Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Kevin's Story, Part 7

The ancestry question is looming.  I now have a list with 22 names on it.  I remember my Aunt Marion and Uncle Henry were really into genealogy research.  They only visited a couple times as I was growing up.  When they did my Uncle Henry would get up early Sunday morning and say “you ready to go”  Off to church we would go.  Only a few times in my life had I seen a man have such a love of the Lord.  Not the going to church ‘cause he has to kinda guy, the kind that is just so positive about the Lords love for us.  He had a profound effect on the rest of my life.  (A different story)  Anyway Uncle Henry would take me to breakfast after church.

Twenty five years go by and I travel to Texas to work at Bell Helicopter.  My Aunt and Uncle do not live far away so I decide to look them up.  I visit with them for four hours and ten minutes, four hours of which they show me the family tree they have been working on.  They are so excited because they just found a long lost family member.  They take me into the hobby room, which has every horizontal surface lined with family tree pages.  A file cabinet full of paper, and stories of trips they have taken to find stuff.  They devoted years to the project, It’s all coming back to me.

Fifteen years go by and I’m thinking, I’ll just give them a call.  Not in the book.  411 no help.  I have no idea how to contact anyone on that side of the family.

To be continued . . .

Monday, May 9, 2011

Kevins Story, Part 6

We made it to California in a week not a day.  Family history?  Hold your britches.  (That’s what they used to tell me.  Not sure why.  I assumed it meant wait a minute.)  What did I know about the family?  I am trying to remember stories.  My parents have been gone for 10 years, and I can’t remember yesterday.

Okay I remember my Dad grew up on a farm in Iowa.  I think the name was something simple, Jones or Brown.  He was farmed out a lot of his childhood because his parents split up when he was about five.  My Mom would tell me that when he was growing up he worked hard even at his young age.  A typical Christmas morning for my Dad was up at the crack of dawn (that’s how they talked then), get the chores done, and get back to the house to celebrate Christmas.  My Dad would have to go upstairs until the family finished with there Christmas celebration, and then he would get to come down and have Christmas dinner with them.

My Mom’s story is way better.  Remember she was born on Christmas day.  Christmas was a huge celebration for her growing up.  Even though she lost her Mom when she was seven, Christmas was always great.  Think of it this way.  The whole family gets together to go to midnight mass.  As they come out of the church, happy birthday Maggie.  (They didn’t call her Maggie, but I didn’t want you to get lost.)  How many kids get a happy birthday one hour into it?  Not only that but, every one comes over on your birthday.  And everybody brings something.  A cherry pie for your birthday.  A ham, mashed potatoes, a huge feast for your birthday.  No one gets treatment like this on there birthday.

Oh yeah, that ancestry question.  Got sidetracked, I have to start with my Aunt and Uncle.  If you look up Genealogist in the dictionary you will most likely find there picture.

To be continued . . .

Monday, May 2, 2011

Monument Monday: Bunker Hill Monument on the Accessible Archives Blog

Monument Monday: Bunker Hill Monument on the Accessible Archives Blog

Kevins Story, Part 5

I am the oldest of five children.  One brother is no longer with us.  My brother called and asked if I could help his daughter with a family history project that she was working on for school.  “Sure” So he asks the question and I have a blank stare.  You would think the oldest would know something.  Who gave you that idea?
“I’ll get back to you!”  Not the answer my niece was looking for.  Where do I start.  I remember on my mother side there were three brothers, a sister, my grand fathers name, and his second wife.  On my fathers side, there was a brother that died fighting so we could be free, and a sister.  I remember his mother, her husband, and my grand father.  Where do I start.  I really have no information but there are people on both sides of my family that have been doing research into family history.  How do I get in touch with them?

In 1959 we migrated west.  I remember a 1959 Ford station wagon.  You could fold down all the seats in the back and that left just enough room for your legs to hang down, and your face to be level and right between mom and dad in the front seat.  Bangor Maine to Wilmington California, I’m thinking we should be there by dinner.  Super highway’s, not yet.  Fancy hotels, dreamer.  Air conditioned car, what is that?  Views straight over the cliff on the right side of the car?  “Fathaaa, you are to close!!”  Two lane roads over the summit.  That’s one lane that way and one lane your way.  Four year olds don’t remember how hot it is thankfully.  My mother never forgot.

To be continued . . .