Together again

Charles and Alice were reunited in heaven on February 11, 2013. He proposed to her on Valentine's Day in 1938, so they had a love affair of nearly 70 years. Alice's memorial page is AliceSwingle.Blogspot.com.

Grandpa and Grandma overlooking the packing house operations

This was the last time Joyce and I were able to get to the farm for Pumpkin Days. I believe it was 2001.
Rich

Left to right: Joyce (Rich's wife), Judy, Charlie, Charles, Alice.

Memories of Charles

Charles, Judy, Bob and Rich,

 

We just read Rich's note concerning the passing of Charle's father.  Our prayers are with you all.  Our lives have been richly blessed by each of you.  Our prayer for you is that God's confort and peace will fill that place in your heart that is grieving the loss of Charlie.

We love you.

 

Ron and Deb Mulkey

(Ron & Deb were Rich & Bob's youth pastors when they were in high school.)

I'm so sorry about the loss of your grandfather.

I trust God is being just what all of you need during these tender days.
Colin Saxton
Superintendant
Northwest Yearly Meeting of Friends

John Hall Wheelock tribute

In the quiet before cockcrow when the cricket's Mandolin falters, when the light of the past Falling from the high stars yet haunts the earth And the east quickens, I think of those I love- Dear men and women no longer with us.

And not in grief or regret merely but rather With a love that is almost joy I think of them, Of whom I am part, as they of me, and through whom I am made more wholly one with the pain and the glory, The heartbreak at the heart of things.

I have learned it from them at last, who am now grown old A happy man, that the nature of things is tragic And meaningful beyond words, that to have lived Even if once only, once and no more, Will have been-oh, how truly-worth it.

The years go by: March flows into April, The sycamore's delicate tracery puts on Its tender green; April is August soon; Autumn , and the raving of insect choirs, The thud of apples in moonlit orchards;

Till winter brings the slant, windy light again On shining Manhattan, her towering stone and glass; And age deepens-oh, much is taken, but one Dearer than all remains, and life is sweet Still, to the now enlightened spirit. . .

Truly, to me they now may come no more, But I to them in reverie and remembrance Still may return, in me they still live on; In me they shall have their being, till we together darken in the great memory.

Dear eyes of delight, dear youthful tresses, foreheads Furrowed with age, dear hands of love and care- Lying awake at dawn, I remember them, With a love that is almost joy I remember them; Lost, and all mine, all mine, forever. John Hall Wheelock

Thank you, Uncle Charles

Thank you, Uncle Charles, for sharing your farm .

Thank you for allowing me to think I could ride the sheep.

Thank you for the climbs in the hay stacks.

Thank you for the run in the fields.

Thank you for the fresh apples and pears off the trees.

Thank you for the the milk house and the fresh cream that came off the top.

Thank you for the cozy bed and the sweet smell of the farm on those visits so long ago.

Thank you for the cow pies that would squeeze up between my toes.

Thank you for the calm quiet direction and the smile in approval.

Thank you for the cool dips in the pool when the weather was way hot.

Thank you for the wind that would blow through the big tree by the house and the sweet smells that would come from the flowers.

Thank you for being a great Uncle and a man who left many memories.

Bless you in your new home and I know that you are singing and laughing.

The little city girl,

Mary Beth

What is a big brother for?

Charles:

What is a big brother for?
Not just to love and adore.
He comforts us when we have silent fears,
And brushes away salty tears.
With a steady hand he guides us
Across the scorching sand.
He shares his coat when it is cold,
And when need be, he can scold.
He picks the splinters from our feet,
And sometimes a cholla from our seat.
It is a comfort we all share
Just to know that he is there.

by Cecil Swingle

Photo of a cholla.
Originally uploaded
by Anita Gould.

Grandpa in his chair

Thoughts of Grandpa from across the ocean!

To family and friends of Grandpa,

I am sending my thoughts and love from Germany, across the Atlantic and many the miles across the USA to Oregon to all, but especially to Grandma, Dad and Uncle Charlie. I am sorry that I am unable to attend the service, such a long trip is unfortunately very difficult to get organized on a short notice.

I have so many fond memories of visiting the farm, going camping in the trailer, and finding doodle bugs in the sand on the side of a trail, looking for pretty rocks that Grandpa might be able to make into jewelry.

I am glad to have been able to visit so many family and friends over the Christmas holidays, especially seeing Grandma and Grandpa.

Grandpa, wir werden Dich sehr vermissen! Ich liebe Dich!

With love,

Jeff

Eulogy for Uncle Charles

Hello.

My name is Doug Hensler. I am the second son of Tommy Hensler, Alice Swingle's little brother. I know my dad's sister and her husband as Aunt Alice and Uncle Charles. I have known them for over 57 years now, or I should say they known me that long.

I think my earliest recollection of Aunt Alice and Uncle Charles is probably from when I was three or four years old. It was at Grandma and Grandpa's house on Main Street in Medford. Grandma and Grandpa had retired from the farm on which they raised Alice, Mary, and Tommy . . . and Florence until she died. Back then there wasn't much in the way of medicine so that happened a lot - young people dying.

I remember that house on Main Street; it seemed so huge at the time. I remember Christmas there, sitting in Grandpa's lap, him handing me a five-dollar bill (my older brother claims that he never got a five dollar bill . . . but he was an ill-behaved child). Grandpa loved Abraham Lincoln, that's why the five dollar bill. Because Tommy, Dad, was the youngest of the offspring, I was too young and Grandpa too old to have sat on his lap at the farmhouse, so I missed the chance to spend time on Grandpa's farm.

But I got just as good. I got time on Aunt Alice and Uncle Charles' farm. For a number of years, I guess until I got into high school and discovered girls, I would spend two or three weeks in the summer on the farm.

That's an experience that every youngster should have. Spending time on a family farm is also a privilege, nearly a sacrament of spirit from which a young child gains things that cannot be obtained anywhere else. Spending time on a family farm is fresh air, livestock, walking the lane, running through the alfalfa, hiding behind the walnut trees, eating all kinds of fresh vegetables and fruits. It is also riding a seven foot go cart with an 11 horse power engine and a reverse brake, making paper out of wood, designing and launching missiles, concocting pyrotechnic chemicals . . . maybe for the sake of Aunt Alice I should stop with that.

Spending time on a family farm is being chased down the lane by huge, gigantic white geese and having Uncle Charles tell you to chase them right back. It's having a new born calf named after you. Thing is, I am pretty sure that some calves had rotating names and that calves' names are genderless. Spending time on a family farm is also attempting to show one's mettle by trying to hoist irrigation pipe, lifting gut busting hay bales, driving the tractor.

Spending time on a family farm is getting slivers in one's hands so that Aunt Alice can dig them out. And it's learning to watch where you step, else you plant your nice new sneakers squarely into a fresh cow pie.

These are all things that every child should experience for the conscious memories, for sure, but also for a more subtle reason than those conscious memories. This more subtle reason, and more important reason, is that there exists on the family farm a simple, elegant logic of life.

This logic is pure, but not innocent. A man does not get up at 4:00 in the morning to milk cows, work solid all day, then go out at 8:00 at night after supper and move irrigation pipes and remain innocent. A man does not sweat through a bad pear harvest and remain innocent. A man does not survive a tree falling on him, crushing his rib cage, and remain innocent.

However, through all that loss of innocence, on the family farm there remains a clarity of mind, a soundness of body, a strength of soul, and a purity of logic that makes life much more explainable, and life's purpose much more understandable. This logic is that a man's word is sacred, that the only ethical issue at hand is asking oneself, "Why would I try to hide what I am doing?", and that words like loyalty . . dedication . . . honor . . . work . . . faith are good words . . . daily words . . . words that course through the farmer's veins and therefore define him. This logic escapes some of those occupying corporate executive suites and mutual fund trading rooms; they are the ones that didn't get time on a family farm when they children.

There is a story, The Horse Whisperer. Like Uncle Charles, the horse whisperer is also a man of the land and of livestock. He possesses purity of logic, but he is not always complete.

There is a passage where the young girl Grace asks the horse whisperer, "Are you afraid of anything, Tom Booker?" to which the horse whisperer replies, "Of growing old. Being of no use."

Well, that's the thing, isn't it; you know, the incomplete part. For a child that gets to spend time on a family farm, the farmer can grow old and he can die, but he continues to be of immense use. And so it is with Uncle Charles. The time I spent on the farm, the gentle words of guidance, the desire to satisfy my curiosity yet kindle more curiosity, the simple forms of humor, and the respectful memories of those times are of immense use to me and continue to serve me as I grow old and wonder if I am of any use. That is the chain of life that bonds all those who experience the family farm. We are better, we are more complete, because of that experience, because we knew the farmer, because we knew Uncle Charles.

Memories of Charles

We learn from every person we meet during our lives.
From my dear Uncle Charles I learned:
The power of words spoken quietly.
The strength of enduring love.
The satisfaction of working my hands in the soil.
How to whistle with my fingers.
The difference between a bull and a steer.
I will think of him often, with love and great fondness.
Mary K.

Our prayers are with you and your family!

Dave Maurer
(Friend of Rich Swingle)

Memories of Charles

I have such fond and warm memories of visiting "the farm" and my Uncle Charles and Aunt Alice!  From the times my mom, Mary, would pack us girls into the car for visits with her sister, Alice, to riding bicycles out to swim in the summer, to our annual "pumpkin" visits with our families.  Over 50 years of being welcomed by a smiling, patient,  Uncle Charles. 

What fun times for family gatherings with aunts, uncles, grandma, cousins and cousin's cousins, in-laws and friends.

 

And Uncle Charles would open up his home and his heart to us with each visit.  Allowing us to see the animals, pester the bulls, climb the "cliffs", turn his back as we scampered up the silo, scream and yell in the pool, pick his fruit and just be kids.

 

He was a wonderful man, husband, father, grandfather, brother and uncle.  So hard-working and so proud of his family. A very special person to grow up with and a true role model for those who knew and loved him!  

Love,
Alice Doyle

 

 

 

 

Memories of Charles

Uncle Charles had such a quiet and gentle spirit and a beautiful smile. I know that Jack would want me to say thanks for the love and support that was given to him when he was young by both Uncle Charles and Aunt Alice. I loved his sharp mind and knowledge of so many things. He was a great human being and he will be missed.

My love to all the family,

Patsy Brophy

Memories of Charles

Visiting Uncle Charles

 

Waking up before light I could hear you moving around

Getting ready to start your work day

While all I would do was play

If I was lucky, I would get to see you at supper

Which was always a natural upper

 

The summers were always hot

And you made sure the pool was ready for us little snots

We loved the smell of the hay and cow poop

Stay out of the barn you would say

With a smile on your face as you went away

And we would quickly scamper over the barn stoop

 

The occasional ride on the tractor

Was quite spectacular

And we all dreamed of the day we could drive

With some having the guts to try

 

There was always a glint in your eye

As you spoke about the farm

It seemed it could never bring any harm

As long as we believed in the sky

 

With my love and fondest memories.  You are in Gods hands now.

 

John Hensler

 

 

 

 

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Jim Acord dropped by

Charlie, Judy, & Mrs. Swingle,

The Lord will shelter you with his mighty wings and give you peace.

Jim & Debbie Acord (Charlie's neighbors)

Memories of Charles

I remember the short ride to the mail box in the doorless jeep.  I felt so special because my Uncle Charles knew I needed a little extra attention.  Memories are only glimpses of the spirit of this man.  May God hold and keep him in his hands.

Judy (Hensler) Bailey

Dear Grandma, Charlie and Fred:

My prayers are with you as you mourn the passing of Grandpa Swingle into the arms of the Lord Jesus Christ. You have been faithful to this beloved one, and I now pray that the Lord be faithful to you with his comfort and presence.

In Jesus' Name.

Love, Joyce

(Joyce Swingle, Charlie & Judy's daughter-in-law, married to their older son, Rich)

Obituary

Charles O. Swingle
A memorial service for Charles O. Swingle will be at 1:30 p.m. Monday, May 9, 2005 at Talent Methodist Church, First and Wagner Street, Talent. William and Mary Ellen Hare will officiate assisted by Rev. William Saladin.

Mr. Swingle, 95, of Fern Valley (East of Phoenix, OR), died Wednesday (May 4, 2005) in Medford.

He was born on June 1, 1909 in Dudleyville, AZ, to Charles A and Grace J. Swingle. In 1924 he moved with his family to Fern Valley. He was a 1929 graduate of Phoenix High School. On June 1, 1938 in Fern Valley he married Alice Hensler who survives.

He and his brother Ralph owned and operated a farm specializing in pears and cattle.

Mr. Swingle was a member of the IOOF, he was on the SOS Board of Directors from 1954 to 1974 and he was on the Fern Valley School Board in the late 1940's.

He enjoyed rock hounding, lapidary and traveling.

In addition to his wife of nearly 68 years, Alice, survivors include two sons, Charles R. and Fred A.; and four grandchildren. He was preceded in death by a sister, Eleanor McPherson, and two brothers, Ralph and Cecil Swingle.

Memorial contributions may be made to a charity of your choice.

Arrangements: Conger Morris Funeral Home, Medford.

From the Medford Mail Tribune, May 6, 2005.

Silver Wedding

This was taken at Pat and Mary Doyle's house in Medford on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of Charles and Alice.

This old world would be a nicer place to live...

This old world would be a nicer place to live if there were a lot more gentle people like Charles. All of us who love The Lord will enjoy his company in Heaven. Charles was a good friend. Sincerely, Elmer and Ruby Smith

Memorial Service

There will be a memorial service on Monday, May 9, at the Talent Methodist Church, 1st St. & Wagner, Talent, at 1:30pm.

Charles died this morning

Sometime before Alice woke up Charles died in his sleep.

The memorial service will be on Monday, May 9, at the Talent Methodist Church, where Charles and Alice attended before his health kept them from going out.

Details to follow.

Bright eyed

Charles has recovered from another spell of unresponsiveness. It's a struggle to say anything, but once in a while he'll say something very clearly. I gave him a polished stone from the Jordan River, and though he didn't have the strength to hold it, when I put it to the side he said, "Put it where I can reach it."

Rich Swingle