Tribute to Elmer Titus
The moment has come to pause for reflection on the footsteps of one who walked among us for seventy-seven years.
Born to Charles and Emma Titus "a male child". That was all it said on a birth certificate dated October 24, 1900.
This little boy began his life in a rural America, lacking the modern ways of living. He was expected as a whisp of a lad to drive a team of horses, milk his share of cows, and split the wood for his kitchen stove.
Those were happy days, skipping along the rutted roads to the Sheepskin School a mile or so away, even giving a longing look at a Milwaukee bound train, dreaming someday to be aboard to adventures beyond. Soon the family packed their belongings on the wagon and traveled a few miles to their permanent home near Newville. The neighbors welcomed the family of two girls and a boy to this farm in Milton Township.
A bit older now, with adventure in his heart, he explored Lake Koshkonong, trapping, hunting and fishing every free moment made these precious days fly by. School days called again, this time to the Rock River School which was to provide the rest of his education. It was from here he would assume his place in the working world. Tragedy marked his youthful career, watering a horse resulted in a hoof to the face, knocked to the ground unconscious, a doctor was called, but no word of comfort was spoken. The doctor said nothing could be done, but he recovered to a future full life. Many happy hours were spent exchanging work with neighbors. Though the work was hard, many hands made it go better. The wisp and whir of belts and pulleys rang loud and clear yet today, but times were changing. A car was purchased in 1918, one of those put-puts called a model T. He nearly ran the wheels off this conveyance, not just running around enjoying himself, but piling it high with farm produce and wood, neatly split, to sell to customers in Edgerton and Janesville. As nearly every story has a pretty girl, mom was no exception. At an Epworth League meeting in Janesville in 1928, a sweet Janesville girl served my dad pie and ice cream. With a smile she accepted a ride home in a new model T. As the arrived at her residence he said, If you want to see me again just write me a letter. That is exactly what happened. On February 24, 1929, Irel Hoover became Mrs. Titus, moving into the house at 209 N. Palm St. to live together there for 48 years. The depression came, agricultural prices sagged. Dad went to work at various factory jobs before starting at Chevrolet in February 1934. Mixed with problems galore two babies were born. A little girl, Marcella Jane was stillborn. A little boy, Orvin Elmer was born October 1 , 1933. Soon after my birth mom became very ill, remaining so for several years. Housekeepers came and went, but my dad was patient with everything and everyone (including me). Many times he did dishes, scrubbed and cleaned, all he could do to keep our home together. He managed, somehow, to pay taxes, interest and finally to pay for our home. He sold wood, garden produce and salvaged whatever he could to make a few extra pennies to keep our ship afloat. The great World War came. Shell production at the Oldsmobile Plant meant long hours as well as helping at Grandpa's farm. But these long hours and hard work never stopped his concern for mom and me. We went to church together and to a family group called the 50-50 class for potlucks and movies. Through all these changing times I was growing with dad's encouraging help that the future would be better for me than it was for him. Always asking me if it was my best, he was proud of his job and desired to be, most of all, a good employee. He helped me to learn my trades, bought tools and supplies so I could. No one knows the pieces and parts I consumed, only to have dad bring more. Though he didn't understand what I was doing he was proud that I did it. He would tell everyone about my accomplishments, knowing I would understand his pride in me. I graduated from high school and went to college for awhile. Soon I married, grandchildren came, and his love for each of them never showed favoritism of any kind. A gift for everyone on his birthday was his wish, then every Sunday, noon dinner with Gandmother and Gandpops, as the kids called him. We would go to Grange meetings, many happy hours at Milton Grange, cleaning the yard and hall. Dad was happy to be with the brothers and sisters doing what ever was to be done. He wanted to be where I was, most of all, and I must say, I wanted it that way too. State Grange Sessions for fourteen years found mom and dad listening to my part in the activities. Probably the greatest moment was the train trip to Syracuse, New York to the National Session of the Grange. This was the train ride he had dreamt of for so many years. So this man lived more than years. He was our life, and we were his, we parted last Sunday with dinner at our house in Afton. We had a father and son chat in my shop. This perhaps, ends this tribute, but it will never end the beautiful memory of love and care that Elmer had for his family and especially me. He was my Dad. With Love, Orvin
The moment has come to pause for reflection on the footsteps of one who walked among us for seventy-seven years.
Born to Charles and Emma Titus "a male child". That was all it said on a birth certificate dated October 24, 1900.
This little boy began his life in a rural America, lacking the modern ways of living. He was expected as a whisp of a lad to drive a team of horses, milk his share of cows, and split the wood for his kitchen stove.
Those were happy days, skipping along the rutted roads to the Sheepskin School a mile or so away, even giving a longing look at a Milwaukee bound train, dreaming someday to be aboard to adventures beyond. Soon the family packed their belongings on the wagon and traveled a few miles to their permanent home near Newville. The neighbors welcomed the family of two girls and a boy to this farm in Milton Township.
A bit older now, with adventure in his heart, he explored Lake Koshkonong, trapping, hunting and fishing every free moment made these precious days fly by. School days called again, this time to the Rock River School which was to provide the rest of his education. It was from here he would assume his place in the working world. Tragedy marked his youthful career, watering a horse resulted in a hoof to the face, knocked to the ground unconscious, a doctor was called, but no word of comfort was spoken. The doctor said nothing could be done, but he recovered to a future full life. Many happy hours were spent exchanging work with neighbors. Though the work was hard, many hands made it go better. The wisp and whir of belts and pulleys rang loud and clear yet today, but times were changing. A car was purchased in 1918, one of those put-puts called a model T. He nearly ran the wheels off this conveyance, not just running around enjoying himself, but piling it high with farm produce and wood, neatly split, to sell to customers in Edgerton and Janesville. As nearly every story has a pretty girl, mom was no exception. At an Epworth League meeting in Janesville in 1928, a sweet Janesville girl served my dad pie and ice cream. With a smile she accepted a ride home in a new model T. As the arrived at her residence he said, If you want to see me again just write me a letter. That is exactly what happened. On February 24, 1929, Irel Hoover became Mrs. Titus, moving into the house at 209 N. Palm St. to live together there for 48 years. The depression came, agricultural prices sagged. Dad went to work at various factory jobs before starting at Chevrolet in February 1934. Mixed with problems galore two babies were born. A little girl, Marcella Jane was stillborn. A little boy, Orvin Elmer was born October 1 , 1933. Soon after my birth mom became very ill, remaining so for several years. Housekeepers came and went, but my dad was patient with everything and everyone (including me). Many times he did dishes, scrubbed and cleaned, all he could do to keep our home together. He managed, somehow, to pay taxes, interest and finally to pay for our home. He sold wood, garden produce and salvaged whatever he could to make a few extra pennies to keep our ship afloat. The great World War came. Shell production at the Oldsmobile Plant meant long hours as well as helping at Grandpa's farm. But these long hours and hard work never stopped his concern for mom and me. We went to church together and to a family group called the 50-50 class for potlucks and movies. Through all these changing times I was growing with dad's encouraging help that the future would be better for me than it was for him. Always asking me if it was my best, he was proud of his job and desired to be, most of all, a good employee. He helped me to learn my trades, bought tools and supplies so I could. No one knows the pieces and parts I consumed, only to have dad bring more. Though he didn't understand what I was doing he was proud that I did it. He would tell everyone about my accomplishments, knowing I would understand his pride in me. I graduated from high school and went to college for awhile. Soon I married, grandchildren came, and his love for each of them never showed favoritism of any kind. A gift for everyone on his birthday was his wish, then every Sunday, noon dinner with Gandmother and Gandpops, as the kids called him. We would go to Grange meetings, many happy hours at Milton Grange, cleaning the yard and hall. Dad was happy to be with the brothers and sisters doing what ever was to be done. He wanted to be where I was, most of all, and I must say, I wanted it that way too. State Grange Sessions for fourteen years found mom and dad listening to my part in the activities. Probably the greatest moment was the train trip to Syracuse, New York to the National Session of the Grange. This was the train ride he had dreamt of for so many years. So this man lived more than years. He was our life, and we were his, we parted last Sunday with dinner at our house in Afton. We had a father and son chat in my shop. This perhaps, ends this tribute, but it will never end the beautiful memory of love and care that Elmer had for his family and especially me. He was my Dad. With Love, Orvin
Tribute to Elmer Titus
The moment has come to pause for reflection on the footsteps of one who walked among us for seventy-seven years.
Born to Charles and Emma Titus "a male child". That was all it said on a birth certificate dated October 24, 1900.
This little boy began his life in a rural America, lacking the modern ways of living. He was expected as a whisp of a lad to drive a team of horses, milk his share of cows, and split the wood for his kitchen stove.
Those were happy days, skipping along the rutted roads to the Sheepskin School a mile or so away, even giving a longing look at a Milwaukee bound train, dreaming someday to be aboard to adventures beyond. Soon the family packed their belongings on the wagon and traveled a few miles to their permanent home near Newville. The neighbors welcomed the family of two girls and a boy to this farm in Milton Township.
A bit older now, with adventure in his heart, he explored Lake Koshkonong, trapping, hunting and fishing every free moment made these precious days fly by. School days called again, this time to the Rock River School which was to provide the rest of his education. It was from here he would assume his place in the working world. Tragedy marked his youthful career, watering a horse resulted in a hoof to the face, knocked to the ground unconscious, a doctor was called, but no word of comfort was spoken. The doctor said nothing could be done, but he recovered to a future full life. Many happy hours were spent exchanging work with neighbors. Though the work was hard, many hands made it go better. The wisp and whir of belts and pulleys rang loud and clear yet today, but times were changing. A car was purchased in 1918, one of those put-puts called a model T. He nearly ran the wheels off this conveyance, not just running around enjoying himself, but piling it high with farm produce and wood, neatly split, to sell to customers in Edgerton and Janesville. As nearly every story has a pretty girl, mom was no exception. At an Epworth League meeting in Janesville in 1928, a sweet Janesville girl served my dad pie and ice cream. With a smile she accepted a ride home in a new model T. As the arrived at her residence he said, If you want to see me again just write me a letter. That is exactly what happened. On February 24, 1929, Irel Hoover became Mrs. Titus, moving into the house at 209 N. Palm St. to live together there for 48 years. The depression came, agricultural prices sagged. Dad went to work at various factory jobs before starting at Chevrolet in February 1934. Mixed with problems galore two babies were born. A little girl, Marcella Jane was stillborn. A little boy, Orvin Elmer was born October 1 , 1933. Soon after my birth mom became very ill, remaining so for several years. Housekeepers came and went, but my dad was patient with everything and everyone (including me). Many times he did dishes, scrubbed and cleaned, all he could do to keep our home together. He managed, somehow, to pay taxes, interest and finally to pay for our home. He sold wood, garden produce and salvaged whatever he could to make a few extra pennies to keep our ship afloat. The great World War came. Shell production at the Oldsmobile Plant meant long hours as well as helping at Grandpa's farm. But these long hours and hard work never stopped his concern for mom and me. We went to church together and to a family group called the 50-50 class for potlucks and movies. Through all these changing times I was growing with dad's encouraging help that the future would be better for me than it was for him. Always asking me if it was my best, he was proud of his job and desired to be, most of all, a good employee. He helped me to learn my trades, bought tools and supplies so I could. No one knows the pieces and parts I consumed, only to have dad bring more. Though he didn't understand what I was doing he was proud that I did it. He would tell everyone about my accomplishments, knowing I would understand his pride in me. I graduated from high school and went to college for awhile. Soon I married, grandchildren came, and his love for each of them never showed favoritism of any kind. A gift for everyone on his birthday was his wish, then every Sunday, noon dinner with Gandmother and Gandpops, as the kids called him. We would go to Grange meetings, many happy hours at Milton Grange, cleaning the yard and hall. Dad was happy to be with the brothers and sisters doing what ever was to be done. He wanted to be where I was, most of all, and I must say, I wanted it that way too. State Grange Sessions for fourteen years found mom and dad listening to my part in the activities. Probably the greatest moment was the train trip to Syracuse, New York to the National Session of the Grange. This was the train ride he had dreamt of for so many years. So this man lived more than years. He was our life, and we were his, we parted last Sunday with dinner at our house in Afton. We had a father and son chat in my shop. This perhaps, ends this tribute, but it will never end the beautiful memory of love and care that Elmer had for his family and especially me. He was my Dad. With Love, Orvin
The moment has come to pause for reflection on the footsteps of one who walked among us for seventy-seven years.
Born to Charles and Emma Titus "a male child". That was all it said on a birth certificate dated October 24, 1900.
This little boy began his life in a rural America, lacking the modern ways of living. He was expected as a whisp of a lad to drive a team of horses, milk his share of cows, and split the wood for his kitchen stove.
Those were happy days, skipping along the rutted roads to the Sheepskin School a mile or so away, even giving a longing look at a Milwaukee bound train, dreaming someday to be aboard to adventures beyond. Soon the family packed their belongings on the wagon and traveled a few miles to their permanent home near Newville. The neighbors welcomed the family of two girls and a boy to this farm in Milton Township.
A bit older now, with adventure in his heart, he explored Lake Koshkonong, trapping, hunting and fishing every free moment made these precious days fly by. School days called again, this time to the Rock River School which was to provide the rest of his education. It was from here he would assume his place in the working world. Tragedy marked his youthful career, watering a horse resulted in a hoof to the face, knocked to the ground unconscious, a doctor was called, but no word of comfort was spoken. The doctor said nothing could be done, but he recovered to a future full life. Many happy hours were spent exchanging work with neighbors. Though the work was hard, many hands made it go better. The wisp and whir of belts and pulleys rang loud and clear yet today, but times were changing. A car was purchased in 1918, one of those put-puts called a model T. He nearly ran the wheels off this conveyance, not just running around enjoying himself, but piling it high with farm produce and wood, neatly split, to sell to customers in Edgerton and Janesville. As nearly every story has a pretty girl, mom was no exception. At an Epworth League meeting in Janesville in 1928, a sweet Janesville girl served my dad pie and ice cream. With a smile she accepted a ride home in a new model T. As the arrived at her residence he said, If you want to see me again just write me a letter. That is exactly what happened. On February 24, 1929, Irel Hoover became Mrs. Titus, moving into the house at 209 N. Palm St. to live together there for 48 years. The depression came, agricultural prices sagged. Dad went to work at various factory jobs before starting at Chevrolet in February 1934. Mixed with problems galore two babies were born. A little girl, Marcella Jane was stillborn. A little boy, Orvin Elmer was born October 1 , 1933. Soon after my birth mom became very ill, remaining so for several years. Housekeepers came and went, but my dad was patient with everything and everyone (including me). Many times he did dishes, scrubbed and cleaned, all he could do to keep our home together. He managed, somehow, to pay taxes, interest and finally to pay for our home. He sold wood, garden produce and salvaged whatever he could to make a few extra pennies to keep our ship afloat. The great World War came. Shell production at the Oldsmobile Plant meant long hours as well as helping at Grandpa's farm. But these long hours and hard work never stopped his concern for mom and me. We went to church together and to a family group called the 50-50 class for potlucks and movies. Through all these changing times I was growing with dad's encouraging help that the future would be better for me than it was for him. Always asking me if it was my best, he was proud of his job and desired to be, most of all, a good employee. He helped me to learn my trades, bought tools and supplies so I could. No one knows the pieces and parts I consumed, only to have dad bring more. Though he didn't understand what I was doing he was proud that I did it. He would tell everyone about my accomplishments, knowing I would understand his pride in me. I graduated from high school and went to college for awhile. Soon I married, grandchildren came, and his love for each of them never showed favoritism of any kind. A gift for everyone on his birthday was his wish, then every Sunday, noon dinner with Gandmother and Gandpops, as the kids called him. We would go to Grange meetings, many happy hours at Milton Grange, cleaning the yard and hall. Dad was happy to be with the brothers and sisters doing what ever was to be done. He wanted to be where I was, most of all, and I must say, I wanted it that way too. State Grange Sessions for fourteen years found mom and dad listening to my part in the activities. Probably the greatest moment was the train trip to Syracuse, New York to the National Session of the Grange. This was the train ride he had dreamt of for so many years. So this man lived more than years. He was our life, and we were his, we parted last Sunday with dinner at our house in Afton. We had a father and son chat in my shop. This perhaps, ends this tribute, but it will never end the beautiful memory of love and care that Elmer had for his family and especially me. He was my Dad. With Love, Orvin
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