Category: Writings of WDS II


My Earliest American Relatives

Earliest dates of relatives in America

*

My mother’s family Florida last names:

Davis (Scotch-Irish, NY, PA) Loren – 1800s

Maestre / Masters (Spanish Minorcan) Pedro – 1750s

Manucy (Italian-Spanish Minorcan) Marcos Manusi – 1750s

*

My father’s family New England last names:

Walton (English) William – 1650s

Danforth (English) Thomas – 1650s

Stowell (English) Samuel Herrick – 1650s

Artist, Architect, and Mayor of Harpers Ferry

Trip-Kip cover

Kip was born ‘Walton Danforth Stowell’ in Massachusetts. He lived a long life as an artist, architect, and politician; settling in Harpers Ferry, WV. This biography spans 73 years of Kip’s life, from 1936-2009; and is a summary of people, places, and art related to him. As an architect he worked for the National Park Service, but also maintained private practice. Kip loved entertaining people, and was loved for his enthusiasm for design. Among his most famous designs are the Charles Town War Memorial, Turf Race Track Hotel, Bolivar Community Center, and Harpers Ferry Town Hall. His greatest contributions to Historic Preservation may have been to protect the Town of Harpers Ferry and the Peter Burr House for all time and for all people. Kip saw Architecture as Art you live in; Sculpture that provides shelter.

Please purchase Kip’s Biography as sales help to preserve his legacy:

Paperback book on Amazon

Kindle Ebook on Amazon

My Ideal Day

wake up, wash face, sit and meditate

Breakfast:cereal, eggs, toast or oatmeal, donut, sausage; and Coffee and OJ

Listen to NPR, read and study by taking notes on Fantasy, Science, and Religion books

Listen to my own Music, play a computer game

Exercise: 40+ situps (or crunches), 20+ pushups (or pullups) average

Lunch: Tomato or Cucumber Sandwich, potatoes, cheese, smoothie, juice

walk, hike, jog; sport; garden work

write books, articles, poems

communicate with several people

take care of business

Dinner: pizza or pasta, stir fry, chocolate, alcohol

Medication

watch some Red Dwarf, Robin Hood, Dr Who, Super Hero Cartoons, Heman, Thundercats, GI Joe

Memoir – December 2013

Thanksgiving – Christmas Dog Bite

Week 3 of dog bite still hurts bad. Bruise is far worse than the teeth marks in this case, because it bit through my pants and pulled the skin and tendons away from my bone. Now i know for sure when a dog is acting mean or nervous, always take it seriously because all dogs can bite, and it should not be taken lightly. It also does not matter if you are trying to be nice to the dog, if it is mentally messed up. Otherwise all else is well.

9/11 Apocalyptic Furvor

Regarding 9/11 – On Sept. 11, 2001 i was in Montana with a friend when we saw on the news the towers fall. I remember thinking it could be the end of America as we knew it, in a matter of days. It took me 4 years before i was able to live without feeling that way as much. The last time i really felt it was at 2006 military Basic Training, when we were excluded from outside news under martial law.

People were duct-taping their windows, thinking about bomb shelters, and basically feeling helpless under the threat announced by the government and media concerning ‘new world order’ terrorism. The week after 9/11 my only advice to my parents back in WV was “head for the hills”.

Tristate Mentors (concept)

Tristate Mentors Concept Proposal for Grants

This month I founded ‘Harpers Ferry Mentors’ for low income families & unemployed neighbors. This project is to expand upon local area efforts underway now. The goal is to fund grassroots teaching, learning, and community spirit in the Tristate area (WV, VA, MD). I am doing this for the same reason I do all my projects (see SCOD), because it is how I choose to live as a Veteran Environmental Architect with a Masters Degree.

Tristate Mentors will work with local teachers and professors around the USA to empower the human children of Earth (of all ages and abilities) to be cooperative partners in a progressive future. Tristate Mentors will build from alternative networks established by SCOD (Sustainable Cooperative for Organic Development) and Harpers Ferry Mentors; to raise awareness of patterns and cycles of life that have various values, share information and knowledge about various subjects, and encourage wise decision making skills. Mentor wisdom will aid children in utilizing their awareness and knowledge through-out the rest of their lives. Mentors will teach compassionate ethics, environmental sustainability, community consciousness, individual wellness, social justice, and multi-culturalism regarding various common subjects.

I have always been extremely passionate about these issues because of my own education, so I am convinced that if others know what I know, there would be more of us.

The Tristate Mentor project will use multimedia, but will primarily be old-school tutoring. The focus of the project will be paying and giving gifts to students and adult teachers, to sit down with eachother and share what they know. The mutual exchange between mentor and student will focus on positive aspects of progressive living (compassionate ethics, environmental sustainability, community consciousness, individual wellness, social justice, and multi-culturalism). The subjects taught will be Reading, Mathematics, Sciences, Social Studies, Local Regional History, US History, World History, Physical Fitness, Psychology, Philosophy, Visual Arts, Video Film-making 101, Performing Arts, Architecture, Art History, Wood Working, Drawing, Gardening, Harpers Ferry History, Martial Arts, Musical Arts,

and more….

To teach others Tristate Mentors must be FREE and AVAILABLE at least to the poorest members of our communities. When students and mentors get gifts and money, they will promote these values. Tristate Mentors can potentially reach thousands of people, and will affect hundreds directly. Since 2000 I have been building up to this point.

Conclusion:

WITHOUT GRANTS, MENTORS CANNOT TEACH FOR FREE OR EVEN TRADE. Exceptions include barter gifts of $20 an hour utilitarian equivalents like $20 in gasoline, $20 in something else agreed on but reserve right to decline unless the tutoring is for a life-saving subject.

My childhood friend, Fritz, had a Grandfather named Ganst (short for Ganstas), and a Grandmother named Ganny. Ganst was Mayor of Harpers Ferry; but he found time to play games and tell stories with us kids. Although I was not related to Fritz, these neighbors were like family to me; because my own grandparents had lived far away, and all but one had passed away; in fact all of my family relatives lived far away. We had neighborhood parties, and everyone had a lot of fun back then.

Fritz always loved vehicles, he could name any car on the road; and we often played many games involving ‘driving’. We both loved ghosts and monsters; and Ganst was always willing to play the ‘monster’ that chased us around the neighborhood, yards, and houses; in a sort of horror hide-and-go-seek. It was amazingly fun!

One evening Fritz and I had just watched the movie Amityville Horror, at his house. We had wandered around his mansion and property; running, playing, and even going so far as Harper Cemetery, and the old town well, by the junk car parts and old VW Beetle covered in ivy vines. Now his mother, Freddie told us to get in the jeep (Cherokee) and she would drive us up the street to Ganny and Ganstas house.

We knew that visits with Ganst meant playing ‘Monster’, and hearing spooky mysterious stories. Playing Monster was (as I said) like hide-and-go-seek, but Ganst would make monster sounds, and we hid and ran in terror. Sometimes we had to attack the monster, because he had found or caught us. But no amount of hitting, punching, kicking, or biting would stop the Ganst the Monster for very long. Although sometimes we would land a good strike, and we would hear “Ouch, dammit you little shits!” or something like that, which was as close to victory as it got! There was a real thrill from the fear I felt hearing the monster noises, voices, and being pursued and gripped by a giant white polar-bear (or whatever else we pictured him as)!!

Time playing with Ganst was one of our favorite things to do in town, besides exploring, messing with toys, and watching movies. We also loved stuffed animals. Fritz had a favorite one that he kept with him as a ‘security blanket’, named Clowny. We both had enough stuffed animals that sometimes we slept in piles of them. When we grew up we knew we would be ghost-busters, so we did what we could with what we had at the time.

Ganst was in his back yard, watering the lawn, plants, and flowers with the hose. We begged the mighty Ganstas to tell us a story. Ganst said “Oh you don’t want to hear a story do you!?” And we would say “Yes, yes please!!” And so he would say “The Ganstas will now tell you a story. Are you ready to listen?”

And so our story began…

Fritz has a four wheeler, and Walton has a three wheeler. They are driving down the dark highway at night. It starts to rain. Lightning strikes, and thunder booms!! Soon they come to the edge of a cliff, overlooking a huge sprawling Haunted Mansion. They decide to race down the cliff, and up a jump on the other side of the cliff. They full-throttle their vehicles!

They woosh down the slope, and pop up on the other side. Clowny goes flying high above their vehicles, and suddenly the ramp opens up under the boys, and a Giant Coo-coo (Cuckoo) bird swoops in and nabs Clowny! The bird carries Clowny up and away, before the boys can do anything! The Coo-coo bird then flies into the highest tower of the Haunted Mansion. Fritz and Walton fall into the opening in the ramp. The pitfall becomes a slope underground, leading towards the basement of the Haunted Mansion.

The boys manage to regain control of their steering, and the underground slope levels out into a long tunnel. The tunnel is miles long, so they drive and drive. Their headlights work well, and they avoid traps of all kinds; dodging this way, and that. They come to a parking garage, and come to a halt. They stop their vehicles, and turn off their ignitions. Using their flashlights, they find a set of old stairs.

Eventually they climb all the way up the old stairs to the Mansion. The see a closed hatch above them, and hear a rocking-chair rocking above them, and a cold wind blew past them. Then the strangest thing happens! An old lady in white descends the stairs, and she passes right through them!! “A ghost!!!” They yell, and push open the trap-door hatch quickly, and rush into the front hall of the Mansion.

All the windows are boarded up, and there is a thick layer of dust and cobwebs on all the antique furniture. Walton sees a stairwell leading to the high tower, but Fritz stares frozen in terror, as he spies a Coo-coo Clock on the wall; and it is about to strike Midnight!!!

The tiny arms click into place, and the small clock chimes. The doors swing open on the clock, and the enormous Coo-coo bird that stole Clowny comes out! The giant bird flies out towards the boys, with a dreadful cry; “Cuck-coo Kuck-koo”!! The boys do not stop to think about how such a large bird could fit in such a small clock; they run and scream for their lives!

While Fritz is busy being chased around the house, Walton hides and looks at the Coo-coo clock. The doors on it are still open, and Walton is small enough to fit inside. So carefully, he sneaks from behind some curtains, and climbs onto a chair to reach the clock. Once inside the clock, he realizes it is bigger on the inside, than on the outside. Inside the clock is a large nest, with many stolen items; including Clowny! So grabbing Clowny, Walton climbs back out of the clock, and calls to Fritz.

Hey Fritz! Jump down into the trap door, I have Clowny!” Walton shouts. Fritz is relieved to hear that, as the Coo-coo bird nips his sweater. “Let’s get out of here!! The front door is locked from the outside, I already checked it!” So they jump back down the hatch, as the Coo-coo pecks after them. As they tumble down the steps to the parking lot, they hear the echoes behind them; “Coo-coo Coo-coo”!

They had gotten Clowny from the old Coo-coo Clock, so they run back to their vehicles in the basement, to try to drive back the way they came, and escape. Fritz and Walton start their vehicles, ‘vroom, vroom’; and begin driving back through the tunnel. All the while they hear the Coo-coo bird coming behind them “Coo-coo Coo-Koo”!

The tunnel begins to slope upwards again. Fritz floors it; petal to the metal! Walton floors it! ‘VROOOOM! VROOOOOOOM!’ The slope gets steeper, and steeper. The floor becomes a wall, and they are now driving straight up the wall! They make it out of the pit, just as the giant Coo-coo bird swoops from out of the darkness!!! The ramp opening closes, but the kids have made it out. They drive up the canyon road to safety, and the boys go home to bed. Some nights they still hear the echo “Coo-coo Coo-coo!”

The End

0131121523

I was brainwashed by society, schools, and parents that I should go to the most expensive college, and there were no other choices; just as they had been brainwashed before me. So I accepted the loans, forcing my family to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars, with very little financial return. Here is my life story, and before you judge me, know that I am convinced I have made the best mistakes and choices that I could, and I am very proud of the friends and experiences I have earned.

I got a Masters in Architecture, but when I graduated I tried to work at various firms (applying to dozens), and realized I was not the type of person to be satisfied with office jobs, as I found no bosses or jobs that fit me or that I could fit into for longer than a year at a time, without significant time off for adventuring and exploring my own interests.

I was always more of an artist and writer, so I picked my father’s career of architecture to bond with him, and provide a challenge as it was a combination that was the most difficult major I could find that fit my talents and I was interested in. I worked with him for years on and off afterwards, earning only several hundred dollars annually, with additional jobs, sometimes 5 at a time.

I was happiest teaching with my father at a local college, but as an adjunct they cruelly cut our classes completely after a year, simply because the department heads were jealous of our success and popularity with the students, and did not care about us. As adjuncts it was legal, although unjust. That is when I had to decide if I were going to go bankrupt to live in the woods with my homeless friend Allen, or doing something else drastic.

I was tired of struggling between jobs, none of which I seemed to fit; so I joined the US Air Force, for a secure pay check. After 5 years of sacrificing my ethics and spiritual self, I left as a conscientious objector to war, and have never been happier in my adult life. For one thing, I had married a great and loving partner, and I gave up trying to earn more when it was sacrificing my own mental well-being. I realized if I reduced my bills as low as possible, I was more content because I was able to work on my own projects. I pay my bills as a landscaper, landlord, gardener, custodian, and archivist for my family property and house; so I work for my mother, and am an occasional consultant for neighbors (which rarely pays). I often trade services and goods with willing neighbors.

To me this way of life fits my needs and circumstances, in many ways better than I can ever imagine other ‘regular’ jobs doing. Therefore I welcome others to try to not bully other people to ‘try and get a better job’, or not even acknowledge that people have jobs at all, when in fact they often do have jobs. Jobs and careers are not always conventional. If you can pay your bills, or have them covered by a benefactor, and you are not hurting anyone, and you are best fitted for doing work that does not pay very much; that is ok. In fact it might even be good, and life fulfilling. If people get high paying jobs, good for them; but if they do not want to do so for various reasons, perhaps they should not; and I say stop pressuring them and check your own stress.

I have taken a vow that includes poverty or wealth, that I shall be as content as I can be with a life that makes me happy.

(this essay was sent to Money Marketplace on NPR)

The Unique Weirdness Beyond the Strange Boundary

by Walton Stowell

 Edgar Allen Poe

Edgar Allan Poe, one of America’s greatest poets, short-story writers, and literary critics; wrote such famous stories as The Raven, The Masque of the Red Death, The Black Cat, The Tell-Tale Heart, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Cask of Amontillado, and The Fall of the House of Usher. In most of his works, Poe used first-person narrative to pull the reader into a weird, and strange world; where the reader is forced to use their powers of deduction. The reader must make their own way through the mystical and gothic-romantic atmosphere.

Taken from The Haunted Palace:

And all with pearl and ruby glowing, was the fair palace door; through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, and sparkling evermore, a troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty was but to sing, in voices of surprising beauty, the wit and wisdom of their King.”

Born in poverty in Boston, January 19, 1809; dying under unfortunate circumstances in Baltimore, October 7, 1849; Poe’s whole literary career of scarcely fifteen years appeared a pitiful struggle for mere substance. His memory was initially malignantly misrepresented by his earliest biographer, Griswold. Poe the half-starved poet only received $10 for The Raven.

At a young age, Edgar Poe was adopted by John Allan (where Poe’s middle name comes from), and taken from a life of poverty, into an adopted life of luxuries and advantages that having more money could provide. Edgar was spoiled and shown off to strangers.

From his 8th to 13th year, Edgar attended the Manor House School at Stoke-Newington near London, when his adopted family lived in England. Edgar did will in school. Returning to Richmond, Virginia in 1820, Edgar was sent to the school of Professor Joseph Clarke; who said this of the young Poe: “While other boys wrote mere mechanical verses, Poe wrote genuine poetry; the boy was a born poet.” It was also said that Poe was sensitive, tender of heart, and would do anything for a friend; he was void of selfishness.

Here is an example of some of Poe’s short poem work at age 13: “Helen thy beauty is to me, like those Nicean barks of yore; that gently o’er a perfumed sea, the weary way-worn wanderer bore to his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam. Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, thy Naiad airs have brought me home, to the glory that was Greece, and the grandeur that was Rome.”

Poe entered West Point, but obtained a dismissal upon hearing of the birth of a son to his adopted father (who had remarried). This event cut off his expectations as an heir to his adopted father’s estate. When Mr. Allan died, Poe committed himself at once to authorship for his own support. In 1827 Poe published a small volume of poems, which soon ran through three editions, and excited high expectations in the minds of many learned critics, who saw future distinction for the young author.

Edgar Allan Poe wrote this to tell of the sorrow he felt from the loss of this child-wife: “I was a child and she was a child, in a kingdom by the sea; but we loved with a love that was more than love – I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted her and me. And this was the reason that long ago, in this kingdom by the sea; a wind blew out of a cloud, chilling my beautiful Annabel Lee; so that her high-born kinsmen came and bore her away from me, to shut her up in a sepulcher in this kingdom by the sea.”

Poe was a genius with poetry. He had an indescribable oneness with a Shakespearean style with the English language, with a knack for melancholy. He used two great qualities; vigorous minute analysis details, and incredible fantastic imagination. The analysis aspect is needed for plot and setting descriptions using words. The imagination aspect is the vision and feeling that spawns and feeds everything in the story.

Poe chose to focus his power mainly on the dark-side of reality, which extends from the very fringe limits of the probable, to the weirdness of superstitions that are inexplicable and unreal. In his writings he was able to inject a mysterious influence, that is extracted from the shadows by the reader upon reading. Death, fear, and suffering are natural evils, but to dwell on them often seems strange to people; because we are usually encouraged in life to do the opposite. These negative feelings that his writing evoke, are almost mathematically bizarre, compared to our mundane literature. Poe’s writing are mystical.

Poe as a maverick, seemed to have tapped into an immortal pulse. Often our imagination is left to finish the picture that he started in his tales. The reader is called upon to settle endings, which are quite unsettling. Creativity is allowed freedom in his work, beyond any superficial boundary. Our consciousness and subconsciousness are challenged to meet, and settle their differences. Human morbidity is a truth that resonates within us, hidden by our fears. His monsters are demons of humanity; physically and mentally. Facing evil and danger is thrilling.

His poem, The Raven, was about his own life. Poe was the master of that bird. The bird was a voice in his head. His consciousness is the main character that tries to understand why the bird is saying “Evermore.” The gloomy solemness, and frantic repetition is intriguing as evidence of a peculiar intellect. Despite the gloom, despite the eerie strangeness, there was also a basis in goodness and normality.

Before his second wedding, Poe stopped in Baltimore for a few days. The events that followed are mysterious, but Poe was found lying outside a voting place on October 3, 1849. He died in a hospital bed four days later, while in a coma. Poe never woke up, and his killer remains unknown.

Behind the melancholy, there was some humility, and a willingness to preserve belief in another’s friendship and love. There is even gratitude for cordial friendship, in characters. Many events were grotesque, but his brilliant detail and romantic prose off-set much of the horror. Poe lived between William Shakespeare and Stephen King, not only in time period, but also in linguistic style. After Elizabethan England, and before modern America, he lived from 1809 to 1849. William Winter’s poem, read at the dedication for the monument to Poe in 1885:

Edgar Allan Poe;

He was the voice of beauty, and of woe.

Passion and mystery and the dread unknown;

Pure as the mountains of perpetual snow,

Cold as the icy winds that round them moan,

Dark as the caves where in earth, thunders groan,

Wild as the tempests of the upper sky,

Sweet as the faint, far-off celestial tone of

angel whispers, fluttering from on high,

And tender as loves tear when youth and beauty die.

Lake Sunapee

Biography & Geography based on an English Class assignment in 1989

File0011

There is a place in New England where I went every summer since I was born, until I finished college. The name of it is Lake Sunapee, New Hampshire. Lake Sunapee is a very unique place; and I have interesting experiences, feelings, and memories associated with it, accumulated over the years. Let me explain to you the rare treasures of Sunapee that are familiar to me; the ideal mountain vistas, the gorgeous and thrilling waters, the beautiful vegetation and geology, the pine scented air, great old boats, and metamorphosis of seasons.

My father (Kip) and his two brothers owned our family cabin, which was really a small house that we affectionately called the ‘Camp’. They inherited Camp from their parents, who originally bought it from their friend, Marion Savory, in 1960. The official title of Camp is ‘Summer Savory’, which is a pun of Marion’s last name, the sweet summer herb, and the adjective savory (morally pleasant). Camp was built in 1903, on a small lakeside wooded lot. Under the seclusion of the trees, while resting in a hammock, you can glance around and see several types of trees, animals, ferns, lichen, moss, and rocks.

The grey rocks are formed so smoothly, they encourage soft relaxation. Every rock is blended into the leaf-covered surroundings, as though arranged by ancient pagans. The rocks are familiar to me, each with their own characteristics. When I was four years old, I named them all. Some look like chairs and tables, some look like animals or vehicles. A large rock I played on by the Camp as a kid, was named ‘Ship Rock’. Most of the rocks are down by the water; Computer Rock, Frog Rock, Boat Rock, etc.

If you follow the path down to the water, you use steps made from the old train-tracks that were on the terrace landing, between the Camp and the Lake. Down by the water’s edge are a series of wharfs and docks. Uncle Chan and his family keep boats, canoes, and other aquatic devices there. Uncle Chan was a police officer on the Lake, and he kept his police boat there too. Uncle Jay did not actively use the Camp, but he had his own place on Great Island, where he had a collection of antique boats.

The clean fresh air in New Hampshire tends to be typical of New England; the wind is dry and cool, with an aroma of pine needles. When it rains, it is often just as beautiful as when it is a clear, warm day. Although thunder storms do knock hillside trees down, perhaps reminding us that nothing is forever. In the Winter the Lake freezes over so thickly, that trucks can drive over it. It can get very cold and windy. Camp was not winterized (insulated), and so we depended on the fireplace and thermal blankets.

In 1989 we went skiing with Uncle Chan. During the Summer I often participated in water sports with Cousin Chip; water skiing, water tubing, and swimming. The State Beach is nearby along the shore. The Beach has nice sand, and usually full of people having fun in the Summer Sun! Near the paddle-boats, there is a secret canal swamp to explore by canoe.

Mount Sunapee sits above, behind the Camp, and looks down upon the Lake. It has ski gondolas, ski slopes, and hiking trails. At the top is Lake Solitude. Other mountains nearby include Kearsarge, Ascutney, and Monadnock. All of the mountains have lush forests, with pine and deciduous trees. It is intriguing to watch the hang-gliders. We had many hiking adventures. On one such adventure, Dad and I hiked up Mount Sunapee without a trail, and got lost; so that by the time we reached the top, it was sunset, and we could barely walk down the ski slopes. Once we got down, we had to hitch-hike to our car on the other side of the mountain. I remember we did find ruins of a cabin on one of the bluffs I mapped out, we would never have seen if we had not gone our own route.

Lake Sunapee itself is a powerful 10 miles long, and at its widest part is 3 miles across. The navy blue-grey waters can be very deep. On Great Island, there are 18 summer cottages. Dad and I annually canoed to Minute Island (the smallest island), and then to Great Island (the largest island). The Native American name ‘Soonippi’ meant “Land of Wild Goose Waters”.

On cold days we sat in front of the stone fireplace, with its twin owl andirons, and roasted marsh-mellows. In the mornings we liked to sit on the porch eating breakfast, and watch the sail-boats and motor-boats plow across the Lake. There are two pleasure cruise ships that circle daily; the Dinner Boat and the Sight-Seeing Boat. One of our favorite things to do, was have my uncles drive us in their boats to go get ice-cream at the harbors. One of Dad’s favorite things was to get in the car, and explore around all day. Other favorites included going to St. Gaudens NHS, or the John Hay Estate NWR. At the Hay Estate, which is directly across the Lake from us, we loved to draw the gardens, and walk to Sunset Hill.

Dad and his brothers sold Camp to Uncle Chan’s daughter Kim, so I am glad that my cousin owns it. In 1989 we had a family reunion that saw more relatives than the Camp had in over 50 years, and we got it on video! The main reason I do not travel there every year anymore, is because of the massive distance. For tranquility and adventure, Sunapee is the place to go though!