I am the daughter of Rev. Napoleon Curvey from Augusta, Texas and Wilma Branch Curvey from Pattison, Texas. I was born in Houston, Texas. We later moved to Augusta so that my father could pastor Brewington Baptist Church in Augusta. I now live in Palesatine,Texas. I love genealogy and I am apart of the Post Oak Cemetery Association. My father and Ms Willie Roach compiled the first cemetery book for the cemetery, my cousin Tenoria Neely Woods and I did an update some years later--I have been hooked ever since.

Dear Ancestor
Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone,
The name and date are chiseled out,
on polished marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care,
It is not too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist.
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you, in and flesh blood and bone,
Our blood contracts and beats
a pulse entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor,
the place you filled one hundred years ago,
Spreads out among the ones you left,
who would have loved you so.
I wonder...if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew,
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.

Author Unknown

I am the daughter of Rev. Napoleon Curvey from Augusta, Texas and Wilma Branch Curvey from Pattison, Texas. I was born in Houston, Texas. We later moved to Augusta so that my father could pastor Brewington Baptist Church in Augusta. I now live in Palesatine,Texas. I love genealogy and I am apart of the Post Oak Cemetery Association. My father and Ms Willie Roach compiled the first cemetery book for the cemetery, my cousin Tenoria Neely Woods and I did an update some years later--I have been hooked ever since.

Dear Ancestor
Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone,
The name and date are chiseled out,
on polished marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care,
It is not too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist.
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you, in and flesh blood and bone,
Our blood contracts and beats
a pulse entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor,
the place you filled one hundred years ago,
Spreads out among the ones you left,
who would have loved you so.
I wonder...if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew,
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.

Author Unknown