Tintype Treasures

I was in downtown Milwaukee today with my mom and cousins, Teri and Jim. All of us love old houses, antiques, and history.
We decided to stop at this little antique shop on Washington and Water St. It was a very nicely set up store with some pretty unique things.
They had tons of old portrait style pictures. I always feel bad for the homeless pictures. I can't help wondering we're their families are and why they aren't in some box in the attic instead.
I was contemplating the purchase of one such homeless portrait when I stumbled on a small pile of tintypes. At least I was pretty sure they were tintypes. To be honest, I'd never seen one before.
So of course I had to find out how this whole process worked.
The tintype was also known as a melainotype or ferrotype. It was made by producing a direct positive onto a thin sheet of iron that was then blacked by paint, lacquer, or enamel.
These photos were pretty resilient. They could be produced in a few minutes and took virtually no drying time. Makes me think of Polaroids actually. My sister and I had one of those cameras when we were kids.
They came from France and we're patented in 1856 in the US. Of course, they were most popular during the Civil War (1861- 1865). Photographers used to travel around and work outside carnivals and fairs.
The iron plates were cut in different sizes. The gem size was about 1"X1". These ones that I have are known as "Bonton" size. Its a 1/6 cut plate (about 2 3/8"X3 1/2"). The cuts aren't straight either as they were cut by hand.
The little girl's name is Jenni. Its written lightly on the back. I almost missed it. Looking at each of them, I can put together a story in my mind.  I just have a feeling they're all from the same family. Of course that also meant I couldn't bear to split them up.
They're very unique. I've decided to adopt them as part my own family and look for something to display them in. I absolutely love them and hope to find more.

NaNoWriMo and Nana

 This is my grandma, Rose. I call her Nana, and since I am the oldest grandchild, everyone else calls her Nana too. We just celebrated her 80th birthday! I spent a lot of time at Nana and Papa's house when I was growing up. And I remember a lot of different things, but one of my strongest memories would have to be listening to her stories.

We used to sit on the rocking chair and she would make up all kinds of stories. Usually they were about a little girl named Katie. And somewhere along the way, there would be sugar cookies in the story (and in real life). Nana's sugar cookies are the best!

I really believe that any writing ability I have must have been passed on through her. No one in my family likes to write stories as much as I do, except for Nana. Which brings me to NaNoWriMo.

Weird name, don't you think? It stands for National Novel Writing Month. Tens of thousands of novelists get together every year and try their best to write a novel in one month. And when I say novel, I mean 50,000 words.

Uh huh.

Fifty Thousand Words (that's about 250 pages)!

 And anyone can join. Whole elementary, middle, and high school classes join, as well as professional and amateur writers.

I wonder if she ever told stories to her younger brothers.

I've been writing stories for as long as I can remember. Seriously, I remember sitting with Nana at the kitchen table and illustrating a Bible story on pieces of paper. I'm pretty sure it was Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus. We stapled it together and TA DA! a book was created.

But I've never tried something like this before. Sure, I've written more. I have a few stories that are more than 700 pages. It's the space of 30 days that's intimidating.

So here are a few things I've learned that will hopefully help me attain my goal...

1. Keep it simple. My plot could literally be a Hallmark movie. That's what I was trying for and I'm really excited to start it.

2. Plan. Plan. Plan. Makes me think of teaching. You can never plan too much. The more you know ahead of time, the more the ideas will flow from your brain to your fingers.

3. Type fast. Lock up your inner-editor and get the words out. Edit later.

4. Dedicate some time every day until you reach your goal. I type about 2,000 words in an hour (give or take). If I do that each day, I can have 50,000 by November 25.

5. Try doing a marathon on a Saturday. Sit for 2, 5, 10, 15 hours...whatever you can sit for and just keep writing.

6. Have an awesome person in your corner rooting for you. I've got Nana. I told her all about it the other night and she's excited to read it when it's finished.

So if you're inspired to try out NaNoWriMo, please check it out at www.nanowrimo.org It starts November 1st, which means you've still got 9 days to plan. Happy writing!

Blazer: The Other Son

My grandpa, Merrill Hunt Jr, loved pets. He especially loved dogs. He went hunting from the time he was a kid which usually meant he had at least one hunting dog. The proof is in the pictures. But there was one dog in particular that was more than just a dog. 

His name of Blazer. I remember him well. I was...maybe 5 when he died, but I've always formed attachments with animals easily. And since I was over at Nana and Papa's house so often, that wasn't hard to do with Blazer. He was a good dog. Completely spoiled rotten, but I loved him. 

I remember the day he died pretty vividly. Papa was heartbroken. He stood in the bathroom and cried for what seemed like hours. Not even my stuffed dog, Dozo, could cheer him up. That memory of Blazer is actually the strongest for me. But everyone in my family has their own stories of him. My mom's is by far the funniest. 

Blazer wasn't even Papa's dog at first. My Uncle Merrill had bought him for a hunting dog. He was part beagle and part coon hound. He was stubborn and he had crazy eyes. My mom will tell you it wasn't just the eyes. The whole dog was crazy and this is why...

My grandparents had gone on a trip to Hawaii. My mom was working the night shift at the hospital. My uncle was away at college and Blazer (who Papa had adopted as a second son by this time) was home. Everything started out just fine. My mom would go to work at night and come home to sleep during the day. Nothing strange there.

But not too long after Nana and Papa had left, Blazer started to get lonely. Any pet can get lonely without their human, especially dogs. Even my cats get lonely if I'm gone too long. Some dogs howl or bark. Some get into cupboards or find a shoe to destroy. 

Blazer took it to the extreme.

And here's the thing. He wasn't really alone. My mom was there during the day. 

Apparently that didn't matter...at least not to the dog. 

It started when she came home one day. He had started by tearing things up around the house. He had gotten into the cupboards and rolled canned food everywhere. Anything from the lower cupboards had been pulled out and scattered around the kitchen. And he had gotten into a huge bag of onions and chewed them up and spit them all over. 

It wouldn't have been too big of a deal, except that my mom really needed to get some sleep during the day if she was going to be able to function at night as a nurse. Cleaning up was going to be annoying more than anything. 

But it got worse. Walking from the kitchen into the living room, she saw that he had destroyed the drapes too. When she went to pick up the phone, it had no dial tone cause he had chewed up all the chords there too. 

My mom cleaned up and called her brother to come and get the dog. He didn't want to, but knowing she needed sleep, she convinced him to drive down and get him. He brought him back the next day with horror stories of him eating the apartment there.

My Great Aunt Mary agreed to take him. After all, how bad could one lonely dog be? But remember those crazy eyes? Poor Blazer had snapped. He was desperately lonely for Papa. Even Aunt Mary and Uncle Dale couldn't take him more than a day or two. 

The next best thing they could think of was to get him tranquilizers from the vet. They needed something to calm him down until Nana and Papa got back. He would have destroyed the entire place. He very nearly had already. So, my mom gave him the tranquilizers. Wouldn't you know, even that didn't knock him out completely. 

He would nod off for a few minutes, then wake up with a growl and attack the blanket he was lying on, making sure to rip out a good sized chunk. Then he'd fall asleep again for a few moments more before waking up again to attack the blanket again. 

I don't know how my mom managed it, but she made it through. When my grandparents came home, mom told them everything that happened. And Papa, defending the dog said, "How could you medicate him? He was just lonely." 

That was my Papa.

This is your life Etta Ida (part 1)

 Etta Ida Meinhardt was my great grandmother. For her 80th birthday party, some of the family got together and wrote out part of her life's story. They called it "This is your life Etta Ida". I've read it dozens of times. It's hysterical. I should really type it out again (once I find it). Well, in the same tradition, I'm going to write about Etta. Though she passed away just after I was a year old, I recognize a kindred spirit in the stories I've been told.

What I've learned most is that she had a personality that was larger than life. This is going to take a few posts.

Etta Ida Luebben was born April 6, 1897 to Fredericka (nee Messing) and Johann Elits Luebben. She was the youngest of six with three brothers (Peter, Frank, and Lewis) and two sisters (Lena and Louise). She grew up in Toledo, Ohio.

Some of the oldest pictures we have of her have been damaged by tape. I've done my best to restore them on my own. If there was a moral to this story, it would be NEVER EVER use tape on pictures. It eats the photo. Still, I've decided I might as well share them here. Wasn't she adorable? And I can imagine quite mischievous.

Her father passed away when she was eight. When she was a teenager, she and her mother moved in with her recently married sister, Louise, her husband, and their new baby. Grandma was working at a glove factory when she met Ernest Meinhardt through mutual friends. He lived on a farm in MI but not farm from Toledo. Back then there were commuter trains that ran.

The story goes that he used to drive the wagon to the stop and catch a train going into Toledo. Meanwhile, Etta would sneak out of work and meet up with him. They'd go to matinees or just run around Toledo. If Ernest was late getting back, the horse would head home without him and he'd have to walk.

It gets better though. When Etta was 19 and Ernest 20, he got it into his head to adopt her. His reasoning was so that he could get her out of that house with her "awful sister". Poor Louise has been painted the villain when in reality she was probably just a stressed out new mother with a younger sister who ran a little wild. I know for a fact that they had a good relationship, at least later in life. If they hadn't, there wouldn't be so many pictures of them together.

Anyway, Ernest (who was only a year older) took Etta off to the courthouse in Monroe, MI. They met Judge Frank in his offices and Ernest explained what his plans were. Judge Frank had a little more wisdom and asked Ernest "Are you planning on marrying her?"

Ernest replied with a yes, to which Judge Frank said "Well, why not just marry her now?" So they got married instead.

That part has me in stitches every time! When I was younger, I always thought he was so much older than her, but they were only a year apart. What in the world they had been thinking, I have no idea.  The story continues that they went dancing somewhere, but Louise and the rest of the family descended on the Meinhardt family farm demanding his head.

Etta in 6th grade (4th from the left)

One of their friends crawled along the porch and heard the whole thing so he ran off to warn them not to come home until it was safe. Obviously they came home eventually and it seems the family got over the apparent injustice of Ernest stealing Etta away.

With Frank and Lewis (on the far left)

When I think of a "happily ever after" couple, I actually don't think princes and princesses and fairy tales. I think of couples like them. Grandma never remarried after Grandpa passed away. She always said that no one would ever measure up to her Ernie. They were truly a pair of soul mates.

They lived in Toledo for a time. Ernest drove a milk wagon and they lived in an apartment complex with a few other young couples. They didn't have much money to go out and this was the early 1900's. Television was not a thing even if radio was. So, when they had nothing to do, they would play hide and seek with the other couples.

Hide and seek? Really? Yup, I'm completely serious. It sounds crazy, but I can imagine it. They would have found it as fun as rolling up the rugs and dancing.

Their first son, Melvin Ernest was born in 1917. Laura Irma followed in 1920. They had ten children altogether, but that's for another time. I'll leave you here for now, but stay tuned for more stories. I'll be writing about her again.

An Ocean Away...

 

 I was hesitant to work on this particular post for a few different reasons. One reason, being that these are my grandparents. That's close when you're considering generations. Another was simply that I knew their basic story, but I was worried about getting something wrong. I've decided to just go with it and I'll make changes later if needed.

Another reason, could possibly be that for the life of me, I always spell the names wrong. Of course, since I've been working on a family tree to hang in my parents' house, I have things written down.

So, that being said, these are my father's parents. Liselotte Brauninger and Sigmund Koch. This picture was taken shortly before they left for America.

Yup, you heard that correctly. My grandparents were the immigrants. I am a second generation American on my father's side. It's really pretty cool when you think about it. Most people, even those looking for their ancestors, don't have such close connections to the countries their families came from. I still have cousins and aunts and uncles in Germany. I've been to see some of them twice. Some of them have come to visit us in the States.

Here's some of the things I know. Sigmund was born August 8, 1914. He was the youngest of three sons and from what I understand, he was the youngest by quite a few years. The Koch family owned both a farm and a saw mill near Bad Waldsee, Germany.

Liselotte was born February 23, 1927. She grew up in a town nearby and worked at the Koch farm. She was the second oldest of 10 children. The area that they grew up in is located in the southwestern part of the country, a region known as Swabia. It's one of the prettiest parts of the country and what I always think of when I think of Germany.

According to the history that I've learned, we consider the start of World War II as September 1, 1939 when Germany invaded Poland. By the 3rd, Britain and France had declared war. This changed things for many people, including my grandparents. My grandpa served as a soldier in the German Army. I have always been told that his job was to act as a guard in the town and guard prisoners of war sent to work on their farm.

My grandmother told lots of stories. I've never been able to keep them all straight. She did however mention working in a factory and burning her arm on purpose so that she didn't have to work there anymore. This story came up most often, so I remember it best. What hits me the hardest is the fact that Sigmund was only 25 in 1939. Liselotte was only 12. I have no doubt that growing up in this time and place had some bearing on the choices they made, including coming to live in a country, an ocean away from their family, and with a language they didn't even know.

May 3, 1945 Germany signed an unconditional surrender. The war, at least officially, was over. I'm not sure exactly what went on between 1945 and 1951 for my grandparents. I'm sure there are some people still living that might be able to tell me, but the most important thing to know is that they were married and made the decision to immigrate to America.

They packed their things in trunks that my grandpa had made with wood from the saw mill. They left their home and traveled to Rotterdam. They left there July 31, 1951 on a Holland-America ship and were admitted to the US in New York on August 8. This picture was taken on the ship and below is a part of their passport.

They settled in Erie, MI and later moved to a small farm in Ida. They had six children, my dad being the oldest. He looks the most like my grandpa. And he speaks Schwabisch (the dialect my grandparents spoke in their region) better than the others. It helps that that's all they spoke at home until he went to school. It might take him a few minutes, but it always comes back. He might not realize it but I've traveled with him over there and I've watched him slide into it so naturally that he forgets he's speaking it when he turns to talk to me.

Sigmund passed away in June of 1971, eleven years before I was born. I'm sad that I never knew him, but I've heard lots of stories and that helps. I'll save those for another time. Meanwhile, I'll continue to keep in touch with as many of the relatives that still live in Germany. I've met so many others through social media like Facebook and have gotten to know more about their lives through the things they share there.

Back to School

Did you think I was never coming back? I was beginning to wonder, myself. It's been a hectic few weeks as I've been getting my own classroom ready for the beginning of the year.

This picture by Normal Rockwell cracks me up. I love how the kids are sitting so straight and still. That never happens! At least not in my school. But I love them anyway.

I got thinking about school as I was planning this post. (Yeah, I think through what I'm going to write ahead of time. Usually. Sometimes. Ok, just this one.)

And I remembered an old clipping from the newspaper I found with the old pictures. It was a about the Bullock School. From what my Grandma was telling me, all of her older brothers and sisters went there.

Here's a picture of the inside of it in 1939. It's hard to make out all of the faces. I should probably check it out on the microfilm and get a better copy made.

Can you imagine teaching in a one room school house? A friend of mine did and I have to say, I don't think it's for me. Of course I teach in the city with 30 students just in my first grade and I know that's not for everyone either.

We had Enrollment Night the other night. While I dread this evening (it marks the final crazy countdown to the first day of school), I love it too. If you're a teacher, then you know that any child that walks through your door becomes your kid. And sure enough, even those 3rd graders (my first class here) stop down and see me. They remember what it was like 2 years ago when they were first graders. They laugh at memories or oooh and aaah at the changes I've made. They're super excited to tell their younger siblings all about me.

Makes me wonder what it'll be like 20 years from now.

Martin and Anna Waldvogel

My third great grandfather, Johann Martin Waldvogel was from the small town of Stetten, Switzerland. He was born November 29, 1830.

Anna Waldvogel was born July 30, 1830. She grew up in the same small town.

When I say small town, I mean pretty tiny. If you're from the Monroe area, I'd say it's comparable to Ida, MI. Stetten is right on the border of Switzerland and Germany. When I was in Europe around 2008, we stopped there just to see it. As we trace our family history on this line, we see the same three names pop up. In Stetten, there are only about 4 family names that populate the area.

I think it's safe to say that this was the highlight of the trip for my mom. I've mentioned it before, but there's something amazing about traveling to the places you know your ancestors once were. And then to see Ehrat, Bucher and Waldvogel over and over on the headstones in the local cemetery...so cool. (Anna's mother's maiden name was Ehrat. Martin's mother's maiden name was Bucher. If you were wondering about that connection.)

Anna and Martin were probably cousins. They didn't come to America until 1872. They would have been about 42 then. Here's where I have to do some supposing. Why would they come to America?

From what records we've found, it looks like they lost quite a few children to sickness in Switzerland. Not just babies, but older children as well. I'm going to suppose that they figured they didn't have anything else to loose. Why not come to America? Thank goodness they did, or Rose might never have been born and then where would I be?

They came over on a steamer ship called the "City of Limerick". It left from France October 9, 1872. It belonged to the Inman Line, one of the three largest British passenger ship lines of the 19th century. (Cunard and White Star where the other two. Fun Fact: White Star Lines were the owners of the Titanic.)

I can't find a record of Martin on that ship, though I do find Anna and number of her children. It was always told that Martin came over ahead of the rest of the family to find a job and a place for them to live. Entirely possible.

They settled in the Toledo, OH. My great great grandmother, Rose, was their youngest child. She was born in Toledo.

Martin is listed in the Toledo city directory in 1879 as working in a saloon. I wonder if he was a bar tender?

We know he farmed some too. Most likely he took a job where he could find one. He passed away of chronic pneumonia, March 5, 1898.

Anna lived with Rose and her family until her death, January 12, 1915. She was 84. It makes me think about Rose and her life again. When I look at the dates, I realize that not only was she a widow with 5 small children, but she had her elderly mother living with them as well. Wow!

Both Martin and Anna are buried at Hitchcock Cemetery in Temperance, MI.

Border Town

 I grew up in Monroe, MI. It's about Twenty minutes from Toledo, OH. Growing up in this area, you never thought it was strange to venture into Ohio for any number of things. That's one of the cool things about growing up on a border.

Of course, for a genealogist, this can complicate things a bit. My family lived most of their lives in the Monroe County, particularly the townships of Bedford and LaSalle. From the map, you can see how close that is to Ohio.

Did you know that vital records (birth, marriage, and death records) stay in the county that the event happened? I think I knew that, but it was confirmed after I stopped at the Monroe County Courthouse the other day. I had gone looking for the death records of a few specific people, plus anyone else I happened to run across.

I stumbled on Henry Meinhardt Sr. He died in 1906. His son, Henry Jr. died just a few months before in a fire. But I couldn't find him in the records anywhere. The County Clerk's office had some very helpful people, including one guy who agreed that Henry Jr had probably been taken to Toledo for treatment of his burns. Which means his records would be down there instead. Oh well, guess I'll just have to make a trip down there sometime. At least it isn't clear across the country.

While I was doing research on a few pictures, I found some other interesting things about Monroe County. Do you see that little house symbol on the map? There's an arrow pointing to it that says Michigan Welcome Center and under that, Toledo Beach.

Toledo Beach opened in the early 1900's and didn't close until the 1950's. People from Detroit, Toledo, and Monroe flocked there in the summers. It was a place to swim (and slide), dance (there was a pavilion), and eat. Apparently there was a restaurant that specialized in seafood and chicken.

 The bathhouse featured 300 rooms and you could rent bathing attire to go swimming for the day. You can see the dock that stretched out into Lake Erie in this postcard. Swimming for women at this time usually involved holding onto a rope tied to a buoy farther out and being able to jump in the waves. Of course their suits were more like dresses then. They were usually made out of wool and used 9 yards of fabric or more.                                                                

Toledo Beach also featured a wooden slide. I couldn't find any information telling how high it was, but from this picture, I'd say it was pretty good size.

You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all about this place. Part of the reason I love searching for my ancestors is because I want to know what life was like for them. I want to know where they went, what they did, and how they met people.    

My great grandpa, Ernest Meinhardt grew up in the Bedford Township area of Monroe County. My great grandma Etta Luebben grew up in the city of Toledo. I have stories of their courtship, but I've never found out how they initially met. Could they have met here? It's entirely possible.

On the right is a picture of Etta's family. (Left to Right: Fredricka, Lena, Irma, and Louise) You can see clearly that they were at Toledo Beach in 1914. Though Etta isn't pictured here, she would have been 17 that year. 

The picture on the left is Ernest Meinhardt in his first pair of long pants It's more difficult to see, but in the upper right hand corner it says, Toledo Beach 1913. He was 17 here.

How many other memories did Etta, Ernest and their families have of this place? It makes me wonder. 

Daughters of the American Revolution

Have you seen Who Do You Think You Are? It's on TLC now. I love that show. It's one thing to search for information on the internet. It's something totally different to take a road trip and follow your ancestors across the country. I got a chance to do that over Spring Break last April.

See the guy in the middle of this group? That's General George Washington. No, I'm not related to him. At least I don't think so. However, I am related to one of the guys in the yellow pants. Those are his bodyguards and my 5th great grandfather, Joseph Moore, was one of them. Yup, I'm a Daughter of the American Revolution (even though I haven't actually applied for membership).

Joseph Moore (born Joseph Moor) was born in Southwick, Massachusetts around 1764.  When he was 17, he traveled to West Point, NY. He planned to enlist in the Continental Army and was assigned to Capt. Amos Cogswell's company, 3rd Massachusetts Regiment.From there, he was assigned to be a bodyguard for General Washington. I found this when I was researching the position...

"A portion of Washington's general order from March 11, 1776, details his expectations for the men who would serve in his life-guard. 'Being desirous of selecting a particular number of men, as a Guard for himself, and baggage,...depends upon the Colonels for good Men, such as they can recommend for their sobriety, honesty, and good behavior; he wishes them to be from five feet, eight Inches high, to five feet, ten Inches; and good behavior; handsomely and well made, and as there is nothing in his eyes more desirable than Cleanliness in a Soldier, he desires that particular attention may be made, in the choice of such men, as are neat, and spruce.'"


That has to be one of the strangest things I've ever read.

Joseph was discharged from service December 17, 1783. He was 22 when he married Hannah Miller (October 28, 1784 in Granville, MA). Their oldest, Theron, was born in 1786, They had 12 children. That's a dozen! Theron, Hannah, Norman, Joseph Jr, Abigail (my 4th great grandmother), Sophia, Seth, John Henry, Ransom, Levi, Tirza (or possibly Theresa), and Macena.

After the war, America wasn't this shiny and bright utopia. They were actually in rough shape. Not only had they lost men to the fighting, but now they were a new country with new responsibilities. The economy was in a slump, there wasn't enough hard cash circulating, and the state governments were imposing taxes to get themselves back together. Did they really think the people who fought "no taxation without representation" were going to accept that? Not so much.

So, in 1786, Daniel Shays, along with other military veterans started an armed uprising and it became known as Shays' Rebellion. And guess what? Joseph Moore got involved in this too. The majority of the men were pardoned, including Joseph, and this rebellion led to some of the changes that were made to the Constitution.

Theron and Norman, Joseph's oldest sons, decided to head west into Ohio. At some point, Joseph packed up his family and followed them. They settled in Avon, Ohio. This isn't very far from Cleveland and only about 2 and half hours from my hometown of Monroe. My mom found information on where Joseph and Hannah were buried and our plans of a road trip began.

We set out the Monday after Easter. Snacks, a full tank of gas, paper, dates, and cell phones. It was going to be a girl's only weekend filled with...research. (also thrift stores, Amish country, and the Smuckers Headquarters) We drove along Route 6, a twisty little road that follows Lake Erie with only a general idea where this cemetery was located. The cemetery was going to be our first stop.

It was only by God's grace that we found it. It's small and right on the lake. After we passed it we figured it wouldn't hurt to turn around and just check. This was the first of a million more turn-arounds. I eased over the curb and followed the path. Actually, I'm not sure I was really supposed to drive into the cemetery, but there wasn't anywhere else to park either, since the road was too narrow for parking. I almost think Joseph wanted to be found. We had barely gotten out of the car, when we saw his headstone.

I can't begin to explain the feeling you get from finding someone. Most people think of cemeteries as sad or spooky places, but they really aren't. At least I've never felt that way. These stones tell a story. If you're lucky enough to find your ancestor, then they tell a piece of your story too.

Joseph received a pension for serving in the American Revolution. This also means that he was a veteran and is still given that respect. The local veterans group has a special marker at his grave and keeps a flag flying there as well.

He passed away at the age of 84 on February 19, 1846. His wife, Hannah, is buried next to him. It was a beautiful spot for a cemetery, Lake Erie on one side and beautiful homes on the other.

 After we said farewell to 5th great Grandpa and Grandma, we went in search of the library. Most local libraries will have some records about the history of their area. It can be a genealogist's treasure trove. In this case, we found out more about his children and where he and the sons farmed. It always amazes me that records go back this far (and that someone cares enough to keep track of them). The Moore family is considered one of the founding settlers of Avon Lake and Lorain, Ohio. They even have a road named after them. (I think this might have been turn-around #267)

After finding some of the family, Mom and I made our way a little south into the Amish Country and stayed overnight a couple of nights. It was great, and just the kind of relaxation I needed at the time.

And on our way back, we found the Smuckers Headquarters! Which was just cool because I had no idea it was down there.


We've been thinking about a trip to Massachusetts, since we had family names crop up over there. I'm thinking Connecticut is a must. I want to find the Miller's, the Hubbard's, and anyone else that's in that area. If we happen to visit Boston or Salem or the many other sights? All the better. Right?

It just so happens that Hannah's father also served in the Revolutionary war. Since we would be off to find him we could be Daughters of the American Revolution on a Road Trip!

Techno Chick?

 I've been busy the last couple of days. I haven't had a chance to write even though the research is ongoing. I stopped at the Ellis branch of the Monroe County Library. They have a wonderful research area and a huge collection available to genealogists.

For the past few weeks I've been on a hunt to learn more about my great-great aunt Meridia Palmer. I had only just found out through her sister's obituary that she was married. I still had no idea when or why she died.

I had followed her along the census route. In 1920 she was still living at home with her parents and sisters. The obituary said she was  married to someone by the last name of Southern. I eventually found him in 1930, widowed and living as a boarder in someone's home. I still didn't have all the information I needed.

So...off to the library and an amazing piece of technology known as the microfilm. Uh huh. You heard me right. Microfilm. It's the age of technology, people! Who uses this stuff anymore?

Apparently I do. The Monroe Evening News is our local paper. All...and I really do mean ALL of their archives up to...I'm not sure when...have been scanned and saved onto microfilm. (Their most current archives are online now. Did I scare you there for a minute? I nearly scared myself.)

The picture on the right is the machine I used to look through these archives. And look...and look...and look...and all of a sudden I saw it! Meridia Belle Southern (nee Palmer) had an obituary on October 14, 1927 with more details on the 15th.

I still don't know why she died. It only stated that she had passed away after an "illness of many months." One detail I was most excited about was finding out where she was buried. It's not everything I was hoping to find, but it's a start.


Another piece of slightly outdated technology is my new best friend, the flatbed scanner. It's an hp4700c. It's really old. In the great timeline of technology I suppose it really isn't that old. But it won't work on my lap top or my desk top. It only works with my dad's old computer. Or maybe it just doesn't like me?

Anyway...since my dad got it up and running, I've been scanning in photos like a crazy woman.

I had to be honest, I really didn't think the technology for affordable photography dated back that far. I finally looked up cameras of the 1900's and was surprised to find that Kodak's famous Brownie camera debuted in February of 1900. It was a cardboard case camera with a meniscus lens. It took 2 and a quarter inch square pictures.

This explains sooooo much! I was always wondering where all these smaller photos came from. And what's more, the first Brownie only cost $1.00. I know, a dollar was different back in those days...inflation...economy... It still doesn't change the fact that easily mobile photography had suddenly become affordable to the masses. Talk about some amazing technology!

And now I have the ability to scan all of these pictures. There are literally hundreds. And not just scan them, but clean them up. Make them clearer then they were before and fix up some of the wear and tear called time.

Just take a look at this before and after...

Whoa! There are distinguishable facial features. I can actually say for certain who two of these people are, even if I didn't have a note written on the back. (By the way, they are Left to Right: Rowland Kronbach, Rosannah Palmer, and Merrill Hunt Sr. Rosannah and Merrill were my great grandparents. Rowland was a great great uncle.) I've enjoyed using Picasa for the editing phase so far. It's not perfect and it doesn't have all the tools and effects other tools some of the other programs have. But it was free and it has tools enough for what I'm doing right now.

Working with all of these different things, it makes me wonder what they would think about all of the technology we have today.