Person:Charles Beal (15)

The birth and death of Charles Beal By Stanley Beal

I feel it is time you all know the details of the birth and death on April 2, 1927 of the baby boy who would have been your Uncle Charles if he had lived. Betty and I are the only two left in our family who were here at that time. I had my seventh birthday a month before and Betty was still four. Neither of us suspected anything so we were totally surprised to have a baby brother when we got up that morning. Betty may have been at Aunt Clara’s already as she spent most of that time there with Eileen. I remember Grandmother Morgan holding him and caring for him. He was very tiny. The details of his passing were kept from us for a while. I understand he turned blue and died a few hours later. I was always told it was his heart valve, a “blue baby”. He was born in the same downstairs bedroom at Grandmother Morgan’s where I was born. Betty was born on the farm east of the cemetery before the doctor arrived. Dad and Grandmother Morgan handled things. She made her “debut” in the four poster bed that was Grandmother Morgan’s. That bed has since been handed down to Betty. Aunt Florence had it for several years.

I vividly remember dad bringing new lumber home and building a pine box for the burial. I was there watching him build it. A seven year old knew it was a sad time. He painted it white. Aunt Clara and Grandmother Morgan then lined it with soft cloth making it as attractive as possible for the purpose. Charles was carefully placed in it with a single Calla Lily bloom in his tiny hand. I remember it all too well. I will never forget my mother’s grief and how she cried when he was shown to her for the last time. No undertaker was present at all but Rev. Prentis conducted a graveside service. Only family was there and went to the cemetery. I remember I rode in Uncle Jesse’s car along with Grandad Morgan and I forget the others. It was a rainy and chilly day. Uncle Paul, then eighteen, and his friend, Earl Johnson, were the bearers. They lowered the little pine box into the ground using the lines from a harness from one of the faithful draft horses of the day. These mental pictures will be with me the rest of my days.

Our mother remained in bed for some weeks after before becoming well enough to return home. Betty continued to stay at Aunt Clara’s but would come occasionally when they came. She never was one to be around sick people very much. I can still recall her standing in the bedroom door while her mother begged her to come closer. She eventually did but it took some coaxing. Mother ached to get a hold of her and give her a big hug while she remained quite aloof to it all. I was in the first grade so had to stay there and go to school. I rode with some high school kids in a model T Ford to school. Eva Lu Mitchell drove. Katherine Horstman and Mickey Morgan rode with her. There was no school bus north or east of Round Lake at that time. That area was not into the consolidation yet.

Dad would drive to the farm and work each day and then return to Grandmother Morgan’s at night. They really had a houseful. I am told I would get a bit ornery at times and she did slap me once, so I must have. I shouldn’t have told that, should I?

Our folks still had the faithful dog they called Carlo. They give him credit for rescuing me many times from my adventurous wanderings out exploring who knows where. I am told Ross Anderson brought me home from the grain field one time when I was still only two. I am also told Dad built a fence for me. One evening after Dad had come over to be with Mom, someone went outside and Carlo had followed Dad over there. They let him into the bedroom to see Mom and he seemed satisfied. He didn’t come over again.

Obituary for Charles: The infant son of Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Beal passed away last Saturday morning after a brief life of only a few hours. Funeral services were held Sunday forenoon, with services at the house and internment was made in the local cemetery. Sometimes in the April kissed springtime, the little flower we welcome as a snowdrop droops and dies, but its delicate face has inspired us to hope, and perfumed our life with toughts of purity. May it be even so with the tiny blossom of humanity that came to Mr. and Mrs. Beal, to tarry only so short a time. The sympathy of their many friends is with them.

Tombstone of Charles Beal at Round Lake Cemetery, MN