Uncle Guy

This dashing young man is my Great-Great Uncle Guy. You have seen
his great photo over on my blog’s sidebar. He was born on this day,
April 9, 1885, in Howard Co., Indiana, to Palestine and Mary. Guy's
middle initial was "L" and it is assumed that it stood for Lorenzo, after
his paternal grandfather Joseph Lorenzo Dow. All the family members
who knew him have passed away, but I do know several things about
him from oral family history and from some personal research. He
attended The Indiana State Normal School for only one year in 1910,
because he contracted tuberculosis. There is a family story that tells
of Guy jumping into a frozen pond to save a young boy from drowning,
and contracting TB soon afterward. The doctors advised the family to
move him west for the benefits of a dry climate. So, in 1911, Palestine,
Mary, and three of their children, moved from Indiana to
Albuquerque, New Mexico. Guy was a talented photographer, as you
can see by this wonderful self portrait, taken in front of a mirror. The
dry western climate did not improve his health, and when his condition
was determined to be fatal, the family returned with him to Howard Co.,
Indiana, where he died at the age of 27 on March 16, 1913. His
obituary in the Kokomo Tribune says that he had a very large circle of
friends. It is quite sad that so many died as a result of various illnesses
that can easily be prevented today. I often think of Mary, his mother,
and have compassion for her, losing her handsome young son so early
in life.


Dirge Without Music
--- Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the
hard ground.
So, it is and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind.
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
with lilies and with laurel they go, but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, ---but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter,
the love,---
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses elegant and
curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not
approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in
the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.