Martin Frank Jones - His Blog

 His Words...His Blog

Family Memoirs by Martin Jones

HOPPING ON THE MEDIA TRAIN     Posted on August 26, 2012 by Martin Jones

Over nearly 87 years of living, I have had many ideas of how people and I should live. Personally, I have made many mistakes that I don’t like to think about. I wish foresight was as effective has hindsight. For over thirty years now I have had a computer and have saved many of my thoughts as documents on my computer. Some I sent to the editor, and had several things published. Many of course were rejected.

I have opened the blog at the urging of some of my grandchildren. They are really into Facebook so I will share most of my blogs on Facebook. Stay tuned.

Granddad’s Roots part 1   Posted on September 5, 2012 by Martin Jones

ANCESTRY
I know that my great, great grandfather Martin Jones was born in 1816. He died at a relative young age. I know that he was married to Keziah Busby, and I know that they had one son named Martin E.B. Jones. Somewhere along the line I learned that they were also raising another boy, adopted or otherwise, named Charles McCloud. I have no idea what relation the boy was to them. Evidently Martin E.B., my Great Grandfather considered him as his brother.

Getting to this point in trying to trace my roots required putting pieces of the puzzle together. Man how I wish that when my grandfather was alive I had gotten him to relate to me his roots and I had put them down. I did not get to know my great grandfather. As a very young child I remember one thing about him. My grandfather lived on a sandy land farm north of Thalia, Foard County, Texas. As far back as I can remember there was a whole nest full of Joneses living in and around Thalia. It seems that a bunch of them had gathered at the farm one day. A very traumatic experience causes me to remember it. I could not have been more than three or four years old. There was a huge rooster around and he attacked me. Looking back now I am glad that it happened. My great grandfather got that overgrown bird off me. Had it not been for this attack I would not have ever been able to say that I remember my great grandfather. It is the only thing I remember about him. I can even almost see him in my mind.