Procrastination Gets You in the End

It seemed OK to procrastinate. I mean, it took so long to scan, and there were so many that, "I'll do it later," seemed like a good idea.

It wasn't.

I am working on our family history. Everyone's history -- Mom, Dad, Mom-in-law, Dad-in-law and back and back.

I've acquired my mom's photos, gotten photos from in-laws, from Aunts and Uncles, from Mom's cousin, and from Ancestry.

I've located documents from old newspapers, from the courthouse, and from Ancestry.

Obituaries, gravestones, photos of people and places.... and many of them have numbers 0015723, 2963812... not actual identification.

Oh, and copies of some of these too.

Thousands of items I now need to go through one by one.

But first I need to think of a system that will make sense to me when I need to find something next time.

I'm the only one who can do it. No professional organizer or outside person knows these people (I don't even know all of them.) Me -I have to do it.

Think of the stories I'll be able to tell when I get it all together.

No more procrastination.

Perspective

In photography it is important to shift perspective. If you shoot a picture from above you diminish the power of the subject. If you shoot a photo from below you give the subject power. Shooting from an angle gives a subject energy.

Distance in time changes your perspective. I spent the last two days in my home town looking at it from the perspective of a visitor. My youngest and I went to the library. The library was my favorite location in town. It is a Carnegie library, and they just finished a year long renovation, so of course the inside is different. But the steps leading up to it seemed different as well. They looked the same but I remember the climb being taller. Somehow they've shrunk over the years.

We drove around trying to find locations of old relatives gleamed from census records and photos. I was trying to find connections to photos where people are posing outside houses but I don't know for sure where they are. I wanted to connect locations to people and to their place in time. In the process of looking for the houses, we drove the path I used to walk to get to my elementary school.

Back then, I had to cross 3 highways to get there. One had a stop light. One wasn't that busy. And one had a crossing guard. And the streets around the school were manned by 6th grade crossing guards with orange vests. (Those interested took turns).  I swear I didn't use to be able to see all the way to that 3rd highway from the stoplight at the first. And I swear it was a much longer walk than just 6 blocks. The parking lot at the Catholic church along the way had at snow hills at least a mile long in the winter all on it's own, so there is no way I only had a measly 6 block walk.

And driving around I noticed the homes in town are much shabbier and smaller than I remember. My yard growing up was a huge oasis of dandelions and the bees who liked to rest on them while I ran barefoot from the back door to the alley. Why did the new owners move the alley closer to the back door?

Perspective also changes dependent on how close you are to events. I was trying to locate houses and taking pictures -- freaking out youngest because I had off handedly mentioned I hoped I wouldn't get picked up for terrorist activity because I was taking pictures of random buildings. One home was only a block from my house and across the street and down three houses from one belonging to my mom's maiden aunts. I knew about the maiden aunts house, but the other one belonged to my mom's great aunt and her husband. Did mom know about that? It was a house I always liked and it still has charm.

We went to a cemetery to find the graves of distant relatives I've grown attached to. I've looked for them before, but without luck. Today we found them. This family, in early November of 1879 had 10 members including 8 children. At the end of December 1879, 5 of those children had died of diptheria. I can not imagine the pain of losing a child, 5 Is beyond comprehension. Apparently Diptheria is a virus of sorts where your lungs fill with fluid and you essentially drown. There was no antibiotic at that time to cure the disease and the tracheotomy that could have enabled breathing to occur until the symptoms passed, had not yet been tried. Finding them today and seeing that all their names were on the big tombstone was satisfying. Seeing they each had a little headstone with their initials carved on top gave me peace. Two stones had fallen over. Little Anna's had been lying down so long it was starting to sink into the earth. I picked them both up and tried to smooth the dirt around them. I brushed the moss off of the big tombstone where it was starting to eat away the etchings. I imagined a moment how it must have felt to bury your children one by one. Impossible.

We went to the museum, because my mother-in-law knows someone who said they might be able to answer my questions about some of the photos I had. I barely had the words, "I was wondering..." as I started to pull out a photo, before the woman taking my money quickly informed me she had no idea about anything,  because she had only lived there for a couple of years. She then added the other person in the windowed office hadn't lived there long either. AND she further injected that the nearly 90 year old resident historian was in, but that she researched for money. She then walked me back to the research room and asked what files I was interested in. She brought the files out and deposited them on the table. She showed the photos I had of an old school, to the historian who said (from her office) the newer version of the  school had been built on the location of the one in my photos. They asked if they could make a copy. They never asked the name of who was in the photos.

And that is when I started to think of the subject of this post. How can you work in a museum that is all about town history and not know anything about the town? There were 4 (probably volunteer) workers sitting and talking as we left. If you know nothing about the very thing you are representing, wouldn't you use your time to find out? No one checked on us in the research room. No one asked if we needed anything else. And we'd had to pay to get in. Very different from the Museum in Warsaw. They only ask for donations and are very friendly and helpful.

So, my thinking is that perspective is a complex issue.

When photographing, I think about what I want to convey with the image I am composing. Looking at the cliches that "time heals all wounds" and "distance makes the heart grow fonder" I take them to simply mean that opinions and memories are shaped by the significance certain events held in your life. Maybe La Porte was always a teeny, tiny, shabby, little place and I just didn't know it because at the time it was THE big wide world? Maybe it isn't the town that has changed. Maybe I am the one who changed; physically and emotionally

And maybe those people at the museum don't care about the history of La Porte because it was never their world. Maybe the people who care for the cemetery didn't notice Anna's stone had fallen over because she doesn't belong to them. There isn't anyone around she belongs to, or who know she belongs to them.

In the broader scheme of things perspective is everything. We can't truly fight for what we believe until we know what we believe and why. People who fight for one current event or another based on how they think-- the people they think  will be affected--  will actually be affected... Unless you can speak from personal experience --either yourself or someone you actually know-- then you don't know. We shouldn't jump on bandwagons just because we like the conductor or the song being played.

We need to look at issues from all angles. If we look up at issues, they will seem more powerful and problematic than if we stand over them. Looking at issues square stagnates them and freezes us to inaction. Where as looking at issues from all angles can give them movement and energy.

Perspective {changes} everything.

How do you tell the story

How do you go about writing your family story?

I am lucky. My parents were married for nearly 60 years. Hubby's parents have been married for more than 50 years. In the direct line their aren't any divorces.

Lucky.

But how do you tell the story?

I have parents, grand-parents, great-grandparents, and some further.

I have some pictures. I have Ancestry documents. I have bits and pieces of stories.

How do you tell the story?

I have people with technology access. I have people with access but no idea how it would work. I have people who would require a hard copy.

How do you tell the story?

A family tree with hyper links?
A reverse-o book that tells male and female from different directions?
A straight forward now to then format?
A start from the first known on down?

How do you tell the story?

I am watching "Who Do You Think You Are" and they related a quote, "The things the father wishes to forget, the grandson wishes to remember." I am learning stories from newspapers that my family never knew. So much I wish to know.

How do you find the stories that make people real when the people who know are all gone?

How do you tell your story?

A Drive Through Amish Country

Indiana is not all in the same time zone. Here in the North-Eastern part we are on East Coast time. In the Northwestern part, where I am from, they are on Central time. Because of this, as I travelled on Saturday, the light on the farm fields was amazing.

I left at 8 so the sun was up but at that perfect angle that makes the photographer in me drool. As it is generally frowned upon to do digital SLR photography while driving, I had to be content with just enjoying the moments.

I had the new Ed Sheeran on the WiFi jack.  I love his music so much. This album is so personal and autobiographical my thoughts kept wandering to personal thoughts of my own.

 I was going to see a relative of my mom's who had old photos that she wanted help identifying.  I thought of my mom and dad, and the fact that the  anniversaries of their deaths are coming up. Dad's will be five years tomorrow. Mom's will be 3 years next week. I found parallels in the songs. Stories Ed Sheeran told that I wished I could do as succinctly played on the radio as the stories I wished I could tell played in my head.

I had to pass through Amish country to get to my destination. Passing buggies and people riding bikes with the sun bathing the fields in golden light made me think of my ancestors who settled in my hometown. German ancestors who rode in buggies and farmed fields by hand and hung laundry out to dry on lines are who I am from. I wondered if anyone else driving was in awe of the beauty all around. Do the Amish notice anymore since it is what they live every day?

As I drove, I thought about the fact that I was driving a vehicle and waiting for the part of the drive where I could go 65/70 miles an hour. A van that could comfortably hold 7 and that had heat.  I was listening to music I transferred from my google account to my phone that I then cast it to the WiFi jack, because the CD player is not working. All the while passing people who have no idea who Ed Sheeran is and have chosen a life that seems so much harder than the one the rest of have chosen.

The dichotomy really struck me.

Coming home, the sun was once again behind me and was starting to set all golden again. The relative had a portrait on the wall of my grandfather's family where he is between 12 and 15. I took photos of it. She had albums of my mom's side of the family that she gave me. There are photos of my grandfather as a young man before my grandmother or my mom. There are photos of family gatherings where everyone is in a big group. I had no idea there were photos of people at the beach or posing by the DANGER Railroad crossing sign in the 19teens and 20s.  I thought everything then was still formal and posed by professionals.  Every picture I see makes me want more. Is there someone somewhere who has a photo of my great-great grandparents? What about the other sides of the family? Where are those photos?

 I should be satisfied.  I know this. 5 years ago I had no idea the pictures I would now have. I am grateful.

Grateful but I want more connections. I want to see me in those faces. I want to see my children in the childhood faces of my ancestors. I want to know their stories. Are any of them the same as my story?

Grandpa is between his mom and dad -- the youngest in the family --born in 1897.  What stories could he tell if he were alive today?

I looked it up and the Amish do not believe in posing for photos. Perhaps the connection they have to the past through community is enough to satiate the need for knowledge of what came before.

I want more.

It's amazing what a little music, while driving through Amish country bathed in golden light, can bring to mind.

In Search of a Story Draft 1

My guys went to the big city today and I had the afternoon at home on my own.
I found out yesterday that my father-in-law's estranged brother died a year or so ago. The details are sketchy but it seems as though he estranged himself from the rest of the family. Even his own children were not aware he had died. This thought makes me very sad because my in-laws aren't sure of the exact date. I've done research on hubby's side of the family as well as my own -- just not as much, so I looked for more info but found little.

While my guys were enjoying the movie Logan in the big city, I had the TLC marathon of "Who Do You Think You Are?" playing on the TV and I worked on my genealogy research.

I am 99% positive I will never find any kings or queens or royalty of any kind in my tree. Nor does my husband. We do have farmers --lots of farmers. We have widows and widowers and orphans. We have military and those who maintained the home front.

There are so many bits and pieces when put together that make a story.
In laws have picture books that the town they grew up in put together. Sussex, New jersey, where they're from, asked for historical pictures from those who had lived there. They received so many they have 3 volumes. Within those pages are faces and places that are foreign to me, but as I asked questions my in-laws had stories to share. This led me to wish each town would do this.

State history is a 4th grade standard. What if there was a town standard? I've learned so much about my home town through research of my ancestors. How much more would I have learned if school and forced / encouraged me to interview relatives from home. How much more pride in my home town would I have had if I had known more than the story of Belle Guiness (one of the first female serial killers)?

I know people move -- more today than in the past -- but knowing the history of where you are gives you a stronger foundation.

Did you know Dr. Mayo of the Mayo Clinic went to medical school in La Porte, Indiana? Did you know La Porte had a medical school? Did you know that medical school was on the same property as the elementary school I went to? I didn't. And I bet there aren't many from La Porte who know either. And the shame is that that is only one aspect. La Porte has been a dying town since manufacturing moved out 30 years ago. Would pride help save dying towns?

Unexpected

"Hi. I just inherited a box of photos from my great aunt and I saw that you had an individual on your tree that matches the family and I was wondering if you are connected and interested."

This is the gist of an e-mail I read on the way home from running errands with my husband.

My head exploded with excitement! If we had been driving a team of horses I might have snapped the reigns.

This person is a member of Ancestry and saw on my Ancestry tree that we had the same relative in common. A relative who moved from my hometown to the Kansas prairie and started a family. He mentioned he had photos from Kansas as well as my home town. The possibilities running through my head were endless but the dream I mentioned out loud to my husband was the possibility that it was of my great aunt's wedding and that it might include a photo of the family altogether so I could see what my relatives looked like.

I told him my connection and he agreed to e-mail me photos.

Later that afternoon I received a few from Kansas.  And that night he sent me twelve from my home town. And you know what? There was a photo of a couple with the woman in a wedding dress!

Freak out!

I opened my family tree and got to that branch of the family to try to match faces to how old they would be approximately. Going on the assumption that the couple were my great aunt and her new husband I figured out who would be married and therefore with a spouse, who would have had kids by then and how old they would be, and who else might be there and photographed considering it would have been 1889. Some things were a bit off but others meshed. The crazy thing was the woman in the photo did not look like the one in a photo from Kansas several years later. Some of the kids with parents didn't look old enough. And my great- grandparents who had married two years earlier were no where to be seen.

So I allowed myself to go down the "what if" road.

What if the wedding couple was actually MY great- grandparents? Things fall into place if this is the case. If the wedding couple is my great- grandparents then I have all of my great- grandmothers siblings and their families if they were old enough at the time. And a photo of my great-great grandmother who would have been about 53 in 1887.

Some people that were photographed are unknown to me. More detective work is needed. But the scenario in my head is this:  My great grandmother's family was rather poor. My great-grandfather's family were fairly prosperous.  Maybe his family paid for the photos. Then, when younger sis married and moved to Kansas she took the photos of her family with her, since heading to Kansas with her Lutheran preacher husband meant it was unlikely they'd be back anytime soon.

This is the story in my head. The story I want to be true. But that makes it hard to make an unbiased opinion on the photos taken 30 years apart that I am comparing to decide if they are mine.

Does she look 50ish?

Do these people

Look like 2nd woman from left and 4th man

How amazing is it if these are actually my great grandparents in 1887?


And that leads to the next question.
The next quest.
The next obsession.

If the photos sent to me represent the great grandma side, and
it actually was my great- grandfather's side that paid for the photos, where are the great grandpa side of the family photos?  Because both of my great-great grandparents on that side would have been alive at that time.

And Oh how I'd love to see them!

Detective or Stalker

I got interested in knowing more about my history when making a scrapbook for my parent's 50th anniversary. I found out the names of my grandmother's birth parents and I was hooked. I joined Ancestry.com and began the journey to my roots.

14 years later I continue to find at least 2 questions for any answer.

Both of my parents are gone now. My mom was the last of her generation and I found stories she had no idea existed. I have recently started trying to find people from other branches that are the age of myself or my older siblings to try to connect dots.

This is where the question of detective vs stalker comes in.

In doing the research, in order to build a family tree, you consult census records, birth, marriage, and death certificates. You read obituaries to find out about the people so they become more than just a date. And you read about the married last names of female children.

Thanks to the internet, finding people is easier. All you need to do is input a name into Google. You narrow choices by location. Possible relatives are often listed along with address and phone numbers. Then you can go to fb and input a name. Often locations are mentioned. Then you can check their friends lists and see if you recognize any other names from your research and if so, you can message them.

I've messaged a few people. And a few of them have responded. Two have asked how I found them.

I had just been really impressed with my detective skills. I hadn't thought about how it sounded until I thought about the process. Now it feels a little stalkerish. And frankly, it's kind of scary to think how easy it is to be found.

Now I'm feeling a little hesitant about contacting strangers out of the blue. I try to asuage their potential fears by telling them about myself and how I think we are connected. But still...

I'm not sure how I would respond. Or if I would respond.

Hopefully intent is the final arbiter, because I would hate to be a stalker.