McNeal Blog

Percival Albert McNeill was born in February 3, 1900 to James McNeill and Frances Biddescombe in New Brunswick, Canada.  Immigrants often changed their names and I’m not sure when Grandpa Percy changed his name to an Americanized spelling, Uncle Ed said it was when he moved from Canada to Maine.  Aunt Pat said that there were two stories passed about as to how his marriage to Nellie Rae Philbrick came about.  One story was that Grandma was pregnant and “had” to get married.  Another was that Grandpa was a “gold digger” and thought that he would get the farm and wealth of her father.  Aunt Pat liked to believe the later but I think she may have been mistaken.

Percy and Nellie were married in 1922, I haven’t found the date yet.  My father, Walter Philbrick McNeal, was born February 23, 1923.  Leo Francis McNeal was born May 30, 1927.  Edward Elias McNeal was born August 3, 1930 and finally a little girl, Patricia Mae McNeal on March 17, 1934.

Grandma had a tough married life.  My Grandpa was an alcoholic and came home drunk to beat her.  When my father was old enough to stand in the way, he became the protector in the family.  Aunt Pat did not know if Grandpa ever hit any of the boys but she thanked God that he never abused her in any way.  “Walter P. always stood between Dad and Mom.  He was our protector.  After he went on his own, I think Ed took over.  He would have sore knuckles once in a great while.  I asked him about it.  His reply was ‘you don’t want to know!’”

Grandpa was a good provider thankfully.  He worked for 50 cents a day and sometimes also worked on his father-in-law’s farm for food.  They lived in a small house on Great-Grandpa’s farm then moved to a duplex or two-family home in town so that the boys could go to High School.  Later they moved to a farm house on the Reed Brothers Farm, the people that Grandpa worked for.  There was no electricity on the farm.  Grandma washed the laundry by hand.  Aunt Pat ironed with irons heated on the stove.  The hot water was heated by the stove or by a tank on the side or back of the stove.  They did school work by kerosene lamp.

They moved to their own home, a big farm house, and were finally allowed to have pets.  Aunt Pat loved her mangy white cat and Grandma loved the dogs.  There was not much money but Grandma always made sure they had food to eat.  She drove the boys to school with the wagon pulled by two horses.  In the winter, the wagon turned into a big sled.  Grandma wanted Aunt Pat to be a lady.  She would put books on her head and make her walk without dropping them.  Grandma taught her to speak correctly and clearly and would help her learn to set the dinner table and dress properly.

Grandma loved gospel and classical music, but would listen to any music.  She could not sing well, but loved music.  Grandma was a Methodist and believed that her children should find their own religion, which is why Walter, Leo, Ed, and Pat were all so diversified.  Grandma told Aunt Pat that religion is in the heart and worshipping is in the soul, so we should listen to our hearts and find what will make our soul happy.

Just about a year ago, our dear Aunt Pat went to be with Jesus.  Larry and I traveled to Massechusetts to say farewell, visit with Aunt Pat’s good friends Deb and Joni, and picked up a few items from her apartment to bring back to Michigan.  One of the most treasured items is a journal or letter of sorts.  I’d like to share it with family and friends a piece at a time…

Part One

“Dear Sue (niece & grandaughter),

Your Grandmother Nellie Rae Philbrick McNeal was born December 7th, 1897.  She was the eldest of four – Percy Philbrick, Elsie and Harold.  Elsie is better known as Lassie and had no children.  Harold had one and Percy had three by his first marriage (this is where “Sis” came in – Lil Schumate) then he had eight with his second wife.

Mom had 9 or 11 years (I’m not sure which and there is no one to check with) before her mother was killed in a horrific accident.  Mom’s mother was driving horse & buggy with her sister and youngest son, Harold.  There was a car standing on the side of the road that tried to go by and spooked the horse.  Cars were brand new and noisy and shaky then.  The buggy tipped over and threw all the occupants out.  Poor Myrtle (your great grandmother) had wound the reins around her wrists because it was a very spirited horse.  She was very small (5 ft, 100 lbs) so in wrapping the reins around her writs, gave her better leverage, but when the horse bolted, she couldn’t release herself from the horse even after she knew everyone else was out of the wagon/buggy.  The wheel of the wagon repeatedly hit her as she was dragged along the ground.

She was hospitalized for a month finally passed away.  They were keeping her alive for the sake of her baby as she was six months pregnant.  They were buried together in the same casket.

This left Mom devastated and the oldest.  She had to quit school and take over as mother of the house.  She did this for a number of years even after her father remarried.  Her father, your great grandfather was Elias E Philbrick of Easton, ME.  He then married Lillian Rose Dow.

Mom, needless to say, was kind of forced into being an excellent cook, a fair seamstress, and a self taught educated woman.  Her sister, Lassie, went to normal school, which at that time was a school to go to after high school to become a teacher.  Therefore, Mom had the books to educate herself.”

O holy God, You reign in power and majesty over all things.  You rule in sovereignty and perfect authority over all the affairs of our lives.  You call out and lift up those who You desire to rule over us, and You enable and empower them to serve at Your pleasure.  We put our trust in You to use the President-Elect—and every person chosen on November 4—to serve Your great and high purposes for our nation.  Grant that we may surround him and every leader with our support and faithful prayers.   Amen.

Our youngest son called at 8 bells this morning (Monday, Nov. 1) from Banor, Maine.  He was at an airport with 3 or 400 of his fellow soldiers.  They are on their way from the armpit of the world known to some as Iraq, to their home base, Fort Campbell, Kentucky.  That was a long 14 months for these young folks and it was our son Jeremy’s second tour.  I can switch gears now, to worrying about whether there is fog outside that airport like there is here to worrying about whether he will be hurt and too far away for me to get to him.  I picture a horde of young people in desert camo striding from the airplane to a bank of phones to call their loved ones.

Citizens of Bangor, Maine, wake up.  Don’t you know what is happening at your airport?  This dumb Iraq thing goes on and on and our young people go to and from that place with little fanfare now.  The airport is quiet, Jeremy tells me.  Once when he went through Atlanta, Georgia, there was a group of people meeting and greeting the soldiers.  They gave the soldiers beany-baby soldier bears.  It is our grand-daughter Grace’s favorite thing when she visits.

This will be a very thankful Thanksgiving.  After speaking with Jeremy, I made a cell call to my husband (It is long distance and he is in “My Circle”).  The only place we get good reception is in the back yard on the picnic table.  As I stepped out the back door, five of the fuzziest deer scattered.  It could be a cold winter.  Not every day contains good news and beautiful scenes.  I hope your day is blessed.  Loving everyone for the moment, Jan.

Hey everybody.  As per request, I’ve set up the official McNeal Family Blog.  This blog can be used to share old stories, new stories, pictures, recipes, or it can be used for plain old communications about trips or gatherings or whatever.  The sky is the limit (sort of).

I have setup open enrollment for users for now, and I will probably leave it that way for the next week or two, however I will have to close it in the near future so we don’t get anybody spamming the blog.  If you want to leave a comment, feel free, you don’t need an account here to do so.  Your comment may not show up right away the first time you comment, please be patient it may take a day or two.  After the first time, your comment is approved, it should show immediately the next time you comment. I encourage you to comment this here post to get that out of the way now.

If you would like to contribute to the blog, you will need a login.  You can register for a username here.  It will automatically assign you a password, which will be random and hard to remember, but once you’ve logged in you can find the form to change your password off to the upper right under “Profile”, you can change your name and email there too.