Are you a Robison? Are you a Cooper or a Jones?

These are some of the lines in my mother's family. Mother was Georgia Lois Robison. Her father was William Henry Robison. His father was John Monroe Robison.

In researching my genealogy which I really enjoy when I have the time, I found my Mother's last name spelled in many, many different ways. Even today, her uncle Oliver's family spells it wrong.

Census records and other records from the past 100 years or more, have Robison spelled wrong:: Robinson, Roberson, Robertson, Robeson, Robson, and on and on.

From my research I find that the Robisons, my family line, come from Ireland. I am sure that today I could find all the names above in Ireland. But I have not gone back that far in research.

Ancestry.com has become a big disappointment to me. I find tons of mistakes because people just simply copy what others put on their family tree. They don't find sources for their names. They seem to believe anything they see.

I have seen an entire family listed for my grandfather John Monroe Robison that is wrong. I know John Monroe had a brother named Larkin and another brother, William. My research shows that Larkin and William lived in Florida not far from my father's family, the Councils. All three Robisons enlisted in the Confederate army in Leon County Florida.

The confusion comes when the tomb stones have the spelling of the last name wrong. Or Find a Grave has the spelling and other information wrong. Family Search says they cannot change an error when I contacted them about some mistakes they have on their site about my own family.

Although it took me ten years to write my Council family history, I corroborated my information. Too many new genealogists are not patient and don't want to do real research. They jump to the information that is close to what they want to believe.

Sometimes our sources can be wrong. The Pelham newspaper had an obit for my father's brother-in-law, Willie Gilreath which said he was buried in the Pelham cemetery but no one can find his grave. We know he had family in Tennessee but seems no one can find his grave there either.

Often in our research, we dig up bones no one wants to know about. Some of my cousins were shocked to find their grandfather's mother was not who they thought. A son was born out of wedlock and he was raised by the married sister in the family, not his biological mother. Today those things are not that unusual but in the early twentieth century, it was hush-hush. In my book, that was one mistake I didn't know about and so a family of descendants are listed incorrectly.

I am not looking for those kinds of things when I am researching. I am more interested in the history of the people. If I am related to the first Robison to enter this country, I want to know who he is and where he came from.

John Monroe Robison in chair surrounded by his children

Cousins and brother looking at graves in Providence Cemetery where
John Monroe Robison is buried

According to my DNA sent in to Ancestry, all my family comes from England, Ireland and that part of Europe. And they came to this country in the 1600s and 1700s. I'd sure like to know who those early guys were and what they did..

Do you, my readers, enjoy genealogy or digging up bones?

Looking for Old Stones in hot south Georgia

On my recent trip down to south Georgia where I was born and lived half my life, my brother Max and I, along with two second cousins, Latrelle and Rob, visited a couple of cemeteries. One was in Pelham, Georgia where my grandfather and grandmother Robison are buried. That is also where my grandfather and grandmother Council are buried, but we were only looking for Robisons on this trip.

We arrived at Pelham Cemetery around noon and it was hot as I expected it to be. What I didn’t expect was my reaction to the heat. After only a short time while Max and my cousins stood out in the hot son discussing family,  I tried to find a place in the shade where I could sit down. There was no place. Inside the car was even warmer. I found a short stone wall and sat down hoping the dizzy feeling I was having would disappear. For a few seconds I felt I might pass out and fall right there on a grave. I leaned over and put my head down as far as I could without tipping off the wall and breathed deeply. Would they ever stop talking? How could I get them to take me out of that heat?

I called out, “Can we go now? I need to find a bathroom.”

That was as good as calling  Fire when you need Help. Everyone turned and headed for the car. The AC saved my life, or at least saved me from keeling over. I just can’t take heat anymore.We found a Hardee’s and went inside. A cold drink helped immensely.

Soon we were back on the road searching for the tiny little town of Whigham, Georgia, the birthplace of my mother and most of her family. There we would search for Providence Cemetery near Providence Baptist Church. My grandparents attended the Tired Creek Methodist Church, I think, but my great grandfather, John Monroe Robison and his wife Idella Cooper Robison are buried in Providence Cemetery. I don’t think John Monroe was a Baptist, but he is there. Between Rob’s memory and my memory of visiting there over twenty years ago, we found the old cemetery, but what a different place.

When last I was there, the graveyard was overgrown and unkempt, as though it had been forgotten.  It was a long way from the church. But on this day we found the place looking peaceful and serene surrounded by farm land and forests. Only the sound of birds broke the silence as we approached the green field with the modest grave stones.  

No one was there but the three of us. I headed to the right side where the oldest stones laid weathered and gray. Rob agreed with me that this was the area where he had seen John Monroe’s grave when he visited with our cousin Peggy many years ago. But we could not find it. We found Ida Jones Robison, the first wife of my grandfather William. We found George Jones, the father of Ida, and some others of the Jones line.

I began to wonder if we were in the right place or if somehow the stone of the one we sought had been removed. I walked down past all the Merritts and the Waldens who were also distant relatives, descendants of our John Robison, their graves newer and shinier than the one I was looking for.

I was hot and ready to give up on my search when Latrelle called out. “Here is a Robison. Is this the one we want?”  

We gathered around the grave and read the words carved into the stone. It was our ancestor, John Monroe Robison, who served in the Confederate Army as a blacksmith. He survived the war and lived a long life.

Beside him lies his wife whose name was not spelled out. I.F. Robison is carved into the stone of Idella Frances Cooper Robison. Women were not as important as the men in the world where she worked hard and bore children, cooked and cleaned and met her husband’s needs.

John Monroe Robison in chair with his five sons and five daughters. Third from left is my grandfather, William Henry Robison

In a letter to the editor of a local newspaper, someone wrote about this large family and how important Mr. and Mrs. John Robison were to the community. The writer said he remembered the family sitting on the porch in the evenings and singing together. I am not surprised that my mother came from a musical family. She loved to sing and listen to music, especially the singing of her four sons.

Latrelle who lives in Franklin, Tennessee and Rob who lives in Arkansas, made pictures of each other at the grave sites. I’m sure they want to share them with their families who have never been to south Georgia.

It was a long day, but one I will not forget. I enjoy Rob so very much. He reminds me of my mother, open and friendly and interested in everything. My day with Latrelle, who is also a writer, could not have been more fun for me. I feel like we are old friends. Maybe there is something to this DNA thing. Perhaps our connection is strong because the same genes run through our blood. Perhaps it is because we all care about our ancestors and their life stories.

We agreed that we would get together next year at my house in North Carolina. I look forward to that time. 

Genealogy and Our Health

In recent weeks, I've gone back to researching family history online. In 1998, I published a family history book based on my father's family. Now I am looking at my mother's side, the Robisons, Jones and Coopers.

John Monroe Robison, seated, and his children, probably taken between 1900 and 1910

Genealogy research becomes a huge puzzle as I look for little pieces that connect people I know are my family to those with the same names or similar names. Besides census records, which are easy to see online now, I looked for  military records, pension papers, etc.

I found an application for a pension by my great grandfather, John Monroe Robison. I read all the forms connected with this request. He was 78 years  old and evidently had to have two doctors examine him and give their opinions about his health.

He applied in 1906. Two doctors said he was feeble, weak and had a mitral valve problem as well as a hernia.  A witness stated that John could not do physical work. John stated he depended on an unmarried daughter to care for him. 

The papers required him to tell his military history during the Civil War. This man served in the Confederate Infantry for three years. I found his war records in Leon County, Florida where he was discharged. On this form he says he enlisted in Bainbridge, Georgia in 1862. He came home in 1865 and continued to farm his acreage in south Georgia. But he was denied his pension because he owned land and had paid taxes on it each year. 

In 1908, he applied again. He had given his land to his children. He could no longer farm and could not pay the taxes. He contributed only $25 a  year to his  upkeep. His doctors said he was feeble, weak and had a large hernia in his right side. He also had congestive heart failure.

This was the part that caught my interest. Congestive Heart Failure. My mother had CHF, my sister had CHF, my brother has CHF. Two other brothers died suddenly from heart attacks. My mother's mother died from a sudden heart attack. Now I learn that my great grandfather had congestive heart failure. 

Will I be like my father who died from pneumonia at the age of 88? Or do I have  the  genes of my mother's family? Will I ultimately deal with heart issues that cripple and cause suffering?

Finding this  health information in my great grandfather's records intrigues me. Now I want to know more about those people I never met but who passed down their genes to  me.

That information is not as easy to find online. I will continue to search for the story of their lives, but I will be acutely interested in their health and  how they died. 

So far, my cardiologist gives me good reports on my heart health. I get checkups every year, but I'm always a little worried each time I take a stress test or even an EKG. 

We  can't change our genetic makeup, but I want to know what I might expect so I can do my best to take proper care of myself. John Robison lived in a time before the many advances in heart care. Still, he lived a  long life for the time. In today's world, with today's medical care, he might have lived much longer. My brother, who has been diagnosed with CHF, now has a pace maker and walks a mile every day. He is in his mid-eighties and says  he is doing well.

From what I can tell by reading those forms, John Robison was denied a pension again in 1908. He died in 1910. 

Genealogy of Mother's family, the Robisons

John Monroe Robison, in chair, and his children by wife Idella Frances Cooper who was disceased.
Left to Right: Sarah Robison Oats,Melissa Robison Walden, Willie Henry Robison (my grandfather)
Ira Robison, Annie Robison Thomas,Oliver Robison,
Jesse Robison, Coy Robison, Eula Robison Mashburn
Leila Robison Nicholson (nickname: Dumpy)

I often write about my father's family, the Councils, but Mother's family also comes from south Georgia. Mother, Lois Robison, was born near the town of Whigham, GA and her father, William Henry Robison, son of John Monroe Robison, farmed in Decatur County, GA. John Monroe is buried in the old Providence Cemetery in Grady County. Linda Wimmer, a cousin I recently met, lives in Florida and has begun tracing our Robison line.

As we began a photo organization project recently, I came across a photo of Willie and Lula Robison and all their children plus a photo of a couple that I believe is John M. Robison and his wife Idella Frances Cooper Robison.

In a later picture of Willie and Lula's children the sisters are seated on the front row and the three brothers stand behind them. Lois dearly loved her brothers and sisters. Mildred was the youngest child, two years younger than Lois and they were as different as night and day. Two other sisters, Edith and Berma, married brothers, Sidney and John Blitch.

Lois and Mildred were small children when the family lived on the farm. Edith often babysat the little kids while Lula helped her husband in the fields.

"She would whip us for the least little thing," Lois said in her later years. But she adored her sister anyway.

The Robisons moved to Pelham Georgia in the early 1900's just as the Council family did, because J.L. Hand, a wealthy northern man who founded the town, opened a business that employed and paid wages to children and adults. The Robisons and the Councils were urged to move there and put all those kids to work in Mr. Hand's plant just as many of the people who lived in rural areas.

William Robison, a good carpenter and a good chimney builder, took the job of caretaker for all of Mr. Hand's buildings, the largest of which was Hand Trading Company. This giant enterprise covered an entire block in the center of the town. The store was a forerunner of the big box stores of today.

My father said, "Hand Trading Company claimed they supplied everything you needed, from the cradle to the grave."

They carried caskets and baby cradles as well as anything else a household might need. Like people today flock to the malls to shop, in Pelham and surrounding area, everyone traded with the big store.

Sometime after December 23, 1904, lines were re-drawn and parts of Decatur County became a new county, Grady. Therefore, my mother's birthplace is presently in Grady County, but her birth is recorded in Decatur county, Bainbridge, GA.

Once while pouring over old books in the Decatur County Courthouse, I uncovered dusty records and felt like I was digging for treasure. The name Robison, also often spelled Robinson, was seen throughout the decades in wills, land transfers, and other papers as well as the name Cooper, my great grandfather's family name.

I've not researched the origin of John Monroe Robison's family, but I believe they came to Georgia from Virginia by way of South Carolina. Samuel Cooper has been traced back to that area.

Another cousin, Norman Cooper, sent me much information on the Cooper family. He has done extensive research.

I hope to go down to the Macon Georgia library in a few months and research the Robison line and the Jones line on my mother's side. My grandmother, Malula Jones, was the daughter of John Jones. I also have more research on that family.

When I have more time I hope to continue with my genealogy research, but for now I have to put those plans on hold.

Passing on our Wisdom

Since I am an "over fifty" person, I find the online journal Persimmon Tree filled with stories, essays and poems I relate to and I recommend that "under fifty" women and men read this ezine. In our youth-centered culture, much could be learned if the wisdom of mature individuals was respected and shared with those who could benefit from our struggles.

Page from old album: William Henry Robison, daughter Mildred, and Lula Jones Robison.

I've been fortunate in my life to have the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of children, as a teacher and as a friend. In recent years I've come to know younger women who counsel with me on issues important to them. We learn from each other, and I imagine that to be the way of generations past, when grandmothers lived with their children's families.
I never knew my grandmothers. They died long before I was born.What I know about them, I heard about from others. My sister June told me how she liked to sit in the hammock of Mama's dress as it hung between her knees. Mama was my mother's mother, Lula Robison. June loved Mama. I envy her having known the woman whose name I carry. Mother named me Glenda Lou in memory of her mother. As a child I hated the name. My first grade teacher called me by both names: "Glenda Lou, please read."

I came home from school upset and complaining. "Mother, I hate Lou. I don't want her to call me that." No one at home ever used my second name.

It was many years later that I accepted the honor that accompanied the name. My brother Hal still calls me "Glenda Lou" at times. And my husband often shortens it to "Lou." It conjures up a picture of Mama, the woman Mother spoke of with nothing but love in every word. Just as I speak of Mother who learned her parenting skills from Mama and practiced them on all seven of us.

My grandmother was William's second marriage. He first married her sister Ada who died in childbirth when pregnant with their first child.

I wonder how Lula felt about William before he married her sister. Did she come to fall in love with him after he was widowed as she consoled him in his grief? His name was William Henry Robison. Her name was Malula Jones. Both lived in Decatur County Georgia before their marriage where William's father, John Monroe Robison was a well respected man in the community. John served in the Confederacy as a blacksmith.

What stories they could have told me. What stories I could have heard from my mother if I'd only asked more questions, listened to her history.

I plan to do more discovery of my Robison family in the coming months.
But I'll never know my grandmothers.