George D. Faulkes was born in Burr Oak, Michigan, February 4, 18[5]5, and passed from this life December 24, 1931. His father while serving in the Civil war, contracted an illness which lasted for a number of years. This made it necessary for him, at the age of 14 to make his own way in the world, and from that time he took a man’s place, working on a farm in the summer and in the lumber camps of northern Michigan in the winter. In his early twenties he moved to Grinnell, Iowa, where he had charge of a grain and fuel business. At this place he was married to Tempa Stallings. About four years later, after the birth of a son, the family moved to Frontier county, Nebraska, where they lived in a sod house and fought through those early pioneering days on the western prairies.

After a few years he entered the grain business at Farnam, Nebraska and in 1900 together with his son engaged in the hardware and various other lines of endeavor, and they have worked together most of the time since. He went to Los Angeles in 1919 and this has been his continuous home since that time. He and Mrs. Faulkes celebrated their Golden Wedding Anniversary last March.

He was a hard worker with a sincere trust and faith in his Creator; a doer in every sense of the word, and one who would not recognize defeat, his undaunted courage and perseverance being an inspiration to those about him. The night before he passed on he said to one of the neighbors, "Frank, I am going to win," and no doubt he has.

Left to mourn his loss is his faithful wife, his son, Marion and his wife, Ethel; and his granddaughter, Hazel; his sister, Mrs. Rhoda Bayley, of Grinnell, Iowa, and many other relatives and friends throughout the country.

Each day he sat on his porch, and watched
The world as it moved at his feet,
He saw what no other man could see.
As he smiled from his shady porch seat.

He loved the laughter of his neighborhood folks,
And he cried aloud in his glee
At the children who gathered around on his steps,
And climbed way up on his knee.

He sat for hours to dream of the past,
And then to some neighborly ear,
Would tell of the time when he, as a lad,
Set forth on his own without fear.

And thus when they called him to happier days,
He went with a song in his heart.
For though he left those to grieve oĠer his chair,
In spirit, he shall never part.
Dot Maurice

The Farnam Echo 51(18):1 Wednesday, January 6, 1932