Virginia Cowan, Dtr. of Robert and Anna
Virginia was born in 1903 and died in 1918 at fifteen years old, in the same year that her grandpa died. She had the nickname Virgie. Story?
When Robert and Anna moved from Lisbon, they apparently moved to Norwich, N.D. which is near Granville. In 1905 when Virgie was just two years old, they filed a homestead claim three miles south of Douglas, ND. Three years later in 1908 Robert began carrying the mail there for the Postal Service.
In 1915, three years befor Virgie died, they moved from the farm into the town of Douglas and it was at Douglas that she died and was buried. Robert and Anna continued to live in town at Douglas and he worked as a mail carrier there until his retirement in 1949. I wonder about if part of the reason that they stayed at Douglass those many years was that they didn't want to leave the daugher they loved so much and taken in the prime of her life alone.
A verse from a poem Robert wrote during their time at Douglas may tell a bit about how he felt:
My Cross, sometimes is a weary thing too hard to bear.
A tiny ugly thing, it floods my life in helpless care,
But with his love, I, Too, will make that cross of gold,
And pour the dark, tear stained wood into his mold.
When Robert and Anna moved from Lisbon, they apparently moved to Norwich, N.D. which is near Granville. In 1905 when Virgie was just two years old, they filed a homestead claim three miles south of Douglas, ND. Three years later in 1908 Robert began carrying the mail there for the Postal Service.
In 1915, three years befor Virgie died, they moved from the farm into the town of Douglas and it was at Douglas that she died and was buried. Robert and Anna continued to live in town at Douglas and he worked as a mail carrier there until his retirement in 1949. I wonder about if part of the reason that they stayed at Douglass those many years was that they didn't want to leave the daugher they loved so much and taken in the prime of her life alone.
A verse from a poem Robert wrote during their time at Douglas may tell a bit about how he felt:
My Cross, sometimes is a weary thing too hard to bear.
A tiny ugly thing, it floods my life in helpless care,
But with his love, I, Too, will make that cross of gold,
And pour the dark, tear stained wood into his mold.