Secrets, Part I: They Were Just Farmers...

A couple of months ago at my son's basketball practice, I was sorting through some information that I'd found on an ever-elusive ancestor who may or may not be a connection to a pirate [a story for another time]. One of the other mom's asked me if I was a teacher. [I get that a lot. I guess I look like I'm grading papers...] I explained to her my passion for all things genealogical and my business plans. She remarked that my possible relation to a pirate was exciting. She went on to say that she wished she was related to someone as exciting as "my pirate". She also said they [meaning her family] didn't know a whole lot about their ancestors, but they did know, though, "they were just farmers", and she inferred they probably wouldn't be worth looking up.

"...they were just farmers?...not worth looking up?" [Definitely "challenge" phrases for any genealogist.]

I thought about what she'd said a long while afterwards. As other mothers [or fathers] know and as my blog profile indicates, we tend to wear many "hats". My husband is always giving me a hard time because I'm bad at conversation with people I've just met. [My husband is great at it, so we're a perfect match.] I'm a stay-at-home mom and when I meet someone, I don't ever think to ask, "So, what do you do for a living?" I just don't think in those terms. I personally don't want to be limited by just 1 or 2 things. Individually, they don't define who I really am.

Likewise, I like to think about those who came before us as more than the occupation that's listed on whatever census that I've found them on. It does tell me that they worked to provide for their families and how they went about doing it, but it doesn't tell me what their favorite food was, whether they liked sunrises or sunsets better, or what their secrets were...They weren't "just farmers" [or any other occupation]. They were multi-faceted people who had dreams and hopes for the future...

Growing up my mom and dad always liked listening to Paul Harvey, and so did I. He was always able to bring a story to life, then leave you "hanging" through the commercials [impatiently, I might add]. Then he'd give you "the rest of the story". For me, the occupation of an ancestor is just part of the beginning of the story. You have to "dig" for the rest.

In high school, my dad wanted me to "find" our family tree. He explained that the grandfather that I never knew [his dad] had not spoken much [in fact, hardly at all] about his family. Additionally, my dad didn't have a very good relationship with my grandfather. The few things he did know were: my grandfather had been born and raised on Galveston Island, Texas and had fished there; what he did for a living after moving to San Antonio, Texas; his birth and death dates/places; and a vague impression that my grandfather had been excommunicated from the Catholic Church. I was 18 and didn't really have any inclination to find out about my grandfather because I never knew him, and from what my father had told me about him, he didn't sound like a very nice man. As time wears on, though, you start to wonder just where you came from...who you came from...

At the time, I didn't realize just what he'd been asking from me. He wasn't just asking about names, dates, and occupations. While these are important, they don't give you "the rest of the story." My dad had been asking for his family story...and my family story, too. My dad passed away 5 years ago last month. Though I am "a day late and a dollar short" for my dad, I'm not too late for my kids and the rest of my family.

So, what is the rest of my grandfather's story you ask? Well, it wouldn't be any fun if I told you everything now. As Paul Harvey used to say, "stay tuned for the rest of the story...". In the next few posts, I'll take you back in time and give you a glimpse of my grandfather who had secrets that involved love and betrayal; a natural disaster that almost completely destroyed his family as well as a whole community; and the influence of a Greek family. Now tell me, doesn't this sound better than "he was just a farmer?"

So, what's the rest of your family story? Are you satisfied with thinking of them as "just farmers"? Well, I'm not. Get your bags packed and join me as I look at the rest of my grandfather's story...and my family story, too...

Good Ol' Johnny

I liked Thomas MacEntee's idea of "Surname Saturday" @geneabloggers on Twitter so much that I decided to use it for my blog today [plus I didn't have to come up with my own theme - thanks Thomas!]

Now, I know this is supposed to be a list of surnames that I'm researching,...and I'll get to that...just as soon as I tell you a story. [You didn't really think that you'd get away without a story did ya'?...Ha!]

First, though, a little quiz: does anyone know what Johnny Appleseed's real name was? [Yeah, I know, a quiz AND a story - What can I say? It's 2 for 1 day]

When my son was in 2nd grade, he was asked to play Johnny Appleseed in a play because he read so well [proud mom]. Does everyone remember ol' Johnny Appleseed [ya' know, the guy with apple seeds who went everywhere with a pot on his head]? Well, because they were 2nd graders, they were going to read their parts instead of memorizing them [Hallelujah! Have you ever tried to get a 2nd grader to memorize a lot of lines for a school play?].

Well, everyone read their parts, sang their songs, drank their cider, and basically had a grand time. There's nothin' like seeing your 7 year old son wearin' a long beard and and a pot on his head! [Johnny's later years.]

Little did I know, at the time, that we actually had a connection to good ol' Johnny Appleseed [well, my husband and children do...sorta']. While researching the Hackett's on my husband's side, I found him [or, he found me - aren't those the best finds?].

In a biographical and regional sketch of Bloominggrove, Richland County, Ohio, Johnny Appleseed was purported to have gone through there at one time or another [note the preciseness of the account].

"Really?", you ask. A guy named Johnny Appleseed actually went through a town named Bloominggrove?...in a county named Richland?...in the great state of Ohio, no less? [Say it ain't so, Joe.]

I know, who'd a "thunk" it? [more Texas-speakl]

O.K., so we're not related to good ol' Johnny [at least, not that I've found], and maybe he didn't stay with "our" Hackett's there, but he is [again, purported] to have stayed with their neighbors [only hundreds of acres away - he did like to walk, so, who knows?].

Was it coincidence that my son played Johnny Appleseed in 2nd grade? [I dunno. This is a rhetorical question.]

Do you know what Johnny Appleseed's real name was? [This is not rhetorical. Drop me a line and your answer in a comment, please.]

So, speaking of elementary school, does anyone have a John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt in their family? [me neither...& apparently, no Appleseed's either - at least not of the name variety. I have plenty of fruits and nuts in my family tree, though...]

Note: Along with no animals being hurt in the writing of this blog, I do have appropriate documentation to substantiate my writing, and it's available for your perusal. [Just as soon as I track down my 2nd grade teacher and have her sign a statement in the presence of a witness and notary affirming that she did, indeed, tell me the story about good ol' Johnny...I think it was 2nd grade...or maybe it was 1st...hmmm...]

O.K., here's a few of the names that I'm researching:

Hackett [PA>OH>IA]
Casteel [TN>IL]
Marshall / Marschall [Posen Prussia>TX]
Blacketer [VA>KY>IN>IA>MO>TX
Truitt [VA>MD>DE>KY>TX]
O'Brien [IRL>LA>TX]
Martin [NC>TN>IL>TX]
Vaughn / Vaughan [VT>CAN>MI>TX]
Vaughn / Vaughan [NC>VA>TN>KY>IL]

Caroline

My Gran's Southern Hash

The term, "hard times" has been tossed around lately, and I don't think that everyone knows what it means exactly. I'm not talking about politics or the market, though. While those are important for the "why", I'm talking about the "how." How did it affect the everyday family?

Just what did it mean to the everyday family?

I can still remember interviewing my Gran (my grandmother on my mom's side) for my family tree project my senior year in high school. I remember asking her, "how was life 'way back then'?" [My interviewing prowess showing even then! lol] While my technique obviously needed work, I think, in this case, it may have have been the right approach. Her answer was so clear and simple, but powerful. She replied," Dear," [my Gran always started a story with "Dear,..."] "during the war, we would wait in line on 'meat' day with our ration books." [Huh?]

Since we were sitting at the dinner table with full tummies and my mom in the kitchen doing the dishes, her reply caught me offguard. As a friend of mine likes to say, "I just don't have a slot for that." I couldn't compute that statement.

She went on to explain about rationing books and not having enough meat to go around during World War II. They were allowed only so much meat [and other goods] per week per person. Could you imagine - in this day and age in America - standing in line with your neighbors every week with your ration coupon books clutched in your hands in order to receive your ration of food items for the week for your family? [And to think I complain about having to go to the store...]

I also now understand my Gran's recipe for Southern hash. You see, my husband & I disagree on what hash really is. He was born in Iowa, but got to Texas as fast as he could, and I am a Texan, born and raised. [Hey, y'all!] Whenever my Gran would visit, she'd make hash at the end of the week, which consisted of all [and I do mean all] the leftovers in the fridge and homemade biscuits. And everytime I make it for my family, my husband always says that it isn't really hash, but a stew concoction of sorts. He says that real hash is made with corned beef and potatoes and served for breakfast. [Well, my Gran's Gran was 100% Irish, and I know what corned beef is. It's what you eat with cabbage on St. Patty's Day] To be fair, though, I have had corned beef hash, and it makes a wonderful breakfast. O.K., so there's 2 types of hash: Southern and not-Southern [but my Gran's hash is the real one - at least for me...]

While I make Gran's Southern Hash for my family [and "stew" for my husband] out of nostalgia and comfort [and yes, sometimes out of laziness - I really hate going to the store], my Gran made it out of necessity in order to feed the mouths of 8 growing children. My Gran's story about "hard times" during World War II is similar to a lot of other people's stories who went through it.

They scraped.

They saved.

They made "do" with what they had.

They hunkered down. [Texas-speak]

They worked long and hard to put food on the table for their families.

That's their family story.

It's my Gran's family story.

And it's my family story, too...

Caroline

A Family Story Told...

I just read this awesome and touching "family story." It isn't my story, but it is a wonderful example of finding one's family story (or a "chapter" of it), and how it unfolds before your eyes bringing the past to the present. It's about a Col. Isaac Erwin Avery and his last moments as a Confederate soldier. Because of certain circumstances, he's buried in a crude grave, and his family is left not knowing his actual grave site. Later, his body is exhumed and moved to Washington Confederate Cemetery (within Rose Hill Cemetery) in Hagerstown, Md due to Gov. Bowie's (Md) decision to honor the Confederate soldiers in a cemetery set aside for Confederate soldiers. The soldiers are identified and marked (346 in total). Those not identified are buried there as well in unmarked graves, which number 2122.

Though the soldier's last words are used by a prominent member in American history, the Col's family is never notified of the grave's whereabouts, and went undetected until a newspaper article in The Washington Times in 2007. President Theodore Roosevelt in Raleigh, North Carolina at the unveiling of the statue commemorating Sir Walter Raleigh, became "choked up" when it was time to read a yellowed piece of paper he held in hands. He handed it to Lord James Bryce (Britain's minister to the U.S.), which after reading it, Bryce responded, "President Roosevelt, we have nothing to compare with this in the British Museum." A true and rare compliment, indeed. You see, they were the words of Col. Avery who knowing he was about to die, he scrawled in his own blood with his left hand (he was paralyzed on the right due to his fatal injury)the following request, "Major, tell my father I died with my face to the enemy." His father eventually sacrificed a total of 3 sons and later another due to injuries sustained in the Civil War.

This story, which is told in its entirety at the link below, is a perfect example of how learning your family story can bring not only closure to a family chapter, but fill-in important facts about your family story. It's kind of like the difference between reading a non-illustrated book and an illustrated one. While you can't read "picture" books all the time [yes, I'm serious], neither can you tell your family story without "pictures" [literally & figuratively]. It's called many things in genealogy like: "filling-out your family tree", "adding branches or leaves to your tree", "fleshing-out your family". It doesn't matter what you call it, just do it. Find your family story. You'll never know what you might find -- a military hero, a thoughtful and loving son, a courageous soldier, a pirate [I've got one - a story for another day...], etc. Sometimes you find them, and sometimes in the midst of looking for one, another one will find you!

One thing is certain: you'll never know until you try.

http://genealogytrails.com/mary/washington/averyfamilystory.html

Caroline

Why Know Your Family Story?

What is your family story? Is it what you did this morning? Is it what you did last week? How about last year? Or, does it have anything to do with you at all? The thing about a family story is that it's all of the above and then some. It's about you and everyone in your family that came before you. It's also everyone in your family that comes after you. Each person is a chapter in your family story.

So, why care about your family story? I once read somewhere that everyone has a deep desire to know where you came from, who you came from, and who your people are. It's a desire to know where you belong. It's your heritage, and one day it will be your legacy. What will people remember about you? Just your birth, marriage, & death dates? Aren't you more than that?

Of course you are, and your ancestors are more than that, too.

Whether they were famous, high in social standing, or hard-working farmers, they were real people with real lives just like you. They lived, they loved, they grieved...they were everyday people.

Everytime I look at my family's old pictures, I always wonder what they were thinking when the picture was taken. Were they really as happy as they seem to be in the picture? One thing is for sure: I wish I had been there with them and I wish I knew them. These people who I am related to by blood. Would our similarities be apparent? From whom do I get my stubborness from?

As you are sitting there -right now- you are not a void. You are not a hole in history. You have a life. You have a place in your family, and you have friends. Your days are filled with your activities. You are an ongoing family story.

What will your children's children know about you and your story later on when you're no longer on this earth? Will they know your story, or will they just know your basics - birth, marriage, death, etc., or worse yet, will you be a void on your family tree? The chapter that's missing from the book?

Your ancestors were once more than a void in the family tree. They were more than just their vital stats. They had homes, jobs, and lives. They were mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces, and nephews. Each with their own chapter in your family book. Their own story that interweaves with all the other family members' stories creating...your family story.

Join me as I take a tour through history and my family story. Maybe yours looks like mine...

Caroline