Odes to Creation, Life, Purpose, Nation Building, and Parenting

Creation

R.E. Slater

March 25-26, 2023

The human mind cannot comprehend

those hoary ages which came before,

nor human breast deny its longings,

yearning long life and fellowship;

measured in eons past it's instincts for

survival's best of self and contrary world.

Formed at once of soil and frail breed, One

with nature, sea and land, beast and primate,

which came before overcoming perils;

all bourne of earth, of starry celestials,

rich in lore, in act and sacrifice, running

to mysteries divine and divinely driven.

Impregnated with renewal divine yet fraught

heavenly fellowships by forces dark and wan;

disrupters to the One, the All, the Creator God

we call Redeemer, Lover, Hope, and Sage;

frail, impoverished, having but one another

against crucibles natural, unwieldy, fey.

To Thee, O' Lord, we submit to mysteries

incomprehensible but assuredly Thine,

to Thy love which runs throughout vine

and branch, to the starry skies above;

Thy hallowed spaces are everywhere about

when met with bent knee to Thee and Thine.

R.E. Slater

March 26, 2023

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications

all rights reserved

* * * * * * *

Human Evolution

by Ryan Christopher Brandes

October 2012

We open our minds to expand to the times not to pretend there is some end to confine the limits of prime; we defend to remind to dance to the trance we redefine to enhance not to surrender to chance.

We open our hearts to embrace the new space-time transparency, interdimensional race as we become united and one, open to truth we exhibit ourselves as one infinite youth, gifted and new, eternally pure evolved to endure no end to potential, perfect and cured.

We strengthen our bodies and build on each other we love ourselves and love one another we grow and mature and extend to our neighbors but as we think deeper our expansion is greater our planet is one and our galaxy peace to the opening worlds we bring wisdom and ease we do not enslave or deny or deceive but we share our pure knowledge our light and belief.

We raise up our souls beyond science and physics to evolve beyond consciousness confinements and limits our imperial nature shifts to emerge from the boundaries of body and smallness of Earth we expand our perception to include all dimensions from previous eons to future inceptions.

We shift our new world from finite to light, universal, infinite, natural, bright we embrace the day and welcome the night to work with each other to be perfect, upright, to evolve our new planet, our galactic mindframe to expand from micro to cosmically aimed to unlock the portals to open our brains to evolve from old gears to interdimensional spheres uniting creation without hesitation pure as clean water and deep meditation.

* * * * * * *

To Darwin

A poem about human evolution

by N.A. Kazi

June 28, 2021

O, the grandmaster of philosophy!
And the patron saint of biology!

I recite to thee:

I decoupled myself by performing
the most effective therapy
And the greatest meditation of all: poetry;

To observe my motionless body
In search of the mysteries of lostness,
And the paths to self-identity.

I sought that exact moment
When a species evolves into another:

From an Australopithecus to
Homo Habilis into Homo Erectus to the next.

A minute-by-minute record,

A frame-by-frame snapshot

Of the final changes in

The DNA of an embryo

In the womb of its unwitting

Heidelbergian mother that

Engendered the primeval baby-sapient.

That moment, that precious second of

The mutation is a secular miracle,

A natural yet defiled magical process

Of procreation, survival, and growth,

In pursuit of self-promotion

On this Planet Number X

Of the Galaxy Y. Voila!

Welcome to human society:

At the mercy of biochemistry

And genetic coding over zillions of years.

Each incremental incident

Producing that microscopic change

That all adds up to our paranoid existence.

The flawless scientific logic of trial and error,

Mediated by a handsome dose of coincidence,

Cannibalism, and self-preservation.

But were they, too, the naked, feeble

Hominid ancestors of ours, romantic?

Did they love to rhyme

With the opening words of

Their primitive languages?

Did they observe thunder, rain, and rainbow

With similar bewilderment?

Did they watch the night-sky

And it's billions of stars and

Thought, “Is it, one giant

Piece of hanging net adorned

With gems and diamonds?”

Or did they know not any

Precious metals and stones?

Did they see their reflections in the water

And amazed at the beauty of the beholder?

Or like me, they, too, saw shabby images,

As though on a mirror, and frowned,

Groaned, mocked, and took pity

On their own souls and self?

Did they, too, comprehend that

This ephemeral body is but a vessel

For the brain: a watery, fatty creature that

Cannot walk or live outside its host?

We are at the mercy

Of that demigod and its

All-powerful courtesans:

The heart, the gut &

The nervous scheme.

But what’s the point of carrying

Around this tangle of neurons?

Oh, the mind, of course!

It is the domicile of the latter,

Which holds in its palms

The twin portions of id

And super-ego:

The constant tug-of-war

Between instinct and critique.

We know not

Which one is poisonous

And which is nourishing.

It is a great unsolved puzzle,

My polymath friend:

They both might be succulent,

Or both equally noxious.

[Halifax, 28.06.21]

* * * * * * *

As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free

by Walt Whitman

 1
AS a strong bird on pinions free, 
Joyous, the amplest spaces heavenward cleaving, 
Such be the thought I’d think to-day of thee, America, 
Such be the recitative I’d bring to-day for thee.
 

The conceits of the poets of other lands I bring thee not,
Nor the compliments that have served their turn so long, 
Nor rhyme—nor the classics—nor perfume of foreign court, or indoor library; 
But an odor I’d bring to-day as from forests of pine in the north, in Maine—or
 breath
 of an Illinois prairie, 
With open airs of Virginia, or Georgia, or Tennessee—or from Texas uplands, or
 Florida’s glades, 
With presentment of Yellowstone’s scenes, or Yosemite;
And murmuring under, pervading all, I’d bring the rustling sea-sound, 
That endlessly sounds from the two great seas of the world.
 

And for thy subtler sense, subtler refrains, O Union! 
Preludes of intellect tallying these and thee—mind-formulas fitted for
 thee—real, and
 sane, and large as these and thee; 
Thou, mounting higher, diving deeper than we knew—thou transcendental Union!
By thee Fact to be justified—blended with Thought; 
Thought of Man justified—blended with God: 
Through thy Idea—lo! the immortal Reality! 
Through thy Reality—lo! the immortal Idea! 

2
Brain of the New World! what a task is thine!
To formulate the Modern.
.
.
.
.
Out of the peerless grandeur of the modern, 
Out of Thyself—comprising Science—to recast Poems, Churches, Art, 
(Recast—may-be discard them, end them—May-be their work is done—who knows?)

By vision, hand, conception, on the background of the mighty past, the dead, 
To limn, with absolute faith, the mighty living present.


(And yet, thou living, present brain! heir of the dead, the Old World brain! 
Thou that lay folded, like an unborn babe, within its folds so long! 
Thou carefully prepared by it so long!—haply thou but unfoldest it—only maturest
 it; 
It to eventuate in thee—the essence of the by-gone time contain’d in thee; 
Its poems, churches, arts, unwitting to themselves, destined with reference to thee,
The fruit of all the Old, ripening to-day in thee.) 

3
Sail—sail thy best, ship of Democracy! 
Of value is thy freight—’tis not the Present only, 
The Past is also stored in thee! 
Thou holdest not the venture of thyself alone—not of thy western continent alone;
Earth’s résumé entire floats on thy keel, O ship—is
 steadied by
 thy spars; 
With thee Time voyages in trust—the antecedent nations sink or swim with thee; 
With all their ancient struggles, martyrs, heroes, epics, wars, thou bear’st the
 other
 continents; 
Theirs, theirs as much as thine, the destination-port triumphant: 
—Steer, steer with good strong hand and wary eye, O helmsman—thou carryest great
 companions,
Venerable, priestly Asia sails this day with thee, 
And royal, feudal Europe sails with thee.
 

4
Beautiful World of new, superber Birth, that rises to my eyes, 
Like a limitless golden cloud, filling the western sky; 
Emblem of general Maternity, lifted above all;
Sacred shape of the bearer of daughters and sons; 
Out of thy teeming womb, thy giant babes in ceaseless procession issuing, 
Acceding from such gestation, taking and giving continual strength and life; 
World of the Real! world of the twain in one! 
World of the Soul—born by the world of the real alone—led to identity, body, by
 it
 alone;
Yet in beginning only—incalculable masses of composite, precious materials, 
By history’s cycles forwarded—by every nation, language, hither sent, 
Ready, collected here—a freer, vast, electric World, to be constructed here, 
(The true New World—the world of orbic Science, Morals, Literatures to come,) 
Thou Wonder World, yet undefined, unform’d—neither do I define thee;
How can I pierce the impenetrable blank of the future? 
I feel thy ominous greatness, evil as well as good; 
I watch thee, advancing, absorbing the present, transcending the past; 
I see thy light lighting and thy shadow shadowing, as if the entire globe; 
But I do not undertake to define thee—hardly to comprehend thee;
I but thee name—thee prophecy—as now! 
I merely thee ejaculate! 

Thee in thy future; 
Thee in thy only permanent life, career—thy own unloosen’d mind—thy soaring
 spirit; 
Thee as another equally needed sun, America—radiant, ablaze, swift-moving,
 fructifying
 all;
Thee! risen in thy potent cheerfulness and joy—thy endless, great hilarity! 
(Scattering for good the cloud that hung so long—that weigh’d so long upon the
 mind
 of man, 
The doubt, suspicion, dread, of gradual, certain decadence of man;) 
Thee in thy larger, saner breeds of Female, Male—thee in thy athletes, moral,
 spiritual,
 South, North, West, East, 
(To thy immortal breasts, Mother of All, thy every daughter, son, endear’d alike,
 forever
 equal;)
Thee in thy own musicians, singers, artists, unborn yet, but certain; 
Thee in thy moral wealth and civilization (until which thy proudest material wealth and
 civilization must remain in vain;) 
Thee in thy all-supplying, all-enclosing Worship—thee in no single bible, saviour,
 merely,

Thy saviours countless, latent within thyself—thy bibles incessant, within thyself,
 equal
 to any, divine as any; 
Thee in an education grown of thee—in teachers, studies, students, born of thee;
Thee in thy democratic fetes, en masse—thy high original festivals, operas,
 lecturers,
 preachers; 
Thee in thy ultimata, (the preparations only now completed—the edifice on sure
 foundations
 tied,) 
Thee in thy pinnacles, intellect, thought—thy topmost rational joys—thy love,
 and
 godlike aspiration, 
In thy resplendent coming literati—thy full-lung’d orators—thy sacerdotal
 bards—kosmic savans, 
These! these in thee, (certain to come,) to-day I prophecy.


5
Land tolerating all—accepting all—not for the good alone—all good for thee;

Land in the realms of God to be a realm unto thyself; 
Under the rule of God to be a rule unto thyself.
 

(Lo! where arise three peerless stars, 
To be thy natal stars, my country—Ensemble—Evolution—Freedom,
Set in the sky of Law.) 

Land of unprecedented faith—God’s faith! 
Thy soil, thy very subsoil, all upheav’d; 
The general inner earth, so long, so sedulously draped over, now and hence for what it is,
 boldly laid bare, 
Open’d by thee to heaven’s light, for benefit or bale.


Not for success alone; 
Not to fair-sail unintermitted always; 
The storm shall dash thy face—the murk of war, and worse than war, shall cover thee
 all
 over; 
(Wert capable of war—its tug and trials? Be capable of peace, its trials; 
For the tug and mortal strain of nations come at last in peace—not war;)
In many a smiling mask death shall approach, beguiling thee—thou in disease shalt
 swelter;

The livid cancer spread its hideous claws, clinging upon thy breasts, seeking to strike
 thee
 deep within; 
Consumption of the worst—moral consumption—shall rouge thy face with hectic: 
But thou shalt face thy fortunes, thy diseases, and surmount them all, 
Whatever they are to-day, and whatever through time they may be,
They each and all shall lift, and pass away, and cease from thee; 
While thou, Time’s spirals rounding—out of thyself, thyself still extricating,
 fusing, 
Equable, natural, mystical Union thou—(the mortal with immortal blent,) 
Shalt soar toward the fulfilment of the future—the spirit of the body and the mind, 
The Soul—its destinies.


The Soul, its destinies—the real real, 
(Purport of all these apparitions of the real;) 
In thee, America, the Soul, its destinies; 
Thou globe of globes! thou wonder nebulous! 
By many a throe of heat and cold convuls’d—(by these thyself solidifying;)
Thou mental, moral orb! thou New, indeed new, Spiritual World! 
The Present holds thee not—for such vast growth as thine—for such
 unparallel’d
 flight as thine, 
The Future only holds thee, and can hold thee.

* * * * * * *

At The Smithville Methodist Church

by Stephen Dunn

It was supposed to be Arts & Crafts for a week,

but when she came home

with the "Jesus Saves" button, we knew what art

was up, what ancient craft.

She liked her little friends.
She liked the songs

they sang when they weren't

twisting and folding paper into dolls.

What could be so bad?

Jesus had been a good man, and putting faith

in good men was what

we had to do to stay this side of cynicism,

that other sadness.

OK, we said, One week.

But when she came home

singing "Jesus loves me,

the Bible tells me so," it was time to talk.

Could we say Jesus

doesn't love you?

Could I tell her the Bible

is a great book certain people use

to make you feel bad? We sent her back

without a word.

It had been so long since we believed, so long

since we needed Jesus

as our nemesis and friend, that we thought he was

sufficiently dead,

that our children would think of him like Lincoln

or Thomas Jefferson.

Soon it became clear to us: you can't teach disbelief

to a child,

only wonderful stories, and we hadn't a story

nearly as good.

On parents' night there were the Arts & Crafts

all spread out

like appetizers.
Then we took our seats

in the church

and the children sang a song about the Ark,

and Hallelujah

and one in which they had to jump up and down

for Jesus.

I can't remember ever feeling so uncertain

about what's comic, what's serious.

Evolution is magical but devoid of heroes.

You can't say to your child

"Evolution loves you.

"The story stinks

of extinction and nothing

exciting happens for centuries.

I didn't have

a wonderful story for my child

and she was beaming.

All the way home in the car

she sang the songs,

occasionally standing up for Jesus.

There was nothing to do

but drive, ride it out, sing along

in silence.

Mr. Bleaney, by Poet Philip Larkin

Exploring Mr. Bleaney by Philip Larkin

Mr Bleaney
by Philip Larkin


‘This was Mr Bleaney’s room. He stayed
The whole time he was at the Bodies, till
They moved him.’ Flowered curtains, thin and frayed,
Fall to within five inches of the sill,

Whose window shows a strip of building land,
Tussocky, littered. ‘Mr Bleaney took
My bit of garden properly in hand.’
Bed, upright chair, sixty-watt bulb, no hook

Behind the door, no room for books or bags –
‘I’ll take it.’ So it happens that I lie
Where Mr Bleaney lay, and stub my fags
On the same saucer-souvenir, and try

Stuffing my ears with cotton-wool, to drown
The jabbering set he egged her on to buy.
I know his habits – what time he came down,
His preference for sauce to gravy, why

He kept on plugging at the four aways –
Likewise their yearly frame: the Frinton folk
Who put him up for summer holidays,
And Christmas at his sister’s house in Stoke.

But if he stood and watched the frigid wind
Tousling the clouds, lay on the fusty bed
Telling himself that this was home, and grinned,
And shivered, without shaking off the dread

That how we live measures our own nature,
And at his age having no more to show
Than one hired box should make him pretty sure
He warranted no better, I don’t know.



*From "The Collected Poems" (Faber, 1993), by permission of the publisher, Faber & Faber Ltd. Recording used by permission of Mr. John Weeks. Poem featured in the Poetry Archive's BBC 100 Collection.

https://nanopdf.com/download/mr-bleaney_pdf

Poet Philip Larkin

For further poem dissection - article link here

Mr Bleaney

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

"Mr Bleaney" is a poem by British poet Philip Larkin, written in May 1955. It was first published in The Listener on 8 September 1955 and later included in Larkin's 1964 anthology The Whitsun Weddings.

The speaker in the poem is renting a room and compares his situation to that of its previous occupant, a Mr Bleaney.

Larkin had previously used the surname Bleaney in his first novel Jill in 1946, where Bleaney is named as a classmate of the hero, John Kemp, at "Huddlesford Grammar School", somewhere in Lancashire. But the reader is not told his Christian name or indeed anything else about him. There is nothing to indicate that this is the same Bleaney who eventually occupies the room described in Larkin's poem.

Structure

The poem comprises seven four-line stanzas with a regular rhyme pattern of ABAB. The last sentence spans two stanzas:

But if he stood and watched the frigid wind
Tousling the clouds, lay on the fusty bed
Telling himself that this was home, and grinned,
And shivered, without shaking off the dread

That how we live measures our own nature,
And at his age having no more to show
Than one hired box should make him pretty sure
He warranted no better, I don't know.^[1]

— lines 21-28

See also

• List of poems by Philip Larkin

References

1. ^ Larkin, Philip (2004). Thwaite, Anthony (ed.). Collected Poems. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. p. 81. ISBN 9780374529208.

Of Small Towns & Poems

Cascade, Michigan

This post is written primarily for the people of Cascade, both past and present. The story of it's history is found further below. But to begin, let us first introduce ourselves in poem to the nature of small towns and what attracts so many people in wit, witticism and fond memories.

R.E. Slater

March 17, 2023

The Ten Best Village Poems in English Literature

article link

selected by Dr Oliver Tearle

The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem.

...Poets down the ages have often written about villages and rural communities, but they have often done so for very different reasons. Here are ten of the very best poems about village life.

Oliver Goldsmith, The Deserted Village

Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,

Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain,

Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,

And parting summer’s lingering blooms delayed,

Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,

Seats of my youth, when every sport could please,

How often have I loitered o’er thy green,

Where humble happiness endeared each scene!

How often have I paused on every charm,

The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm …

One of the best-known poems about villages, ‘The Deserted Village’ is dedicated to Joshua Reynolds, and exposes the corruption found within towns in the eighteenth century as well as decrying the depopulation of rural areas, hence the poem’s title. But the poem proved to be so popular partly because it could be read as social commentary or, alternatively, for its appealing and sympathetic descriptions of rural village life.

Thomas Gray, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea,

The plowman homeward plods his weary way,

And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimm’ring landscape on the sight,

And all the air a solemn stillness holds,

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,

And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds …

Of course, this classic eighteenth-century poem had to feature in our list of the best church poems! The ‘country churchyard’ referred to in the poem’s title belonged to St Giles’ parish church at Stoke Poges in Buckinghamshire. Gray’s Elegy (as it’s often known) was partly inspired by the death of another poet, Richard West, in 1742, but became a grand meditation on death and the simple memorials left behind by rustic village folk rather than statesmen and celebrated figures. The poem also gave Thomas Hardy the phrase ‘far from the madding crowd’ for use as the title of his fourth published novel.

George Crabbe, The Village

The village life, and every care that reigns

O’er youthful peasants and declining swains;

What labour yields, and what, that labour past,

Age, in its hour of languor, finds at last;

What forms the real picture of the poor,

Demands a song—the Muse can give no more.

Fled are those times, if e’er such times were seen,

When rustic poets praised their native green …

Crabbe was influenced by Goldsmith in his depictions of village life, and this influence is clear in ‘The Village’, a narrative poem in which Crabbe tries to move away from the glorified depictions of the village in earlier eighteenth-century poems (including Goldsmith’s) and show village life as it actually is.

John Clare, The Village Boy

Free from the cottage corner see how wild

The village boy along the pastures hies

With every smell and sound and sight beguiled

That round the prospect meets his wondering eyes

Now stooping eager for the cowslip peeps

As though he’d get them all – now tired of these

Across the flaggy brook he eager leaps

For some new flower his happy rapture sees

Now tearing mid the bushes on his knees

Or woodland banks for bluebell flowers he creepts

And now while looking up among the trees

He spies a nest and down he throws his flowers

And up he climbs with new-fed extacies

The happiest object in the summer hours

In this sonnet, one of England’s greatest poets of rural life and the natural world describes a village boy moving through the countryside, with Clare’s repeated use of ‘now’ conveying the heady and almost dizzying journey of the village boy. We have reproduced the sonnet in full above, as it isn’t widely available elsewhere online.

Emily Dickinson, I often passed the village

This poem is about the stillness and quietness of villages:

I often passed the village

When going home from school –

And wondered what they did there –

And why it was so still –

But with a twist: the speaker of the poem is dead, and is speaking from the stillness of the village grave.

Thomas Hardy, Afternoon Service at Mellstock

On afternoons of drowsy calm

We stood in the panelled pew,

Singing one-voiced a Tate-and-Brady psalm

To the tune of ‘Cambridge New.’

We watched the elms, we watched the rooks,

The clouds upon the breeze,

Between the whiles of glancing at our books,

And swaying like the trees …

Mellstock in Hardy’s Wessex is Stinsford, the small Dorset village where his heart was interred in 1928, and in this poem, Hardy recalls his childhood hours spent at the local village church, singing hymns and psalms. The adult Hardy, looking back, cannot believe that such ‘psalming’ did any good; but, as so often with Hardy’s poems, there is a wistfulness for the faith he has lost (compare ‘The Oxen’ here.)

Edward Thomas, Adlestrop

Yes, I remember Adlestrop –

The name, because one afternoon

Of heat the express-train drew up there

Unwontedly. It was late June.

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.

No one left and no one came

On the bare platform …

The setting for this poem is the railway station serving the small village of Adlestrop in Gloucestershire; the moment is a day in ‘late June’ – specifically, late June 1914, when Thomas, on his way to visit Robert Frost, noted the summery sounds and sights while the train stopped at the station. The poem captures a moment of English summer tranquillity in a few vivid, evocative images and sounds.

Rupert Brooke, The Old Vicarage, Grantchester

Some, it may be, can get in touch

With Nature there, or Earth, or such.

And clever modern men have seen

A Faun a-peeping through the green,

And felt the Classics were not dead,

To glimpse a Naiad’s reedy head,

Or hear the Goat-foot piping low …

This famous poem romanticises a small Cambridgeshire village while Brooke sits in a German café – a sort of updated version of Robert Browning’s ‘Home Thoughts, from Abroad’ for a new generation. The closing lines – ‘Stands the church clock at ten to three? / And is there honey still for tea?’ are well-known and well-loved. The poem captures an idea of Englishness which belongs to the years immediately preceding the First World War, which changed everything forever. The English way of life described in the poem would be altered drastically in all sorts of ways. Brooke seems to know, from his coffee-shop in Berlin, that its days are numbered. Two years later, he would be proved right.

T. S. Eliot, ‘East Coker’. Although T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) was born in the United States, he lived in England from 1914 and adopted British citizenship in 1927. ‘East Coker’ is unusual among Eliot’s poems in focusing on the English countryside. Detailing a visit to his ancestral home, the small Somerset village of East Coker, and dwelling on the Tudor communities who once inhabited the land, ‘East Coker’ is the second of Eliot’s Four Quartets and a great modernist poem about the English countryside.

R. S. Thomas, ‘The Village’. This fine poem about a Welsh village by one of the twentieth century’s greatest Welsh poets conveys the feel of a small village where hardly anything happens. Yet despite this, the village possesses a significance beyond itself: it is part of history.

* * * * * * * *

1876 map

The History of Cascade

& It's Irish Heritage

The Irish - web link

GRHC - March 17th, 2014

Transcript

The first foreign immigrants to come to the area were the Irish, brought here in 1835 to help dig the canals along the river. Their language was, of course, English, and their integration was easy. The Irish seemed to have followed the direction of the westward movement on the Erie Canal, which opened in 1825, and later on the railroads. Those who came here settled in the Creston area and on the west side. They made up a large part of St. Andrew’s and St. James’ parishes in the early years.

Later in the nineteenth century a branch of the Ancient Order of Hibernians was organized. They built a hall on Ottawa Avenue, near Michigan Street; it included an auditorium, billiard parlor, and bowling alleys. St. Patrick’s Day celebrations were held there, speakers were brought in, and entertainments were conducted in the auditorium.

The Hibernians had a band that played in parades, of which there were many in earlier days. But the organization waned when the newly founded Knights of Columbus established itself locally. However, there were Hibernian offshoots such as the Irish Fellowship Club and the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick.

In 1965, when a building was razed at the southwest corner of Crescent and Bond, a poster was uncovered; it advertised a Grand Ball and Picnic by the Ancient Order of the Hibernians on August 6th 1884.

* * * * * * * *

Click to enlarge PDF below

MSU book link

References

Cascade by Facebook

A History of Cascade, Michigan

An Early History of Ada Township

Cascade Township Offices - History

History of immigration to the United States

Irish Americans

Opposition to immigration

Ireland

History of Europeans in GR

* * * * * * * *

Cascade School, 1898

CASCADE, Michigan

https://www.migenweb.org/kent/directories/1870Dillenback/cascade.html

Cascade lies in the second tier of townships from the south and east line of the county, and is bounded on the north by Ada, on the east by Lowell, on the south by Caledonia, and on the west by Paris. The Detroit and Milwaukee Railroad passes through this town, entering on the north part of section 12, and following the course of the Grand River Valley through the southwest corner of section crossing section 2 in almost a direct line from southeast to northwest, into Ada, where is located its nearest depot, four miles from Cascade village.

GENERAL DESCRIPTION

Cascade presents a variety of soil, from light sand and gravel to heavy clay, and is greatly diversified by hills, valleys, steams, lakes, springs and marshes. Grand River flows northwest through sections 12, 1 and 2, into Ada, and the Thornapple -- one of the most important tributaries of Grand River -- takes its course north through the center of the township. Entering Cascade from the south on section 24, it flows through 27, 22, 16, 9,10, 3 and 4 to Grand River, at Ada village. On the east of the Thornapple, a creek rises in section 11, and enters that stream at section 10. Another, one branch of which rises in section 30, Lowell, and the other in section 1, of Caledonia, forms a junction at section 26, in Cascade, and carried its united currents to the Thornapple at 27; furnishing, in its route, water power to a saw mill on section 26. On the west side of the river, a creek rising on section 29, forms a junction with it on section 34. Another having its head on section 19, enters the river at 16. Another, whose source is a large boiling spring on section 6, in its course of two and a half miles attains considerable size, and empties its waters into the Thornapple at section 9. Remains of an old beaver dam were to be found on this creek, quite recently. On the southeast corner of section 14, is found a lake with a greater depth of water than Lake Erie. The aborigines of the country have a singular superstition with regard to this lake; never floating their canoes on its bosom, or eating the fish of its waters, asserting that it is inhabited by an "Evil Spirit" or as they term it, a "Great Snake." Another lake is also found on the line of sections 4 and 5. Also one in the northwest corner of section 8, matched by one some forty rods directly south.

TIMBER

This township contains but little pine, which is sparsely scattered along the borders of its streams. The sandy soil is chiefly oak openings; while the gravel and clay bear some fine sugar orchards and are also productive of beech, elm, ash, hickory, and a meager supply of white wood.

MINERAL WEALTH

Lime is manufactured on section 35. Brick have also been manufactured on section 8, and a bed of red ochre lying on section 9 was used in painting some of the first buildings and the old red school house on that section. The mineral is considered pure enough to be profitably worked. The soil also shows traces of bituminous coal, copper and iron. The latter ore, manifesting itself in magnetic or mineral springs. One of these, of greater power, has been discovered this year, on the farm of James Sutpehn, section 26. The water bubbles up from the well with icy coldness, and flows over a pebbly bed, staining --with brilliant coloring -- its stony path. Iron brought in contact with it becomes heavily charged with magnetism. The water has not yet been analyzed.

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EARLY SETTLEMENT

The township was at first a part of the township of Ada. Lewis Cook, a native of New Jersey, is said to have been the first settler within the limits of Cascade. He removed from that State to Seneca county, New York; from thence to Washtenaw county, in this state; from which he came, a pioneer settler to Cascade in 1836. At or near this time also came Mr. Hiram Laraway to this place from New York. His wife being a sister of Mrs. Cook. But, discouraged by the hardships of the wilderness, he soon returned to his native place. In the following year, Edward Linen, a native of Ireland - whose shores he left for America in 1836 - settled in Cascade, where he yet resides, a useful, industrious citizen.

During the year 1838, and the subsequent year, he was followed by James May, David Petted, John Farrell, James and William Annis, Michael Matthews, Patrick, Christopher and Michael Eardley, all natives of the same country, most of whom yet survive, orderly citizens of their adopted home. In 1838, Frederick A. Marsh, of New York, united in marriage with Olive Guild, a daughter of Joel Guild, one of the pioneer settlers of Grand Rapids - and began domestic life in the unbroken wilderness, one mile north, and west of where Cascade village now stands. Mr. Marsh lived to see the forest yield its place to cultivated fields and comfortable dwellings, and to have a school house erected on his own land. He was killed by a fall from his wagon in 1856. Mrs. Marsh, afterwards Mrs. Walden, survived her husband eleven years, and often spoke of those days, when her nearest neighbors were miles away, and for three months at a time she did not see the face of a white man, except her husband, while a human being passing over the newly cut road was a relief to her intense loneliness. She died at the old homestead in 1867.

Sometimes during 1839 or 1840, Mr. Laraway returned to his Cascade possessions, and was frozen to death between that place and Ada, in the winter of 1841. Widow Laraway bravely met the heavy burdens of pioneer life, and trained up three sons and daughters to lives of usefulness. While the name of aunt Mary Laraway became a household word in the community and a synonym of virtue and piety. She lived to see her children settled in life, and died suddenly in the summer of 1869. Her eldest son is well known as the proprietor of a stone-cutting establishment in Grand Rapids.

Peter and George Teeple came to Cascade during these years, joining the settlers on the west side of the Thornapple, while the eastern side was yet unmarked by civilization, but inhabited on or near sections 23 and 26, by a colony of about 350 natives, known, through the adoption of the name of their missionary, as the Slater Indians.

In the year 1841, Peter Whitney, of Ohio, moved his family into that part of Cascade known as Whitneyville, and E. D. Gove, of Mass., selected a site for his future home near the center of the township on sections 22, 15 and 14, to which he brought his family in the summer of 1842. Horace Sears, from New York, and Zerah and Ezra Whitney, (father and brother to Peter), accompanied them in their journey and settled in Whitneyville. Mr. Gove yet resides on the land he first settled, on section 15. But the old homestead on section 21 - being the second house built on the east side of the river, in this township - having sheltered children and grand children, was burned in the autumn of 1869. Mr. Sears yet lives in Whitneyville; and Zerah Whitney, elected Justice of the Peace at the first township meeting - now an aged man - resides with his son Ezra on a farm south of Grand Rapids. Another son of Zerah Whitney, Oscar, died at Whitneyville in 1849. And the remaining sons, Peter, Johnson and Martin, now reside in other parts of the county.

In the spring of 1845, Asa W. Denison and family, of Mass., (accompanied by a brother Gideon H. Denison, looking for a homestead, to which he brought his family the following year,) came to join the settlers on the west side of the Thornapple. Coming in on the State road, from Battle Creek to Grand Rapids, the teams, women and children of the company, were obliged to wait at Ezra Whitney's public-house, for the road to be "chopped-out" between that point and the river, theirs being the first teams that ever passed over the road. At Cascade they forded the Thornapple with their household goods, and found timbers on the ground for the erection of the old Ferry House (now Cascade Hotel,) which was, at that time, owned by D. S. T. Weller. During that year the house was so far completed as to admit of occupancy, and the first ferry-boat commenced its trips just above where the bridge now spans that stream. D. S. T. Weller then owned the plat of land now occupied by Cascade village, although first purchased by Joel Guild; and it was at that time staked out into lots of one acres each, as the fine fall on the river gave hopes for speedy erection of mills at that place, some of the most sanguine settlers prophesying that Cascade would outstrip Grand Rapids in the strife for precedence. Mr. W. sold out his property here to W. S. Gunn, in 1846, who held it until after the organization of the township. Mr. Weller ultimately settled in Grand Rapids city, where he remained until he transferred his home to Detroit, in 1869.

During the year 1845, a disease, which our old settlers denominate the black tongue, broke out among the Indians near Whitneyville, reducing their number in a few weeks to about 200 persons. The band now became slowly wasted by disease and removal, until less than fifty remained at the time of their removal to the Indian Reservation in 1856. In the year 1846, another family was added to the few settlers, of the east side of the river - Jared Strong, the first settler in the forest between E. D. Gove and Ada. The following year a school was opened in a little log house on the river bank, section 27, for the few pupils of that vicinity. Who the young woman was, to whom belongs the rank of pioneer teacher, we have been unable to ascertain, or whether this was the first school taught in the township. It was certainly the first on the east side of the river; and the lumber sawn for the Whitneyville school house, erected in 1848, was among the first work done by the old saw mill, on Sucker Creek, then owned by Peter Whitney. About this time, the Kalamazoo stage made its trips through Whitneyville - via Ada - for Grand Rapids.

ORGANIZATION

The first township meeting was held at Whitneyville, April 3, 1848, and the following board of township officers was elected :

Supervisor - Peter Teeple, Clerk - John R. Stewart. Treasurer - Asa W. Denison. School Inspectors - James H. Woodworth, Thomas I. Seeley. Commissioners of Highways - Ezra Whitney, Fred A. Marsh, Wm. Degolia. Justices of the Peace - Leonard Stewart, Zerah Whitney. Assessors - Thomas I. Seeley, Harry Clark. Constables - Morris Denison, O. P. Corson, Wm. Cook, Peter J. Whitney.

Of the above board, Peter Teeple is yet a respected member of the township. J. R. Stewart, after filling out other offices of trust, and teaching for several terms the Cascade school, removed to the city, where he now resides. A. W. Denison, was also a recipient of the various gifts of the voting public, for many years, and died from injury by the kick of a colt, in 1857, aged 52 years, universally mourned by his townspeople. His widow -- now Mrs. Johnson -- yet lives, and to her are we indebted for much of our information in regard to the early days of Cascade. J. H. Woodworth is now engaged in fruit culture in the north part of the township, near Ada village. Of T. I. Seeley we have known nothing since 1853. Messrs. Whitneys and Marsh, we have spoken of our preceding pages. Wm. Degolia amassed a fine property, and left the county in 1869. A few months after his removal, his body was brought back for burial. L. Stewart is also with those, who, sleeping, dream not! Harry Clark yet lives, where he first broke ground, a hale old man. Mr. Denison is a thriving farmer on the north line of the township.

About the year 1848, W. H. Chillson came to Cascade and erected a small dwelling house near the hotel; also a log house just across the river, to which, in 1849, Rev. Erie Prince, of Ohio, brought a small stock of Yankee notions and opened a store, or grocery, for those whose nearest trading point was Grand Rapids. Elder Prince deserves more than a passing notice. He soon identified himself with the religious, and the educational needs of the young community. He held at one time the office of School Inspector, and, up to the time of his death, worked actively in the Sunday school cause, as Superintendent in the different neighborhoods, now grown around the first nucleus of settlers. Was a picnic or temperance meeting to be looked after, or were chastened hearts called to lay their treasures in the dust, Elder P. was ever found ready to speak the kindly word, pour forth the earnest appeal, or -- with tender thought of sympathy -- lead the sorrowing mourner to Him, who is the "resurrection and the life." The fathers and mothers of the little ones of today remember with affectionate respect the tall, slightly bowed form, the kind face, the searching, yet mild gray eye, the hand slightly laid on the head, as he passed them with some friendly question, or brief admonition -- seed sown in life's morning time! In the autumn of 1853 he was called upon to speak before the Kent County Agricultural and Horticultural Society, at Grand Rapids, October 6th; and his address will be found in the records of the society for that year. About the year 1856 he donated to the township of Cascade the land occupied by the Cascade cemetery, and there his body lies buried. His grave is shadowed by a young oak, and unmarked -- by an explicit clause in his will -- by a headstone. He died August 7, 1862, aged 65. In church connection he was a Presbyterian.

We have been unable to learn the precise time that a postoffice was given this township. We think, however, it was established at Whitneyville, soon after its organization. The first postmaster was Clement White, who held that position with only an intermission of one or two years, until the office was discontinued in 1868.

A postoffice was also established at Cascade in 1854, postmaster Dr. M. W. Alfred, the first resident physician. A store was opened the same year at Cascade by Seymour Sage, and William Gardner. When the drumbeat of the Union echoed through our land in 1861, Cascade was not forgetful of her trusts and privileges as a small member of a great country. It is to be regretted that no complete list of those who donned the soldier's uniform has been preserved. We have called to mind eighty volunteers and the number is probably about a hundred. Of those who never returned we are also unable to give a perfect record. But, from every battle of the Republican from 1861 to the close of the contest, came back a voice bidding some heart grow chill with pain, yet glow with hallowed pride, for the souls that were "marching on!"

CASCADE TO-DAY

Cascade has been an organized township for twenty-two years, and according to the census for 1870, has 1175 inhabitants. Children, between the ages of five and twenty, by report of the public schools, 1869 -- 416. Votes cast at this last April election -- 227. Property assessed, real estate, $204,107; personal, $32,317.

The following is the present Board of township officers: Supervisor, Edgar R. Johnson; Clerk, Henry C. Denison; Treasurer, Geo. W. Gorham; Justices of the Peace, Geo. S. Richardson, John F. Proctor, Lawrence Meach, Hugh B. Brown; School Inspectors, E. R. Johnson, Chas. F. Holt: Highway Commissioners, Jonathan W. Sexton, Clinton A. Wood, Chas. M. Dennison; Constables, S. G. Fish, T. J. Hulbert, Miner Spaulding, Warren Streeter.

SCHOOL HOUSES

Cascade can claim one or two school houses of decidedly fine appearance and convenience. But many of her school buildings are those erected in her infancy, and are wholly inadequate to the demands of the present school population. A movement is being made, however, to remedy this defect in many districts.

Her present number of districts is ten. District No. 10 was organized in 1847. There is a frame house on section 35, built in 1848. District No. 4 was organized in 1847, and built a small frame house on section 9; are now (1870) erecting a fine structure on the same site, on the Cascade and Grand Rapids road, one mile from Cascade village. District No. 1 was organized in 1848, and built a school house in 1849, on section 29, which stood until 1869, when a frame house was erected on the same site. District No. 2 was organized in 1849, and built a small log house on section 10, which yet stands. District No. 12 (fractional district, Cascade and Paris) was organized in 1849, and built a small log house on section 10, which yet stands. In 1867 a good frame house, painted white, and protected by window blinds, was erected. District No. 3 was organized in 1853, and built a frame house on section 14, in 1854. District No. 8 has a frame school house, painted white, built in 1856, on section 8. Fractional District No. 10 (Cascade and Lowell) was organized in 1859, and has a small log house on east side of section 13. District No. 5 was organized in 1857, and school taught in a small log house on south side of section 33; was reorganized in 1860 and log house built in center of section 33. This was burned in 1867, and a temporary building has supplied its place until the present year. A fine house is now in process of erection in section 28. District No. 6 was organized about 1860, and has a nice frame school building, painted white, and fitted with black walnut furniture, on section 26.

CHURCHES

Only one church edifice has been erected in Cascade. This has been built by the Roman Catholic Brotherhood, and stands on the northeast corner of section 31. It was built in 1856, and cost about $1,000. The building is of wood, with a stone foundation. The society worshipping here was founded by Fathers Decunic and Fizaski. The latter was parish priest in 1849, when the church members were few and worshipped in private houses. Now the church numbers about 47 families, to whom Father Rivers preaches monthly. A Sabbath School is connected with the church. The M. E. Church also has two classes in this township, numbering about 60 members and worshipping in school houses. The United Brethren persuasion have a small charge of about a dozen members. And the "Christians" also hold public worship, but the strength of the order we have not ascertained.

We regret our inability to give the number and membership of our Sunday Schools; though nearly every district has one connected with its regular church worship.

CEMETERIES

Cemeteries are located on section 31 -- Catholic. Section 16 -- Cascade Burial Ground. Section 35 -- Whitneyville. Section 7 -- West part of township.

CASCADE VILLAGE

Cascade village is located on the line of sections 9 and 16, on the west side of the Thornapple river. It contains a Hotel, now owned by DeWitt Marsh, where all the township business is transacted; a general store, and Post-office, in charge of E. D. Johnson; flouring and saw mills, owned by H. L. Wise and Jacob Kusterer; a physician's office, occupied by Dr. Danforth; and less than a dozen private residences. The flouring mill is a large, well constructed building, will a capacity of three run of stone. Dr. Danforth is the resident physician, and is making preparations for opening a drug store in connection with his office. His practice is Eclectic.

Gaylord Holt, professor and teacher of music, resides one mile north of Cascade, on the river road. This was also the former home of Hon. H. H. Holt, now of Muskegon, who has represented his district in the State Legislature.

WHITNEYVILLE

Whitneyville is a point on the old State Road, between Battle Creek and Grand Rapids; and is situated on section 35. A Hotel, erected there in 1853, and familiarly known as the Whitney Tavern Stand, yet opens its doors to the public, under charge of S. F. Sliter. James Stephen now owns the old Whitney saw mill on section 26.

* * * * * * * *

Cascade Township, Michigan

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

(Redirected from Cascade, Kent County, Michigan)

Cascade Township, Michigan
Charter township
Cascade Charter Township
Former township hall in Cascade Township
Motto:  "Serene vistas... Plentiful trees... Two rivers... One community"[1]
Location within Kent County (red) and an administered portion of the Forest Hills CDP (pink)
Cascade Township Location within the state of Michigan Show map of MichiganShow map of the United StatesShow all
Coordinates: 42°54′09″N 85°29′42″WCoordinates: 42°54′09″N 85°29′42″W
Country	United States
State	Michigan
County	Kent
Established	1848
Government
• Supervisor	Grace Lesperance
• Clerk	Susan Slater
Area
• Total	34.86 sq mi (90.29 km2)
• Land	33.88 sq mi (87.75 km2)
• Water	0.98 sq mi (2.54 km2)
Elevation	663 ft (202 m)
Population  (2010)
• Total	17,134
• Density	505.7/sq mi (195.3/km2)
Time zone	UTC-5 (Eastern (EST))
• Summer (DST)	UTC-4 (EDT)
ZIP code(s)	49301 (Ada) 49302 (Alto) 49512 (Grand Rapids) 49546 (Grand Rapids)
Area code	616
FIPS code	26-081-13660[2]
GNIS feature ID	1626037[3]
Website	Official website

Cascade Charter Township is a charter township of Kent County in the U.S. state of Michigan. The population was 17,134 at the 2010 census.^[4]

The township is part of the Grand Rapids metropolitan area and is located just east of the city of Grand Rapids. The township is the location of Gerald R. Ford International Airport.

Communities

• Cascade is an unincorporated community within the township at the intersection of 28th Street and Cascade Road. Cascade was initially platted in 1845 by D. S. T. Weller. It had a post office from 1854 until 1910.^[5]
• Forest Hills is an unincorporated community and census-designated place that occupies the northern half of the township. The CDP consists of 17.81 square miles (46.13 km²) (51.09%) of the township's area and 12,917 township residents (75.39%) at the 2010 census. Forest Hills is organized for statistical purposes only and also contains a large area of Ada Township to the north. It is the largest CDP in the state of Michigan in both area and population.

History

The township was originally a part of Ada Township and was separately organized in 1848.^[6]

The Whitney Tavern Stand is located within the township. It was built in 1853 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the township has a total area of 34.86 square miles (90.29 km²), of which 33.88 square miles (87.75 km²) is land and 0.98 square miles (2.54 km²) (2.81%) is water.^[4]

The township is situated in the southeastern section of Kent County, approximately 10 miles (16 km) southeast of Grand Rapids. A defining feature of the township is the Thornapple River, which divides the township into east and west halves. The township is bordered to the west by the city of Kentwood, to the north by Ada Township, to the east by Lowell Charter Township, and to the south by Caledonia Charter Township.

Transportation

Airport

•  Gerald R. Ford International Airport is a commercial airport that occupies 4.89 square miles (12.67 km²) of the southwestern portion of the township.

Major highways

•  I-96 runs east–west through the center of the township.
•  M-6 enters at the southern portion of the township and has its eastern terminus at I-96.
•  M-37 (Broadmoor Avenue) enters briefly at the southwestern corner of the township.

Education

The township is served by three public school districts. Caledonia Community Schools serves the southern portion of the township. Most of the township is served by Forest Hills Public Schools, and Lowell Area Schools serves a small eastern portion of the township.^[7]

West Michigan Aviation Academy is a charter high school located within the township.^[8]

Demographics

As of the census^[2] of 2000, there were 15,107 people, 5,394 households, and 4,374 families residing in the township. The population density was 445.7 inhabitants per square mile (172.1/km²). There were 5,638 housing units at an average density of 166.3 per square mile (64.2/km²). The racial makeup of the township was 94.55% White, 1.00% African American, 0.28% Native American, 3.06% Asian, 0.26% from other races, and 0.85% from two or more races. Hispanic or Latino of any race were 0.87% of the population.

There were 5,394 households, out of which 39.3% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 75.1% were married couples living together, 4.5% had a female householder with no husband present, and 18.9% were non-families. 16.7% of all households were made up of individuals, and 8.0% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.80 and the average family size was 3.16.

In the township the population was spread out, with 29.4% under the age of 18, 4.7% from 18 to 24, 23.8% from 25 to 44, 30.8% from 45 to 64, and 11.4% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 41 years. For every 100 females, there were 98.4 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 94.8 males.

The median income for a household in the township was $87,290, and the median income for a family was $98,013. Males had a median income of $71,960 versus $37,234 for females. The per capita income for the township was $39,470. About 1.5% of families and 2.3% of the population were below the poverty line, including 2.3% of those under age 18 and 3.4% of those age 65 or over.

Notable people

• Justin Amash, lawyer and politician, who served as the U.S. representative for Michigan's 3rd congressional district from 2011 to 2021.

References

1. ^ "Cascade Township, Michigan". Cascade Township, Michigan. Retrieved October 24, 2021.
2. ^ Jump up to:^a b "U.S. Census website". United States Census Bureau. Retrieved 2008-01-31.
3. ^ U.S. Geological Survey Geographic Names Information System: Cascade Township, Michigan
4. ^ Jump up to:^a b "Michigan: 2010 Population and Housing Unit Counts 2010 Census of Population and Housing" (PDF). 2010 United States Census. United States Census Bureau. September 2012. p. 28 Michigan. Archived (PDF) from the original on 2012-10-19. Retrieved October 19, 2021.
5. ^ Romig, Walter (October 1, 1986) [1973]. Michigan Place Names: The History of the Founding and the Naming of More Than Five Thousand Past and Present Michigan Communities. Great Lakes Books Series (Paperback). Detroit, Michigan }p=101: Wayne State University Press. ISBN 0-8143-1838-X.
6. ^ Ashlee, Laura (2005). Traveling Through Time: A Guide to Michigan's Historical Markers. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. p. 222. ISBN 9780472030668.
7. ^ Michigan Geographic Framework (15 November 2013). "Kent County School Districts" (PDF). Archived (PDF) from the original on 2014-08-20. Retrieved September 28, 2021.
8. ^ "Home". West Michigan Aviation Academy. Retrieved 2019-08-17. 5363 44th Street SE, Grand Rapids, MI 49512

External links

• Cascade Township official website