In a few posts, I have been discussing some of the challenges of identifying people when you are doing genealogical research. I covered immigration and census records in this post. I talked about some of the difficulties encountered in translation and working with older documents in this post.
Today, I am going to look at some naming conventions that can make it difficult to determine exactly who you are looking at.
Our dog Jaxon loves to hike with us. I needed a leash that would work while hiking, sometimes with a large pack on my back. Since I use two trekking poles when I am on the trail, my hands needed to free.
When you’re an eight year old boy there’s really only one answer to that.
We were standing in Grandma’s kitchen. It was usually a busy place, especially when there was family visiting. And there was a bunch of family – my aunt and uncle had brought Grandma’s cousin Elanor from Germany out to visit, so they were there, along with their kids. There were other relatives there too. I don’t really recall who, exactly. But it was a pretty full house that night. The place should have been full of noise and laughter, and the kitchen should have been full of people. Earlier that night it had been. But now Mom and I had the room to ourselves. Strange.
Isadore Link was born in New Vienna, Iowa, on April 4, 1860, and lived most of his life on a farm northwest of West Point. He was the son of William J Link and Mary Ann Sauter.
Isadore married Teresa Kempker on April 17, 1882. Teresa was born on October 10, 1859, the daughter of John and Catherine Kempker.
A picture of Isadore as a young man (not sure of the date) and Teresa from the 1890s.
They had a large family and most of the family stayed in southeastern Iowa, living in and near West Point and Burlington.
Picture of the Isadore Link family on their farm, taken in 1903. Standing in the back are William and John. Across the front is Isadore, Leo, Ada, Charles, Kathryn, Albert, Teresa holding Robert, and Louise.
Isadore died on February 24, 1944. Teresa died on March 21, 1913, when Robert was just 10 years old.
I’m a sucker for a dramatic sunset. I love to simply sit quietly, watching the sunset progress, soaking it in. Watching until the end. Dayhikers can’t do that. They have to get back before dark. Back to the car, back home. But the backpacker is already home. They can afford to sit quietly. They can soak it in.
I remember a quilting class where the instructor had a porcupine quill in her tools. It seemed like an odd item to find in a sewing kit, but when she showed us how she used it, I promptly got one for myself.
Holding down the seam allowance.
When you are making a quilt, you sew across multiple seams, and it can be difficult to get everything to lie flat while you are doing this. A stiletto helps keep things lined up and neat.
The long narrow tip allows you to guide the fabric through the machine without getting you fingers close to the needle. I personally have never (knock on wood) stitched through a finger, but I know a number of people who have.
You can use a stiletto to punch a hole in fabric or leather, either for stitching of adding grommets. It can be used to help turn the edge of applique under before stitching it down.
A fancy brass stiletto
I had seen a brass stiletto with a needle tip. It had a cap to protect the tip from getting damaged and reduce the risk of it poking anyone or anything when not in use. I showed it to Walt, and he decided he would try to make one. He made several, some which were used a gifts and some that were sold.
He will show you more about how he made them in one of his shop project posts.
I use mine every time I am at the sewing machine.
The porcupine quill I started with and the brass stiletto Walt made for me.
Last week, I showed Maria Catherina Krumpelmann’s birth certificate and the process used to translate it. That was not the only document that was translated for us. Today, we’ll take a look at Gerhard Wellman’s service record. The same process was used as in the other document.