Postcards From the Lake: September Flies!

What happened to September? It's like a magician's trick -- Now you see it, now you don't! Well, we still have some time but boy, it's flying by!

 

I headed to the lake to welcome my new refrigerator. I suspected Rick might want to sit this trip out, having been away from his own home for so long. The new fridge is lovely and the delivery couldn't have been better. Right on time, two very strong guys managed to get it in without having to remove my heavy wooden door!

Postcards From the Lake: "Same" Can Be Wonderful

Truth of the matter is, life at the lake isn't particularly exciting. There are rarely dramatic moments, major crises. It's just good. And very much the same as it has been in years past. Quiet. Unscheduled. Productive. Lazy. Relaxing. Fun. And sorely needed.

 

When we were kids spending our summers at the lake, every day was full of fun and full of play. We'd be up and out of the house -- maybe enjoying the beach and most likely enjoying the water. We were back and forth between my house and my cousins, a half mile away, singing show tunes at the top of our lungs as we walked the same stretch of roads I walk now. Whenever the sun was out and the water reasonably calm, we were in the boat and on water skis.

Postcards From the Lake: The Place That Owns Me

The end of season walk is quieter, more contemplative, than those during the heat of summer. In the summer, many others are encountered and conversations -- some brief, some less so -- are not uncommon. The October walk, especially on a weekday, finds that one is often alone.

 

Maneuvering Down the Genealogy Highway

I have a new cousin! Probably third cousin, maybe fourth. And it's a very cool story. But first, the background!

Several years ago when watching "Finding Your Roots," comedian Stephen Colbert's story was featured. As host Henry Louis Gates, Jr., gave him his family tree, he revealed a familiar name -- Leatherman. That's a name I knew well from my mother's family and it set me to wondering, "Is Stephen Colbert my cousin?"

That question sent me down the Genealogy Highway, trying to dig out the story of my mother's ancestors. I've mentioned this here before -- discovering my great grandfather's story (he was in one of Michigan's insane asylums for the last 13 years of his life); finding the graves of my great grandmother and her father in Michigan and her grandparents in Ontario; and visiting the home site and the church where my second great grandparents on her mother's side were married while we were in London. I even set up a blog about that family search.

But I really knew very little of my dad's family, especially on his father's side. So when I discovered the photo of Hannah Wells Holcomb Hard, my fourth great grandmother, I was curious to learn more.

I started out with her name and dates on the back of the card, which I assumed were birth and death dates -- 1765-1865. A search on various genealogy sites revealed some information but far too many holes to be sure I was looking for the right person. But then I remembered something else I had found at home quite some time ago with little context.

It was a book -- a photo yearbook -- published in 1896 -- that highlighted the first 100 years of Ohio's Western Reserve. This is basically the Cleveland area and the towns in several surrounding counties. There were some badly scrawled references to certain pages and some names marked with an asterisk in the index. One of those names? Hannah Wells Hard. And sure enough, there was the photo of my fourth great grandmother, along with her daughter, Harriet, my third great grandmother.

This gave me another search term -- Cleveland. And when that went in, along with the name, I came up with a rather long book written by Harriet's daughter (my second-great-gran's sister) which included at the front a history of the family. The book was online and after some copying and pasting, now lives as a word doc for my reference.

I've always had a warm feeling and great affinity for Cleveland, given that cousins on my mother's side all live there and we've visited for many years. I love the city, what I know of it. I had no idea I had some connection to it!

The book had loads of information on the founding of the region, the churches, the colleges (Baldwin - now Baldwin Wallace - and Oberlin) and the various organizations, notably the Women's Club (responsible for the publication of the book) and the Women's Christian Temperance Union. Let's just say my ancestors would not approve of Cork Poppers!

The online book sent me back to Familysearch.org, with some names and locations. Their records revealed interesting things like Theodore Parmalee's Revolutionary war records (or some of them). Whether this was Harriet's husband Theodore or his father is still up for grabs, but it is the direct line, which gives yet another generation's information.

Well, I couldn't keep all this to myself. I posted this page on my Facebook page and one of my friends, the wonderful Kim, my IT Goddess (without her, I'm not sure I'd have a working computer!), wrote, "I have a Parmelee in my family tree."

Well, it turns out -- I think -- that her second great gran Eliza Parmelee, is my second great gran Lucia Parmelee Davis' sister. It was their sister who wrote the history I found online.

Should the DNA check out -- or more facts -- it would appear we are probably third or fourth cousins. I can't think of a better person to add to my family tree!

And as for my people? Well, this is Lucia's daughter, Adelia, and her husband, Henry Croope (what a beard!), my great grandparents. It's hard for me to wrap my brain around all that!

I have no idea how this daughter of a doctor met farmer Henry Croope, or where. I do know, though, that she kept bees!

I have some direct information on Delia (my dad wrote this letter to his mother who was in the hospital when Dad was eight. Apparently he was really missing his mom!)

I can see why. She also served up Dad's pet chicken, Pedro, for dinner one night and when someone said "That was good," she said, "That was Pedro." Dad was about eight and I don't think he ever forgave her. Nor was he that fond of chicken for the rest of his life. I also have the eulogy he wrote for her when she died. She, too, was active in the Temperance Union. I'm not sure if we would have got along.

From Hannah to Harriet, Harriet and Theodore to Lucia, Lucia to Adelia, Adelia and Henry to Charles and the Charlie to my dad.

And Dad to me.

So many people I never knew I had. Some I discovered by sheer accident. My people.

Travel Break: Winter Memories

Every now and then for one reason or another I go back into my family photos. What starts as a quick look for something specific usually ends up as a long visit, recalling some special times.

I've been going through photos, trying to find the right ones to illustrate the book I'm writing about our family history. A photo -- even one taken before my time -- can lead to many thoughts.

One such thought is that I didn't always hate winter.

In fact, I appear to rather have enjoyed it.

So did the dog!

 And while we may complain about heavy winters and more snow, we really did have just as much as we did in the way-back machine.

Sometimes they even had more. And our ancestors were tougher, too. No snow blowers or tractors to help plow. And they shoveled in skirts and bare legs.

I remember when dad got his riding lawn mower with a plow blade. It was a very big deal for him!

Although some remain purists.

Purists who find photos like this a necessary evil of knowing me.

I will not deny that winter is beautiful, whether it is here at the Ditch...

...or farther afield, like the stark, desolate beauty of the Shaker Village in Hancock, Massachusetts...

...or by a water mill in Sudbury, Massachusetts...

...or on the path in western Michigan where Rick was a leader in founding the Kal-Haven Trail.

It's a spot he loves and one I hope to find again. Not in winter.

Winter, of course, comes with its warnings.

And one would be wise to take heed.

I think I stopped loving winter once I started falling down more -- and it was a longer way to the ground. It seems we fall much harder now -- and don't recover nearly so well. This is our Little Big Guy before he was even one and he seems to be loving it! (He's going to be two very soon and I suspect he'll love the snow even more, in his puffy snowsuit and able to run and play!)

To be honest, the fact that roads in our area aren't the best plowed doesn't endear me to the season, either. (Although at least the snow fills the potholes, at least temporarily!)

I'm longing for a good walk around the Ditch, and while it would be pretty like this...

...I think I'll wait a bit until it looks a little more like this!

And that should only be a few more months!

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Hygge and Winter

I don't know if there is enough wood in the world to knock on to superstitiously keep this statement at bay. Here goes: So far, it hasn't been a bad winter! Not like this photo from 2013!

Last week I wrote about one of my words of the year, Hygge, and a lot of you were excited about the concept and hadn't heard much, if anything, about it. (I hadn't either till recently.) For those who want a wonderful discussion about hygge, check out this link from On Point on WBUR/Boston where the show was devoted to a lively and fun discussion. (They don't speak of sheep on the show, but knitting or crocheting is a very hygge thing!)

So, you might wonder how those two connect -- light winter so far (knock knock) and hygge! Well hygge is all about being cozy. And when I chose it, who knew what winter -- the time I really need to cozy up most of all -- would be. So I decided to share a few photos from winters past so my Southern friends (who seem to be getting it worse than we are right now) and my Down Under pals can see what Michigan winter can look like. Below is the Ditch several years ago.

And below is a golden oldie -- one of the joys of the Scanning Project. Dad and Grandma, endearing for so many things -- notably the chic fashion of the farm wife! Dad isn't the picture of fashionista perfection either!

They had it tough back then, living on a farm with a good deal of property. While I don't remember hearing about cows, I know the barn was full of chickens, including Dad's pet Pedro, who ended up on the dinner table. Dad was never big on chicken after that. There was no "staff," no snowplows. Just Grandma and Grandpa (who is notably absent in these shoveling photos!)

My grandmother was a tall woman -- 6'1" -- so when you see those snowdrifts next to her, you know it was a pretty hard winter.
 

Despite the fact that many photos of me as a child show me scowling when outside...

...I loved winter far more than I do now.It was much closer to the ground when you fell and the snowsuits provided a certain amount of padding that a pair of jeans and a parka don't!

And there is something hygge about eating snow. Clean, fresh snow.

Or building a snow fort or sucking on icicles. Really? My mother let me do that?

I loved sledding and snowballs. Winter was fun!

It became less fun the older I got but even by high school I managed to make the most of it. I would stand with my friends for hours in the front yard at Christmas. We would stop traffic as we'd stand in a holiday tableau, moving slowly, like animated mannequins and trying not to let steam escape from our noses or mouths.I remember people stopping, trying to make us laugh and occasionally trying to figure out if we were real. Our cast of characters varied, depending on who was available but we always had fun.

This all started because Dan, the one in the red who grew up to work for the State Department overseas (now retired) lived in our 'hood and one day when mom came home from the store she commented that his family had a nice Christmas display of a life-sized caroler mannequin holding a candle. Well, it was Dan. He'd do all by himself (a lonely business), so we decided to take the show down the road to our house -- at the top of a "T" in the streets -- and add a few characters. He brought a tree and floodlights from the church where his dad was a pastor. We'd do it for as long as we could stand and when traffic slowed, would come in for a hot-chocolate warm up.

Now Rick is a winter guy.

This year's winter with only one substantial December snowfall that melted within a couple of weeks is frustrating him. He would spend all winter doing this if he had his way.

And definitely not this.

For which I am greatly relieved. The other day he rode his bike over (we were in melt-mode then) and then it iced up outside and the bike ended up in my hall for two days -- till he walked it home.

Whether it is snowy or not, Lizzie's birds will gladly eat us out of house and home.

And I am glad to feed them, partly because it's the right thing to do and in part because it provides us both with great entertainment! (That tree is finally down.)

From where I sit, the best thing about winter and snow is just how pretty it looks when it has just fallen and it feels divinely romantic. This...

....and this...

...maybe this.

And not this, which is more of what our typical winter is like!

So, while we haven't had the snow of some of the photos here so far, it's still pretty darned cold and I am longing for a little more heat and a little less ice.

And I'm hoping to get it soon! But not, I think, here.

So, till next time, stay Hygge!