Hager
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Hager Densford Garriott (1886 - 1965)

Generation #5

Hager was the youngest of 8 children born to Augustus Garriott and Martha Densford on November 2, 1886. He died on December 2, 1965 and is buried at Mt. Carmel Cemetery in Scottsburg, IN. Hager married Emma Estelle Mitchell on May 23, 1909. Emma Estelle was the fourth child of six and had one twin sister (Mabel), born to George Harvey Mitchell and Emily Knipe, on June 5, 1884. She died one year after Hager in 1966 and is also buried at Mt. Carmel.

Hager and Estelle had 9 children:hager2.jpg (8932 bytes)

  1. Courtney Mitchell (1910 - 1934)
  2. Mabel Margaret (1912 - 1913)
  3. George Augustus (1913 - 1999)
  4. Martha Amelia (1916 - 1987)
  5. Orville Lyman (1919)
  6. Hubert Milton (1921 -1992)
  7. Hager Junior (1924)
  8. Beulah Estelle (1929 - 1930)
  9. Myrtle LaRue(1932)

Hager Garriott followed in his father’s footsteps of maintaining the family farm and acreage. They operated the Garriott Sawmill, started in 1933 and is still in use today.

hager1.jpg (6406 bytes)There have been many recollections of Hager and Estelle throughout these newsletters. I recently asked Dad (George Garriott) if he would write any additional thoughts on his parents - here is what he sent: One day I was helping my dad sort out some cows but I opened the wrong gate and ruined the whole project, they went into the wrong field. He proceeded to pick up a flimsy tree branch and give me a whipping. It didn’t hurt much but I yelled loud enough, they could hear me half way to Little York. That is the only time I can remember that he whipped me. I was a good boy in school too, if I got a whipping there, I also got one at home. He backed the teachers 100%.

Two phrases he often used were "live up to your potential" and "pride of ownership." I think he scored an A+ on both. His buildings were always in good repair and were kept well painted.

For several years he was afraid of getting TB, I think his brother died of that. So he followed a program of exercise and deep breathing. One of his favorite exercises was riding his horse at full gallop and swinging his arms behind him, bringing the backs of his hands together. He even spent some time at a Health Spa in Martinsville, IN. No sign of TB ever.

He was what I call a self-styled perfectionist. When he made a farm gate or a hog trough it had to be perfect in every detail. His corn rows had to be as straight as a gun barrel and it was strictly unlawful for a weed to be found anywhere in the field. On the other hand, he always said, "you have to eat a peck of dirt before you die anyway, so what’s the difference?"

He always thought his dreams had some basic, underlying meaning for him. Quite often the family breakfast conversation would focus on his dream, or its interpretation, of the previous night. For instance, "a dream out of season meant trouble out of reason" (such as cutting wheat in January).

"Do we have to go to church today, it’s almost zero out there?" "Sure do and be on time!" Sometimes we thought his rules of religion were a little too rigid but there was a deep family respect for his Christian principles. He lived by those principles and by example and training, taught them to his family. I am sure we all appreciate the effect and influence this had on our developmental years.

I feel that he lived a full, complete life and was very successful in his multiple, diversified farming operations.