Virtual Funeral

Even though I gripe and complain about all the new technology, today I deeply appreciate the ability to see on my computer screen a special occasion taking place many miles from me.

I attended the funeral of my brother's wife, my dear friend, Salita, because Mathews Funeral Home in Albany, GA. live-streamed the service which took place, not inside, but outside at the cemetery.

It was as if I were there with my brother, Max, and his family in the Council Family Cemetery on the farm where I grew up.

To see the old oak tree in the background and the pastures where I rode my horse, brought up a longing to go back to the time my mother and daddy were living, my brothers, my sister, June, her husband Stan were still here. I watched a much-loved friend and family member laid to rest. I heard her granddaughter speak of the love she poured out for all those around her. 

She was loved and she loved.

My eyes brimmed with tears as we listened to the tribute for a woman who was a homemaker, mother, wife, and friend to so, so many. We heard how generous she was to children in need. When her four sons were growing up, their friends filled the house, and Salita always welcomed them to the table loaded with good southern cooking. Christmas was a special time, and she wanted the biggest tree decorated and surrounded with gifts for her family. Wrapping gifts together until the wee hours of the morning and being there for that big breakfast on Christmas morning are memories that will linger with her children and grandchildren and will be passed down over the years.

The minister spoke of the love her sons had always felt from their mother and the love they had for her. All four sons still live nearby and so do their children. Only one grandchild is far away and he is in the Marines.

I feel that I went home today.

I had heard others say they have attended virtual funerals and weddings, but this was my first, and it took place on the land where I spent more than half my life.  I liked that I could hear the remembrance I wrote for Salita read by her granddaughter.

Having lost so many family members and realizing there are only three of the seven siblings living today, my own mortality looms darkly on the horizon. One day my ashes will probably be there in the serene country cemetery with those who have passed on. My heart aches for my brother and his family. And I mourn for a friend I have known since I was twelve years old. 

Salita and Max Council and their granddaughter, Carrie Council

 

One doesn't have to be famous, have thousands of friends on Facebook, have great wealth, win awards, or change the world to be important and special. If one loves freely and helps others when and however they can, that is all that is needed. Salita will forever be remembered as one who loved and gave all she had to make others happy, especially those who needed her. What more could one ask?

A Post from the Past

Today I am going back to 2008 and the post I wrote on my great grandfather John Cecil Council. If you weren't one of my readers back then you might enjoy reading about my ancestors.

John Cecil Council, born in Barbour County, Alabama in 1833, was my great grandfather. He was the son of Temperance Weaver Council. John, in 1845, was one of the first settlers in Wakulla County Florida. He, along with his mother, his sister Susan Council and her husband, Boyet or Lott, either traveled with the Pelts and Poseys or arrived about the same time and they all settled in Crawfordville, Florida. John Cecil acquired a good bit of land around the county. He married Frances DeLaura Posey who birthed a large family before she died.

John then married Missouri Redd. She was referred to as Miss Missouri. The two of them raised a second large family.

At the age of 28, and with children at home, John joined the Florida Militia during the Civil War. He was captured off the coast near his home while fishing to provide food for his unit. The Union ships took him and others captured with him to Shipp Island, off the coast of Louisiana.

When the southern prisoners first arrived on Shipp Island, there were no barracks, only tents, no protection from the wind, rain and large mosquitoes that carried disease. John Council took a leadership role among the prisoners as they set about building their own huts and shelters.

Back home Fanny, his wife, along with a black woman helper kept the farm going and raised the crops and hogs and cattle. She picked the cotton and had it bailed. Fanny's first born was a daughter, Georgianne Council. (1857-1957) Like her mother, Georgianne was strong and resilient. She knew how to use a gun and tramped through the thick woods to kill game for the family.

Georgianne lived a long life. A one hundredth birthday party was held for her and written about in the Wakulla County newspaper, but I hear from cousin Sandra that her birth date might be in question. No matter. Aunt Georgianne was a real pioneer woman who could do the work of any man and actually the work of more than one man from what I've heard. More about her later.

John Cecil Council was highly respected in his community. He was one of the founders of a church in Wakulla County, and was a leader of that church. He lived a long life and fathered his last child when he was in his early seventies.

Over the years I've researched this great grandfather of mine, and I met his youngest daughter as well as hundreds of his descendants. I have copies of his military records, his pension papers, his last will and testament. I've collected stories I've heard about him and hope to one day put them together for my family members.

John Cecil's oldest son, Tom, was my grandfather. Tom and his wife Sarah (Sallie) head the family I write about in Profiles and Pedigrees, Thomas Charles Council and his Descendants.

In this marriage, Tom died young and left Sallie to carry on without him. Tom and Sallie raised ten children, Mae, Charlie, Maude, Oleo, Horace and Hortense (twins), Lillian, Annie, and Coy (my father). Their first born son, John Henry, died at the age of fourteen from malaria. He is buried in the Council Family Cemetery outside of Crawfordville, FL.

Since this was first posted in 2008, my brother Hal Council and his wife, Yvonne, moved down to Wakulla County and in 2010 both of them passed away within three months of each other. They are buried, also, in the Council Family Cemetery where John Cecil and both of his wives are interred. They rest near John Henry's grave. When Tom's family moved up to Georgia in the early 1900s, John Henry's brothers built a one foot wall made of sea shells surrounding his grave. That wall, showing their love for their brother, still stands today.



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Sunsets and Cemeteries in South Georgia

South Georgia sunse t, Monday, February 16, 2009

Two of my nieces Lee and Lyn, standing in the family cemetery, a beautiful place overlooking a small lake. The giant oak tree twists and towers over this quiet area centered in the original 125 acres my father bought in 1942.

He chose this setting for his final resting place. It had some of the prettiest views of the farm. In his later years he was often seen sitting under one of the large oaks on this knoll with one of his beloved bulldogs by his side.

Reunion News and John Henry's story

Horace Council, son of Thomas C. Council

Today I heard from Beverly C., secretary for the John C. Council family reunion. She said the gathering this year was wonderful. It rained just the day before and settled the dust. "the reunion is a lot of fun, especially now that we have the family presentations, cake walk, auction and always lots of good food. This year we had smoked mullet, fried mullet, mullet gizzards, red and white roe and all kinds of good covered dishes and desserts."
Not being from that area where fishing has always been a mainstay, I'm not sure I knew fish had gizzards. I need to look into that a bit more.

I was touched when she told me she has the large tri-fold display board I made last year for the Tom Council family presentation, and she put it out for everyone to see this year. She plans to display it every year. I worked hard on that project and I'm proud of it. Thanks, Beverly.

Thomas Charles Council and Sarah Brock Council had ten children. They were: Mae, Maude,Charlie, Oleo,John Henry,Horace, Hortense, Lillian, Annie, and Coy. John Henry died of malaria when he was only fourteen years old. His parents, especially his mother, were devastated, and so were his brothers and sisters. Before the family left the area and moved to Pelham Georgia about 1910, Charlie and Horace built a small wall around their brother's grave in the Council Family cemetery in Wakulla County. They used small sea shells, maybe oyster shells, which today are still there, or they were the last time I visited that cemetery, showing the love of these boys for their older brother.

John Henry was the only one of Tom and Sarah's family buried in that cemetery, but many years later, when Horace died, his family placed a stone, marked with his name, near John Henry's grave.

A Hidden Council Family Cemetery

Today I talked with my brother Rex. Within a few weeks the farm where I grew up, the farm my father bought in 1942 with a loan from the government, the farm where I played or rode my horse in every field or clump of woods, where I walked through early dew and smiled at morning glories swinging from a fence, that farm will no longer be mine in any way. It will belong to the sons of my brother Max Council. And so things change. But at least the farm will stay within the family -- at least for a generation we hope.
The Council Family Cemetery is located on that farm on Fleming Road in Albany, Georgia. Coy Lee Council and Lois Robison Council are buried together there. Stanley Hunter is buried there and my brother Coy Ray Council is buried there.
Few people even know this cemetery exists. You won't find it listed on graveyard.com or even on Ancestry.
Coy Lee Council, my father loved that land so much, he never wanted to leave it. He wanted to be buried there. He prepared himself years ahead to be in that place for eternity. On Sunday mornings he walked or drove his pickup over to the area where some years before a large swimming pool was built by our family. He sat there for a couple of hours on Sunday and communed with his God. Now, just past the swimming pool, on the other side of a fence, these four graves announce to visitors that they have entered a cemetery.
Depending on how well it is cared for in the coming years, my other brothers and my sister June will be buried there.