Located in the Village of Augusta, Augusta Township, Carroll County, Ohio

This site has been prepared
in loving memory of

Paul Edgar Brown (1909-1999)
and
Pauline Beulah Kinsey Brown (1910-1987)

by their daughter, Bette Ina Brown

with assistance from her daughters,
Cyndy Kay Solon Pryor
and Natalie Anne Solon Hansen
and her granddaughter,
Terra Evon Hansen

Extensive research has been, and is being, provided by
Pat McArtor of Columbiana County, Ohio.
Pat is the wife of Randy Brown, who is the son of
Ralph H. Brown, and the grandson of Cemetery Residents,
Ina Geneva McGranahan Brown and Harry Joseph Brown.

Joseph W. Eisel is providing invaluable research,
most notably by researching death records of Residents,
which provide a wealth of information
that has proven to be priceless.
Joe is the great-grandson of Cemetery Residents,
Taylor C. Woodward and Alice Emma Paisley Woodward.

 

If this is your first visit to our site, please be patient while the music loads.

The Story Tellers.....
 

We are the chosen.  In each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors; to put flesh on their bones and make them live again; to tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve.

Doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts, but instead, breathing life into all who have gone before.  We are the story tellers of the tribe.  All tribes have one.  We have been called, as it were, by our genes.  Those who have gone before cry out to us:  Tell our story.  So, we do.

In finding them, we somehow find ourselves.  How many graves have I stood before now and cried?  I have lost count.  How many times have I told the ancestors you have a wonderful family; you would be proud of us?  How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me?  I cannot say.

It goes beyond just documenting facts.  It goes to who am I and why do I do the things I do?  It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying I can't let this happen.  The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh.

It goes to doing something about it.  It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish; how they contributed to what we are today.  It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. 

It goes to deep pride that the fathers fought and some died to make and keep us a Nation.  It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us.

It is of equal pride and love that our mothers struggled to give us birth; without them we could not exist, and so we love each one, as far back as we can reach.

That we might be born who we are.  That we might remember them.  So we do.  With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are they, and they are the sum of who we are.

So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family.  It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take my place in the long line of family storytellers.


(Unknown Author)

 

The music you hear playing is a short cut from the hymn:

Going Home

Sung by Paul Robeson
at Carnegie Hall
on May 9, 1958

Going home, going home,

I'm just going home;
Quiet-like, some still day,

I'm just going home.

It's not far, just close by,
Through an open door;
Work all done, care laid by,
Going to fear no more.

Mother's there expecting me,
Father's waiting too;
Lots of folks gathered there,
All the friends I knew,
All the friends I knew.

Home, Home, I'm going home!


(arr. Fisher)
{set to the music of Dvorak's 9th Symphony, third movement}


To hear the full version of this song, click here.