| Welcome to My G-Grandfather's Attic |
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| My Other Sites: The Past Whispers Old New Orleans My Blog: Historic New Orleans |
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| Pages are cross-indexed under names and locations below. |
| These pages are dedicated to the many family researchers whose kindness and generosity have helped me knock down so many brick walls. "Each smallest act of kindness reverberates across great distances and time, affecting lives unknown to the one whose generous spirit was the source of this good echo, because kindness is passed on and grows each time it's passed, until a simple courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage, years later and far away." -- H. R. White, This Momentous Day |
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| My mother, Nancy Florelle Garrett Jackson, who departed this life on January 20, 2003. She is missed. |
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| Wherever you go, go with all your heart. |
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| Aunt Flora & Aunt Lola |
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| Many fellow researchers and family members have contributed and been involved in the search for the information contained on these pages. Though every care has been taken to insure its accuracy, you should always make an effort to verify information through your own research efforts. The material on these pages may not be copied, altered, converted or uploaded to any electronic system; or re-published in any form, without written permission of the website owner. It may not be transferred, copied or donated to any pay-per-view site. It may not be linked in such a manner as to appear to be an internal part of another site, including, but not limited to, frame capturing. It may not be included in any software collection or print collection of any kind without written permission from the website owner. |
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| Click below to view Mailing Lists I administer: |
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| When I was a child, there was no place more magical to me than the treasure-filled attic of my g-grandfather, Josiah Garrett. The house was located between the villages of Perth and Union Church, in Jefferson County, MS, about three hours north of New Orleans, Louisiana, where I grew up. Josiah was no longer living by then, but his two daughters, Lola Gibson and Flora Dawkins, were in residence. Even as a child, I wouldn't have traded a day in that wonderful old house for a week at Disney World! It was built in 1847 by my 2-g-grandparents, Isaac and Abba Ann Warren Garrett, who raised their family and lived out their lives there, as did Josiah and Flora Carmichael Garrett. The house had once been used as a post office and stopping point for mail riders, who sometimes stayed overnight in the attic. It was called Scotland Post Office, in honor of the many citizens who'd migrated from North Carolina, where their Scottish parents had settled upon their arrival in America. The attic was still filled with remnants of the exciting days when the early Mississippi Territory was just opening up. Trunks overflowed with 100-year-old clothing. My cousins and I would go through the trunks, try on the clothes, look through the old books and newspapers. When we were finally persuaded to join the family downstairs, everyone would gather and listen to Aunt Lola talk about times long past. She would show us the small holes in the exterior walls, left open so that rifles could be inserted in case of Indian attack. She would tell us stories about her childhood, the all-day camp meetings and how young people courted by going on a buggy ride, chaperoned by one of their parents. Her stories were as magical as the attic. Sadly, the old home is no longer there.....the treasures in the attic either scattered or discarded. The walls that reverberated with the laughter of five generations of Garrett children have been torn down. The old floorboards, where Abba Ann walked and paced and prayed---for the children when they were ill, for strength when Isaac died and for a way to feed her family when times grew hard---the floorboards are gone, they no longer echo with the long-ago sounds of Abba Ann's steps. |
| When I see the land now, I can almost smell the biscuits baking and the coffee brewing. I could swear I hear Aunt Lola calling out a greeting from the front porch, "Come on in and put your feet up for a spell.....the dumplings are cooking and Flora's about to make a blackberry pie." It's my imagination, of course. Or maybe, it's the soft breeze, carrying long-ago voices through the tall pines and over the tops of the magnolia trees.....through the open doors of a house that's no longer there. But I can go back. And I do. Time after time. In my mind and in my heart.....in my memories of those lovely family get-togethers and those magical afternoons spent in my g-grandfather's attic. Welcome! Won't you come in and sit a spell? Nancy Brister |
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