Last week I was contacted by a lady who had a copy of the January, 1924 Gibbs Family Bulliten for sale on Ebay. She sent me images of one of the articles which changes some of the information I had for this family line. ------ Offered is a GIBBS FAMILY BULLETIN published in 1924. The feature arcticle is about Orlando Fish GIBBS, son of Lyman and Clarissa FISH GIBBS. Orlando married Marietta GIBBS, daughter of Linus and Polly SACKETT GIBBS. The article is written by their daughter. ------ [From: GIBBS FAMILY BULLETIN #4; January 1924] 35 Orlando Fish and Marietta Gibbs by Clara Josephine Gibbs Lorimer It is a great pleasure to be with you this afternoon I assure you, for I love Blandford for its wondrous beauty, its hills with verdure clad, its lovely inland lakes, its clear skies and balmy atmosphere, but most of all I love it for having given to my parents of such sterling worth and lofty aspirations; here they both grew to manhood and womanhood and passed the early years of their married life, acquiring amist these environments the foundation for the noble characteristics that their later lives developed. My father was a Gibbs, my mother was a Gibbs, consequently I am very proud of the Gibbs family, while not having given to the world a president or a preacher of renown, has always borne the reputation of being substantial and dependable .. and to be known as a member of the Gibbs Family was to be accepted as something worthwhile in the home and business world whenever one might chance to be. My father, Orlando Fish Gibbs, was born on what used to be known as Waite Hill, a lovely spot overlooking the pend and village of North Blandford; he was the son of Lyman and Clarissa Fish Gibbs and in the early days of the town his father was one of the celebrated men of the vicinity as he was postmaster of the town twenty-one years. 36 justice of the peace twenty-nine years and in 1831 was a State representative. He was a great student and spent very much of his spare time in reading worthwhile literature and so was considered the best posted man on all questions that came up for discussion to be found anywhere around this vicinity. He had a general sore and paper mill in North Blandford, which was then a flourishing manufacturing center, and when my father grew to manhood he stepped into his father's place as manager of these two properties and remained there until a panic struck the country and by the failure of the business house in Boston that handled their paper they were crippled financially and compelled to close out the business altogether. My mother, Marietta Gibbs, was a daughter of Linus Gibbs and Polly Sackett Gibbs, and was born on a farm across the street from the place now occupied by Mrs. Dexter Loring and her daughter May, and adjoining on the north the farm of Mr. Frank N. Gibbs, a beautiful spot in summer but bleak and cold in winter, as my mother used to tell us when we were complaining of the cold in Evanston. She belonged to a large family, seven daughters and four sons, and as she was the sixth child there were five older and five younger than herself. The boys were younger than the girls and so the girls had to help with the farm work and I have often heard my mother tell how she had to get up at four thirty every morning and milk four or five cows before breakfast; the house was loosely built and in winter the snow would drift in and very often she would have to wade through little snowdrifts in her bare feet before she could get into her stockings and shoes. After her morning work was done she walked about a mile and a half to school every day, rain or shine, and from all I can learn was usually at the head of all her classes. She wanted to fit herself for a teacher and so supplemented the learning acquired in Blandford schools by attendance at what was then known as one of the finest finishing schools in Western Massachusetts, Willistan Seminary in Easthampton. After finishing here she taught for a long time in Russell, but how long I never heard her say and there is no one living now who can inform me on the subject. When my father and mother reached the age of twenty six they were married in the beautiful month of May and went to housekeeping in the little white house beside the bridge in North Blandford destroyed by the Springfield Water Company after they acquired possession of most of the little village. They lived there five or six years and then moved across the bridge into what was then known as the Sprague House where they remained until my father could again establish himself in business and make a suitable living for us elsewhere. He went to work for Mr. Burdon Bill of Springfield selling books by subscription and was so successful in gaining subscribers for his publications that in the course of two or three years he was offered the general agency of all books published by Mr. Bill if he would go to Chicago and establish a branch house. He accepted the offer gladly and located in Chicago on Clark Street near Madison where he did a flourishing business, even better than he anticipated, and in a short time was able to bring his family west. 37 He did not like the idea of bringing up his children in a large city and so chose Evanston for a home, as it was accessible to Chicago and at the same time had educational advantages such as few small towns could boast of at that time. The first three or four years of our stay in Evanston we lived in a rented home, but then my father bought a tract of seventeen and a half acres at $175 per acre in what is now the heart of Evanston and erected a house on the northwest corner of it, in which he lived the balance of his life; in fact, it passed out of the family only last year -- fifteen years after his death. Shortly after he bought this tract a boom struck the town and he subdivided all the he had not reserved for the home site and sold most of off at high prices, thus laying the foundation for the substantial fortune h e afterwards acquired. When he subdivided this tract he deeded to the city a strip twenty-three and one-half feet wide across the entire length of it to be used as a street; the owner of the property adjacent to it in the north deeded an equal amount and so the city acquired a nice wide street form Chicago Avenue to the Lake. It was named Lee Street in honor of General Lee of Civil War fame. Our nearest railroad station was about a mile away at Davis Street and so my father went to the President of the Chicago & North-Western Railroad and after a good deal of pressure succeeded in getting a station within a short distance of his property and that, of course, made it more accessible and consequently more salable. About this time my father was also actively interested in civic affairs and in assisting struggling churches, especially the First and Second Presbyterian Churches when they were erecting their church edifices. Evanston at that time was a small village of less than tewnty-five hundred inhabitants and those who had money had to put their hands in their pockets pretty deep sometimes in order that these necessary improvements could be made, and my father was one who was always ready to do his share towards making his home town attractive and consequently a better place to live and bring up his family. While my father was looking after the wherewithal to keep the family pot boiling and assisting in civic affairs my mother was looking after the home and attending to the education of her children -- and she was an inspiration in this direction as most good mothers are; it was the great ambition of her life that her children should be well educated and she instilled into us from early childhood the desire for a high place in this world of ours, so far as an education could fit us. After finishing the graded school we all attended the North Western University and my older brother and myself graduated with honors. My sister had a wonderful talent for art and left school before graduation to take a course in the Art Institute of Chicago, where she made great progress until obliged by sickness to give up her work for the time being, but resumed it later on. My younger brother liking business better than his books could not be inspired to wait until after graduation to follow out his inclination and so fitted himself for his life work 38 without a higher education my mother coveted for him, much to her regret. Owing to my mother's sweet, amiable disposition our home life was almost ideal you might say; for when there was any friction in the family she always stood ready to pour oil on the troubled water and smooth everything out in such a way that in short time it was forgotten entirely by both sides to the controversy. I can never remember to have heard my father and mother quarrel -- they never agreed on every subject, but each would express his and her opinion, talk it over and then decide as to the best course to pursue and the one who gave u[ never cherished any resentment whatever, as some people seem to do if their opinion is not always accepted as decisive. Since deciding to write this article it was my good fortune to come across in Chicago Evening Post a poem written by Edgar A. Guest, entitled "A Prayer", that I think just seems to fit my mother's idea of life and I am going to quote it, feeling sure that if she did not offer the prayer in so many words she must have thought it daily or she could not have lived such a beautiful life as she did without a murmur or complaint, ayways[sic] sunny, always sweet and lovable. A Prayer Lord, let me do my part With courage and a willing heart, Open my eyes that I may see However dark the day may be. However rough the road I fare, The purpose of the cross I bear. Lord, let me wake when morning breads Undaunted by my old mistakes. Let me arise as comes the son Glad for the task that must be done, Rejoicing I have strength to give Some beauty to the life I live. Lord, let me hear the kindlier things, The morning song the robin sings, The laughter of the children near, Their merry whisperings in my ear, My neighbor's greeting at the gate, Let these shut out the speech of hate. Lord, let me see the beauty here, The sky above me bright and clear, The smile upon a friendly face, The charm of health and all its grace, The roses blooming everywhere In spite of hurt and grief and care. Lord, strengthen me that I may keep My faith, tho bitterly I weep. 39 Grant me undaunted to remain Thru every storm of care and pain. Lord, let me do my little part With courage and a willing heart. A beautiful life is a great legacy to leave to a family and my sister and I both appreciate our good fortune in having such good parents far more than any other legacy they could possibly have left us. They have gone, but the example they set us will never be forgotten but will live in memory as long as life shall last -- and not only in our memory but in the memories of all those who knew them intimately will it be a sweet savor, never to be forgotten. They were lovers all through their married life and in death were divided by the short period of thirty hours. They were buried in the same grave on a beautiful day in March, the twenty-first of the month 1907; a regular June day with birds singing all about, the air balmy and genial, while overhead the sun shone brightly as if our Heavenly Father was pouring a benediction on the scene. One of our friends when returning from the cemetery said: "I cannot believe I have been to a funeral -- it seemed more like a pretty wedding:' and son, in sense, it was, for they were reunited in Heaven never more to be separated but to bask in the sunlight of God's love throughout eternity. Although these two people have passed on into the great beyond they will always be remembered here on earth by those who knew them intimately for the sweet simplicity and beauty of their lives and their unselfish devotion to one another. Wealth, position and outside show are mere trappings and are soon forgotten, but a beautiful life on account of its rarity shines out as brightly as a lighthouse in a dark and stormy night and gives us just a glimpse of what Heaven may possibly be like -- or what this earth would be like if everybody lived a sweet, simple and Christ like life. Judged from this standpoint the lives of my father and mother were truly successful and a great heritage to their family and friends and it affords me great pleasure to offer this testimony to the members of the Gibbs Family who never had the pleasure of knowing them while living and to assure them that they were certainly a credit to them in every way and reflected honor on the name. Clara Josephine Gibbs Lorimer (Mrs. Robert Lorimer)