Fabian and Mary Jane Nance's FamilyFabian and Mary Jane Nance's Family
(Taken Late 1901 or early 1902)
Left to right: Top: Edward F., Willam C., George H.,
Bottom: Warder P. Mary Jane (Broad), Robert D., Clarence A., Fabian Alvis.
The dog's name is "Brownie".
These are the people I came from. Edward, Robert, Mary Jane and Fabian all died before I was born so I know nothing first hand of them. We owe so much to the people who came before us, yet seldom do we even know their names much less a tale about them. As children we don't care much about the past, yet as we grow the past becomes all the more important. And when we reach the end of our time, the past is all we have left. These pictures with and without comments are but a reminder to me of how precious life is and to be thankful for all those who came before me for making the world liveable enough for me and my family to find life and love.
Links
Mary Jane Broad and Fabian Nance's Marriage Certificate
Valdamir B. Nance (The child uncle)
George H. Nance Jr. from WW II
Arvin California, 50th Anniversary
I turned the Earth
for You
January in the Valley cold enough this year to freeze the life
out of the oranges
And lengthen the lines of Needs before the walls surrounding the
Haves.
Two weeks straight the fog has hung low hiding the sun until
today when
I turned the earth for you, Grandpa.
You told me, "A good farmer always turns the earth under,
boy. The dying weeds make
The earth rich and the crops thick." I never saw your farm,
Grandpa.
Long before I was born you and Nannie left Marion, Illinois,
Brought Jane and Roy to turn the wooden trays as the grapes dried
to raisins
On Uncle Ward's farm in Arvin, California. A quiet place to
forget the fires of hell
Had ever burned before his eyes or the rows of crosses weren't a
dream.
You were in your 80's when you stood above me and leaned on your
cane
As my hands quickly tired of pulling the weeds around the rose
bushes
In front of your apartment which you had planned to share with
Nannie
Only the pain shot up her arm and silenced her heart too soon. To
keep her alive,
You took the few pictures you had and the memories of a lifetime
and placed them
Into the book which bared her name. Soon there were other names
and then
There were other memories, but try as you might, you couldn't
find them
Among the myriad memories haunting your mind. So you opened other
books,
Wrote letters, made phone calls and the names grew after day
after day.
Six months before you died, you handed Roy, Jane, and my father
The new books neatly typed, the pictures marked with dates and
Whos, wheres and whys, and I, being a young man with no children,
Wondered how you found the time to create those pages when your
eyes burned
And your fingers throbbed and you'd forget to eat as your clothes
loosened
Around your slumped shoulders as you recorded the names for my
sons to come.
Grandpa, my sons are as I was, longing for the easy life but
knowing sooner
Or later the work must begin. Now it is my chance, Grandpa, to
turn the earth
And lengthen the list of names you began. It's the only gift I
have to thank you with.
It's the only almost everlasting gift any of us can ever really
give.
And even this is not enough. But what is?