9TH GENERATION JOHN GILBERT RANSDELL

9^th Generation: Children of Gilbert Sterling Ransdell

John Gilbert Ransdell

(1914-1992)

My Personal Memories of John Gilbert Ransdell

J. G. Ransdell 1983

Does any family not have an uncle J.G.? I can’t imagine it. He never had a family of his own; instead, he had many families, and there was always a special place for him at our table. On Christmas Day he would make the rounds, visiting the homes of each of his sisters and brothers and their kids, as well as his friends, taking pictures and leaving gifts. Not just any gifts, however -- most of the time, the gift he would bring for Mom would be something he had made himself, depending on what type of craft or art work he was involved with at the time. Each and every one was a treasure -- the oil painting of the snow scene, the cactus growing in layers of colored sand that he had arranged, and of course, the ceramics. He taught ceramics classes for years, and started a special tradition in the family: each of Mom’s grandchildren has received a ceramic piggy bank handpainted by J.G. with all the information about their birthplace, date, time, etc., on it. He suffered from Parkinson’s disease in his later years and died a month before his 79th birthday.

He served in the Army in World War II, as did his two younger brothers, and was sent to India. While on the voyage to India, and on the voyage home, he wrote poems expressing the feelings of loneliness and peacefulness at sea while the world was at war.

J. G. Ransdell 1941

J. G. Ransdell in India 1943

A New Voyage

by John Gilbert Ransdell

Somewhere in India

A new and strange life I enter

As up the gangplank I roam,

And I whispered a prayer for guidance

And for a safe and speedy return home.

I thought of home and loved ones

As down to my compartment I went.

Where my pack was dropped and a bunk assigned,

Upon which my sleep would be spent.

"All troops allowed on top deck now"

Was the first of good news to hear.

We scampered on top for a glimpse

And found we were leaving the pier.

Tis more than a week that's gone by now,

With nothing but water in sight.

We glide merrily along by day,

And slip silently along by night.

This vast blue ocean is calm today

With but a white cap here and there,

Now and then a porpoise is playing,

He hasn't a fear or a care.

Several more weeks have gone by now,

And today it is Christmas again.

We're not too gay aboard a troop ship,

It's for home and friends that we yen.

Alas! Our voyage has ended,

Upon a new and strange land we trod.

Not a fear or a danger confronts me,

As I walk hand in hand with God.

Yes, a new and strange land I've entered,

As down from the gangplank I've gone.

I'll continue my prayer for guidance,

And for peace and good will to dawn.