fourth daughter of Richard and Elizabeth Warren. 

The direct connection to Richard Warren through his daughter Elizabeth was the first genealogical brick wall I broke through.  It was the connection I was able to discover and document sufficiently to be accepted for membership in the General Society of Mayflower Descendants -- and I still remember the eureka feeling when I made the necessary connections and they held up to repeated examination.  It was almost electric and it was the first time I had ever had such an intense rush of discovery!  It was not long before I had another eureka moment when I realized there was a second connection to Richard and Elizabeth Warren that went through Benjamin Cooke's son Russell Cook.  Russell married Mary Vinal Otis.  The Otis lineage led back to Mercy Little's marriage to Job Otis and it was Mercy's grandfather Thomas Little who married Anna Warren, Richard and Elizabeth Warren's second daughter.

Here are the details of my first time -- the discovery and documentation of my Mayflower descent.  I will NEVER forget how it felt when it happened!

         

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What follows is my double descent from my 10X great grandparents Richard Warren (Mayflower passenger) and his wife Elizabeth Walker.  Richard and Elizabeth had seven children, all of whom lived to adulthood, married and had children.  Their children were: Mary (born circa 1610); Anna (born about 1611/2); Sarah (born about 1613); Elizabeth (born about 1615); Abigail (born about 1619); Nathaniel (born at Plymouth Colony about 1624); and Joseph (also born at Plymouth Colony by 1627).  I am descended from two sisters --  Elizabeth Warren Church and Anna Warren Little. 

Richard Warren m. Elizabeth Walker

Elizabeth Warren m. Richard Church                         Anna Warren m. Thomas Little

Joseph Church m. Mary Tucker                                     Ephraim Little m. Mary Sturtevant

Joseph Church m. Grace Shaw                                     Mercy Little m. Job Otis, Sr.

Caleb Church m. Deborah Woodworth                          Job Otis, Jr. m. Thankful Otis 

                                                                                        (1st cousins)

Ebenezer Church m. Hannah Wood                               David Otis, Sr. m. Mary Vinal

Abigail Church m. Benjamin Cook                                 David Otis, Jr. m. Ruthy Otis

                                                                                         (1st cousins)                                   

Russell Cook m. Mary Vinal Otis                                   Mary Vinal Otis m. Russell Cook

George H. Cooke m. Susannah C. Appell                      George H. Cooke m. Susannah C. Appell

Walter W. Cooke m. Florence L. Flagg                           Walter W. Cooke m. Florence L. Flagg

Ruth E. Cooke m. Everett S. Carpenter                            Ruth E. Cooke m. Everett S. Carpenter

(my maternal grandparents)                                             (my maternal grandparents)

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The photograph of Mayflowers (Epigaea repens) or Trailing Arbutus, is by reverend barry.  It was obtained on flickr from Yahoo! under the permission and license granted there by the copyright holder. The owner's permission and license allows sharing and remixing so long as the original work is given attribution  -- such as this.  See, http://www.flickr.com/photos/mybeautifularpeggio/3597095049 . 

Epigaea repens grew abundantly in the area of what is now Plymouth, Massachusetts when the Pilgrims arrived in 1620.  There is a tradition that the Mayflower passengers gave the flowering plant the name "Mayflower" and for this reason it was chosen as the state flower of Massachusetts.  [It is also the provincial flower of Nova Scotia.]

The photograph of the man with the scythe at Plymouth Plantation is taken from the website of the General Society of Mayflower Descendants, of which I am a member.  Its use is believed to be allowed under fair use. 

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Copyright 2013, John D. Tew

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