On a recent trip to visit family, my dad showed me an old family bible of the Barns branch of the family. Margaret Barns was my great-great grandmother. In the center of the bible was a series of pages to record births, deaths, and marriages.
Family bibles can be a source of information for genealogy research. Originally, people wrote on the inside front and back covers. In the late 1700’s printers started adding special pages for the recording of information. (Read more about this here.)
As some of you may know, I work at the local REI store, selling camping equipment. When you hire on at REI, they ask you to name your favorite outdoor place, and they have it engraved on your name tag, below your name. The other people in my hire group were naming off all the big-name, big-deal destinations. You had Yellowstone, The Grand Canyon, The Smokies, and so on.
When it came my turn, I didn’t have a good answer. I’d never been to the places the other folks mentioned, though I wanted to see them all.
We had been designated the family historians and had spent many a delightful weekend going through pictures and slides with Georgie, recording stories and enjoying our time with her. When Georgie died, we spent many weekends with Walt’s brothers going through all the items in the house.
As our family went through my mother’s personal effects, we discovered these essays, handwritten in a spiral notebook. Immediately, we knew we had found a very special look into the early life of someone we loved and admired. We’re sharing them here in the hope that others may enjoy them as well.
These essays are being written because I have often thought how nice it would be if, say, my great-grandmother had written about what life was like when she was growing up. It would have been so interesting to know how people’s daily life and experiences fitted in with the history that was being made at that time.
North of the house, down in a draw, an old man, Marian Reif, had built a one room cabin. Some of the walls were sides of the draw. He had come to my Grandpa’s. I can’t remember if he was selling something or just a vagrant. He lived there a year or two anyway – had some chickens. I suppose Grandpa gave him milk and meat. I think he had a garden. I know my mother gave him food sometimes. He got sick finally and couldn’t stay alone anymore and the went to the county home where we went to see him once. When he died he was buried in the Summitville Church Cemetery.
As our family went through my mother’s personal effects, we discovered these essays, handwritten in a spiral notebook. Immediately, we knew we had found a very special look into the early life of someone we loved and admired. We’re sharing them here in the hope that others may enjoy them as well.
These essays are being written because I have often thought how nice it would be if, say, my great-grandmother had written about what life was like when she was growing up. It would have been so interesting to know how people’s daily life and experiences fitted in with the history that was being made at that time.
North of the house, down in a draw, an old man, Marian Reif, had built a one room cabin. Some of the walls were sides of the draw. He had come to my Grandpa’s. I can’t remember if he was selling something or just a vagrant. He lived there a year or two anyway – had some chickens. I suppose Grandpa gave him milk and meat. I think he had a garden. I know my mother gave him food sometimes. He got sick finally and couldn’t stay alone anymore and the went to the county home where we went to see him once. When he died he was buried in the Summitville Church Cemetery.
I try to find gifts for people that work well for their interests. Walt and I also do some creative gift wrapping. Several years ago, I made boxes of fabric to “wrap” gifts for my sister and mom.
As our family went through my mother’s personal effects, we discovered these essays, handwritten in a spiral notebook. Immediately, we knew we had found a very special look into the early life of someone we loved and admired. We’re sharing them here in the hope that others may enjoy them as well.
These essays are being written because I have often thought how nice it would be if, say, my great-grandmother had written about what life was like when she was growing up. It would have been so interesting to know how people’s daily life and experiences fitted in with the history that was being made at that time.
We enjoyed having company overnight. Sometimes they would stay a few days in bad weather, when there was some school activity in the evening and the time when Uncle Ben broke his leg getting up wood and when their little brother, Donald, was sick with pneumonia. He died (March 24, 1929), was buried on a Sunday, which saddened us all. On March 11, 1932, our little brother, Arthur, died of pneumonia which was also heartbreaking. (Read more about Arthur here.)
As our family went through my mother’s personal effects, we discovered these essays, handwritten in a spiral notebook. Immediately, we knew we had found a very special look into the early life of someone we loved and admired. We’re sharing them here in the hope that others may enjoy them as well.
These essays are being written because I have often thought how nice it would be if, say, my great-grandmother had written about what life was like when she was growing up. It would have been so interesting to know how people’s daily life and experiences fitted in with the history that was being made at that time.
We enjoyed having company overnight. Sometimes they would stay a few days in bad weather, when there was some school activity in the evening and the time when Uncle Ben broke his leg getting up wood and when their little brother, Donald, was sick with pneumonia. He died (March 24, 1929), was buried on a Sunday, which saddened us all. On March 11, 1932, our little brother, Arthur, died of pneumonia which was also heartbreaking. (Read more about Arthur here.)
As our family went through my mother’s personal effects, we discovered these essays, handwritten in a spiral notebook. Immediately, we knew we had found a very special look into the early life of someone we loved and admired. We’re sharing them here in the hope that others may enjoy them as well.
These essays are being written because I have often thought how nice it would be if, say, my great-grandmother had written about what life was like when she was growing up. It would have been so interesting to know how people’s daily life and experiences fitted in with the history that was being made at that time.
My mother often spoke of her parents’ early days in the United States and I hardly listened to my regret. I think my Grandfather Wellman came to New Orleans and then up the Mississippi. I don’t know if he came by train from St. Louis or how that was. He came to Fort Madison and went to work up in Green Bay (near Wever) for a family named Lange. He learned English after he came to this country, spoke with a German accent and was much more comfortable in German of course. My Grandmother Catherine Krumpelman Wellman came later and went to stay with some cousins named Rhinehardt in Nauvoo, Ill. When my grandparents married, they rented a farm west of West Point where their first child, Uncle Ben, was born. When the second child, Uncle George, was born in August 1888, Grandpa had gone to the mill when Grandma went into labor. She took Uncle Ben and walked to the Kaltefleiter place (now Gary Fedler’s) and had Uncle George there. Shortly after that they moved to what we called the Schumaker place (now Albert Neuweg’s) where my mother was born April 2, 1890. They lived there until 1915 or 1916 – about the time my folks were married. My grandmother died while they lived there, 1904, also my Uncle Frank, in 1896, a child of 4.
As our family went through my mother’s personal effects, we discovered these essays, handwritten in a spiral notebook. Immediately, we knew we had found a very special look into the early life of someone we loved and admired. We’re sharing them here in the hope that others may enjoy them as well.
These essays are being written because I have often thought how nice it would be if, say, my great-grandmother had written about what life was like when she was growing up. It would have been so interesting to know how people’s daily life and experiences fitted in with the history that was being made at that time.
My mother often spoke of her parents’ early days in the United States and I hardly listened to my regret. I think my Grandfather Wellman came to New Orleans and then up the Mississippi. I don’t know if he came by train from St. Louis or how that was. He came to Fort Madison and went to work up in Green Bay (near Wever) for a family named Lange. He learned English after he came to this country, spoke with a German accent and was much more comfortable in German of course. My Grandmother Catherine Krumpelman Wellman came later and went to stay with some cousins named Rhinehardt in Nauvoo, Ill. When my grandparents married, they rented a farm west of West Point where their first child, Uncle Ben, was born. When the second child, Uncle George, was born in August 1888, Grandpa had gone to the mill when Grandma went into labor. She took Uncle Ben and walked to the Kaltefleiter place (now Gary Fedler’s) and had Uncle George there. Shortly after that they moved to what we called the Schumaker place (now Albert Neuweg’s) where my mother was born April 2, 1890. They lived there until 1915 or 1916 – about the time my folks were married. My grandmother died while they lived there, 1904, also my Uncle Frank, in 1896, a child of 4.
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