My Great-Grandparents' 50th Wedding Anniversary

My Great-Grandparents' 50th Wedding Anniversary, originally uploaded by confections.

In my post yesterday, I mentioned a great-great-grandmother who had emigrated from France in 1848, Catherine Decker. Her son John P. Mayer (whose father was Casper Mayer) is seen in this photo on the occasion of his 50th wedding anniversary circa 1932, along with my great-grandmother, Christina. I never knew these great-grandparents (Christina died two years before I was born, John about six years after this anniversary), but I have heard many stories about them. I'm trying to gather as many as I can from the old-timers who still remember them.

Great-Aunt Emily and Aunt Margaret

Great-Aunt Emily and Aunt Margaret, originally uploaded by confections.

My mother's older sister Margaret (about age four) is seated here on the lap of her Aunt Emily, circa 1927. Aunt Emily was born in December of 1869 and lived until 1944. Aunt Margaret was born in 1923 and is alive and well. This was taken at my maternal grandparents' farm in Allegheny County, Pennsylvania.

Saint Agnes School, Mifflin Township, Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, circa 1910

Saint Agnes School, Mifflin Township, Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, circa 1910, originally uploaded by confections.

One of my Dad's cousins shared this old photo with me from her archives. Three of my great uncles are in this photo taken circa 1910 in Mifflin Township, Allegheny County, Pennsylvania.

[If you click on the photo, it will take you to my flickr website where there are notes indicating which of the boys are my paternal grandmother's little brothers.]

I knew all three of these great uncles, but the one I remember the best was my Great Uncle Dose (for Theodosius). When he would visit us, he would always have a treat for us kids, often Kraft caramels or spearmint leaves.

As I have pieced together my family tree, I have learned more about the trials of Uncle Dose's life. His wife left him early in their marriage and took their young daughter Florie away and he never got to see her grow up. He was asthmatic and died at a relatively young age in a family where longevity is the norm.

I attended this same school (from second through fourth grades), as did my father, his brothers, and both of my Dad's parents. Even in the days when I was in attendance (1957-60), it was the equivalent of the fabled one-room school house, with many grades intermixed.

I remember having the distinct privilege one day in third grade of ringing the handbell out of one of the windows of the second storey classroom, signaling the end of the school day--a very 19th century tradition that lasted well into the 20th at my parochial school.

When I was in fourth grade, a new school was being built across the street. I attended it for half a year. We moved that winter and the next fall I went to public school, leaps and bounds ahead of my new schoolmates academically. I credit the very demanding nuns for my good educational foundation. I especially loved learning to read music and remember the special tool Sister Mary Anselm used to draw the music staff with chalk on the blackboard.

The old school and the 19th century church (where my grandparents were married and celebrated a Mass in honor of their 50th wedding anniversary) burned to the ground in the 1970's--the end of an era.

My Mom & Dad, 1956

My Mom & Dad, 1956, originally uploaded by confections.

Today would have been my Dad's 92nd birthday, but he's been gone for nearly 18 years. I lost Uncle George, my Mom's brother, earlier this month; he was born the same year as my Dad.

In the wake of Uncle George's passing, I have been doing a lot of genealogical research into the wee hours, placing pieces of the puzzle into my family tree.

I would encourage you to conduct an oral history interview with all of your loved ones, especially the old-timers. Vast amounts of knowledge are lost when one of them passes; putting their recollections down on paper or (even better) in their own voice will provide an invaluable record.

My Mom's older sister had a faint recollection of the name of a small town in Germany that she had heard the elders mention. That bit of information led to my finding one of our great-great-grandmothers. (My Mother is two-and-a-half years younger than her sister, and did not recall this vital clue.)

I'm in the middle of another family mystery as I write this and am waiting to hear from the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh with some details about a great-grandfather. One of my aunts provided a clue that (knock on wood) has enabled us to identify him.

So, Happy Birthday, Daddy! Farewell, Uncle George! I can hear them now, swapping stories behind the pearly gates.

My Grandparents' Wedding, 1914

 

My paternal grandfather was born on this day in 1885. As I have been pursuing genealogy earnestly over the last few years, I have filled in many blanks in my Ahnentafel; however, many are still awaiting discovery on my grandfather's father's side. Most of the oldtimers who might have had answers for me are long gone, including my own father.

My grandparents married in January 1914 and saw their 50th wedding anniversary plus two. The witnesses pictured here are my grandfather's sister and my grandmother's brother.

One of my cousins generously shared a copy of their wedding certificate with me. It is in German--the small community where my grandparents were born was settled by German/Alsatian immigrants. I have a prayer book in German that had belonged to my grandfather's maternal aunt, from whom I got my middle name of Ann.

I'm already looking forward to the release of the 1940 census, which will happen in 2012. Many more answers will unfold for the genealogical community when that treasure trove is made public.

Molly Ragamuffin (tm) Style Handspun Primitive Cotton Rag Yarn

Molly Ragamuffin (tm) Style Handspun Primitive Cotton Rag Yarn, originally uploaded by confections. Created with dumpr.net--fun with your photos

We fiberartists can dream, can't we?

Featured here is one of my latest Ragamuffin handspun primitive cotton rag yarns, named after my Dad's Mom, Molly. She was one of my original fiberarts mentors. I remember her patience as she taught me how to embroider on her front porch on lazy summer afternoons when I was a very little girl.

Somewhere in my archives I have a portrait of her that I wrote a dozen years ago in a memoir class. I'll have to excavate it from my files and share bits of it here.

And, as I discovered in my genealogical pursuits this past year, Molly comes from French/Mosellan stock, making me feel "Oh, so very French!" these days.

Vintage 1930's Royal Portable Typewriter Collage

Vintage Royal Typewriter Collage, originally uploaded by confections.

Recently my teenage nieces were visiting from back east. On their way to California, they had visited some friends in Pueblo, Colorado, and found this treasure at an antique store. We had fun typing up a summary of our days' activities each night.

Back in March, at the same antique store, my sleuthing nieces had found some 100-year-old letters which they transcribed and researched. We were able to locate a relative of the letter writer through Ancestry.com, and share the contents. She, in turn, sent a photo of the author as a child. The letters are available to read at Euterpe, my niece's blog.

Kate Sessions, the Mother of Balboa Park, and My Mother and Grandmothers

Kate Sessions Statue, originally uploaded by confections.

Today I am featuring a photo of a statue of Kate Sessions, the “Mother of Balboa Park”, in San Diego, California. My sister and I visited the park this Saturday to photograph two of her quilts (more on those lovelies later this week) and we captured sweet Kate as well.

With Mother’s Day just around the corner, I’m busy getting my Mom’s package of goodies ready to send. This particular statue of Kate Sessions reminds my Mother of her own mother, whom I never knew except through photos and my Mother’s recollections of her. I’ll include a series of photos of Kate-who-reminds-my-mother-of-her-mother in my Mom’s gift box.

In my genealogical research this month, I located my Mother’s grandmother’s birthplace in Germany, a tiny village called Thaleischweiler in the Rhineland-Palatinate area. The only clues I had to guide me were supposed roots in Aachen, but my Aunt Margaret remembered some of the old-timers in her youth speaking of Pirmasens.

Once I had a positive hit on my grandmother’s name and birthdate on the International Genealogical Index, and discovered that the town was in the Pirmasens region, I knew I had hit genealogical paydirt. I was able to go back two further generations as well. This is heady stuff for a budding genealogist, finding these links after many trials and tribulations. I will find a special way to honor these newly discovered grandmothers this Mother’s Day.

My Victorian Grand-Aunts Galbraith

My Victorian Grand-Aunts Galbraith, originally uploaded by confections.

These stylish ladies are the sisters of my maternal grandfather. I love their Victorian grandeur. Several of them were schoolteachers and never married; they tatted and painted on china and traveled abroad. My mother remembers playing dress-up with her sister from a trunk full of their cast-off dresses. Their mother was a dressmaker before she married my great-grandfather.

I recently began to do some serious genealogy on-line and found a long-lost cousin in North Carolina who had this photo and several dozen others from my mother's family that we had never seen. What a treasure!