Written in the shadow of war, preserved across generations.
In the quiet days just before Christmas 1941—only weeks after the attack on Pearl Harbor—my second great-granduncle, Thomas Jefferson “Jeff” McDonald Sr.,[1] sat down in Liberty, South Carolina, to write a long and thoughtful letter to his niece, my great-grandaunt, Mrs. Agnes (McDonald) Blackerby,[2] in Wilsonville, Alabama.
Jeff was 71 years old. His letter is reflective, affectionate, and deeply rooted in faith and family. He speaks candidly about aging, the passing of loved ones, the uncertainty of wartime, and the comfort found in memory. Along the way, he provides a remarkable accounting of children, grandchildren, marriages, deaths, and places—making the letter a rich genealogical record as well as a deeply personal family document.
Enclosed with the letter was a poem titled “My Dad,” written by Jeff as a tribute to his father, William Henry McDonald (1827–1911).[3] The poem preserves not only family memory, but values—work, faithfulness, duty, and love—that shaped generations.
What follows is the complete transcription of the letter and poem, presented exactly as written, with original wording preserved. Footnotes identify the many family members mentioned and provide additional genealogical context.
Transcription
Liberty, S. C., Route 1
December 23rd, 1941
Hello Agnes,[2]and all: —
I received your letter of a recent date, and was glad to hear from you, and to hear that you were all O.K. We are as well as usual. I am reasonably stout for a man of my age. Your Aunt Eva[4] — my wife — who is fourteen years younger than I am, is reasonably stout too. We have been married forty‑one years next February. We have three children.[5];[6];[7]
Nell,.[5]our oldest, is forty years old the 28th of this month. She married Raymond Gillespie,[8] and has four children.[9];[10];[11];[12] Her oldest [9]— a girl — married Heyward Holcombe.[13] They have a little girl, Dorothy Ann,[14] nearly two years old, so you see I am a great‑granddad.
Our second, T. J.,[6]has my birthday — April 22nd — and is 38 in April. He is cloth room man at Arcadia Mills, at Spartanburg, S.C.
And Minnie,[7]our third, married Clifton Martin[15] and live here. She has four children living[16];[17];[18];[19]and one dead.[20] Jack,[16]the oldest boy, will be 20 years old the second of April.
I do not hear from Bob[21] often. His home is on Route 6, Box 131, Greensboro, N.C.
Well, it is great that your mother[22] is able to be up and take care of herself. May the Lord bless her. I would love to see her. It is great consolation to know that your father[23] was ready to go. His life work was thus ended — a happy success.
I am glad Effie[24] thought enough of me to write the very nice letter she wrote. Well Effie, our country out here is broken with hills, Blue Ridge mountains, creeks, rivers, and valleys with some nice upland fields. They make, well, a great panorama of beautiful colors in autumn.
I mean our autumn woods are pretty — but never pretty in winter except when beneath their blankets of snow. Yes, I presume we have about the same temperature you have out there.
Effie, I never thought so much about the beauties of nature — the landscape beauties — until in my declining years. It seems all of my childhood scenes rise on a review and more radiant attractiveness each year.
I have not a picture of myself,[1]or my wife,[4]or children,[5];[6];[7]that I can send at this time. I hope to be able to send you some in the future.
Your typing is excellent. We all make mistakes. My only grown granddaughter is married. She married too young — about sixteen.[9]
Yes, Effie, I enjoy reading your letters, and hope you will write again.
Well Agnes,[2]I had written part of this letter, but had not finished it, so when the mail ran yesterday I found an unexpected and much appreciated card from your mother.
Well Martha,[22]I am truly glad to hear from you. Sorry to know that you are not so well. I am as stout as the average man of my age, although there is not a black hair in my head. I have been gray for several years. Bob[21]has broken considerably, but he works some yet.
Martha, when I think of 1883 — I think that was the fall you left South Carolina — I think of an undeveloped wooded country. Scarcely any Seneca, no Clemson College. I know that Liberty and Easley were scarcely on the map.
Liberty is now a small town of three department stores, five grocery stores, two drug stores, and various other places of business located on the Atlanta and Charlotte air line about 20 miles north of Seneca and about 20 miles south of Greenville. We live about 200 yards from the depot.
Martha, it would please me immensely to spend the holidays with you, but I have no way to come. Yes, the war bears on my mind and heart continually. I presume there has been no much less instruction since time began. These are truly perilous times. Martha, remember me in your prayers and set us a time to meet in a better land if we meet no more here.
No more here Agnes. I am enclosing one of my poems, “My Dad,” a pen picture of your grandpa McDonald.[3]
As I know him I would love to see you all and learn more about you. I would be glad to spend the holidays with you all. Sorry I cannot come.
Write to me all along.
Goodbye and love to all,
Your Uncle,
Jeff[1]
Enclosed Poem: “My Dad”
My Dad[3]
In praise of our mothers[25];[26] nice tributes were paid;
While tributes to dad are but few.
So this I am writing — a tribute to dad —
A tribute to him, overdue.
My mother[25] was faithful — sweet mother of mine —
A better no other has had;
But dad was as faithful I truly opine;
For none was more faithful than dad.
My dad, I yet see him come in from his toil,
At dusk with his hat in his hand;
His hair always tousl’d — clothes covered with soil,
But no man was ever more grand.
No idle time had he — no time he could rest—
’Twas no time to loaf that he had;
Each day he was working — was working his best,
For no one worked harder than dad.
I mind in the cornfield — my earlier days —
His plow mule, some times I would ride;
I mind, as I’d sit burning in blistering rays
Of sun, as I’d sit there astride.
“Old Toby” I’d ride him, for rounds after rounds
When I was a very small lad—
Till over the hill-tops an echo resounds;
William! I hear mother call dad.
I yet, see him plowing the the tall rustling corn;
I see yet his grasshopper stock;
I yet see him busy till night, from each morn —
As busy, he was, as a clock.
No riches — not earthly — he’d labor to get;
That wealth to himself he might add;
Nor was he regretting — why should he regret?
For honest and faithful, was dad.
I mind him when stalwart — I mind he grew frail —
His last days I mind, he was gray;
But cannot remember a promise he’d fail,
Nor, debt, that refused he, to pay.
He bore well his burdens — he served well his day;
No weather, nor task was too bad.
Of work he was busy, though small was his pay;
For duty came first with my dad.
My dad, I remember, as he, at last slept —
His drum leaving set in the west;
A good fight he’d fought, and the faith he had kept;
In death he had found time to rest.
His task had been heavy — a task, he’d well done —
So tired, that for rest he was glad;
For, he, with the faithful, a crown had now won;
For, faithful, through life, was my dad.
I mind in the churchyard we laid him to rest;
’Tis hallowed — the place where he sleeps;
There, trouble can never, his slumbers molest,
For sainted ones, God safely keeps.
In Jesus, he’s sleeping — ’tis peaceful, his rest;
Till dawns that bright morning, so glad;
For God, who had call’d him, knew when it was best.
I know it is well with my dad.
He’s been gone away, for many long years;
Twas later, my mother went too.
I miss them so sadly — I miss them in tears;
The world seems so lonely and blue.
But long, they have left us — God took them away;
And since they have gone, I am sad.
But ’tis not much longer till close of life’s day,
And I’ll be with mother, and dad.
— Thomas Jefferson McDonald
Liberty, S.C.
[1] Thomas Jefferson “T.J.” or “Jeff” McDonald (1870-1952), author of the letter and uncle to the recipient, Agnes. Find A Grave ID: 39035590, Wikitree ID: McDonald-30508
[2] Agnes (McDonald) Blackerby (1891-1981), recipient of the letter and niece of the author of the letter, Jeff. Find A Grave ID: 34477233, Wikitree ID: McDonald-37980
[3] William Henry McDonald Sr. (1827-1911), father of the author; Find A Grave ID: 50957746; Wikitree ID: McDonald-34109
[4] Eva Elizabeth (Nalley) McDonald (1885-1950), wife of the author. Find A Grave ID: 39030438, Wikitree ID: Nalley-432
[5] Nell Corrine (McDonald) Gillespie (1901-1998), daughter of the author. Find A Grave ID: 72930217, Wikitree ID: McDonald-37979
[6] Thomas Jeffereson (T.J.) McDonald Jr. (1904-1966), son of the author. Find A Grave ID: 49012424, Wikitree ID: McDonald-33569
[7] Minnie Lee (McDonald) Martin (1906-1971), daughter of the author. Find A Grave ID: 76515635, Wikitree ID: McDonald-30507
[8] William Raymond Gillespie (1900-1963), son-in-law of the author and husband of Nell. Find A Grave ID: 113168079, Wikitree ID: Gillespie-10306
[9] Margaret Elizabeth (Gillespie) Holcombe (1924-1946), granddaughter of the author. Find A Grave ID: 38962684, Wikitree ID: Gillespie-10307
[10] Sara Frances (Gillespie) Shostrand (1927-2020), granddaughter of the author. Find A Grave ID: 210210894, Wikitree ID: Gillespie-10308
[11] Edward Gillespie (b.1934), grandson of the author.
[12] Linda Carolyn (Gillespie) Walker (1939-2007), granddaughter of the author. Find A Grave ID: 21911934, Wikitree ID: Gillespie-10309
[13] Thomas Heyward Holcombe (1918-1969), grandson-in-law of the author. Find A Grave ID: 38962699, Wikitree ID: Holcombe-2337
[14] Dorothy Ann (Holcombe) Dodgens (1940-2018), great-granddaughter of the author. Finda A Grave ID: 189945897, Wikitree ID: Holcombe-2338
[15] Herbert Clifton Martin (1902-1970), son-in-law of the author. Find A Grave ID: 76515612, Wikitree ID: Martin-88848
[16] Jack Walls Martin (1922-2011), grandson of the author, son of Clifton and Minnie. Find A Grave ID: UTL, Wikitree ID: Martin-109125. Note: Jack’s son, Michael Terry Martin is my 3rd cousin once removed and his son, Michael Martin Jr. is my 3rd cousin twice removed. Both relationships are confirmed by a DNA.
[17] James Lee Martin (1939-1971), grandson of the author, son of Clifton and Minnie. Find A Grave ID: UTL, Wikitree ID: Martin-109128
[18] Jaime Ann Martin, granddaughter of the author, daughter of Clifton and Minnie.
[19] Unknown child (deceased by December 23, 1941), grandchild of the author, child of Clifton and Minnie. Find A Grave ID: UTL, Wikitree ID: UTL
[20] Herbert Clifton Martin Jr. (1928-193), grandson of the author, son of Clifton and Minnie. Died of bronchial pneumonia complicated by influenza at age 2. Find A Grave: UTL – Buried in a local churchyard according to death certificate, Wikitree: Martin-109131
[21] Robert “Bob” Earl Lee McDonald (1868-1949), brother of the author. Find A Grave ID: 37737685, Wikitree ID: McDonald-37981
[22] Martha Smith (Roland) McDonald (1855-1942), sister-in-law of the author, mother of the recipient, Agnes and my 2nd great-grandmother. Find A Grave ID: 75146840, Wikitree ID: Roland-3333
[23] John Franklin Edward McDonald (1852-1940), older brother of the author, husband of Martha Smith, father of the recipient, Agnes and my 2nd great-grandfather. Find A Grave ID: 75146415, Wikitree ID: McDonald-34108
[24] Effie Leola (Blackerby) Dunson (1925-2009), granddaughter of the author and daughter of the recipient, Agnes. Find A Grave ID: 38771746, Wikitree ID: Blackerby-204
[25] Mary Elizabeth (Day) McDonald (1885-1950), mother of the author, second wife of the subkect of the poem, William, step-grandmother of the recipient, Agnes, and my step-3rd great-grandmother. William married Mary after the death of his first wife, Rachel. Find A Grave ID: 50957526, Wikitree ID: Day-23997
[26] Rachel (Sanders) McDonald (1827-1862), step-mother of the author, first wife of the subject of the poem, William, great-grandmother of the recipient, Agnes, and my 3rd great-grandmother. Find A A Grave ID: UTL, Wikitree ID: Sanders-24272
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