Doan Pictures

The limbs that move, the eyes that see,

These are not entirely me;

Dead men and women helped to shape,

The mold which I do not escape.

The words I speak, my written line,

These are not uniquely mine;

For in my heart and in my will,

Old ancestors are warring still.

Celt, Roman, Saxon, and all the dead,

From whose rich blood my veins are fed;

In aspect, gesture, voices, tone,

Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

In fields they tilled I plow the sod,

I walk the mountain paths they trod;

And round my daily steps arise,

The good and bad of those I comprise.

Written by English Author Richard Rolle,

over 600 years ago.

c 1300 to 1340

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Grandpa Virgil and Grandma Jennie

Uncle Orvel and Aunt Mary

Great Grandpa John Anderson Doan

Virgil, Jennie, Bruce, Herman Leroy and Helen

Aunt Rosie and Uncle Roy

Helen and Uncle Roy examining a fishing fly

Omer and Shirley

Aunt Myrtle, Uncle Bruce and Carla

Uncle Bruce, Uncle Orvel and Sandy

This is part of my family, I am remembering them with love.

Betty

Phyliss

Music: Indiana Home

Artist: Harry Todd

Used with permission

Helen at Craigmot Look out

Helen and Jean

Orvel, Helen, Herman

Jennie and Virgil

Great Grandma Lucretia Bland Doan

Grandma Jennie age 17 and daughter Lucille

Flowers: Geraniums

Uncle Roy

Helen age 3

Margaret Kirk, Helen age 13

and Orvel age 4

Helen age 5 and Friend

Uncle Herman and Aunt Lena