Marilyn Virginia Traylor Syx was the third child of Ira Kanada Traylor and his wife Bessie Rebecca (Grauser) Traylor born on November 16, 1929, Dayton, Montgomery Co, Ohio, just three weeks after the start of “The Great Depression” She had three brothers, Harrison C., Arthur B. and Frederick E. Traylor. She married the love of her life Kenneth Paul Syx on June 12, 1948. They were married 36 yrs before Kenny passed away November 11, 1984 from lung cancer. They had four children, Karen Lee Syx-Johnson, Kenneth R (Rick), John P (Jack) and Brian K. Syx. Eight grandchildren, Stephanie R Syx-Perry and Shannon M Syx, John P, Syx, Stacey L Johnson-Haines-Blackmore, Casey L Johnson and Amy L Johnson, Kenny D and Tyler J Syx. Eleven great-grandchildren, Jessica Defelice, Tori Hoffman, Nicholas (Nick) Syx, Alyssa M. Haines-Hay, Thad Q. Haines, Kaylee A. Johnson, Kendra N. Johnson, Dakota L. Johnson,Tyson L. Johnson, Dawson M, Parker and Jaxon P. May. Two step great grandchildren, Kyle McCoppin-Syx and Elizabeth (Libby) Koerper. Five great-great grandchildren, Makayla I.M. Miller, Michael Everett Hay, Penelope (Penny) C. Hay, Serenity and Renn. One step great-great grandson River Stutz.
This was part of Marilyn's Eulogy written by her daughter Karen L. Syx-Johnson and read by Pastor Kevin Moehn
Marilyn's top priority were her children and family. She was kind, compassionate and fiercely protective of her loved ones. But if you did something wrong she had no qualms to straighten you out. She loved all pets, and three of her last beloved dogs, Benji, Kelly and Marley are with her now. Marilyn grew up poor during the great depression and material things weren't important to her. She was a stay at home Mom and even when times were tough, her children always had clothes on their backs and food on the table. She was a little bit of a hoarder, she never wasted anything and saved everything because her theory was you never know when you might need something. Marilyn was the information hot line for all family and friends. Whether it for was what was happening with family events or if you needed family history. One of her main passions has been her genealogy research for over 60 years and she had no problem sharing that research with anyone who was interested. She's had people from all over the country contacting her for information. Marilyn was an avid reader, loved to do all and any crafts, she was always up for trying something new. She loved doing needlework. After retiring from Miami Valley Hospital where she had been the secretary to the Director of School of Nursing and later working at the Birthing Center. After retiring she kept pretty busy with all her activities, including membership to the Beavercreek and Fairborn Senior Citizens Centers and a member of the Red Hats both in Beavercreek and Fairborn. She was able to take quite a few day trips with her sister-in-law Maryalice Traylor and her best friend Mickey Gifford, both whom have long passed away.
Now the are united again. I am sure all her family and friends were at the pearly gates welcoming her home. We have all been blessed to have her in our lives as long as we have. She will be greatly missed by all who love her.
MARILYN WROTE HER OWN BIOGRAPHY
On December 25, 2010, Marilyn gave each of her four children a binder full of her life stories, pictures and memories to keep for future generations. I cherish that book and I am so thankful. I only hope I can do the same for my children. Below you will find some excerpts from that book.
THANKSGIVING MEMORY
Back during the "great depression years" (1934-1939) my mom would take us kids to the Thanksgiving Day parade in Dayton. We would walk from Hulbert Street and Hamilton Avenue (close to the Linden Avenue overhead by the old Master Electric Building) to the big stone wall around the old Miami Valley Hospital which was across the street from the Montgomery County Fairgrounds. That was quite a walk, but we had no money to ride the street cars.(it cost 3 cents for kids and a nickle for adults) The parade started at the fairgrounds and we would sit on the wall and watch it pass. Santa Claus and his reindeer were last and we would walk (at times we had to run to keep up) beside it on the sidewalk, up North Main Street to Rikes and watch Santa walk up the ladder to the top of the building. They would have a firetruck with its long ladder stationed down on Main Street in front of the store. We then knew Santa was officially in our vicinity, watching our behavior, and we better start being good. We would then walk home, where mom would finish our meager Thanksgiving dinner (never a turkey) I can't remember what we had, but my mom was a superb cook, one who could make a srumptious meal from nothing. Sometimes we were invited to my aunt and uncles, as they owned a small notions store (The Golden Rule) on East Fifth Street and were much more financially well-off then my family. We were on welfare but my dad had to work from morning til night at his WPA job in order to qualify for any benefits. That should be the rule today. We ate a lot of beans and cornmeal mush during that time, but that food tasted so good and we appreciated it so much more than anything I now prepare. I remember holding onto my dad's hand as we stood in the soup line down by the overhead on East Fifth Street in what is now Oregon Village. I also remember one year, my dad got a bonus for serving in World War 1, and he bought a live duck to fatten up for Thanksgiving and us kids tied a rope to its neck and would walk it around the neighborhood. Yes, we got so attached to it that we couldn't think about having it for dinner. My dad finally took it out to Eaton, Ohio where my uncle Phillip had a farm. Such good memories
THE HULBERT STREET HOUSE:
What I remember is that we lived in a 3-room house at 6 Hulbert Street at the corner of Hamilton Avenue in the east end of Dayton, Ohio, right across from the Pennsylvania railroad tracks. This was in the 1930's. On the other side of the tracks were a couple of coal-yards. Living so close to them was a great advantage for my mother as she always knew before the other neighbors, when the trains were delivering a new load of coal to the coal yards. When we kids came home from school, she would have a bushel basket ready for each of us because there would be a lot of coal that was dropped on the tracks during the delivery process that was free for the taking. She would tell us to pick up the biggest pieces and as much as we could find, before the other neighborhood kids got them. (sooner or later other kids would show up with their baskets) After we brought our baskets home (my 2 older brothers always had to carry mine since I was only seven or eight. I would stand there and guard my basket with my life while I waited for them to return from taking theirs home.) Mom would send us back to fill our baskets with what she called "slack" This, she would save until we ran out of the bigger pieces, because it made a lot of smoke. We had a coal wood stove in the kitchen that Mom cooked on when she had food to cook. My mom was a superb cook and she could feed her hungry children out of nothing. Sometimes, we would have hot mush for supper and Mom would pour the left-over mush into a greased pan and fry it for breakfast the next morning. That was so good, and I always looked forward to the fried mush. She made her own syrup with brown sugar and water, to pour over it. In really lean times, maybe we would have nothing more than soda crackers put into a cup of hot tea, and ate with a spoon. Sometimes if there was extra money, or if my brother Babe would go junking as he loved to do, Mom would let us get a nickels worth of ginger snaps to be divided up between us. If Babe had been really successful with his junking, maybe we could have a bottle of Pepsi (Cokes were too small.) I have a couple of pieces of 'carnival glass' that I treasure, that was the result of Babe's looking in trash cans in the alleys.
The living room and bedroom were always closed off and so cold in the winter-time. I can still remember how cold it was to go to bed (no PJ's). In zero weather, I remember mom picking up the throw rugs and putting them over the covers on our beds to try to keep us warm. We had no indoor plumbing. There was an out-house and a water hydrant outside that would freeze up in the winter and Dad would have to take hot water out and prime it (in zero weather, priming didn't work and we would have to do without water and conserve what we already had in the house. (no bottled water back then and no money for it, if there was.). The house was wired for electricity, but we couldn't afford to have it turned on. We spent our evenings in the kitchen, sitting around the table, with the light from a coal-oil lamp, doing our homework. My dad had a crystal set and would be listening to "Amos & Andy", "Lum & Abner", or "The Grand Ole Opry." I can remember also standing in the "soup lines" holding onto my dad's hand. When I think back to those lean times, they bring back some of my most cherished memories and I don't ever regret having lived through those tough years. I had great parents who taught us to work for what we expected out of life and that we weren't entitled to a free handout. Even when we were standing in the soup-lines, my dad worked for the WPA to earn that right. They should make those that abuse the system today work for their freebies.
Also, when we lived there, Dad would take my brothers and me out in the country to pick dandelion greens. With a piece of bacon fat and a few potatoes, Mom could make a sumptuous meal which was practically free. We had no car, so our trip to the country consisted of us climbing the railroad bank across from the house and walking the tracks out close to what is Smithville Road today, and at the time was a two-lane country road and called something else. One horrendous Sunday, we came upon a passenger train stopped on the tracks that had hit a car at the crossing. Dad told us kids to look away, but not before I had seen a severed leg on the cow-catcher on the front of the engine or the body parts in the middle of the tracks. I had night-mares about this for quite awhile. I could see the striped piece of pant leg on the leg and the royal blue pieces of fabric on the body parts. I can still visualize this terrible scene after all these almost eighty years.
I only remember having a milkman a short time, probably right after the WWI vets marched on Washington, DC and finally received their promised bonus around 1936 or '37 (almost 20 years after the war ended) I think my dad received around $300.00. I know us kids all got a new outfit. I got a little red Shirley Temple coat with a muff. I didn't care about the coat as much as I cared about the muff! I thought I was the cutest little girl around, whenever I wore it. My brothers would always complain to mom about me when I wore that coat outfit. Anyway, to get back to the milk, I remember my mom letting me lick the cardboard cap on top of the milkbottle that always had a thick coating of cream on it. (No homogenized milk or worry about germs back then.
One morning when our dog, Jack had been in trouble with the dog catcher for not having a license, Mom had him tied to the clothesline with a rope. It was a wire clothesline anchored to a huge tree that my two brothers spent a lot of time during the summer climbing. On this particular day, as Harry, my older brother was coming down out of the tree with his foot on the wire clothesline for support, the dog pulled on it. Harry lost his balance and fell to the ground, screaming. Mom came running out of the house and helped him to the back porch, where he lay writhing in pain. Neither my dad or younger brother, Babe were home at the time. Mom told me to stay by Harry while she went down to the corner market to use their phone to call for help. As I sat beside him, I could see the lower bone in his arm, protruding through his inner elbow and touching his shoulder, and bleeding. The police came right out and took the three of us to Miami Valley Hospital, which was at time located on East Apple Street. Since Mom didn't have time to find someone to leave me with, she had to take me with her, but children weren't allowed in the hospital unless they were a patient. Mom took me outside to the top of a long flight of steps to Apple Street and told me to stay there, which I did. Mom came often to check on me and I spent my time running up and down the steps. I don't remember how we got back home, but I do remember that Harry had to stay in the hospital several days and the injury leaving him with a very huge scar that he carried for the rest of his life as a reminder of that terrible day in his life.
Everything wasn't doom and gloom while we lived there. Dad had a black friend on the west side of Dayton, named Frank Smith who was kind enough, to let Dad use his car, when Dad could afford the gas, to take us to Uncle Phillip's (Dad's brother) farm in Eaton, Ohio. Mom would pack a picnic lunch and we would stop and eat it on the way to the farm. I guess this was done so that we didn't impose on my uncle with five unexpected, hungry family members. There were no telephones to call ahead to tell them we were coming to visit.
The morning of Decoration Day, which is now called Memorial Day, Mom would get our white shoes out and set me out on the so-called back porch with a bottle of Griffin's white shoe polish and let me polish hers and my shoes. You didn't dare wear white shoes before that day. We would get dressed in our Sunday best, which really wasn't the best. Mom even put on her corset and stockings and would have me fasten the back supporters of her corset to the stockings. We would then wait for Aunt Florence and Uncle Cy to pick us up and off we would go to Hillgrove Cemetery in Miamisburg, Ohio, and spend most of the day weeding and decorating the family graves. They always kept a trowel hidden in the fork of a nearby tree, because "it was bad luck" to bring any tools used on the graves home with you.
In the early '90's, my son Jack, (yes the same name as our childhood dog, long story behind that) was passing the Hulbert Street house and noticed it was for sale. When he called to tell me, I said I would love to go inside that house one more time. A few minutes later, Jack called back and said he had an appointment after work the next day with the realtor to look at the house, and best of all, I could go with him. He had told the realtor a big fib, saying that he and his brother were in the construction business and that they were interested in the place for storage. His brother supposedly was out of town and Jack would have to bring his camcorder to tape the inside for him. I didn't feel too bad about this when I found out the realtor had made arrangements for another interested party to look at it at the same time. Oh, the memories that came flooding back, when I stepped inside that house. Nothing much had changed, still no inside plumbing, but a kitchen sink, which wasn't there when we lived there. I don't know the purpose of the sink, with no faucets or plumbing.
I guess no one was interested in buying the place because a few months later, as Jack was passing by again, he saw a wrecking crew there who were happy to give him the old stone step that went into the house. I remember sitting on that step while Mom and Dad tried to stop the awful nose bleeds, I suffered as a child. Jack's son John, (my grandson) helped him bring it to my house in Beavercreek, where it is a step for my back patio. When I sell my home, Jack will take the step. We have also made the tape of the inside of the house into a DVD which I love to look at occasionally. All that's left of 6 Hulbert Street are my memories and a vacant lot.
MCKINLEY AND RUSKIN SCHOOL
I attended McKinley School before it became a boys industrial school. I lived on the corner of Hamilton Avenue and Hulbert Street in 1936 and started the first grade at Ruskin School on McClure Street. That was quite a walk two round trips a day as we came home for lunch. For some reason, I was switched to McKinley School in the second grade. There were two different grades in one classroom and just one teacher teaching both grades. I used to love walking to that school as I passed Bowers Greenhouse on Haynes Street. I would occasionally stop in there and look at the beautiful flowers. We couldn't afford to buy any. What I remember most about that school is they had a player piano in the lobby and the kids would line up in their class groups outside on the playground and march into school as one of the older students played the piano. That seemed to put us into a good mood for the morning. Aftr I got married and had children of my own, I do remember the school burning down as friends of ours lived a few blocks away on Xenia Avenue. When I told them that I had attended that school as a child, they were amazed because they had only remembered it as a boys industrial school. I don't know when it changed from a regular elementary school.
HUFFMAN SCHOOL
I went to Huffman School. I attended during the depression years from 1938-1944. I walked from Commercial Street where the Dayton Post Office now stands. That was quite a long walk and we had to walk it 4 times a day, because we came home for lunch. In the 7th and 8th grade we walked even further one day a week when we went to Franklin School on the corner of Findlay and East Fifth Streets for home ec and manual training. Some of my teachers at Huffman School were Miss Copp, Miss Rockoff, Miss Clark, Miss Thomas, Mrs Ehlen, Miss Sefton and Mr. New was our Health and Gym teacher. Mr. Fredrick was there as principal and I also had Mr. Barnett for General Science. I remember we had a very unruly boy in our class and one time Mr. Barnett picked him up out of his seat and took him out in the coat hall (remember them) and hung him by his shirt on a coat hook and then he went down to get Mr. Fredrick and brought him up to deal with the boy. Can't you just picture a teacher being allowed to do something like that now-a-days. I wish they could. Another thing I remember about Huffman School is the gigantic Christmas tree they put up on the first floor at Christmas time and we would stand around it and sing Christmas carols. I visited it one last time when they invited former students before they made it into a retirement home. I picked up a brick where they were tearing a part of the school building down. Oh what memories Huffman School and Stivers High School hold for me.
BOMBERGER'S POOL
Bomberger was the first pool I attended back in depression days of the 1930's, if we kids could find enough pop or milk bottles to cash in. My mom would only let us go there on Mondays when they changed the water. I hated that because the water was so cold then. Mom always said that it was the community bath tub otherwise and we could get a disease. I do remember that the water became so dirty by the end of the week that you couldn't see the bottom of the pool. It looked like a very muddy river, but I was a kid who didn't pay attention to such things. Still Mom wouldn't give in. I guess she knew she couldn't afford to take us to the doctor if we caught some skin disease. By the '40's, after the depression days, the pool had cleaned up quite a bit and I was allowed to go anytime. BTW, Bomberger Park was is on East Fifth St. across the street from Stivers High School where I graduated in 1948. We used to ride our bikes over to Eastwood Park and go swimming in that pool also, when I was a teenager. I always had to push my bike up 4th street hill, and so many how many times I tried getting a head start, I never made it completely up that hill (my dad bought the rusty bike for $5.00 from a man he worked with and I was so happy to have one) I also remember walking back in the park at Eastwood to a waterfall. Wonderful summer days back then.
MY BROTHERS
I never had any sisters, but I had 3 brothers who are all gone now. My older brother Harry was almost 7 years older than me and was born February 8, 1923. He treated me very mean when I was younger. He once locked me in a dark closet when we lived at 6 Hulbert Street. My mom was outside hanging clothes on the clothesline and I had to stay in there until she came back in the house. My fingers were all scratched up from pounding on the door. I was very afraid of the dark when I was little and he knew it. He was always building model planes and one of them, I fell in love with. He asked me to do something for him one day when we were living in the third floor attic at 209 Commercial Street (that's where the Dayton Post-office now stands) He told me he would give the plane to me when I finished. When I finished with whatever it was, he told me to go stand down in the yard and he would sail the plane out the window to me and I could then have it. What he neglected to tell me is that he was going to light a match to it first. I was so disappointed, and he just laughed about it for several days afterward. He always said I was spoiled because I was the only girl and the baby of the family. I guess he was right. No matter how mean he was to me when I
was little, he made up for when he became older. When he first got a job, I remember him giving me the money to buy a skirt like my friends had. When he was in the service, he always sent me presents, such as handkerchiefs and perfume from Paris, France. He worked at Dayton Power & Light Co as a service man for many years and he stopped by often. He always serviced our appliances for us and helped with our dad when dad was living with me. He was very thorough in everything he did, and never failed to educate us on a what he was doing. He explained the workings of the appliances right down to the minutest detail. If Harry fixed something, we always knew it was done right. He loved airplanes and as a child, he would spend his a days watching them take off and land at the old McCooks Field and Patterson Field. He should have become a pilot. He was a very good artist and he also drew airplanes as a hobby, Harry passed away due to a malignant brain tumor in 1981. He was in a coma for six weeks after surgery, He seemed to be doing alright until his first radiation treatment which killed all the good cells as well as the bad. He was never able to communicate with us after that and lingered on for several months passing away on December 29, 1981.
My other brother Arthur (Babe) was a happy go-lucky kind of guy. He took me to school in the first and second grade. He took my part when our other brother Harry was being mean to me. They would second grade. They would sometimes get into fist fights and I think Harry always came out the winner. Babe would go out and collect a junk and take it to the junk yard so we would have money to go swimming in the summertime. Babe even took the blame when I accidentally broke the land-lady's door window. He taught me how to ride his bike and sent me off down the alley and went into the house. I was depending on him to get me off when I turned around. But I managed to get off. He would let me use his bike whenever I wanted. After he got his first car, he took me down to Wimpys on Third St. for my first hamburger and milk shake, Wimpy's was one of the first drive-in restaurants in Dayton and before he took me, he said "Sis, you're not going to believe this". When he was 17, he talked Mom & Dad into signing for him to join the Navy. He fought in the South Pacific and his ship the USS Wadsworth was attacked many times by the kamikazi suicide dive bombers. He was still only 20 years old when he got out. He had many demons on his back and he became an alcoholic and could never find a peace after his military service. He was my husband's best man when we got married and he let us use his house and car on our wedding night while he and his wife and baby stayed at my parenfs house. He was a welder and a very good one, I'm told by his fellow-workers at the Dayton Power & Light Co. He lost all his jobs due to his dtinking. They couldn't have an alcoholic working on gas lines. He went through two a marriages and many jobs. He would call me and threaten suicide and I would go running. He was working for a company in Indianapolis, IN when he was killed on the job at age 43 on July 12, 1968. He was born April 21 , 1925.
My youngest brother Freddie was born October 13, 1939 and passed away January 31, 1940 at
age 3 months
DURING THE WORLD WAR II
During the war years there was a great camaraderie among the home aunt. It was a very patriotic time. Everything was rationed, meat, sugar, canned goods, shoes, gas, etc. just to name a few. You couldn’t do any traveling because you were only allowed to purchase enough gas to get you back and forth to work.
allowed to purchase enough gas to get you back and forth to work. When the boys came home on furloughs, all the family would contribute a gas ration stamp or two for them to use to visit relatives. My Mom hoarded sugar (which was against the law) in order to make cookies and candy to send to the boys. We could only have 2 pairs of shoes a year. If we wore a hole in the soles of our shoes, we would have to patch them. They had something that they called half-soles and glued them on. Mostly, they didn’t hold up well. You couldn’t buy nylon hose anywhere. Elder & Johnson Dept. Store would publish coupons in the newspaper that you could fill out and send in and a few months later, they would send you a postcard advising when you could come to the
store to buy yours. Mom would send in coupon for both of us. One to a customer and on the day that we could pick our hose up, she-would let me stay home from school to pick them up. You had to be there early because they would run out and you would then have to wait until the next time. The store was at the southwest corner of Fourth and Main Streets in the Reibold Building. The line would be clear down Fourth Street and left on Ludlow Street to Fifth St. It would take forever. We didn’t mind the rationing because that was what we were doing to help our fighting men win the war.
When I lived on Hopeland Street, we were very proud to display in our living room window a banner with 2 blue stars showing that 2 people from this home were serving in WW II. Thank God, none of them were gold. That meant that someone from that household had given their life for our country. There were also many blackouts and air-raid practices during this time. There were air raid wardens for each district and the households could be fined heavily if any lights were found to be on during one of these blackout.
MY BROTHER HARRISON (HARRY) CHARLES TRAYLOR
Harry came home on furlough on his way to France and he and Mary Alice were married on May 6th, 1944 by Mathias Heck, a Justice of the Peace. Mary Alice’s brother Tommy and I were both witnesses for them even though we were only about 14. Mary Alice always talked about this believing that her and Harry were probably not legally married since their witnesses were so young. I always had a tough time convincing her that you didn’t have to be of age to be a witness, just old enough to sign your name. Harry was sent to France to fight the war there. He was in the Quartermaster Corps which was in charge of getting the supplies up front to the fighting men. He was discharged in March of 1946. It was so good to have him back home safe and sound.
MY BROTHER ARTHUR BARRETT (BABE) TRAYLOR
Babe came home on furlough from the Navy in October of 1944 and stayed with us on Hopeland Street until he had to report back to his ship, The USS service very Wadsworth in California where it had been brought in for an over-haul. He was not back in the long when his ship was being attacked by the kamikaze in the war against the Japs in the South Pacific. He ended up in a padded cell on Guam before being transferred to a naval hospital in Corvaliis, Washington. He was there several months being treated for what we thought was battle fatigue. I’m still trying to get his records at this late date to see what his actual trouble was. I have a huge scrapbook about Babe. I gave the original one to his son Clay many years after Babe’s death. I made a copy for myself and his other children. I have added much to mine after being in touch with some of his shipmates. Babe treasured his scrapbook and no matter what else happened in his life, he always made sure that the scrapbook was taken care of. Mom told me when he came home, not to bring his service days up to him because he had
seen his best buddy killed while they were being attacked. I never brought the subject p to him and how I wish I had asked him questions. All that I have discovered after all these years, just doesn’t add up to be the correct story. There are too many conflicting tales. He was discharged in June of 1945 and immediately married Marjie on June 9, 1945 and began his life as a civilian.
Babe and my brother Harry were certainly part of the Greater Generation. We all owe them so much. They had just come through the Great Depression and then had to go off to fight a war. They sacrificed so much for our freedom! it really isn't free.
MY WEDDING DAY
We had been housecleaning all week. My mom & dad had taken a weeks vacation because not only was I getting married on Saturday, June 12, 1948, but I was also graduating from Stivers High School three days before on Wednesday, June 9th. We lived in a double at 163
Church Street and our land lady & land lord Ellen and Albert Vicory and their family lived on the other side at 165 Church Street. Their daughter Helen and I were childhood friends and she and James (Jim) Grant were getting married the same day. Helen had graduated a year before me. Both sides of the house were a flurry of activity the whole week. Kenny and I were getting married at home at 3:30 in the afternoon (Mom said I had to get married with the hands of the clock going up because it was bad luck to get married with the hands going down - she was very superstitious) and Helen and Jim were getting married at 10:00 a.m, at Holy Trinity Church. Dad had spent Friday cleaning the basement because that was where he was going to serve the beer- Mom had spent the week getting the house in order. I helped her when I was available, but I also had a lot going on with Class Day and marching for the juniors and practicing our graduation at the NCR auditorium. But after graduation, she and I worked our fannies off. We got up very early because we had to go to Helen & Jim's wedding. They had a large reception on their side of the house, at which we made a very short appearance, I remember Mom and I Making a hurried visit the the ten-cent store down on Xenia Ave. I don't know what for.
Bower’s Greenhouse delivered the wedding flowers and Evans Bakery delivered the wedding cake that my brother-in-law-to-be, Harold Evans had decorated as a wedding gift to us. Kenny's sister Vema and Harold owned Evans Bakery. As I was upstairs getting ready, Mom sent my sister-in-law Marjie who was married to my brother Babe upstairs to give me 'The talk" about how to keep from getting pregnant, What crude methods we had back then. There were no birth control pills or the like. We got married in the living room and we didn't realize how big Kenny's family was. Everyone was standing because the living room
wasn't very big. As if it wasn't already crowed enough, all the guests at Helen's reception decided to come to my wedding. That was alright because both families were real close and we all knew each other. The wedding ceremony was complete bedlam. People were trying to squeeze into the house and they were standing out in the yard and on the porch. Also one of
Kenny's sisters tried talking Kenny into letting his niece Norma Lou Bryan come in. She was riding a bike up and down the street trying to get a glimpse of the wedding party. Kenny was mad at her and they had had an argument and he wouldn't back down. During the ceremony when it came time to put the ring on my finger, Kenny grabbed my right hand instead of my left and wouldn't let go. I kept trying to pull my hand away from, but he wouldn't let go. Finally the minister told him he had the wrong hand and everyone got a good laugh out of that.
After the ceremony, Kenny and I had to leave immediately to go downtown to theHighlight Studio at 14 W Fifth St (about where Spaghetti Warehouse is today) to have our wedding picture taken, We had to park about a block away and while we were walking to the
studio, the sky opened up and rained ( so much for the "Happy is the bride that the sun shines on today" bit) My hair was all wet as well as my corsage but we didn't have time to dry off as the studio was waiting to close. When we got back, we got to visit and eat. We didn't get many snap shots, just 2 or 3 but I treasure the one of the two newly wed couples together. We just had our two witnesses. My brother Babe was Kenny’s Best Man and my best friend Barbara
McColgan was my Maid of Honor. We didn't have a car or money to go anywhere that night, so my brother Babe let us use his car and his little house at 1410 Phillips Ave. for our honeymoon night. He and Marjie and their little girl Jeannie would spend the night at my parents We drove out Xenia Pike towards Xenia, Ohio. trying to find a search light that we could see in the sky, but we never did find it, Xenia Pike was the old Route 35 and was nothing more than a 2
lane road. We turned around and went to Babe's house where neither of us could sleep. We finally got out of bed and went down to Mom & Dads where we found all the lights still on and the doors all open and everyone asleep except for my brother Babe who was up at the neighborhood bar, but was supposed to
be taking care of things. Kenny and I cleaned up all the wedding mess and finally got some sleep. In the morning Babe and his family took us to
Indian Lake where we all spent Kenny's and my honeymoon in a one room cabin for three days. We used the $35.00 that Kenny’s sister Vema gave us as a wedding present. Helen and Jim were richer and they went to Niagara Flalls. Kenny & I were just as happy going to Indian Lake, we weren't used to much more. We had each other.
THE BIRTH OF OUR FOUR CHILDREN
Karen Lee Syx was due July 3, 1949. I was certain she would arrive on that day since that was the due date. I was so naive! My childhood friend Helen Vicory -
Grant who was married the same day as me on June 12, 1948 had her baby on July 3, and I was so jealous. I spent the 3rd of July which was Sunday at my mom & dads. Mom had made a great dinner of ham, baked beans, potato salad, cake and dad had made a freezer of homemade ice cream. Kenny was working at Kaylor’s Filling Station on Brown St, When I went home (we lived with Kenny's mother Daisy), Daisy said " You better hope you don't have that baby today if you ate beans. We stayed up very late waiting for me to go into labor. I took my bath, rolled my hair on rollers and was walking around barefooted. June1ee and her husband Jerry McNutt stayed up with us. They finally all said goodnight and insisted that I was not going into labor. They all just laughed and I was so disappointed As I was getting into bed, I noticed blood running down my leg. I thought I was having a miscarriage. I ran into Daisy's room and she said the baby would be here very soon. Kenny called the doctor J. Beverly Smith, MD. and Rolland Kaylor, his boss' son who was taking us to the hospital since we didn't have a car. We arrived at Good Samaritan Hospital about 2:30 in the morming. They gave me an enema and at the same time, I got sick at my stomach, (Daisy was right) so I was busy at both ends and also I noticed that the bottom of my feet were dirty and I was trying to clean them. I was so embarrassed with the dirty feet . When I finally got back into bed, the woman in the bed next to me started screaming that her baby was coming. I saw the baby's head emerge and I passed out. When I finally woke up, I had my little firecracker, Karen who was borm at 5:25 AM on JuIy 4, 1949. I always said that I had her scared out of me. I never had the first labor pain Helen was in the same hospital just across the hall. and by coincidence we both had named our baby Karen. Helen's was named Karen Ann. Both girls graduated in the same Class of 1967 of Belmont High School.
Kenneth Richard (Rick) Syx was due on May 29, 1952 which was a holiday weekend since we used to celebrate Memorial Day on May 30th , We lived at
625 Piqua Place, Summit Court which was on Riverview Ave, (it's no longer there). As I was sitting out in the front yard with Karen who was almost three, Kenny was coming down the street on his motorcycle, I asked him why he wasn't working (Vulcan Tool Co. on Lorain Ave.) He told me they allowed him to go home early since I was going to have a baby. I told him he was going to be so embarrassed when he had to go back to work on Monday and no baby to report. Since I was right on time with Karen, he thought I would be on time with this baby. He was lucky, as early on Monday morning I started having cramps and he insisted I go to Good Samaritan Hospital . Right away, they gave me a shot of "twilight sleep" and again I had a baby with no labor pains at all. I woke up once and saw a lot of student nurses watching his birth. He was delivered by J. Beverly Smith, MD at 8:30 A.M. on June 2, 1952, My dad called my room to see if I had the boy he was hoping for and he was elated and said "Let's hope that Mary Alice does the same good job." She was pregnant with Susie and due in September. There were already 3 girls and no boys. Rick was born with a nervous stomach with projectile vomiting and had to stay one day longer than me. I was so embarrassed as we did not have the money to pay for my hospital stay as Kenny had talked me into letting him have it to go to the cycle races in Daytona, FL in Feb. He said he would work overtime to put it back, but there was no overtime, so I had to sit out in the hall while Kenny went to his mothers to borrow the $65.00 due. The next day he took Mary Alice to pick up Rick and he had his mother come stay with me while he went off to the Nightcap to celebrate. My mom saw him there and called me. She was so mad at Kenny (the only time I knew that she was ever mad at him) When Kenny came home I told him to take his mom home because she was in worse shape than I was. She died the next April and we took over her doctor bill of $60.00 to pay her back. We paid it back at $5 a month. We also took out a loan from City Loan to pay our part of her funeral bill.
John (Jack) Paul Syx was due on January 27, 1954. On Saturday morning of the 30th, about 6:30 A.M. as his dad was eating his breakfast before going to work, at Frigidaire, Div. of G.M., I mentioned that I was having a few cramps, As usual, he immediately called work and told them I was going to the hospital to have the baby. He called Mary Alice who was going to care for Karen and Rick while I was in the hospital. I didn’t argue with him. We dropped the kids off at my brother’s house on the way. We arrived there about 8 A.M. They were in the midst of moving the old maternity ward to the women’s surgical building, They took me through the tunnel to he old ward of ten beds. After the initial exam, I just laid there for a couple of hours knowing that I was going to be sent home. At about 1 1 :30 A.M. the nurse came in and said that I could have my shot of "twilight sleep" I said that I wasn’t ready for it because I wasn't in any pain. She said that I was ready to give birth. She gave me an enema, and my shot. The shot put me to sleep immediately and Jack was born at 12:47 P.M., Saturday, January 30, 1954. Again, no pain, just cramps, not that I'm complaining. We named him John after Kenny's dad and gave him Kenny's middle name of Paul. We decided to call him Jack because my dad liked the name. When I was born he was going to name me Jack. When I turned out to be a girl, he got a dog and named him Jack. We had Jack until 1944. We didn't like dad's name of Ira and he didn't know what his middle name was since he had been orphaned at the age of two. Kenny went out that night and celebrated Jack's birth with his nephew Billy Gibbs the same as they had done with Karen and Rick. Kenny lost his good jacket by leaving it at the bar, One other thing I remember was the minister of Fourth Street Baptist Church stopping by to welcome the new baby into the world. As Karen had evidently seen another grown-up do, she went over to Jack's bassinet, put her hand on his stomach and shook it a little and said "You little shit-pot, you!" I was so embarrassed, but the minister didn’t say anything, just laughed. Mary Alice came over to help me because I had my hands full, as Rick was only 18 months old and still in diapers. Harry dropped off Mary Alice on his way to work. She didn't do anything to help me. In fact I had to entertain her and feed her. Her mom was taking care of her girls. I decided that Karen at 4 & 1/2 was more help than Mary Alice.
Brian Kennedy Syx was due the 1 st of July, 1958, 1 was hoping he would arrive on Karen's birthday, July 4th. I went through the first part of my pregnancy alone while Kenny was out of town working, first in Cleveland, then in Riviera Beach, Florida. While he was in Florida, I moved in with my mom and dad at 163 Church St. where I had lived in my teen years and where we were married.. We moved to Florida for three months before Kenny again lost his job, and my parents came to Florida and moved us all back in with them again. Kenny got a job right away at Midstate Tool & Die Shop on the west-side of town. We were living with them when Brian was bom. The longer I went, Dr. Walter K. Gregg kept telling me was mistaken about my dates. I insisted I wasn't mixed up and I told him if I didn't have the baby soon it would look to people like my husband wasn't even in town when I got pregnant. On Saturday, July 12,he decided that I could take a big dose of castor oil with orange juice to see if it would induce labor. My mom tried to talk me out of it because she didn't want me to have my baby on the 13 th. She was always superstitious, since she had my baby brother on October 13, and he only lived 3 months. I said didn't care because I was tired and wanted to get my baby here as soon as possible because I was worried about it being so late. The castor oil only caused me to have a lot of gas pain all night and at 8 am, I asked Kenny to take me to Miami Valley Hospital. When I got there I was no longer in any pain and they decided to induce labor but what they gave me only gave me what they called titanic pain and they had to stop. I laid there all day with another of Dr. Gregg’s patients, Irmgard Newman. They
decided to take me to the delivery room to see what they could do to induce labor. Irmgard was getting dressed to go home because of false labor. I don't know what they did to me in the delivery room, but when I woke up, I was black & blue from my knees to my waist. Brian was bom at 8:51 PM on July 13 1958. He weighed 8 lbs. 1 & 1/2 ozs. Dr. Gregg said I was right about him being so late and that I would never had gone into labor on my own. He also said "No more babies for you!- I also found out that things started happening real quick for Irmgard and Dr. Gregg was busy delivering both our babies Irmgard delivered a baby girl 14 minutes before Brian arrived Her baby girl grew up to become Brian's wife on May 1 , 1981 . They didn't know each other growing up and met each other in high school at Belmont High School. Dale Huffman, columnist for Dayton Daily News did a column on them about the coincidence of their birth. They divorced in 2002 after 21 years of marriage that produced two sons, Kenny Davis Syx and Tyler James Syx. We gave Brian his name because it was a popular name at the time and we thought we were giving him my dad’s middle name. Dad never knew exactly what his middle name was. He said it was something like Kanada and together we all thought it was probably Kennedy. To make a long story short, it did tum out to be Kanada, but because dad's ancestors didn't know how to spell Kennedy, a family name, they spelled it Kanada. So it finally got right with Brian after all. Of course Kenny and Bill Gibbs went out to celebrate as usual, this time for the last baby and still no labor pains. I was never awake when any of my babies were born.
THE GREAT BLIZZARD OF 1950
On November 25, 1950, two days afterThanksgiving, my husband, Kenny Syx and I left our only child {at the time) and daughter Karen Lee with her maternal grandparents, Bessie and Ira Traylor of 163 Church Street, Dayton, Ohio, USA while we went to a Dayton Pleasure Car Club dance at the Dayton Democratic Hall on Wilkinson Street in Dayton with our good friends, Don and Pat (Williams) Bieriy. It had snowed and high winds had been recorded the day before on Friday, and it snowed off and on the day of the dance, but we were all young, and invincible, and didn't realize how bad the snow situation had really become. While there, it started snowing harder and by the time we left the dance, the snow had gotten so deep that Don, who drove us, couldn’t get us home. We had to go to their house on Kirkham Street on the west side of Dayton. As we drove over Washington Street Bridge the snow was blowing so hard that we couldn't see the street in front of us. The men, who had been drinking rolled down the windows and stuck their heads out to guide the driver, Don. Pat and I were scared to death, but we made it to their house. Don was a race car driver after all, and I guess he could handle driving in snow, drunk or sober! We had to stay at their house overnight
Don walked to work after we got to their house as it was a trucking company located just a couple of blocks from where they lived, Sixty five years later, I can still picture him walking down the middle of the street in blizzard-like conditions. He was feeling no pain, as the rest of were standing there laughing at him. On Sunday morning, I called my mom to check in on Karen and to tell Mom where we were and the telephone number where she could reach us, She said Karen was running a fever, but she didn't seem to be sick. She said she thought it would be alright to stay where we were another night and that maybe the streets would be clear enough the next day and we could get home.
The next day, it was no better and everything was still closed, The gas station where Kenny worked, Kaylors on Brown Street was open and they wanted him to come to work if he make it or they could try to pick him up. We decided that Kenny would walk to work and I would walk to Mom and Dad's as Karen was still running a fever. As we passed a shoe store on Cincinnati Street that was thankfully open, we went in to price their boots and since we only had barely enough money for one pair of boots, we thought we would get men's boots fitted to Kenny as he didn't own a pair of boots and I did, but they were at home. I would wear the boots, as I had a lot further to walk than he did. His feet must have been nearly frozen by the time he reached the gas station as none of the sidewalks were cleared off. We walked together until he turned off on Brown Street and I continued on to my parents house on Church Street , about 8 miles or so
away We went down Bolander Avenue to Cincinnati Street and it jogged about a half a block to Stewart Street. We went across Stewart Street Bridge as far as Brown Street where Kenny left me. He had to walk about 3 blocks to the gas station and I continued on, left on Brown to Wyoming, along Woodland Cemetery, left on Wayne Avenue to right on Xenia Avenue and left on Steele Avenue to right on Church Street and Mom and Dad's. Mind you, neither of us were dressed in warm clothes. We were still dressed for the dance. I had on a dress and Kenny, just a suit. By the time, I reached my parents, i was so tired and
cold and the backs of my legs were raw from the men’s boots I was wearing, rubbing on my legs from their weight and being so big. I was able to walk Karen to Dr. Kuhr's office which was only about 2 blocks away. I don’t remember what was wrong with her. She may have been teething, but it was nothing serious.
Kaylors had a tow truck and they brought Kenny to Mom and Dad’s after he worked all day towing people out of snow drifts. We stayed at Mom and Dad's for several days until the streets were cleared. I remember Mom walking down to Xenia Avenue and Nassau Street on the corner in front of the Nightcap Cafe to wait for the bread and milk trucks. No stores were open in the neighborhood.
From the Dayton Daily News on December 2, 2015: "It was one of the worst blizzards on record that
stormed through Dayton and up the eastern coast of the country right after Thanksgiving, 1950. The "Great Appalachian Storm" impacted 22 states, killed 353 people and created in 1950 dollars, almost $67 million in damage.
MY INFLUENTIAL ANCESTORS
My mother gave me the gift of several influential ancestors of whom I am
extremely happy to pass on to my descendants. Her family was mostly of German/Irish descent. Two of my maternal Great, Great, Great Grandfathers, James Black and John Reed were Court Martial men from Bedford County, Pennsylvania during the American Revolution. I have the books of Bedford County which mentions this. My G. G. G. Grandfather, James Black and his wife Jane, became the grandparents of Judge Jeremiah Sullivan Black, the famous judge from Pennsylvania who became the Attorney General and Secretary of War under President Buchannon. This makes the judge my lst cousin, about 4 times removed. I have been thrilled to twice visit the family cemetery where these ancestors are buried in Somerset, Pennsylvania. There is a monument located across from the cemetery and it looks out onto the countryside and except for a few houses, it must look the same as it did when Great, Great, Great, Grandfather James’ father, John Black brought his bride, Abigail, to live there.
On my father’s side of my family, I am descended from the famous Daniel Ashcraft who was a famous frontiersman and Indian fighter who was slain by the Indians. Daniel was my G.GG.GG Grandfather. Also my paternal Great, Great, Great Grandfather, William Purvis participated in the Revolutionary War battles of Brandywine Creek, PA, Monmouth Courthouse, NJ, the storming of Stony Point, NY and several minor skirmishes, and at Valley Forge, NY at the ’ Winter Encampment, 1977-78.’ Everyone should read about the ’Winter Encampment’ and what those ancestors went through with General George Washington. Another ancestor, a cousin, Benjamin Black lost his life during the Battle of Chickamauga, one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War.
THE PLACES THAT I HAVED WORKED
My first job was as a nurse’s aide at St. Elizabeth Hospital in the Pediatric Dept. when I was 14 years old. I made 25 cents an hour and worked a6er school and in the summer. I was so proud when I got my first paycheck. I went downtown and bought a new dress. I was so excited when I got home and was showing it to my mom and dad that I sat down on our glass coffee table and it was a war job with no wood underneath the glass. I fell through it and the glass broke in large shards and my dad was trying to pull me out very carefully so that i didn't get cut more, and I was screaming because I thought I was cut worse than i was. When he finally got me out, I only had a small cut on my arm. I used to have a scar, but it is now faded, That was a very hard job, because we had to clean the bedpans, enema basins, diapers, etc.by hand. I then worked at Shifts Shoe Store on Fifth St.. I didn't like arguing with women about their shoe size and they would have to try on every shoe in the store. I also worked at Adler & Childs Dept. Store on the N.E. comer of 4th & Main St., The Home Store on E. Third St.
as well as Sears & Roebucks on Monument St. I worked as a sales lady in these stores. When I started my senior year at Stivers High School, I was selected as one of the two students that Ohio Bell Telephone Co. hired from each of the six high schools in Dayton. I was a long distance telephone operator there. There was no dialing to a distant city. You had to call the Operator to make a long distance call. If you wanted to call Los Angeles Califomia, you had to call the Operator and the Operator had to get the routing and she might have to go through 2 or 3 different Operators before she reached the one in Los Angeles. That Operator would dial the number and the Dayton Operator would have to keep track of the timing and stamp the call so that the caller could be billed for it. The Operator had to keep a cord in her hand and her eyes on the board at all times. Also you could get your hands smacked if you didn't keep them in front of you on the board at all times ready to take a call. I liked that job and worked there until just before I got pregnant with Rick, my second child. I didn’t work while the kids were growing up. I was a stay-at-home mom. I did work during evenings and Saturdays during Christmas time to make money for the kids Christmas, but not until Karen was in high school and able to watch the other kids until their dad got home from work. Right before Karen got married, I
worked as manager on the weekends at Paxson's Meat Market on Wilmington Pike. This was one of three stores owned by Kenny's sister Luella and her husband George Duckcro. George’s health was getting bad and they sold the store and I could have stayed, but I didn't care for the new owners and I quit.
When my last child Brian was in high school, my sister-in-law Betty Traylor got me a part-time job at Graphic Services on S. Main Street in the Bindery and
Mail room. It was back-breaking work and even though it was called part-time, it was really full-time and a lot of overtime with no benefits . Before Graphic Services relocated south of Dayton, I went over to Miami Valley Hospital which was nearby and put my application in as a telephone operator. They hired me to man the PBX board in the School of Nursing and also as a housemother on the late shift. This was in March of 1972. 1 wanted to get on days and I went to night school and took typing again as I had never used an electric typewriter The School of Nursing then hired me as the secretary to Theresa L. King, the Assistant Director of the School of Nursing in Student Personnel in 1976. I remained there until the school closed in 1986. They then hired me as Secretary for Nursing Education. I was in charge of seeing that all the nurses were scheduled for their all-day in-services. When that dept. downsized, I then became a secretary to the Directors in Nursing Service a. I also did all the typing for the Nurse Managers. When I retired in 1996, 1 then worked on Saturdays and Sundays for 4 hours each day doing birth certificates in the Berry Building. I did this until 2003, and having worked at Miami Valley Hospital for 31 years. All my friends and co-workers from my earty days are now gone, and in my opinion, the hospital has gone to "HELL" I was a patient then this year and hope I never have to go back. Its a different world out there now.
MY PARENTS
IRA KANADA (SMOKEY) TRAYLOR
September 4, 1899 - June 18, 1979
My dad Ira Kanada Traylor was born in Falmouth, Kentucky, Pendleton County on September 4, 1898, the child of Harrison and Leona Black Traylor. There were already 7 or 8 children. Ira was the youngest at the time of his father's death in 1900. The younger children were farmed out to other relatives at this time. I have found Ira Kanada Traylor living with his Grandfather Phillip and his wife Nancy in the 1900 Census of Pendleton County, Kentucky. Also there are a couple of other children and his mother living there. His mother is listed as a widow at the time. In the Census of 1910, I find Ira living with his Uncle Newton's family in Grassy Lick. He is listed as not being educated. Dad never spoke to his children of his early family life. My mother told us, however; that my dad was treated very poorly by this uncle, never allowed to attend school and used only for his help on the farm. He never rejoined his mother and his mother had another child after dad. It is unclear if she ever remarried. As soon as Dad was able to leave, he did. At age 19, on March 9, 1918, he went to Fort Thomas, Kentucky and enlisted in the Calvary. He was a Private of 4th Company - 165th Depot Brigade, United States Army and served in Troop G. 12th Cavalry for the period of Emergency. He spent his time in the Cavalry chasing down the infamous Pancho Villas and that's something I regret never asking him more about, this experience. He received an honorable discharge on January 12, 1919. At the time he joined, World War I was going on. He was engaged to be married, but while in the service, the girl died of influenza during the flu epidemic of 1918. When he was discharged from service, having nothing to return home to, he looked up his brother Louis who was living in Miamisburg, Ohio. He stayed with Louis and his wife Mary and son Roy. They happened to be neighbors of Charles and Jenny Grauser on Kercher Street. Bessie and Ira were married on July 8, 1922 in Dayton, Ohio.
After Bessie and Ira were married, they lived in several small towns always in Montgomery County, but finally settled in Dayton around 1927. Three sons and one daughter were born to this union.
Both Ira and Bessie were hard working people who were very proud of their heritage. Ira had a much harder time than most, due to his lack of an education. He had to work long hard hours to make a living for his family. He worked as a farm-hand, he hauled coal from dusk to dawn during the Great Depression, worked for WPA which at the time were building the great dams in the Miami Valley. He was a great man, his only vice that I know of was stopping at the bar every pay night. He always did this and it was a source of the only arguments that I ever witnessed between the two of them. My mom couldn't change him and eventually stopped trying. He worked many years at the Dayton Power and Light Co., retiring in 1962. He was a great cook, his specialty was steaks and stews. He learned how to prepare these in the Cavalry, and he loved Mexican foods. He was an avid gardener of vegetables and flowers. Dad was a great dancer, and I loved to see him do the shimmy when he got out on the dance floor. I remember all our neighbors getting together clearing a room out of furniture, pulling up the carpet and everyone dancing. There was all kinds of music, country (called hillbilly music back then), and jitterbug music for the teens. Whenever one of my brothers came home on leave during the war, there was a party to celebrate that he made it home again. Dad once received a neighborhood award for the most beautiful yard in the neighborhood. He was a devoted parent and grandparent and there was nothing that I could not ask of him. He and my mother both came to my rescue more than a few times when Kenny and I were going through lean times. I learned family devotion came before anything else in the world.
Fifteen years after his death, I was able to trace much of his family tree which proves to be a bitter-sweet reward for my never ending endeavor. He would have given anything to know about his past. He didn't even know how to spell or pronounce his middle name. He thought it may have been Kennedy and that is why I gave my third son Brian, Kennedy as a middle name. I have since found out that it was Kanada, having been passed down several generations. The ironic fact is that we traced the ancestors back far enough to see that it was originally Kennedy, but through the years evolved into Kanada by those who could not spell it. What goes around, comes around. At long last, in Brian's generation, it is now spelled correctly.
Dad would have been so proud to find out he came from such great hardy pioneer stock. Our ancestors, the Ashcrafts were renowned frontiersmen, who fought the Indian's and gave their lives to settle new frontiers for their families. They were a hardy lot who have been traced back to the early 1600's in Barbados. His ancestors, the Blacks, and Blackburns were equally renowned, having come from England to Pennsylvania and on into Kentucky to settle that state. Also we have Indian blood mixed in by the Traylors. Dad said that through the Traylors we have Cherokee and Apache blood in us. The Traylors came from England during the American Revolution and settled in the Carolinas, Maryland and Kentucky where some of them took Indian wives.
In 1973 Dad and Mom came to live with my family on Garwood Drive, Dayton, Ohio, when Dad could no longer take care of Mom. After Mom died on April 2, 1975 Dad lived with us until 1978 when after a stay in Miami Valley Hospital for emphysema, we were forced to put him in a Nursing Home (Heathergreen in Jamestown, Ohio) He was sneaking his smoking while hooked up to liquid oxygen. I was working and Kenny was struggling along with his business. Dad needed to be somewhere to be monitored. I was afraid he was going to burn our house down during the night and my family with it. Many times we had to rescue him from a flaming chair while he was with us. Once his oxygen blew up when he was sneaking a smoke in the bathroom. He burned his lungs and it was just lucky that Kenny was home at the time to save him and get him to the doctors.
When he went to the Nursing Home, they wouldn't let him have cigarettes. It was a rule there that the residents could smoke as often as they wanted to. They just had to come out to the front desk and lobby and ask for one and stay there while they smoked. He said he wouldn't be treated like a child so he chose to do without. They told him that was his choice. That must have been hell for him because he was a heavy smoker. They couldn't take the chance of one of the smokers burning down the home. He wasn't bedfast, so he could have come out and asked for one. He had his own wheelchair. I felt very sorry for him but I couldn't talk him out of his stubbornness. He was a great father especially when I think about him never having a role model. Maybe that's what made him such a good father. He didn't want us to go through what he had gone through.
When both of my parents were gone, I never felt so alone. It was just terrible knowing that my parents were no longer there to give me support when I needed it. I still miss them and thank God for providing me with such great parents. Even though times were very tough at times, we always had more than our share of love. My parents never owned a home during their lifetime and very little savings. When they passed away, all that was left of a very modest savings account was less than a $1,000.00 and insurance money that was split between Harry and I. We each inherited a little less than $3,500. But that's more than we inherited from Kenny's mom. All the kids had to chip in and pay $65.00 each to bury her. We were all glad to do this and didn't give it another thought other than having to take a loan out to do it. That's just the way things were. Neither of our parents owned a home It was a different time and age. None of the women drove a car, not my mother, aunts or any other woman I knew. A lot of the men didn't drive either. Usually there wasn't enough money in the early days of their marriages to buy a car anyway.
BESSIE REBECCA GRAUSER TRAYLOR
September 19, 1899 - April 2, 1975
Bessie Rebecca Grauser was born on September 19, 1899, the third child of Charles Winfield Grauser and Catharine Jane Reed Grauser (Jenny) in Sunsbury, Ohio, a small town outside of Germantown, Ohio.
Mom's maternal ancestors were the Reeds, and Johnstons of Piqua, Ohio. Colonel John Johnston the famous Indian Trader of Piqua was her great, great uncle and another great, great uncle was Jeremiah Black, the United States Attorney General for President Buchanan, Bessie's paternal grandparents were Lewis and Rebecca Shaeffer Grauser, great grandparents, Christian Daniel and Margaretha Deininger Grauser of Germantown. Mom was always aware of her ancestors, but she was not involved in researching them. She left that to her older sister Florence. My Aunt Florence got me interested in family history and we had that in common for many years. I owe my interest to her.
Mom always said she was very spoiled by her dad. She said he would do anything in the world for her as long as he lived. She adored him and always spoke very highly of him. She told me that when she was around 10 or 11, he told her to stay in her own yard and not to leave. She disobeyed him and went down the alley to a neighbors yard to visit her friend. Her dad decided to teach her a lesson. He put a sheet over his head and hid behind a bush and jumped out at her when she returned down the alley to her house. She said she almost died on the spot. She flew down the alley and into her house crying. She couldn't tell her mom what was wrong because she wasn't supposed to be out of her yard. Her dad came around and into the front door never mentioning that he knew she was out of the yard. He never told her until she was grown what he had did. Mom said he had punished her and taught her a lesson at the same time. She said she never disobeyed him again, believing that God had sent a ghost after her for disobeying her dad.
Mom also adored her mother (Jenny Reed Grauser). She almost lost my dad right in the beginning of their marriage, because she took her newborn baby over to her mother's to stay with her when she was so ill before she passed away in 1923. Mom always said she was not about to desert her mother when she was so ill. Grandmother Grauser had what they called dropsy at the time and she was very ill. Mom said she always felt that she had did right by her mother and she had no regrets about leaving dad to do it. Dad got over it and later said he was glad that mom had went against his wishes and took care of her mother. Mom said that he was just jealous of her family early in her marriage. Mom's sister Florence always thought that my mom had married beneath herself when she married Dad. Aunt Florence was always very kind to me but she and her family were always ready to make some snide remark about my dad's being a briarhopper from Kentucky who didn't have an education and wasn't able to get a good job. I resented this even as a child. I worshiped my dad and mom. My dad always described my Aunt Florence by saying "She thinks her ass weighs a ton." Aunt Florence always had dad doing something for her because even though her husband, my Uncle Charles had a good job at the base even during the depression, he was not handy around the house like my dad. Mom said that early in Aunt Florence's marriage when she had several children, Aunt Florence would often have to go home to her mothers in order to take care of her children. Mom also said that Uncle Si (Charles) was also a womanizer early in his marriage to Aunt Florence. Aunt Florence always conveniently forgot about this.
Mom worked worked for 23 years at International Envelope Company, retiring from there in December, 1965. She started working there on December 2, 1942 the day that my seventeen-year-old brother Babe left for Great Lakes Naval Training Station after having joined the Navy. We were right in the middle of World War II, and her other son Harry was to leave just a month later for the Army. What a worry for her on what should have been a very happy day. She was so happy after having worked so hard at her job at Crystal Laundry. She had worked at an envelope company in Miamisburg as a young girl and she loved that job. She was so proud when she got her new job at the envelope company. Just a little over a year before, she had lost her 3-month old son Frederick Eugene Traylor to bronchial pneumonia. Things were just so tough for my parents at this time. The country was still in the depths of the depression. After Freddie's death which my parents had attributed to the drafty apartment that they were renting, Dad was able to rent a three room apartment for $9.00 a month. They had lost everything including their furniture when Mom was in Good Samaritan Hospital with the new baby Freddy. Mom didn't have enough insurance to bury him and it took her several years before she was able to pay off this debt. A week before Freddy died, a photographer knocked on the apartment door wanting to take the baby's picture. Mom told him that she didn't have any money to pay for pictures. The photographer insisted on taking the picture anyway. When he stopped by a few weeks later with the pictures, Freddy had already died and my mom was so happy that she at least had a photo of him.
Mom was a superb cook and she loved to bake. She specialized in baking cakes. She was always eager to try a new recipe. Her table was a family gathering place. When you visited her home, you knew you weren't going to leave hungry. Most times we left with a care package also.
Mom was a very easy going woman who allowed herself to be dominated by my dad. He thought he was her keeper and believed she was incapable of crossing the street by herself. He was her keeper and I used to get very angry at her because she wouldn't stand up to him. Maybe she was able to keep peace that way. Whatever my dad told her, she took as the gospel truth. My dad never mistreated her, he loved her dearly and she him. Anything Mom needed, Dad would try his best to get for her. After I married, I would stand up to him for her and Dad would just laugh and go on his way. As I said before, my Dad would stop at the bar every Friday night on his way home from work, but a couple of times when Mom would go downtown on the bus after work, thinking he was at the bar and that he wouldn't be worried about her, that would be the very night that he would skip the bar and come home. It never failed. He would be on the phone to me, asking if I knew her plans. He would worry about her and give her heck when she got home. They would both be mad at each other. During her later years when she became ill with what I now believe was the early stages of Alzheimer, she would not do anything he told her to do and no matter what he told her, she would argue with him. This was so out of character for her and he couldn't accept this change in her. About this time is when I couldn't handle mom anymore. At times she would be her old self and other times she would just cuss and rave about anything. At times she was oblivious to everything and everyone around her. She would walk around us as if she didn't even see us. She was always searching for a cigarette which we couldn't give to her. One of the things most people remember about Mom when she was well, was her ability to have a cigarette in her mouth with an ash on the end at least an inch long. She would be cooking, doing dishes, talking and that long ash would just stay there. We were forced to put her in a nursing home which broke all our hearts, but we had no choice. If Dad had been able to get along with her, I think I could have also, but the two of them together were too much to handle. Mom was in a nursing home for about six months. I would go get her and bring her home for a visit, but she was like a stranger who only worried about getting back to the nursing home. She was always worried that someone would come into her room and steal her belongings while she was gone. There were very few times that she was lucid and knew any of us. She was having heart problems and the nursing home had her transferred to Miami Valley Hospital and were threatening not to let her return to the nursing home. She had been screaming at night and keeping everyone awake there. I was worried sick about what we were going to do if they refused to let her come back. God took that out of our hands on April 1, 1975 when she had a heart attack. The hospital made a mistake by resuscitating her and bringing her back for one night of hell. She was in such pain and any medication that they gave her would kill her. She didn't know Harry or myself while we sat with her. She asked us a couple of times where her people were and I told her that we were her people. She said "Yes honey I know you are, but where are my people?" She told me that her mother was standing at the door and wanted us to let her go with her. She said her mother would take care of her. She said she hurt so bad, and for us to just let her go. When the nurse came in, I asked if she would please see if the doctor would let her have something for the pain. She came back and said it was our decision, but that it would probably kill her. That was the most painful decision that I have ever made in my life. I didn't even ask Harry to be a part of it. I felt it was enough that one of would have to make such a decision. Mom passed away about an hour after they gave her an injection for the pain. I have never felt guilty about it. It's what she wanted and I have always felt that she actually left this world with her mother. The night of her death I felt very close to my Grandmother Jenny who I never had the good fortune to meet. She died 6 years before I was born, but I believe that she was in that hospital room that night with us because Mom said she was I felt that I had actually lost my mother about 6 years before she died. She and I were very close and up until my brother Babe was killed in an accident in 1968, Mom was well and we went many places together. We rarely missed our daily telephone call. After my brother's death she was never the same person. She had always been such an easy-going person, a trait she picked up from her dad and mom. I have been told they were the same way. Mom passed away April 2, 1975 and she and Dad are both buried in Hillgrove Cemetery in Miamisburg. A beautiful and wonderful woman that I will miss for the rest of my life along with my Dad. I adored both of them. I can't ever remember an argument between myself and my mother. We just never did. We never even disagreed.
I will say that I had the most caring parents that ever lived and they raised us kids to be responsible adults who worked for what we got in life. The same as Kenny and I raised ours. We always tried to be good role models and feel that we succeeded in the most part, Kenny would be very proud as I am of what our kids and grandchildren have accomplished in their lives. They are all responsible adults and parents who have had hard times also, but never felt they should receive any free entitlements. They have all worked very hard for what they have and never thought that the world owed them a living. They have all been very good to me since Kenny passed away. They all look out for me and I couldn’t ask for more. I love and appreciate the beautiful deck all the men-folk built for me this fall, I appreciate that so much. I can’t wait until next spring to enjoy it. This included my sons, son-in-law, Don (he looks out for me too) grandsons, and great grandsons. The whole project was headed up by my grandson Casey who did a fantastic job. Now I’m just waiting for him to make the Christmas cheese cake that I taught him to make.
My mom and dad made those days as good as they could. They did their best with what they had to work with. I couldn't have been blessed with better parents and I wouldn't have exchanged them with anyone. When God was handing our parents, I hit the lottery, because I received the best. They both knew how much I loved and respected them, but I should have told them more often. I always tried to repay them be being the best parent that I could be to my own children. My mom and dad were wonderful role models and I have always tried to follow their example. I was very close to my mom and dad. Up until my mom had her stroke and they both moved in with my family. I checked in with them almost daily, except for the few months we lived in Florida. From the time I married, I always decorated their Christmas tree, helped with the shopping and wrapped her presents for her. Family has always been the most important part of my life. Every time I ever messed up, it was usually because I was trying too hard.. I'm sure that is the reason I have always been so interested in family history.. If you don't have family, you're very unfortunate. They are your support system and provide you people to reminisce with. I miss that most since all my early childhood family and friends are gone. There is nobody who remembers what I remember. When your family is gone, you have lost a fortune. My family means the world to me and I have always believed in sharing with them no matter how little it may be. What's mine is also theirs, and this is the reason behind this story. I want to share it with them. I hope I do a good job and make it a story they can appreciate in years to come.
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Syx, Marilyn Virginia nee Traylor, age 92 dear mother, grandmother, great grandmother, and great-great grandmother of Beavercreek, Ohio passed away peacefully on Tuesday, September 27th, 2022 at Hospice of Dayton. Marilyn was a 1948 graduate of Stivers High School and retired from Miami Valley Hospital. She was a secretary to the Director of School of Nursing and later worked at the birthing center.
Marilyn was born in Dayton Ohio on November 16th, 1929 and was the third child of Ira K. and Bessie R. Traylor nee Grauser. She was preceded in death by her parents, loving husband of 36 years Kenneth P. Syx; brothers, Harrison C. Traylor, Arthur B. Traylor Frederick E. Traylor; and granddaughter, Shannon Syx. She will be greatly missed by her loving children whom she cherished, daughter and son-in-law Karen and Don Johnson; son and daughter-in-law Kenneth "Rick" and Darlene Syx; son John "Jack" Syx and son Brian Syx. Marilyn is also survived by her 7 grandchildren; Stephanie Syx, John Syx, Stacey Johnson-Blackmore, Casey Johnson, Amy Johnson, Kenneth Syx, Tyler Syx; 13 great grandchildren; 6 great-great grandchildren and many nieces, nephews, family, friends and special friend, Linda Ditmer. Her family would like to thank all her nurses and caregivers at Hospice and Traditions of Beavercreek.
A visitation for Marilyn will be held Tuesday, October 4, 2022 from 12:00 PM to 1:00 PM at Tobias Funeral Home, Belmont Chapel, 648 Watervliet Ave, Dayton, Ohio 45420, followed by a funeral service at 1:00 PM.
Marilyn will be laid to rest in Hillgrove Union Cemetery, 1002 E. Central Ave., Miamisburg, Ohio 45342.
Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.tobiasfh.com for the Syx family.
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