Jackson County, Illinois
By Lester Glodfelty
It was published in the Elkville Journal Friday, Dec. 30, 1949 In is titled Reminiscence and was written by Lester Glodfelty. (obviously a form of Glotfelty)
The writer of the poem below was Lester Glodfelty of Patterson California. He was born and raised in Elk Twp. He is the son of the late Henry and Ellen Glodfelty, pioneer Elk Twp. residents. The family home was south of Dowell where the couple raised a large family. Mr. Glodfelty settled in California before the first World War. During the conflict he did his part and after it was over, went back to Patterson where he operates a very successful farm. Two sisters of Mr. Glodfelty reside in Jackson Co., Mrs. H. E. Allen of rural Carbondale and Mrs. P. H. Cochran of rural Elkville. Another sister is Mrs. Roland Perry of near Woodriver, IL. Brothers are Rev. P. R. Glodfelty of Lebanon, IL, Rev. John Glodfelty, Greenville, IL; Tyner Glodfelty of Patterson, CA and Edward Glodfelty of Ohio.
Why is it that Christmas is bound with the past
With the yesterday and the long ago
With people and places where our lot was cast
With lands and folks in memory's glow?
What are the bounds of the mythical place
Where Christmas lives in mind and heart
Is it some paradise where lived a race
Of supermen, a race apart?
It's just the place where I was born
A prairie, a creek, woods and field
With names like Six Mile, and Muddy, here corn
Grew tall, and forest its treasures yield.
Where catfish and crawfish, and muskrats and coon
Were a boy's fair game along the stream
Where hunting and skating make a merry tune
In the warp and woof of a boyhood dream.
Where Burroughs and Heiples were a long ways off
And Vegennes or Du Quoin were the jomping off place
And the geograpahy's open page was enough
To rouse the wonder at the size of space.
Mulkeytown - I never was there,
Nor Ava, nor Bush nor Campbell Hill
I was never in Anna or Cobden Fair
And across Little Muddy is a mystery still.
So Christmas land is a pin point spot
Bounded by Elkville and the county line
By the Illinois Central and a lot
Of peoples' homes, both poor and fine.
There's names like Oliver, and Nausley , and Hayes
To people the land I am thinking about
And Burroughs and Valerius, and Davis, and the Grays
And Siefert, and Bowlin and others no doubt.
Like Latty, and House, and Burbank, and Crews
And Casleton, Bechtlofft, Kimmel and Swain,
And Schwartz, and Knoff and Leming and Hughes,
And others that crowd to my memory again.
And the Martins, the Hartsocks, and Robinsons,
To be with was a great lark,
And from the Burns' and Adkins' clans
My memory cannot part.
So Christmas is bound by places and folks
But the heart of that land is the spot we called home.
Where Henry and Ellen did the best in their means
To make Christmas for others as well as their own.
Where Mary, and May, and Abram and Phil
And Hattie and Lucy grew up through their teens
And John and Tyner and Edward and Bill
Crowded George away from his bacon and greens.
There was work to be done and a goal to be won
And a story to read as we sat by the fire
A backbone built for a job to be done
And a clean life lived a boy to inspire.
You all were there and all knew it well
And all have a different view of the place
Yet when Christmas tales you have to tell
These very same bounds you probably trace.
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