tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30122789651025332032024-03-05T08:23:52.269-05:00Digging under my family tree...My experiences as I delve into my family's history, one root at a time.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-80979530699891455332011-08-05T10:27:00.000-04:002011-08-05T10:27:20.636-04:00Pardon me.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5c-j0E3XHM4a0lilltV4pMKqd4Htg6F-OzjKsBCp0PENTSsKhHKLgewv1WaBloszQ-oQnlzSB25NNYdjE85pUK8JGEqbFJW1RQ7hiX8TW5ia0DKrtgFNsiqIadvLexzhRMtF4HkQ3884/s1600/Wm+W+Busick+Civil+War+Muster+Roll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5c-j0E3XHM4a0lilltV4pMKqd4Htg6F-OzjKsBCp0PENTSsKhHKLgewv1WaBloszQ-oQnlzSB25NNYdjE85pUK8JGEqbFJW1RQ7hiX8TW5ia0DKrtgFNsiqIadvLexzhRMtF4HkQ3884/s320/Wm+W+Busick+Civil+War+Muster+Roll.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0JdiS87xFNrg5fhlDITQEhlILa8zk5fzdIoRsMBOr6ulIsOK78OvKyN45I3Q32NtQl0g6aKJXZhW8rylYwY_kjs2XBn8nO9nlk2ykNz22-cq-nOCKAJVm4_73JkdGNdqAnTboeVWQ0s/s1600/Wm+W+Busick+Civil+War.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="261" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0JdiS87xFNrg5fhlDITQEhlILa8zk5fzdIoRsMBOr6ulIsOK78OvKyN45I3Q32NtQl0g6aKJXZhW8rylYwY_kjs2XBn8nO9nlk2ykNz22-cq-nOCKAJVm4_73JkdGNdqAnTboeVWQ0s/s320/Wm+W+Busick+Civil+War.jpg" /></a></div><br />
My second great grandfather's pardon for taking part in the Civil War as a Confederate soldier, as well as a muster roll with the alternate spelling of his name.<br />
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Photos courtesy of Footnote.comBookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-78591874543564246082011-08-03T14:27:00.001-04:002011-08-04T15:19:47.761-04:00Wedding Wednesday - Accurate Information (or so you thought)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDGDI7pRSCaHjkDdXazz9fn62PmVx_kDD411TU4_J4mgv4jbj0KZVgNXCEaJf-S2RfImAx6EH3906KmStHXZWJF6DImn3WueecfEG_SMvLSSqCg8YNYUQ2-CZpYI7YDggriOcFWrEh6Q/s1600/Everett+Lett+Virginia+Foster+Marriage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="244" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDGDI7pRSCaHjkDdXazz9fn62PmVx_kDD411TU4_J4mgv4jbj0KZVgNXCEaJf-S2RfImAx6EH3906KmStHXZWJF6DImn3WueecfEG_SMvLSSqCg8YNYUQ2-CZpYI7YDggriOcFWrEh6Q/s320/Everett+Lett+Virginia+Foster+Marriage.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I was overjoyed to find the marriage record of my grandparents online. Upon further review (raise eyebrows here), I was rather shocked at what I saw. Everett, my grandfather, is listed as being 26 years old in September of 1928. Actually, he was born in 1900, so he was 28. That's not the best part. My grandmother, Virginia, is listed as being 18 years old. She was born in November of 1913. You do the math.<br />
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It was already known in the family that Virginia was so young when she got married, however, we didn't know that they had given false information to get married.<br />
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Another interesting find is either they were married or their marriage record was filed on September 17 of that year. My mother was born on September 17 fourteen years later.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-27732782157189650992011-08-02T11:00:00.001-04:002011-08-03T14:28:19.319-04:00Tombstone Tuesday - Hilda P. Johnson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJLhO3gTSRI2rBjFBGj1tLJJHhd3Dy-DN7f6Ka50JL4ow5w_74dFQO05dykpq88DQvCZybSBIFX3w2o4gIkGwkaNNlXPhfbN0dNBtnImSaHZzvPMqStYLjrHBPVCC3NLe-Wx6-oASZsBs/s1600/Hilda+P.+Johnson.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJLhO3gTSRI2rBjFBGj1tLJJHhd3Dy-DN7f6Ka50JL4ow5w_74dFQO05dykpq88DQvCZybSBIFX3w2o4gIkGwkaNNlXPhfbN0dNBtnImSaHZzvPMqStYLjrHBPVCC3NLe-Wx6-oASZsBs/s320/Hilda+P.+Johnson.JPG" /></a></div><br />
The sweet lady who lived across the street from my family when I was a little girl, Hilda P. Johnson, was better known to us as "Gan gan". Having her around was like having another grandmother. I can still picture her setting up her drying rack over her furnace grate, wearing her kerchief on her head, her apron and her flowered houseshoes. She was the person who taught us our New Year's superstitions and to this day we make sure a male person crosses the threshold first.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-84429274126963898592011-07-28T10:39:00.001-04:002011-08-03T14:29:06.218-04:00Those Places Thursday - Burnwell, West Virginia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jWEyH3NKWmr4OdsqFc604ZC95zVgQc66iuAW2_8tKQOnkIVCzAa7tTt6738cqbF3owTsyksDYWqp-8tiFAh0TvWvfUl58n48M9eu-PRtDppEXZ912Xm0BISZlYfRjig_Xz94iuMgnA8/s1600/Burnwell+Coal+Camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="211" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jWEyH3NKWmr4OdsqFc604ZC95zVgQc66iuAW2_8tKQOnkIVCzAa7tTt6738cqbF3owTsyksDYWqp-8tiFAh0TvWvfUl58n48M9eu-PRtDppEXZ912Xm0BISZlYfRjig_Xz94iuMgnA8/s320/Burnwell+Coal+Camp.jpg" /></a></div>Photo from "Kanawha County Images, A Bicentennial History 1788-1988" by Stan Cohen<br />
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The coal mining town where my grandfather lived and worked, and where my mother was born.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-33655621220978614612011-07-27T08:57:00.001-04:002011-08-03T14:29:26.433-04:00Wordless Wednesday - Mother and daughter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWm5hFagKIGbKgvhIzp_F5b2wZ22WiV1lMQUNDnuNLZdmaaINmKrWT0JVxbz0HumjN6IGA5AA1K_yRwty4KkSy2hO4ubRwHOxOKJEkmhybGtMQKDlM2mBNwwpZJMoyfVEroHPpivp39ck/s1600/Cynthia+Morris+and+Lillian+Shiflett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWm5hFagKIGbKgvhIzp_F5b2wZ22WiV1lMQUNDnuNLZdmaaINmKrWT0JVxbz0HumjN6IGA5AA1K_yRwty4KkSy2hO4ubRwHOxOKJEkmhybGtMQKDlM2mBNwwpZJMoyfVEroHPpivp39ck/s320/Cynthia+Morris+and+Lillian+Shiflett.jpg" /></a></div><br />
My second great grandmother, Cynthia Morris Shiflett, and my great grand aunt, Lillian Shiflett. (Photo courtesy of Ancestry.com)BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-47306718749650250862011-07-26T10:40:00.001-04:002011-08-03T14:30:04.982-04:00Tombstone Tuesday - It pays to keep checking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pnZxPfqLeS5QsycFtt4VFF_CZOoSaTPQu1VJHXeW7s3EVdhl6JdlCceyLYyPLTfytRE3Ttsj-cUASwHoQVdUdVvK31HNtKqfXK8N-0CQctrL_YxD_vIEZRS2rlpn9F7OSwQapA3f-64/s1600/Charles+Lett+Victoria+Lett+tombstone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="214" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pnZxPfqLeS5QsycFtt4VFF_CZOoSaTPQu1VJHXeW7s3EVdhl6JdlCceyLYyPLTfytRE3Ttsj-cUASwHoQVdUdVvK31HNtKqfXK8N-0CQctrL_YxD_vIEZRS2rlpn9F7OSwQapA3f-64/s320/Charles+Lett+Victoria+Lett+tombstone.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I have checked numerous times on <a href="http://www.findagrave.com">Find a grave</a> for family members. Last year, my great-grandparents were not on there. Something told me to check again this morning and imagine my happy surprise at finding this photo.<br />
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Lesson learned? Keep checking back. People are adding new things to sites and you never know when a piece you've been looking for might appear.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-6354030324086507452011-07-25T09:01:00.001-04:002011-08-03T14:30:43.577-04:00Madness Monday - The case of the missing grandmother.....I remember my paternal grandmother.<br />
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She passed away when I was nine years old, but I remember being at her house, talking to her, visiting her when she was sick, attending her funeral. I can tell you what hymn was sung at the service. Her grave is a few plots over from my father's. <br />
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I say all of this because I can't find her in the death index. Her obituary is nowhere to be found in any of the online searches. <br />
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Thankfully, I have a card with a copy of the newspaper clipping, but it bothers me that I can't "find" her.<br />
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Mind you, I can't find her birth record, either, but I know she was born at home and have a copy of the family Bible.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5kjcRws8No70YoQrRzJ0TnoDADqnOBkT3BCHVwoeRIhaFKXLgoSZ4_UXQBTboWpcIuTbjp9ivZg0GBC8lcQHeP3T7m8rLXUAuuXf-K6_XWjtyHsNhegfthR03xu17vvzx6Rn3NhAnvs/s1600/Personal+162+25+percent.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5kjcRws8No70YoQrRzJ0TnoDADqnOBkT3BCHVwoeRIhaFKXLgoSZ4_UXQBTboWpcIuTbjp9ivZg0GBC8lcQHeP3T7m8rLXUAuuXf-K6_XWjtyHsNhegfthR03xu17vvzx6Rn3NhAnvs/s320/Personal+162+25+percent.JPG" /></a></div>BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-22123321245736560872011-07-21T09:47:00.001-04:002011-08-03T14:31:12.640-04:00Thrilling Thursday - FloodMy grandfather, Everett Lett, was a coal miner in Paint Creek, West Virginia. I've heard many stories over the years regarding life in a coal-mining town, however, the scariest I've ever heard was concerning a flood that hit the town when my aunts were toddlers.<br />
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The flood came up suddenly. My grandfather was coming from town with my Aunt Alice in tow. He came to a part of the creek where a man was on the other side, offering assistance. Everett had to make a quick decision and, in an attempt to save my aunt's life, tossed her across the creek to the man to insure her safety. He was planning to get back to the house and try to rescue the rest of his family.<br />
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My grandmother, Virginia, was home with my Aunt Betty. As the water rose, it started to fill the small house. Virginia, being only 18 years old herself, was terrified. She stood on furniture, holding my aunt in her arms, until the water rose too high for her to stay there. In a desperate moment, she climbed up and sat on the mantel of the fireplace, holding her little one around the waist. She knocked the picture off above the mantel, held on to the nail sticking out of the wall and stayed there all night until my grandfather was able to get to her.<br />
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My grandparents didn't find out until later the next day that my Aunt Alice was safe.<br />
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Years ago, a book was written about the flood. My Great-aunt Bertha, my Aunt Alice, and my Aunt Betty gave interviews. They also spoke to the man who caught Aunt Alice that night. In fact, a local paper had reunited them not long before. It had been the first time they had met since that horrific night. In the book, there is also a "lovely" sketch of my grandmother on the mantel with Aunt Betty.<br />
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The website I use for my West Virginia records has a brief story regarding the flood: <a href="http://www.wvculture.org/goldenseal/spring05/paintcreek.html">Paint Creek Flood of 1932</a>BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-71482905028992195122011-07-20T13:19:00.001-04:002011-07-21T08:48:07.456-04:00Wordless Wednesday - Isn't it appropriate my grandmother's name was Virginia...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRUyXVCCyhrrh4f0DxmDbhD25DM5z5aDg7Yq7U7ALu6jrlDcf_fhZ-PJzuFqvR7nBlzZRaEK7fH9m_RTO5TqTuRXNqAGFQQX25swrurKffTJxFIVPngucpqe0EyZT2xQjueJIoG0H-90/s1600/graph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRUyXVCCyhrrh4f0DxmDbhD25DM5z5aDg7Yq7U7ALu6jrlDcf_fhZ-PJzuFqvR7nBlzZRaEK7fH9m_RTO5TqTuRXNqAGFQQX25swrurKffTJxFIVPngucpqe0EyZT2xQjueJIoG0H-90/s320/graph.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7m4di6u-ym0ORSw8eu5IQtGhby3kJDcapOBOyJAaoMWr2khclZQ2xx6PSBm91apiVr_edbWLOEHUYi0wTNDc9Dify0WcsgFsn7HztViHPc1oD1z4_wuJuC-zdvoUEdL5FizDkhJq6y8/s1600/graph%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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</a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Birthplaces of my 16 great-great grandparents.</div>BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-10667622436866766722010-12-07T13:12:00.000-05:002010-12-07T13:12:03.371-05:00Advent Calendar - Dec 7 - Holiday PartiesI preface this by saying my mother is going to strangle me for posting this story.<br />
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When President Jimmy Carter was in office, a distant relative of ours lived in the D.C. area. She was very active in her church and called my mother to see if she would like to go with her ladies group to sign Christmas cards at the White House. My mom was thrilled!<br />
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As a thank you, the ladies were invited back to a special reception in their honor. They were able to tour the decorated rooms and have lunch while they were there. My mom was served a glass of punch and proceeded to go into a coughing fit. She didn't realize the punch had alcohol in it. A good bit of alcohol.<br />
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The server started patting her on the back, trying to help her catch her breath, but at the same time kept trying to offer her more punch, not realizing that was what started the whole mess!<br />
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We have a lovely photo album at home, with one of the Christmas cards, signed by the President and Mrs. Carter. There are pictures of the decorations, including Amy Carter's dollhouse.<br />
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Alas, there's no picture of Mom drinking punch.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-81300781486540686302010-12-07T13:04:00.001-05:002010-12-07T13:12:28.361-05:00Advent Calendar - Dec 6 - Santa ClausThere are pictures, of me, meeting Santa Claus.<br />
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I am screaming my lungs out.<br />
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Mind you, I was a little over one year old.<br />
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My favorite Santa Claus memory has more to do with a friend of mine and her family. Every year, she would have her two children leave cookies and milk for Santa before going to bed, like all good children do. In the morning, the milk would be half gone and the cookies reduced to crumbs. There were sooty footprints from the fireplace to the tree where presents would have magically appeared overnight. Reindeer prints were made in the backyard, if snow was back there.<br />
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But the best part of all? Santa would leave a note for the little ones.<br />
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The look on their faces when the note was read was worth every bit of getting up at 5 a.m. to be there with them when they got up. When they were younger, they were shocked at how Santa knew about achievements from the past year, as well as squabbles that had taken place between the two of them. He always left instructions for the year to come, as well.<br />
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Ok, so maybe I misjudged Santa when I met him. He sounds like a pretty good guy to me.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-52027734538100444472010-12-07T12:50:00.001-05:002010-12-07T13:12:48.413-05:00Advent Calendar - Dec 5 - Outdoor DecorationsAs a little girl, my family would take a drive to the next county over and visit the Cecil County Christmas Tree. I remember ornaments as big as basketballs and a tree so tall, you couldn't build a house high enough to hold it. So in lieu of MY outdoor decorations, I share with you: <a href="http://www.cecilhollytree.com/">Cecil Holly Tree</a>BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-1969180625811435782010-12-07T12:46:00.000-05:002010-12-07T12:46:41.435-05:00Advent Calendar - Dec 4 - Christmas CardsEven though it's been ages since I've sent out regular Christmas cards (thank you email!), I love receiving them. Especially ones from friends with photos, or even better, letters.<br />
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Yes, I'm one of "those" people.<br />
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I love when I get a letter from someone telling me what's happened in their lives, and their family, over the past year. Life is so busy these days that a lot of everyday events miss being shared, especially when you don't see some friends due to distance. It's sweet to hear the pride in a mom's voice as she tells you about her child graduating or getting married, or that a grandchild came to visit for the summer!<br />
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I have, on occasion, sent one of these Christmas updates via email and was amazed at the responses I received. Friends who I haven't heard from in years were emailing back, asking about specific events or inquiring about something that wasn't mentioned. It was a great re-connecting agent, if you will. <br />
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In other words, if you're short on people to send a card to, or have an urge to send a Holiday Letter, feel free to drop one in my inbox!BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-66437971573343384852010-12-03T09:54:00.000-05:002010-12-03T09:54:40.669-05:00Advent Calendar - Dec 3 - Christmas Tree OrnamentsOver the years, my family has amassed a rather large collection of ornaments. Some were there before I was born, brought from Christmases in Chicago. Others are craft projects by me or my sister, fashioned in school or church, and looking more worn every year they've been drug out of the box.<br />
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You can look into the boxes and tell what we've collected over the years. Churches, pineapples, and lighthouses for Mom. Penguins for my sister. Soccer and baseball for my nephews. Barbies, angels, pigs, snow globes and Starbucks for me.<br />
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Some ornaments show places we've been: Chicago, Las Vegas, Williamsburg, Myrtle Beach, and more.<br />
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Others are from friends who have traveled and thought of us.<br />
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There are fragile, hand-blown ornaments that get hung at the very top, for fear of being bumped off the tree and broken, and then there are those that are safe to be on the bottom branches, even if the cat decides to play with them.<br />
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You can usually tell which of us decorated the tree by what ornaments make it to the tree, and which ones get left behind in the boxes. Some years we've set up a second tree in the family room to put the more fun, pop-culture type ornaments on it. <br />
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Every year we say that we're not going to put all of them out, and yet, not including certain ornaments feels like you aren't remembering the sentiment it represents. Therefore, there are always more on the tree than originally planned, and yet, still plenty more in the boxes that could be displayed.<br />
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Maybe we need three trees this year.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-83915750602257855022010-12-02T23:45:00.003-05:002010-12-03T09:40:27.250-05:00Advent Calendar - Dec 2 - Holiday FoodsI think my most vivid memory of food in regards to Christmas is that the women were always afraid there wouldn't be enough and yet it seemed to last a week.<br />
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When we celebrated at home, the table was so crowded that you barely had room for your plate and silverware. You had to watch your arm movements or you'd end up with an elbow in the gravy!<br />
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Some years we would go to a family friend's house for Christmas dinner. There were so many people that we ate in shifts. Usually the men ate first since the women were still working on things and, of course, so they could watch football. The women would eat second and take a more leisurely approach, chatting about family events that had happened over the year and catching up with each other. This would of course develop into the ladies cleaning up while the men were in the living room, mostly dozing.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-26223109516829507442010-12-01T09:24:00.001-05:002010-12-01T12:29:42.996-05:00Advent Calendar - Dec 1 - The Christmas TreeFor some reason, we've always had some sort of drama surrounding our Christmas trees.<br />
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When I was young, around 4 or 5, my father, sister and I were disassembling our artificial tree. It was the kind where the pole in the center was made of wood and the branches were twisted metal at the base. I was eager to do more than just put the pieces in the box, so I begged to help pull the branches out of the tree. I came across one branch that didn't want to release itself. I braced myself and pulled with all my might. The branch came loose and the tip went right into my face, about an inch under my right eye. My father came over and was assessing the damage when my sister said, "I'll get the peroxide!". That was when I started screaming.<br />
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The scar has mostly faded, but I still take every opportunity I can to remind her that she was what made me cry that day, not the injury!<br />
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Another story I've heard, but don't remember for myself, has to do with us getting a real tree that was too big for our living room. My father trimmed it, but not enough, so that when he went to set the tree upright in it's stand, it put a small hole in our ceiling.<br />
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The most recent adventure we had with a real tree was in 1988 when I was home from college for the holidays. My mother, sister and I went to a farm to select a tree. This place had the option of cutting or digging your tree. As we trudged through the snow, staying close together to try to keep warm, my sister and I noticed that Mom had "disappeared". We turned around to find her on the ground. She had tripped over a hole where someone had dug a tree and the snow had covered it over. That injury led to Mom needing surgery a few months later. Whenever we even consider getting a live tree, one of us will bring up our last trip to the Christmas tree farm and the suggestion quickly fades away.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-87103030641085580122010-11-22T14:27:00.001-05:002010-11-22T14:31:07.521-05:00Mobile Monday - What to do with a week offEvery year I take a week of annual leave for my birthday. Some years I need it more than others, such as this year. After all, I did turn 40 and that requires some reflection.<br />
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Oddly enough, my trepidation about getting older didn't stop me from doing a little graveyard research.<br />
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One of the joys of modern technology is that, even though I didn't plan ahead and take my camera, my Blackberry was all the camera I needed to capture images of tombstones.<br />
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Can't get the information clearly with a picture? No worries, I texted the name, birth date, and death date to my email address. Another option would have been to use the address/contacts feature and store the information.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-21756307292380998722010-11-10T16:21:00.003-05:002010-11-22T14:30:25.137-05:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiek6wEgCx8Y_W968hqAU5PGIul0Togu4XJ4PVems3bmkVsrEsA_GmxGHEIUIA7JLEtVFxs4Cd_LHBdKdv3gPerJXz_qdcXXFw0_bUHaZFplOaKjgMr8BVYfeAy5CXGdyRFZwzEhLpYWbw/s1600/Personal+181+25+percent.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiek6wEgCx8Y_W968hqAU5PGIul0Togu4XJ4PVems3bmkVsrEsA_GmxGHEIUIA7JLEtVFxs4Cd_LHBdKdv3gPerJXz_qdcXXFw0_bUHaZFplOaKjgMr8BVYfeAy5CXGdyRFZwzEhLpYWbw/s320/Personal+181+25+percent.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-49687043525351589772010-10-26T11:08:00.001-04:002010-11-22T14:30:15.355-05:00Tombstone Tuesday - A tale of two Helens...I've run into an issue when researching my grandmother. See if you can figure it out from these pics:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0avaVm6vdeNbYGYcjrqSjtYNjiVM3Ciph2f7-tKoElp7p-uZGrWopi9-t_nt9tT6jeR9ATvTKCBngHNz0Z0hI1P68zRti7h2UFuTGq6AoDmc5w7GQvVLL2tC5Q4tzjYRRWL0JwrMumWY/s1600/Personal+162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0avaVm6vdeNbYGYcjrqSjtYNjiVM3Ciph2f7-tKoElp7p-uZGrWopi9-t_nt9tT6jeR9ATvTKCBngHNz0Z0hI1P68zRti7h2UFuTGq6AoDmc5w7GQvVLL2tC5Q4tzjYRRWL0JwrMumWY/s320/Personal+162.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK1403SJH9S8DEv0Fd-uy_bvxEV1JPI3gsMWiVfpNSM7Z0EqznCNWS7C1TWuOImvDs9GfiZmuUbxpN9morfIymCTqpclPA5f_1cl-KLPjUyON6CxyIs7MHxY8UtIg0fBSesbSJtJE_swQ/s1600/Personal+180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK1403SJH9S8DEv0Fd-uy_bvxEV1JPI3gsMWiVfpNSM7Z0EqznCNWS7C1TWuOImvDs9GfiZmuUbxpN9morfIymCTqpclPA5f_1cl-KLPjUyON6CxyIs7MHxY8UtIg0fBSesbSJtJE_swQ/s320/Personal+180.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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The Helen Meadows on the first stone is my grandmother. The Helen Meadows on the second stone is the lady my grandfather married after my grandmother passed. Needless to say, it's thrown a wrench into my research. For example, I can't find my grandmother's death record. The "other Helen" keeps popping up. It looks like I need to roll up my sleeves, get out my magnifying glass and do some digging!BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-15691138706264323892010-10-21T11:27:00.001-04:002010-11-22T14:29:50.007-05:00Those Places Thursday - Baltimore, MarylandI've always associated my father's side of the family with the state of Virginia. It never occurred to me that my family might have been in Maryland before I was born. Funny enough, according to my father's birth certificate, he was born in Baltimore, and upon further investigating, my great-grandfather's draft registration card for World War II had his address as Baltimore.<br />
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I've been going through old pictures and keep going back to one of my grandparents and my father when he was a toddler. They are standing on a sidewalk, my father barely as tall as my grandfather's knee, and there are "row homes" behind them. I wasn't sure where the picture was taken, if it was their home or a relative's, and if they were standing in front of the house or in the backyard.<br />
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A couple of weeks ago, my brain finally put the two pieces together. I did a search for the address on my great-grandfather's draft card and was lucky enough to find a map where I could zoom in and look at the street view of the houses. When I rotated the street view to the houses on the opposite side of the street, my heart stopped. There were the houses that were in the background of my picture. They've been updated, but the main structures still look the same. My grandparents had been visiting my great-grandfather that day, with my father. I'm left wondering who took the picture; was it my great-grandfather?<br />
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So now I'm left readjusting my mindset. My father's family weren't just in Virginia, they were in Maryland way before I was born.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-67452891930542127112010-09-09T14:26:00.001-04:002010-11-22T14:28:44.054-05:00Treasure Chest Thursday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPDJCq8TkBRGPyblqyNmO4AQceyx1yPWmZgrNWdFzL1mWE-j1yv2NA7UTxHwlTlnniHFk02CoNsofgZQffXK3YJTnMWGPD8RvYRWFsGVmKIXP0Q7z_Anu9EcS01enE27zZXARocJPtkio/s1600/Marriage+Record+Lemuel+Lett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPDJCq8TkBRGPyblqyNmO4AQceyx1yPWmZgrNWdFzL1mWE-j1yv2NA7UTxHwlTlnniHFk02CoNsofgZQffXK3YJTnMWGPD8RvYRWFsGVmKIXP0Q7z_Anu9EcS01enE27zZXARocJPtkio/s320/Marriage+Record+Lemuel+Lett.jpg" /></a></div>In an attempt to find information on my mother's side of the family, I searched for the library system from her hometown. Not long after I sent an email to their "contact us" area, I received a lovely email pointing me to a website.<br />
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<a href="http://www.wvculture.org/vrr/">http://www.wvculture.org/vrr/</a><br />
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I have found so many birth, death, and marriage records on that site and have had so many blanks filled in that I indeed consider that a great treasure!BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3012278965102533203.post-49062190579044359292010-09-07T15:21:00.001-04:002010-11-22T14:28:09.728-05:00A new branchI've always been interested in my family history and have recently started working on my family tree past the first few generations. Needless to say, I've unearthed some interesting information as well as some unexpected connections.<br />
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To be truthful, I have blogged before so this isn't an entirely new adventure, however, the topic is still somewhat new to me.<br />
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I have a friend that shares this obsession/passion with me and is my genealogy mentor. She is a wonderful person who puts up with my random remarks of "Deb, you'll never guess who I'm related to!" You can find a link to her blog on my page. <br />
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Please know that I realize I do not know everything about genealogy and I welcome any comments, suggestions, gentle nudges, and the like.BookChickJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03872525578217565738noreply@blogger.com2