Tag Archives: Serendipity

Tell me no lies

Family Stories, Genealogical Writing, , ,
Thomas and Shirley: a hint of a complex relationship.

While researching family stories for verification (and, let’s face it, amusement), I began to think that we all face the same questions: “Huh?” turns into “Why did he/she/they do that?,” which morphs into “What?!,” which then becomes “What were they thinking?!?!” We look for the truth but often find muddled facts, conflicting stories, and outright prevarications.

I discovered with the help of a maternal cousin that one of our ancestors, Shadrack Ireland (1718–1780), was something of a rogue/cad/religious nut. Sure enough, when I read about his life, history knows him as a pipe maker, carpenter, and “religious leader” who espoused Perfectionism at the time of The Great Awakening, a Christian revival in the 1730s and ‘40s. Continue reading Tell me no lies →

Tired of waiting

American History, Family Stories, Research Methods, , , , , ,
David Gorfein traveled to America on board R.M.S. Olympic.

Immigration to the United States has often been a difficult and time-consuming process, and never more so than during the first half of the twentieth century. The immigration laws of the 1920s established a quota system whereby only 2% of the national population of each country could immigrate annually; in effect, this meant that if there were 2 million Germans in the United States, then only 40,000 Germans could come to the United States each year. Continue reading Tired of waiting →

Great fires

American History, Family Stories, ,
James Athearn’s Washington House hotel on fire. Photo courtesy of the Nantucket Historical Association, image 1896.0128.001.

In my last Vita Brevis post, I mentioned that an enormous wild fire had swept through the area where my maternal grandmother’s family has farmed for more than a century. A distant cousin told me, “The fire is total devastation for many: the total loss of this year’s crop, homes, combines, and equipment. For us it could have been much worse. We lost no equipment or buildings, only about 500 acres of wheat.” A tragic loss of the best crop folks could remember in many, many years. Continue reading Great fires →

Contributing citizens

American History, Family Stories, , , , , ,

Several years ago my mother gave me a family picture that is unlike most family pictures; in fact, without the identifying information on the back, it doesn’t seem to be a family picture at all. Thank goodness for the label, which gives a ton of information, not only about the location, date, and people, but also about farming practices at the time. Continue reading Contributing citizens →

Lasting connections

American History, Collections, Family Stories, , , ,
View from the Lobkowicz Palace in Prague Castle

I was recently on holiday in London and Prague, and in the latter city I had a rather serendipitous encounter, as it seemed – but perhaps was not! While touring the Lobkowicz Palace at Prague Castle – an impressive structure in its own right, but only a small part of the Castle, which looms over the city – I walked up to a portrait of Princess Leopoldine Lobkowicz (1867–1936) by her contemporary Philip de László (1869–1937). As I was on a tour being led by Leopoldine’s great-great-great-nephew, and as I was about to meet the artist’s great-grandson for dinner in London, this coincidence seemed rather propitious. Continue reading Lasting connections →

Classroom roots

American History, Family Stories, Mayflower 2020,
Teaching Of Plimoth Plantation in 1983.

A time of major transition – I just retired from teaching after a wonderful run of thirty-five years. No one who knows me well asks: What will you do [more of] next? While genealogy, per se, was not part of the prescribed English and history curriculum, that quest always played in the background and sometimes assumed center stage. Particularly in the teaching of American history, it became the hook which anchored students to a personalized past.

Every Thanksgiving, I would manage to sneak in a lesson on William Bradford, my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, that usually began with a recitation from Of Plimoth Plantation, committed to memory: “It is well known unto the godly and judicious…” What impressed my students more than a hearty declamation of the text was that I could recount my descent from Bradford. During my first year of teaching, when seniors just a few years younger than I sorely tried me, one student stayed after class to talk to me. “Don’t tell my friends I told you this, but I am a descendant of John Alden. Have you heard of him?” Continue reading Classroom roots →

Finding peace

American History, Collections, Family Stories, Technology, , , ,
Empty copper tubes mark spots where ceramic containers of ashes have been removed to be reunited with families. The original Oregon State Insane Asylum building is visible in the background.

If you do family history long and broadly enough (searching out great-great-aunts and fifth cousins, as well as your direct ancestors), you’re sure to find them: family members whose census or burial records indicate that they were living in a state hospital or similar institution. Continue reading Finding peace →

Back to the sea

American History, Family Stories, , , ,
Haring's funeral train
President Warren G. Harding’s funeral train passing through Cedar Rapids, Iowa, on the way to his state funeral in Washington, D.C., August 1923.

When writing my last post, I missed an event that Granduncle Fred (Ross W. McCurdy, that’s for you!) mentioned briefly in the many notes he had made. While Fred was “hoboing” his way from the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes, he and his pals happened to be sitting on a coal car in the freight yard at Marion, Ohio, when the body of 29th U.S. President Warren G. Harding arrived for burial in Marion, Harding’s hometown. The President had died suddenly on 2 August 1923 at age 57 while on a speaking tour to San Francisco. Seeing “the entire train draped with black bunting” was a somber moment for Fred and his companions. Continue reading Back to the sea →

An extended part of the family

American History, Family Stories, , ,
Manuel Garfias. Courtesy of the University of Southern California Libraries and the California Historical Society

Are godparents part of one’s family? The church I grew up in doesn’t “do” godparents, so I don’t have any first-hand experience, but I know that my mother-in-law always enjoyed spending time with her godfather and considered him an extended part of the family. I’ve also known a couple of women who were raised by their godparents following the death of their parents.

Not too long after I discovered the true identity of my great-great-grandmother, Susana Elizalde (aka Susan Goodrich), I was looking at her family’s church records via the Huntington Library’s Early California Population Project. This resource is a little tricky to use. 1) It transcribes names exactly as they appear in the records, and Spanish spelling was very non-standard during this period. 2) The records make use of many boxes (“ego’s surname,” “ego’s Spanish name,” “ego’s native name,” “officiant’s name,” etc.) to standardize freeform records, and this doesn’t always work very well. Continue reading An extended part of the family →

A toe in different sand

American History, Family Stories, Research Methods, , , , , ,

Last week I had the opportunity to explore something completely different in genealogy. The hunt was to identify when and where a family came from to the U.S. The information was minimal and second-hand, but since this was the paternal ancestry of my grandnephews and grandniece, I had a little background already.

The family name now is Solhan and they have been in Indianapolis for three generations. The family traditions that I had heard over the years were that their origins were in Lebanon and/or Syria. There also was the old “name changed when they arrived” story floating around. I had the names of a number of the family members, in particular that the immigrating grandmother was Matilda. Continue reading A toe in different sand →