Monday, May 13, 2024

Jackson Family Line



Robert Jackson and Agnes (unknown last name)

Child: John Jackson


Col. John Jackson and Elizabeth Seaman

Child: James Jackson


James Jackson and Rebecca Hallett

Child: Joseph Jackson


Joseph Jackson and Ann Robinson

Child: Edward William Jackson



Edward William Jackson and Martha Miller

Child: William Jackson


William Jackson and Hannah Bennett

Child: Benjamin Basil Jackson


                                                         





                                                Benjamin Basil Jackson(above) and Elizabeth Jane Champion

                                                         Child: Stephen Orlando


                                                        Stephen Orlando Jackson and Cora Marilla Walterhouse

                                                        Child: Floyd Wesley

                                                                                               (below)



                                                               Floyd Wesley Jackson and Mildred Agnes Farr

                                                               Child: Louise Mae. (Below)


                                                                                            


                                                             Louise Mae Jackson and Alvin Dale Lahmann

                                                             Child: Randall Lee, Lorita Kaye (below)



                                                                                      

                                                                                     Louise Jackson Siblings: (lft to rt) Carl, 

                                                                   Edwin, James, Josephine, Louise, 

                                                                                      Benjamin







                                                   Lorita Kaye Lahmann (below) and Robert Joseph O’Leary (above)

                                                                                Child: Ryan Patrick O’Leary





                                                              Randall Lee's family (below)

                                                        Wife Wilda King and her parents: (left to right) Louise, nephew

                                                           Ryan with Crystal, Jim King, Wilda holding Alissa, Virginia 

                                                           King with Jon Michael, Scott, Melanie, Randall Lee, Alvin






                                                                         
 

                                                                        Later addition to Randall's family:
                                                                          Danielle with grandma Louise




"I have ever had a pleasure in obtaining any little anecdotes of my ancestors." – Benjamin Franklin





The Jackson Family


Although the name of Jackson is as ancient as the language we speak, it is not easy to trace the genealogy of the family back further than the tenth or eleventh century. The Jacksons are chiefly and unequivocally Anglo-Saxon. The traditions of the family which now survive indicate that the Jackson's were men of decision, of character and firmness of purpose. In times when men, as Tennyson says, "had to dodge or duck or die,” they appear to have been steadfast in their adherence to their convictions, especially in religion.  


(Library of Congress, April 1983 A Branch of the Jackson Correlated-Families,

1730–1911, Samuel Nelson Jackson)


Wednesday, May 11, 2016

A Change in Life



I enjoy looking out my window at the birds - I find it both entertaining and relaxing. I feed them and bought them a bird bath, all of which I placed out by the Dogwood tree in the backyard. The one my dad planted. Now the tree creates a little haven for the various birds that visit the yard. Once in a while I have to chase out a neighbor cat. They enjoy the birds too but for a different reason than me.

The Dogwood tree
My life has slowed down immensely in the past two years since I retired. Now I get to enjoy things I never would have notice in my past busy schedule of working three jobs and taking a weekend course. I have time to do what I want to do. I like it.

My dad, Alvin, died in 2008 after a three year struggle with Myelofibrosis, a disorder of the bone marrow. It affects the red blood cells and people get anemic. It started with him complaining about being tired all the time. I watched my once energetic father struggle to move, lose weight, get infusions (a type of transfusion) progressively until he was getting them every couple of weeks. He was a trooper. I remember him carrying the water can from plant to plant outside on hot days. Watering the few plants that managed to survive his slow health decline. He continued to maintain the house with my mother Louise’s help. But then my mom wasn’t doing that great either and she ended up in the hospital with a lung infection, after that they put her on oxygen so when she got back home she had to drag her little tank around everywhere she went.

My home, at that time, was in Burbank, CA where I worked in the transportation department of Warner Brother’s Studio. I had been there 19 years and had an opportunity for early retirement after 20 years, since I would be 55 years old. My son, Ryan, was 25 years old, still living at home, between jobs but working part time as an extra in T.V. and movies. We were all suffering through a writer’s strike and the job situation and economy were fast going south.

Me in the garden
And that’s what happened. One day the thought hit me to ask my son if he would go to Oregon for a year and help out my parents. Before I ran this by mom and dad, I felt I should “try to convince” Ryan how important this was - I knew he would say “no way.”  That night when I mentioned it to him. I was surprised when his face brightened, he sat up straighter and actually got excited. He didn’t even need to think about it. Wow.  I really didn’t know my son. He was close to his friends and L.A. lifestyle and I never imagined he might want to leave all that. Plus, he would be biting off a lot to take care of ailing grandparents, who he had met maybe six times since he was five years old.

Mom and Ryan

The next day my mom told me Social Services wanted to talk to her. They were concerned she wouldn’t be able to take care of herself. They wanted to set an appointment. There was my mom, driving to see my dad every day with her mobile oxygen tank. It was tiring her out, no doubt. She thought they were being helpful but I don’t always trust government agencies and I had heard horror stories of elderly abuse, drugs, setting up guardians, taking their money, selling their home and personal belongings, putting them in a home - you get the picture.  I told my mom not to meet with them. I said, “Tell them your grandson’s coming to stay for a while and help out. My parents were so excited and my dad even offered to pay Ryan for his help (money was always king in my household). 


In two days Ryan had his one-way ticket and was gone to Oregon. Over the next weeks my dad’s health deteriorated. Soon I bought a plane ticket because I felt I needed to be there at his side. I took a week’s vacation and was so grateful I did because my dad died midnight of the morning I was scheduled to fly back home. He was just a few days past his 80th birthday. He had always said he wanted to live to be 80. I thought, “Be careful what you wish for.”

A lot took place in that week before my dad died that brought me to a place of peace with regards to personal issues that I hadn’t faced and held onto all my life. In the end I was left with renewed love and closeness - cherished loving memories of self-sacrifice, knowing I helped my father in his time of need, knowing I made amends.  It’s amazing how quickly people can change in the face of hardships and emotional trauma. How viewpoints can shift and minds once hard and set can soften. Hearts can do the same. 


Mom and Dad
I stayed for another week on my bereavement leave from work and reconnected with family and friends. My dad had set up his entire funeral in advance and paid for everything. I can’t put enough emphasis on how important that was to his loved ones left behind to not have to make those kinds of decisions. And we knew everything was as he wanted it. The only things we had to select were the clothes he would wear and the day of the funeral.

I had lived away from my family since I was 18, always anxious to leave, just get away, sometimes angry, and for the first time in my life when I flew back to L.A. I felt like I was not coming home. I wanted and needed to stay in Oregon near my mom and son.  That’s where I now belonged. 

As I watched the brilliant sunset from the plane’s window I cried and thought of the song my dad had selected to be played at his funeral - It was about, somewhere over the sunset, that’s where he would be going. An old song from his era I had never heard. I stared out the plane window toward the sunset knowing he must be there somewhere and aware of me watching. I said goodbye and promised to take care of mother.

The next year I called “home” every day. I began wrapping up the loose ends, selling all my belongings on Craigslist, saving my money and getting rid of useless accumulated crap. It felt good and as the process continued I began to feel free and unencumbered. I flew home over Christmas, helped paint the living room, sorted through belongings with mom and knew this was where I belonged. 

Over that year I helped my mom work with her health issues - she in Oregon me in California.  I helped her buy an air filtration system. Had her take out the carpets and put in oak floors. Told her to get rid of dust traps that weren’t helping her lung condition. We spoke of diet and nutrition, not running the furnace but finding another heat source. She was making changes. 

A person has to have a reason to live, something to look forward to, in order to survive. I wanted my mother to survive. I tried to get her interested in her genealogy again because she had set it aside and it was her favorite past time.

Ryan helped her every step of the way and it was an invaluable lesson in responsibility.  I was so proud of him. I know many young adults would not do what he did. After we were sure my mom could manage better, she had cut down on the oxygen, Ryan went looking for a job and got the first one he applied for. One day when we were talking on the phone he said, “I’m not coming back to L.A.  I’ve discovered my personality is more suited to Oregon.” Hearing that was like a ray of light in my world.


Mom with her brothers and their wives

I left L.A. July 1, 2009 to drive to Portland, Oregon with my friend Mark. He had helped me paint my apartment, clean, pack and finally drive there in one day. I was home. I moved back into my old bedroom (odd) and for the first time in 30 years I was living in someone else’s home - I had lived here throughout my high school years - but it in no way represented me.  It was my mother’s home and I soon found out we lived on opposite ends of the equator when it came to how we did things. But I was ready to step up to the plate.  I knew, no matter what lay ahead, I was doing the right thing.


Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Mariah's Miracle


Story by Lorita OLeary

(This story was originally written in 2010)

Mariah
Mariah Evans, one of the triplets born to my niece Melanie and her husband Mike Evans in Virginia, turned nine this April along with her brother Ethan and sister Savannah. Mariah was the largest but eventually the weakest of the triplets. Because of a prolapsed umbilical cord during pregnancy and possibly labor, and attorneys belief that there was negligent prenatal care while Melanie was hospitalized, Ethan and Mariah were born with Cerebral Palsy. 

Melanie said it started “with the fact that I had only one ultrasound for monitoring the entire 4 weeks I was in the hospital in preterm labor and ending with the fact that Savannah was the only one of the three who received oxygen at birth, and she is the only one not affected [with Cerebral Palsy].”  Mariah suffered severe symptoms and had more problems than her brother Ethan. In her early days Mariah spent much of her time in the hospital and had several operations. Doctors told Melanie and Mike she would never walk or talk.

Triplets - Ethan, Savannah, Mariah
Her triplet sister Savannah was normal in every way and a bundle of energy. She looked just like her mother did when she was her age. Her brother Ethan who was also born with Palsy could now talk in whole sentences, hold his head up and will possibly walk one day. He’s a very smart little guy with a high IQ and gets around in a motorized wheel chair.

Mariah & Ethan
Ethan
Mariah could not hold her head up or move around like her siblings although she is very alert and understands all that is said. The Palsy seemed to affect her muscles most. What is evident is her happy and lovable spirit in spite of her handicaps. Since getting on Facebook my mom and I have come to realize how many people Mariah has touched.

When Mariah was around two-years-old the whole family, including my sister-in-law Wilda and her entire family except her oldest daughter Crystal, up and moved to Savannah Tennessee where they bought a twenty acre farm. The property was inexpensive and had a large house, a duplex and a trailer house included. Mike’s parents also moved there from Virginia and they all shared the property. After they got there they built Wilda a three bedroom pre-fabricated house with an attached porch on a section of the property.  

While there, Mariah always had nurses to help her and she had physical therapy to exercise her muscles daily. Her parents eventually got her a special wheelchair as she got older that helped to hold up her head. She loved her wheelchair as she could now sit up and see what was going on around her. It allowed her to be more involved with the family. From that point she blossomed. Mike and Melanie had two other children before the triplets – Jeremy who is a couple of years older and Andrew who was ten years older.  All the children loved Mariah and helped her in any way they could. 

Savannah, Ethan, Mariah with older brothers Andrew & Jeremy

After several years Melanie and Mike decided they wanted to move back to Virginia. They prayed about the move because it would disrupt all their lives as they were quite established now in Tennessee. They had not sold their previous house in Virginia but had rented it out.  One day shortly after they had decided they were going to move in October they got a call from their tenants telling them they were moving and would be out on October first. Melanie and Mike hadn’t even told them about their plans so it was obvious to them that God had answered their prayers.

At the Beach

Now, moved back into their home in Virginia which they always loved, Melanie had to make new arrangements for the triplet’s care. Melanie’s older brother Scott had come back to Virginia with them and moved into the bungalow on their property. Melanie found out she could get government subsidy for the triplet’s care so she could now pay Scott to help out. Eventually her sister Crystalee, who is a trained caregiver, offered to help also and did so until she had two children of her own.  But it has always been a family endeavor based on a strong faith in God. That family also extends out into the community now since Mike sometimes takes the pastor’s place in his absence. Because of this they have many supportive friends from their church.
Mike & Melanie with the gang

One day I was looking at Facebook, where we can keep in touch with the whole family daily, and Melanie had a short video clip of Mariah walking. We were so excited we had to turn that video on to see what was happening.  Soon we saw Mariah taking baby steps with the help of her mom Melanie. We could hear her squeals of delight as she put one foot in front of the other, a big smile on her face, as the rest of the family cheered her on. Mariah looked so determined and proud. Mike held the camera, giving words of encouragement as Melanie moved back and walked Mariah toward the camera again.  One of the most moving moments of this brief video was when her sister Savannah briefly appeared on the screen as a blur of excitement pushing Melanie and Mariah back to their starting point so they could walk toward the camera for a third time. You couldn’t see Savannah’s face but you could tell how thrilled she was because of her sister’s accomplishment. 

So, that made two blessings we experienced that day – the first because we were able to see this at all across all those miles, the second because everyone was so happy to witness what we would never have expected – Mariah walking. In the past we wouldn’t have been able to share this event on the same evening as the rest of the family –  Mariah's miracle brought to us by modern conveniences.

The triplets just celebrated their 9th birthday

Mariah "WALKING" tonight!! Please excuse my yelling, but needless to say she made me one proud enthusiastic mommy! Hahaha! Thanks for watching! (click the link on "Walking" to see it)




Wednesday, February 20, 2013

More Than Coincidence

Story by Lorita O'Leary & Wilda Lahmann


Randy with three of his children - Jon, Alissa & Crystalee


My husband, Randy, shook me awake, It must have been 2:00 A.M. He was hunched over, holding a hand to his chest. “Wilda, I need to get to the hospital,” he said, gasping. “Can’t breathe.”

“I’ll call 911,” I said, jumping out of bed.

“No time,” he gasped again. “Drive me. Now.”

I helped him up and got him in our van. Randy slumped against the passenger-side door. Fifteen miles to the hospital. Too far, I thought. We’re not going to make it. Send help, Lord.

We tore out of the driveway, engine roaring in the still night air. Could Randy hold on? About a mile down the road, at the bottom of a hill, I saw something in the street. We’re my eyes playing tricks on me? No, it was real. An ambulance!

“Look, Randy!” I shouted. A paramedic stood outside the vehicle. Like he was waiting for us. How did he know?

I slammed on the brakes, leaped out of the van and ran over to the ambulance, screaming for help. The paramedic and his partner went right to work. “Possible cardiac,” one said. They strapped an oxygen mask onto Randy and started treatment. Then they loaded him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, unconscious. “Follow us,” one of them told me.

The next three days were touch-and-go. I never left Randy’s bedside, praying he’d wake up and be okay. Finally, he did. “What happened?” he asked.

“You mean you don’t remember?”

“Nothing after the ambulance,” he said.

“You had a massive heart attack. The EMTs said another minute or two and...” I squeezed his hand tight.

“You called them?” Randy asked.

“No,” I told him. “They received a report of a car crash at that intersection. They even called in to make sure that they were at the right location. They were. And then we came along seconds later.”

Fifteen miles on empty roads in the middle of the night. Randy’s heart attack would have been fatal if those paramedics hadn’t been there. I’d say they were in the perfect location.

Wilda & Randy

This story was published in Guidepost Aug 2005 issue