A website devoted to the Howard Clarke & Fannie Jones Glover descendents. If you are too young to remember the family pictures then you owe it to yourself to browse them. The family has grown so much that it is difficult to keep up with everyone. Let's not lose touch with our roots! 


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Stories as told by Family Members

Demopolis Alabama Roots

Gandy and Taylor (Clifford Banks Glover III and Sanford Taylor Glover) recorded a fact-finding excursion to Demopolis several yeas ago.  This is a funny video packed with facts that would have been lost - their investigative skills far exceed their videography skills. Click Here to view the 35 minute video.

Also, TJ Glover (Tom Junior's son) just recently made a similar trip. He found and recorded some great pics of ancestrial graves. And for those of you who remember his granddaddy Tom, you will appreciate his sense of humor as he recounts the process. Click Here.
Aural History
Cousin Cliff Glover recorded these prior to his death. Two great stories of his growing up in Newnan, and his service in World War II. Those of us who knew him will appreciate his deep melodic voice as well as the occasional laughter. We are fortunate to have this bit of recorded history.

Form Object

Sound Bytes - At the 2008 reunion, Brad Thatcher made these recordings of some of the music and more importantly, interviews with Uncle Cliff, Aunt Winnie and Uncle Howard.

Here is the transcript of a recording made of Aunt Jenny recollections of Mobile, New Orleans, the Ketchums and Denis...Click Here

While cleaning up some computer files, I found two more wonderful stories...  One was written by Aunt Mary Glover Nixon in April 1978 and put into a local time capsule.  It covers her memories of early Newnan.  This is a must-read.

A second story was a fiction/non-fiction story written by cousin Susan Glover Logan, titled Aunt Penny.  This was a play on names as it was about her memories as a child visiting Aunt Jenny down in West Point Ga. (Virginia Glover Cook Graham)

Great Story about Aunt Mary Nixon from Judy (Nixon) Rountree

In the late 70's, Neal and I and the girls, Mary Kathryn (3) and Janey (1), were mid-way though a five year tour of duty at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. Neal was the deputy Staff Judge Advocate and the SJA was Col. Moteleski, currently the senior Col. in the Marine Corps. We were very close to the Moteleskies, and when they heard Aunt Mary and Uncle Karl were coming for a visit, they decided to have a dinner party for them. Both the Colonel and his wife were charming people and entertained in gracious and elegant surroundings in their beautiful home. So, we all dressed up, along with several other senior officers and their wives, for what was sure to be a grand evening.

Following a  delicious,candle- lit dinner, everyone rose from the table and proceeded to the living room. Aunt Mary detoured to the powder room which was down a long hallway directly off (and in full view of) the living room. We were all chatting quietly when all of a sudden Uncle Karl  leaned forward and said  "Mary!" with a voice you rarely heard from Uncle Karl. Startled, we all turned to look at Aunt Mary.

And there she was..walking slowly on the thick beige wool carpet, trailing a perfect line of unbroken toilet paper, out the powder room door and right down the middle of that long hallway. All I could think of was that a very small bride should be following her any minute. As she later said, "All I did was pull up my girdle".

Funnily enough, what we all remembered the most and the longest was all the laughter, and Aunt Mary, who could have been embarrassed, even mortified, laughed the longest of all. Neal and the Colonel laughed so much they had tears rolling down their faces. It was an evening to remember, and another reminder of how comfortable Aunt Mary always was with herself..even in extreme circumstances!

I know the girls join me in wishing all of you a joyous and fun-filled family reunion.

With Love, Judy Rountree 

Caroline Harkleroad      February 8, 2011

Yes, I call her The Queen. Today marks my second anniversary  hanging out at 634 Wesley Drive, watching Queen Klein juggle family events, a rockin' social calendar, weekly hair appointments, endless games of bridge and poker, countless phone calls to and from her mega big extended family, cooking the famous family recipes, and sharing vivid and rollicking memories of her long and lush life. A Queen wears only the right jewelry with the right clothes. A proper handbag must match each outfit to a tee. Hair is fixed perfectly and makeup is flawlessly applied even when absolutely nothing is happening. Grapefruit must be purchased with exactly the right rind and bread must have exactly the right softness. Pecans are a staple. Homemade pies are delivered to sick friends. Medicine is a nuisance and highly scorned.  Kindness is paramount. Generosity overflows.  I love working with Winnie Glover Boone Klein, aka The Queen.  (She occasionally calls me Slave so I think we're even).

Our driving issue begins in the garage. It takes all of my courage and great intensity to back the monster mobile out of the tiny opening. At least that's the way I see it. It takes me about 10 minutes just to get the car out, moving the car back and forth numerous times to line it up just exactly right, then I sneak out at a snail's pace, watching both of those big mirrors squeek past the doorframe. I am exhausted by the time I hit the driveway. She is already impatient. I've learned to get the car out while she is still getting dressed. I can only deal with one of them at a time.

We've been lost in Clinton, S.C., Savannah, Newnan, Rome, Spring Island, and Thomasville. I've totally missed the Newnan exit about 5 times and went 20 miles the wrong way outside of Rome. We've even been on a lonely two -laner on the way to nowhere in the looming darkness with an empty gas needle.. No signs. No people. Abandoned trailer parks. Happily we decided to enjoy the meadows and forest and assumed we would arrive somewhere sometime. We did. But it was unsettling. This is how we travel.

And I have a chronic habit of gazing around and taking in the scenery everywhere I go and it makes Winnie crazy. We purchased a GPS, confidant that the cute little gizmo would help. Feeling excited and safe we named her "Echo" but I still get lost so Echo mostly just screams "Recalculate" which makes Winnie even crazier.

To make matters worse, we spend our drive time playing the Jotto word game which Winnie has had 70 (yes, seventy!) years to prefect and I am a rank beginner. As I struggle to drive AND remember all the twists and turns of the alphabet, she sits smugly in her seat doing nothing but scheming. Then I'm the one going crazy. She can be a really wicked Dame.

She has yelled " Step on It!" or " Green light&ldots;Go!" at every traffic light in the state of Georgia. It hasn't helped one bit. She has NEVER ONCE thought I took the most efficient route. No matter what streets I choose to take, she is convinced I've make terrible decisions. "Well, I would never have gone this way. Why are you on Piedmont? We'll never get there." 

No one told me it would be this way. Dan Boone is a big fat liar. 

My life in the kitchen started with all of her strange utensils. It began innocently enough with her drawers,  kind of like getting out of the garage. My first week of work I took it upon myself to organize the overstuffed room which could not hold one more toothpick. What does she do with all this stuff? I wondered. So&ldots;.out came not one but two card tables and I piled EVERYTHING from every drawer in a heap about 5 feet tall. After 3 days of effort, I left a small pile of throw aways. They looked ancient and obsolete to me and I saw no need for any of them. Lordy! Lordy! These were THE treasures, the bees knees of cookery! I sure got my come-uppance. What got thrown away? Yep, two knives.

In spite of what you may think, Winnie really doesn't like food. I could list on one hand what she likes to eat and it would take a hole to China to throw in what she doesn't like. She plays a good food game but she is picky,picky,picky. She does not like anything store bought. She does not like anything frozen. She eats leftovers only under duress. Corn? Only on the cob. Cornbread? Not too sweet. Worcheshire? Never. Microwave bacon? Yuk. A thick hearty soup? Mostly the liquid&ldots;just kill the other stuff. Veggies? Naw.

Add that to the fact that I can't cook worth a flip (just ask my children) and you end up with kitchen confusion all the time. What to buy? What to prepare? In what quantity? I'm the one who cooked a hen in the TOP of the pan (yes, as opposed to the bottom of the pan) and thought milk toast should look like French toast and not mush in a cup. She won't admit it but she's a terrific cook so we've developed a great system. I read the recipe, measure the ingredients and stand back and watch her work her magic.

Our lowest point, though, was making sausage balls without the sausage. And, hard as this is to admit, we BOTH didn't even notice. She mixed everything up and I rolled the zillion little balls. Scary, eh?

I've learned a lot from her and can now (almost) make, mint/chocolate icing, peeled grapefruit, and  homemade mac and cheese. I'm also a rolo whiz.

Just don't ask how many pans we have burned this year. We spend a ridiculous amount of time scrubbing charred black crusty gunk from the mouth of Paul Revere. 

I cannot add or subtract. I cannot multiply. Without a calculator, I'm dead on the vine. A string of D minus's from grade 1 - 12 verifies this.( The teachers were too kind to fail me) So wouldn't you know that I'm currently working for a math whiz who can figure the cost of something down to the darn decimal point IN HER HEAD. I am in awe! If it has a digit, she's got it totally together. From card points to the cost of a tank of gas to the number of oz in ten pints, the numbers just jump out of her brain. This makes for some interesting conversations! But we love our words and have great fun together almost daily with the crossword puzzle. We can handle Monday, almost complete Tuesday, Wednesday takes us half a day, and by Thursday the half finished puzzle ends up in the trashcan. We're a great combo - I know the pop singers from the 80s and she knows farming terms from the 30s. A good generational team. 

I grew up in a board game family - Parcheesi was King and checkers was a favorite -but we weren't much for cards. Now I have learned to love Onze and Bolivia, thanks to the Queen for her deft instructions.

My admiration for women of the older generation has grown leaps and bounds since I've started hanging out in Winnie's world. This has been a wonderful learning curve for me. These women are fun, snappy, classy, filled with laughter and enthusiasm. They joke a lot about their own limitations and frailties so I have named them The BLD Society (the blind, the lame and the deaf). You haven't lived until you have hoisted a BLD into a deep, swirling hot tub or settled one of them into a rocking, weaving boat or overheard the intense counting of coins after a bridge game. Total take: 15 cents. Total time counting: 40 minutes.

As I left work yesterday, Winnie was sick with epizulits and looking forward to having some spondulics at dusk. Don't you know these words?  She was signing Valentine cards backwards, wearing her hot pink and blue hippo socks, and working Sudoku. You get the picture. She's pretty cool.