Thanksgiving ...

Today, in the States is Thanksgiving I will not be posting a typical blog today, just going to wish everyone well and safe. I'm going to exercise my butt off so I have room for more turkey. See you tomorrow!

Dad's Military History

My father did something that very few people have done in their lifetime, with so many years in between … he retired, once in 1965 and again in 1988 or 1989 (forgive my lack of memory on the second). And he was kind enough to give me a copy of the press release that went to the local paper in honor of his first retirement.

This letter is fascinating, because the second page details his military history. Although, throughout life he has spoken to us about his military history, the importance of this didn’t sink in until I saw it in writing. This letter is addressed to my paternal grandmother, and she kept it, it was then given to my Dad.

Aside from the military he worked at Shop-Rite in Burlington, NJ for a short time, he also worked at Purex, and eventually ended up working at Rohm and Haus (a chemical plant) in the Bridesburg section of Philadelphia for twenty-three years before retiring a second time.

My only recollection of his work was Rohm and Haus, where he worked extremely long hours of swing shifts, and only had one weekend a month off. That was the weekend that he took us camping, every month, rain, shine, or blizzard.

It is this work ethic that helped him and Mom to be able to afford to raise a slightly large family of 5 children. It is also this work ethic that made us all aware of how special our Dad really is, early on.

Bah-Humbug I tell you!

As the holiday season quickly approaches I feel a bit bah humbug-ish. Everywhere that I’ve been today people have politely told me to “have a Happy Thanksgiving.” I want to yell out, “What’s so happy about it?” Instead I give the old standby answer, “Thanks, you too.”

The winter holiday always get me down … or at the very least frustrated and angry, because I want my children to have a perfect holiday, but it never works that way. If it isn’t because they didn’t get the perfect gift then it is because I am so tense (as I seek that perfection) that I’m yelling at everyone. The cold, dark winter days bring on depression for me, and the holidays is just one more reminder of my illness.

You may be asking, “What in the world does this have to do with genealogy?”

I’m sitting here, at my desk wondering what the holidays were like for my ancestors. Did they worry about perfection? Where does my depression come from? Were they worried about the perfect gift, or did their children just take what they got and appreciate it? Did they spend holidays together, or were there too many squabbles to handle a holiday together? What was it like in the late 1800s, early 1900s.

I do know that my maternal grandmother’s family must have had it tough as there are several federal censuses that list them as living together. Their widowed father and adult children, doubled, tripled, and sometimes quadrupled up in the same home. They probably spent a lot of time together, especially holidays, but, were they prosperous holidays, or just another day!?

What was a celebration like? Was it traditional … or did they form their own traditions? Was Uncle so and so a happy holiday drunk, or did he start fights? What, exactly, was life like for them? Were they Scrooges?

Before the 1950s holidays weren’t quite so commercialized, but now … we have expectations. Back in the day, the holiday was what people made of it. What are you going to make of your holiday season?

I’ve left more questions than answers, but I wanted you to think about this when you are with your family over the holiday season, ask the elders about their early holiday lives.

Thanks to Medical Science

Giving thanks to medical science seems a strange topic, but I bring to you a death certificate for my Great-Grandmother, Lillian May (Saxton) Crosland. Unfortunately, prior to really being “into” genealogy I saw a newspaper article for Lillian that stated she was diagnosed with Tuberculosis (TB). Furthermore, it stated that Lillian is the daughter of Bristol Police Chief Charles Saxton.

This was an interesting find … and apparently as rare as TB is today. I know it was in the Bristol Gazette, in the society page, but I’ll be darned if I can locate it now. Yet, I bring it up to you because as you can see if you have looked at the death record, Lillian died from Pulmonary Infarctions, presumably from TB. This left her children with no mother, and back then a single father wasn’t supposed to raise children, it was common for the father to remarry quickly, or to give his children to family members to raise.

Thornton B. Crosland gave his younger children (including my grandmother, Sarah B. (Crosland) Keckler) to other family members to raise. Although it is believed that Thornton may have paid some form of child support for Sarah.

Huh, I seem to have gone off on a bit of a tangent. Anyway, at this time we have many medicines, vaccinations, and other preventative measures to eradicate the population of many illnesses that long ago had taken lives of the young, the old, and the in-between. These illnesses were wiping out families, and spreading panic in the streets. Yet today, we are much more educated and protected from these sorts of illnesses.

And, for that I would like to thank medical science for preserving our present to increase the likelihood of a future.

Sentimental Sunday

When my mom, Elizabeth Jane (Keckler) Leary, passed away her personal possessions were divided among our Dad and the five living children. For those of you that knew my mother you know that she had plenty of possessions, jewelry, bathroom towel sets, kitchen towel sets, Pyrex pans, and much more. The interesting thing about all of this is that it was never used, and I don’t mean she opened her gifts and purchases, leaving them to collect dust. No, she left them in the package that they were purchased in, and if it was a gift it was not uncommon to find the original wrapping paper folded up and neatly saved so she could remember who gave her what gift.

When Mom passed I got a lot of her jewelry, most, if not all of it never worn by her and it was heartbreaking. There really was very little that Mom used that would give us a sentimental sense when holding it, or wearing it, or even using it. It was all just stuff … stuff to take up space, but much like Mom, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. Sometimes I would hold it, hoping to feel some sentimental emotion, some … nostalgia of a Mom that loved all of us, but I often felt nothing more than this is her stuff, never used, and never seen by others.

My daughter, Caitlin has very few memories of Mom, because Caitlin was only about two and a half years old when Mom passed. Also, we live 800 miles from Mom and Dad, so visiting was difficult. Yet, it is she that helped me to see the value of Mom’s belongings, and it was just recently that this transformation occurred.

“Mom,” Caitlin said, “can I wear some of Grammy’s jewelry to school?”

“I don’t know, let’s go through and see what you want to wear and I will tell you if it is okay or not.” I don’t know what made me respond this way, I could have just as easily said, “sure, go for it.” Something made me hesitate; maybe it was an opening of my mind and heart to the true value of the things I had acquired.

Together we went through the bag and box of jewelry that I had and she narrowed her option down to three different necklaces. I did not approve of two of her choices, so I allowed her to wear a string of imitation pearls, and she was proud as could be to wear Grammy’s necklace. She left me sitting on my bed surrounded by “stuff” so that she could pick out the perfect outfit to go with Grammy’s necklace.

It was there, that it finally dawned on me, why I couldn’t part with Mom’s belongings, the newness of said belongings were and are very sentimental. Each piece represents Mom’s habits, the special kindness she thought of others, and her need to not waste anything. They are all a symbol of Mom’s need to have things just so, to keep a certain item, or many items intact. For all intents and purposes, Mom’s belongings hold more sentimentality that I have realized until just a couple of weeks ago. Thanks to Caitlin.

Silly Saturday

The year was 1937, my father, Raymond Leary was just ten years old. It was a chilly morning when Pop (Daniel T. Leary born: 1900) prepared to head off to work as a truck driver. As he walked to the car he realized that he had a flat tire. Returning to the warmth of the house he woke my father to make him change the tire.

(For those young’un’s reading this and thinking that this was inappropriate, it was common for ten-year-olds to do man’s labor at this time in history.)

Blurry eyed and hardly awake Dad stumbled his way to the driveway to change the flat. The more he worked, the more awake he became, and when he was done he returned to the house full of pride for his accomplishment.

Pop went to the car to head to work and realized his son had changed the wrong tire, and he still had a flat.

About fifty years later, Dad’s four-year-old son would make a similar mistake. When our Dad went to go to work one day he opened the garage door and something shiny and red caught the sun and the reflection caught Dad’s eye. Looking down he discovered that Dan had taken the tail light off the old Volkswagen Beetle and placed it behind the wheel so that the car wouldn’t roll. Lucky for Dad, he saw it before running it over.

And, this is why Family History is so important, if we don’t learn from the past we are bound to repeat it in the present and future.

Happy Birthday to my Father-in-law

November 22, 1937, the day an amazing baby was born, and that baby would grow to become my father-in-law, Patrick Eitniear. If Dad could have one thing in this entire world, I believe it would be to remain at his childhood home for all eternity, and if that’s not possible in the spirit world, then I got a glimpse of his view of said home last night.

I contacted Vintage Aerial a few days ago, and last night one of their librarians called me. Together we went through two rolls of aerial photos from 1990 before finding Dad’s childhood home. Though it was difficult to see, unless you were looking for an overhead view of trees and shadows, it was fascinating to spy the open field with a single tree signifying that this was in fact the correct property.  

The tree that helped me locate vintage aerial photos
of the childhood home of Patrick Eitniear.

Granted, I was sort of bummed at first, because I wanted vintage photos, which to me would be something like 1970, but then again 1990 was over 20 years ago. The shadows darkened the home, making it barely visible, but still, this is the view that Dad has from Heaven. Once I realized that, I was thrilled with the find … and the best part is that it was free!

I didn’t ask for a copy of the picture, nor did I save it, because it didn’t hit me until after I closed the window what a find it truly was. I have to say, if the aerial photos are any insight to the view from Heaven, then the view is breath-taking.

Sure, I can get on Google Maps or even Google Earth and see much the same thing, but there is something special about seeing it the way it once was, rather than the way it is now. The fact that these pictures are of a rural community, makes them an extra special find. If you haven’t already, I invite you to go to Vintage Aerial and request a look up of your childhood home.

P.S. My slideshow was completely free, and I do not get any money for recommending this site to you, it is just a neat experience I want to share with others.