In 2016, seven Dayton cousins met on Long Island, New York, for the purpose of learning more about our Dayton ancestors and to explore the localities where they once lived. We were fortunate to link up with a distant cousin, Dai Dayton (blue shirt to my right), who is a local resident in the Hamptons, and a local environmental protectionist and “horsewoman.” She has a stable at her home with two or three horses (who love carrots). She warmly greeted us at her home with refreshments, and then acted as navigator, and local Dayton historian on our first day on Long Island. One of the highlights was a visit to the Long Island Collection which is housed in the East Hampton Library. The collection has many Dayton artifacts. We spent several hours rummaging through them. A catalog of these artifacts can be found online at http://easthamptonlibrary.org/long-island-history/digital-long-island/ Foremost among them is the original copy of the will of Ralph Dayton. Ralph was the first Dayton in America. He came in 1639. In the photo above, I am holding that orignal will which was probated in 1658, the same year that he died. See the actual will below.
Steve’s book, Our Long Island Ancestors, The First Six Generations of Daytons in Amercia, 1639-1807 can be purchased at Amazon.com. It contains a transcripton of this will, as well as several other original documents of importance to our Dayton family.
Last week’s quiz: Do you all know who your great-grampa Dayton is/was?
Ralph Dayton1 was the first Dayton to set foot on American soil (in 1639…he emigrated from Ashford, Kent County, England). His descendants down to Wilber Dayton Sr. were: Samuel Dayton2, Abraham Dayton3, Henry Dayton4, David Dayton, Sr.5, David Dayton, Jr.6, Henry Dayton7, Charles Dayton8, Wilber Dayton, Sr.9 . How far down the line are you from Wilber, Sr.? Congratulations if you know! Otherwise, I’d be honored to help you learn! After all, it’s not every day that someone can trace their roots to the New Haven colony in 1639. (it would probably make a good middle school or high school history project).
When I lived in the Corinth parsonage, my parents were often away on church business at the time I should arrive home from the little K-1st brick school house on Main St. I was no older than seven, probably six. It was standard procedure on such days for me to go straight after school to the nearby Ralph home (my father’s sister-in-law) to be babysat, and I was always told so in the morning before school. One day I wasn’t told, or I forgot. I went straight home to River Street after school, but home was empty. No one was there. I sat down on those concrete steps by the side door facing Grandpa’s garden and tried to figure out my future. I had no doubt — the Rapture had come and I’d been left behind.