A Heartfelt Project
My Father's Mother Isabel Miller was a Silent Screen Movie Star and wrote poems for her child (my father Bruce) in 1922-24. I will incorporate her film stills with her poems.
Tribute to Isabel Hoyt Nelson
Screen Name Ms. Mary Gardner
My Father's Mother - born Isabel Hoyt (New York) 1900, died 1986
My Father - Bruce Hoyt Nelson was born in 1922 and from this line I inherited this wonderful psychic gift. Isabel preferred being called "Bobbie". She was known as Mary Gardner in the Silent Movie era and was in many "matinee series". She particularly was proud of the fact that she often played the "bad lady". She was married only a couple of years to Bruce's father, after the divorce she lived with her mother in the upper New York area to raise Bruce. Bruce enlisted in the WWII military and Bobbie moved to Los Angeles California. After several marriages and losing my father in 1955 she lived alone in San Diego California until the early 1970's when she moved to Sacramento to be closer to me in her senior years. The year I started taking care of her was in the summer of 1972. She had been losing her sight and needed "family" who would take care of her. In her later years she had outlived all her family; and my sister had moved several times and was still single. My husband Larry and me had some difficult years taking care of her due to Bobbie losing her sight and then unfortunately her mental sanity. We were in a difficult position of placing her in a Senior Facility in Auburn California in 1981 until her passing in August of 1986.
We all have dreams and one of hers was to be a published author. She belonged to "New Thought Ministry" and was a minister and lectured in church. She claimed to be a Healer at one time and her family practiced the "Gift" within the secrecy of their homes.
I would like to acknowledge her life and her writing ability and be the first to publish her poem below. She wrote this in the 1960's.
A Poem she wrote later in Life
Uncle Jerry Bought a Farm
While I was living on my Uncle's farm
I learned a hawk can do much harm.
And so I told each farm beast,
And now they all know that...at least.
Last night while winding up my clock
I heard a tick but not a tock
And so I took it all apart
But could not make the tocker start.
I tried to milk dear Tess, the cow
But she would moo, "You're hurting now.
If you stop pumping with my tail
Then I will fill your little pail.
At night when I would sing a song
Nightingales would come along
And sit and listen, and by and by
They'd say, "Why don't you try to fly?"
When I went strolling down the country lane
I met a man with a crooked cane.
He said, "This cane grew on a tree".
I could not see how that could be -
Unless it was a crooked tree.
And once I walked out in the rain
And met a man who told people he had no brain.
"I don't know what I am about"
He said, "Or I would not be out."
And I went fishing in the brook
And caught a tadpole with my fishing hook.
I threw him back, he was so nice
I thought I'd like to catch him twice.
Some nights I liked to watch the moon
And once when I heard a silly loon,
Who said, "If you don't use your knowledge now
Why not be college bound?"
When I walked to the village store
I always knock at some friend's door
But if I find they are away
Well then I knock another day.
One day I dug a hold too deep
And piled the dirt up in a heap
I know that I disturbed the worms
For now they're not on speaking terms.
While I was filling up my pail
I heard the voice of a Cottontail
He said, "If you have time to spare
I'd like to introduce myself as 'Mr. Cotton Hare'."
Each time that I come through the gate
There sits an owl who stays up late.
He screams at me, "You're Who? You're Who??"
And I scream back, "It's I, that's who."
One sunny day while I was sitting on the hill
A bird sat there who had no bill.
I asked him if he'd seen my cat.
He did not care to answer that.
One noon I walked along the road
And saw a friendly grinning toad.
He said, "I'd like some time of day
Have you some time to give away?"
Where I go swimming in the pond
A willow tree grows just beyond.
I'd like my house built on it's bough
But because I'm just 10, I don't know how.
I hope you like my life on the farm
And enjoyed my book,
For all the verses that I took
To tell you what I've seen and done
I could not tell all my stories, you know
Time has gone so fast and I write so slow.
For you see I am just a boy 10 years old.
But, if you'd like to read some more
I'm am glad! My book was not a bore.
Isabel Hoyt Nelson Miller
Written in the 1960's