Charles Davis Wilson 1905-1985

Charles Davis Wilson, son of Charles Ragan and Dona Parks Wilson, was born in Camden County on November 11, 1905 and departed this life in Springfield, Missouri January 28, 1985, at the age of 79 years, two months, and 17 days.

Davis was united in marriage with Phoebe Bellington on December 5, 1932, and to this union was born five children. He is preceded in death by one daughter, Mary Ellen Kiser, also by his parents, and two grandsons, Billy Lee Edwards, and Ronald Dean Wilson.

He professed his faith in Christ, was baptized, and became a member of the Elm Grove Baptist Church, where he has remained a member.

Davis has lived and farmed in the Richland area most all of his life. He also drove a feed truck for the MFA, and retired there, and was also employed with Shell Pipeline for a short period of time. For nearly 40 years, Davis delivered papers for the St. Louis and Springfield newspapers and whenever possible delivered them with his team of mules and the wagon. He gained much pleasure in working with his team of mules and spent many hours with them. He often entered them in parades and has taken many cross country trips. Davis was a member of the Miniature Mule Association.

He is survived by his wife, Phoebe of the home; one son, Charles Davis Wilson, Jr. of Waukegan, Illinois; three daughters, Shirley Edwards of Crocker; Dona Beth Sippio of Loveland, Colorado and Peggy Mavis Beavens of Kansas City, Missouri; and his sisters, Fannie Alsup of St. James; Flora Fisher of Camdenton and Ruby Murphy of St. Louis; 12 grandchildren and four great grandchildren and other relatives and friends.

Funeral services were held Friday, February 1, 1985 at 10:00 a.m. at the Colonial Funeral Chapel with Rev. Damon Thomas officiating. Interment was in the Oaklawn Cemetery under the direction of the Colonial Funeral Chapels.

Escorts were: Eugene Edwards, Michael Kiser, Randy Edwards, Charles Davis Wilson III, James Sippio, and Jeff Kiser.

Honorary escorts were: Dwaine Yoder, Bernard Schneider, and Robert Goodwin.



This is a poem that is dedicated to my Granddad. He has inspired me so much, that I wish to offer him my thanks.

MY GRANDDAD

My Granddad isn’t any different than yours,
Except he does seem special to me.
He never had much to say,
But when he speaks, I listen.

He can recall his younger days,
Even though he is gray with age.
He can’t get around as well as he used to,
But he still never quits trying.

Fear is an unknown word to him,
For there is nothing he feels that can scare him,
Even untamed animals don’t bother him.
He has been working around them since birth.

My Granddad has a set time clock for himself,
Which he never breaks, no matter how ill he is.
It all begins at sun-up, and continues all day.
Even sometimes after the sun has gone down.

Just by looking at him,
You would never really know him.
It is only through fellowship
That you really get to know him.

He has experienced many heartaches,
From many different sources.
But through all the sorrow,
He always looks toward tomorrow.

I haven’t spent a whole lot of time with him,
But the time I have, Oh it was fun.
One day it will be Granddad’s turn to die,
And I will probably cry.

But until that time I will enjoy
Every moment I am around him,
My Grand Old Granddad

Randy Edwards