Patj's Thoughts, Stories & Genealogy

Happy Birthday # 94 Dorothy O Cary

2012-01-22T14:50:00.005-07:00

January 29 will be my mom’s 94th birthday. She was born in 1918 in Ottumwa, Wapello County, Iowa to Ralph O Cary and Hazel Windle. I am about the only living person that remembers her as a young woman. I am sure she has cousins alive that remember her, but I don’t know them at all. And I have cousins alive that remember her, but I don’t know where they are. Only one is older than I am, and I am not sure he is still alive. The point is that the people that can remember her at all are very limited. This is the lesson and the joy of genealogy, keeping someone’s memory alive. It is only when we are forgotten that we are gone.

My mom had me when she was seventeen years old, so I remember her when she was very young. I saw her struggle in an unhappy marriage to my dad. I saw her struggle to support me and my brother when we were alone. I saw her struggle to find a job and get us settled into an apartment we would call home for a couple of years. I didn’t ever sense that she had any help from anyone, maybe she did, unknown to me, but I don’t think so. She handled all of these things before she was thirty years old.

The picture is of her in December 1950 when she married my stepfather, Laurel L Evelyn. Now, I look at that picture and I see how young she was, and she had already lived a hard life. Her marriage to Laurel was a godsend and she could relax at last because he loved her and he loved me and David as well, so finally she had a nice life. Not perfect, of course, but so much better.

She died March 14, 2003 at age eighty-five. She lived a full and good life and lived it to the fullest up until her death. She was the most optimistic person I have ever known, always calm in the face of challenges. Her faith in God was unfailing, I wish I had her strong faith.

What I miss most is that I can never go home now. Wherever my mom lived was home to me. She created that feeling in all kinds of places. Places that ranged from little house trailers, to basement apartments, to big 3 bedroom houses. I don’t think she was aware of it, it just happened due to her presence.

Can you tell? I miss her very much. But I am so grateful that I had her for sixty seven years. I will never quit loving her. Happy Birthday Mom, I love you. Patty

How Soon We Forget -- Work That Is

2012-01-21T11:36:00.005-07:00

The other day I was thinking about my pre retirement days otherwise known as working days. I still don't know why that should pop into my head after almost 15 years, but who can figure out the human brain? 15 years ago in August I retired from Hewlett Packard. I had the best job in the world and it took me many years to find it, but it fit me and my personality like a glove. I loved it. I was a Dimensional Metrologist in the Gage and Metrology Lab. What is it? It is the science of precision measurement. Hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, millionths, ten millionths and one hundred millionths of an inch. These were everyday terms to me then. Even as a child I needed things to be "square and parallel" and didn't even know those words existed. That is why I knew I had found my perfect job when I went to work in the Gage and Metrology Lab.

We were a group of mechanical people in an electronic company and we stuck together. Some of our favorite customers were other mechanical people like tool and die makers, machinists, and sheet metal operators. Yes, even the electrical engineers needed us, because even though their expertise was electrical, they still needed to physically measure things. It was a great job and I loved it. It was a never ending variety of gages and measuring devices. As new projects began, new measuring devices were required and we were always learning something new.

The picture above is a collection of micrometers. Micrometers and calipers are the most basic of measuring devices, but so very necessary in a manufacturing environment. Some of my very favorites were thread gages. Threads are taken for granted, especially precision threads. Think about the threads that hold devices together in outer space, someone better be sure they are correct and meet the specifications. No one thinks about how we know if they are correct. It takes thread plugs, thread rings, thread wires, gage blocks and comparators to check threads. Each of those have a specification as well, and this is where the Metrology Lab enters the picture. For most of us threads aren't that critical but in some industries, threads are a life or death component.

I worked in what we called the "back room". It was my territory. Only people that are loners can stand to be in a 68 degree Fahrenheit room by themselves, but I liked it. 68 degrees F is the temperture that steel has to be, to be stable. Measuring in millionths of an inch requires as much stability as possible. Nothing created action more than to have the "back room" register 69 degrees F. Of course, I had a desk in the main room of the Lab and was out there whenever I wanted to be, but the "back room" was my favorite. Not even the boss came back there, it was a plum of a job.

Gosh,it's good to think about those things again. Retirement has brought me new activities and projects and that is good, but the working days need to be remembered as well. I consider myself lucky to have found the perfect job in my lifetime. I wish that for everyone.

Now life has led me to other interests and they are great, too. But I will never completely forget the best job in the world -- the best one for me anyway. Stay tuned, Patj

Winter 2012 Kentucky Ancestors --- John & Jane Craig

2012-01-13T21:25:00.005-07:00

I was so pleased to get the message from Don Rightmyer, editor of Kentucky Ancestors, that my story about John CRAIG and Jane BROWN would be the lead story in the Winter 2012 Edition of the magazine. Yesterday I received my complimentary copies of the magazine and it looks very nice. The children on the cover are not Craig children, but aren't they beautiful? They are Flora and Ora Austin Rodgers. The date and place is unknown but they are in the limelight for awhile on the magazine cover.

The story is of my ancestors, John CRAIG and his wife Jane BROWN. I found enough information during my trip to Kentucky in August to write the story. It was important to me since my maiden name is CRAIG. The second reason it was important was that when I began genealogy in 1990, all I knew of my CRAIGs was my grandfather, Claude Leolis CRAIG. Now I know back as far as the American Revolution. John CRAIG served three years in the Virginia Continental Line. He grew to adulthood in Bedford County, Virginia. By 1794 he and Jane were in Madison County, Kentucky with the first four of their children.

Next, John CRAIG is on the tax list for Wayne County,Kentucky in 1804. This is where he and Jane lived until his death in 1830. Jane eventually moved to Clinton County, Kentucky where she lived until about 1844.

What a tough generation the "Revolutionaries" were. They faced war, Indians, violence, disease, accidents and all of the other hazards of frontier life. Tough just doesn't seem to say it properly. Am I proud of my fourth great grandparents? Maybe just a little bit. You can see why genealogy is so addictive, learning what kind of people our ancestors were. The good, the bad, the strong and not so strong, whatever they are, they are ours.

Here is wishing you the good luck I have had in finding ancestors. Keep searching and learning. Until later, Patj

Flexibility-My New Name For The Speaking Game

2012-01-11T05:44:00.005-07:00

January 10, 2012. The day I was scheduled to speak at the Cheyenne Genealogical and Historical Society. This time of year is always a gamble for such things, but today couldn't have been more perfect weatherwise. A leisurely drive to Cheyenne, a few hours to do a bit of research in the wonderful genealogy department, friendly library staff and volunteers to chat with, who could ask for more?

My usual habit is to find the room for the meeting and make sure I am going to the right room. I was puzzled when I didn't see the genealogy meeting on the list of events for the Sunflower Room, but figured it just hadn't been updated yet. I went on to the genealogy department to try to find the things on my "shopping list". This library is one of the best for genealogy.

In a short while I overheard a conversation that caught my attention. "We don't have a meeting room for tonight." Needless to say, I wanted to hear more abut this situation, since I was the speaker for tonight. I finally interrupted the ladies and told them we wouldn't need to worry about a projector, etc, as I always bring my entire inventory of equipment, whether it is needed or not. I have learned that often times something is missing like an extension cord -- and of course, I have it at home, so in the interest of lessening stress (one of my new goals) I just bring everything I have. So this solved the equipment problem.

We looked around the genealogy room and found one wall that was enough blank space for me to aim the projector and yet be seen by folks. Three heads are better than one and soon we convinced ourselves that we could do the meeting in the genealogy room. So we got busy rearranging the furniture, tables and chairs, etc, etc.

I asked how many may be coming, and the ladies said usually about 25 people. It would be cozy, but we managed to squeeze about 30 chairs in a long section and felt everyone would have a good view of the wall. I went out to my truck and got my equipment and I set it up to make sure it was going to work okay with the set up we planned. It worked beautifully. Now we just had to wait until the attendees arrived for the "true test".

I went back to my research and the other ladies went back to what they were doing. I did find one important piece of evidence that I was looking for, so I was a happy camper, momentarily.

Finally, the members of the Society began arriving and they all seemed okay with the necessary arrangements. They have their business meeting first and that went just fine. Then about 7 pm the public started arriving and the room became a scene of a lot of activity. We had to start finding more chairs, and then more chairs, and then more chairs. Our original 30 was not going to handle the crowd at all. Needless to say everyone was getting very well acquainted with their neighbors as we squeezed folks closer and closer together. I know from the number of handouts that there were at least 50 people there, and that is a lot of people to squeeze into a very small space.

I hadn't felt a microphone would be necessary with a small compact group of 30, but now we were so spread out all over the genealogy room it was not going to work without a microphone. Having a sore throat to begin with, I just couldn't yell loud enough. One lady in attendance had an advantage over all of the rest of the folks. She was hearing impaired and could read lips, so who would you say was handicapped in that scene? She was so nice and had her canine companion with her and the dog laid down next to her and took a nap as we humans scrambled. Finally, one of the ladies called her husband and asked him to bring the microphone from home and soon we were back in business and continued with the rest of the program.

Everything went smooth as silk for the rest of the evening. Good responses and good questions, and a very enjoyable meeting. I feel folks may have gotten some good ideas and new tools to help in their genealogical quest. One gentleman told me that his goal is to learn at least one new thing a day, and tonight he learned five new things, so he is ahead of the gsme.

Oh yes, the name of the program is "Not Your Grandmother's Genealogy". And also I made it home before midnight when the next big storm is expected to hit. I felt kind of like Cinderella, I had to be back at the castle by midnight. I sure didn't want to be turned into a snowy pumpkin!

Moral of the story? Be flexible, be innovative, keep the stress down, have a fun time in spite of challenges that may come up. All good goals for life as well as speaking at meetings. Patj

A Day With Heroes - Past and Present

2012-01-03T05:52:00.002-07:00

On Monday, January 2, 2012 I was honored to
be invited to speak at the Fort Collins Civil War Roundtable meeting. I have been attending the meetings since last summer and have learned so much about this war. This group is like gathering the best CivilWar scholars in one place. These folks know this war inside out.

My presentation was not solely about the Civil War. I would never have the nerve to stand in front of this group of people and profess to know anything about the Civil War that they didn't already know about. My presentation is a Power Point program entitled, "America's Last Soldiers and Their Wars". I offered to do it and they accepted my offer.

Since the group always meets on the 1st Monday of each month, except in the summer, it fell on the day after New Years. I figured there wouldn't be many attend, because for many the holidays continue well into the next week. But, I was pleased and surprised when we had to find more chairs as people started arriving. Of course, the beautiful Colorado day was a big help as well. It was absolutely gorgeous outside.

I like it when the group interacts with the program and we had a great time interacting. These are folks that aren't the least bit bashful about asking questions, and hard ones at that. They are also very outspoken about their views. The majority are men and most are veterans. I knew in advance that this would be a fun day.

It turned out to be a nice afternoon with several telling of their memories and knowledge to the group. I enjoyed the whole affair. My equipment behaved as it should, which is always a big relief. The crowd was friendly. The interaction was great.

I sort of surprised them when I got to what they thought was the end, and then told of the ladies that served in each war, and the MIA/POWs. It wasn't really anything they didn't already know but I feel it was presented in a pleasant and organized manner. It was a break from the more serious subjects we will see in the coming year. These folks are here to share some pretty detailed information about the Civil War

It was a good day for me. Even though I am battling the "cold of the century" I managed to pull together enough to do the program and without a hint of the misery I have been in for the past few days. I guess it is true that the mind is stronger than matter.

So with this story, I am off and running toward a great 2012. I know it, and stay tuned. Patj

Ending 2011 On A Genealogical Note

2011-12-16T09:13:00.007-07:00

Of course, those that know me, know that I can't go until January 1, 2012 to write in my blog. This story will not be included in this year's book, but I will catch it next year -- if I remember to backdate that book. I can't think of a better way to end the year but by discovering a new thing about my genealogy. The couple you see are Samual Matlack and his wife Mildred Ann Gregory. Neither one are my ancestors but I was, none the less, happy to meet them face to face. Mildred Ann Gregory is the half sister of my ancestress, Eliza Arterburn. They are both daughters of Jane Poulter each by a different husband. Eliza is from James H Arterburn and Mildred Ann is from Harvey Gregory..

The story is of how I found these pictures. As I was finishing my latest Kentucky story about the Arterburns I decided to search a bit further for Eliza's half sister and I used my new hero "GOOGLE" to do that. This led me to Nathaniel L Taylor who is descended from Mildred Gregory. He has posted wonderful information about this family at http://www.nltaylor.net/pdfs/Matlack.pdf. He has a great deal of information about Mildred and her family.

Next, Nat found a message about another Gregory daughter, Mary Jane. Mary Jane would be the youngest child of Jane Poulter and before now was unknown to me. Mary Jane married quite young to Hiram Josleyn and her guardian and brother-in-law, Samuel Matlack gave consent for her to marry in 1848. Mary Jane died, leaving two young daughters, and Hiram remarried in Spencer County, Indiana. Spencer County, Indiana is where we have heard Harvey Gregory left property to Mildred and Samuel Matlack. This is something yet to be found, but it seems to make sense, so further investigation is in order here. You know how a genealogist just needs a little clue to go forward.

This new information meant I had to review some earlier assumptions and this led to having to rewrite some of my Kentucky story. But it is not hard to do and I am glad to have fine tuned this family history a bit and made it more accurate. I feel it is another example of the force that leads us in genealogy, to stumble onto the best and newest information possible.

So, I will probably really sign off for 2011 this time. But who knows -- there are still two weeks to go, and you know how much can happen in two weeks. So maybe I had better just say, stay tuned. Patj

2003-2011 The Iraq War -- It's Over

2011-12-16T08:43:00.002-07:00

On March 20, 2003 my entire family was gathered at Gering, Nebraska. We sat in my mom's livingroom as we watched the start of the Iraq War on TV. We all felt this was the thing to do, as we had been led to believe that Saddam Hussein was an integral part of the dastardly attack in New York City on 9 September 2001.

Almost nine years later, I don't believe we were told the truth and I don't believe it was the right thing to do. The score card is rather lopsided. Osama Bin Laden spent approximately 1 MILLION dollars for the attack on New York City. America has spent approximately 3 TRILLION dollars to rid the world of him. Hmmm, let's see, a TRILLION is a MILLION MILLION. I don't do math well enough to fathom how much that is!

The money is the least of the cost though, as so many young Americans and other young people lost their lives in this war. So now that I have spouted off my belief, I will get to the real subject of this post.

The reason we were all together on March 20, 2003 was because we were stranded by the biggest blizzard this part of the country has seen since the notorious 1949 Blizzard. All roads into and out of Western Nebraska were closed. There was no way to go anywhere. My mother's memorial service was on March 18 and we were all there to pay tribute to her,and we couldn't leave.

Today, as I was reading the piece in the paper about the war being officially over, I thought back to what has happened to all of us in those nearly nine years. All of the family members there, of my Mom's generation, have now passed away. Some of the young folks that were there that day have gotten married and had several babies. My husband has passed away and I have moved to a new place to live.

Thank goodness, we can't foresee the future. If we could, we would go mad knowing what challenges lie ahead. Maybe the greatest gift our creator gave us was to NOT be able to see into the future. He/She replaced it with the wonderful gift of memory though. We can even choose which memories to remember best. We can pick the good ones or we can pick the unpleasant ones.

Isn't it great to be a human being? I choose to remember the good events. Maybe, I am like the camel that sticks their head in the sand, but it's nicer this way. I think my mom would approve. Tell your mom you love her if you still have the chance. Maybe that was the real reason for this post -- to be able to tell my mom I love her. Patj

2011--The Year Of Awards & Surprises

2011-12-07T05:05:00.023-07:00

This will likely be my last blog post for the year 2011.I print a book at the end of each year of my blog, so to get that done in time for December 31 I need to stop now. I will just end the year with a recap of what has happened that I think is significant. Last night was a nice finale to the year for me as I was awarded the 2011 Volunteer of the Year at the Larimer County Genealogical Society Christmas Dinner. It is worth so much to have the people that know you best to say you are outstanding. Especially, if those folks are genealogists. They are certainly not easy to fool by any means. Not that they are a tough crowd of people, they are simply very good analyzers. I felt honored by the award --- for sure.

It seems 2011 is my year for awards. At the Colorado Society Daughters of the American Revolution State conference in April I was awarded the VIS Voulnteer of the year. VIS in DAR terminology means Volunteer Information Service (Websites). There are forty DAR chapters in Colorado and almost 100% of them have websites, so to be awarded this out of all of them is quite an honor. Especially since my website skills are self taught and not very fancy. You can see it here http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~cofctdar/index.html

The surprises were topped off by my trip to Kentucky in August. I was surprised that I could financially manage it and even come in under budget. If only our government could do the same, right? But, as great as it was, I find now that I really need to go back and do more poking around in Kentucky. I wonder if I can pull it off again. Of course, if a person wants to do something enough they will find a way, so we will see what happens in 2012.

Another big surprise came in the last week in July. Don Rightmyer, editor of the magazine "Kentucky Ancestors" informed me that my article on my Simon Pryor and Susanna Morgan would be the lead article in the Summer issue. He sent me complimentary copies but of course they didn't arrive until after I had left for Kentucky. I was thrilled and surprised to see "my" magazine on the rack at the Kentucky Historical Society when I visited there. I have sent him four stories to date and "John Craig of Otter Creek" will be the lead story in the January issue. He has "Three Kentucky Generations of the Closs Thompson Family" and "John Storms and Hannah Collard, My Mystery Ancestors". Whether he ever publishes them I don't know, but he has them. Since I have learned to write using Chicago Style of Manual, 16th edition, the stories are coming fast and fiurious. They will eventually be in my own book at some point in the future.

How could I forget to mention the TV Series Larimer County Genealogical Society is producing? I reluctantly agreed to do one program on the subject "Family History Centers and the Family History Library". What a nervous sort of fun that was. Not being at all photographic I wondered why I would let the whole world know that. But at my age I don't have much to lose, so I figured, "Why not? it will be a new experience." Not quite like "Who Do You Think You Are" the stars have to write their own script. It is a big job and adds to the anxiety of the situation by trying to have to make sense to the audience in the time allowed. Actually it was fun. Then I was asked to do another TV program on "Wills and Probate Records". That turned into a great research project as I researched the subject. I ended up with a nice Power Point called "The End of the Story". So it was a good thing. In January I will do another program on the subject, "Directories". Who would have guessed, that there are many new things and unimagined experiences to enjoy throughout our lives. It was fun, and it doesn't hurt to be a bit nervous once in awhile.

Not a surprise and not really an award -- Thanksgiving with my three great grandsons and their parents (my grandsons) and their grandparents (my daughter and son in law). There are two little boys sitting down in front and they are ages 2 and 5, and one little boy in his mom's arms and he is 1. They are what life is all about, our descendants. Why else do genealogy? And my daughter MUST have been standing on a hill in the grass because I am sure I am taller than she is!!

And the nicest thing was when my youngest daughter visited from Maui in September and we all three got together for lunch in Longmont. It was a fun afternoon. Unfortunately, I had a surprise yet to come that day as my truck died on me on the way home and it was 9pm before I got home. But all things got fixed and it is ALMOST forgotten. Anyone know of a good, single, senior citizen that is a car mechanic?

Yes, 2011 was a very good year for me. I learned so many new things, accomplished things I didn't think I could do, met so many nice people, enjoyed my safe and cozy home, and most of all had good health. Good health is the biggest blessing I can think of. I can hardly wait to see what good things 2012 holds for me, and for you as well. Happy New year to all. Patj

From The Olden Days Of Communications -Telegrams

2011-11-27T21:26:00.006-07:00

Have you have ever seen a telegram? You know, from the old days of the 1960's? Yes, we had telephones then, but for a faster written message there was nothing like a telegram. This one was the way I learned that my grandfather, Claude Craig, died in Pittsburg, Kansas on 30 June 1961. I remember getting the telephone call from the telegraph office and then they sent the telegram by mail so I had the paper copy.

How different from today when we have constant contact with people. We can talk to folks even as we drive down the highway and when we are shopping in the grocery store. Folks seem to have so much vital news to share with other people that it can't wait until they get home. And imagine, we didn't even have voice mail to leave a message if no one answered the telephone. If someone called while we were out we had no caller ID to tell us who called. They just had to call back and hopefully we would be there to answer. How did we ever manage? The funny thing is, we did manage and we survived just fine.

We didn't have auto accidents because we were talking on the cell phone, sometimes actually killing other people and sometimes killing innocent children. But, after all, we are safer now because we wear seat belts and have air bags(g).

When we were driving in the car and we saw the person in the next car talking to themselves we wondered how long they had been out on the streets from the nearest mental institution. Let alone seeing two people sitting next to each other and not talking but texting to each other, or someone else, while enjoying each other's company. It seems there is something wrong with that picture, but maybe I am just stuck in the past.

Your question may be, "How could you have lived in such a backward time as the 1960's?" My answer is, "I am so glad I did and I wouldn't trade the memory of it for all the electronic gadgets we have now, no way."

Yes, finding this old telegram brought back memories of a simpler and more real time. Definitely not an easier time, but a time you could not understand if you didn't live there. I count myself lucky in the memory department. Just as you will 50 years from now thinking back to today. Isn't it great to be a human being? Patj

A Magic Copper Pot & A Head of Cabbage

2011-11-21T04:59:00.003-07:00

I know, a copper pot and a head of cabbage is not very exciting, but it was a nice thing yesterday. I seem to get the urge to cook on Sundays. I think it is because my mom always cooked on Sundays. When my dad left, my mom had to work to support me and David and Sunday was usually the day she had the chance to clean house, do laundry, and cook and make the house smell good. At least that is what I attribute my Sunday cooking to. The rest of the week we ate quick and easy things as she didn't have time or energy to fix big meals every day. Actually, that was a good thing as folks weren't so overweight in those days because they didn't feast seven days a week. Anyway, cooking on Sunday seems to be a form of comfort for me.

Yesterday, I decided to make cabbage soup. I had the ingredients, cabbage, onions, tomatoes, vegetables broth and other veggies. Oh yes, and the main ingredient, my magic copper pot. The picture looks a great deal like it, except mine isn't so shiny. I gave up on trying to keep my magic copper pot clean on the outside, it is copper after all. So it looks like a very well used copper pot. The story of the magic pot isn't very exciting either, but I am going to tell you about it anyway.

In this day when some people spend over $100 for a cooking pot, the idea that you can buy a magic one for $1 is unbelieveable. It was a beautiful fall day about 20 years ago when John and I went to the outdoor flea market in Loveland, Colorado. It is no longer in existence, having given way to more lucrative businesses in that location. It was at the south end of Loveland next to the Big Thompson River. It was a very interesting place to visit as you might meet all sorts of people and once we even met a very smart parakeet that was a pet of one of the regular sellers. He thought he was a human and walked around and talked to eveyone as if he owned the place. Once he wasn't there and when I asked about him the owner said, "He told me that he didn't want to come today, so I left him home."

But to get on with my magic pot story, I spotted the bright shiny copper pot as we walked around the booths. It looked brand new and was so pretty sitting in the bright sunshine. I love copper, so it caught my attention. A young Mexican woman was selling stuff there and the copper pot was among them. I stopped to talk to her as best I could. With the language difference it was mostly sign language. I finally walked on but the copper pot was still in the back of my mind. Before we left, I told John that I wanted to go back and see how much it was. When I asked her she said, "One." and held up one finger to emphasize the price. I couldn't believe my ears, $1 for a beautiful copper cooking pot that looked brand new? Needless to say, I bought it.

What I didn't know that day was that I was buying a magic pot! If I had to get down to one cooking pot it would be this one. I can't even estimate the number of things I have cooked in it in twenty years. The thing is that whether it was meat, potatoes, vegetables, soups or many other things,they always turn out perfect and delicious. It took me several years to realize this. It just gradually came to me that when I put the magic pot on the stove the dish would be done to perfection. When I cooked meat (which I don't do anymore) it always was delicious and I could really count on that.

So today, as I started my cabbage soup, the first ingredient was my magic cooking pot. It isn't bright and shiny anymore, but like an old friend, it is reliable and when I pull it out of the cupboard I have no doubt the dish will be delicious. That is a good feeling in a world of uncertainty. It is a very special thing, my magical cooking pot. Magic can be found in the most unusual places, can't it? So keep your eyes open, and you may find it just around the corner. Oh yes, the soup was one of my best yet and it was delicious and perfect, but no surprise there, I knew it would, magically, be perfect.
patj

The Motley Crew of DMA Plaza

2011-11-09T21:51:00.009-07:00

Tonight was a really fun night at my home --- DMA Plaza in Fort Collins, Colorado.

For those that don't know, it is a senior housing apartment building that is eleven stories tall and dates from the early 1970's. Some folks say, "I just couldn't live in a place like that." But I am here to tell you it is a one of a kind experience to live here. We are a vast collection of different personalities, colors, and appearances. There are 126 apartments in this building and most have one resident but several have couples as well. These folks are not of the affluent group as far as money is concerned. They aren't even all of the kind and gentle senior citizen model (if there really is such a group). We get acquainted slightly as we pass in the halls, entrances, or the social center, known as the laundry room.

I have lived here for two years and I can't think of living anywhere else. I am perfectly happy here. No leaves to rake, no snow to shovel, no grass to mow -- its really nice -- unless you like to do those things. I usually come and go, doing my own things with just a friendly hello to those I meet as I pass.

However, a new couple moved in here a few months ago and they decided to try something new. A DMA Karaoke Night. Slowly the group started filtering in the Community Room. It started at 6pm but it was about 7pm before the curious started coming in. The loud music was hard to ignore and I am sure it resonated for quite a few floors up through the building. Soon the room was full of all sorts of people. It was a fun night as we all listened to songs from better days and each had our own memories of that music. There were a few brave ones that got up and sang with the music and the magic microphones that make people sound like better singers than they really are. There were a lot of old fashioned love songs, country western, classic, and rock and roll songs. There wasn't a still foot in the whole room as you couldn't help tapping along to the music.

The crowd was an interesting mix of folks that are in various health states, mental states, inhouse romances, and even a sort of sad love triangle. People that have lived a rough life, suffered tragedies, health problems and as always, money problems. No one here is rich -- at least as far as money is concerned. Life here is a struggle for many reasons for many people. As I looked around the room I saw that for these few hours we were all young again and laughing again and happy again.

Yes, your humble correspondent even braved it to go up and sing -- but only in a group of more than one. We all laughed at each other and ourselves. It was fun.

As we finally had to call it a night and go back to our apartments there was not a grumpy face in the whole lot. It just goes to prove that you don't need a fancy environment to have a good time and feel good about your neighbors. Tomorrow we may all go back to our "normal" world, but for tonight we were transformed somewhere else. Where in the world can a person walk a few feet, enjoy a fun night, and not have to go out in the cold or drive anywhere? I wouldn't trade it for anything and I am grateful to live here.

My Old Friend, Illusions, by Richard Bach

2011-11-02T15:44:00.003-06:00

Yes, this is my copy of the book, Illusions by Richard Bach. It is well worn, dog eared, bent and almost crumbling with some of the pages loose from the binding. I usually write the date inside the front cover when I buy a special book and this one is dated "June 26, 1979". I look at that date and can remember well the day I bought it. I was unemployed, but had a part time job at the gift shop in the Harvest Hilton House Hotel in Boulder, Colorado. The job was not a fast, high pressure job. The customers were mostly guests in the hotel that were looking for souveniers. It was a fun job and I definitely needed the money at that time. I was a single mom, with a daughter about to enter her last year in High School.

Obviously, everything worked out for me, but that day I wasn't so sure --- until I started reading Illusions. I sat at the counter and looked over the revolving book rack. I needed something to fill the time and it was almost time to close and go outside to Anthony's Gardens and eat my lunch. After reading the introduction, the book was one I didn't want to put down. So I bought it --- and I read it, and I have re-read it a couple of times a year. Matter of fact I just finished it, again.

I currently have a long list of things to get done, but this book has a very strong way of saying "Read me". And I always answer that call. Why? Because, for me, it is a magical book. Each time I have read it I find a comment or a sentence I hadn't noticed before. It has never failed to inspire me in a different way and in a way I need to be inspired. Just as Richard Bach explains in the introduction when he says it was a book that virtually grabbed him by the throat and demanded, "Write me", it does the same thing to me by saying, "Read me".

Today it shouted, "Write about me", and as usual I didn't argue, thus this little advertisement for Illusions by Richard Bach. Is it a book that everyone will love? I doubt it. But don't be surprised if you are one of the fortunate souls that will be doing what I did that June day, sitting in Anthony's Gardens. Looking up at the beautiful sky and trying to vaporize clouds. Did I succeed? Hmmmm, I'm not saying, but I'll bet you can guess the answer to that one. patj

Why I Love Madison County Kentucky

2011-11-02T00:50:00.005-06:00

In August 2011 I spent three days in Madison County Kentucky. I liked it there and I felt at home there. I knew about my Farris and Campbell families from there and that was my main reason for going there. I learned some new information about them, visited the courthouse, visited the libraries, studied the back roads on a map I found in the motel, and drove around where I thought I would be near where they lived in the 1780/1790s. All in all I had a fantastic adventure just doing my regular poking around. Hmmmm, "poking around", another term for genealogy. But now, as impossible as it sounds, I think I have to go back there.

Since I have been back home I have discovered new information about my Thompson and, my Craig families -- and guess where they were? Madison County, Kentucky! Because it will be quite awhile before I can return there to pour over the tax lists and land records and court order books, I have to be content to find what I can on microfilm. The first one I ordered was the Madison County tax lists, and today I went to the Family History Center to read it. I was motivated to read it today because a big winter storm was predicted for Colorado tomorrow and it is usually best not to drive unless absolutey necessary. Matter of fact as I write this story the storm has already arrived and it looks like it could be a challenge for those that have to get out early in the morning.

At any rate the film turned out to be well worth my time. It starts in 1787 and that is one year after Madison County was formed from Lincoln County. Lincoln County was one of only three counties in Kentucky in the beginning, but soon new counties began forming and now the State of Kentucky has 120 counties.

From this single microfilm:
1.I learned that Hugh Campbell and his brothers were in Madison County on the July 21, 1787 tax list at the beginning of the county, and probably before.
2. I learned that his son, Benjamin, first appeared on the 1789 tax list, which means he was born about 1768, 21 years before his first tax list.
3. Michael Pharis/Fariss first appeared there in 1789. His brother, Thomas Jr, and father, Thomas Sr, were there in 1787. I suspect the two Thomases sent word back to Pittsylvania County, Virginia to Michael about the abundance of land in Kentucky.
4. Closs Thompson was on the first tax list on July 7, 1787.
5. John Craig was first on a Madison County tax list on June 17, 1795. This agrees with the affidavit of Richard Wade that said he first met John Craig about 1794 in Madison County, Kentucky. John Craig was in Madison County until 1802 and I know he was in Wayne County, Kentucky by 1804. I am sure he never imagined he would have such a nosey and persistent descendant.
6. Feaby (Pheby) Fariss was on the 1800 tax list and had 72 acres of land. Her land was entered in the name of William Dryden. Her husband, Michael Fariss died in 1799 and all of his tax list entries showed no land. So did Pheby take the initiative to buy land after her husband died? Her son, Dudley Fariss, first appeared on the 1800 tax list as well, indicating he was now age 21.

I can't help wondering if these folks could have known each other. Of course, the Campbell and the Farris families did as evidenced by the marriage of Benjamin Campbell to Chloe Farris in 1791,in Madison County. The Craig and Campbells would become acquainted in two generations in Wayne and Clinton Counties when David Craig married Abigail Campbell. The Thompsons were in the same neighborhood as the Campbells as they both were in the newly formed Campbell County, Kentucky for a short while. The Campbells moved south to Cumberland County and the Thompsons went east to Bath County. Apparently none of their children managed to meet and marry ----- or I wouldn't be who I am.

Now you know why genealogy is so addictive. It is an ongoing jigsaw puzzle with real live puzzle pieces.

This microfilm was a genealogical treasure. Now I must decide what to order next from Madison County Kentucky. I have a feeling I am going to be researching there for the near future.

The images above are a map showing where Madison County is in the State of Kentucky and one of Silver Creek. Silver Creek is a 40 mile long creek that starts south of Berea, Madison County and terminates northwest of Richmond, Madison County where it empties into the Kentucky River. The Farris and Campbell families lived on Silver Creek.

Yes -- Margaret Storms IS the Daughter of John Storms

2011-10-24T20:31:00.015-06:00

It is amazing to me how much a little kernel of new information can make a genealogist's day!! That happened to me last Saturday. For years I have searched for proof that my ancestress, Margaret Storms, is the daughter of John Storms and Hannah Collard. I have to tell you that I have always known it in my heart, but that doesn't do much for documentation purposes.

To start at the beginning, the above Bible record is from Susannah Pryor's application to receive a widow's pension for her husband's American Revolutionary service. A widow had to prove that she was married to the veteran and often submitted pages from the family Bible to show proof of births, marriages, and deaths. I am sure Susannah was sad to have to tear pages out of the family Bible, but I am grateful that she did. Why? Because it was preserved. Otherwise it probably would have met the sad fate of so many other family Bibles and been lost or destroyed. It held the proof that my ancestor, Simon Pryor Jr. married Margaret Storms. There has been no other record of this found to date. It also gave the birth of their son, John Pryor and this proved that my John Pryor was their son. It was a great day when I found this information many years ago. The image you see is the short family record of Simon Pryor Jr. and his wife and children. It is extremely hard to read so I transcribed it for you.

Of course, an answer in genealogy is short lived, and soon I was wanting more information and more answers, like who were the parents of Margaret Storms? There seemed to be only one likely couple, John Storms and his second wife Hannah Collard. For one thing there weren't any other Storms in the area at the right time. For another thing, Margaret named her two oldest children Hannah and John. These names were not names that the Pryors used. So for many years I have had this question in the back of my mind.

During my recent trip to Kentucky, I gathered quite a bit of information about John Storms, but found nothing that mentioned a daughter named Margaret. He had signed the marriage bonds for several other daughters, but not for Margaret. Other researchers have copied the things I have posted on the Internet and entered Margaret as a daughter, but no real evidence to prove it, so it seemed I may never be able to really prove this father and daughter connection. Among the things I found in Kentucky were many tax lists in books and in genealogies that showed where John Storms was and where the Pryors were in various years. These are great, but there is nothing like actually looking at the tax lists themselves.

As I was reviewing these things I decided to order the Grayson County, Kentucky tax lists on microfilm from the Family History Library in Salt Lake City. I had to see if, in 1813, John Storms was in the vicinity of the Simon Pryor family. Were they neighbors or physically near each other when Simon Pryor Jr.and Margaret Storms were married. Finally, my microfilm arrived at the Fort Collins Family History Center and last Saturday I went to read it. I set about writing down all of the Grayson County people I was interested in. When I got home I entered all of my notes into an Excel spreadsheet. I learned a long time ago to write down everything in the record, especially the dates on Kentucky tax lists. Why the date? Because the tax clerk wrote down people as they came in. If two men came in to file on the same date and were from the same part of the county, and if you think there may be a connection between them they probably traveled to the courthouse together.

I looked at my spreadsheet for awhile before I realized --- Simon Pryor Jr. and John Storms came to the courthouse on the same day, 17 April 1813. One month later, 20 May 1813, Simon Pryor Jr. and Margaret Storms were married -- per his mother's written record. Now I feel as if I have seen a tiny glimpse of the life of these folks. Simon Jr. most likely worked for John Storms, and fell in love with his young seventeen year old daughter.

I am at last convinced that my original theory was correct. It isn't conventional evidence, but it is circumstantial evidence, it is very convincing, and it answers my question. Plus the only other Storms in Grayson County, Kentucky in 1813 is Peter Storms and he is John's son.

John Storms is last listed on the 1815 Grayson County tax list. This coincides with the death date of 1815/1816 that other researchers have stated. Simon Pryor Jr. is last listed on the 1816 Grayson County tax list. His mother says he died in April 1818 and I firmly believe that is true. A mother would never forget when her child died. Because he died in April 1818, it was before he traveled to the courthouse to file the 1817 tax. That is if it was like today, when we normally pay personal taxes a year behind.

Margaret Storms Pryor lost her father and her husband within a short time of each other. She was one month pregnant with Babey when Simon Pryor Jr. died. I can only imagine the sadness and uncertainty she felt at that time. But, she went on to marry Isaac Hart about 1820 and have four more sons and three more daughters. I have not found her death information. I don't know why Simon Jr. died so young. I'll keep looking.

Oh yes, as I already told you, every answer to a genealogist means another question or two. And then there is the fact that we can't know every aspect of a another person's life ---- or can we? However, It sure is fun trying. patj

Visiting Broomfield Colorado On October 20, 2011

2011-10-21T04:50:00.006-06:00

Today was an absolutely perfect Colorado fall day. I was scheduled to present the program at the Broomfield Genealogical Society this evening and left early to travel the 55 miles south. I drove south to Broomfield on Highway 287 and it was a beautiful drive. Of course, I-25 would have been faster, but I was in no hurry as I am always way too early anyway. I would much rather enjoy the scenery than get pushed down the Interstate by a horde of cars.

What a pleasant drive it was. I couldn't help but think back to when these towns were separated by empty areas. Not any more though, as things have been built in between reminding me of the Southern California area where one town subtley fades into the next town. I am not being critical at all, because things can't ever stay the same. Not in towns and not in lives, either. I try to stay flexible about change, because to get stuck in one way of thinking is not good mentally.

In September I spoke at the Laramie, Wyoming Genealogical Society and drove Highway 287 north. Today I drove the southern part of the same highway. I enjoyed both landscapes, different as they are.

The Broomfield Genealogical Society meets at the Mamie Doud Eisenhower Library in Community Park. Mamie was a Colorado native and was a good ambassador for the State.

The attendees were very nice and friendly and we had the best time talking about the DAR Genealogical Research System. It was not to be a DAR Membership Drive, but of course, that seemed to be the main interest and a great deal of the questions were about how to join DAR. I never tire of talking about DAR, or the American Revolution, so it was a very enjoyable evening for me.

I was pleased that several men were in attendance as well. One gentleman said he has actually used the GRS. It is a great genealogical tool, for sure.

As you already know, I am compulsively early for every speaking engagement and today was no exception. Fortunately I am usually speaking in a Library or close to one. Today, at the Mamie Doud Eisenhower Library I had time to look at a book about the Gettysburg Address. Having just finished reading "Killer Angels" about the Battle of Gettysburg it caught my attention. The Gettysburg Address is a favorite story of mine. I smile when I read of how Abraham Lincoln could say so much in 272 words. I try to follow that example and not use too many words to tell my message. No one can equal Abraham Lincoln, but it's a worthy goal to be like him.

I love the short note Edward Everett sent to the President the day after the dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery. "I should be glad if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the actual idea of the occassion in 2 hours as you did in 2 minutes."

I certainly did enjoy my visit to Broomfield. To see the progress that is happening is amazing, and of course, the beautiful scenery can't be beat. It was a treat to see Boulder Flatirons in the distance as the one picture shows us. The Mamie Doud Eisenhower Library is a beautiful facility and it was a pleasure to speak there. The people were extremely nice and the conversation was great.

Until next time, patj

Who Do I Think I Am?

2011-09-26T11:14:00.010-06:00

Recently, I started thining about how my identity is connected to external forces, things and people. I like to think I am a "stand alone" type of person, when in fact that is not true -- not for me and not for anyone else. Because my pickup had a temper tantrum last week, I was suddenly without it as it was repaired. I realized how much my feeling of well being is connected to an inanimate thing like a pickup. Or IS it inanimate? That is open for debate. To complicate things even more, I am a VW type of person, but I don't have one anymore. But, it is my Blog so I can show anything I want to, right?

I remembered when my computer had a nasty virus last winter, and when it was in the shop, I had the same empty feeling while it was gone. I was fortunate to have a back up in my netbook, so I was able to cope for a week without my PC. But it is hard to have an extra vehicle to lean on in tough times. My computer is much older than the one pictured, but again I can day dream when writing my Blog.

This whole thing got me to thinking of the past. I do that quite often because I am a genealogist, and we tend to travel in the "past lane". I remember a time when my identity was as someone's daughter, someone's wife, someone's mother, etc, etc, etc. And, of course, after beginning to work, I was linked to my job description.

Maybe the theme of this story is that we are never an island. We are always connected to other things and other people. I wouldn't have it any other way. There is a popular Genealogy TV Series called "Who Do You Think You Are?", but I prefer to say "Who Do I Think I Am?"

To Laramie via the Overland Stage Trail with Jack Slade and Mark Twain

2011-09-15T00:32:00.017-06:00

On September 13, 2011, I was invited to speak to the fine folks at the Laramie Wyoming Genealogical Society. I was to be there by 7pm. Naturally, being a compulsively early person, I started out at 3 in the afternoon. I have tried to change that part of me, but after all these years it just is not going to happen. My latest thoughts are “Why worry about it? Just live with it.”

It was a perfectly gorgeous Colorado September afternoon. The weather forecast included scattered showers, but all I saw were the beautiful clouds and deep blue sky. I decided to drive Highway 287 from Fort Collins to Laramie. For some unknown reason it is one of the most dangerous stretches of highway in the country. Highway crosses are apparent so often all the way to Laramie. But it is also one of the most awe inspiring stretches of highway. The beauty is breathtaking.

The far western, north/south street in Fort Collins is Overland Trail Road. This street actually follows this famous route that was one of the major ways to get from east to west in the 1850/1860’s. It drops down to where the stagecoaches crossed the Cache la Poudre River and climbs slightly up to enter the little town of La Porte. The street weaves along the lay of the land just as it did so long ago. I never drive it without imagining the stage coaches rocking side to side and the drivers cracking the whip, urging the horses to get going.

Can you tell it’s one of my favorite streets?

At La Porte I headed north on Highway 287 as it follows the Overland Stage Trail, but sometimes is not as true as Overland Trail Road. Still, it is easy to imagine the stagecoaches and horses and armed guards and weary passengers waiting for the next stage stop. These stage stops were built about ten miles apart. Just a blink of the eye as we drive at 65 miles per hour, but in the 1850/1860’s those ten miles must have felt like forever.

The scenery on this part of Highway 287 is hard to describe. It is so many things. It is wide, huge, clear, mountains in the distance, prairie, red soil, pine trees, rock formations and steep hills as I climbed from 5000 feet in Fort Collins to 7500 feet in Laramie.

But today, I couldn’t help dwelling on the scene as I imagine it appeared in the 1850/1860’s. Perhaps I just was in that kind of mood. I turned the radio on, but turned it off as it didn’t fit with the mental picture I had in my head. It was interrupting the scene.

Soon I was climbing the steep hill at Virginia Dale, Colorado. This is near the Wyoming border and is the location of one of the stage stops. Virginia was the wife of the notorious Jack Slade and Jack managed this stage stop for awhile. The fact that he named the stage stop in her honor tells me he had a very tiny soft spot in his heart --- although he could shoot a man for looking at him wrong, and never blink an eye. He would definitely be considered a dangerous socio path today. But there is something about Americans that like to revere the bad guys, that is if they never have to meet them face to face. Jack Slade was hired by Ben Holliday to tame the crime and attacks on the stage coaches, and he succeeded. The robbers and gunmen decided to move on to easier pickings and The Overland Stage Company had few cases of robberies and murders after Jack Slade finished his job. It obviously became too tame for Jack Slade and he moved on as well.

Finally I crossed the Colorado/Wyoming State Line and the vista changed to high and vast prairie with the Medicine Bow Mountains in the far distance. I came to Tie Siding, Wyoming which is the remnant of a town built just for the gathering of railroad ties to help move the Union Pacific Railroad westward. It is a gas station and café and antique store now.

Now I could see Laramie in the far distance and immediately went to the Church building where I was scheduled to speak. I went in and the office lady showed me where it would be, so I felt prepared for tonight. Hmmmm it was only 4:30. Sometimes this early stuff is for the birds! I decided to find the Laramie Public Library and spend some time there. Maybe they would have a city directory with my dad’s name in it. We lived in Laramie in 1944/1945. But alas, I guess they didn’t visit those folks that were just in town for a defense job and not like the “regular” folks. Besides, my dad would have just been a kid then so probably didn’t even look like a head of household.

But I DID find an interesting book about the Overland Stage Trail. It had many first person accounts of the days and happenings. I became really engrossed in the book as I had been thinking about the Overland Stage Trail all afternoon. And then Mark Twain entered the picture. I laughed to myself as I read of Mark Twain meeting Jack Slade. It can be found in “Roughin It” but I will give you the general idea. I am sure Mark Twain won’t mind me taking literary license here.

Mark Twain described the morning he was eating breakfast in a stage station with other stagecoach passengers and noticed a very well dressed and attractive man sitting at the head of the table. Mark Twain was impressed with the gentlemanly demeanor of the man. The group was busy eating and joking, which I am sure was easy to do with Mark Twain in the crowd. Then Mark Twain heard one of the other passengers refer to the gentleman as ”Slade”.

Mark Twain gulped as he swallowed his coffee and suddenly saw a different picture and acquired a different mental state, like sheer terror. Not wanting to tip his hand Mark Twain continued his conversation with Slade as normally as possible. Jack Slade seemed to take a liking to Mark Twain and when Mark emptied his coffee cup Jack Slade offered to give him what was in HIS cup. Mark Twain politely declined the offer. He was frantically wondering to himself if Jack may change his mood in the middle of pouring the coffee and decide to shoot instead. But Jack Slade insisted, so finally Mark accepted the favor, not wanting to ire the famous bad guy. Jack watched closely as Mark drank the hot coffee down in almost one gulp. Mark Twain didn't want to offend by drinking too fast, or drinking too slow. Eventually, Mark Twain walked away in one piece, and Jack Slade walked away not shooting anyone that morning. I chuckled as I pictured the scene and I could feel the terror Mark Twain felt. He had come face to face with a situation completely out of his control and had to just grit his teeth and hope for the best. He had a wonderful way of writing emotion so perfectly, especially if he could do it and be funny at the same time.

So in the end, being an early bird is not so bad. It can actually be quite fun. I left the Library in a happy mood and a smile on my face. It was a nice experience and the prelude to a wonderful evening with the nicest and friendliest folks around. I had a great time visiting and sharing one member’s 90th birthday party. Oh, and the program went real well too.

PS The photos from top to bottom are: A historical picture of the Trail; The Trail in Northern Colorado; The Trail at the Wyoming border; The Trail as it enters the High Plains of Wyoming

patj

2011 Windsor Labor Day Parade - Read All About It

2011-09-05T20:44:00.006-06:00

The Committee What fun! A nice, pleasant Saturday morning in September and five Friday’s Council Tree members, one husband and two little girls met at Cathy E’s house to turn a long flatbed trailer into a work of art. It can’t be done, you say? Plus, five women agreeing on how to do something? Believe me, it IS possible.

We not only did, but, we had a great time doing it. The artistic imagination of each lady began to come out as we tried different designs and set ups. Vicki C brought her set of harmonic bells and they were fun to play with. Rebecca R tried to teach me how to play them but soon gave up on that idea. Anna R was busy fetching things which is a big help in a project like this. We were all like a bunch of kids looking in the sacks to see what decorations we had to work with. It was like a big grab bag affair. Everyone brought different items and we just put it all together.

Dave R, our favorite HODAR, picked up the bails of hay and set them on the trailer for us. Whew, his strength and long arms sure came in handy. He shortly retreated to a shady spot in Cathy’s yard and sat and read the newspaper as the rest of us got busy.

Lyn R got busy covering our hay bails that are the seats on the float. These make very solid, almost unmovable seats for passengers. Covered in Vicki C’s red white and blue quilts they look nice as a centerpiece of their own. But it might look kind of funny to have a float with just bails of hay on it and no people so we opted for adding people.

Cathy E and Martha R got busy applying the border around the trailer, and it turned out so nice. We put the flags in their holders so we could see the final effect and they looked great. We have a new flag this year that says “Support Our Troops”. We decide to place it at the end of the float so it would swirl out towards the crowd if there is any breeze. Vicki C and I stayed and, with Cathy E we came up with a way to anchor the new flag securely. It is very impressive, of course we had it set it on the trailer to admire it.

During one of our “water breaks” Vicki C and I decided we could possibly come up with a bell duet of a patriotic song to do on the float. Needless to say, our ovation from the other ladies was NOT a standing one. But something good came out of it as Martha R offered to bring her boombox and I will bring my patriotic song CD and we WILL have music playing, just a bit more professional than if Vicki and I were playing it.

So in two and a half hours we turned a flat bed trailer into the most patriotic and loudest float you have ever seen. It will be an eye stopper for sure. Will we win first prize in our category again? Will the crowd love us? Will Windsor know they have a DAR Chapter in their midst? At this point I don’t know, but I know we have had fun so far and expect to do the same on Monday September 5.

The Parade What a good old fashioned September morning! The weather was absolutely gorgeous --- and no wind like last year. By 9am all of the participants had arrived and we enjoyed visiting as we put the finishing touches on the float. The little people looked so adorable in their colonial costumes they were a show stopper for sure. The float was about as “red white and blue” as you can get. Dave R’s beautiful 1949 Chevy Pick Up was the star of the show again.

Unfortunately, the boombox did not make it to the Parade this year so we were a bit more quiet than we intended to be. But, there was plenty of noise so it was okay. We added a special flag this year. It’s a beautiful “Support Our Troops” flag and it rode solo at the back of the float so it had its own showcase.

The longest part of any parade is the waiting to get rolling. There has to be an order to it, but we were sure the officials had lost interest at float #50 and we were #63. It gave us plenty of time to get our bells and whistles ready to go. Finally at close to 10am we were ready to join in the long line of floats. There were many after us and we were #63, so you can see this Parade is very popular.

It was a good feeling to step back in time when families didn’t have to go on an African Safari on every three day weekend that comes along. Just stay home and enjoy their homes, yards, families and community. And enjoy it they did! Walnut Street was packed solid with lawn chairs and benches. Then we turned onto 7th Street and it was well lined all the way to the end at Eastman Park.

We were so lucky to have a “walking crew” that handled the 3,000 (maybe more) flags we handed out. Yes, that many flags and I watched as mostly children reached for them. There were a few disappointed little faces if they missed out, but usually the next person would see them and they got one after all. Even little toddlers knew exactly what it do with them and started waving them as soon as they had one.

The “riders” all rang bells and once in awhile would use the big dinner bell (triangle) that was very loud. We smiled and rang and waved and it was a wonderfully patriotic day. A person’s heart does swell up when our beautiful flag passes, so many stood and paid homage to our flag as we passed. The 1776 flag caught the eye of the crowd as it passed.

It was a smaller crew this year (20), but as they say, there is no limit to what a select few can do. Of course, we aren’t Marines, but we can accomplish so much when we set our sights on a goal and today, was the outcome of that kind of thinking. We all felt especially good as we dispersed at Eastman Park. Proud of our wonderful country, proud of our troops, proud of our flag, proud of Friday’s Council Tree Chapter, NSDAR and having fun at the same time. Thank you to two Dave’s. One is our truck driver and one lends us the trailer for our float every year. Thank you to all that helped. Patj

A Published Author---- Who Me?

2011-08-27T02:43:00.009-06:00

It was the week before I left for my trip to Kentucky when I received an email from Don Rightmyer at the Kentucky Historical Society. He told me that my story about Simon Pryor of Grayson County Kentucky would be the lead story in the Summer issue of "Kentucky Ancestors". This highly respected magazine is issued four times a year from the Kentucky Historical Society in Frankfort, Kentucky. I felt honored and very surprised.

In February 2011 I had submitted several stories about my Kentucky ancestors. These were the usual "Pat Johnson" style, lots of stories but no sources. My philosophy had long been that my descendants probably didn't really care where I got my information. I usually write for my family so I don't really document anything.

I know, this is the genealogists worst case scenario, but I figured if my descendants are at least twice as smart as me (which they are) they will find the sources themselves. That is, if they are interested someday. However, Don Rightmyer replied that "Kentucky Ancestors" does not accept stories or articles that don't have endnotes that follow the Chicago Manual of Style, 16th edition.

Oh dear, I knew someday I would have to figure out how to do it right, and here it was. I could have just forgotten about it, but it was a challenge, so I decided to give it a try. I spent a weekend studying past "Kentucky Ancestors" to find the correct formula for various types of sources. Don had marked my Simon Pryor story for me so I knew how to fix the grammatical errors, but the sources were a bigger challenge. Actually it was a fun weekend, fun that is if you are into that sort of thing.

Finally, I was satisfied that I had everything as good possible, so on Monday morning I emailed the story back to Don. He was so very nice and kind and told me that it looked good. He said he would send it on to the review people that make the final decision about what appears in the magazine.

I more or less went about my usual business and didn't think much more about "Kentucky Ancestors". It was a fun exercise and I figured that was about the extent of it. That was until Tuesday, July 26, when I received the email from Don Rightmyer. He said he was sending me some complimentary copies of the Summer issue. Of course, they would not arrive before I left for Kentucky but that didn't dampen the mood of the day.

On Friday, August 5, I made my first visit to the Kentucky Historical Society. I did the usual looking in the library stacks and vertical files. Then I went to the area that holds the reading material for guests. I can't tell you what a thrill it was to see the Summer issue on the rack and I quickly picked it up and read my story.

During my three weeks in Kentucky I gathered so much material I can write stories for a long time. I can assure you though, there will never be a bigger thrill than seeing my first published story resting on the magazine rack shouting "Read me, read me". I can only hope Simon Pryor and Susanna Morgan are smiling a bit to know they are no longer unknown.

I have already heard from another descendant that read the story and requested some material. I have sent it to him, and with pleasure, because that is what it is all about. Ah yes, I can not imagine not being a genealogist.

Please note, most Public Libraries subscribe to Kentucky Ancestors so these magazines are available to read there. It's the best thing for those of us that are Kentuckians at heart. patj

Ancestors To The Right Of Me & Ancestors To The Left

2011-08-21T17:43:00.005-06:00

When I was planning my trip to Kentucky I almost let MapQuest and my GPS device decide my route. But I looked at the Atlas and decided I wanted to take a less hectic and quieter route. Highway 36 has long been one of my favorite highways. U.S. Highway 36, which dates back to 1926, with its eastern terminus in Ohio, originally ran out to Denver. It is of an age similar to that of U.S. Highway 66, with its more exciting termini of Chicago and Los Angeles. Like "the 66", it was a long, two-lane blacktop running from the Midwest to the West.

Ironically, 36 has largely survived, while 66 has not, because it was a somewhat less important route, and thus did not need to be supplanted by Interstates on its old roadbed. When the Interstates were pushed west, I-80 was run across southern Nebraska, and I-70 across central Kansas, and old Hwy. 36, lying more or less midway between them, was saved by virtue of its irrelevance.

I decided on this route for simplicity's sake but I was soon to realize it was for another reason that was, at first, unknown to me. I thoroughly enjoyed my solitary drive in eastern Colorado and western Kansas. Then, as I was driving about 1/4 of the way across Kansas, a highway sign said "Haddam 3 miles" and pointed north. It dawned on me that this is where my great great grandmother, Sarah Johnson Van Buskirk is buried. I didn't stop and go to Haddam, but I thought, "If I come back this way I will stop and visit her grave site." Her son was George Van Buskirk and his daughter was my grandmother, Goldie Van Buskirk. Sarah had moved to Kansas from Appanoose County Iowa when her only daughter, also named Sarah, moved there with her husband, John Q Else. She lived the remainder of her life in Haddam, Washington County Kansas and is buried in the Cemetery there, with her daughter next to her. She lies many hundreds of miles from where her husband, William Van Buskirk, is buried in Appanoose County Iowa.

Soon I was approaching Seneca, Nemaha County Kansas. This is where my great grandmother Olive May Sanford was born in 1873. Her parents, Charles Baker Sanford and Emma Jane Thompson were married in Seneca in 1872. I next reached the eastern border of Kansas and crossed the Missouri River into St Joseph, Buchanan County Missouri. Here is where John's ancestors lived before they migrated to Montana in the early 1900's. We have spent many hours in St Joseph tracking down these folks' lives, and where the older generation, Jesse and Mary Colyer are buried.

Highway 36 is all 4 lane across Missouri and a beautiful route to travel. I still hadn't come to the conclusion that this route was especially personal to me. Not until I entered Adair County Missouri and saw the sign that pointed to "Kirksville". This is the place my parent's ran off to, in 1934, and got married secretly. Every area has a place that makes it easy for teenagers to get married -- and Kirksville was that place for northeastern Missouri and southern Iowa. I could imagine a 17 and a 19 year old thinking they were grown up enough to take this sort of serious step. Not that they had much choice, but I am grateful they did it. My Aunt Claudine (Dad's sister) and the minister's wife were the witnesses. Suddenly I realized I was on a very special route that touches on many of my ancestor's lives. Yes, Pike County Missouri was just north of Highway 36 and that is where my Thomas Forrest first went from New York before he eventually bought land in Illinois. That is where his son, William, met Catherine McGlauglin and married in Scott County Illinois.

At Hannibal, Missouri I crossed the most beautiful river of all -- the Mississippi. I have crossed this river so many times in my life it is impossible to count them. My parents crossed this river hundreds of times with me and David in tow, in the back seat. I never tire of it and I take a deep breath every time I cross it as I have a special feeling for it. My William O Sanford lived just north of Hannibal on the Illinois side of the river in Hamilton, Hancock County. Another ancestor that crossed my mind this day.

I was on I-72 after I entered Illinois. It's still Hwy 36 as well, but the Interstate overides it in importance. My plan was to take this to the southern outskirts of Springfield, then turn south on I-55 to a turnoff onto Illinois State Highway 16 and eventually Illinois State Highway 127. This was exactly the route I followed, but before getting to Springfield, I passed through Scott County and Morgan County. Its beautiful farm country and I could imagine the Forrest and McGlaughlin families farming in this area before they migrated to Wapello County Iowa. It was a special feeling to actually be in the same area as some of my ancestors. But of course, that is what this trip was all about, but I didn't expect to experience it until I reached Kentucky.

I was relieved to get off of I-55 and onto a quieter highway that meanders south and east toward I-64 which would be my route into Kentucky. The little towns were a delight and I found one called Greenville that I thought was especially pretty.

But imagine my surprise when I came upon a little town called Carlyle, Illinois. It is in Clinton County and I was stumped for a minute as to why that sounded familiar, then I remembered --- this is the town where my great great grandfather, Eugene Casey, enlisted in the Civil War in April 1864. He was two weeks shy of age 18! This was near the end of the War and Abraham Lincoln had ordered Illinois to provide thousands more men even though the State leaders protested. They say this was one of the few times Lincoln lost his temper and he gave them a real vigorous talking to. He said someting like, "Four years ago you encouraged me to start this War and by God you will not bail out on me now -- get me those men". Of course, I am taking literary license with the conversation, but it was along these lines. By then the State didn't care if the men were of age 18 or not, they just wanted to fill the quota. Thus Eugene Casey became a very young Union soldier. He served under "Uncle Billy" better known as, William Tecumseh Sherman, and marched with him across the South and broke the back of the Confederacy. He, like so many others, adored "Uncle Billy" and named one of his sons Sherman.

Carlyle is now a small farming community of 3500 and looks perfectly normal. But I imagine the hustle and bustle of 1864 and I can see a young teenager wandering the streets among many hundreds of other young men, waiting to get signed up for war. Yes, when I think of the risks some of my ancestors took I marvel that I am here at all.

I finally reached I-64 and turned east toward Indiana and Kentucky. My route so far had been an unexpected adventure. I felt like it cut across the years and centuries like a hot knife through butter. My ancestry had been on either side of the road for several hundred miles and it definitely made the trip fun. Nothing bad could have happened to me -- why? Because I had ancestors to the right of me and ancestors to the left of me all the way. And Kentucky was yet to come! patj

Happy Birthday #79 ---- John E Johnson

2011-08-09T16:51:00.004-06:00

Happy Birthday – John E Johnson 1932-2009
August 21 would have been John’s 79th birthday. He always looked forward to his birthdays, and wondered if anyone would remember him. Sometimes they did and sometimes they didn’t. I always did, of course, living so close to the birthday boy. This picture is how I remember him when he was strong and in good health and sort of on the ornery side.

This was on our way home from Sturgis in 1990. That was the 50th Anniversary of Sturgis. We weren’t going to go, but, as we heard the rumble of Harley’s going north on I-25 we just couldn’t resist the “call.” We lived just east of I-25 so we heard the bikers every year heading north. Day and night the roar was like music to our ears. I told my boss, “I have to go” and he said, “Okay.”

We stopped at Douglas, Wyoming to rest before our last jaunt home the next day. As you can see, John always parked our bikes as close to the room as possible. Always parked in a way so that he could keep an eye on them through the night, while I snoozed away. Many times he had some tight maneuvers to get them just right, but he could handle those 850 lb Harleys like bicycles. It’s nice insurance for a short legged Harley rider to have someone that can get you parked in the right places, and sometimes out of the wrong places as well.

Was he a perfect guy? No, not in a long shot. Was he predictable? No, not in a long shot. Was he a softy? No, not in a long shot, but once in awhile he surprised me. Was he totally reliable? No, not in a long shot. What was he? He was a one of a kind, never to meet again type of a guy. He was an experience.

I am glad I met him and married him in spite of the challenges he presented. He was my very best friend and I say to him—Happy Birthday. I firmly believe he is at peace, and never far away. As my favorite author, Richard Bach, says, “There Is No Such Place As Far Away”. patj

My Brother, David V Craig 1939-1980

2011-07-22T20:54:00.007-06:00

On July 25, 2011 my brother would have been 72 years old. Impossible!! I can not even imagine it. That is the way it is with people that die young. I can't imagine Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, or JFK being old either. Death stops that from ever happening and they stay young forever.

David was on this planet for 40 years and they were years filled with love, a little sadness, and the usual life's events. These pictures are of David as a young boy. Clockwise from the top they are: David at age about 8 or 9 when we first moved to Scottsbluff, Nebraska; David in about 6th Grade in Gering Nebraska after our mother married L.L. Evelyn; David taken on December 8, 1941 in Fort Worth, Texas, the day after the Pearl Harbor Attack, this picture has my mom's notation written on the back; David in 1942 when we lived in Tillamook, Oregon during WWII.

He was a very lovable and popular child as folks took to him immediately. He had a natural way of relating to all kinds of people, young and old alike. He inherited a special ability to make all kinds of people comfortable. Our dad, Gerald V Craig had that same talent. We were separated for about a year during 1945 and ever after that we didn't take too many things for granted. He was the light of my mother's life -- and everyone else that met him. Truly an unforgettable person, and I consider it a privilege to have been his sister.

I have to tell you, I was a very bossy and dictatorial older sister. David grew up minding me as I was responsible for him and I took that very seriously. That is until we got older, then it was me that was asking for help and wisdom. And he was always good to give me advice that was very sensible.

David will never be forgotten as long as I am alive. He was such an important part of my life. I regret that my descendants didn't get the chance to know him.

Until later, Patj

The Incredible Snap Pea & The Two Year Old

2011-07-16T12:41:00.005-06:00

What a wonder life is at age 2. At a C.A.R. picnic today I couldn't help but observe what it would be like to be so excited about the world that everything is new and joyful. As little Caelin brought handfuls of snap peas to one of the ladies, he stood perfectly still, enthralled, and he intently studied her every move as she zipped them open. When she opened them to reveal the tasty beans inside he would quietly say "Ohhhhhhh" with great heartfelt reverence. Then he would help himself and scoop the beans out and munch them down. In his world it was better than the latest movie, a stage show, a cartoon show. It was a real eye stopping show for me, and I thought how many can remember being so excited about life? Not many because by the time our memory kicks in we have usually left that "wonderment" age. It was so much fun to watch him. I don't think the most talented actor can portray sheer joy and wonder as I saw it today. I will remember that scene for a long time. Too bad that when we were young parents we usually missed out on such scenes because we were busy "doing things". There is so much to be said for being age 2 and being age 76. (The picture in this piece is NOT Caelin but a little boy that seems to be enjoying something green. He reminded me of Caelin.)

Moral of the story? See more wonder around you, it's fun. patj

The Michael Farris and Phebe Dudley Family - 1749-1795 - Madison Co Kentucky

2011-07-03T10:05:00.007-06:00

One of the good things about preparing for my "Old Kentucky Trip" is that I am reviewing old cases that I had filed and put away long ago. That is ALWAYS a good thing in genealogy. One of the things I found was a copy of a Bible page that describes the family of Michael Farris and Phebe Dudley. I received it years ago from a lady in St Louis Missouri, and I have no idea who's Bible it is, but it is a nice addition to anyone that is researching this family. In the world of genealogy, reviewing is a good habit to get into. However, in our busy lives we tend to not go back and do that until someone asks us a hard question or we stumble onto a new clue and have to reopen a case. Hopefully, this well written picture of my Farris family will aid someone else in their journey. I also found the mention of a town named "Farristown" in Madison County Kentucky -- that is now on my itinerary for sure. Yes, REVIEWING is always a good thing!! patj

My Old Kentucky Trip -- Do YouThink I Can Do It?

2011-06-19T11:20:00.006-06:00

The trip I have dreamed about for a long time is reaching its finalization stage. I am going to travel to Kentucky before the end of 2011 and I am excited. It is going to be great to visit the land of many of my ancestors. They are mostly my paternal ancestors but there are a few on my maternal side as well. I am lucky they stayed pretty much in the central part of Kentucky, although they did move around enough to make it a challenge for me. The map is showing the route I want to cover.

The very top is Louisville, Jefferson Co Kentucky and the very bottom is Albany, Clinton Co Kentucky. The far left is Leitchfield, Grayson Co Kentucky and the far right is Barbourville,Knox County Kentucky. The places are numbered (for my own sanity). #1 at the top is where the Marders, Poulters, Arterburns and Cornwells lived. #5 is the far western county I will visit in Kentucky, its where the Collard, Storms, Morgan and Pryor families lived. #7 and #8 is where the Campbell, Craig, Brown and Hannah families lived. #11 is the far eastern county I will visit and it is where the Craig and Linn families lived.

The event that inspired this trip in the first place was when I found the 1787 Virginia Land Grant for John Goulden. He and the family of Sally Williams lived in the areas of #14, #15, #16, and #17 Scott, Franklin, Fayette and Jessamine counties. I want to find that land and see it for myself. I only hope its not a shopping center now or some other kind of asphalt jungle.

In between the #'s mentioned above I will be checking on other Kentucky families I know. I expect to spend quite a bit of time at the Kentucky State Archives and Historical Society in Frankfort.

My trip is inspired by a movie I saw not so long ago. It is called "The World's Fastest Indian". It's the story of a man in New Zealand (Anthony Perkins) that was nearing the end of his life and he had many heart problems. His dream was to travel to the United States and race his 1929 Indian motorcycle at the salt flats in Utah. The movie was about his adventures getting there -- and winning the race. It was something he was driven to do and the risk was not ever in the equation. I recommend the movie to everyone. It is a good one.

I don't especially feel I am nearing the end of my life -- but it is inevitable at some point. I am driven to take this trip. I am blessed that I am in good enough physical and mental health to do it. Any risk involved is immaterial to me. Do you think I can do it? Of course, I will report back when the trip is a memory. patj

The Adventures of the McLaughlin Brothers In 1795

2011-06-13T06:50:00.004-06:00

The following is a story written by William Gilbert Lafayette McLaughlin. He is the nephew of William and Berriman McLaughlin. Berriman is my 4th great grandfather. Although it is mostly about his brother William, I know Berriman was there and it gives me insight to his life before he became a husband and father -- in other words when he was a young, single, carefree man. This is what I love about genealogy -- learning what the people were like and what their lives were like. I hope you enjoy a sneak peek into 1795. I will take editorial license in shortening the story.

"Uncle William and Berriman after they became to years of maturity, [probably ca. 1795] went over to the Ohio River and engaged in flat boating as far down as Louisville, KY. In those days there were many hostile tribes of Indians, all along the river, there had to be army posts at intervals along the river to look for them.

Uncle William went first to work on flat boating; his boat stopped at the Indiana shore opposite Louisville near what is now Jeffersonville. There was an army post at that place; the Indians were making a good deal of trouble at that point. They had to send out scouts to watch them and keep the post advised as to their whereabouts. The flatbioat was tied up at this point, and the hands had not much to do; they would go out and camp and spend time with the soldiers. The principal scout was Washburn a very fleet footed man. One day the officer in command ordered chief scout(Washburn) to go out and reconnoiter and find out the locality of the Indians. Washburn asked if anyone would volunteer to go with him, Uncle Wm told him he would go. So Washburn looked him over and says "Do you think you can run fast enough to get away from Indians if they should give us chase?" he says "I don't know but I am willing to try."

So they started out cautiously through the thick forest and underbrush until mid afternoon when suddenly they came upon Indians that started shooting at them. Washburn's powderhorn was hit and exploded. The two men ran even faster and soon Uncle William was passing Washburn. Uncle William was starting to fire his gun and Washburn told him not to as the indians then would know his gun was not loaded and he would be a target. Washburn hid in the brushes and yelled at Uncle Willliam to run back to the camp and get help. Washburn spent the night lying perfectly still to avoid being spotted by the Indians.

Uncle William got back to camp but they wouldn't believe his story. Finally the post sent a squad out to see, and it was led by Uncle William. He led them to the spot and they shot a few Indians and routed the rest. Washburn crawled out and he was hungry and thirsty. The soldiers had brought food and water nad he ate at last. The boat crew bragged that they had a man that could run so fast no one could beat him. They wanted to entertain a bet but Uncle William wanted no part of it. Perhaps he knew motivation had to be there --- like running for your life?

In those days they had to get upstream by what was called a cordell. A strong cable was run upstream and made fast and the boat was pulled by a windlass on the bow of the boat and others would push with their pike poles if they could reach the bottom; this was slow traveling. Some would walk home. No steam boats in those days."

Berriman McLaughlin later married Catherine French and was the father of 11 children. He must have liked what he saw along the Ohio River as he later migrated to Scioto County. He served in the War of 1812.

William McLaughlin later married Laney French and was the father of 15 children. He never migrated from the Maryland and Virginia area where he was born. He served in the War of 1812.

Both were sons of Revolutionary patriot Daniel McLaughlin and Mary Key.

I Knew A Veteran Or Two -- May 30, 2011

2011-05-30T20:05:00.006-06:00

I have had the privilege to know several American Veterans. My husband, John Edwin Johnson, was a combat veteran of Korea. Like most veterans, he was very young, because War is a young man's game. He had lied about his age to join the Wyoming National Guard in Lovell, Wyoming. Suddenly, he was thrust into a War half way around the World. He went, he served, he remembered terrible memories and he persevered with life when he returned.

My stepfather, Lee P Johnston, was a combat veteran of WWII. He has been gone for two and a half years but I remember his stories of being behind German lines as a downed paratrooper and having to survive and hide until he could reach his own unit. He was a strong man and after his War experiences there wasn't much that scared him, how could anything scare you after being in War? Like so many other WWII veterans he came home and went on with life.

My brother in law, Wendell Johnson, is a combat veteran of Vietnam. I am not sure how many tours he served, but he was subjected to Agent Orange and lives with that after effect. I am proud to know him.

And this brings me to today, May 30, 2011 as I attended the Memorial Day Service at the Windsor Cemetery. It was the first that my DAR chapter, Friday's Council Tree Chapter participated in. It was a beautiful day with intermittent clouds trading places with sunny skies. The ceremony was conducted by the Forbes McKay American Legion Post 109. Our own chapter member, Karla Flook, presented a great and inspiring speech followed by American Legion Commander, Daniel Barrera and Windsor Mayor John Vasquez. The bagpipe music and the beautiful singing of patriotic songs was very emotional. It was a beautiful ceremony and am so glad I attended. We all need that reminder at least once a year -- that we owe so much to so many.

I am proud to be a veteran's wife, a veteran's daughter, a Daughter of the American Revolution, and I am especially proud to be an American. patj

Lady and Tramp at the Family Tree

2011-05-21T22:36:00.006-06:00

This amazing Family Tree was sent to me today. I helped a man in Longmont last week when I spoke at the Longmont Genealogical Society and he sent me this card as a thank you. At first glance it looked like an interesting thank you card but upon reading the text I realized it was something very special. The picture was painted by Barbara Stone in Longmont, Colorado in 2008. I wanted all to share a really neat idea and a beautiful work of art. I called Mr Meyer and asked his permission to post it on my blog. I had the nicest conversation with him and he promised that if I speak again at Longmont he would be there. This is another example of the nice things that happen when you get into genealogy. Enlarge the text by double clicking on the image. It is a wonderful story. patj

Juda Clifton --- One of my 3rd Great Grandmothers

2011-05-11T21:29:00.000-06:00

The young lady you see is not Juda Clifton. She is a woman that represents, to me, all of my foremothers. There is no picture of most of them but this image is my way of saying, “At one time they were all young, hopeful, and beautiful.” Finding the females in my family can be a great challenge, but one I love to undertake. And it all starts with a thought and seeing clues where they are quite hidden.

The story of Juda Clifton is definitely related to the subject of wills and probate. I had long believed that Juda was my ancestress. I knew she married John Van Buskirk in Pickaway County Ohio in 1803. I was also sure that my ancestor William Van Buskirk was their son. But as you know, thinking it and proving it is two different things. Without proof it is just a good story or a myth.

Because John VanBuskirk died intestate, his probate record verified my assumption that William was his son. Dying intestate meant all of John’s heirs were identified, and found, to settle the disposal of his farm in Madison County Indiana. Because the first Madison County land deeds stated that JohnVan Buskirk was of Ross County Ohio I knew I had the right JohnVan Buskirk. So this probate record answered question #1.

The other question was, who were Juda Clifton’s parents? Because genealogists always want to know more, it became an obsession. One day I found an abstract of the Delaware will of Obediah Smith of Sussex County. This abstract said “I leave to my daughter Margaret Clifton and her sons, Job, Benjamin, Judah and John, my land ……...” Because the name Juda Clifton is rather rare I wondered if that abstract could be wrong. Something about genealogy makes us skeptics and questioners.

Delaware has a wonderful way to order wills and probate records online. I was familiar with this as I had been researching another family from Delaware. I immediately ordered the probate packet of Obediah Smith in Sussex County Delaware.

Finally the packet arrived from the Delaware Hall of Records. I could hardly wait to open it and find what Obediah Smith actually said. I was delighted when I read his actual words written in 1794. He said “I leave to my daughter, Margaret Clifton and her CHILDREN, Job, Benjamin, Judah and John my land on ……..” The person that abstracted the will had assumed they were all sons. A typical human sort of thing to do, but it could have caused me to miss out on another female ancestress and her parents. I was equally excited because there was a Benjamin Clifton living in Pickaway County in 1803 when Juda married John Van Buskirk. Ordering the record was a gamble and in this case it paid off.

Thanks to probate records I had verified my William Van Buskirk’s parents and had discovered an entirely new family in the parents of Juda Clifton. To test this I submitted to DAR two supplemental. One for Benjamin Clifton and one for Obediah Smith. They both passed with flying colors. An extra bonus for me is when these cases reveal another American Revolutionary Patriot and both Benjamin Clifton and Obediah Smith were patriots.

Mother's Day 2011

2011-05-09T20:42:00.005-06:00

It was a beautiful day on May 8, 2011. The weather was perfect and the day had a springlike mood to it. Early in the afternoon the Folsom Society C.A.R. gathered at the Weidlich home in Windsor, Colorado. This was our last meeting until fall and we celebrated with a Colonial Tea and Ice Cream Party. Snickerdoodle and gingerbread cookies accompanied by ice cream and tea made the refreshments have a Colonial flavor. It was a pleasant afternoon of visiting and looking at the Colonial toys Lyn had gathered for the members.

When I left there I headed to Fort Collins to meet Cindy and Don at Hunan's for dinner. Its my favorite place to eat and we had a relaxing dinner and visit. It was a fitting end to a beautiful day. I wanted to share the picture of my flowers as well. Roses from Laurel and the others from C.A.R. I am a very lucky mother!!
----patj

April 30, 2011 Colorado State Society, NSDAR State Conference

2011-05-01T20:02:00.004-06:00

The past weekend was a very memorable one for me. This was the 108th Colorado State Society, NSDAR State Conference, and I was there!! Friday's Council Tree Chapter was one of the hostess chapters for the Conference. Because we wanted to show support for this assignment many of our members attended. I have to admit I usually sit this event out but I decided if I ever went, this would be the time to do so. I have to admit the experience was well worth the trip to the Inverness Hotel & Conference Center at County Line Road in Englewood. It is always a good thing to learn to know DAR members from different chapters throughout Colorado. Of course, I first look to see how many "ancestor bars" they wear on their ribbon. To me, this is the one reason for being in DAR ---- paying honor to our patriot ancestors. Not that I am keeping track (g)

The biggest thrill for me was Saturday morning when State VIS Chairman, Regina Fallace, announced that I was the recipient of the "2011 VIS Volunteer of the Year" award. VIS in DAR vernacular means Volunteer Information Specialist. In other words the computer chairman for a chapter. You can read the citation in the above graphic as well as see the certificate I received. Needless to say, I am quite honored to receive this award from my peers.

The whole experience was most enjoyable and I am so glad I attended this conference. It is wonderful to hear of the many good works this Society accomplishes in a year. From DAR Schools, to Project Patriot, Veteran's Services, and many Scholarships it is clear that this is a group of strong, smart and dedicated women united in providing service to America.

The Lexington Alarm Tea -- April 17, 2011

2011-04-20T11:33:00.005-06:00

This was a beautiful April day in Colorado. It was typical of springtime in the Rockies, for sure. We had blue skies with occasional clouds drifting into the picture. 37 people gathered in Windsor, Colorado for the 3rd Annual Lexington Alarm Tea. This is the signature event for Friday’s Council Tree Chapter, NSDAR and it has become one of our favorite endeavors.

The refreshment table was gorgeous with red rose bouquets and a pair of tall candelabra with lighted candles. The food was beautiful, and as always delicious. We have the best cooks in the World!!

We gathered to honor the patriots that stepped up on April 19, 1775 in Lexington, Massachusetts. There were 13 guests, and we love guests. Our special guest was Colorado State Regent,and her husband. It was a pleasant surprise when she arrived. Also joining us was Domi J, great great granddaughter of Chief Friday. She is well acquainted with our chapter that is named after her ancestor. We welcome all of our guests and hope they will visit us again.

After the welcome by Regent, Carolyn we had a wonderful and fitting prayer by Chaplain Jo T and then proudly did the patriotic exercises. Our good friend Carol set up a corner of the fellowship hall to take the “official group photo”. This was a fun exercise as she tried to get 37 people to all look the same direction, all smile and all have their eyes open at the same time. It could almost be part of the program. Needless to say, she was quite successful and we look forward to a beautiful picture.

Lyn gave a great program about the Minute Men of April 19, 1775 and their adversaries, the Red Coats. The description of the rag tag militia shows that we were the underdog from the very beginning – but we won and that is the most important thing. I can’t tell you how proud I am to be descended from one of the Lexington Alarm patriots. There are four of these patriots represented in our chapter, Ebenezer Sanford, Elias Newton, John Pierson and Nicholas Bishop.

Our tradition is that each member brings two tea cups to the Tea. Then they are judged and the winners this year were: most patriotic tea cup, Sally W; smallest tea cup, Linda S; prettiest tea cup, Georgia J. In the hat contest the winners were: most patriotic hat, Ethel M and the prettiest hat, Ashley S (and it was really gorgeous). The lucky winner of the large quilt was Phyllis C. The winner of the smaller quilt was Ashley. The quilts were donated by chapter member Christine B and her friend Juliana.

The rest of the afternoon was spent socializing and visiting. Making new friends and renewing old friendships. Thank you to the Lexington Alarm Tea Committee. They are Michele H (Chairman) and members Iva Z and Ashley S. Ashley and Iva made the cute tea bag favors. Thank you to the chapter members that came early and set up and stayed and cleaned up --- and brought the delicious food.

I have a feeling that all went home feeling good about the day and good about our patriot ancestors and good about our history. I know I did.

For the members that missed the Lexington Alarm Tea, I hope you will be able to join us next year. It is a fun day.

patj

Mads (M.C.) Christian Jensen & Maren (Mary) Mikklesdatter

2011-04-06T18:16:00.008-06:00

Jencene Caroline Jensen 1851-1937

2005 was a great year for genealogical breakthroughs and one of the most surprising for me was finding out more about my 3rd great grandparents, Mars and Maren Jensen.

What I knew before May 2005:Their daughter, Jencene Caroline Jensen, married Eugene Casey and had one of my great grandmothers (we all have 8 of them). I had always known this couple as Mars and Mary Jensen, born in Denmark. I knew they immigrated to America in 1857, settled on a farm in Nodaway County Missouri, and died in Council Bluffs, Iowa and were buried in Fairview Cemetery there. I visited their graves in 1997. I knew they had three daughters that survived them. I had more or less figured that these facts would be all I ever would find out. With nothing more of a clue than "born in Denmark" it seemed impossible to ever find out more, especially as complicated and unfamiliar as Danish research is. Stories of the patronymic naming system had made it a place I didn't care to visit, research wise that is.

But, like so many times in my life, when I say I will never go there – something decides that I WILL go there. In this case I am grateful that I did!! In February 1869, M. C. Jensen bought 80 acres of rich farmland in Nodaway County Missouri for $800.00. On December 30, 1875 Maren (Mary) went to the Clerk of the County and had the title to those 80 acres put in her name. She claimed that her husband had abandoned her and she needed to have the land in her name since she was living on it. On May 2, 1882 both M. C. and Mary Jensen signed the deed that showed the sale of the 80 acres to Rufus Cordell for the sum of $1200.00. Another mystery about these folks is, where did Mads Christian Jensen go in 1875? Somewhere far enough away that Mary didn't think he would return. But he DID return, they reconciled and sold their farm and moved to Council Bluffs, Iowa. Their three daughters lived in that area and it was natural for them to join them there.

What I knew after May 2005: One evening I was preparing a genealogy lesson for the ladies at DAR. One of the sites I wanted to feature was WorldGenWeb. Not having done much foreign research, I found it to be a lesson for myself. One of my immigrant couples that has long escaped detection is Mars and Mary Jensen. I decided to go to the Danish genealogical sites to prepare my lesson and get familiar with WorldGenWeb. Of course, I was positively, absolutely sure that none of my ancestors have ever been members of the LDS Church. This became a more powerful lesson -- never assume that you know everything possible about people! Because Mars (Mads) and Mary (Maren) immigrated during the height of the LDS movement in Denmark, I decided to test my assumption. The Scandinavian missionaries had great success in Denmark at that time. I found a web site that lists the LDS converts from Scandinavia. I put in Mars Jensen - no luck. I decided to put in Jencene Jensen (my gr great grandmother, their daughter). Sure enough I hit the jackpot! She was on the list at age 3 (the indexer misread 6 for 3) with Mads Jensen, Maren Jensen, Martha Jensen, herself and Willard Jensen. Mads was age 29, Maren age 34, Martha age 8, Jensine age 3 (wrong), and Willard age 1/4. They were passengers on the ship ‘Tuscarora'. It said they were of Vensyssel and Mads was a mason. Hmm - could this be where I inherited an obsession with things being straight and centered?

I made a quick journey to the Public Library to look at a big atlas of Denmark. Suddenly I had an intense desire to learn more about the geography and places of Denmark. I found Vensyssel is at the northern most tip of Denmark in the area called "The Horns". Still, that encompasses a large area that is thickly populated with villages and parishes and districts.

Oh dear, this was going to be a long learning process. My next question was why is the father's name Mads, when his descendants think it is Mars? The main culprit is his daughter, Jencene Casey's death certificate. It clearly states that her father was Mars Jensen. The informant was Jencene's oldest daughter, Mary Belle Casey Fauble. Perhaps Aunt Belle (as she was known) misunderstood or remembered incorrectly her mother's father. It is a case in point of not always believing what you read!

Several years ago I had asked a person in Denmark to look for Mars Jensen. He replied that Mars was NOT a Danish name. I didn't think much about it at the time, but now I remembered his comment and now I knew he was right. In the US censuses he is listed as Marse, M.C., and Lars. Was the accent so hard to understand that the census taker heard these variations? The handwriting on the Marse entry leaves a little to be desired and I can see how an indexer would interpret the name as Marse, but now I can see where it COULD be Mads.

I still couldn't quite believe I had found my family on the ship's list for the Tuscarora. I had to find out more. I went to a wonderful site on the Internet that is read by many gracious people in Denmark, and they are so kind to us Americans. I stated my case and asked how I could find out if this was indeed my Jencene Caroline Jensen and her parents and siblings, and how could I find out where they came from in Denmark. By the end of the day I had my answer. Mr. Flemming Aasklint answered my query and had found them!! He found them in the 1855 Census for Taars Parish, Borglum District, Hjorring County, Denmark. From there he went to parish records and found Jensine Caroline Madsen's christening, her birth date 13 June 1851, (which I knew so I was convinced it was her), her parents, Mads Christian Jensen and Maren Mikkelsdatter. Next he found the marriage of Mads and Maren on 1 December 1850 in Ugilt parish (Maren's home parish). Note that Jensine was christened with the patronymic name of Madsen because her father was Mads Jensen. About 1850 the Danish government dictated that Danish citizens would stop the patronymic naming system and start using a surname for the family that was the same as the father. It took several years for this to be accepted so many still used the old naming system. Another phenomenon about Danish research is that the women usually are referred to by their maiden name and don't lose their identity when they marry.

So with this wonderful information from Flemming Aasklint, I was convinced that this was my family. Next I wondered why they emigrated on a ship that was specifically hired for LDS converts bound for Zion in North America. Now I know that they DID convert to the LDS Church. I found the christening record of their baby, Erastus Levi Madsen in 1856. There was no Lutheran christening information, but a notation that he was a Mormon. The law in Denmark stated that every baby had to be recorded in the parish records. This was to be done even if they didn't get the Lutheran christening performed. Little Erastus died shortly after birth as he did not accompany the family to America in 1857. But he proved that the Jensen family definitely converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My next question was, what happened to cause this family not to travel to Zion (Utah). I learned that the ‘Tuscarora' landed in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on July 3, 1857. The 286 people that left Denmark on May 30, 1857 were taken by railroad to Burlington, Iowa. From this point they were to scatter and find work to pay the expenses of the remainder of their journey to Zion.

I will never know what happened to cause Mads and Maren to not go any further. Their last child, Minnie, was born in Burlington, Iowa in 1860. They stayed there at least three years. By 1868/1869 they were in Nodaway County Missouri.

Maren (Mary) was of Ugilt Parish in Vennebjerg District in Hjorring, Nordyjlland County, Denmark Mads was of Taars Parish in Borglum District in Hjorring, Nordyjlland County Denmark. The two home parishes are about 10 miles apart. Maren was the daughter of Michel Michelsen and Karen Mickelsdatter. She was born 14 Feb 1821 in Ugilt Parish. Maren died 7 May 1903 in Council Bluffs, Iowa. She had her first daughter, Martha, out of wedlock with Jens Christian Mortensen. Martha was born 3 Apr 1848. Mads Christian Jensen raised Martha as his own daughter. She was listed as his daughter when he died 4 Aug 1905. On 1 Dec 1850 Maren and Mads Christian Jensen were married in her home parish of Ugilt. In 1900, on the census, she stated that she had borne 7 children and 3 were alive. I have found the names of all of her children but one.

Mads Christian Jensen was the illegitimate son of Jens Christian Madsen and Dorethe Christensdatter. He was born 3 Jul 1824 in Taars Parish. The fact that he was illegitimate didn't keep his records from being entered in the parish and his christening taking place with sponsors and witnesses. The same as any other baby in the parish. On one Danish census he is listed as "slegfredbarn". Once again I went to my Danish friends on the Internet. That word means an illegitimate child born of two single people. If Jens or Dorethe had been married to someone else he would have been an "horeunge" or a whore's child born of an adulterous affair. So in the ranking of illegitimate children, he was of a higher status. The Scandinavian people do not seem to have the prudish prejudices that we Americans have inherited from our English roots.

At any rate, I am glad Jens and Dorethe had a baby boy – otherwise I would not have his genes and blood running through my veins. I would not be who I am, nor would my descendants.

Thanks to the wonderful people of Denmark that take pity on us Americans, I have now found six generations of Jencene Jensen Casey's ancestors. It was truly a miracle that I found them. I feel especially close to them. I have a gold pin that I believe belonged to Jencene. It was given to me when my grandmother, Hazel Windle Cary (her granddaughter) died. It is a gold bar with a sail boat on a body of water with windmills in the background. It looks to me like an item a six year old girl would bring with her to America. I don't know for sure, but I have decided that it was hers. I also have her sewing thimble, and it is so small I can barely get it on my little finger. I have her sworn oath to always be strictly temperate about alcohol. She and her husband, Eugene Casey were strict teetotalers. They also never went into debt for anything. They believed in saving until they could pay for anything, even a house. I have a letter that was written to her daughter, Belle Fauble, from friends in South Dakota. They described how delightful Eugene and Jencene were and how proud Jencene was when she got her hair "bobbed" at well over 80 years of age. How I wish I could visit with her. Jencene died 16 July 1937 when I was two years old. patj

A Visit To Warriors And Heroes ---- Way Back In 1990

2011-03-23T08:57:00.005-06:00

[Author's note: This was written in 1991 and it is a LONG story. Have you guessed yet that this blog will eventually have all of my stories in it -- mixed in with current stuff of course. patj]

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Being human can mean being an expert at putting off things. Dreaming about doing something, or wishing, or imagining is a wonderful aspect of being human, but it's easy to go no further in fulfilling those things dreamed and talked about.

In my own experience I find that sometimes I have to make myself put forth the effort to act on my dreams and plans. The close of 1990 is a perfect example because I had talked and dreamed for ten years of being at Wounded Knee, South Dakota on December 29, 1990. This would be the one hundredth anniversary of that infamous and tragic end to the Indian Wars.

The early winter of 1990 was relatively mild so my plans raced headlong into December. Around the middle of the month, Mother Nature , or the weatherman, or my personal "character building guardian angel" stepped in. The weather turned bitterly cold, I mean twenty below zero cold! Suddenly the everyday conversation was concerned with cars that wouldn't start, water pipes that were frozen solid, wind chill factors of seventy-five degrees below zero, and other such cheerful topics. Not exactly weather that was conducive to a trip into the Plains of South Dakota.

This called for a serious talk with myself! Have I turned into one of those "normal" people that are primarily concerned with personal comfort? One of those people that have never been on my ten most admired list? Isn't new adventure and new experiences what is most important in life? Isn't my new philosophy that as I grow older I can afford to be more daring and risk taking because I am cashing in the dividends of living for over a half a century? Isn't this a commitment I had made to myself many years ago to do something that's a "one moment in time" opportunity? After all, I have a relatively good vehicle, and a willing and adventuresome companion in my husband, John.

I don't believe it's even remotely possible that my "conservative and logical" self could out maneuver my "eccentric and idealistic" self, but it tried! As the referee in this debate I have to admit that I was slightly biased and extremely pleased with the outcome!

John and I left Mom and Lee's house on the day after Christmas. It had been a beautiful Christmas with Don and Cindy, Chad and Ryan, Laurie and Logan, John and I all being together at Mom's. Mom had overcome frozen pipes and other cold weather obstacles and had created a warm and hospitable weekend that we will all cherish in our memories. The wonderful smells of good food cooking, the Christmas tree and decorations, the young boys that are at the stage of life between child and adult, the little girl that reaps the attention of all, MY little girls that even though grown, will always be little girls to me, the excitement of unknown treasures wrapped in bright paper. It was a GRAND Christmas in 1990.

We left Scottsbluff, Nebraska and drove north through the panhandle. It was a sunny, bright, cold crisp day as we traveled the lonesome highway through the ranch lands of Western Nebraska. For me it is a great escape to get into the open country where I can see so far. The solitude feels good, renews my spirit, and makes it possible for me to handle "civilization" for a bit longer.

After arriving at Hot Springs, South Dakota and arranging our lodging, we decided to drive around the town and see what adventure may pop up. I wanted to see the State Veterans Home because my great-great grandparents lived their last days there in the 1930's. I got directions to the home and off we went! What we discovered as we drove up the snow covered road, was an old, but, beautiful facility tucked into the pines of the Black Hills. Perhaps some new buildings since the 1930's, but, for the most part, probably the same as it looked when Eugene and Jencene Casey first saw it. My mother remembers that they were happy, proud, and pleased with their "apartment" at the Old Soldiers Home, as it was called in those days.

There is a National Cemetery at Hot Springs and I had a feeling that I might find that the Casey's were buried there --- or at least that Eugene would be. Since this was a regular business day at the Home, John suggested that I go in and inquire about any records or information available.

I climbed the wooden steps to the administration building and walked across the large front porch that spans the width of the building. As I opened the large, heavy door I stepped into an earlier time of our century. The Home was opened in 1890 (the same year as Wounded Knee), so this main building was probably built around 1900. It had the typical high ceilings, long and narrow windows, and creaking wooden floors that reminded me of other old buildings that I've been in. Buildings like court houses, schools and hospitals. Buildings that shout, "I'm an institution" from every corner. I like these kinds of buildings because they look like what they are --- they aren't prettied up to fool or confuse anyone. They are from a simpler, or perhaps a more honest time than now.

I asked a man where the records office was and he eagerly escorted me up the stairs to the second floor. The young woman in charge of records was very pleasant and didn't seem at all flustered when I requested information about people that had died prior to 1937. Perhaps when you work with records everyday it's not unusual, but for me, I thought it a miracle that she knew exactly where to go to look! At any rate, she found a card for Jencene, but none for Eugene. This card indicated that Jencene was buried at the Home's cemetery. Another record book revealed that Eugene was buried next to her. Plots 14 & 15 in Row 5 were their final resting place.

As I was talking to the record clerk, the Home's administrator entered the office. He took me down the hall and showed me the road to the cemetery. He assured me that it was permissible to drive to the cemetery on the back part of the property. He also gave me a detailed history of the Home and proudly explained the many photos that were displayed in the hallway. I was elated as I left the building and excitedly told John what I had learned. This was more success than I expected when I first went in.

We drove behind the Home and started climbing up the snow packed road. We passed the outbuildings and dairy barn that were used a long time ago when the Home produced most of it's food. After a few sharp turns in the road and perhaps a quarter of a mile of slow climbing, we entered the cemetery area. It's located in a beautiful setting surrounded by a dense forest of pines. There was a soft blanket of snow covering the ground and it was extremely quiet and peaceful. As we approached the entrance, we saw that there was a padlock on the gate. John said that we weren't going to be this close and turn away, so ----- we climbed over the fence. After searching the entire cemetery we finally found Row 5. Later we discovered row markers, but the snow had completely covered them making them invisible.

At last we found the markers for Eugene and Jencene Casey. Over fifty years have passed since they died and I wondered as I stood there if any other descendants have ever been here. For some reason I doubted it. I felt at peace and happy as we left the cemetery. I have inherited pictures of these ancestors, so I have an image of them in my mind. Eugene Casey, Civil War veteran, proud of his many medals that adorned his suit. Jencene Casey, born in 1851 in Den- mark, married very young to her soldier husband and mother of a large family. Now I know where they are eternally resting and it completes the picture for me.

This adventure alone warranted the stamp "SUCCESS" for the trip. Everything to come would be an extra dividend as far as I was concerned. For the next two days we did the conventional tourist type of things. We swam at Evans Plunge, visited Crazy Horse Mountain, visited Rapid City, and thoroughly enjoyed the Black Hills without the hustle and bustle of the tourist season.

At Crazy Horse Mountain we received very special attention from the young Indian boy that was the guide on duty. Actually, we were the only customers he had and he seemed lonely. The weather was bitterly cold and added it's own personality to our travels. It was hard to beat the ecstasy of getting back in to the truck after being out in the cold wind and blowing snow.

After returning to Hot Springs on Thursday evening, we decided to make our pilgrimage to Wounded Knee on Friday, December 28th. This was one day earlier than our plans, but we had a feeling that the 29th would have too many people there and that wasn't what we came to see.

Friday, the 28th of December was as cold as the days before had been. The wind swept plains looked formidable as we turned south and then east toward Pine Ridge. The sky was cloudy and dark as snow flurries whipped across the lonely highway. The weather was co-operating completely in setting the stage as it had been in 1890.

As we came to the reservation town of Oglala we turned off the highway. We drove through the little town and came to a dead end. As I turned in to a yard to make a u-turn, two little round faces appeared in the window of the shabby little house. They were curious but sad little faces, just as the town looked. The poverty that we saw there will remain in our memories for a long time. I'm an advocate of people being able to live as they choose, but I didn't come away with the feeling that these people chose this life style.

The town of Pine Ridge came into view as we traveled east. It definitely is the reservation's main city. As we dropped into the valley, the influences of civilization were apparent. A nice, modern hospital sits on a hill above the town. The buildings that house the services that the government doles out are located at the main intersection. We turned there and drove to the south edge of town where the reservation school is. Many of the houses surrounding the school are boarded up now. Reminders of a day when the teachers lived on the school grounds, just as the soldiers lived at the forts.

Across the street from the government offices is a new, modern Conoco station that is one of those combination deli, eating area and, in this case, a social gathering place. We parked as close to the door as possible because of the bitterly cold wind, but even a few feet was almost unbearable. The atmosphere inside was definitely influenced by the weather. People of all ages and sizes were bundled up for the cold and the look on people's faces was that strained look
that extreme cold causes. The place was a buzz of excitement and many little conversations were going on at each table. Some non-natives were gathered at a table near us. It wasn't hard to figure out that they were not from this State, or even from this part of the country. They were smartly groomed and dressed in stylish "cold weather" clothes. Their conversation was about where to position cameras for the most effect, CNN, NBC and other terms that announced
that they were here for a news story. I don't know how the Sioux felt about them, but for myself, I rather resented them being here. For some unknown reason I didn't want to share Wounded Knee with these people. John and I decided to get started for Wounded Knee before these people.

We continued east on Highway 18 for about ten miles, driving in the blowing snow until we reached the turn off to Wounded Knee. It was another fourteen miles north. The wind covered the hills with a light dusting of snow and my imagination was creating an image of how this country would have looked one hundred years ago. Not that much different than today, except for the narrow paved road that carried us to Wounded Knee.

As the memorial site and cemetery came in to view, it was clear that we were going to have to share the area with many other people. Much different than our visit six years ago at this same time of year. On that December day in 1984 there wasn't a living soul within many, many miles of the place. Today the parking lot below the cemetery was filled with cars, pickups, campers and busses. Most of the vehicles were running and were filled with people trying to keep warm. We found a place to park, put on all of the warm clothing we had, grabbed the camera and started up the hill to the mass grave. A few people looked at us with curiosity, but for the most part no one paid too much attention to us.

The climb up the hill was so miserable in the cold, 20 below zero wind, that we walked with our backs to it temporarily to be able to catch our breath. Finally we reached the arch that forms the entrance to the cemetery. We stood at the edge of the mass grave and paid our respect to the spirits that live there. This was our main purpose for making the trip here this year. It was a quiet, solitary, and private moment for each of us.

We walked around the rest of the cemetery before we started back down the hill. Indian cemeteries are always an interesting sight. Even on this blustery, cold, dreary day it looked bright and colorful with it's many plastic flowers scattered around. We first noticed this a few years ago when we drove to the cemetery in the Wind River Reservation at Fort Washakie, Wyoming. This is where Sacajawea is buried. During that trip, we drove along the country road leading to the Indian cemetery when we suddenly saw something bright on the hillside to our left. There it was, alight with vivid colors that climbed the hillside like a field of wildflowers. Indian cemeteries definitely have a unique look that perhaps reflects their outlook on death as an event to celebrate.

We couldn't spend too much time in that bitter wind, so we hurried down the hill to the truck. What a welcome shelter that was as we sat there letting the heater warm us. Little wonder that the corpses from one hundred years ago could be stacked like wood into the wagons that came from Chadron to help clear the area after the "battle". The weather in 1890 during the "Moon Of Trees Popping", was almost exactly as it was on this day one hundred years later.

As a last minute whim, we decided to follow the road north to the next town. We passed the spot where Chief Big Foot had surrendered to the Army on December 28, 1890. It was a pretty little valley with pine trees scattered through it. As we traveled on we passed a large group of Indian people walking on the highway. There were many cars, trucks and campers following to provide aid to the participants. It was a moving and symbolic sight.

We reached the next little reservation town named Porcupine. There were many cars and horse trailers lining up on the highway. We didn't know until later that there were two hundred people riding horses over the exact route that Big Foot's tribe had traveled in the days before December 29th. Porcupine was apparently their last stop before starting the final part of their ride.

At any rate, we headed back from Porcupine, passed the marchers again, passed the memorial site, and finally reached the highway that leaves the reservation behind.

We were quiet for some time after our visit to Wounded Knee. It was something we had planned and dreamed of doing --- and we did it! It was what I call a "SOUL TRIP".

Unexpected things had been found along the way and this made it a completely successful adventure. Although unrelated in time and history, we had found "Warriors and Heroes"!

Frederick Kuhlman 1883-1971

2011-03-06T12:36:00.006-07:00

Mr.Frederick Kuhlman is affectionately known to me as "Grampa" Kuhlman. For many years we were television watching buddies. We were also "smoking" buddies, and sometimes we even worked in some story telling AND some story listening. I usually picked "Grampa" up on Saturdays, to watch television. This time frame would be middle to late 1950's. Television was relatively new, and if a family had a set, they were very popular with friends and family that did not have one. This new technology fascinated "Grampa", and we would sit and watch Lawrence Welk, Sgt. Bilko, Gunsmoke, and Saturday Night Wrestling. "Grampa" had comments for all of these programs. He could have pursued a career as a TV critic. I smile as I remember his analysis of Lawrence Welk. "Ach, he was no good as a farmer he had to play music to make a living". Yet he loved to watch the polkas and hear the old songs. Saturday Night Wrestling was his favorite of ALL programs. He would get so mad at the villians and cheer for the good guys.

Many evenings were spent listening to "Grampa" relate stories of when he was young. I wrote a few facts down as he told me things from the past. I wish I had been smart enough to write down MORE of it, while on the other hand, I am grateful I wrote the few things that I did! Sometimes he surprised me, like the time he told me he had been married once before he married Anna Weber, the mother of his seven children. As I recall him in my memory, I can see him as the dapper and neat old gentleman that he was. Usually dressed in his dark green shirt and pants, the ones that are sort of like a work uniform. He wore a light brown hat, and it was worn tipped rather roguishly to the side. He was a small, thin, man and very neat in appearance.

"Grampa" gave me brown mug made of crockery material. He told me that it was one of the few things that he possessed that had survived his emmigration from Rosenburg, Russia in 1912.

I have always treasured it and want my grandson, Chad to have it. "Grampa" wanted me to have it and he would be pleased to know I have passed it on to my grandson. "Grampa" died in 1971, so my grandchildren can only know him through my memories.

I would like to share some of the items I know, as well as, some of the things I wrote during our many story telling sessions. Later generations can learn what he was like from these things. It is the "passing on of memories" from one generation to the next that is most important to me.

The genealogical facts about Frederick Kuhlman are :
Born: 12 March 1883
Where: Rosenburg Omead, Russia
Parents: George and Lotta Kuhlman
Married: Anna Weber
Left Russia: 04 February 1912
Left Liverpool, England: 24 February 1912
Arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia: 04 March 1912
Arrived in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada: June 27, 1912
Arrived in Scottsbluff, Scotts Bluff Nebraska: September 1916
Died: 17 May 1971
Where: Bridgeport, Morrill, Nebraska
Buried: Scottsbluff Cemetery Scottsbluff, Scotts Bluff, Nebraska
Father of seven children: Catherine, Fred, Anna, Jacob, David, Mary, Esther

Some of the notes I wrote as "Grampa" reminisced are as follows.

He and his wife, Anna and baby daughter left Rosenburg, Russia and travelled by bus to a port. I don't know where that port was. "Grampa" called it Liebauer, but I couldn't find any city on the Atlas that looked like that name. From Liebauer the family took a "little ship" to Liverpool and this took 5 days and nights. Before they boarded the "little ship", they were told it was too full and they would have to wait for another ship. As they turned to walk away, someone shouted at them to hurry, if they could get on, there would be room for them. He said they ran as fast as they could. I can imagine the panic as the two desperate adults and little two year old Catherine ran for their lives. Anna was pregnant and I'm sure "Grampa" carried little Catherine. He told me that they had to leave their trunk and boxes on the dock in order to get on the "little ship". There was no way to gather them up and still run for the ship. These held all of the worldly possessions they had planned to take to the New World. How the brown mug survived this chaotic beginning I do not know, but "Grampa" told me it did, and I believe him. The last sight of their things was when "Grampa" looked back and saw them sitting on the dock. He said, "I'll bet they are still sitting there".

The Kuhlmans spent one night in Liverpool before boarding the "big ship". The "big ship" took them to Halifax, Nova Scotia and took nine days and nights to cross the Atlantic. In the beginning, "Grampa" told me that they landed in Philadelphia, and it seemed reasonable to me. Later, when "Grampa" gave me his passport and immigration papers, I discovered that they actually landed in Halifax. When I told him this he nodded in agreement. Unable to read, he had to go by sound, and it sounded like Philadelphia to him. We got it straightened out, later. From Halifax, they travelled by train to Winnipeg, Canada. From "Grampa's" immigration papers I learned that they boarded the ship, CANADA ,24 February 1912 sailing from Liverpool. His name appeared on the ship Manifest page 4 line 17. Anna was on line 18. They landed in Halifax, Nova Scotia on 04 March 1912. They had the proper vaccination, as attested by the Ship Surgeon E. L. Bartlett. The inspection card for Anna says that the last permanent residence was Holland. Perhaps this is where they boarded the "little" ship for Liverpool. It looks like they left Russia on 04 February 1912, but not being able to read Russian, I can't be sure. The dates are easy to read but I can't read the text.

Telling about his life in Russia, "Grampa", told me that he worked in Rosenburg for 7 cents a day, $45 a year. This was in a flour mill, carrying sacks of flour weighing 200 pounds. Alex Reisig owned the flour mill. Many times "Grampa" climbed the stairs to his home, after a long day at work, to find nothing to eat. His mother, Lotta Kuhlman died of starvation. After registering for the Army and being rejected he told his mother to give a Ruble at Church the next day! He was age 17 when he went to work at the flour mill and he stayed working there for four years.

It took four months to go from Rosenburg Omead, Russia to Winnipeg, Canada. He was in Canada for four years. In Winnipeg he worked for 20 cents a day, 10 hours a day. He worked digging the sewers in Winnipeg. I remember one story of how he and his brother tapped into the pipe that fed the beer into a saloon above. They had a GOOD time down there! He laughed as he told this story.

"Grampa" had five brothers. They were Henry, Jake, Carl, Philip, and David. Philip and David were twins.

The last time I saw "Grampa" was when I was called to Bridgeport by his daughter, Mary. "Grampa" had been living there for several years and she had taken him to the hospital. I hurried to get there to see him, and I went directly to the hospital in that little Western Nebraska town. It was a beautiful Spring day, but I was sad as I climbed the old wooden staircase to the porch of the hospital. I found "Grampa's" room and went in. It was late afternoon, and the sun was lazily streaming through the window of the hospital room. The hospital was very quiet, because I had arrived in between the regular visiting hours. He brightened up when I came in and he talked to me for some time. He was scared, and he asked me to take him home. It was the second time in our years of knowing each other that I had to refuse him. The other time was one morning about 5:00 am when he wanted me to call Mary and have her come right away and pick him up from our house in Gering, where he had spent the week. I had to get stern and refuse him and it was quite a shock to him. He was heartbroken, once again, when I told him in the hospital, that I couldn't take him home. He had to get better, I told him. He hung onto my hand as I prepared to leave the hospital room. When I went to Mary's after I left the hospital, she was surprised when I told her I had talked to "Grampa". She told me that he had been unconscience all day and had not known anyone that came into his room. A spiritual event had happened, as far as I am concerned. "Grampa" knew he was dying and he had to tell me goodbye. I will always cherish this last memory of my dear friend, Frederick Kuhlman.

This is about all that I recorded about Frederick Kuhlman. Like MOST people, I waited too long to write things down. Time is the one thing I have taken for granted, and as I have grown old, I now know how valuable it is. But memories are even MORE valuable, and these are what I want to share with Chad. Each generation is a "bridge" to the generations that have gone before. I can remember things about people that seem to be from a different world. Chad will be that "bridge" for the future generations, when he recalls things about me.

The wonder of it all is that the people of each generation are made for their time. "Grampa" was a tough individual, and he was made tough for the adversity that he had to face in coming to this country. I thank God that he DID come to this country and endured all of the hardships. I consider it a privilege to have known him, listened to him, shared memories with him.

Sharing these memories is my memorial to Frederick Kuhlman. I hope that future generations now know a little bit about him.

The Mulberry Street Peace Accord 2003 - A Fun Story

2011-02-27T12:10:00.004-07:00

Buster Johnson -- "How can this be happening? They bring another cat here to live? In all of my fifteen years it's the last thing I thought they would have the NERVE to try!"
Kitty Girl Johnston – "Three hours of riding in that blue cage, and crying all the way, and this is what I came to see? A huge gray tabby with a macho and mean disposition?"

Thus began the "Mulberry Street Peace Accord of 2003". The principals are two cats of very different temperaments and cultures, rather like the Arabs and the Jews, but not quite so stubborn, and two people in the middle, trying to act as peace negotiators. This is the story of our very interesting and enlightening experience.

After a grueling ride of three hours from Gering, Nebraska to Fort Collins, Colorado, we arrived to find Buster sleeping contentedly on his chair. Not concerned in the least, about anything, because he was pretty sure that things in his house would NEVER change. He has his two people trained and now that he is in his "golden years" he is enjoying retirement to the fullest. This was September 13, 2003 and this was the day we went to Gering to pick up Kitty Girl Johnston. Lee is going to be moving to the Veteran's Home soon and he can't take her with him, so we asked to take her into our home. We have known Kitty Girl for a little over a year, when she first appeared at 505 M Street and adopted my stepfather, Lee Johnston and my mother in June 2002.

Kitty Girl was in shock when I picked her up and stuffed her into our blue cat carrier. It was very unnerving to hear her cry so pathetically as we pulled out of Lee's driveway. Surely she would get tired and quiet down, right? Wrong! She cried mournfully all of the way from Gering to Fort Collins. We were both going crazy by the time we got home.

The strategy was well planned, let Buster out the west door and bring the cat carrier in the east door. Buster happily bounced out the door, totally unaware that his life and his home would never be the same. I put the cat carrier in the livingroom and slowly opened the door. Kitty Girl was quiet for the first time in three hours and came out of the carrier very cautiously. She looked around, spotted the cat food and sauntered over and had a snack. She looked at us as if to say, "This isn't too bad from what I can see right now."

Finally we had to face the music and let Buster back in. He came bouncing back in the house and suddenly stopped short — he couldn't believe his eyes — another cat in HIS house? This was a total surprise and he was having no part of being a gracious host. They spit and growled and hissed and both were in shock and disbelief.

We set up Kitty Girl's quarters in our bedroom and kept him out of there. She retreated under the bed and would not come out. We both went in periodically to try to pet her but she stayed in the center where she was beyond reach. She wanted to come out but was so afraid, she just couldn't do it. We kept the bedroom door shut so she would start to feel safe from Buster. During that first night I heard her come out and eat some of her food and use her litter box, then immediately back where she felt safe. Of course, Buster was feeling left out, sleeping on the couch, so I went out and laid on the couch for awhile to reassure him that he still was our BusterB. None of the four of us got much sleep that night.

Monday was Kitty Girl's first real day in her new home. She did brave it enough to come out from under the bed and eat. I fixed her a "Baby Blanket Bed" beside my side of the bed. The blanket was the one she used at her old home and we thought it would be somewhat of a comfort to her. It was a cozy little bed, and before long she discovered it and curled up in it when no one was in the bedroom. She also had a "Window Seat Bed" where she could look out the back window. So far she had not ventured out into the rest of the house. I did put a leash on her and took her out on the grass. She was absolutely terrified, so we came right back in. At this point I decided I wouldn't mind if she became an inside cat and never went outside. Buster was curious, but seemed to know that the bedroom was off limits to him. For fifteen years he slept on the bed with us, but now he was banned. It was a lot for him to try to understand.

Tuesday she became noticeably braver. She ventured out of the bedroom and came into the computer room long enough to "poop" in Buster's litter box, then she hightailed it back into the bedroom. She has her own litter box, but there seemed to be a special attraction to his, for this particular purpose. She gets us up at 5am sharp. She has her own way, by walking on us, even on our heads, purring as loud as a tank, and rubbing and butting us with her head. It is quite a ritual, and we aren't used to it. So we all have to learn new things around here. She is so lovable, it is hard to be stern with her.

Wednesday I fixed a bed on the couch called the "Trump Suite". It was named that because it became very valuable kitty property, sort of like Donald Trump's penthouse apartment at Jersey City, New Jersey. Buster would lay in it, and then when he went out, I would let her out of the bedroom and she would hop right up there until he came in. I would take her back to her bedroom and he would jump in. It was like they were playing King of the Mountain and the Trump Suite was the mountain. We had quite a few laughs just watching these two different personalities try to out maneuver each other. She can come out when he is outside then has to go back in where it is safe. We sure had hopes that things would get better and we could all be in the same room at the same time. I just didn't want him to attack her and scare her anymore than she already was.

Thursday was more of the same, but we were in hopes that we would be able to open the bedroom door during the day. She is getting very comfortable in her room. She loves the "window seat" and stares at the roses in back. Buster seems to be settling down, also, maybe we are making progress at last.

Friday morning I opened the bedroom door and Buster was sitting on the other side waiting for breakfast, and Kitty Girl was wanting to get out. They spotted each other through the crack in the door and there was a "saving face" sort of a maneuver, a little hissing and spitting, but not too lethal sounding. I felt encouraged by that. It is going to take quite a bit of patience to get through this "life changing experience".

By Sunday, we were able to leave the bedroom door open. Kitty Girl came sauntering out and Buster was in "Trump Suite", she spotted him and they stared for a long time. No one moved, not me, not John, not Kitty Girl, not Buster. We waited to see what would happen. This was the first time we were all in the same room at the same time. Our first real "family hour". Then Buster broke the trance and wanted out. He was careful to make sure his body language didn't evoke messages of retreat, rather that he was leaving the battlefield voluntarily, not in defeat. We have really come to appreciate the ego of cats. They certainly have big egos.

We felt the progress in a week was marvelous. Kitty Girl still hides under the bed when she is unsure of what is happening, but it is less and less. Buster has decided she is going to live here and the best he can do is ignore her – unless she gets too close. He definitely doesn't want any close contact with her. We have learned to watch their eyes, they tell all about the mood of the cat. The pupils especially are all telling. If the pupils are narrow and closed they are relaxed and feel at ease. If the pupils are wide open, they are assessing something quite seriously. I don't know who will win the battle of wits, but we felt that the first week had produced amazing results. We are hopeful that both camps are listening to the "terms" of the peace accord.

By the end of the second week Kitty Girl has been outside and investigated her property. She went all around the perimeter, smelling everything. She was memorizing the territory. She loves crawling under the rose bushes, the same ones she could only look out at a week ago. She knows where to come, to get back in, and I don't think there is any problem with her coming home. I don't think she goes very far. Buster didn't like seeing her outside on his property. He gets a little aggressive and tries to bully her from certain parts of the yard.

She sleeps in the bedroom with the door open at night. Buster even has gotten up on the bed, and Kitty Girl is only a few feet away in her "Baby Blanket Bed". That bed is ONLY for night time sleeping. There are plenty of other beds for daytime use. The "Trump Suite" the "Shaggy Bed" the "East Window Seat Bed" the "North Window Seat Bed" the "Computer Room Bed". Where do John and I live? In what ever space we can carve out of this very exclusive kitty resort.

The third week seems almost "normal". Kitty Girl goes outside and back in just fine, Buster seems to have come to terms with her. They both know their boundaries and what is going to be necessary to live in peace.

I admit, that when we started this negotiation, I was doubtful of the outcome. It certainly took a lot of patience and understanding to come as far as we have. It has been worth it though. We enjoy both of these cats so much. Kitty Girl is such a mellow and well tempered cat and BusterB is his usual macho self. It would be pretty dull around here without them.

I wonder if knowing of this experience could help the peace negotiations in the Middle East? No — on second thought we don't want to go there. We pray that someday those adversaries realize as successful a "Peace Accord" as we have accomplished on Mulberry Street.

Peace Accord Addendum

As we near the end of 2003, I want to update you on the progress that has been made so far. Buster and Kitty Girl are living side by side quite harmoniously. They eat with their dishes not more than six inches apart. On rare occasions they are both up on our bed at the same time, although Buster has proprietary rights for sleeping next to "mom". Kitty Girl isn't a mushy type girl anyway, so she doesn't mind. She is not one to be cuddled or made over unless it is of her choosing. They have "Twin Window Seats" in the livingroom now. When there was just one window seat, it became a divisive thing and was causing trouble, so we moved a bit of furniture and they each have a front row seat to the outside.

There are three areas that are a little touchy. One is the bathroom. For some reason our cats like to come in the bathroom when we humans are in there. For a long time it was a very touchy situation if both wanted in at the same time. It has become less of a problem as they have negotiated some sort of hierarchy about possession. Another is the front door. If one is outside and wants in, at the same time as the other one wants out, the "human door keeper" has to become the central figure so one can go left while the other one goes right. It works out all right once we all learned our proper "places". Of course, the last touchy place is our bedroom. This has been Buster's personal domain for over fifteen years, and sharing it is not in his plans. He barely lets US share it. Usually things are nice and calm, but once in awhile his mood changes and he simply won't let her in. That is all there is to it! She patiently waits until the mood passes and then does as she pleases about it after all.

Kitty Girl has been to the Dr. and survived it. She buried her head in my arms while he checked her out and gave her shots. Sort of like she was saying "I can't stand to watch!!" Of course she cried all the way over and all the way back, but it's only about a mile away, so not too hard to endure — not compared to three hours when we brought her to Colorado in September.

Buster is almost sixteen years old, so we know he won't be with us much longer. It does seem as if Kitty Girl has made him a bit more lively. We know they communicate, and wonder what they are saying. Not understanding "Cattish" we, as poor mortals, can only wonder. All in all, we have enjoyed our trip into the "mysterious world of the cat".

An Afternoon At Lyric Cinema --- Barney's Version

2011-02-19T17:08:00.005-07:00

Some days I just have to do something different. Today, Saturday, 19 February 2011 was one of those days. I had read a review of "Barney's Version" and decided today was a good day to walk over to Mountain Avenue to Lyric Cinema and see it. Going to Lyric Cinema is an adventure in itself and then to top it off with a good movie makes it a good day. Lyric Cinema is an "unusual" movie theater. It is also a cafe if you just want to eat. There are two movie theaters inside, 2 & 3. #2 was just finishing up a birthday party for some little kids when I got there so the crew was cleaning up from spilled popcorn and pop and trash. I guess it was a cartoon sort of birthday party. When you first walk in the theater part it takes a few moments to adjust your eyes. You immediately see two big sofas and a loveseat at the front of the long, deep narrow room and you wonder "Hmm what kind of theater is this anyway?" The regular theater seats are obviously recycled seats from old time theaters, but the neat thing is they rock like a rocking chair. Very nice, if you are the rocking chair type that is. I am, so I enjoy the seats very much.

Eventually the music starts and it is very pleasant, Simon & Garfunkel, some Harominca music, an old 1920's song and on and on with things that trigger memories, and if you are young and don't remember these tunes, it is just plain nice music. It definitely sets the mood for an escape from the everyday cares, which is what movies are all about anyway, right? Next the ads and the previews start. The people that work at Lyric Cinema each have a slide that jibes them and their personalities. One lady is at her best when "she is clearing the rain forest or hunting endangered species in Africa". The owners little kids show up as well with a plea to buy treats at the theater rather than bringing them in from outside -- "so the little ones don't starve". Another girl gave up her "Maori job of handcatching Whales to work at Lyric Cinema". These slides are funny and make the time go by as we wait for the movie to start. Lyric Cinema shows some pretty controversial movies and some foreign ones as well, so the previews are not the typical previews.

Finally the movie started. "Barney's Version". The story of a man's life and the comedies and errors within. Excellent acting in my opinion. It may never win an Oscar, but that is okay as it is a very good movie. It ended up being a beautiful love story and I thought, "I have lived my whole life waiting for someone to love me like that". But wait a minute -- didn't I actually have that? Sometimes we don't see the forest for the trees. When I am truly honest, I know I have had people that loved me like Barney loved Miriam. Love, like beauty, truly is in the eye of the beholder, right? It was a great movie, funny, sad, deep at times and very enjoyable.

Yes, this Saturday afternoon was a special day. I hope you had one as well. patj

The Kentucky Ancestors of Gerald Vuhr Craig - Where Did They Go?

2011-02-19T09:43:00.003-07:00

Left double click on the image to see it larger. My next project?? patj

John Storms of Grayson Co KY Did Not Marry Patsy Poole

2011-02-18T18:32:00.003-07:00

"At the time he married his third wife, April 8, 1816 in White County IL"

To show the power of the Internet, I found that this story has circulated and been repeated over and over again, that John Storms of Grayson Co Kentucky married a 3rd wife named Patsy Poole in White Co Illinois. I felt I needed to know if this story was true. After ordering and reading numerous microfilms I can finally put this theory to rest. Just a word of caution -- don't believe everything you read on the Internet

#1. I find in the White Co Index to Probate that Patsy Stum (wife of John Stum)is the only child of Thomas and Fanny Poole dated (Aug 1829)
#2. In Phillipstown Old Cemetery Phillips Twp White Co Illinois is buried John Stum died 18 Feb 1839 Age 56 and Martha Stum his wife died 6 Nov 1834 age 31. As you know Patsy is a nickname for Martha--- so this must be the Patsy Poole that so many think my John Storms married in 1816.
#3 The link to White Co Illinois may be thru my John Storms son Daniel who lived there.
#4 Hopefully this will clear up this misinformation that has been circulated and recirculated for years. A little actual research solved this puzzle.
#5 I am looking for actual proof that Margaret Storms Pryor Hart is the daughter of John Storms and Hannah Collard of Grayson Co KY. I sure would appreciate some clues about that. The above was posted by me on the Storms Rootsweb Message Board on 19 Dec 2010.

Me and My Dad – Gerald Vuhr Craig 1915-1999

2011-02-11T20:57:00.005-07:00

On February 26 my dad would have been age 96. Unbelievable that I can remember someone who would be nearly 100 years old this year. Because my dad was not in my life (on a regular basis) after I was about age 13, my memories are of him as a young man. As with most young girls, my dad was a special hero to me. He was not an overly affectionate man, but he was so handsome and so unique I couldn’t help adoring him – even if we had healthy debates and serious cribbage games when he came to visit.

You may wonder why my picture of him for this story is one of him as a young construction worker during WWII – and one of me in a housecoat. It is for two reasons. The one of him is the way I remember my dad, young, strong, energetic, handsome and rugged. The one of me is in Tillamook, Oregon in 1942 when we were living there on one of dad’s jobs. The housecoat is a blue chenille housecoat and my dad bought it for me when I had the measles. It is my proof that he loved me, even if he didn’t express it very often. Dad loved his cars too, so any pictures of me also showed the latest Craig car. This one was a beautiful Pontiac. I am his oldest child, and first children are always special. I have his eyes and that is also special, I call them “Craig eyes”. He had four other children, and he loved all of us, but I was the first and I was of his young years when he was not settled and wise, as he ended up in later years.

As I studied my dad’s family when I first started genealogy I learned why he was not overly affectionate. I gained knowledge that explained why he was usually somewhat removed from emotion. Sometimes it is dangerous to show that you need others. As I matured I figured out that people have all degrees of love. It isn’t dealt out as a flat rate quantity. Some have more than others. My dad loved me and my brother as much as he was capable of loving at that time. It may not have seemed to be enough to us, but it was all he had to give.

So on his 96th birthday I say “Happy Birthday Dad”. Thank you for having me and being in my life as much as you could be. I understand that you were human and had limitations, just like I do. I am proud to be your daughter and to carry on your genes through my descendants.

RILYA patj

Meet My Mom - Dorothy O Cary 1918-2003

2011-01-23T13:37:00.002-07:00

Lessons are a two way thing. There has to be a teacher and there has to be a student. Whether the student is willing or not, it doesn’t really matter. What greater influence is there in any of our lives as great as our mothers? No matter what species it is, mothers are destined to be teachers.

When I was around the age of twelve or so, I suddenly became aware of how wise my mother was. As a younger girl I hadn’t given it much thought, but, now I realized she always came through with the right answers and suggestions.

It was the closing of an era for me, the era of taking something for granted. I suppose that children assume that they are entitled to this wisdom from their mothers. As a matter of fact, it is barely thought of at all.

Being a typical kid, I didn’t ponder on this for very long, but it remained in the back of my mind, catalogued in the memory banks somewhere. When I was a young mother myself, at eighteen, I looked down at my baby daughter and remembered these thoughts. I wondered then if I would measure up. It seemed a monumental responsibility --- to be wise!

My mom made a smooth transition from being a wise mother to being a wise grandmother, and she made it look easy. What I wasn’t aware of is that I was learning from her – and believe it or not I was doing a pretty good job of being a mother. By the time my second baby daughter was born, I didn’t think about it very often. This seemed a natural job for me and it didn’t seem to take much conscience effort at all.

After all these years I think I have figured it out. I was blessed with a mother that had a special talent for using common sense. She didn’t panic when faced with a new problem. She calmly reasoned it out and proceeded from there. All of her answers and suggestions were based on one principle. She loved me! I know now that it’s very difficult to be wrong when love is guiding you.

When I was a little girl, when mom, David and I were alone, she faced some tough times. A young mother alone, raising two kids as best she could. The thing is, that a stronger memory remains for me. The security I felt was totally provided by my mom. She was so strong and wise that the feeling was transmitted some way to me and my brother.

I know she regretted that we had some hard times when we were little. What she didn’t know is that I wouldn’t trade those times for anything. I had a much greater gift than a room of my own, pretty clothes and lots of toys. I had the greatest gift of all – a mom that made sure that I was loved.

My mom would have been age 93 on January 29, 2011. I can’t tell her “Happy Birthday” in person, but I can share memories of her. It’s my gift to her, to never forget her. patj

A Visit from Many American Heroes

2011-01-20T12:35:00.003-07:00

Pat’s DAR Diary
18 January 2011

A Visit from MANY American Heroes – Friday’s Council Tree Meeting

We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect January afternoon than Tuesday January 18, 2011. Considering that a week ago it was so bitter cold a person barely wanted to venture outside, this was a marvelous day. There was bright sun, warm temps, and a wonderful welcoming aura inside the United Methodist Church in Windsor, Colorado.
45 people gathered together, (35 members and 10 guests) assembled here to hear Major General Stephen Abt, US Army.

What a privilege it was to hear the Major General speak to us. His presentation compared modern Soldiers with Soldiers of yesterday. How technologically savvy our young service people are and the challenges they face in adjusting to Army life. His message was an optimistic one about the future of our country and the young men and women that protect us.

Major General Abt also described his experiences in rebuilding the infrastructure of Iraq starting in 2006. How the government is considered a Democracy for now, but not a Democracy as we necessarily define it. That fragile as it may be, he feels that it will succeed and has great hope for the future there. Needless to say, the room listened very attentively to our distinguished guest. We gave him a standing ovation.

After the program was concluded, the chapter Regent asked all other veterans in the room to stand. Several spouses accompanied their DAR wives to the meeting today and it was wonderful to welcome them. It was moving to see so many men stand and we gave them a hearty round of applause. Another special guest was the Commander of Windsor’s American Legion Post Forbes-McKay Post 109. We enjoyed his report of what their post does for returning and older veterans in the area. Friday’s Council Tree Chapter will be partnering with the American Legion in a Memorial Day observance in May.

Of course, the usual DAR business was conducted and the Chapter voted for the Delegates and Alternates that will represent Friday’s Council Tree at the Colorado State Conference and at Continental Congress.

Thanks to one of our members for sharing the story of her patriot, Perrin Cardwell. This is one of the nicest features of our meetings. I love to hear their stories – and they are each a wonderful and different story. Need I tell you that I love our ancestors? Our little chapter has 105 different patriots. That is amazing for a chapter only 63 strong. That number is amazing as well, since we started with only 16 members two years ago. Am I prejudiced? Oh noooo.

Thanks to the hostesses for the wonderful table of refreshments. This is a big job and is greatly appreciated by all. patj

A Walk on the Wild Side

2011-01-11T21:06:00.007-07:00

Introductory Note
In the 1980’s I wrote articles for the HP Sportsman’s Club Newsletter. The Sportsman’s Club was open to all HP employees and since I worked with one of the ring leaders, I was constantly bombarded with talk of guns, hunting, trap shoots, etc, etc. I was one of the few female members of the Sportsman’s Club and eventually edited the newsletter. The location of the shooting range was south and west of Windsor, Colorado. High on a hill and up a rugged road, HP had purchased (or leased) the land for its gun toting employees to have trap shoots and other events. Now the whole area has developed into a ritzy neighborhood with ½ million dollar houses. I wonder if they ever find a few shell casings in their yards? At any rate, I wrote this story for one of the newsletters and it brings back pleasant memories so I wanted to share it with you. It is a “good old days” story.

A Walk on the Wild Side
Once in a while a person accidentally runs across an exceptionally nice experience and this one happened to me early in May. I would like to share it with you, so you can enjoy it too.

Now, what has walking to do with the Sportsman’s Club? Actually, nothing unless your sport is going for a nice long walk in a place that sets you back in time and gets you close to nature.

The place is the Northern Colorado Nature Center and its located in Fort Collins, as far east as you can go on Drake Road and then about ¼ mile north.

When I found it, it was early evening and the sun was seriously thinking about going to bed. My husband and I got out of the car “just to read the signs” and see what this place was all about. Then one thing led to another and before we knew it we were crossing the little suspension bridge over the Cache la Poudre River. At that point we were hooked, just as surely as a fish is hooked with a fat juicy worm.

There are several trails and we took the one that skirts the outer perimeter of the Nature Center. The folks that are in charge of the place have done an excellent job of marking with logs and piles of stones along the trail. Jim Bridger should have had it so good.

We walked along, thoroughly enjoying the wonder of a new place. Especially a place as naturally tranquil as this one. It’s like it must have always been along the river. Thick brush, tall, old Cottonwoods, Elms, and Maples. Yes ---- Maples in Colorado!

For a short way the trail becomes part of an old road bed. I imagined it must have been the remnants of the Overland Stage Road that followed the Cache la Poudre River to LaPorte in the middle 1800’s. A little south of the Center is the Strauss Cabin and the Overland Stage Road crossed the river there then traversed northwest. As I stood there, I could imagine the thundering sound of the stagecoaches interrupting the peacefulness of this area. However, I was also a witness to how nature perseveres and with a little help, a place like this survives.

As we walked along the river we saw signs of beaver, their readily identifiable gnawed marks on the pointed tree stumps. Some beautiful red breasted black birds performed for us. The last rays of the sun made their red breasts look iridescent as they flew overhead.

The trail led us around an old ranch. All there is now is the remains of some troughs and a loading chute covered with vines as nature reclaims her own territory.

As we completed our walk and the little suspension bridge was in sight, my husband stopped me and pointed at something. A Blue Heron was rising out of the water and skimming across it. As he became airborne he turned and with the background of the setting sun his silhouette was beautifully outlined. It was a perfect ending to a beautiful experience – at least we THOUGHT this was the end!

We crossed the bridge and headed for the parking lot, vowing to return with a picnic lunch someday soon. As we neared the car we noticed a fenced in area east of the picnic shelter. Being naturally nosey people we had to investigate. By this time it was almost dark, but there was just enough light to read the information on the sign – and then we looked beyond the sign to see a huge, beautiful Golden Eagle peering at us from a high man made perch. This was an injured Golden Eagle that will never fly again. He was luckily (or unluckily depending on your point of view about Eagles) rescued, mended at CSU and placed here in this make believe aerie. This was sort of a sad thought, but not entirely sad. I have never been that close to a Golden Eagle and I didn’t realize what an awesome bird they are. So even though he will never fly and be free again, he is a survivor, and is serving a purpose.

The Northern Colorado Nature Center is intended for educational tours for groups of school children grades K-6. However, it is open for “older” students too. For an enjoyable, easy to get to, respite from the everyday stress and strain – I recommend this place. patj

The John Gouldin Land!!

2011-01-09T22:10:00.005-07:00

Because the Kentucky Secretary of State website says McConnels Run runs thru Scott County and Fayette County Kentucky I think I have pinned down John Gouldin’s land location. I can see it on this map – if I have it figured correctly. I can pick out the North and South Forks of the Elkhorn. The main watercourse that comes thru Scott and Fayette Counties and empties into the North Fork is the one at the purple arrow.

The land description is "428 acres lying on McConnals Run, a branch of the North Fork of the Elkhorn emptying in on the North side thereof about 29 miles below Bryants Station". With Bryants Station being 5 miles northeast of Lexington this all fits. It’s probably as close as I will ever get to seeing this land that I just learned about.

The red arrow is Jessamine County Kentucky. This is where John Gouldin’s son, John Gouldin Jr married Sally Williams 5 January 1803. He had a son named – wouldn’t you know it -- John Gouldin. He had a daughter named Ruhama , she had a son named Abraham Windle, he had a son named John and he had a daughter named Hazel Belle and she had a daughter named Dorothy Olive Cary – my mother. My grandmother would be amazed at knowing this much about her ancestors. I am the one finding it and I am amazed!

I am sure I am close to solving the “John Gouldin Case”.

McConnels Run, North Fork of Elkhorn Creek, Kentucky

2011-01-09T19:59:00.006-07:00

I found these pix of McConnels Run on Google. I guess I haven't told you that Google is my new Internet hero. Its a wonderful way to find ANYTHING. At any rate, I love Kentucky land records. Their website, http://www.sos.ky.gov/land/ is a fantastic place to search for these records and also to learn the very complex science of Early Kentucky Land Records. The top picture is of a site on McConnels Run that may be a future archealogy project to figure out how our early Kentucky ancestors lived. The bottom picture is of how the area looks along the watercourse. When I find a location for one of my ancestors (in this case John Gouldin) I try to find an image of the area so I can imagine how it may have looked. McConnels Run is located in Scott County and Fayette County Kentucky. The world and the area have changed since John Goulden received his 428 acres in 1785 but the watercourse is forever. Rivers and watercourses are a fascinating thing to study. For a permanent record of our ancestors study the watercourses they lived near.

John Gouldin's land was located on "McConnels Run, a branch of the North Fork of the Elkhorn emptying in on the North side thereof about 29 miles below Bryants Station". Bryants Station was famous because of the Indian raid when the women of the Station bravely went to the spring for water and made it there and back safely. Mr Bryants wife was Daniel Boone's sister. Bryants Station was later destroyed but it was 5 miles northeast of Lexington Kentucky. Why do I care? Because I want to pinpoint John Gouldin's land and maybe figure out where I can find records about him. Also, because I love to study land records.

Oh how I wish I could just run to the Family History Library and check some microfilm and try to find more about John Gouldin, but I can order what I need and find them anyway. I have a feeling the Gouldins are going to be my 2011 project.

Wish me luck and stay tuned. patj

EggPlant? I Am So Sorry!

2011-01-07T07:51:00.008-07:00

Last summer I wrote about my experience with the vegetable "eggplant". I didn't have a very high regard for it then as my one and only encounter looked rather unappealing and tasteless. I spoke some rather disparaging words about the humble vegetable, that is quite pretty but that was about all I could say about it in a positive manner.

Shortly, one of my friends that reads this blog, stepped up in defense of eggplant and said "It's our favorite vegetable." She offered to invite me over for an eggplant dinner and prove what a delicious food it is. In December I travelled to her house to partake of eggplant as she prepares it --- and she was right --- it IS delicious. As I left their house that evening I said, "I owe eggplant a big apology."

So to eggplants everywhere I publicly say, "I'm sorry for being so mean spirited and critical of you. You really do have a nice flavor, if prepared correctly."

Am I planning on buying anymore eggplant for myself? Hmmmmm, not in the near future. I am afraid I don't have the culinary magic to transform it into something delicious. But I would love to come to YOUR house and try it again. (g) patj

The John Gouldin Case

2011-01-05T21:52:00.015-07:00

The following images tell the beginning of the story of John Gouldin and his land in Kentucky. The end of the story will be when I find where he came from in Virginia and when he died in Kentucky -- but this is good for starters. Without a "place" a genealogist is just searching and fishing. I HAVE to find the place he came from to find out more about him.
The first image tells me he received this Virginia Land Office Treasury Warrant on 15 October 1779 and he paid 200 pounds for 500 acres.

The second image tells me that on 10 May 1780 he assigned 72 acres to John Spindle for an undisclosed amount of money. This shows John Gouldin's signature and his math notes.

The third image tells me that on 19 June 1785, the Fayette Co Surveyor, Thomas Marshall surveyed the remaining 428 acres for John Goulden. This determined where his land would be. The County Surveyor was a very important man as he had to know the land to survey for the many men (and their families) immigrating into Kentucky from Virginia. Two other famous Surveyors were Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton. These men were usually the men that had arrived in the area far ahead of the settlers and had learned every nook and cranny of the new land. These men had photographic memories when it came to the land. This document also tells me that this land was on McConnals Run a branch of the North Fork of The Elkhorn that emptied into the Elkhorn 29 miles below Bryants Staton.

The fourth image shows the outside of the file for John Gouldin. This file was received at the land office in Virginia (Kentucky was part of Virginia until 1792)and a grant was issued by Virginia Lieutenant Governor, Beverly Randolph, Esq. on the 5th day of September 1787. This gave John Gouldin title to the land described in the above documents.

Why am I excited? Because I am sure I have found another generation back for my Goulden Family. I have studied them for years and have proven back to this man's son, also a John Goulden. I am sure I have it right because his son married Sally Williams in 1803 in Jessamine Co Kentucky. This land is near Jessamine County and with the counties being formed from Fayette County at a rapid pace, he may have been in present day Jessamine County. That is what I love about land records. It gives me a picture of a family in a certain place. I have plenty to do as I want to find out what happened to this land and when did John Goulden die and was he the man that served on the USS Rattletrap with Captain James Willing in 1778. My "ancestral connections" tell me he is, but since I live in a mortal world, I have to prove it.

I have more studying to do to pinpoint where this land was. Fortunately most of these geographic places are still called the same names,except Bryants Station of course, as it was destroyed. This is such a historical area and as I read about it I can feel the energy and violence these people experienced. I will be spending many hours to come pouring over atlases and maps. I started this project to find another Revolutionary Patriot, but that is secondary now as I just want to find John Goulden and solve his case.

Note the many spellings of John's last name. I have always used GOULDEN but it can be GOLDEN, GOULDIN, GOULDING, GOLDIN, etc, etc. Spelling was pretty much an inconvenience when it came to our ancestors names, it just gives us a greater challenge to find them.

Notice I mentioned Fayette County Kentucky in this article. It would seem easy then to find records in Fayette Co Kentucky for John Gouldin. But not so easy when I remember that at the time he received his land the County of Kentucky in Virginia (the entire present State of Kentucky)had been split into three counties. Jefferson, Lincoln and Fayette. Kentucky now has 120 counties and they all came from these three original counties. One of the interesting things about genealogy is that you learn history and geography as you research your ancestors. Maybe that is why I am addicted to it.

Until later, patj

Pleasant Valley In Summer & Winter

2011-01-04T16:22:00.003-07:00

The picture I use at the start of my blog is from one of my favorite places in Larimer County. I decided to change it with the seasons, so this is the summer version that you have all seen for some time and, at the top is the winter version. Both taken from the top of Bingham Hill. It looks down toward Bellvue and in the distance is the start of Rist Canyon. The closest town is LaPorte, Colorado and it is older than Fort Collins. Hidden behind the hill is the Cache la Poudre River and this is where the French trappers settled to do their lucrative trapping. To the left, down the hill is the place where the Frenchmen cached their gunpowder to keep it safe while they worked, thus the name Cache la Poudre. Don't you agree that I live in a beautiful place? I never dreamed, in 1988 when John and I moved to Fort Collins, that this would finally be the place I call home. I may not always live here as that is a temporary illusion and many things determine that, but this is where I will imagine when I say home, no matter where I may live. I will change the version of Pleasant Valley again in the Spring and Summer and Fall. Stay tuned and come visit if the opportunity ever presents itself. patj

Three Great Grandsons --- It Doesn't Get Any Better Than This

2011-01-03T20:19:00.009-07:00

One Last Word For 2010

2010-12-24T10:06:00.004-07:00

           I had to have one last word before signing off for 2010. I received this special card from a friend I have never met. She and I became acquainted when she was living in Avon, Connecticut and I was asking for help there. She found a lot of material for me and we became friends. Now she lives in Brooklyn, New York with her husband and cats.  The McQuade Christmas card is a delight to receive as it is aways one of a kind.

           This year it was special -- especially after yesterday, when I took Kitty Girl to "boarding school". The place was filled to the brim with cats being cared for over the Christmas week as their human servants went off to enjoy the holiday. I peeked into the cages as the cat sitter put Kitty Girl in her condo. There were cats of all sizes, breeds, colors and personalities ---- but one thing in common ---- none wanted to be there!! All were voicing their protest at the same time and it sounded like a choir of meowing. It was a very loud chorus, almost ear deafening. I would love to have been able to sneak back and see what it was like after the humans left. Did they finally quiet down? If not, Kitty Girl was not going to have a very restful night.

            I'll never know, but I am sure I will hear the story in "cattish" when she gets home. She will have good care, even though she may say otherwise and I figure she is on vacation the other 360 days, so this is her work schedule. Not a bad job, I would say.

            Happy New Year to everyone, patj

Another Great Year -- 2010 -- More To Come In 2011

2010-12-18T20:37:00.007-07:00

Merry Christmas from Fort Collins, Colorado. As 2010 winds down it is time for me and KittyGirl to say goodbye to a good year. It has been an interesting and busy one. So many nice things have happened to us. With a trip to Salt Lake City in July and visiting family, to speaking engagements, to taping a TV show, to enjoying our new home, and new neighbors, it has been very good. Of course, all KittyGirl needs is to have a warm place to nap, lots of soft beds to lay in, and plenty of gourmet cat food. I, on the other hand, need a bit more outside contact.

I have met so many new people where I live. Getting more involved with the Larimer County Genealogical Society opened up many new friendships as well, and Friday's Council Tree Chapter, DAR is growing by leaps and bounds so I have many new friends from that. One of the most interesting projects was the taping of a local TV show about Genealogy. And of course, the best of all was my new great grandson, Oliver James Lewis arriving in November. Another twig on the Family Tree. And that is what life is all about to me.

Finding my new musical favorite ranks right up there for blessings. Israel Kamakawiwo'ole has such a fabulous voice. He is called "Iz" because no one can easily pronounce his last name. I listen to him every day. If you Google "Israel" Hawaii you will find audios of him. I hope I can take my CD of him with me to SLC otherwise I may have withdrawal pains from not hearing him for a week. Hey wait a minute -- I am taking my netbook and I have an external CD player for it -- problem solved! Iz lives in good company with my other favorites, The Beatles, Neil Diamond, and Cat Stevens, oh yes, throw Hank Snow in there as well. And I received a beautiful ukele for Christmas so I will be playing with Iz before you know it.

I am so grateful for the place I live. The Plaza, Old Town, Fort Collins, Colorado ---- it is a privilege to live here. This has been a definite adventure -- learning to live in an "almost" dormitory atmosphere. Its fun.

I am so lucky to have a chance to go to Salt Lake City again the day after Christmas. Four more days at the Family History Library. The place is a genealogist's dream and I plan to make every minute count. I would really have to move there to get everything done on my list. I plan to concentrate on John Goulden (of USS Rattletrap fame) and Rowley Marders, an ancestor I know very little about but hope that changes soon. And then there are many others waiting in the wings. Of course, I hope to add to my collection of American Revolutionary Patriot ancestors. Twenty nine is just not enough.

Upcoming events are several presentations. At the Family History Center on January 6, the Larimer County Genealogical Society on February 17, the Cheyenne Geneaolgical Society on March 8. After that who knows what may happen? Needless to say, I enjoy giving genealogical presentations.

I hope to have time to write some stories this year as well. So I wish for you, all of the good things you need to have a great year. Actually, a good year to me is good health, both physical and mental, good friends, just enough prosperity, and a positive outlook. Goodbye 2010 and welcome 2011!! patj

A Real Blossom Of Lights - Denver Botanical Gardens

2010-12-07T23:27:00.003-07:00

What a delightful experience December 7, 2010 was. The flags flying at half mast for Pearl Harbor Day made this a sepcial day as I remembered where I was on December 7, 1941. This was also the day I went to Denver for the Blossoms of Lights Tour at the Denver Botanical Gardens. It was two months ago that my friend, Diane, and I signed up for the tour offered by the Aspen Club in Fort Colllins.

Finally the day arrived and it dawned gray, cold and overcast. But by the time I drove to the pick up point the day was sunny and bright --- still cold but nice. The crowd for the tour was so big the Aspen Club had to hire a second bus. The buses were huge and very luxurious. It was such a pleasure to sit back and let the driver take all the risks and handle the traffic worries. Barb, the manager at Cloverleaf was in the seat behind me and we had a chance to catch up on what has been happening there since I moved a year ago. We stopped at Loveland and picked up the passengers from the Loveland area and were finally on our way to Denver. The bus was full of people of all ages and descriptions and we were all busy visiting and chatting while the driver headed to our first destination, The White Fence Farm. We arrived in the thick of Denver rush hour traffic and I esecially appreciated the bus driver's composure.

We pulled into the White Fence Farm parking lot and filed into the restaurant and found our tables. The restaurant was beautifully decorated and the grounds were as well. It is on Jewell Street between Sheridan and Wadsworth. The meal was served family style and featured their specialty, fried chicken. Of course, being a vegetarian I just ate the side dishes and I was impressed with how delicious they were. It was topped off with a big hot fudge sundae. We visited with the ladies sitting next to us and for a brief moment they were in our lives. I was stuffed by the time we boarded the bus for the last part of our trip.

By then it was dark and it was sight to see Denver all aglow. As we traveled east through the downtown area it was neat to see the apartment houses decorated and small houses in downtown lit up. The town had a festive air to it. But that was nothing compared to the sights at the Denver Botanical Gardens. It was a virtual wonderland with trees all lit in various colors and the walk ways and walls decorated with giant snowflakes and other beautiful things. The crowd was a mix of young and old and all ages in between. It was bitter cold and I was thankful there was no wind as that would have been miserable. We went to the inside entrance and warmed up then headed for the bus where it was nice and warm. Finally we were all boarded and ready to depart for home.

But to me, the best was yet to come as the bus driver took a scenic route down Colfax passed the Capitol and the Denver County & City Building. The Capitol wasn't decorated but it was lit and the Co & City Building was decorated beautifully. He pulled over and sat there for a few minutes so we could enjoy the lights. Then he headed for I-25 and north to Fort Collins. What a beautiful city Denver is, especially at Christmas time. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride and was able to look around which I can't do when I am driving. I have to say it was a trip to remember as it was all so beautiful. What a blessed people we are to live in a wonderful counry like America!! May we always be so blessed.

An Unusual Combo -- The Mormon Taberbnacle Choir and the USS Rattletrap

2010-12-03T22:01:00.000-07:00

I have been concentrating on finding my American Revolutionary Patriot #30. Mathias Morton was #29 and that is not a number to keep forever. I just don't like the sound of it. On Thursday December 2, 2010 I suddenly found #30! I had copied a list from a book in Cheyenne about a John Gouldin being a Virginia soldier of the American Revolution. For many years I researched the Goulden family and have documented back to a John Goulden born about 1775 in Virginia. I always felt his father would lead to another patriot -- but I had no idea what his name may be or where he was from in Virginia. However, I have learned that if I don't copy a find -- I will never find it again so I copy everything!! That's why I have a vested interest in the paper companies. The list I copied had a source listed and since I am going to SLC soon I decided to see if I could track down that source and possibly find it there. Yes, I tracked down the source and sure enough SLC has it, but in addition to this I learned what this John Gouldin did in the American Revolution. He was a MARINE in 1778 and sailed down the Ohio River to the Mississippi River to New Orleans on the ship the USS Rattletrap. The Marines were founded in 1775 and disbanded 1783 but then reinstituted later in our history. But one thing for sure, these First Marines were definitely roughnecks el primo. They were a force to be dealt with and raised havoc all the way south to New Orleans. I still have to prove he had a son named John born about 1775 -- but I know in my heart that he is my Marine. However, I had to stop finding info about him and get ready to go to the Larimer County Genealogical Society Christmas Dinner at 4:30. So John Gouldin was able to rest as I had to leave him alone for awhile.

I traveled south to Loveland and the Dinner was a very enjoyable evening and there were many friends to visit with and the dinner was delicious. Then the program began. It was a DVD made in Salt Lake City at the NGS Conference last summer. We were treated to a feature about the Granite Mountain where the millions of rolls of microfilm are stored for safety and duration. That is an amazing place. I would love to work there. Next were interviews about what genealogy means to people and two told their stories. They were very moving stories. The one I liked best was about the lady that wrote "The Battle Hymn of the Republic". Her great great great grandson told her story -- then the Momon Tabernacle Choir began to sing the song and it was breathtakingly beautiful. The room was quiet as we sat entranced by the beautiful sound. I suddenly thought about the fact that I was probably the only Mormon in the room and I was filled with an almost sinful pride.

What an unusual mix of things happened today that made it a very special day for me. I feel blessed beyond words for my life and all the folks I know and love -- and of course, my ancestors and ancestresses. patj

Over Three Hundred Years Of The Name Oliver

2010-11-23T00:21:00.002-07:00

Oliver James Lewis was born November 15, 2010. He carrries a very proud name and I really am pleased to tell the history of it in my family. Oliver is my great grandson #3.

His great great grandmother, Dorothy Olive Cary (my mother) born 29 Jan 1918 and died 14 Mar 2003
Next is her grandmother, Olive May Sanford born 17 May 1873 died 2 Jun 1917
Next is her grandfather, William Oliver Sanford born 21 Jul 1822 died 22 Jun 1914
Next is his great grandfather, Oliver Teall born 10 Feb 1723 died 1807
Next is his father, Oliver Teall born 19 Jul 1699 died 1780

It seems every three generation or so an Oliver is born in my family. I wish a wonderful life for the newest Oliver in my FamilyTree. As I said above, he carries a very proud name for such a little fellow. I wouldn't be surprised if there is rejoicing going on somewhere at an "Oliver Reunion".

patj

A Chance Passing 19 November 2010

2010-11-19T14:29:00.004-07:00

Today illustrates what Richard Bach says in "Illusions". Sometimes people are drawn into our space for just a few moments and then they move on. While waiting for my truck to be repaired today I decide to walk to the Post Office and get my mail. The day was sunny, brisk and beautiful. A perfect "walking" day. As I left the Post Office I decided to not follow the regular way home but cut across back yards and alleys and the back lot of the 1st National Bank.

As I cut thru the bank lot and I was getting ready to cross Mason Street I saw a pile of clothing on the lawn a few feet away from where I was crossing. I stopped and wondered if someone had thrown their coat and backpack away -- or thrown someone else's coat and backpack away.

As I stood there I saw that it was a man laying on the grass, totally out to the World. About that time a young lady walked along the sidewalk and we started talking and both wondered if he was asleep, or worse, was he dead? After standing there a few minuites she asked if we should call for help for him. I have a cellphone -- but why I don't know, as I never have it with me when I need it. She had hers and called 911. After a long conversation with the dispatcher she said they were sending help. Another young lady and her little white poodle came walking along and stopped to see what was going on.

Meanwhile this fellow was sleeping like a baby in the midst of strangers standing there staring at him, talking to him and trying to wake him up. If only the majority of folks could sleep that soundly they would be extremely grateful. I have the feeling that the young lady with the poodle was possibly homeless herself, but she was friendly and interested in helping the man. She was a nice young lady. She thanked the cell phone lady for helping a stranger.

We all waited until help arrived and it was just a few minutes before the fire truck and ambulance were there. They were trying to wake him when I decided to move on and continue home.

We all three bid each other goodbye. We will never see each other OR the homeless man again, but for a brief few minutes we shared our space with each other. It was a beautiful day and the incident just added to the fact that we are all in this thing together. This thing called LIFE.

PS- The picture above is not the actual man. Thanks to Google I can find an image of ANYTHING and put it on my blog. patj

A Dozen Things To Do -- But Not Today

2010-10-30T18:23:00.125-06:00

I knew the moment I woke up this morning this was not an ordinary day. It was just too beautiful to be ordinary. A cold front is coming in perhaps tomorrow, but today was perfect. I looked at my table with several projects scattered on it and I knew I should be getting to work -- but not today. I have three DAR apps waiting for attention; my lesson/program for Thursday night at the FHC waiting for attention; my script for ComCast TV in November waiting for attention. But I told myself I have lots of time to do those things and a day like this will not always be at my beckon call. So doing what any self respecting retiree would do -- I chose to not do any of my chores. I decided to head for Loveland today. I like to go there and drive by places I lived and worked a long time ago. Its a nice town and it brings back good memories. As I was driving south on Highway 287 I saw several Harleys out and thought back to the years when we were lucky to have a beautiful fall and rode well into November. One winter we made a promise to ride at least once each month -- and we did it although some of those days were pretty bitter cold.

All of a sudden I decided to go out to Hawg Wild. Hawg Wild is a Harley shop south of Loveland and John and I didn't go there much the last 15 years or so. We didn't have our Harleys anymore and John didn't feel so social in those last years. But today, I wanted to go and see who was still there. Seeing the Harleys on the road made me homesick for a Harley shop. A real Harley shop that is. I like the kind that are dark, greasy, messy, crowded and full of Harley aura. There are glitzy ones these days for the upper crust in the Harley world but the real ones are for me.

I parked my truck and went in the side door. Ed was talking to a couple of fellows about their Harleys. I patiently stood there waiting till they were done. They all three looked at me sort off quizzically. I could see Ed trying to dig out of his memory why he should know me. I was looking him over as well --because like all of us he has aged and his beard has gray in it now. When I first met him in 1983 he was a young single guy and he was a giant, just as his brothers are as well. Well over 6 feet tall and strong husky guys. As soon as the other fellows moved on I held out my hand to shake his and told him who I was. His face broke out in a big smile and he was glad to see me, I could tell. I told him about John's passing and we began talking about old times.

Oh my gosh, we both remembered different things that had happened years ago. Like the trip up Thompson Canyon with all of us on our Harleys going to a Harley wedding in the mountains. When John and I would help at his Swap Meets selling Harley parts, all of the various Harleys we bought and traded and sold, and so many memories. Many other things from so long ago. It was a fun few minutes with Ed. I think he enjoyed it as well. He asked me if I still ride and I said "No." I told him I tried to get on Harley a few years ago but my legs aren't limber enough anymore to climb up that high. Not like the years when I didn't think a thing of throwing my leg over my Harley. I can't do it anymore. But as I was leaving he said, "Come back next spring and I'll take you in my sidecar." Hmmmm, don't you know I am going to take him up on it?

Anyway, it was a neat afternoon for me. Years ago he had written a story about John and his 1951 PanHead. Ed used to publish a little magazine and mail it to his customers. I kept that one and they are pictured here. It is the December 1984 issue and if you enlarge it by clicking on the image you can read his words. Actually, no one ever knew until now that the PanHead belonged to me, not John. I fell in love with it in Boulder and bought it on the spot. I had a good job and buying a Harley was a piece of cake. Trouble was it was a kick starter and it scared the bejeebers out of me, so I never started it myself and never rode it. But John sure did enjoy us having it. He had learned to ride on a "kick starter" (that's all Harley made until much later) so it was second nature to him.

Yes, it turned out to be an extra ordinary day for me. I hope it did for you as well.

Camp Dodge Iowa Patriots of 1918!! Amazing!!

2010-10-29T21:42:00.001-06:00

I received this picture taken in 1918 at Camp Dodge Iowa. The Statue of Liberty is made up of 18,000 soldiers. If you look at the base you can see the soldiers legs and from there up its men arranged to form the statue. I found it so amazing I had to share it with you. Click on the picture to see it enlarged. I love it. Enjoy, patj

What Makes A Great Day??? Try October 20, 2010

2010-10-22T22:25:00.001-06:00

What can make a day great or just ho-hum? For me it is a mixed bag of things. This day started off with sending DAR applications to Washington, DC. That's always a good thing for a DAR Registrar!

Next I received an email from Washington, DC informing me that my 29th DAR Patriotic Ancestor has been verifed. That news is greater than great. This man is Mathias Morton and he has been waiting for verification since March 2009. Many things have transpired since then and finding more data about his granddaughter, Hannah Morton has been an obsession that has finally paid off when the supplemental was verified today. Hannah Morton was almost unknown --- but now she IS known and that's the pleasure I get from the work for her. Hannah was young when her parents died. I have not found her mother's name yet, but finally found her father -- and his father is Mathias Morton, thus another patriot for me. If you know me very well you know that I collect patriot ancestors instead of salt and pepper shakers.

Next, the beauty of the day and where I am blessed to live seemed to really hit home today. Our fall weather is unbelievable! It has been extremely mild, and so the leaves are still on the trees and just now being to turn gold, red, yellow and finally falling. I grabbed my camera and took my annual "flag picture". Last year it was from John's room in the nursing home, this year it is from the north side of DMA Plaza on Olive Street. The log cabin on the left is that of Antoine Janis. Antoine was the first white man to settle in the LaPorte Colorado area. His cabin is what I see from my bedroom window at the Plaza.

The leaves in Fort Collins this year are absolutely the prettiest I have ever seen. With no wind to make them fall they are hanging on the trees extra long. As I drive down Remington Street it is magical and the leaves are so golden I feel like I am driving thru an arcade of bright yellow and gold neon lights, all compliments of Mother Nature.

Yes, this was a grand and extra special day for me.

But the icing on the cake was when I received a call from the office at DMA Plaza and was offered an "assigned parking spot"!! The usual routine for parking around here is a bit like "Parking Place Bingo". Having an "assigned parking spot" definitely moves a person into a higher level of the unwritten heirarchy. I didn't really hold my breath for this day, because I said, "I have feet, I can walk just fine." But did I accept the offer? Absolutely, because as part of the human species, I like thinking I am special. The only down side of the "assigned parking spot" perk is that it means someone didn't need it any longer. I only wish for you a Great Day like I had on October 20, 2010.

Stay tuned for my next effort about "Characters". I think you will enjoy it. patj

Isreal Kamakawiwo'ole And Over The Rainbow

2010-09-25T20:25:00.008-06:00

I think the rainbow pix are pretty and the hand sign is how IZ is known. But to explain further -- last week I was coming home late one evening and for some reason turned on the truck radio. I seldom ever turn it on as I don't care for distractions while I am driving. I couldn't believe my ears as the most beautiful song started to play. So simple, so peaceful, so beautiful. The ukulele and the man's voice was spellbinding. I had been in a sad mood that evening, but I immediately started to smile. I couldn't help it, it was mandatory!! It was as if God was giving me a big hug and saying "No matter how sad you may be, you can't change things that have happened, so stop it!"

I started singing along to the song, an old favorite, "Over The Rainbow" that reminds me of my childhood when Judy Garland sang it. Fortunately the announcer said the artist's name, but all I could catch was "Israel". When I got home I immediately went to Google and searched for "Israel" and "Hawaii". I found his name, then went to Amazon.com and ordered a CD that had the song "Over The Rainbow". Obviously not many people can pronounce his last name, so he is known as Brudda IZ.

Waiting for the CD was agonizingly long, so I opened my netbook and with WiFi I could listen to some videos of Brudda IZ. Finally on Friday I received my CD from Amazon.com and it has been playing ever since. I have been listening when I am home and I take my boombox with me and play the CD in the truck as well.

This afternoon I went to one of John's favorite places, and I took IZ with me. It was one year ago today that John died and I wanted to do something I knew he would have liked. On our afternoon rides we would sometimes go to the town of Pierce. It is a little, old fashioned, quiet town on Highway 85 between Ault and Nunn. It has a park that we would sit in and enjoy a treat of some kind. The streets aren't paved and there are no sidewalks in most of the town. A lot like the towns we both grew up in during the 40's and 50's. Its a step back in time. I haven't been over there since John died but decided today to go there.

I sat at our favorite picnic table and listened to IZ and it felt good to be in a favorite familiar place again. I couldn't help but look up at the sky and say "Hello friend, where are you flying today? Have you been Over The Rainbow lately?"

So the rainbow pictures are from Hawaii and the IZ hand sign is from Pierce,
Colorado. I think that's a powerful combination, don't you? Until later, patj

Genealogy --- Its Fun!!

2010-09-15T21:04:00.006-06:00

With a new great grandson arriving in November 2010 I felt the need to provide some genealogy for him. When I was visiting Chad & Zoe in July in Salt Lake City, I offered to see what I could do to find Zoe's ancestors. Zoe said yes, she would be happy to have me do that. So we engaged a dialog that she had with her families and relayed to me to do some research. I started toward the last of July and it became an obsession to find more and more. By the middle of August I had pretty much completed Zoe's book.

It was fun to study the Italian immigrants and Polish immigrants that make up most of Zoe's ancestry. As I found them in the censuses in the larger cities where they settled, I could feel the atmosphere that these folks lived and worked in. The large families with multi generational members living together or near each other. I could almost smell the dishes being cooked and the heavy spices and garlic and onion. I could imagine the hard working men returning at night to a family filled with lots of children and parents and brothers and sisters. There surely was a bit of volatile emotion involved in these families. Of course, it was fun to find her colonial and Canadian ancestors as well. I found a Loyalist ancestor and a Revolutionary Patriot ancestor. So many stories are untold about these families, but now Zoe has a bit more of a picture of her ancestors. It is a gift of knowledge, not only for her but for Oliver James Lewis as well.

Because I had finished Zoe's book and I was a virtual hostage for a weekend, of New West Fest in Fort Collins, Colorado, I decided to do a book for Katie as well. After all, Grant Christopher Lewis needs a genealogy gift too. His older brother, Jack, got the Mayflower book when he was born but Grant hadn't received any genealogy yet.

I must explain that where I live is Old Town, Fort Collins and New West Fest takes over Old Town during the 3rd weekend in August. If you move your vehicle from the parking lot you may have to park several blocks away so it is best to just stay home. A perfect set up to do genealogy for hours and hours and hours. No guilt trip here at all (g)

I had received some family information from Katie several years ago and I had enough to be dangerous. What fun to find new names and people that weren't adverse to being found. Not like my own ancestors that play all sorts of hide and seek games with me. These folks were taken by surprise and co-operated beautifully. It wasn't long before I had her ancestors back 10 generations. I found three Revolutionary Patriot ancestors as well.

I finished the books in time to give them to the girls on Labor Day when all were at Don & Cindy's for a family reunion/baby shower. I really missed the books as they had sat on my table for a good deal of time and they were old friends. These are footprints of people gone now. But they are not forgotten as long as we learn about them and remember them.

So now I am back to my own ancestors which never tire of playing hide and seek with me and I never tire of finding them. patj

Friday’s Council Tree, NSDAR Annual Picnic 11 September 2010

2010-09-12T11:52:00.004-06:00

A beautiful, perfect, wonderful September afternoon found 31 members and friends of Friday’s Council Tree Chapter gathered at Main Park in Windsor, Colorado. This was our annual family picnic and one of our favorite events. Last year was a bit less desirable as far as weather was concerned, but this year was absolutely gorgeous.

It was so wonderful to see the HODARS, Folsom Society C.A.R. children , prospective members, members and of course, our special guest, Domi Jones. The food was so good, but then we always knew we have the best cooks in the World. How we always end up with a perfect mix of dishes is a wonder to me. Everyone brings what sounds good to them and it all fits perfectly. Eva Sue Littleton did a fabulous job of organizing and arranging the food and providing the transportation for Domi.

After we ate, Eva Sue introduced Domi Jones (pictured above). She is the great great granddaughter of our namesake, Chief Friday. Domi shared the story of Chief Friday and gave us a personal picture of her ancestor and her people, the Arapahoe. She is a wonderful representative of her ancestor, Chief Friday, and we all know how handsome he was because we can see the sculpture of him at Horsetooth & Shields in Fort Collins. When asked how long Friday was away from his people and how did he find them later as a young man, Domi explained that Friday had a scar on his back from a bear that had struck him as a very little boy. When his mother saw that scar after he was grown and returned to Colorado, she immediately recognized her son, thus a happy family reunion. Domi is an excellent storyteller and we were all entranced with her program.

A special treat was when Domi shared how she begins each day with an Indian Prayer of thanksgiving that is said as she faces the six directions. As we all stood and faced the six directions, and read the words, Domi sang in her native language. Needless to say it was a moving experience. The six directions are North, South, East, West, Earth and Heaven. Before we left I asked Domi if we could all be members of the Arapahoe family and she said she would be honored.

Iva Zajicek was the lucky recipient of the drawing Lyn Rubenthaler arranged for the members that had paid their dues by September 1. The prize was a beautiful, patriotic, handmade tote bag.

We also found out at the picnic that the “Then And Now” float in the Harvest Festival Parade won 2nd place! That was exciting news, especially since it was our first attempt at a float OR a parade.

It couldn’t have been a better day. What a great way to kickoff our new DAR year. To the members that missed it, it was great!

The Windsor Colorado Harvest Festival Parade 2010

2010-09-06T19:24:00.005-06:00

Windsor Harvest Festival Parade 2010

The morning was cool, blue skies, and ---- WINDY. 30 “members and friends” of Friday’s Council Tree Chapter, NSDAR gathered at the east end of Walnut Street in Windsor, Colorado to await the beginning of the 2010 Harvest Festival Parade.
Dave & Lyn Rubenthaler, Pat Johnson, and Carolyn Goodwin met earlier at Cathy & Lawrence England’s house to hook up the float (to Dave’s beautiful 1949 Chevy pickup) and make sure we had all of our decorations, signs, baskets of candy, flags and pencils etc ready and loaded on the trailer for the trip to the start up point (in the upper right hand corner of the map). One by one the others arrived to get ready to sit on the float. Many of the ladies and all of the children were in colonial costumes and were a fantastic sight.

As with any parade, the start was delayed for a time, in this case about ½ hour so it was 9:30 before we started moving. Finally we began to move and the excitement started. As we neared the area where the spectators were sitting the spirit of the day kicked in, we all started to feel the welcome of the crowd and we started waving.

Our “walking crew” worked wonders as they passed out the candy, pencils and little American flags. The “float crew” worked wonders by smiling, waving and trying to hang onto the signs in the wind. I did mention the wind didn’t I? Oh my goodness, it was a healthy Northern Colorado wind, we are close to Wyoming after all. Yesterday it was a really hot day and today was a 180 degree change. But we didn’t lose a sign, a hat, a friend or a child so we were victorious.

1.6 (more or less) miles later we turned into Eastman Park (the green star at the lower left hand corner of the map). We had run the gauntlet so to speak. It was fun and a great feeling as we proudly flew our 1776 flag and our 50 star flag at the head of the float. Karen Hancock portrayed Betsy Ross sewing a gigantic, sparkling flag and she did a great job. As we passed the judges the children that were walking curtsied and bowed and we all turned our smiles on big time.

Members that participated were: Carolyn Goodwin, Sally Weidlich, Eva Sue Littleton, Martha Rehm, Donna John, Linda Schell, Karen Hancock, Tyler Hancock, Marge Abrames, Lyn Rubenthaler, Cathy England, Michelle Hollman, Vicki Carroll, Melissa Chew and Pat Johnson.

Friends of Friday’s Council Tree Chapter that helped were: Dave Rubenthaler, Lawrence England, Brian Carroll, Crissy Carroll, Kathy & Kelly Heifner and Megan Race. A special mention of thanks goes to prospective member, Phyllis Chatterton, who did so much to make the float look professional with the beautiful letters on the signs that were real eye catchers.

Children that helped were: Aiden Race, Maddie and Brady Carroll, Ella Perkins, Raquel Beam, Haley Race, Rebecca Rehm, and Anna Rehm.

It was interesting that as the “walking team” was passing out items, many of the kids were reaching for and asking for the American flags!! That tells us something great about the next generation, doesn’t it? We passed out 1008 American flags, 312 patriotic pencils and untold pieces of candy.

It was a good day to be an American and to be a DAR member. My favorite part? When veterans in the crowd “uncovered” as we passed as a token of respect for our flag and our American Revolutionary Patriots – the very first American Veterans! It made the great effort worth it and reinforces to me that America is the best country in the World.

Remembering August 1983

2010-08-28T19:59:00.005-06:00

Because I am thinking a lot about an upcoming "date with memories", I need to write to express what that means to me. 27 years ago (shortly after July 4) I met a very unusual man named John E Johnson. I was in a good place at that time. I had a great job with a great company. I was single and enjoying it very much. I was buying a mobile home in Berthoud, Colorado. I felt really good about myself. I had no reason to go looking for a permanent relationship. But then I met John and for a short time just played with the idea of a relationship of any kind -- sort of like a beginner plays with dynamite to see what it does.

We had a good time talking, walking, philosophizing, becoming friends, etc etc etc. You get the picture. Then one evening he called and said he was coming over to Berthoud to see me. I didn't think that was anything that monumental -- until I heard a loud, throaty noise coming slowly down 2nd Street in Berthoud. I looked out as the noise stopped in front of my house. There he was, a biker, in his biker clothes, riding his 1942 Harley Knucklehead.

All of a sudden a casual, nothing serious, take it or leave it, friendship became something more. Hmmmm this was a very interesting picture. Never, in my wildest dreams, would I have ever seen myself climbing on a Harley behind a big burly biker. But, that evening, before I knew it, I WAS. This was a risky, exciting, colorful, experience for me, and I said to myself, "You better take another look at this guy."

Later he told me that he finally had to reveal his "biker" side so I would know exactly what he was about. He had sort of been pretending to be "normal" and he had to come clean.

On September 27 we were married and began a volatile, never boring, marriage that was for the next ten years centered on our Harleys and all that goes with it. I bought and learned to ride my own Harley Superglide. Notice I said buying before riding. Yes, I bought my Harley before I could even ride it. John had to bring it home from, John's Harley Shop in Fort Collins, as I didn't know how. It was a definite incentive to learn!!

The learning experience was not smooth sailing, but I did learn. After many trips out to the Dog Track parking lot on I-25 and much emotion and down right fear, I finally mastered it. The one thing I knew was that no matter what predicament I got myself into, John could get me out of it. He was big, strong and unafraid. That's a pretty nice insurance policy for a short legged Harley rider.

As I think about this time of year, I need to reflect on an idea I once read about. It was in "Illusions" by Richard Bach. Something on the order of people coming into our life when we need them and vice versa. They may not stay long, but they are there for a specific reason -- that we need them and they need us at that special time in space. We are sort of like magnets and we attract the people we need at the time. They - or we - may move on to another world or experience, but they were here at the right time.

That's the way I feel tonight. I feel I was in the right place at the right time to experience John with all of his faults and so many more of his good qualities. Smooth and quiet and normal? Never. But I wouldn't have missed it for anything. Can you tell? I miss my friend and compatriot and co-conspiritor this evening. Writing in this blog is the best therapy in the world for me, so please bear with me. I'm not so much sad, but, more feeling grateful for my memories.

If you have a special person in your life just take a quiet moment and realize that you are truly blessed. patj

The Diggers

2010-08-20T21:12:00.007-06:00

The first weekend in November! Who would have thought it would turn out to be a beautiful, sunny, clear weekend? We probably would have gone for a short trip on our Harleys, but we had promised Ed, better known as Boss Hawg, that we would man one of the booths at his “Hawg Wild Swap Meet". A swap meet is exactly what its name implies. It’s a place where all sorts of bikers gather together to trade or buy parts for their “scooters.” We always attended them, but this would be a new experience for us.

We were in charge of the $1 booth, and it seemed to be the busiest one in the whole place. There were used, dirty, greasy motorcycle parts of every description. I recognized a few parts when I first looked at our stock, but, by the time the swap meet was over, I had learned a whole lot more about parts!

Our booth was actually a shallow trailer with all of these parts thrown into the bottom. To find the good stuff meant literally “digging in.” I came to the conclusion that there are two types of bikers --- the ones that can’t wait to get their hands in there and inspect everything, and the ones that wouldn’t dig in there even if there were gold stashed at the bottom of the pile. I like all kinds of bikers, but after my weekend at the “dollar booth” I’m especially partial to the “diggers.’

As a matter of fact, one of my favorite customers was a guy named, Digger. He really didn’t buy much but he would sift through those parts telling me, or anyone that happened to be standing around what each part was for. What year, what model, how it worked and where it went. Even though Digger never did buy much, he was my favorite customer because as he found treasures he would stash them in a corner and after he walked away, another customer would be drawn to that corner as if a magnet was pulling his eyes and hands in that direction – and I would make another sale. I don’t think Digger realized that he had a talent that people go to school for years to acquire. He was a marketing expert – at least in motorcycle parts.

I definitely got an education about motorcycle parts. I learned about valve lifters, contact points, rocker arms and all kinds of mounting brackets. I watched as these hard core Harley riders tested for things being straight, round, chipped and stripped. They each seemed to have their personal quality program that, I am sure, has been learned through personal experience.

This experience wasn’t limited to adults either. One young kid about fourteen dug through those parts for about an hour. He stayed in there, shoulder to shoulder with the “big guys” as they came and went. I could see he was intently looking for one thing in particular. Finally, he held up a mounting bracket for a floor board. He had found that “needle on a haystack.” The most impressive thing about that young man was that he was wearing a white t-shirt, and after all that time, he didn't have one smudge of grease on it!

There are all kinds of people at a swap meet. People looking for leather goods, jewelry, accessories for their bikes --- people that just want to be with other bikers and visit with old friends. Some are there to promote various good causes that are pertinent to the biker world, like the anti-helmet campaign. Some are there to see the beautiful motorcycles in the show. To see this display of sparkling, waxed and polished machines is reason enough to go to a swap meet.

Our neighbors at the next booth were members of the Riders For Justice. Nice people that are taking their personal time to promote the anti-helmet campaign. This is a cause that is dear to the hearts of all bikers. Helmet wearers or not, they seem to agree in the right to have your choice in this matter. It’s more than an issue of wearing a helmet; it’s the issue of freedom of choice! I knew some of these folks already, now I knew them even better after being neighbors for the weekend.

The swap meet had an international flavor to it as well. We met some people from Berlin, West Germany. They have a motorcycle shop there and spend part of the year in America, buying motorcycle parts to take back to Germany. They had the booth behind us, so we had a chance to get to know them by the end of the weekend. Then there was Matt from Australia. He’s a friend of Ed's and he worked the booth on the other side of us. I got to know him and liked him in the two days – and I learned to understand his Australian accent, as I hope he learned mine.

Surprisingly, you see a lot of babies at swap meets. One little guy was just two months old. His Daddy told me that whether he grows up to be a biker will be his own choice – he just wanted him to grow up with the right attitude. I think this statement is pretty typical of the philosophy of these folks about life.

My whole swap meet weekend was a learning experience for me. Not just about motorcycle parts, but about people and about myself. These are good hardworking, down to earth people and I like them. They express their individualism in the way they dress and the lifestyle they have chosen. They pretty much live and let live. A swap meet is a place they can come to and be among others that dress, live and believe like they do.

On Sunday morning when the band started playing, the first song they played was, “The City of New Orleans”. It has always been a favorite of mine, simply because it is nice to listen to the words and the melody. Now, it’s a favorite of mine because of the memory I would have whenever I hear it. As I listened to the music, I looked around and the west door of the building was open. The sun was bright, the sky was blue and clear, the mountains were snow capped. My thought was, “Yes, these are America’s favorite sons.” The song fit the day and the crowd perfectly.

By the time the “swap meet “ was drawing to a close, the crowd was getting larger. Ed gives away a motorcycle as a door prize, and you have to be present to win. At 5:30 he opens the doors to everyone that has their name in the drawing. The mood becomes very tense as he prepares to draw the winning name out of the squirrel cage. If your name is drawn you have exactly 2 minutes to get up on the stage and claim your prize. I had a couple of tickets in the drawing, so I started edging my way towards the stage, just in case.

For the first time in two days, the building was quiet. As I was standing there waiting with the rest of the crowd, I could hear a small sound of activity coming from behind me. Yes, there they were -- a couple of diggers – going through the $1 booth. These two fellows weren’t about to be distracted by the mere drawing of a motorcycle! After all, they wouldn't get a chance like this until the next “swap meet."

The Prairie Schooner Days - 1942-1948

2010-08-16T21:35:00.008-06:00

It was a little house trailer that was about 30 feet long and 8 feet wide. It was Blue and Gray on the outside. It had a livingroom kitchen combination and a back bedroom. It was a 1942 model Prairie Schooner, and my parents bought it in Denver, Colorado when I was about age seven. We were living in Cheyenne, Wyoming at the time they bought it. They had taken another couple to Denver to look at trailers, and ended up buying this one for us. It would be our home, off and on, for six years until 1948 when I was age thirteen.

The picture that is part of this story shows what it looked like. The place the picture was taken is Tillamook, Oregon. We lived there while Dad was working at the "Lighter Than Air Base" during World War II. The date on the back of the picture is November 20, 1942. It says "This is a Kodacolor print". The colors are odd but it is the way 70+ years effects film. The license plate on Dad's Pontiac is "4-10321 Oregon 42". I'm not sure what David and I are looking at, but dad had a dramatic way of staging pictures. I think he was a frustrated movie director or something.

This little trailer house, which is so primitive by today's standards, was so important in my life. It was the haven David and I came home to, after school. It was where we read and painted and drew pictures and smelled the good home cooking that our mom provided. With only one bedroom, David and I shared the davenport in the livingroom. It was one of those old fashioned davenports that had no arms and when it was folded down it made a very good double bed. When my Dad was getting ready for work and my Mom was cooking breakfast and fixing his lunch, it was a comforting feeling to lay there listening and be an invisible part of the scene.

The Prairie Schooner was a special little house trailer. It had the privilege of being parked in some unusual places. Most of the time it was parked in a regular "trailer park," but occasionally my dad would find a unique place to park it. In Laramie, Wyoming he found an old abandoned gas station and made some arrangements to park there. The trailer had the spot where the pumps had once been and we had access to the station for the bathroom. The Prairie Schooner had no plumbing, but that was not too unusual in that day. At least it didn't seem to bother us kids, there was always a wash house or shower house in the trailer parks and we didn't think anything of walking across the yard to use the bathroom. Everyone did it.

One time we were parked in an alley behind a rooming house. We used the rooming house bathroom while we lived there. The neat thing about that place was that at the end of the alley, there was a movie theater. David and I had to just go a few steps to go the movies. With no television in those days, the movies were our main entertainment. There was no movie rating system in those days, if it was playing, it was safe to go see. Parents didn't have to even think about what their kids might see at the movie. It would be a couple of decades before we "progressed" to that point in our society. David and I spent hours reading comic books. That was another way to have fun. Then, of course, we went to the libraries where we lived and had the whole World at our fingertips. Many hours were spent in the trailer reading of far off places and adventure.

The last place the Prairie Schooner was parked was in the yard of Mrs. Anna Smith. She had a large property between Scottsbluff and Gering, Nebraska. The distance between the two towns is three miles and her place was about in the middle. It is totally developed now and doesn't look anything like it did in 1946. In 1946 it was pasture and chicken coops, and sand pits. My Dad had arranged with Mrs. Smith to park our little house trailer there. I am sure it was meant to be a temporary arrangement, but we would stay there for about two years before my Mom, David and I moved to Scottsbluff, to 1909 First Avenue. Mrs. Smith became a very good friend to our little family during some hard times we had while living there. David and I rode into school with the Eckland kids. Their Mom, Susie, sort of adopted us and took us everywhere they went. We didn't have a car after my Dad left, so we were dependent on the bus or neighbors for transportation. The Eckland family lived behind the Swift Packing Plant, which was maybe 1/4 mile from Mrs. Smith's place. Their daughter, Janis and I were best friends for many years. They were so kind to us and didn't ever treat us like "trailer house trash." I didn't know that term then, but I certainly knew the subtle meaning of it.

Trailer parks during World War II were definitely the image that folks have of them. Usually people were so transient that they didn't bother making any attempt to look permanent. The yards were junky and the trailers were junky and the kids were sort of urchin looking. We had fun though, and didn't know any better than to be happy. We all had one thing in common — we moved around a lot, had to start in new schools a lot, and sort of had a way of sticking together while we lived in the same trailer park. These were very short lived relationships.

When my parents divorced the Prairie Schooner was sold. I don't know who bought it or what happened to it. I was happy to be moving into a basement apartment — sort of like "regular" people lived, with a bathroom and everything. You can read about that place in another story called 1909 First Avenue.

As I look back on my years in the Prairie Schooner, I value them and I value it also. It was a good solid base for two kids to hang onto and come home to. I guess it proves that the spirit is what counts when it comes to what makes a home, not the luxuries. I wouldn't trade my Prairie Schooner memories for anything.

I finally figured out how to make it black & white which shows more detail. I like both pix so I am leaving them both in. Patj

A Week In Paradise (or close) -- The Family History Library

2010-08-10T14:46:00.004-06:00

I finally made it to Salt Lake City in July. It has been a goal of mine for years -- not to Salt Lake City in particular, but to "The Library". What a great week I spent there --- in the middle of July (hotttt). In spite of the heat it was a trip to remember.

I had a little pre-trip anxiety because I wondered if I could: (1)drive there all by myself (2)work from 8am till 6pm every day (whew shades of working years!)(3)be able to find my way around the Library (4)drive Salt Lake traffic in the rush hour both going and coming (5)find suitable parking close to the Library (6)go all day without a nap (hmmmm perhaps the biggest question).

I am happy to report that none of these preconceived issues were a problem. Thanks to a nice rental car that made it easy to drive there, adrenlin rushes that made working dawn to dusk a piece of cake, wonderful organization of the Library that makes getting around easy, the "Garmin Girl" of my borrowed GPS gadget, finding a wonderful parking lot on my first day that was 1/2 block from the Library, and finally, just not having time to think about naps!!

The first day I stopped at Grand Junction to visit and stay overnight with Ryan, Katie, Jack & Grant. What fun to see all the activity in a home with two little boys -- and the energy! We had a nice "dinner" and visited with Katie's parents. I was politely corrected by Jack that it was "dinner" not "supper". I slept in Jack's bedroom in the extra twin bed and we told stories till I dozed off in the middle of one.

The next day I journeyed on to SLC. We had a lovely dinner on the deck and had delicious Portabella sandiches that were so tasty. Chad & Zoe's back yard is gorgeous, enclosed with trees and shrubs making it a private outdoor room.

During my week in SLC I read 81 microfilms and looked at 67 books. I can't say I "read" the books as usually I was looking at the indexes to see if anything promising was there. Although that is quite time consuming as well. Most of the microfilms can be ordered locally for $5.50 -- but the beauty of going to SLC is that you can go to the cabinet and get the next one immediately if needed rather than waiting to order. The books can not be accessed without going to SLC, so that is a big bonus. Next time I will spend more time in the books.

I stayed late Wednesday night as they had a class I wanted to go to, so it was 8:30 before I left that evening. Needless to say, it is a very busy place.

Another wonder is that it is directly across the street from the famous Tabernacle and the beautiful Salt Lake City Temple, also across diagonally from the Conference Center. It is amazing how after a few days I took for granted looking casually across at these buildings I have long admired.

The extra big bonus was that I spent the evenings with Chad & Zoe (and of course, Sasha). Sasha was always there to greet me when I got home and I think she thought I was going to live there now --- Chad & Zoe were glad to see me make it home as well, although not quite as demonstrative as Sasha. Their hospitality was a real treasure to me, and I don't mean just monetarily. That sure did help me make the trip possible,though.

Actually, I had another reason for making the trip. My great great grandparents, Eugene Casey and Jencene Jensen did a similar trip about 1931/32. I have pictures of them in Ottumwa, Iowa when they came to visit their daughter and family. The pictures show them, my great grandmother, my grandmother, my mother and her cousins and siblings and aunts and uncles. Eugene had checked himself and his wife out of the South Dakota Old Soldiers Home and went on this trip. It was an "of course we can do it trip". They went to Nebraska and Iowa and visited all of their children that were still alive. I always admired that, and I wanted to see if I could do the same thing. They were a bit older than I am, but close enough. What tough people I have for ancestors.

In summary, this trip was one in a lifetime and I will treasure it forever in my memory.

Remember When You Were Young?

2010-08-07T19:21:00.003-06:00

I couldn't help thinking about something today. I was thinking "how does a person remember when they were young?" It isn't like one day you are young and the next day you aren't. So how can I define that age? I decided it was easy.

Just remember when everyone you knew and who was important to you was alive. Remember when no one close had died? I do. My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins were all alive. It was so natural to know that I would see them again and to take that for granted. It was a special time that was not to last forever. How innocent and lovely that time was, even with the troubles, it was good. Fortunately, change usually happens slowly so we aren't suddenly devastated by so much, but in reflecting over 70 years or so it is clear that that age is gone forever.

Fortunately, God, or whatever you call your Higher Power, gave us the great gift of memory. If we stay healthy mentally, we can recreate that special time and remember those people that we knew when they were young and vibrant and so important to us.

I am so blessed to have good memories stashed away. For my birthday I received a cd of one of my favorites, Cat Stevens. There is a line I love in his song "Father & Son". He says, "Look at me, I am old but I am happy, you have so much to go through." This is my motto these days. I am old but I am happy. I wouldn't change my place for anything.

What is the theme of this story? "Cherish Yesterday, Dream Tomorrow and Live Today"

Teen Age Moms -- I Love Them!

2010-06-29T04:00:00.004-06:00

The current trend in our society is to judge harshly teenage mothers. I will never do that. Mainly because, as you see, my mom was a teenager. When I had my daughter I was a teenager. I look at this 75 year old photo and see a young girl that faced a long life. But she had a look of hope as she held her baby daughter. Oh yes, many things were in the future that were going to be hard, but on that day, things were good. Criticize teenage moms? Never, not me, not ever. Nature prepares young girls to bear babies for a reason, they are healthier, have more energy and their babies are more apt to be healthy. Not that I advocate every young girl should get pregnant, its just that if it happens don't judge so harshly. In fact, I say we should celebrate it and get on with life (hard as it may be). This is one daughter that loves her own teenage mom (and dad as well) and I thank them for facing life head on and having me. The miracle of life is so precious as demonstrated in this picture. Happy birthday to me and thank you to mom and dad.

Don't you think my mom is beautiful? I do, but I am prejudiced.

A Father's Day Tribute To 3 Special Men

2010-06-17T10:50:00.005-06:00

In 2002 I wrote a book about my life, my memories, the people I have known, etc, etc. It was a way to let my descendants know what my life was like in the "good old days". I want to share what I wrote about 3 very special men then -- and now. On Father's Day 2010 I felt it was fitting to share these thoughts. John and Lee have died, but I wanted to keep the thoughts as I wrote them when they were alive. I hope you enjoy the chapter on my special men.

"A chapter about "People I Have Known" would not be complete without a sketch of three very special men in my life. They are my husband, John E. Johnson, my stepfather, Lee P. Johnston and my son-in-law, Donald L. Lewis.

John E Johnson
My husband, John and I have been married nearly twenty years as I write this. It was the third marriage for both of us, and so we both had a lot of memories attached to us before we ever got started. Those memories caused us some difficulties in the beginning, but with perseverance we overcame them. Now, we are best friends and constant companions. I know of no other person that knows so much about me — and still likes me. That is the greatest testament to his patience I can think of. John is my greatest advocate. He encourages me to do things that may seem difficult at first. His confidence in me instills confidence in myself. Sometimes all we need is to know someone believes in us.

John and I can ride for hundreds of miles without a lot of chit chat going on. I once read that this was the test of how compatible people are. Can you ride in silence and be comfortable with that other person? We can do that. We have shared so many interesting and memorable experiences. On our many trips, on our Harleys, and in our ordinary every day living, we share each day. I really can't imagine life without him, and I am glad I met him and I'm glad I married him.

Lee P Johnston
My stepfather, Lee P. Johnston, married my mom in 1981. I had known Lee for many years, even before his first wife, Viva died. Many years ago I used to keep their Seed & Garden Store open when they left town. I feel so fortunate to have him in my family, he is an important part of all of us. He and mom are elderly now and they seem to be pretty good companions. Lee supports my mom in the activities she participates in, and she does the same. Even with the aches and pains of age, they seem to enjoy each other. When one is sick, the other one takes care of them and vice versus. Lee's sense of humor is something else. He is a master joke teller and loves to make people laugh. His gardening skills are known all around the Gering area. He loves to grow things, and starts his plants in his little greenhouse in winter. This way he is ready for spring when it finally gets here. I love to go over in August/ September to stock up on vegetables to dry for the winter.

Lee has been a good example of how to face life head on and keep going, no matter what. I consider it a privilege to know him and I am so glad he is part of my family.

Donald L Lewis
My son-in-law, Don Lewis is such a special man. He is the one that rescued me so many times. Either when my car stalled, or I needed to move, or when I needed repairs on this old mobile home I live in. Don genuinely likes to help people, and that is a great gift to have. His sincerity makes all the difference in the world. I remember when I first met Don, and I thought Cindy was very lucky to have him to love her. Then their two sons came along, and I saw him be the best father he could be to them. The fact that they respect and love him today proves that he did a good job. I can still see him getting down on the floor and letting two little boys think they were "winning" the wrestling match with their dad. I always admired the good marriage of Don and Cindy. Their open communication is possible because they have a strong confidence in each other. If there ever was any marital trouble, they sure did keep it to themselves. My memories of Don go back thirty years, and I have seen him face so many of life's struggles as they came along. I used to worry about him when he was out of work, but I learned that Don is one of those people that always land on their feet. At least he makes it appear that way.

If I had ever had a son I could not have wished for a better one than Don Lewis."

Catharine McGlaughlin Forrest 1817-1904 My 4th Great Grandmother

2010-06-10T11:57:00.004-06:00

In 2001 I wrote about finding my two 4th great grandmothers. Since the story was very lengthy I decide to share it in two separate installments.

What a wonder it is, to have "found" the families of two ancestresses in the same year. Not that they were ever "lost", but only someone that knows genealogy realizes how difficult it is to find the female's story. For years I have followed hunches, read censuses, learned about people that lived in the same places where these ladies lived, all in hopes of finding just one little clue that would reveal the names of their parents. The sad thing about females of the middle 19th century, is that, most generally, their identity was always through a male, and very seldom in their own name. They went from being someone's daughter, to being someone's wife, to being someone's mother. Not often did they own property, pay taxes, vote, or have a probate record. After 1850 they DID appear on the federal censuses with their own identity. Prior to the 1850 census, they were simply a tick mark in a column on the census takers form that indicated their age range. In short, finding records of a female is a difficult task and can test the perseverance of the most patient genealogist.

These two ladies were destined for quite different lives. Catharine McGlaughlin Forrest lived to be almost 87 years old. She was the mother of nine children, and outlived four of them. Joanna Baker Sanford, on the other hand, lived to be only age 26 and had one child four days before she died. The amount of time allotted was much different, but, they were both females, and both provided the same challenge in finding their parents. It seems ironic that these two ladies are connected by a person not to be born until 1893. Catharine's grandson, Francis M. Cary married, Joanna's granddaughter, Olive May Sanford. This couple had a son on 08 December 1893and that was my maternal grandfather, Ralph O. Cary.

The door that opened Catharine's family history, came knocking on 08 February 2001. A simple e-mail message asking about my connection to the McLaughlin family of Scott County Illinois. It was from Linda Schlenker of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I answered, and asked the usual question. "Do you know of any clues to help me?" When I received her reply, I knew I had done the right thing in answering her — she knew who my Catharine's parents were!! I read it with a great deal of disbelief, it seemed too good to be true, so I had to proceed with caution. Linda told me where she got her information. It was from a book written by Steve McLaughlin of Dallas, Texas. Of course, Linda's address and phone number for Steve was quite old, so it took me a few long distance calls to find him, but find him I did. I bought a copy of his book and began to study it intently. There were several places that stated that Catharine was the daughter of Berriman and Catharine French McGlaughlin. Unfortunately, there was no substantial documentation, but I figured that ALL the family members that believed the connection couldn't be totally wrong!

I began a campaign to find something in writing to prove Catharine's connection to Berriman and Catharine French McGlaughlin. I ordered newspapers on microfilm from the Illinois State Historical Society, in hopes of an article about Catharine's marriage to William Forrest in 1837 and a statement of who her father was. She was of lawful age when she married, so her father was not mentioned on her marriage license. I ordered wills of Scott, Morgan, Pike and Greene Counties Illinois, in hopes of finding a probate for Berriman McGlaughlin. These counties changed boundaries quite often at that time, so he could be in any one of them. I read county histories in hopes there would be mention of Berriman and his children.

I needed actual documentation, because Berriman's father, Daniel McGlaughlin, was an American Revolutionary Soldier, and I wanted to submit him as one of my patriot ancestors to the Daughters of the American Revolution. They are especially tough about documentation! I finally sent my supplemental application in for Daniel with what I had on hand, but I kept looking and searching for real proof. A genealogist can't just take someone's word, they have to prove it beyond a doubt.

What I eventually learned was that Berriman owned some land in Greene County Illinois. Berriman died intestate, so someone had to sell the land he owned and pay the debts he owed and Hiram Holliday was that person. Hiram was married to Berriman's daughter,Vienna. I knew there had to be a record of that land transaction. Land has to be taken care of legally, in some way or another. I ordered, on microfilm, the deed that covered that transaction and lo and behold, all of the children of Berriman McGlaughlin were listed as part of the estate. I finally had my indisputable proof that Catharine McGlaughlin Forrest was the daughter of Berriman McGlaughlin. From the Scioto River in Ohio where she was born in 1817, (just fourteen years after Ohio became a State)to Wapello County, Iowa where she moved to in 1845 (one year before Iowa became a State), Catharine McGlaughlin had faced many trials and tragedies and had overcome them all. She died in Agency, Wapello County, Iowa in 1904. I was delighted that I had solved an ancestress mystery. It was a special feeling, but of course, opened up another female story to work on, Catharine's mother, Catharine French. There is no end to this thing called genealogy.

Joanna T. Baker Sanford 1825-1851 My 4th Great Grandmother

2010-06-10T11:49:00.002-06:00

Finding Joanna's lineage was an adventure in genealogy. The only thing I have ever known of her is what her husband, William O. Sanford wrote in a story. She had died many years before he wrote the story, so memories of her had faded with time. I can understand that, but I am so grateful that he wrote what little he did about her. He wrote that she was born in Bainbridge, Chenango County, New York and that she had brothers, L.F., D.H., and Albert of South Bend, Indiana. For years I had read it to mean that only Albert was of South Bend, Indiana. Upon reading the item with another perspective, I saw that all three brothers were of South Bend, Indiana. Just another case of how you can see something, but NOT see it. At any rate, this is all William Sanford wrote of Joanna's family. He wrote about how hard it was to be left with a four day old baby son, and to get help in caring for him. That baby was Charles Baker Sanford born 04 April 1851. He was the only child of Joanna, and the only child of William O. Sanford to live long enough to have children. His birth was a miracle and for a definite purpose, and he fulfilled it.

In 1997, when I visited the cemetery where Joanna Baker Sanford is buried, I felt that I was probably the only person to visit the site in many, many years. Joanna was left behind as her husband and son moved west. Her mother and siblings moved on, too. I have since learned that her older sister, Alice Marie Baker Bates, is also buried in Glendale Cemetery in Akron, Summit County, Ohio, so now I don't feel that she is in such a lonely place. Joanna has always held a special place in my heart. She was one of the first ladies I ever tried to "solve", and periodically I would pull out her folder and review it, hoping to find something new to pursue. Then the trail would cool off and I would move on to someone new. But Joanna always remained in the back of my mind — until 2001.

The story of Joanna is one of my favorites. The 1880 US Census was released on CD by the LDS Church in May of 2001. I bought it for my "birthday present" to myself. It is a great genealogical tool and I have solved quite a few mysteries with it. One day I was thinking of Joanna, and I decided to see if there could be an Albert Baker in South Bend, Indiana in 1880. Sure enough there was, and he was born in NY, the same as Joanna. The South Bend, Indiana Web Site on the Interent had an offer to look up deaths in South Bend. I sent a request via e-mail to see when this Albert Baker died. The lady replied that he died in 1899, and I could send for his death certificate from St. Joseph County, Indiana. I faxed a request for the death certificate and waited nervously for the reply. Could I be so lucky as to have found Joanna's parents from her brother's death certificate? When the letter arrived I almost hated to open it. When I did open it, I wanted to cry. No parents were listed for Albert Baker!! The only piece of evidence was that he was born about 1829 in Holley, Orleans County, New York. Well — this was a new place and that can be exciting, too. I started reading about Orleans County and ordered the 1830 census for that county. In 1830 there must be a Baker with at least one little boy under age 1 and a daughter age 5 or 6 (my Joanna).

While waiting to receive the census film, I did some more investigating in South Bend. Their site has some wonderful resources online. Among them are the census indexes and sure enough there was an L.F. Baker and a Lester F. Baker listed in different censuses. There was also a D.H. Baker and a Darwin H. Baker listed in different censuses. And, of course, I already knew about Albert Baker. These three men were also listed in the publication of "Men Buried In City Cemetery Of South Bend". I had found all of the brothers of Joanna that William O. Sanford had mentioned in his story. Surely one of these three brothers would have their parents listed somewhere. This was getting more exciting by the minute.

Enter Irvin Morse – my friend in South Bend. I received an e-mail from him saying he was answering my request for help from the South Bend Area Genealogical Society. I don't remember sending that request, but I have to assume that I had done that, and just forgot about it. I keep pretty good track of who I contact, but this one was a surprise to me. At any rate, Irvin said he had looked up all of the Bakers and would send me copies of their obituaries and cemetery records, etc. That is if I wanted them — if I WANTED them? I wasted no time in answering his message with a resounding "yes, send me everything you have!" He said Lester F. Baker, in 1860, had a Susan Baker living with him, would I be interested in a copy of that census? I said yes, especially if she was about age 63 — and she was! I had just learned that the mother of this family was Susan Love Baker — and she was born in 1797 — would be age 63 in 1860!! Irvin said there was an obituary for Susan Baker, also. Needless to say, I was on pins and needles until Irvin's packet arrived. What a find it was. Obituaries of the three brothers and mother of Joanna revealed all sorts of details of their lives. Susan's obituary stated that she married Eleazer Baker in 1818 in Oneida County, New York and that he had died about forty years before her. She died in 1877, so Eleazer died about 1837. This was born out by the fact that Susan was the Head Of Household on the 1840 Orleans County, New York Census. The obituary also stated that she was the mother of eight children and was survived by three sons, Lester, Albert, and Darwin! I finally had Joanna's parents names for sure.

The obituary of Albert Baker said that he was one of two sets of twins in his family. By studying the census records I found that Susan had two daughters age 28 in 1850. Sophia and Alice Marie. There was one set of twins! Through other deduction I found that the twin to Albert was Oscar Baker. There was the other set of twins!

I finally had the eight Baker children identified. I am still looking for more detail on Alice and Oscar, but that will come with time, I am sure.

Fortunately for me, Susan Love Baker and five of her children, in 1850, were in Akron, Summit County Ohio. From this census I could figure out the ages and who was married to who. All four daughters were there and they were: Sophia, Alice, Joanna, and Adelia. The one son that was there was Darwin. The twins, Albert and Oscar were in Milwaukee, Milwaukee County, Wisconsin and I have not located Lester yet. The other amazing thing is that when I found Sophia in 1850, with her husband B.T. Blodgett, I also found William O. Sanford and Joanna. They were living with the Blodgetts. For years I had wondered why I couldn't find William O. Sanford on the 1850 census and it was because he was living with his brother-in-law. The census for this family was taken on 12 August 1850. Joanna would have just learned that she was pregnant with her first child, who would be born 04 April 1851. Because I have the advantage of "looking back", I know she had only eight months more to live. These are the details of genealogy that can make me momentarily sad. But then I tell myself that this is the perfect illustration of how fragile the thread of life really is! So many people to come were dependent on Joanna having that baby boy.

I began to find out more about Joanna's mother and father. I savored the delight of finding them for a few days, then began digging deeper and further back. I always felt that Joanna's "case" would open doors to many new families, and it certainly did. Through the Ancestral file I found out a bit about Eleazer and Susan Love Baker. There was a name and address of the submitter for the information about Eleazer — so off went a letter to P. Wayne Rose in Salem, Oregon. About three days later I received an e-mail from his wife, Anne. She was the genealogist in the family, but they were HIS ancestors, so she had put his name as the submitter. What a wonderful find she was!

She copied and sent me charts and wills and stories and details of Eleazer Baker's ancestors. Some of the names were Carpenter; Smith; Pomeroy; Gibbs; Osborn; Strong; Bliss; (on his father's side) and Trowbridge; Paine; Spring; Kinne; Bacon; Richards; Brintnall; and Cox (on his mother's side). For five days, Anne mailed me a packet of information each day. It was like Christmas — multiplied by 100. These people go back to the 1630's in New England and I have learned some pretty interesting things about them. Most of them settled in Connecticut. They deserve a story of their own, and that will be coming in the future. On Eleazer's side I now have two more American Revolutionary Patriots. They are Daniel Trowbridge, Sr. and his son Daniel Trowbridge, Jr.

The submitter for Susan Love's information was not quite so prolific as Anne, but at least he had submitted the information , so I can follow up as best I can. Her father was Robert Love and her mother was Susannah Austin. They were of Rhode Island and Connecticut. Robert's father, Robert Love, Sr. was a Sergeant in the American Revolution, from Rhode Island. Here was another Patriot ancestor for me! I have not done any research in Rhode Island and I am looking forward to learning about that State and its history.

Just as I had always suspected, finding the ancestors of Joanna Baker Sanford, opened up all sorts of doors for me. It also got me back to New England in my research. It is a funny thing, but I feel most comfortable working in those States. When I get South of the Mason Dixon Line, I feel a little bit out of my comfort zone. I go there often enough, but I always feel a bit of relief to get back to Yankee Country.

I feel that Joanna didn't have much of a chance to leave her history, so finding it is sort of like a gift from me to her. She has long been one of my favorite ancestresses. I don't feel that she is quite so alone now, in that cemetery in Akron, Ohio. It is one of my greatest moments to have finally learned about her family.

11 Miles From My Neighborhood

2010-06-06T17:36:00.031-06:00

This morning to decided to not play Poker this afternoon, but instead I would fix me a picnic lunch and grab my camera and hit the open road. Because Watson Lake is one of my favorite places, that was where I wanted to go. Its a short 11 miles from my Old Town apartment and it is amazing how in that short distance I can be removed from the activity of Fort Collins.

Watson Lake is off of Rist Canyon Road and on the other side of LaPorte. As soon as I turned off Rist Canyon Road the quiet and peacefulness was all around me. Its not a large lake, but it is so beautiful and lots of ducks and geese make it home. They are so used to people there were three of them that sat under my picnic table and never even moved. Of course, there was also the hope I would drop some food. Poor things, little did they know that all I had was my salad and a couple of corn thins. I think my lunch companion is quite handsome, don't you agree?

It was so nice to sit in the shade, feel the cool breeze, and enjoy the sounds, smells and sights of the lakeshore. There were mostly fishermen around the banks, but a few families having picnic lunches. Watson Lake is a man made lake and it sits in a pretty "bowl" surrounded by beautiful red rock cliffs. The Poudre River was rapidly moving on the eastern edge of the area. Normally, the Poudre is a quiet river but today the snowmelt had it running fast and furious. There have already been a couple of casualties from "tubers" that underestimated the swift current.

I messed around with my camera and took a couple of "self timed pix" of myself. Unfortuantely, my camera seems to always take dark pictures. It is probably a setting I have messed up, but I don't know how to fix it. I hope you enjoy the pix in spite of it.

I enjoyed my vegan lunch and relaxed enjoying the scenery. A young couple came and the young lady visited with me for a minute. I finally left and went west to Bellvue and then up over Bingham Hill Road. It is so gorgeous up there and the view from the top is fantastic. Looking down from the top a person can certainly understand where the name, Pleasant Valley, came from. At the bottom as you travel west, is the spot where the French trappers cached their gun powder and thus the name, Cache la Poudre.

All in all, it was a perfect day. I am blessed beyond anything I deserve, but I will take it as long as I can. Life is good! patj

When And How Did THAT Happen??

2010-06-05T11:34:00.005-06:00

Before I get into the purpose of this post I have to step back a few decades and explain that my generation (or at least speaking for myself) didn't go to the Doctor very often. During the 30's, 40's, 50's, 60's I don't think I knew anyone that had health insurance. Maybe some folks had it but not in the world I lived in. Isn't that unbelieveable? In this day and age when that is the main topic of discussion, I can remember when it just wasn't in the conversation at all. I often wonder how that changed. Was it because people started expecting to live long and healthy lives until at least 100? The society I grew up in was one where you went to the Dr when you got sick and it had to be a serious sickness to warrant it. If you couldn't pay all of your $7.00 office call you sent a check when you could, brought cash to the Dr's office, or you paid half of it and the rest when you got the next paycheck. Of course, I was young then and the Doctors were always older than I was and commanded a certain aura of respect that I pay to them to this day.

When my oldest daughter was born in 1953, as a young struggling couple we had no money. The bill was $150.00 for Dr. Krieg and $150.00 for Saint Mary's Hospital. We set up a payment plan at each office and paid it off monthly. That is so far from the reality of today it sounds like a fiction story. This little side story is simply to explain "where I come from."

On June 4th I visited my cardioligist after my procedure at Medical Center of the Rockies, pictured above. I feel very fortunate to have access to such excellent care for my heart, both at the Hospital and at the Doctor's office. As I sat in the room I couldn't help but wonder what has happened that now the Doctors look so young? It was a rather silly thought, but since my past experience was that Doctors were older than I was, it struck me that something (like many years) has happened since I last thought about it. I couldn't help but pry a bit, and I found out the cardioligist is just a couple of years older than my oldest grandson. Suddenly I thought, "When and how did THAT happen?" It was a "Rip Van Winkle" moment

It surely couldn't be because I am now one of those older people I used to see in the Dr's offices so long ago. It is a wonder to me how Dr's went from being older than me to being my grandson's age. I guess "life" is what happened and it is a natural progression of things because we are human. The new soon outnumbers the old. It has to be this way but it still leaves me with the question, "When and how did THAT happen?"

At any rate, I appreciate very much the younger generation with their wisdom and commitment to care for others, even us oldtimers. I am your biggest fan!!

I will leave the deeply philosophical thinking for another day. patj

Memorial Day 2010 - Grandview Cemetery

2010-05-31T19:52:00.007-06:00

The day was absolutely beautiful. Not too hot and a nice gentle breeze to remind me that summer is not quite here yet. I was early as I wanted to spend a few moments in Section F before going to the memorial site for the program. I decided to take John's walker as a lawn chair, since I didn't see any need to keep one when I downsized last October. This worked out fine though, as I could take my "chair on wheels" and carry my water and other essentials in the box. It was so comfortable to sit on I wondered why more people hadn't thought of it.

As I headed toward the main site a nice couple walked beside me and I asked him if he was a veteran and he said "yes". I thanked him for his service and he asked if I was a veteran and I said, "No, but my husband was in Korea." I had a wonderful view of the program and it was extremely emotional for me. John and I missed it last year as he didn't feel up to it, but we almost always came to Grandview for the ceremony. The music and speeches were very good and the 21 gun salute and other rituals were colorful and caused more than one person to wipe their eyes. Especially moving to me was the song Amazing Grace played on the bagpipes.

One reading really hit home to me. "An American Soldier Died Today" emphasized how often an American Soldier dies and no one notices because he was a soldier a long time ago. He went to war, did his duty, came home and got on with life by getting a job, having a family,raising them, doing what was expected of him and then as an old man he died and no one remembers him as that young American Soldier of so long ago. How politicians, statesmen, athletes and famous entertainers are paid all sorts of honors but that ordinary American Soldier slips into oblivion oftentimes unnoticed.

As I sat on my "chair on wheels" in Section F, after the ceremony, a man and woman came by admiring the huge pine tree near our "spot". It was the sort of day when there were no strangers and they began to visit with me. The man was also a Korean War veteran and we talked about that. It was the sort of day that a person brushes near others,and then will never see them again, but it leaves a warm and positive feeling in my heart. It was an emotional day and a good day. I needed to meet head on and bear my feelings today and there was no better place to do it than at Grandview Cemetery on Memorial Day 2010.

In answer to John's often spoken question "I wonder if anyone will visit my grave?" I can say "Absolutely!!". And I am proud to do so.

From A Grateful Nation

2010-05-03T17:33:00.003-06:00

A pleasant surprise happened today. I received this Certificate of Appreciation in the mail. I know John would be very proud to know his Army service was acknowledged. I am very proud to share it with you. It seems a small thing in the greater scheme of things, but it is nice none the less. I think of John's stories of the horrors of Korea in 1950-1951 and wonder how our young men that went to war could ever be the same -- and they weren't ever the same. Not then, not now.

At any rate, it is nice to receive a belated certificate in John's name. I am proud of him and I hope his family is as well. He did what his country asked, came home, raised a family and went on with life. May we all face our responsibilities as he did. Rest in peace, dear friend. patj

Life In Business Cards?

2010-04-29T17:53:00.004-06:00

As I was sorting some more "things" I found my oldest business card from my time at AMF Head Ski Division
when I was Patricia A Meier. Oh my, that was a LONG time ago, and a special time in my life that I look back at with deep feeling. Someday I will tell you about that time. At any rate, I also had my HP business card and the ones of my "after work" life. It dawned in me that a good deal of my life is symbolized by these cards -- so why not share them. There is all sorts of documentation for a history, so why not business cards.

Of course, the first half of my life did not require that I have a card to hand someone to identify myself. That time was simpler and the activities of a daughter, wife, and mother of two daughters was the extent of my credentials. That was the greatest career of my life, but later I had to earn money so I entered the work force and began my education in the field of "wage earner". I wouldn't trade any of my experiences and I feel blessed to have had a wonderful, varied, and interesting life.

I learned from the other solderers at Midwec Manufacturing, customers I waited on at Henry's Market, the other spud speckers at Ore-Ida, the ski bums at Head Ski, the statistical, exact, and normal folks at Hewlett Packard. I have not listed nearly all of my teachers, but these are a few of them.

Its fun to reflect as I look at my history of business cards. Most of my past didn't need them, but those experiences are equally important. Later, patj

Everybody -- BackTo School

2010-04-23T20:29:00.004-06:00

It was a dark and rainy day on April 23, 2010. I had an important date with a 1st grader. Last week I attended the end of pre-school program for her younger sister, and this week was the "bigger kids" day at Timnath Elementary School. I was early as I had heard the parking would be at a premium. What fun to see the stages set up and the "Rockin to the Oldies" theme so delightful and colorful. As the parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, baby sisters and baby brothers started arriving the gym was filled with energy and excitement. I was watching for my friends to get there, but couldn't help getting involved in visiting with the folks near me. At 10:00 am the program started with the 2nd & 3rd graders, followed by the kindergarten and 1st graders. That was my main interest and they were absolutely professional, well practiced and perfect. You Are My Sunshine and Small World were my favorites. I was planning to leave after the 1st graders finished, but wait a minute ---- coming up was Sgt Pepper's Loney Hearts Club Band. No self respecting Beatle fan can leave without hearing that. The 4th and 5th graders did a fantastic job on this one. The costumes were perfect replicas of the real Sgt Pepper's Band. The kids loved singing the song and it just goes to prove the Beatles are timeless. The Beatles are old men now, but the youngsters can feel the music they wrote so many years ago.

At the end the whole school reappeared and sat on the floor and the older ones stood behind. The teachers sang "Rock N Roll Is Here To Stay" and the highlight was when several teacher couples came forward in their 1950's costumes and did the jitterbug. The faces of the kids lit up as they saw their teachers having fun and sort of acting like kids. What a great lesson for them to see that the teachers are real people just like them. The grand finale was when the whole school sang and I couldn't help but have a tear in my eye as I watched those beautiful and innocent faces. We are so blessed to have this hope in our midst. Suddenly the World didn't seem quite so dire.

Yes, everyone ought to beg, borrow or steal someone's youngster long enough to attend an end of school program. I'll bet you could even sneak in and no one would know if you didn't have a special entertainer you were waiting for. Believe me, the rain was no obstacle as we all left the school and headed to the parking lot.

Thanks Timnath Elementary for a wonderul program and being good guidance for the next generation. If I had any doubt about the future before this morning, I sure didn't when I left.

The 2010 Lexington Alarm Tea

2010-04-19T02:27:00.006-06:00

April 18, 2010. I was up bright and early, well maybe not so bright. The day was cloudy and a dense fog is what greeted me when I looked outside. But I knew, “Not to worry” after all, last year the 19th of April (the day of our 2009 Tea) followed several days of heavy wet snow and it cleared and was a most gorgeous day. I expected the same this year, and was not disappointed at all. The day was gorgeous, an absolutely beautiful April day in Northern Colorado.

The set up crew, Sally and Lind Weidlich, had the room all set up by the time I got there. Suzy Wells followed shortly and the fun began. We set about decorating the Fellowship Hall in the United Methodist Church in Windsor. I doubt the Church has ever been decked out in so much Red White & Blue and it was so pretty. The serving table was ready and soon it was loaded with the most delicious looking (and later to find out delicious tasting as well) food.

42 ladies gathered in Windsor, Colorado to commemorate the beginning of the great undertaking called the American Revolution. Friday’s Council Tree Chapter, NSDAR has made this our signature event and today was our second Tea. We are so proud to remember and honor the brave men that stepped up and met the challenge on April 19, 1775 at Lexington and Concord Massachusetts. I have to ask myself every year, would I have been so brave? I like to think so, but I can only say I am honored to be a descendant of a Minute Man. Our Chapter has the following members that are so descended: Lyn Rubenthaler, Judith Kallinger, Erma Devers, Kristen Rubenthaler, Julie Wise, Jane Gronewoller, Julie Ryan, Shanan Gronewoller, Ann Ghent, and your humble correspondent.

We were so happy to welcome Honorary Colorado State Regent, Gloria Grotzinger, Colorado State Corresponding Secretary Susan Baughman, and Fort Morgan Chapter Regent, Becki Molitor. Other DAR guests were from Fort Morgan, Centennial State, and Toll Gate Creek Chapters. Many non DAR guests were present and we were delighted to welcome them as well.

A special presentation was given to Jane Goodwin, 60 year DAR member. Her daughter, Regent Carolyn Goodwin, showed us a picture of Jane as a Colorado State Page at a State Conference about 1952-1954. She was as beautiful then as she is now. Fast forwarding to the present, Regent Carolyn Goodwin, introduced out very own 2010 Colorado State Outstanding Junior, Martha Rehm. Congratulations to Martha and we are very proud of her accomplishment and recognition. She is an excellent Friday’s Council Tree Chapter Ambassador.

Lyn Rubenthaler gave a short presentation about “Paul Revere, The Rest of The Story”. Yes, he is the best known Lexington Alarm patriot, but I have the feeling he may have had the best PR agent. It is good to hear his story though as he represents so many patriots, and we can let him be the hero of the day. We need heroes as there is a lacking them in our time, so why not Paul Revere? Thanks Lyn for the entertaining presentation.

The ladies then had an hour to eat, socialize, and buy voices for the two prizes, the beautiful quilt and the gorgeous pillow. The quilt was won by Ethel Maxwell and the pillow was won by Gloria Grotzinger. Both ladies were surprised and pleased to be the ones to take home such beautiful items made by Chapter members Christine Biondi (the quilt) and Iva Zajicek (the pillow).

The Tea Cup contest was won by Karla Flook (most patriotic), Iva Zajicek (the prettiest) and Suzy Wells (the smallest) – and it WAS tiny.

Thank you to all that attended, brought friends, brought food, set up and cleaned up. Special thanks to the Lexington Alarm Tea Committee, Suzy Wells, Laura Hicks and Paula Greenwalt. Thank you ladies, it was a very enjoyable and pleasant day. Your hard work is appreciated by all. I am also a happy camper --- why? Because I have some prospective members and that is what I enjoy most of all!! That is a Registrar’s dream.

I hope more can join us again next year ---- and bring a friend. patj

At Long Last ----- Thomas Griggs Gets His Due!!!

2010-04-07T13:27:00.004-06:00

My day started off just fine. After a brisk walk in the light snow that fell last night I checked the database on the DAR database eMembership. When I have new members or new supplemantals waiting there I check every day -- several times a day, to see if any applications are verified. As chapter Registrar I have access to it to do my job. I was glad to see the word "verified" next to Thomas Griggs.

Two weeks ago I sent in additional information about my patriot ancestor Thomas Griggs. Finally, today they agreed with my proof that Thomas was indeed a patriot. I knew in my heart he was, but I had to find very definitive proof. Here is what the entry looked like this morning:
Griggs,Thomas (#1) Phebe (#2) 984 (#3) Verified (#4) 4/6/2010 (#5)

I added the numbers so I can explain the entry. (#1) is the patriot's name; (#2) is his child that I am descended from; (#3) a DAR specific code; (#4) the ideal disposition!!; (#5) the date the application was verified.

Thomas is patriot #28 and I still have Mathias Morton to reconcile with DAR. They have challenged that my ancestress Hannah Morton is his granddaughter. Wish me luck on this case. It will be a tough one. I know I have many more patriot ancestors but will I ever get through the brick walls I have on them? I have to take them one step at a time. Eventually I will find the missing links. Meanwhile, I am happy that Thomas Griggs has the honor he deserves. He is one of my favorite ancestors. I imagine him being a tough, solitary, hard working man that raised his family of 8 children in a wild and savage land -- before it was even legal to be there in the western edge of Virginia. Just like kids, the toughest ancestors are special.

patj

April 6, 2010 --- A Typical Fort Collins Day ---Maybe

2010-04-06T19:44:00.003-06:00

My activities this morning were rather unorthodox. Up at 5am to go to Miramont Lifestyles and do my regular exercise routine. Home to eat breakfast read the paper and take a nap (g). Yes, really, all of that before 8am!!

When I got up I realized I was out of lettuce for my noon time salad. Oh dear, for a vegan that's like an alcoholic being out of beer or whiskey. It was a bit cloudy out but the slight drizzle of rain had stopped so I bundled up and walked 3 blocks to Fort Collins Food Co-Op. Its my favorite old fashioned organic and health food store. Wouldn't you know it? The store doesn't open until 8:30 and I was there at 8:15. The Sun came out and sitting on the bench in front was very pleasant.

I noticed the big crane further west on Mountain Avenue but didn't pay much attention. I figured it was some sort of construction project. A young man sat down waiting for the store to open and he told me they were moving "The Statue" today. He said that there were only two cranes in the State big enough to lift it. I had mixed feelings about the news. The statue was incredibly ugly, and totally out of place, being located in the historic little square at Mountain and Linden. When I first saw it I was actually shocked at the strange figure that was block shaped and looked like it was running. I later learned it was symbolizing a figure emerging from the marble. At any rate, I just ignored it when I saw it and just figured it was there to stay. Apparently there had been a movement afoot to move the statue and stick it somewhere in a less "prime" location. Of course there was a lot of discussion about the huge cost to move a huge chunk of marble. And where would it be in a less embarrassing place?

After I bought my lettuce and Red Chard I decided to stop and watch the moving scenario. I finally left and walked toward home, on Remington Street. It was just a bit too nippy to stand there for too long. Actually, I was only interested in the rigging of it and the actual moving. I feel it is good to be rid of it.

Later this afternoon I was driving by and it was gone. Placed off to the side I saw a sculpture of a bucking horse with a cowboy waving his rope in the air. I wonder if that will be the replacement. Has anyone realized that it looks exactly like the Wyoming Bucking Bronc on their license plates?

Perhaps you have learned that I live a very vibrant and interesting place. That may be the reason I don't want to live anywhere else. I am blessed for sure. patj

A House To Remember ---- 1240 M Street

2010-03-22T18:17:00.005-06:00

The house was large, two stories and a ½ basement. It had fourteen rooms and since the 1930’s had been partitioned into sleeping rooms and small apartments. For a young couple without much money it was ideal. The income from the apartments and sleeping rooms helped make the payments and cover the cost of improvements.

The house cost $7,000 in 1961 and that was a low cost even for those days. A new 3 bedroom brick house went for $18,500. That doesn’t seem like a high price now, but then it was out of the reach of the ordinary family. At that time $100 a week was a good salary.

At first, I was reluctant about buying the house at 1240 M Street. It took some adjusting to having strangers living in the same house we did, and besides that, there was only one full bathroom for the entire house. There was a little extra room with a stool in it. It would seem like an intolerable situation to me now, but it’s surprising that it wasn’t that hard to adjust to it. The bathrooms were located in the back hall of the house just inside the east side door that was the entrance for everyone except the family in the front four rooms of the house – that was me and my family.

The main apartment, where we lived, had four large rooms and a glassed in front porch. There was a huge living room and a huge kitchen/dining room combination and two good sized bedrooms. The living room and dining room were separated by colonnades and that gave a large open appearance to that part of the apartment. The floors were beautiful Birdseye Maple – priceless today. The glassed in porch was south facing so it was a great heat saver in the winter. The original kitchen (in its one family days) had been partitioned off and made into a small two room apartment. Aye and Leora Ulmer lived in that apartment. They had lived in that apartment for at least 15 years. Aye was a bartender at a local bar and he and Leora went there every afternoon at 4 o’clock (you could set your clock by it) so he could work and she could visit with the patrons – and drink. Their rent was $25 a month.

The stairs to the second floor were also off the back hall and folks that lived upstairs entered through the east side door and straight upstairs. There were four rooms on the second floor. The front two rooms were a small apartment and the other two were sleeping rooms. A young man named Kenny Taggert lived in the apartment, and later when he married, he and his wife lived there until they could afford to rent something a bit more conventional. He was a nice young man that was born with a physical handicap, but he worked as an office machine repairman and always had a job and always paid his rent on time.

One of the sleeping room regulars was Leo (Curly) Grieson. Curly was a shy and quiet man that had a serious alcohol problem. He never caused us any problem so there was no need to pass judgment on him. He was a steady patron of the bar where Aye Ulmer worked. We never learned much about Curly, just to speak and give him a receipt for his rent which he faithfully paid every month. It was $7 a week for his room.

The other sleeping room was rented off and on to various people in transit. It was no problem if it was vacant as it was handy to have the extra bedroom for relatives when they came to visit.

The half basement had two rather dingy and dark rooms and a laundry area with my old wringer wash machine and rinse tubs set up. I loved that wringer wash machine as it was “meditation time” when I did laundry. For one thing no one wanted to come close in case they would have to assist in the laundry so it was a time to think a lot. Although I was glad when my mom bought me an automatic washer for my birthday one year, we kept the old wringer as a back up.

One winter day, early in 1962 an old man came to the front door. His name was Ben Black, and he said he had heard we may have a room for rent. I didn’t have any rooms so I told him all I had was a basement but it wasn’t really fit to live in . He insisted on looking at it so I led him down to the basement and sure enough he wanted to rent it. I had a hard time thinking of an amount for it as it wasn’t the least bit rentable – in my opinion. Finally Ben said he would give me $15 a month and I finally agreed. I knew by looking at him that he still had a lot of pride and living there for nothing would never set with him. Ben lived there until he died about seven years later. He was a good customer of the bar where Aye Ulmer worked and he had done something to alienate his family so none ever came to see him. He had been a carpenter all of his life and I still have a little stool he built and gave to me so many years ago. Everywhere I move it goes with me. Ben never talked about his family and we weren’t the type to pry into people’s lives.

One winter Ben started some tomato plants down in that dark basement. When I started my garden he came upstairs and gave me the tomato plants and he was so proud of them. I simply HAD to plant them even though I was sure they would be shocked at the first sunshine they encountered. It was sprinkling the evening I set them out and I was sure they would be completely wilted the next morning – but surprisingly they were standing tall and strong when I went out to inspect them. I don’t know why, but those tomato plants took to outdoor life like you wouldn’t believe! That summer I had tomatoes coming out my ears. I couldn’t think of enough ways to can them. I made tomato catsup, tomato sauce, plain canned tomatoes, tomato juice, stewed tomatoes, tomato relish, salsa and they still kept growing. My explanation is that they had a special ingredient from the very beginning – Ben’s love of doing something for someone else.

The house had a special aura about it. It was old, strong, solid, and had weathered many storms. Not just weather storms but the storms of the many people that had lived there. Going through the house when we moved in was an adventure in itself. We hauled so many things to the dump that now would be antiques it is not good to think about it at all. Old free standing kitchen cupboards that are all the rage now for furniture restorers. The antique craze hasn’t caught on yet. Oh dear, the old tools and assorted implements in the old barn would be worth a fortune now.

During the 10 years I lived in the house many things happened. My daughter, Cindy was eight year old when we moved in and had graduated from High School when we moved out. My grandparents, Ralph and Hazel Cary lived in the upstairs apartment the first winter we lived there. They were in Nebraska visiting my mom and Laurel and we set them up in the apartment so they could have their own little place. Cindy would come home from school and rush upstairs to show them what she brought home from school or to hear stories they read to her. It is a good memory that three generations lived that house at the same time.

My stepfather, Laurel Evelyn died during this ten year period – as did my grandmother, Hazel Cary and my dear driend, Grandpa Fred Kuhlman. The house was the gathering place for friends and family after many funerals. It was so large and roomy it was the natural place for family reunions and holiday dinners. So many took place there it is hard to remember them all. Many times we invited all of the people in the house to come to dinner on holidays and special occasions. Sometimes they had somewhere else to go but many times they didn’t and if there wasn’t room at the large table there was plenty of room for card tables and chairs to be set up. There was always room for everyone.

The biggest event that happened at 1240 M Street, was when my daughter, Laurel, was born in June 1962. The house hadn’t had a new baby in it for decades. It had been a relatively quiet house but now it was filled with all the noise associated with a new baby. Laurel belonged to everyone in the house. They all were delighted when she was born. Being an adventurous little girl she often would go to visit the neighbors and she didn’t even have to go outside to do it! She liked to go down those creaky and dark stairs to the basement to see Ben Black. He always had a cookie or candy for her.

More than once Laurie’s wanderlust caused everyone around to help look for her. One fall day, when she was about 2 ½ years old I was busy canning. She woke from her nap and after going potty she dressed herself, jeans on first and panties on the outside and shoes on the wrong feet. I was busy so I hadn’t fixed things. She followed me out to the garden and when I turned around she was gone. She had decided to go for a walk by herself. I was starting up the street looking for her when a friend stopped by and we went in her car to look for her. We spotted her about two blocks away. Lois said, “She’s okay, let’s just watch her and see where all she goes.” We watched as she cut through yards and across alleys and she finally ended up investigating a tire swing in someone’s backyard. She wasn’t the least bit concerned or worried about being lost. She looked at us rather questioningly as we rescued her. Actually, we were both rescued, because I was rescued from having to call the police and having to describe what she was wearing!!

It was in that house we sat and watched President Kennedy intently on television as he addressed the nation about the Cuban missile crisis in 1962. Here also in November 1963 we watched again as we learned President Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas, Texas. We watched men walking on the Moon, Robert Kennedy’s funeral and Dr Martin Luther King’s funeral.

There was a lot of living going on in that old house. There were birthday parties, slumber parties, 4-H meetings, getting ready for dance recitals, and high school proms and graduations. It weathered all of the activities and became a part of it all by being the safe haven we came home to. It was a house built to be that very thing—and it is still doing that today, I am sure.

As life changes, so do houses. We sold the house in 1972 when we were transferred to Colorado. We knew we would not be moving back to Gering, Nebraska. We sold it to a family that had six children and I wondered if it would survive another family’s adventures. It did and it is still standing, strong as ever, it was built to weather all kinds of storms. In my mind it will always be the house it was when I lived there. It was an important part of my life and I remember it as it was then. It was a good friend. Almost all of the people that lived there are gone now, but they live in my memory of when they lived at 1240 M Street, Gering , Nebraska

Thomas Griggs To Washington, DC -- Again

2010-03-19T18:07:00.005-06:00

For the third time I am sending Thomas Griggs to the DAR in Washington, DC. The genealogists there are very careful in accepting a new Revolutionary Patriot. That is what Thomas Griggs is. No one has attempted to establish him as a patriot. Why? Because he is so hard to prove. Because he is hard to prove he has become one of my favorites.

Of course, the one I am working on at the time is always my favorite. Some ask why I do the supplementals at DAR. I wonder myself sometimes. They are expensive to process at DAR and they are expensive to do the research necessary to verify them. Expensive in money, as well as, anxiety in trying to solve a puzzle. At any rate, Thomas Griggs is finally going to be recognized as a patriot. I am certain I have met the challenge this time.

To recap Thomas' story, I sent him in originally one year ago this month, in March 2009. I knew it was a precarious service that I was submitting. It was in 1775 and it was near the end of the frontier war under Lord Dunmore. It was also just barely at the beginning of the American Revolution. DAR didn't buy my premise that this was a service that should be accepted. My next offering was sent in August 2009 and I had proof of a payment to Thomas Griggs in September 1783 that was paid in Augusta County Court. This payment was for supplying flour to the Army. Again, DAR didn't accept that as it didn't say anything about Monongalia Co Virginia and that is where Thomas Griggs lived during the American Revolution. My choice was to forget it and lose $75.00 or keep digging and see that Thomas Griggs is honored for his unfailing loyalty to the American cause. I am sure you can guess which choice won out.

Did I mention that Thomas Griggs was a very illusive man? What other kind could have settled in the western Virginia frontier in the 1770's? This was very primitive and rugged and dangerous territory. It makes me love and respect him all that much more. I think he may have been a Harley rider in modern times. (g)

I wasn't quite sure what to look for to get Thomas and me out of trouble. One evening I found “The Statutes at Large of all the Laws of Virginia Since 1619”. This is quite a lengthy collection of laws of Virginia and I thoroughly enjoyed reading them. If you are a psychiatrist, please don't tell me what THAT means.

I sent these five excerpts to DAR:

1. On 5 May 1777 the law was passed that states all males between ages of sixteen and fifty be enrolled in the militia of their county. Thomas Griggs definitely falls into this group of males so it can be assumed he was in the militia.

2. In May 1777 the law was passed that states that all free born males above the age of sixteen shall take the oath of allegiance. Thomas Griggs again falls in this category so it can be assumed he did take the oath of allegiance.

3. In May 1777 the law was passed that states the males refusing to take the oath of allegiance can not buy land, tenements or hereditaments.

4. In May 1779 the law was passed that states that Monongalia County Virginia is one of the nine counties included in the entitlement of preemption of previously settled land.

5. In May 1779 The law was passed that states that part of Augusta County is added to Monongalia County Virginia. This area is near Thomas Griggs' land and could explain his being paid in the Augusta Court in 1783.

As I read these fascinating laws I began to see that there was hope for our case. I reviewed material I had found many years ago and applied it to excerpt #4 above. I had a page from a book that said Thomas Griggs was entitled to 400 hundred acres of unpatented land in Monongalia County. Next I went to DAR's own booklet "Is That Service Right?". It clearly states that men that received a certificate for unpatented ladnd in the western nine counties of Virginia were patriots as they had to take the Oath of Allegiance at the time the certificate was issued. BINGO!!

I had the page from the book, but I wanted more, of course. I called the Monongalia County Clerk and they said to fax a request to them and they would do a search in their records and call me back to tell me if they found it and how much a copy of the certificate would be. The next day they called and said $1.50 would cover it. Needless to say, a money order for $1.50 was in the mail that afternoon. I received the certificate from Monongalia County today and Thomas was on his way within the hour!!

Hopefully, next week will conclude the Thomas Griggs case. I will let you know the outcome as soon as it happens. Hopefully, it will be a postive outcome.

Oh yes, I neglected to tell you, I have another challenge waiting in the wings -- Mathias Morton. 2009 was my "reckless" year when it comes to DAR supplementals. I took unprecedented risks and now I must face the consequences. Wish me luck on Mathias. His is a totally different kind of challenge. I need to prove that Hannah Morton (Mathias's granddaughter) is the same Hannah Morton that married Thomas Sankey. Hmmmm I wonder where to start? I think I will take a break and do something else for awhile.

Living On The Parade Route - St Patrick's Day

2010-03-13T14:00:00.010-07:00

When I woke up this morning there was a flurry of activity outside my bedroom window. People were walking and running toward Old Town. Cars were milling the street looking for parking places. DMA Plaza's "extra" parking lot was already filled with cars. Almost everyone had green clothes, some had green hair and most had decorated their dogs in green scarves and kids in other green decorations. It was still two hours until the Saint Patrick's Day Parade would start at 10 am but the activity was already buzzing.

I have not ever been a big fan of parades (unless there are lots of marching bands) but since it is going past my front door, I had to go out and watch. By the time the parade had turned east on Magnolia Street and then north on Remington (my street) the curbside was filled with families and people sitting in lawn chairs or on the curbs or standing. I grabbed my camera and headed out to see the parade. Unfortunately, my batteries went dead, but I did manage to get a few pix.

The day was brisk, sunny and the slight wind chilled me even when standing in the sun. It was a gorgeous day for a parade. There were the patriotic marchers, the bag pipe players, the Irish dancers, the baton twirling girls with their batons glistening in the sun.

Most of my neighbors that live in the Plaza were out enjoying the parade as well, so it was good to visit with them. Several of the parade watchers couldn't read the reserved parking signs and parked in some of the resident's assigned parking places. One resident returned to find his spot and the one next taken by the interlopers and he parked his vehicle behind them. I look out that way from my livingroom window so I waited to see the reaction when the "illiterate" returned and found their vehicles blocked. They were in a quandry for a little bit, then, both vehicles drove forward over the curbs in front of them. It didn't stop them, but it slowed them down for a minute or so. I wish the curbs were a little bit higher, but at least they got the message.

All in all it was a beautiful day.

The OLD Ted's Place

2010-02-27T13:05:00.005-07:00

So many years have passed since the corner of Highway 14 and US 287 looked like these pictures. Ted's Place, known as "The Gateway To The Poudre" seemed to me like it should be there forever. It was such a familiar sight when we went to Laramie on Highway 287 or turned west on Highway 14 to go up the Poudre Canyon. At one time it was known as the only place in America listed on maps and atlases that didn't have a Post Office.

It was an old building, a cafe, and a gas station, sold fishing gear, and stocked some essentials that campers or neighbors may need. John and I became most familiar with it when we would ride our Harleys out to the KOA across the road and set up our tent for the weekend. After getting settled, we would walk across the highway to Ted's Place to eat. John loved it because they made the best sourdough pancakes in the World, amd I hadn't tackled learning to make them yet.

My favorite memory is the sound of the old wooden screen door as we entered, and as it slammed behind us. There is no sound like a screen door used to sound before they became sophisticated and modern. I doubt they are even called screen doors anymore.

When we stepped in we were in area of the counter that held the old fashioned cash register. To the left was the cafe. It had a counter with stools that swiveled. It had kitchen tables and chairs of various makes and models. The tables had "oil cloth" coverings of various patterns. The term "oil cloth" is a test. Not many people probably remember that term. You could see the cook thru the serving window as she was busy preparing things that travelers may stop to eat. The floors were old wooden floors and ---- that's another special sound. The atmosphere was very welcoming and cozy and warm.

On one of our visits I bought two glass mugs that have a picture of Ted's Gas Truck and the words "TED'S PLACE Gateway to the POUDRE CANYON Laporte, Colorado". I have moved several times since then, but,I can never bear to part with them. They are from a place that is gone now. They remind me of a happy time in my history.

The corner of Highway 14 & Highway 287 was sold to Conoco several years ago. There was an effort started to save the old building called Ted's Place. However, Conoco made a decision about its property and ---- one day it was there and the next day it was demolished. Work done during the night stopped all of the discussion. Now there is a shiny, very busy, modern, convenience store on that corner. I am sure to the thousands of people that stop there it is nice and wonderful. As for me, I would love to step into the old Ted's Place and hear that screen door one more time.