A little about my mothers side of the family

Edith asked about my father side of the family today, so I thought one of the interesting parts of my mothers side of the family was in order.

The McCord branch of the family had two sons that fought in the Civil War. One joined the Confederate army and was never heard from again, the other the Iowa Volunteers, part of the Union Army.

Here are one of his letters home, I have others, and his discharge papers.

The handwriting, and printed words, used at the time are hard to decipher, I did my best and included [illegible] where I could not figure out what word was written. Also one footnote about the discharge papers, they where also altered sometime in the past.

The Letter on the bottom.







My transcription.

Family Feb 7 1862

You see that I wrote some time ago but failed to send it.

I left the Island day before yesterday lodged that night under niggers roof.
Yesterday I came to Uncle Ami Smiths was taken with a pain in my knee. the severest pain I ever had. Old Mother Smith
deeloved me like a mother indeed, to day I am about. I received a letter from Lawton last week he was in the fight at Springfield
Charely Dixon was wounded in the back by a shell( not very bad) another man wounded [illegible] arm.the third was killed, a man by the name of Smith, that was all that was in [?]avin company.
I have had no letter from Oscar for 3 weeks. he is all right I suppose
I heard from them since I come here George Gibbs and Clark Smith have lots have written home Robi [illegible] was killed by a shell it fell at his feet exploded. Tore off his leg and arm. C Smith, G gibbs and W Bodwell buried him C Smith says he was scared time of battle he says he cannot
describe the firing of guns better than the throwing of salt in the fire.
So quick and fast.
We are talking now of having game and children go with me to Ottuawa[?] and meet you there about the first of Aprilor if you want to come sooner you could come to Ottuawa and stop with Dixon.
I am told he is living there I have recieved no money from the boys since you left but they promise to.
Send me some even perhaps.
They have sent you some .
I got that note from Dave Seagrams sent you some and s/out the next for over shorts and to pay for washing, making and mending
Be sure and bring one of the girls with you

Yours O Mcord

The discharge papers on the top.

My transcription

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TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

Know ye, that William O McCord private of captain A R Andysons company of 16 A/ 4th regiment of Iowa Infantry volunteers who was enrolled on the [illegible] one thousand eight hundred and fifty two, to serve three years or during the war is hereby discharged from the service of the United States
this 31st day of December 1863 at Meadville Alabama by reason of re enlistment Veteran Vols [illegible] on day 191 1863

Saint William O McCord was born in [illegible] county state of Wisconnson is Nineteen years of age¹, five feet eleven inches high, dark complexion, grey eyes, dark hair and by occupation when enrolled farmer.
Given at Meadville Alabama this 25th day of January 1864

Richard Roman 13th infantry

¹ Some one screwed up on the age, he was about 26 at discharge.

Interesting stuff, it is also cool to hold a letter written during the Civil War in you hands.

I am Tired of This Winter

Finally a winter, unlike last year, but I am seriously tired of it.

Besides the cold and wet this year....is the effect it has on the black gumbo soil in Victoria.

Having ceramic tile is a curse. Sure it looks nice, you don’t have to vacuum it like carpet and it doesn’t stain, but enough is enough.

After the first really cold spell, a section of tile “bowed up”. I removed the tile, clean the thin set off the slab, cleaned the back of the tile, reset and grouted the tile. Three weeks later another are of tile “bowed up”, I fixed it too. Last week another area of tile “bowed up”. Yesterday I did the final cleaning on that area, and thought to myself, tomorrow another area will do the same.

Low and behold, last night about midnight, I heard “popping”, yeah, I knew it, another area “bowed up”.

I am seriously thinking of a side line job in tile repair, I have had lots of experience lately.

GO AWAY LOWS IN THE 30˚ range and HIGHS IN THE 60˚ range.

I miss summer!!!

OK, I’m done for now.

The err, first attempt... a 14 year olds sailors story

Hitchhiking…………

No, not on the road, on the intercoastal canal………..

The beginning of the tale…

A person who lived in or around Long Island , bought a boat at a salvage sale from the US Navy. Manufactured in 1942, a torpedo retriever, originally built to collect the practice torpedoes fired from PT boats and submarines during training, and also to haul targets for naval gunnery practice.

Originally equipped with a 670 diesel, this owner replaced it with a gas powered Chevy 350.

He retired and decided to take his boat, wife and there three cats to Florida. They made it, barely, unfortunately, the Chevy engine didn’t.

Short of cash, he sold the boat to a broker, who sold it to a person in Texas. How it arrived in La Porte, I don’t know.

Enter my part in this hitchhiking trip.

The boat was purchased when it was docked in La Porte Texas, no engine and all, to supposedly live out its life as a dive boat in Port Aransas.

Day one of moving it to the yard in Engleside Texas , we spent the night in La Porte, every time a ship would pass by in the Houston ship channel the tide would rise about 2’ over the piers, and then go down leaving all kinds of feces, toilet paper ect. All of that laying on top the piers in the boatyard.

This was about 1974; the Houston ship channel had the black water then.

Bright and early the next morning we towed it from the marina out in the ship channel with a 16’ 50 hp outboard. (Understand the boat was 42’, with a 12’ beam and drafted 3 ½ ‘)

The first night we spent just off shore from a refinery in Texas City. The next morning the person in charge of this fiasco decides that instead of towing the boat, we hitchhike on push boats. All well and good, we got a hitch with a Louisiana push boat for a few miles, and they got us another hitch with another boat, again a Louisiana push boat. The push boat crew had just cooked, and err…. that’s the reason I hate fried liver to this day.

One of the strangest things I saw, or maybe these surfers were just dedicated, was that there were 3 or 4 of them, in the Houston ship channel. They would paddle out and wait for the tankers and cargo ships to come by and ride the waves from the ships wake. (The waves looked to me to be about 6’ to 8’, of course black, like the water was.)

Anyway the second push boat took us all the way to the swing bridge at Sergeant, but……going thru the locks at the Colorado River, we lost the out board, and almost lost the big boat, the pilot of the push boat scrubbed it up against the bulk heads at the locks. (When asked, they said they where breaking in a new pilot).

While we where anchored at Sergeant, the current changed and started to turn the boat, so I went to reset the bow line, a 12" passage by the cabin with rotten wood took care of almost half the skin on my foot. My shipmates flagged down a pleasure fisherman, got a ride to shore and went to the store in Sergeant, they bought first aid stuff, a hamburger and a 6 pack of Bud, hot food and cold beer fixes everything..

The guys also went to the swing bridge operators office?, cubicle? Whatever, and heard that the Margo Kelso was coming thru.

One of my shipmates was a commercial diver who had removed a wire rope that was wrapped in the Margo Kelso’s wheel previously, so he knew them. The bridge operator let him talk to them and, believe this or not, they came thru the swing bridge, dropped there barges, and came back and picked us up.

Good Lord oh mercy, a nice push boat, with air conditioning and a shower!!!!!, and as far as I am concerned some of the best spaghetti I ever ate

They took us all the way to the entrance to the Victoria barge cannel, radioed to get us another ride all the way to the bridge over Copano bay where a boat from the Engleside boat yard picked us up. Solid ground at last, then of course followed 3 months of scraping, re-caulking, painting and cleaning out the nastiest bilge that you can imagine (the previous owners 3 cats remember).

A 5 day trip, hitchhiking, eating cold Campbell’s soup straight out of the can most times, kudos to the generosity of the push boat crews that shared their hot meals, they were very much appreciated.

After all was said and done, the boat was a lemon, installed a 470 diesel and it vibrated like hell, had the shaft turned, still vibrated, it turned out that the packing box was warped.

We ended up selling it to a commercial fisherman, so as far as I know, it is still in the Rockport area.

Lot’s of sweat and a lot of memories with that old boat.

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A Jungle Story

The top lion of the jungle ascended to his throne about 5 years ago.

The previous top Lion challenged him but alas the jungle inhabitants decided to choose a new leader.

Things went great for the new leader for a few years, all the lesser power lions agreed with ever decision he deemed correct.

Then a new, lesser power Lion manage to make it all the way into the inner circle, this little Lion would question some of the top Lions decisions.

Lo and behold, the jungle inhabitants decided to listen and elect new lesser power Lions.

One of the most trusted lesser Lions was replaced, this came as a great shock to the top Lion. But he felt secure in the election of a different lesser Lion he knew, and he assumed that that lesser Lion would agree with his views and all would be right in his view of the jungle.

At first,smiles and fair greetings were exchanged between the top Lion and the new lesser Lion.

But things weren't what them seemed, and the top Lion found himself dealing with the lesser Lions that expressed the true feeling of the jungle population.

What to do? Asked the top Lion to himself.

"I know" thought the top Lion, "I will keep making the lesser Lions vote over and over until they agree with me."

Little does the top Lion realize, or maybe he does and he won't accept it, that a new vision for the jungle has been embraced by it's inhabitants

Now the top Lion, faced with adversity, snarls, grunts, rolls his eyes, demeans the new lesser Lions and dreams of the way HE USE TO RULE THE JUNGLE.


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