AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FLORENCE (MOORE) WILBER
AUTOBIOGRAPHY PAGES
The Beginning Growing Up Our Early Travels WWII and Children Grow Up Our Final Travels
I have included a picture of Aunt Florence's parents (my greatgrand parents) on this page and I hope to include one of her soon. This writing is a good way to learn about life during the first half of the century and beyond through the eyes of the writer. I hope you will enjoy your time spent reading. Please let me know what you think by sending me an e-mail. This very nice lady, whom I barely knew passed away in March of 1999.
I was born in a small village in Grant County, Wisconsin. The event of my birth took place in the cold, bleak month of November, two days before the Thanksgiving holidays when families celebrate with a big feast on turkey and pumpkin pie. It happened at a very in-convenient time when the ground was covered with a blanket of snow and ice. My three sisters were all home in the care of my father and a nurse. They all had the whooping cough which was later given to me, a three weeks old infant. Dr. Lewis, our country doctor, came in a one-horse sleigh over the Brodtville hills to help my mother through her ordeal of bringing a fourth baby girl into the world. I'm sure that my father was groaning in his disappointment at having another female in the family when all along he had wanted sons to help him on the farm. I happened in a snow storm; the soft, clinging snow filling highways and fence corners and weighing down the branches of trees. My father had to shovel a pathway to the door for the doctor to enter. This event took place on November 23, 1901, in the town of Brodtville. Grant County is in the south western corner of the state of Wisconsin. It is noted for its large fertile farms, its wooded areas, its green pastures and rolling hills. I was born on a farm in a huge rambling house surrounded by lovely shade trees and low rolling hills. My parents, John Scott Moore and Aurelia Bertha Curtis were kind, thoughtful parents making my child-hood years very precious in my memory. Now when I look back it seems so many years and yet time has a way of flying faster and faster as the years go by. So many changes have taken place; the red dirt roads have become smooth concrete highways, the horse-drawn vehicles are sleek automobiles, the little country school houses have disappeared and many small villages are no more. My child-hood days were happy ones on the farm, going to a rural school, playing with sisters and brothers and cousins and neighbors children. Going to high-school in the small town of Patch Grove and later, to College in La Crosse, Wis., teaching in a rural school, enjoying country life. All this, in contrast to my later life which was spent in one large city after another, even cities in Europe, South America and the Orient. As I look back over the years, I could wish for the calmness of the peaceful hills and valleys, the soothing music of the singing streams, the wooded hill sides covered with flowers, my mother's kind voice and pleasant face; all these thing live in my memory. I'd like again to walk in the woods, to pick flowers, to have a pet dog or a kitten, to run beside a creek overflowing with water in the Spring time, to climb the apple trees, to lie on the grass under the towering oaks, to ride a horse again after the cows in the cool of the evening, to hear our Mother calling us for supper; these are things of the past but always living in our memories.
My father, John Scott Moore was the 4th son of William Moore, a farmer and also, a Civil War Veteran. My Grandmother Moore was Sarah Rebecca Weaver. She had been married before to John Marshall who had been killed in the Civil War. William and Sarah had born six sons and one girl. The war years had been hard years for the young boys, while their father was away at war. You may ask, "What's in a name?" The old Irish Moores are O'Mordha, from the word "Mordha" meaning "stately or noble." The Moore name is numerous in Ireland, holding twentieth place in the list of commonest names. It is difficult to say what proportion of these are of Gaelic Irish origin and what proportion are actually of English extraction, for also in England the Moore name is common, ranking thirty-ninth in their list. The English Moore (or More) derives from the Anglo-Saxon "mor" meaning "Marsh". It was first applied as a local name to a dweller in or near a moor or a resident of the town of Moore in Cheshire. The name was listed in the year 1086. Many distinguished men, both Irish and English, have born the Moore surname. Thomas Moore (1779-1852) was an Irish Poet and a close friend and biographer of Byron. His book of "Irish Melodies" includes such favorites as "Believe me if all those Endearing Young Charms" and "Oft in the Stilly Night". Sir Thomas More (1478-1535) was an English statesman and humanist. He was called to the bar and rose to the judiciary to the office of Lord Chancellor of England, being the first layman to hold this position. In America, a James Moore is listed among the early settlers of Charleston, South Carolina. he was elected Governor of that state in the year 1700.
 My mother, Bertha Curtis was the best mother who ever lived. Bertha was the daughter of James A. Curtis, a wealthy farmer and much respected citizen and a leader of many civic and community affairs. He was a scholar, and a gentleman of the old school. Jane Howe, my grandmother Curtis was a lady and a scholar also. She was the first woman to be graduated from a New York College of Medicine for Women. In those days of 1800, the Grange was popular. My grandfather Curtis was president of the Grange and wrote many papers on Progressive Farming. My Great Uncle, Squire Howe was a large land owner in New York state. I never had the privilege of enjoying my grandparents as they died before I was born. Grandfather Curtis was an educator and a teacher. His writings in the Journal of Education and other periodicals as well made him well known in the community. He was not only a leader in civic affairs but owned one of the county's best farms. The James A. Curtis farm known as the Maples lay in gently rolling hills of fertile acres. I well remember the lovely Colonial house which is still standing and where I was privileged to spend some precious child-hood years. The Curtis farm, one of the best in Grant county, two hundred acres of gently rolling land, fertile soil, a lovely colonial house surrounded by white picket fence and stately pine trees and beautiful maples from which it derived its name, "The Maples". On this lovely farm my mother was born in the year 1870. She had two older sisters, Clara and Ella and five brothers, Herbert, Will, Ed, Clem and Elwyn. My mother named Aurelia Bertha, could be proud of her ancestors. Her mother's family were among the original prominent people of New York state. Her father's family, the Curtis's belonged to the fine folk of the old city. The marriage of James Curtis and Jane Howe was a union of romantics and intellectuals. When they married James had only a small salary as High School Principle of Patch Grove High School, but in aspirations they were rich. "Our lives shall be spent in the mutual elevation and advancement of each other", wrote Grandfather Curtis to Jane concerning their future. If Jane Howe's professional life had not become involved with her emotional life she might have remained in her native state and pursued her calling quite successfully. It was a chance meeting with James Curtis at the home of her brother, the Rev. Howe, that changed the course of her life. They corresponded with beautiful letters (the art of letter writing has now disappeared). They were both excellent writers so this continued for a time. She watched James's career as a teacher develop, his ability as a writer and as a speaker commanded her respect, as a debater he was well known in the community. Since he could not prosper financially as a teacher, he took up farming. The Curtis farm still stands and commands the respect of the entire community of Grant County in Wisconsin. Little Bertha (my mother) was born August twenty-first, 1870 on the Curtis farm. After so many brothers she was the apple of her father's eye. She was a pretty little girl with a fair complexion, dark, bright eyes, long, fair hair, fine and silky, a very high forehead and a countenance of more than usual intelligence. Her fair skin freckled but she kept her light brown hair and lovely dark eyes. I always admired my mother's expressive brown eyes, her beautiful smile and her dear, lovely hands. (A mother's kind hands, how beautiful they are to a little child) and after year's of toil, how beautiful they remain. Bertha was universally praised by all her friends, she was talented but without much opportunity to develop her talents. Her father died at an early age and she and her mother were left alone on the big farm. Her younger brother, Elwyn, took the farm for a few years. Bertha had attended the same school and lived in the same neighborhood as my father, John Scott Moore. As friends they had to know each other for some time, this friendship developed into love and they married February twenty-eighth, 1894, and went to live on a farm in Brodtville, Wisconsin. My father, John Scott Moore, was born in the township of Patch Grove, Wisconsin in the year of 1867. Later they came back to live on the beautiful Curtis farm. On this farm my mother had spent all of her happy child-hood years and all of her woman-hood years and now she was back on the farm raising her own family of boys and girls. Her heart was well neigh broken when later the farm was sold and they moved to another farm.
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