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Helen Louise Tryon (1876-1971)

Helen (Tryon) Bowditch was born on 9 February 1876 in Mahomet, Illinois, the daughter of Harvey Seth Tryon and Annie Elizabeth Rudolph. She married Frederick Darlington Bowditch on 12 August 1896, and died on 7 December 1971 at age 95.

Known as "The Little Grandma" by her great grandchildren, she was a minister's daughter who grew up in a strict household, but nonetheless remembered her childhood as "happy and serene within a home filled with love and contentment." Over the years she experienced many joys, and sorrows, too. Many of these were captured in her poems, written shortly after she turned 80 years old in 1956.

The poems presented here were included in a genealogy compiled by her grandson Frederick Tryon Bowditch in 1964, titled The Bowditch Family of Salem, Massachusetts - North Carolina Branch 1524-1964 . This book also includes accounts she wrote about her life growing up "in a Methodist Parsonage," and her married life in Urbana, Illinois.

When I Was Only Four

How clearly I remember
When I was only four,
Of taking a ride one summer day,
Of three or four miles, or more.

The ride was in a buggy,
Drawn by Nellie, our mare.
As we jogged along o'er the country road,
I knew neither worry nor care.

Papa, Mama, and Willie
Sat on the buggy seat.
While I sat, on a little red chair,
Down below, at their feet.

This might have been a nice place to sit,
If Nellie had not switched her tail
At the troublesome flies that annoyed her,
By stinging her sides, without fail.

But I soon learned this menace to dodge,
And by watching and ducking my head,
Avoided the switching of her tail,
While wishing all flies were dead.

Papa was a preacher
We were invited out to tea,
By a prominent member of the church,
Whom Papa called, a Trustee.

No one was in a hurry,
All were happy and gay.
Mama told stories - Papa a joke,
As we trotted along on our way.

Once we stopped by the roadside,
So I could pick a wild rose.
Its beauty and fragrance charmed me,
As I climbed the bank, on my toes.

Again, we stopped by a little brook,
That Nellie might rest, a wee.
And, watched the water go babbling by
On its journey down to the sea.

Thank God for a happy childhood,
For simple joys I would meet.
When time was taken for pleasure,
That made living, joyous and sweet.

I don't remember our hostess,
And I don't remember the tea.
But the memory of that happy day,
Still remains with me.

Now I'm Six

Now I'm six, and must go to School,
Must mind the teacher, and keep the rule.
Must learn to read, and must learn to spell,
Must learn to do my lessons well.

Must learn to write, and must learn to add,
Must learn to tell the good from the bad.
Must learn with other girls and boys
To romp and play with the games and toys.

Must learn to give, and must learn to take,
Must keep alert, and wide awake.
There is so much I do not know,
It seems I have been very slow.

So, I must study hard and learn,
So I'll be promoted another term.
I'm glad I'm six, and can go to school,
For I wouldn't want to grow up, a fool.

Cousins

It seems but a short time ago,
Our cousins came to stay.
For their Mama went to Heaven,
And this seemed the better way.

Five children in the parsonage,
The Ladies' Aid groaned, "Alas.
We fear they'll harm the parsonage
And we know they'll kill the grass."

They told us not to play croquet,
For that would spoil the lawn
That they had worked so hard to seed,
And watched each early morn.

Five children in the parsonage,
A happy, cheery clan,
From seven to eleven,
Were their ages, to a man.

Willie was the eldest,
A serious, quiet lad.
He was neither very good,
Nor was he, very bad.

Then came Cousin Phebe,
So fair of form and face.
She looked just like an angel
Each movement full of grace.

Then came Alice, plump and gay,
So full of pranks and fun.
She cheered the very darkest day,
And kept us on the run.

Then came Helen, and that was me,
A rather thoughtful child.
Not one to lead, or one to rule
Of temper - meek and mild.

The youngest one was Preston,
Ever gentle, kind and frail.
We always had to watch and see
He went slowly on the trail.

Five children in the parsonage
Made so much work to do,
That Mama was oft distracted,
And this is sure and true.

Of course, we children all helped out,
By doing all we could.
We dried the dishes, made the beds,
And carried in the wood.

The boys fed Nellie in her stall,
And gathered up the eggs.
And all ran errands here and there
Upon our little legs.

We went to church and Sunday School,
And rode in our new surrey.
The fringe went rippling round the top
With Nellie in a hurry.

Uncle Jimmie used to come
To see us from the city.
He'd bring a world of goodies,
And was always gay and witty.

We used to play at Hide and Seek,
We used to play at checkers,
We sometimes slept, three in a bed,
But wished for double deckers.

Alas I those happy days passed by,
And soon our group was broken.
For Phebe left us, one sad day,
Without a sign or token.

In two years Alice followed her,
To join the angel choir.
No more they joined our family
As we gathered 'round the fire.

Preston grew to man's estate,
And chose a charming wife,
Who lived with him for many years,
And made his, a happy life.

They had one daughter and two sons,
To cheer them on their way.
I dearly loved our Preston,
And do, this very day.

Sweet Sixteen

Now I'm sixteen, and what do you know,
I've got the nicest boy for a beau.
He takes me here, and he takes me there.
Last Thursday, he took me to the fair.

He takes me to church on Sunday night,
To hear the preacher tell what is right.
I hold his hat, he does what he can,
To keep me cool with my new feather fan.

He takes me to picnics, to parties, to plays,
Oh, we have the happiest kind of days.
I'm now a young lady, and life's all aglow
I'm glad I'm sixteen, and have such a nice beau.

My Wedding Day

August 12th, 1896,
That was my wedding day,
In the morning, skies were overcast,
And rain came down our way.

But by noon, the clouds were lifted,
And every shrub and tree,
Glistened and shone with the rain drops,
An omen, good to me.

I married a man of sterling worth,
Honorable, kind and true,
One that I loved with all my heart,
As every good wife should do.

We moved to Urbana, where he taught school,
Algebra, Geometry, and use of the slide rule.
We had a loving, happy life,
Never much money, but without any strife.

Our Boys

October 3rd, 1897,
To us was born this day,
Our dearly beloved first born son,
Who came to us to stay.

No words can tell our happiness,
No words express the joy,
That came to us when first we saw
This tiny baby boy.

We named him for his Father,
So we could call him "Fred",
And by his tiny fingers,
We both were surely led.

Next year, along came Russell,
A lovely babe, and bright,
With laughing eyes, and charming ways,
He was ever our delight.

In three years we had Laurie,
To join our happy band.
We were the happiest family,
To be found in all the land.

Fred and Russell and Lawrence,
Three little, bright-eyed boys.
Could any one have told us
Life held for us such joys!

To watch their minds develop,
To see their bodies grow,
To care for them - to share with them,
Brought to our lives, a glow.

Soon Fred was old enough for school,
Russell soon following after.
Laurie left at home with me,
To share my joys and laughter.

We thought we had our family,
Felt sure there'd be no more,
But didn't know God's purpose,
Or what He had in store.

For February 22nd was the day
Another baby came with us to stay.
He brought much joy and gladness,
For he had a place to fill.
We praised God for his corning
As we ever praise Him still.

The boys would call him Robert,
So we could call him "Bob".
They shared with him and loved him,
Their own pleasures they would rob.

Sick Child

I sat beside my baby
At an early hour in the morn,
Watching his labored breathing,
Feeling most sad and forlorn.

'Twas Russell, our darling baby,
Who lay so quiet and still.
Would we have to lose our baby?
Can it really be, that we will?

For days we had fought the battle,
For days we had lived in fear.
Fear, that 'twould be but moments
'Till he'd be no longer here.

The doctor said upon leaving
Late in the afternoon
"I fear he may die before morning,
I'm sure that will not be too soon."

So I sat beside my baby,
Waiting for him to die,
His father watching with me,
If needed, he were nearby.

We prayed to our Father in Heaven
To spare our baby so fair,
To heal his lungs, and to make him
As gay and as happy as air.

"Our loving Father in Heaven
We pray, if it be They will,
To restore to health our baby,
Who is now, so quiet and still."

We hear from the crib a movement,
We hear from the crib, a call:
"Mama, a dink of water,
I'se thirsty", and that is all.

How gladly we brought the water,
How gladly we watched him drink.
We felt he had passed the crisis,
But what would the doctor think?

The doctor said in the morning
When he came at break of day,
"Your baby will soon recover,
That I can truly say."

Christmas

At Christmas times my thoughts return
To the days of long ago,
When I was young and carefree,
And life was all aglow.

I think of Home and Husband,
So patient, kind and true.
I think of precious little boys,
No less than four, would do.

They used to gather 'round my knee,
And listen to the joys
Of Santa Claus upon the roof
With his pack crammed full of toys.

They heard the jingle of the bells
On the snowy starlit sky,
And I'm sure they heard the reindeer
As they went dashing by.

And, then I told them of the birth
Of the little baby King,
And how, into this weary world
His Glory, He did bring.

The wonder in their boyish eyes
Still remains with me,
As the mystic charm of Christmas
They could so plainly see.

Now they are grown to man's estate,
And are scattered far and wide,
But in memories that remain with me,
They're still standing by me side.

So, thanks to God for memories
Of happy, happy days,
Tho' my hair is white, and my step is slow,
These thoughts shed shining rays.

Vacation Time

Everyone is happy,
For summer time is here,
When little boys go barefoot,
And the world is full of cheer.

For study books are put away,
Since the daily school is out,
And children running past the house,
Sing, and laugh, and shout!
"No more studies, no more school,
No more teacher's tiresome rule".

At our house, all is hustle and commotion,
For we're going to the farm,
Where the days are long and sunny,
And shouting does no harm.

Papa's fixing up the car,
With spark plugs and with oil.
Must see there are no faulty tires,
And the radiator will not boil.

Mama's packing everything,
That she thinks that we may need,
And the boys are running here and there
As their inclinations lead.

Here comes Freddie with some games,
And a pair of overalls,
That he wishes placed upon the top,
So they'll be handy when we stop.

Russell comes a running
With slingshot and water wings,
A ball and bat, and popgun,
And a lot of other things.

Laurie brings his model builder,
His fishing rod and hook,
For he wants to spend all summer
Just fishing in the brook.

What's the matter with the baby?
What is he crying for?
Why didn't you boys watch him?
He's caught his finger in the door.

Papa's finished with the car,
We should be on our way.
But first he checks on everything,
And thus, we hear him say-

"Have we turned off gas and water ?
Are the windows all shut tight?
Have milk and laundry bills been paid?
Have we turned off every light?
Have we cared for this?
Have we cared for that?
Have you packed my old coat?
Have you packed my old hat?
Have you got a lunch ready,
And a place to leave the cat?"

Hurly burly, rush and hurry.
Is it really worth the while?
Can we really get all ready,
And continue yet, to smile?

At last, we're packed, and all are ready
To find our places in the car
When we find our baby missing,
Has he run off? If so, how far?

Papa looks here, the boys look there,
While I go down the street,
Looking this way, looking that way,
Asking all I meet.

Freddie finds him in the bedroom
Fast asleep upon the floor.
We lift him gently in our arms,
And start for the car, once more.

Oh look, here comes a neighbor,
To bid us all goodbye.
She brings us gingerbread for lunch,
And a lovely apple pie.

At last, we're gone, and on our way,
To spend the summer days
On our dear, old farm in Michigan,
Which deserves the highest praise,

0' the sunny days, and the starry nights,
And the fields of golden grain!
And the rows and rows of corn and beans,
And the quiet fall of rain.

The pretty woods in which to roam,
The brook where Laurie fishes.
0, could we live them o'er again,
'Twould answer all my wishes.

For the fragrance of the clover fields,
The lowing of the cattle,
Is so much better than the town,
With all its noise and rattle.

We come back home when school begins,
With cheeks so brown and ruddy,
All ready for the winter's work
Of working, play and study.

Typhoid

Typhoid fever's a terrible thing
When it strikes a precious boy,
And causes him to become so weak,
That life is no longer a joy.

When Fred was only fourteen,
With typhoid he weakly lay,
For days and days, and weeks and weeks,
The fever had its way.

O' the long, long days,
And the long, long nights
As beside his bed we sat,
Eager to help in any way,
But this wouldn't help, nor that.

The doctor stopped in every day,
But 'twas little he could do,
For the fever had to run its course,
In those days, that was true.

And, so we saw our happy boy,
So ruddy, plump and gay,
Reduced into an invalid,
Growing weaker, day by day.

But, finally it ran its course,
As fevers often will,
And slowly he came back to health,
With strength, and life and will.

So, once again, a child was saved,
Who nearly slipped away.
We raised our hearts in thankfulness,
When we knew that he would stay.

Our Loss

We had to lose the father,
We had to give him up,
We had to bow with heavy hearts,
And drink the bitter cup.

He never lived to see his sons
Come into man's estate.
He never saw the work they did,
Nor the honors each did rate.

He never saw their lovely wives,
Nor the children that were theirs,
He never saw their happy homes,
And he never knew their cares,

But this we know, in Heaven above,
He surely, surely knows,
That those he cherished here below,
Are an honor to his love.

I'm thankful he was my husband
For twenty-four years, no more
And Father of my children
Whose life they could adore.

His life we can be proud of,
For it held no spot nor stain
And, we look forward to the day,
When we shall meet again.

Daughters-in-Love

I never borned a daughter,
Though I often longed for one,
But every time a baby came,
It always was a son.

So, I had to wait 'till they were grown,
And picked them out for me.
They surely did a dandy job,
As any one can see.

Fred chose lovely Eleanor
To be his cherished bride,
Serene and cairn and capable,
She's traveled by his side.

For Russell, there was no one,
Would do for him, but Mae,
Beautiful and gifted,
In every kind of way.

Laurie chose Ramola,
A charming, dancing sprite,
To see her was to love her,
For you knew she was all right.

For Robert was a lovely Blonde,
With eyes of Heavenly blue,
One had but to look at Bess,
To know she would be true.

These girls have ever been to me,
Each and every one,
As loving as any daughter,
Could have ever done.

And so, I have my daughters,
And I love each of them well.
How much I love them I can't say,
For I haven't words to tell.

Not daughters, but daughters-in-law, you say!
Ah, no! For 'tis written above -
That these girls are really daughters
Yes, they're daughters-in-love

Grandchildren

We truly love our children,
For to us, they are the best,
The loveliest and the brightest,
As we'd prove in any test.

We teach them, and we train them,
We shower them with our love,
We spank them, and caress them,
Pray blessings from above.

Yes, we truly love our children,
But there's nothing can compare
With the grandchildren that come later
For they bring us, pleasures rare.

For we do not have to train them,
Nor teach them to be good,
We only have to love them,
As all grandparents should.

I have been truly blessed,
For I have all of nine,
Five girls - four boys
Make up a group that's fine.

First, came grandson Robert,
With Frederick close behind.
Then Pat and Helen and David,
Their places they did find.

Next Anne and Jay and Adrienne,
With Mary Laing, the last,
All found a place within my heart
Where I can hold them fast.

They tell me I am growing old,
And it may be that I am,
But I'll live within my grandchildren,
I'll just show you that I can.

Baby Grands

Now come the precious baby Grands,
I soon will have eleven,
The precious little darlings
Seem a little bit of Heaven.

Robert, David, Karalyn, Steve,
Kathy, Didi, and Mary Ann,
Patty, Jeffry, and Jane Ellen,
Show me better, if you can.

For each is perfect, sweet and bright,
And I offer up a prayer,
That God may watch and guide them,
And be with them, everywhere.

Old Age

They tell me I am growing old,
And it must be that it's true
For now that I am eighty,
There seems nothing else to do.

It may be that I'm growing old,
But I don't feel that way,
For health and happiness are mine,
And my heart is glad and gay.

For I still love the sunrise,
As it streams across, the lawn,
And I love to hear the song birds,
As they sing in early morn.

I love to see the raindrops,
As they glisten on the trees,
And to see the leaves in autumn,
As they rustle in the breeze.

I love to hear the children,
So happy in their play,
And watch the young folks strolling,
In the evening of the day.

I love with friends to gather,
To laugh, and talk, and dine,
With a lively game of Samba
To pass away the time.

I still like Sunday School and Church,
And Woman's Club's a joy,
I love to buy for baby,
A special kind of toy.

I love to sit at eventime,
Beside my cozy fire,
And dream of happy days gone by,
Of this, I never tire.

And then, I turn my dreams around,
To the days that lie ahead,
And vision joys and pleasures
That lie before me, spread.

No, I don't feel that I am old,
Nor my span of life most gone,
For happy memories keep my life
Tuned to a happy song.

So, I don't dread tomorrow,
For how can I be sad,
When all my life has been so good,
With very little, bad.

So, I shall go on living
With a heart that's young and gay,
Knowing God will lead me,
The balance of the way.

And when the boat shall come for me,
I'll rise and gladly go,
My hand in God's, He'll lead me
To a happier world, I know.

Sunset

I love to sit in the evening,
When the work of the day has gone by,
And watch the glorious sunset
That fills the western sky.

The rose and the purple and golden hue
Are colors no painter can catch,
For their beauty came from the Master's hand,
With coloring we cannot match.

When the sun came up in the morning,
That, too, was a glorious sight.
The earth seemed so new, so fresh, and so clean,
We felt that the world was all right.

At midday the rays were the hottest,
As they ripened the golden grain,
And caused the fruit in the orchards
To blush, as the sky after rain.

But at even, the day's work is ended,
And the sun quietly goes on its way,
Leaving behind it, a glory
That brightens the close of the day.

A glory that thrills you and brightens your heart,
Making you feel that life is worth while,
And you look forward to tomorrow
With confidence, hope and a smile.

And so we find it with life,
In youth, we start bright and gay,
Middle-life, finds us with busy hands
Hope at its highest, ambition having full sway.

But the evening of life, should be best time of all.
For at that time, our life's work is done.
Our lives have been lived to the fullest,
Our battles have been lost and won.

As the twilight of life overtakes us,
And we're nearing our own setting of sun,
May our lives leave a radiance behind us,
Reflecting a living, well done.