I’m supposed to be doing the taxes

The so called work surface on which the papers are kept is indeed loaded with papers, bills, records, and only my worn out angels know what else.  I’m supposed to be firing up the Turbo Tax and ………… ugh, ugh, ugh.  Every year I say I’m marching into H & R Block’s doorway and dumping said papers on someone else’s work surface, but I’m a little on the cheap side.  So I suffer the stomach knots and procrastinate.  This year, we know we’re paying in making the knots bigger.

The room harboring what I need has been blocked off from the heat all winter with the exception of when our Indiana friend dropped in on his way to and from North Carolina.  The door is open and the light is turned on.  It’s amazing what I can call progress.

A “funner” part of my day has been watching the Gaither DVD filmed in Israel a few years ago.  It’s on its second run after which I plan on sliding in the one done in Toronto followed by maybe Mark Lowry in Hollywood.  If there’s time, Lord of the Rings hasn’t been warmed up for a few months and may be due.

Always a multi-tasker, I’ve had the laptop where else but on my lap, looking up ancestors, where they lived, what was going on when they lived which brings me to yet another discovery.

My 7th great-grandparents, Bartholomew Stovall and Ann Burton, were married August 8, 1693 in St. John Church, Henrico County, Virginia.  That was 315 years and 7 months ago.  Ann bore 7 children according to my limited research, was widowed at 51 and lived on to witness the birth of the United States of America and finally giving up her spirit at the gentle age of 111 in 1786.  Maybe I’ll find her marker in the kirk yard when I go to Virginia with my sister this summer or fall.

It was in that church where she had been a bride at the age of 17 that almost 82 years later on March 23rd, Patrick Henry cried “Give me liberty, or give me death.”

Well, I’m impressed!

I would like to know, however, having raised 7 children while carving out a legacy in a land still new and unexplored, having outlived 3 of her 7 children by then and living her entire life of 99 years and 7 months as a subject of the British crown—just a little ripe of time to get all excited about politics and war, did she see this revolution as more ruinous than worthy?  It’s an historical fact that the majority of the population was not in favor of breaking away from England.

Was she acquainted with any of these young upstart rebels?  Did she wag a knarled finger in their direction saying to leave well enough alone? Or had she herself been wishing and waiting for independence right along side those willing to die for freedom?

Who’s side was she on?

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4 thoughts on “I’m supposed to be doing the taxes

  1. If Granny was anything like you, she was a rebel, full of fight. A flintlock rifle in one hand and a corncob pipe in the other. And also telling everyone that she wasn’t firing up the Turbo Tax for King George ever again. No sir. Dad gummit!

    Maybe she had her own slogans, something like “If we don’t all hang together, there goes the neighborhood.”

    • Too bad I know nothing of this woman, Ann Burton except that she descended from English knights and a sheriff in 1100-something with only one name. However, now that you mention the pipe, my great great grandmother Suzanne Ollinger Fair, 1838-1909, did indeed smoke a corncob pipe. That was the only thing my dad knew about her. It was her granddaughter, my grandmother, Susan Ethel Parrish Murphy, that you wouldn’t want to cross anywhere but on the other side of an intersection. Her brothers made her tough. It was that side of the family that taught me how to stand my verbal ground.

  2. Believe it or not, my grandparents (my mom’s parents), came out of your neck of the woods. Just north of you, near Johnson City. Somehow, they traveled to Northern Illinois and farmed. Grandpa was a Baptist and grandma got saved on her deathbed.

    Both were good, hardworking people with a built-in Tennessee stubborn streak running down their backs. Maybe some of that was passed on to me.

    • Filed under Small World, my gg-grandfather was a Baptist minister who moved from KY to west central Illinois, look up Berwick, around 1830-something. We like to believe certain traits like red hair = hot temper are in the DNA filed under I Can’t Help Myself, when in fact human nature is what it is. Read Isaiah chapter 1. About the only thing that changes is our clothes. But it’s fun to play Pigeon Hole. Isn’t that a board game?

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