Tag Archives: Margaret Ragsdale Caple

LETTERS FROM MONA – Part 37 -November 15 -November 30.

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Nagrom, Wn.
Nov. 15th, 1914

Dear Mazie,

Well as I have nothing else to do this evening guess I will bother you a little. Wish I could look in and see what you are doing this evening but that is a little farther than I can see, all I can do it wonder.

I am still as well as ever and also as lonesome as ever and hope you can say the same, except for the lonesome part.

Got your letter the other day and of course was glad. Sorry that your Mother isn’t well and hope she will soon be alright again you must take good care of her and not let her get bad sick for that is a bad business.

It is nice that you are having such fine weather in Wyoming this fall and hope you will have lots more of it. The weather here has been fierce all this month, about the worse I ever saw in November. It has rained thirteen of the fifteen days so far; not bad record is it? I wouldn’t mind the rain so much if it wasn’t so cold and windy with it. There hasn’t been so very much snow down here in the canyon yet but there is plenty of it all around us and not so very far away either. There hasn’t been any rain or snow today but it is awfully cold and frosty. I walked up to the hotspring this afternoon and almost froze.

The camp is going to close down for the winter in four weeks from now and I won’t be sorry when that time comes either if the weather is going to continue like it has been lately.

This camp and I guess most all the camps in the country are going to be closed down all winter, so guess I will have quite a long vacation. Will probably have more time than I will know what to do wish I could spend it as pleasantly as I spent my vacation last winter.

The folks say they are sure going to Misoura about the first of the month if nothing happens to prevent. I have been trying to get them to put it off until spring but guess there is nothing doing. If they don’t get away before the camp shuts down I may decide to go along and spend the winter in Misoura myself.

    • Roy’s Mother, Margaret Melinda Ragsdale Caple

    If you are not going to move to town right away do you think you will get moved before Christmas. How are you going to spend Thanksgiving- Day? Do you remember Thanksgiving day a couple of years ago?

    I suppose I shall spend it at home this year provided the folks aren’t going way before I get through work. If they don’t I won’t go down until the camp shuts down.

    Well I guess I have told you about all there is to tell so will ring off and go to bed.
    Give my regards to all the folks and keep some for your self.
    As ever Roy

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    Mona Wyo
    Sunday Nov 16, 1914

    Dear Roy,-


    How are you today I hope fine. I am pretty well. And all the rest.
    It is some what cooler than usual, but not so bad when the sun shines.
    My Aunt that old lady I have spoken about, is here. She is 87 years old and oh dear she just suffers so much with her head their is nothing to do for it for she is so old so she just has to suffer and she just walks the floor and groans and asks us what she will do. Oh my it almost make me wild some time for she suffers so I feel so sorry for her. She was so glad to come over to see us and we just think the world of her. A person never knows what they will have to suffer before they die. But I hope I never live to be so old as that tho.

     I was up and got my tooth fixed a week ago Saturday and I didn’t get home until I was nearly crazy with it. I just about went wild for two days and nights and so Tuesday I went back and Mr. Barrett fixed some more so it has been some better but he can’t fix it for good for some time yet, but can keep it from aching which is the main thing.
    I wish you was here today I could talk but it is hard for me to write for I am so nervous today. There was a dreadful fire got out just above Mr. Harrington’s house up on the hill above or old house, down at Donald and it burnt down as far as the straw stack. My it was awful. They thot it was going to burn them all up but they finally got it stopped.


    Have you heard from home lately I supose you will soon be going down there soon won’t you?

    Hazel went to see her chum. She stays in Deadwood and is coming home today to stay a few hours and wanted Hazel to come up too. I wish I could go and visit with my chum for a few hours but I don’t supose I will for a while. I got a letter from Vera a few days ago and hear from her quite often she is pretty good to write I hope she will always be good that way.

    (China letter: Your letter never was noticed I was lucky. You had better come to Wyo to stay for I never can stand to part again. Mae)

    I got your card the other day. Was awful glad of course I looked for a letter but was glad any way. I don’t write as often as I should but you must excuse me. Well I will stop my scribbling and comb my hair as we are going to have lots of company and I wish you were coming. I don’t know just when we will move to town. Well good bye
    As ever Mae.

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    November 19,1914

    Dear Diary,

    Today we finally got around to making a new batch of soap as we had a lot of lard saved up in our old caste iron pot. Mama never lets any grease go to waste; any we have left over goes into that black pot. In the fall we put it into a large kettle saved for soap making and add lye. It is a hot business boiling it over a good fire while stirring constantly until it flows from your stick like thick molasses. Then we pour it into molds and let is sit for a day or longer before cutting it into bars. Nothing cleans laundry better than Mama’s good lye soap. It cleans just about anything else too. But for my baths I kind of like the scented store-bought stuff.

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    November 24, 1914

    Dear Diary,

    I got another letter from Roy today. I opened it with trepidation so much did my heart fear he was going to say he decided to go to Missouri instead of coming here. Sometimes it is hard for me to read between the lines because he knows my folks see everything and he must be careful in what he says. Fortunately, this letter also had a china letter written in the envelope. They never look at those. Though, it seemed an eternity until I had enough private time to decipher it.  I can breathe easier now, for he said he intends to come visit no matter where we go this winter. I do not know how I am going to wait another month which is probably how long it will be before he gets here.

    There was a turkey shoot and dance over at my Uncle Herb Phillips, place but we did not go. It’s kind of far when it is cold and it is freezing out now.

    He is having another one for Christmas maybe we will get to go to that one.

    There is a dance and dinner in Donald on Thanksgiving. We are planning on going. I am already blue thinking about it. I know I won’t be able to get Roy out of my mind at all that day. Instead I will be wishing I were in Puyallup with him like I was a couple of years ago. I must keep my sights on late December when I will see him again.

    And so, I best put this writing aside and start on those socks again. Sadie gave me wool enough to make several warm, toasty pairs. I suppose I should try to make a pair for Papa and Daniel, too. I know Roy said he still has his scarf and hat from last year but maybe he could use another pair of mittens. They get more wear and tear. So, knit one, purl one, away I go.

    The Old Star Quilt

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    Family history writing prompt 4 – Choose and artifact that once belonged to one of your ancestors. Write as though you are that object, tell about who owned it and what history the artifact might have witnessed.

    It was the star quilt given to me by my Aunt Iva I chose to write about. As I mentioned in writing prompt 1, Margaret Ragsdale Caple called three women mother. The quilt pictured above was made by one of those women. I have been told the quilt could date back to as far as the 1850’s so for this piece I am going to assume it was made  by Margaret’s birth mother.

     

    IF I COULD TALK

     

    Go ahead take a close look at me. Yes, I am worn and faded. It’s a wonder I’m still around after all I am 160 years old. I was expertly stitched together by the 5th great-grandmother of the child in photo above. Examine me closely  and you will see I’m made of many small diamonds. It wasn’t easy to stitch those and keep my star laying flat. Back then my colors were vibrant and I was given a place of honor on the bed of little girl named Margaret.

    I covered her bed when this nation, torn apart by slavery, fought a civil war. Bushwhackers roamed the countryside of Missouri where she lived so her family sought safety elsewhere. But other dangers lurked, soon smallpox robbed Margaret of her adopted mother and sister.

    I went with the little girl and her grieving adopted father back to their home in Brookline, Missouri after the war. There I kept her warm at night and watched. Soon her father remarried and once again the house was filled with laughter and children.

    I was there when a handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed widower stole her heart, and they moved with his two children to a farm in Osborn County, Kansas. I graced their bed the night their first-born son, named Samuel after his handsome Papa, was born and when more children followed.

    And oh the stories I could tell of the wild west in and around Dodge City, in the 1880’s. But it was the  winter of 1887 and 1888 that was the hardest. I had to work extra hard to keep the little ones warm. It was so cold, come spring the family decided to move west.

    At 30, I was already considered old and worn, still Margaret found me good enough to keep her little boys warm as they camped beside the Oregon trail. It was along this trail her little boy, Roy, fell in love with my bright, big star. Sometimes he make a wish upon me before he fell asleep.

    I was covering him the night he first lost someone he loved and was with the family when they buried his big sister Ida, somewhere along the trail.

    I traveled with the family, always keeping him warm, as they moved from place to place in Eastern and Western Washington and Oregon, no place good enough, until 1894 they decided to join family in Beaver county, Oklahoma.

    Goodness the tales I could tell of living in a tiny, dusty sod house with a family of 7. I heard the muffled sobs beneath my star the night Samuel Jr. was carried home after drowning in a flash flood. Such a loss, just as he was on the brink of adulthood.

    Times were changing, a new century arrived. Within a couple of years the family sold their Oklahoma ranch and headed back to Washington.This time I rode in style inside a train.

    I was in the wagon the day Margaret put her foot down and told Sam she was not moving again – Puyallup was as good as any place. Soon I resided in a fine house, one I would stay in for more than 20 years.

    Life for Margaret was changing, too. The children were growing up, her husband traded in his horse-drawn delivery wagon for a new motorized truck.

    I watched as the boys reached manhood and began to make their own way in the world. I heard the worries over a coming war and the fears that loved ones would be lost. I listened to  arguments for and against prohibition.I was there to huddle under when the father of the household passed away.

    In time Margaret relocated in Orting, Washington. It made me happy she chose to take me along. She kept me on her big feather bed. My best days were when the grandchildren visited and snuggled with her beneath my star.

    I was there the sad day she awoke babbling nonsense. I watched as her frightened grandchildren called for help. Soon Margaret was moved to the GAR home in Puyallup and I was left all alone.

    The little boy named Roy, all grown up now, arrived to close up the house. He was going to throw me out.

    “Too worn to be of any use,” he said.

    But memories of our trip along the Oregon Trail and the wishes made beneath my star changed his mind. He took me home to cover furniture stored in his attic.

    I still heard the family stories. I knew how hard Roy struggled to provide for his family during the great depression. I heard his wife on the days she coughed and wheezed and couldn’t catch her breath. And oh I how I longed to wrap myself around Roy’s shoulders the day he lost his beloved wife.

    I watched as his little boy and girl became adults and left for work in Bremerton. Another war was coming, soon Roy left, too.   .

    And I was left in the attic without my family near. From from time to time Roy would come for a stay. Sometimes he’d come to the attic and smile when he touched me, remembering our days together along the Oregon trail, until one day he was gone forever,too.

    The daughter knew her father loved me, so she took me to live in a drawer in her attic. A new century arrived.

    Another Margaret came to visit, a great grand-daughter of Margaret. The daughter took her to the attic and pulled me out of the drawer. She told the story of how I had kept her Grandpa Roy warm on the Oregon trail.

    “Would you like to have it now?” she asked.

    The new Margaret said she loved old quilts like me. She took me to her house. No longer do I sit in an attic.

    It’s been a long, long time since the loving hands that stitched me together left this earth.  The little girl whose bed I graced, her little boy who slept under me on the trail and his little girl are all gone, too. But their memories live on in the threads that bind me to them and future generations.

     

     

     

     

    DEAR MARGARET-FAMILY HISTORY CHALLENGE -PROMPT 1

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    November is family history month. I am taking FAMILY HISTORY MAGAZINE’S challenge to write from a daily writing prompt. I plan to post them here on my blog but don’t expect me to get them done in a month.

    Prompt one – Choose an ancestor you never knew that you wish you could talk with to learn more of their life history. After mulling it over I decided to write to the ancestor I was named after for, Margaret Ragsdale Caple, my great-grandmother.

    Margaret Malinda Ragsdale Caple

    DEAR MARGARET- FAMILY HISTORY CHALLENGE- PROMPT 1

    Dear Margaret,

    You and I share the same first name. My father, your grandson spoke fondly of you. Both he and his sister told me about the fun they had sleeping in your big feather bed.

    My Aunt Iva loved the tea parties you had together. She gave me your teapot, it sits on a shelf where I see it daily. I wish we could sit and talk while sipping some of your delicious sarsaparilla tea. There is so much I’d like to ask.

    For instance, how did you meet my great-grandfather Samuel Hugh Caple when he lived Jasper County, Iowa and you in Green County, Missouri? Was the age difference between you ever a problem? What was it like traveling the Oregon Trail?  What was it like living in a sod house? Which of your three mothers made the big star quilt I now own?  Which  brings me to the question I most want answered. Who were your birth parents?  I’m sure you knew. Your children said your parents died when you were an infant during a measle or small pox epidemic and you were adopted by cousins.

    Through my research, I know you were born in 1858. Two years later in the 1860 census you were living in the home of Richard Jordan Ragsdale, age 52 and his first wife Jincy, age 49. You are listed after their children, a niece and her infant and Richard’s brother William Ragsdale. Your name, Margaret, is easy to read but the word after it, beginning with M, is not. It could be your last name, perhaps Munda or it could be Melinda, which was your middle name.

    Some researchers think you might have been the granddaughter of Richard Jordan’s sister Lavina who married Edwin Adams. When they died, leaving three young daughters, Sally Merritt Ragsdale their grandmother cared for them and after her death, Richard Jordan and Jincy took over. If you belonged to one of them, it would have been natural for them to raise you. I can find no information on what happened to two of the girls so it could be true but you would have been Richard Jordan’s great-niece not cousin.

    You could also have been a cousin of Jincy and I guess the Adams girls were her cousins for she and Richard shared the same ancestry. Jincy’s grandfather was Richard’s great grandfather and their mothers were sisters. Was all that as confusing for you as it is for me?  Or maybe you never knew about it because in 1863, when you were five, Jincy and her daughter died of smallpox. It was during the Civil War and the family had moved to Rolla, Missouri for safety. I wonder if this is where the story of your losing your parents in a smallpox epidemic comes from, I guess I’ll never know. Richard remarried a widow in 1865 giving you a third mother and she and Richard went on to have nine more children.

    By the time the 1870 census was taken, you were listed as one of the Ragsdale’s with no distinction made between you and the other children. It’s clear in a letter Richard Jordan wrote you in 1888 (now in my possession) that he thought of you as a daughter. And you named your youngest son after him.

    Recently I had my DNA tested, something you never heard of. Perhaps one day it will help unravel the mystery of your parents. In the meantime, I will have to content myself with knowing my DNA suggests a link, to the Ragsdale tree, the same tree, Richard Jordan and Jincy belong on.

    Sincerely your Great-granddaughter.

    Margaret

     

     

     

    Which ancestor would you like to talk to?  Why?  Please, feel free to let me know in the comment section below.