|About Descendents of William Mead of Cecil County, Maryland, A Quaker
I should have asked them before they died.
There was a time when my Pappaw, ALBERT RICHARD MEADE (1910-1981) could recite
his male ancestory all the way back to England. We children couldn't
have cared less about who these people were. How I wish I had listened!
I now sit fascinated; glued to my screen and my endless handwritten notes...
excited about the slightest piece of information or the mere sighting
of a name! And if I actually find a photo? Absolute Bliss!!
The information contained in this page is the product of years of off and on
work and lots of all-nighters in front of the computer.
Consider this project a constant work in progress.
Please remember that not all of this information is proven. Use this page as
helper for your own research. Don't be afraid to question my
information! I promise I won't be offended! I believe that's how we pinpoint
names and dates.
A Million 'Thank You's to:
Ron Anderson, My sweet, patient Husband
The Late Earl Akers and his Wonderful Family for keeping up his web site!
Dale & Christine Boyd
Susan Smallwood Herron, my Sweet Cousin from Alabama!
Angie Meade Hughes
Linda Lou Blair Irick "Lindy Lou"
The Very Generous Tim Jackson in England
the Mead "Guru" Mena Mead
the always knowing Vance Mead
the late Albert Richard "Alb" Meade, Pappaw
the late Nellie Compton Meade, Mammaw
Bobby Ray Meade
Delsie Mildred Meade Adkins, who shares my love of this family tree. If you need to know who they
are, where they lived, how they are related, Mildred knows.
Teresa & the late Avery Meade
Bill & Stephanie Meade
Louise Johnson Mullins
Minerva Calhoun Osborne
Billie Burgess Patrick, who I believe has a connection to everyone!!
Cynthia Ann Blair Payne, "Cynthie Ann"
Lizzie Compton Smallwood
Betty Sue Meade Stacy, my Mom, who has gone over & over names & memories for
The Late Jimmy Stacy, my Dad
Want to connect with a 'cousin' or compare notes? Please e-mail me!
A BRIDGE ACROSS TIME
She calls to me from long ago;
through sunlit skies; through drifts of snow.
In clouds that dance upon the sea, I call to her, and she to me.
So real was she. She laughed; she cried.
She loved; she lost. She lived; she died.
She hoped and dreamed; so real was she.
She lived a life that I may be.
The blood through which my veins does flow
is the same as her's from long ago.
So it will be that when I'm gone in an unborn child it will flow on.
I'll live my life and when It's done
I'll live again in those to come.
For I'm a bridge from she to me; from those that were, to those to be.
Written by Darlene Caryl-Stevens, Ddstevens@aol.com
of Spokane, WA in August, 1998 about her gggrandmother, Ellen Ring
THE LAST LEAF
I saw him once before,
As he passed by the door,
The pavement stones resound,
As he totters o'er the ground
With his cane.
They say that in his prime,
Ere the pruning-knife of Time
Cut him down,
Not a better man was found
By the Crier on his round
Through the town.
But now he walks the streets,
And looks at all he meets
Sad and wan,
And he shakes his feeble head,
That it seems as if he said,
"They are gone."
The mossy marbles rest
On the lips that he has prest
In their bloom,
And the names he loved to hear
Have been carved for many a year
On the tomb.
My grandmamma has said
Poor old lady, she is dead
That he had a Roman nose,
And his cheek was like a rose
In the snow;
But now his nose is thin,
And it rests upon his chin
Like a staff,
And a crook is in his back,
And a melancholy crack
In his laugh.
I know it is a sin
For me to sit and grin
At him here;
But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,
Are so queer!
And if I should live to be
The last leaf upon the tree
In the spring,
Let them smile, as I do now,
At the old forsaken bough
Where I cling.
~Oliver Wendell Holmes