The Turnidge family began their westward movement from the time they entered the northeast part of North Carolina. They continued west as the opportunity arose, or the land was cleared. Now they are on the west coast in Oregon, Washington and California. Some have not stopped there. They have gone into Alaska and also, they have gone across the ocean. Several have become missionaries overseas, and a few have been in the Peace Corps. The latest missionary is Trude Higbee who went into Taiwan Mission in November of 1979. She is the granddaughter of Bessie Turnidge Higbee of Stanwood, Washington. Bessie is the fifth generation from Michael Turnidge.

In the early 1700's the name was spelled either Turnidge or Turnedge. Perhaps the i's often were written with a loop, and became e's. But soon spelling became a big problem. Education was not always the best, and also, people did not hear the name correctly. So it was spelled in many ways, especially on courthouse records of that early day. Finally by about 1727 the name had settled down to one one spelling, Turnage. At least this was the way the court house records were spelling it. So, this became the acceptable spelling for the Turnage family. Perhaps all the family didn't want to give up on the original spelling, but it seemed to be the best thing to do at the time.

The Turnage's were beginning to move into the central part (but was perhaps then the western part) of North Carolina. As new territory opened up, Turnages were pushing west.

Michael Turnage, by the beginning of the new century, was thinking of going into new territories out of North Carolina. He was, perhaps, thinking of the original spelling of the name, and was concerned why it was changed. We don't know the time he left with his family, or the time the name was changed back, but he went into Tennessee for several years, then on into Missouri, which was not a state.

By 1816, Elder William Turnidge, the Village Preacher of Bluffton, was a circuit rider, in the little village of Bluffton, Missouri. The town is now called Camden. The town overlooks the raging Missouri River. Elder William Turnidge was the oldest son of Michael Turnidge, who now lived across the river in Lillard Co., Missouri (now known as Lafeyette Co., Missouri).

The spelling of the name was still a problem. The census records and county records were still spelling the name wrong. It was spelled Tonnage, Tunage, and also Turnage. For about 50 years Turnidge family fought to keep the name spelled correctly.

Sometime after the Civil War, the Turnidge family had a long talk. Should we go back to the North Carolina spelling? Of course, there were differences of opinion. By this time, three of the sons of Elder William Turnidge had died. Jesse Calvin had been killed in the Civil War. Jospeh Warren and Harrison had died as early pioneers in Oregon. Elder John T. was soon to go into southern Missouri, and later into Oregon. Elder William Turnidge was elderly.

So, some of the Turnidge family remaining in Missouri at that time, decided to definitely change the name back to the spelling as it was before 1800, Turnage. Elder John Turnidge and his brother's families left the spelling as it was.

For the Turnidges in Oregon, or the Turnidges who had left Oregon, the spelling has remained to this day. I have only come in contact with one Turnidge family that were not from this Oregon group. They said they were direct from England.

My father often said that one of his great-grandfathers (either William Turnidge or his father Michael Turnidge. Michael Turnidge was the son of Joseph Turnage, killed in the Revolutionary War.) changed the name back to the original spelling. He liked that spelling. But I think both names should be cherished. Both names are a part of our heritage. The problems of name were only some of the problems the pioneers went through. our Turnidge-Turnage family helped make America great! Soon we will b e entering a new century. Let's be a strong family group to help keep it that way!"
by Helen Turnidge Stover
 "A good name is rather to be chosen that great riches." Proverbs 22:1a

Paul,

Heaven protect thee thou innocent one!

The way of life is rough and thorny and often may its flinty rocks wound thy onward treading feet, and its sharp thrones pierce thy hand so eagerly extended to pluck its tempting fruits.

Gather up thy strength for the battle of life thou child of many prayers, for it shall prove to be a severe conflict. Be bold, be steadfast, be patient, be trustful, be truthful and God shall bear thee nobly thru the struggle.

Love, Mother

I envision, Grandma Nellie would have written a letter like this to my dad if she could have:

January, 1937

Dear Paul,

There are times when being a sensitive soul is a curse for those of us endowed with tender temperaments feel life deeply. When I held you in my arms for the first time, looked at your tiny face, and felt your skin, soft and smooth beneath my touch, I thanked God for the depth of mother love. I knew in that moment that forever and always my heart belonged to you.

When you said momma for the very first time, the tentacles of you wrapped even tighter around my heart. I thought it would burst with pride that you knew my name, and that I belonged to you. Your first steps brought a smile to my eyes, and a prayer to my lips, “Oh, God, my son will take many steps before he walks through the eastern gate of heaven, please be his constant guide. May his feet lead him in paths of righteousness, away from evil, into obedience to Your will.”

Ah, yes, the joys of a sensitive soul. But, tonight I know the deep sorrow that sensitivity brings. For, my heart is troubled, and my imaginings for your tomorrows are filled with sorrow. You see, tiny son, I sense in my spirit that soon I will leave to enter eternity. Next week, next month, perhaps in the spring . . . I’m certain I will not live to see the beginning of another year. Heaven’s sounding sweeter every day. If it were not for leaving your father, Fred, and you and your brother, Jim, I would go home today so great is the pain in my body. But, I have you, and I am willing to endure the anguish of illness, if it means being with you.

You’ll weep, dear Paul, when I am gone - you will not understand. Four is much too young to lose your mother. Jim is only seven. Oh, how much I love you. I don’t understand. I’ve begged God for a few more years - for time to see you grow into manhood. You may be angry that He’s taken me home - but, try to remember that the Father knows what’s best.

I’m trying to remember that tonight, but it’s very, very hard. The Father knows what’s best, but who will care for my babies? Your father will make certain that you have food, and water, clothing, and a bed. But, son, there are needs that you will have that I wanted to take care of for myself. I wanted to come to you when you cried out in the night. I wanted to wipe your tears, and to soothe your skinned knees. I wanted to hold you, and to teach you how to pray. I wanted to teach you about life, and to prepare you for love. Now, it seems that another will perform that sacred role. I pray that God will send you another mother, but don’t forget the one who gave you birth.

I’m crying now, my words blurring beneath my pen. It’s been a good life, son, I can’t complain, but it’s been much too short.

I remember when I pledged my love to your daddy, Fred on June 20, 1926. You were just a dream then. Your daddy was three years my senior, and not much taller than I, but he was my hero. I was only nineteen, but fancied myself to be a grown woman. Standing there beside him, I felt like a queen - me in my simple, white cotton gown, and he in his worn, Sunday-best suit. It wasn’t fancy, but I didn’t care. We had each other, and vowed that we would face tomorrow together.

I know I’ve told you many times, “Son, don’t ever break a promise.“ So forgive me, dear, for breaking mine. I'm not well. The doctor says it’s my heart. Maybe one day you will grow up, and learn to care for the sicknesses of women like your mother. Whatever you choose to do with your life, son, do it with integrity.

Life hasn’t been easy for your momma. I’ve lived through three economic depressions in my brief lifetime: 1907-08, 1920-21, 1929-33. I was only a baby during the first, but I was a youngster of 13 during the second. I was so afraid, and was certain I would never live to marry, or be a mother. It was a sad time, but a good time for it was then that I came to personal faith in Jesus Christ. Though life was still hard, after that I had peace. I folded His promise to my heart, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” And, he hasn’t.

I was a young momma during the third depression having given birth to your brother, Jim and three years later to you. My faith was solid, but many nights I lay awake wondering if we would survive. As long as the cow didn’t go dry, I knew I’d have milk for you, but beyond that I was never sure. “Give us this day our daily bread,” was my constant prayer.

We’ve had three great years, though there's talk that another depression is surely headed our way. I can’t even entertain thoughts such as those. If I’m not here, who will care for you?

You won’t read this letter for a long time to come - perhaps not until you are a man. I pray my life has not been lived in vain. I pray that I will leave my mark on this world in some small way. That somehow I will leave a legacy that will pass down to my children, and they to theirs.

I read today in Hebrews 12:1, “Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance, and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith . . .“ Maybe God will let me watch from heaven, son. If he does, I will cheer you on. I will watch my tiny son become a giant of a man.

You will be a giant of a man, whatever your stature, if you come to faith in Jesus Christ. Don’t be afraid, son, whatever tomorrow brings. We have a great Heavenly Father who will care for you. One day, when your work on earth is done, He will bring you home to me. Look for me, Paul. I‘ll be waiting for you just inside the eastern gate.

Love,

Mother

August 7, 2008

Dear Grandma Nellie,

Nellie Evelana Turnage Hunter. I am 55 years old, so why is it that I suddenly have this need to talk to a grandmother I have never known?

Grandpa was born on December 8, 1904 - almost a Christmas baby. You were born in the late fall, on October 28, 1907. If you and Grandpa had lived you would celebrate your 83rd anniversary this year. You would be 101 and Grandpa would be 104. Over a century old. You would be amazed at the changes a century has brought.

I have a picture of you and Grandpa Fred Edwin Hunter. I framed it years ago and look at whenever I need to see your face. It is my favorite of the few I have of you. The picture was taken on your wedding day, June 20, 1926. He was 21, and you were only 19 when you wed.

Though it’s faded with the passing of time, the picture is still clear. You are standing beside your sweetheart in your simple wedding dress. You were lovely, and he was handsome. You had each other, and you were in love.

I think I know why I need you now. Life has thrown some curve balls, and I am facing with my mom some of the struggles you faced so many years ago when your own health took a downturn. Dad and Mom have both had their battles with cancer. Tomorrow my mom has tests to see about her heart and we don’t know what the outcome will be. How did you do it? How did you face an uncertain future with such courage? I guess I need to know who this mother was that left my father so soon, yet impacted his life so profoundly.

Your eldest son Jim was 7 years and 7 months old, and my dad, Paul, was 4 years and 8 months old when you died. They were just little boys. Dad remembers the last time he saw you. You were in the back of an ambulance waving goodbye. You were being taken to St. Luke’s hospital suffering with heart problems of one kind or another. Did you know how sick you were? Did you know in your mother-heart that it would be the last time you saw Fred, Jim and Paul? You died early in the spring of 1937, on April the 4^th at 29 years of age, just 6 months shy of your 30th birthday. Your death came 2 months and 16 days short of granddad's 31^st birthday.

Even though he was very young, my dad has a memory of your funeral. Not long ago he, my mom and I took a trip down memory lane, ending in front of the Baptist church where your funeral was held in Byers, Colorado. Dad recalled for us how difficult that day was. He remembers sitting on the front pew feeling very sad. At some point he turned and glanced at the woman behind him. She smiled and for years dad was angry at her for having the audacity to show happiness at your funeral. It wasn't until many years later that he realized she smiled because she was being kind. It wasn't an "I'm happy" smile - it was a "Honey, my heart is breaking for you, what will you do without a mother?" smile.

Grandpa Fred became a newly widowed father of two young sons. Not only was he grieving, but he was faced with yet another economic depression this time without you at his side. He must have felt so overwhelmed, afraid and alone.

According to history, the United States experienced four economic depressions during your brief lifetime: 1907-08, 1920-21, 1929-33, and 1937-38. You were just a baby during the first. A young teen of 13 and 14 during the second. You were a young momma during the third depression having given birth to your firstborn son, Jim and then to my father, Paul. Did you lie awake at night wondering if you would survive? How you were going to feed your babies? If they had a tomorrow to look forward to?

I've read some of your writings and can't help but wonder if facing difficult days was key to your strong faith in God. Thankfully, you had four short years before the third and fourth depression when the country was once again thrown into the throes of economic instability. The final depression occurred in 1937. Had it already begun by the time you left home? If so, that must have added to your anguish when you left for the hospital that day. You lived through the worst of the great depression, only to die of heart problems. Sometimes life doesn't seem fair.

How I wish you lived today. The wonders of modern medicine could have healed your broken body, I know it could have. It’s amazing what they can do with medication and surgery these days.

You lived such a short life. Did you ever wonder if you would leave a mark on your world? You did, you know. I know (again from your writings) that you were a sensitive soul, that you felt things deeply. I guess I'm cut from your mold.

Thank you for the legacy you handed down to our family, to me. I know so little, but I know that you loved your God, you loved your children, and you loved to write. Me too, me too, me too.

You would be proud of your son, my dad. Hebrews 12:1 talks about witnesses, “Therefore, since we have so great a could of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumberance, and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith . . .“ I don’t know why, but it makes me wonder if you are in the crowd, cheering him on. Surely, the Father has told you all about your tiny son who became a giant of a man.

I don’t know a lot about heaven, certainly not as much as you now know. I’m hoping God will tell you all the things I’m writing here. Heaven’s getting sweeter all the time as my investment there grows. Did you know that you have two great-grandbabies there? I bet you do and that they know you and Granddad as well. That gives me comfort.

You’d like for my dad to be with you wouldn’t you? You'd like to finally meet the woman who has faithfully loved him these many years, huh? One day, but not just yet Grandma Nellie. I really need them for awhile longer.

From the picture, I can see that you were a slight woman, but I bet you could give a great hug.

I need one today.

Love,

Ronda

75. Janet Turnage Shoelen (1933) daughter of
74. Nona Pierce Turnage (1908) daughter of

73. Alice Stone Pierce (1877-1956) daughter of

72. Olive Bourn Stone (1844-1917) daughter of

71. Olive Ballou Bourn (1804-1872) daughter of

70. Silas Ballou (1777-1863) son of

69. Silas Ballou (1753-1837) (Rev. War hero. Brother of Elizabeth, the mother of President James A. Garfield.

68. James Ballou (1723-1812) son of

67. Catherine Arnold Ballou (1690- ) daughter of

66. Elisha Arnold (d.1708) son of

65. Steven Arnold (1622-1699) son of

64. William Arnold (1586-1676) (settled R.I. 1636) son of

63. Thomas Nicholas Arnold, son of

62. Richard Arnold, son of

61. Richard Arnold, son of

60. Thomas Arnold, son of

59. Joan Gamage Arnold, daughter of

58. Sir Thomas Gamage, son of

57. Sir William Gamage, son of

56. Gilbert DeGamage, son of

55. Sarah deTurberville Gamage, daughter of

54. Gwenllian Talbot Tuberville, daughter of

53. Sarah Beauchamp Talbot, daughter of

52. Maud Fitzjohn de Beauchamp (d. 1301) daughter of

51. John Fitzjohn, son of

50. Lady Isabel Bigod, daughter of

49. Sir Ralph Bigod, son o

48. Hugh Bigod (d. 1225) son of

47. Lady Isabella Plantagenet deWarren, daughter of

46. Lady Isabella deWarren, daughter of

45. William deWarren (3^rd Earl of Surry) son of

44. Isabella of Vermandois, daughter of

43. Adele, Countess of Vermandois (d.1120) daughter of

42. Count Herbert IV, son of

41. Otho, Count of Vermandois (d. 1045) son of

40. Herbert III (955-1000) son of

39. Count Albert I of Vermandois (920-988) son of

38. Count Herbert II (880-943) son of

37. Count Herbert I , son of

36. Count Pepin (817-840) son of

35. Bernard, King of Lombardy (797-818) son of

34. Pepin, King of Lombardy (781-810) son of

33. Charlemagne, Emperor of the West, (747-814) son of

32. Pepin the Short, King of France, (714-768) son of

31. Charles Martel, King of France (689-741) son of

30. Pepin d’Hersital (d. 714) son of

29. Anchises (d.685) son o

28. St. Arnolph, Bishop of Metz (d.641) son of

27. Arnoul, Bishop of Metz (d. 601) son of

26. Blithildes, daughter of

25. Clothaire I, King of France (497-561) son of

24. Clovis the Great, King of France (497-561) son of

23. Childeric I, King of France (436-481) son of

22. Merovee, King of France (d. 458) son of

21. Clodio the Longhaired, King of Westphalia, son of

20. Pharamond, King of Westphalia, son of

19. King Marcomir (d.404) son of

18. King Clodius I (D.389) son of

17. King Dogbert (d.317) son of

16. Genebald I, Duke of the East Franks, (d.350) son of

15. King Daagobert (d.317) son of

14. King Walter (d.306) son of

13. King Clodius III (d.298) son of

12. King Bartherus (d.272) son of

11. King Hilderic (d.253) son of

10. King Sunno (d.213) son of

9. King Farabert (d.186) son of

8. Clodomir IV, King of the Franks (d.166) son of

7. Athildis, daughter of

6. Old King Cole, King of Britain, A.D. 125, son of

5. Marius, son of

4. Venissa Julia, daughter of

3. Tiberius Claudius Caesar, Emperor of Rome, son of

2. Antonia, daughter of

1. Mark Anthony (b.83 B.C.)