tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56044668832563420362024-03-13T10:09:41.098-05:00Before My Timeconfessions of an amateur genealogistPhil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-8818653086634093772018-10-18T12:11:00.001-05:002018-10-18T12:11:14.037-05:00My Mom's Story<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I started researching my family history, I had my eyes set
on distant ancestors - those who came over on the Mayflower, or fought in the
Civil War. I thought I knew everything there was to know about my recent and
immediate family. But one day when casually talking with my mom, I learned
there was more to her story than I thought.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A <u>LOT</u> more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mother was born on a plantation in West Tennessee. Yes,
there were still plantations after the Civil War. Like many others, this one
had a large home as the center piece. And it was run like a large business. The
land was occupied by managers who oversaw every aspect of the livestock and
crop production, and tenant farmers who leased the land from the plantation for
a portion of their crop. My grandfather was one of the tenant farmers. He met
and fell in love with my grandmother whose parents were a little higher up on
the chain of command. And they didn’t think too much of my grandfather and his
family. So they forced the couple apart. But not before my mother was conceived.
She was born and raised by her father and his parents, just a mile or two away
from her mother’s family. Every day she would ride the school bus past a house
she knew contained a mother she believed didn’t love her and didn’t want her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As time went on, she met my father, got married and had children
(including me). Her father eventually remarried but was killed shortly after in a fire. It was about this time my mom was offered the opportunity to
reconnect with her mother. Cousins and her half-siblings arranged a meeting
where they hashed some things out. My mother finally learned the truth – that her
mother DID love her and DID want her, but was prohibited from seeing her by her
parents. Over time, all was forgiven and they grew closer and closer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My grandmother was always around while I was growing up. She
would spend Christmas with us, having long talks with my mother at the kitchen
table. I thought nothing about it. I figured they were close like most mothers
and daughters. While us kids were watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” or
playing outside, they just sat and talked for hours.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My grandmother passed away many years ago. But learning
about her and my mother’s story rewrote my memories. They weren’t just talking
at the kitchen table all those Christmases. They were catching up. They were
making up for lost time. My mother also got to know and grew close to her
half-siblings – a sister and brother. Raised like an only child, she often
dreamed of having brothers or sisters to play with. When it was possible, my
aunt and uncle took photos of them as babies/children at around the same year
and had them photoshopped together – the childhood photo they always wanted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was recently reading the New Testament of my Bible which
has a lot of adoption metaphors. (Romans 8:15, 23, Ephesians 1:5, Galatians
4:4-5) When I compared these to other scriptures that tell us we are sons and
daughters of God (Genesis 1:27, Galatians 3:26, Galatians 4:7), I made a
connection with my mother’s story.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mother wasn’t adopted. She wasn’t a step-child. She wasn’t
a foster child. She was a full-blooded daughter who’s relationship with her
mother was broken…and then restored.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Isn’t that The Bible in a nutshell?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God conceived and created us. Then sin entered the picture
and severed our relationship. But God continued to love and want us. And He
pursued us until we were reunited with Him through Jesus Christ.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two things I want you to take away from this:</div>
<br />
<ol>
<li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span>Don’t assume you know anyone’s full story. There’s
probably more to it and them than you will ever know. I hope this leads you to
treat everyone with grace and love.</li>
<li>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You are a child of God. You may feel separated
from Him. But He is out there and He wants to know you.</span></li>
</ol>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-34879694585344654552018-01-15T11:41:00.001-06:002018-01-15T11:41:40.634-06:00The LuezGenealogy is more than just people. It’s also the places in our family history.<br />
<br />
I grew up in a small town that had a one-screen movie theater called the Luez. I have so many fond memories at this theater. This is where I saw <i>E.T.</i> phone home, Marty McFly go <i>Back to the Future</i> and <i>The Goonies</i> find One-Eyed-Willie’s treasure. I can still taste the Twix and smell the popcorn.<br />
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It was opened in the 1930’s by Louise Mask. When she built the current building in the 40’s a naming contest resulted in the shortened version of Ms. Mask’s name “LUEZ”. According to those who remember her, Miss Louise was a very conservative and stern woman. She would preview each movie before showing it to make sure it didn’t have any objectionable content. She never allowed food or drink inside the theater, insisting patrons enjoy their soda and popcorn in the lobby or outside. She was known to pace the isles to enforce this rule and to make sure couples were behaving decently.<br />
<br />
Like many small town theaters, the Luez fell on hard times when multiplexes came along. It closed and reopened a few times over the years. But my town has been going through a revitalization, remodeling many of the main street buildings and holding outdoor music events and fundraisers. The Luez is one of those gems being preserved. When I heard about this I was so happy! Not only was the building going to be preserved and restored, but plans were made to make it into a multi-use movie/music venue!<br />
<br />
I live 3 hours away, so I’m not able to attend and support these efforts as much as I’d like. But thanks to social media I can watch and support from afar. Just recently they restored the neon marquee.<br />
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When they printed t-shirts to raise money, my brother and sister-in-law got me one as a Christmas gift. And just this past Christmas, I got another token keepsake.<br />
<br />
I had heard from a friend that they were finally replacing the seats in the theater. I made some calls and my family picked up a couple of the old seats that were just going to be thrown out. The cast-iron isle sides and armrests, as well as the cloth fold-down seats were a little dingy but have otherwise held up. My family picked up a couple that were in good shape.<br />
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Over the next few weeks, my other brother and sister-in-law cleaned them up and gave them a fresh coat of paint. Then they gave them to me at Christmas! It was my favorite gift this year!<br />
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<br />
Seeing the chairs and talking about the theater sparked my parents’ memories of the dates they had at the Luez. Maybe they sat in these very chairs!<br />
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<br />
We posted pictures of the refinished chairs on facebook and the comments flew! While everyone in town knew about the theater restoration, it never occurred to anyone else to pick up some of the old seats and restore them for themselves. The theater probably could have sold them to raise money toward the restoration. Many asked us if they had any more and how they could get their hands on them. We don’t know if there were any chairs left or if anyone got some. But I wouldn’t be surprised if some show up in antique shops or find good homes in other places in the area.<br />
<br />
As for mine, they will be proudly displayed in my living room. I plan to add isle lights into the sides just as there were in the theater. And I look forward to sharing them with family and friends who visit my home for years to come.<br />
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Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-20200926738519214632017-10-30T12:15:00.002-05:002017-10-30T12:15:48.418-05:00Living ColorHave you come across those online articles or slide shows of historical black and white photos that have been colorized? They haven’t run them through some automated process but rather painstakingly researched and recreated the hues and patterns of the day and carefully applied them precisely to bring the old photos to life. What captures my imagination is the way this brings a new dimension to the photographs. It makes Abraham Lincoln seem less like a marble statue and more like a flesh and blood human being. It makes Mark Twain look like he could get up and start spinning a yarn. They look like photographs that could have been taken yesterday.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ri6wAhWWH10/Wfdd3uPZycI/AAAAAAAAAR8/UtcKDJJ1gFAR10ZwCeOyRENveh0lu6MDQCLcBGAs/s1600/abraham-lincoln-1865-cch_1-preview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ri6wAhWWH10/Wfdd3uPZycI/AAAAAAAAAR8/UtcKDJJ1gFAR10ZwCeOyRENveh0lu6MDQCLcBGAs/s320/abraham-lincoln-1865-cch_1-preview.jpg" width="272" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W13ylSievwY/Wfdd7NXUUTI/AAAAAAAAASA/J8kgBUb44bAanaYDVN7GispgH9LwI5hEgCLcBGAs/s1600/0f505c5e7e0b5e6aa410c83d5024686b--colorized-photos-writers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="661" data-original-width="736" height="287" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W13ylSievwY/Wfdd7NXUUTI/AAAAAAAAASA/J8kgBUb44bAanaYDVN7GispgH9LwI5hEgCLcBGAs/s320/0f505c5e7e0b5e6aa410c83d5024686b--colorized-photos-writers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.retronaut.com/" target="_blank">The Retronaut</a> has released a <a href="https://thepapertimemachine.com/" target="_blank">book of colorized photos</a>. I might pick one up for a Christmas gift. Maybe even one for my own coffee table.</div>
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If you will permit me to spin this into a metaphor, your family history could also benefit from colorization. What do I mean by this? I mean that it can be more than names, dates, birth certificates, death certificates and tombstones. It can be about personalities, stories, tales and legends. The farther back you go, the harder these might be to come by. This is why it’s important to talk to grandparents and even great-grandparents. Ask them what their parents and grandparents were like. Ask them about physical features (even if you have photographs) and memories of them. Record them on video or audio. This will not only revive the memories of those long gone, it will preserve aspects of your interview subject as well.<br />
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I’ve come across stories and details like this from other sources as well. Some of my Civil War ancestors recounted their experiences in local newspapers. Some of them even filled out questionnaires for historical preservation societies that included details about their family histories.<br />
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Try colorizing your family tree with the colors and flavors of human experience. A family history dipped in story makes a tasty treat for generations to come.<br />
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Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-18746429204727359212017-07-06T07:54:00.000-05:002017-07-06T07:54:41.070-05:00The Rub on Rubbings
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Remember that scene in </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Indiana
Jones and the Last Crusade</span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> when Indy is in the catacombs and finds the
remains of a knight from the crusades? He takes out a large sheet of paper to
complete a rubbing from a stone tablet that matches the knight’s shield. I’d
heard of people doing the same thing with headstones. Like Indiana Jones, I
thought this was more for informational purposes. But in researching how to
properly do it, it seems lots of people ply this hobby for the artistry of the
stone carvings as something interesting to hang on their wall</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I say why can’t it be both?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">During my recent trip along the National Road I found the
need to do a rubbing in order to read a really old headstone. I purchased some packing
paper that looked big enough and a small pack of crayons hoping these would do
the trick. They didn’t. We were only able to read a few more words than before.</span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Uzb1PL1V8A8/WV4xuQQsNwI/AAAAAAAAARY/SaVbqKs92PMQaRdG5jtu9JbUt_oYq3neACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Uzb1PL1V8A8/WV4xuQQsNwI/AAAAAAAAARY/SaVbqKs92PMQaRdG5jtu9JbUt_oYq3neACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0604.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Weeks later I wanted to give it another shot. This time on a
legible headstone from my family tree that was closer to home. </span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I did a little more research. Most of my
findings recommended things like interfacing paper, rubbing wax and other such
tools that my local arts and crafts stores didn’t carry. I decided to make due
with what I could find – the packing paper, crayons and maybe some charcoal
sticks.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I chose my most recent genealogical person of interest, my
3x great grandfather Lewis Pearce. He’s buried in my hometown so I paid him a
visit last time I was there. The paper was just big enough, almost as if it was
made for this headstone. The charcoal produced a decent rubbing but it was very
messy. I’d recommend rubber gloves if you use it. Or have access to a sink or
at least bottles of water and a roll of paper towels.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I thought the end result was an interesting conversation
piece. So I bought a frame and hung it on my wall.</span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hBoBUXdFhm8/WV4yEio0tHI/AAAAAAAAARc/LYFQPZob-D8FxSBAHR74nvQ6CYHe4dUZACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0766%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hBoBUXdFhm8/WV4yEio0tHI/AAAAAAAAARc/LYFQPZob-D8FxSBAHR74nvQ6CYHe4dUZACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0766%255B1%255D.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My wife’s historical preservation training taught me to
print a label for the back of the frame that might be handy if it ever changed
hands or became illegible.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_MaB1ljnSAE/WV4yP6Cx8TI/AAAAAAAAARg/huQxy1FPBqklC5Z9tp-FmBUUIgsix-RGACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0768%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_MaB1ljnSAE/WV4yP6Cx8TI/AAAAAAAAARg/huQxy1FPBqklC5Z9tp-FmBUUIgsix-RGACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0768%255B1%255D.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s not the most beautiful headstone, rubbing or wall art.
But it’s personal, it has a great story and its about a real person. So, for my money,
it works.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-39190027215822648122017-06-15T08:16:00.000-05:002017-06-15T08:16:25.497-05:00A Second Look<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One of the great things about genealogy is that it isn’t
always a solitary hobby. It enters you into a community of people doing the
same work that sometimes intersects with yours. Since beginning my journey I
have met many people (some relatives, some not) in chat rooms, through web
sites or even in grave yards. But not everyone starts their journey at the same
time. And not all journeys happen at the same pace. This is why it can be
beneficial to periodically revisit web sites you’ve already searched. You never
know what information or hidden gems could have been added since you were last
there. Case in point…</div>
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A while back I highlighted my 3x great grandfather <a href="http://b4mytime.blogspot.com/2010/04/profile-lewis-e-pierce.html" target="_blank">LewisPierce</a>. He fought in the Civil War and is buried not far from where I grew up.
I already had some great information on him including newspaper articles and a
couple grainy photographs. So I thought this was all I was ever going to get.
When I recently started using the <a href="https://findagrave.com/" target="_blank">FindAGrave</a> smartphone app, I discovered
someone had added to his listing and even included some great photographs!<o:p></o:p></div>
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UAtzhp75Rsk/WUKH-OXQh0I/AAAAAAAAARE/ygoBRvPfS0MlzfKbWGkryBnnNQOe6O4rgCLcBGAs/s1600/Lewis%2BPierce%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="516" height="235" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UAtzhp75Rsk/WUKH-OXQh0I/AAAAAAAAARE/ygoBRvPfS0MlzfKbWGkryBnnNQOe6O4rgCLcBGAs/s320/Lewis%2BPierce%2B2.jpg" width="320" /></a><div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BEF9Ko18_jo/WUKIEWm_dbI/AAAAAAAAARI/xSt3c2QFrXg3awCorE2tsW-lr4n6vOUKACLcBGAs/s1600/Lewis%2BPierce%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="384" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BEF9Ko18_jo/WUKIEWm_dbI/AAAAAAAAARI/xSt3c2QFrXg3awCorE2tsW-lr4n6vOUKACLcBGAs/s320/Lewis%2BPierce%2B1.jpg" width="227" /></a><br /><div class="MsoNormal">
I messaged the poster
but haven’t heard back yet. Hopefully I will. And hopefully it will yield even
more revelations.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But genealogist beware. More people posting things can also
mean more misinformation. So I would advise you to discern you information. Get
verification from at least one other official and objective source like a
census record or death certificate.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-11004240493574317932017-06-07T09:59:00.002-05:002017-06-07T09:59:21.748-05:00What A Card!Old timey photos have become popular fodder in the greeting card industry. Especially <a href="http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/" target="_blank">awkward family photos</a> or stern-faced black & whites. But this article takes the cake for digging up the past while wishing someone a happy birthday!<br />
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<a href="http://www.theepochtimes.com/n3/2255080-family-buys-hilarious-b-day-card-for-grandpa-finds-out-it-has-old-family-photo/">http://www.theepochtimes.com/n3/2255080-family-buys-hilarious-b-day-card-for-grandpa-finds-out-it-has-old-family-photo/</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-82801355596636348282017-05-29T10:13:00.002-05:002017-05-29T11:12:41.435-05:00Road Trip to the Past - Day 8: “The National Road” and “Returning to the Present”<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Our final stop was <a href="https://www.ohiohistory.org/visit/museum-and-site-locator/national-road-and-zane-grey-museum" target="_blank">The National Road and Zane Grey Museum</a> in
Zanesville, OH. This quaint little museum looks like it is housed in a former
theater. But its impressive exhibits and very eager staff made it a worthwhile
stop. It gave us great perspective on the history of The National Road and the role of its coach drivers
(like Parris Eaches).</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0zitsAjN0cw/WSMNvq4DY6I/AAAAAAAAAOU/qpM6vXXpvqQJrm-ocZcdckwSriYK2AcugCLcB/s1600/IMG_0611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0zitsAjN0cw/WSMNvq4DY6I/AAAAAAAAAOU/qpM6vXXpvqQJrm-ocZcdckwSriYK2AcugCLcB/s320/IMG_0611.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8I2OCJjQ6eQ/WSMN4z4SVKI/AAAAAAAAAOg/4uJ1GJUlbEsXhS5HHcQOdbgfVebBOGumwCLcB/s1600/IMG_0612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8I2OCJjQ6eQ/WSMN4z4SVKI/AAAAAAAAAOg/4uJ1GJUlbEsXhS5HHcQOdbgfVebBOGumwCLcB/s320/IMG_0612.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z6xwd-wTYgw/WSMN47U6Z-I/AAAAAAAAAOY/pDpEzdPIWFQfhhntBPLz3TnU2ZxYXX84ACLcB/s1600/IMG_0616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z6xwd-wTYgw/WSMN47U6Z-I/AAAAAAAAAOY/pDpEzdPIWFQfhhntBPLz3TnU2ZxYXX84ACLcB/s320/IMG_0616.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IBjJjqv6Uv0/WSMN484sZ4I/AAAAAAAAAOc/V45RD_eiff8v-0w-Bcqqdb9nXSUHitGVACLcB/s1600/IMG_0615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IBjJjqv6Uv0/WSMN484sZ4I/AAAAAAAAAOc/V45RD_eiff8v-0w-Bcqqdb9nXSUHitGVACLcB/s320/IMG_0615.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The staff even allowed my wife to peruse
their collection of books and research materials where she found an entry about
Parris!</div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7gboJGp2zqI/WSMOLIzPcYI/AAAAAAAAAOk/v6ph2BkuNP0vedzVypsiSh0YNEbPCiySwCLcB/s1600/IMG_0617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7gboJGp2zqI/WSMOLIzPcYI/AAAAAAAAAOk/v6ph2BkuNP0vedzVypsiSh0YNEbPCiySwCLcB/s320/IMG_0617.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fivZh0tC2DM/WSMO5c2P8II/AAAAAAAAAOs/y1tLuWeUGDk-oZl7r--lQV5t9HgVn9g7ACLcB/s1600/Parris%2Bentry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="108" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fivZh0tC2DM/WSMO5c2P8II/AAAAAAAAAOs/y1tLuWeUGDk-oZl7r--lQV5t9HgVn9g7ACLcB/s400/Parris%2Bentry.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Then, like birds in the fall, we started heading south
again. Our time on the road was up. We had to head home and back to the present. We still didn’t touch our CDs, discussing our trip, highlights, what all
we saw and found, and what we’d like to research in the future.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Parris was the character I was most interested in going into
this trip. But I met a lot of other colorful characters along the way. And
while census records and other publications disagree about the spelling of his
name, we feel confident it was with 2 R’s. Maybe one day we’ll raise some money
and put up a marker in South Side Cemetery for him and his family.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, weeks after returning home, my wife is still on fire
for researching her family history. She is still deep in that rabbit hole. And
I’ll admit I’ve started to wade back into mine. Maybe a trip to North Carolina
is in our future. I wonder what distant Bakers lie waiting there to be
rediscovered.<o:p></o:p></div>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-15616337194702265872017-05-28T08:00:00.001-05:002017-05-28T12:23:53.763-05:00Road Trip to the Past - Day 7: “Genial Genealogists” and “Old New Galilee”<div class="MsoNormal">
Back in research mode, we started the day in the nearby and
newly-formed Beaver County Genealogy and History Center. Housed in an old 9-1-1
call center bunker, we found a wealth of information that included tax records,
land deeds, bound newspaper archives and more. And the volunteers here were a
huge help! They even used their <a href="http://ancestry.com/">ancestry.com</a> membership to help us find more!<o:p></o:p></div>
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We ate lunch at a cute downtown diner in Beaver then set our
sites on New Galilee. We were now entering the realm of recent memory for my
father-in-law. He remembered visiting his grandparents here. His father
even mowed the cemetery where we found our next group of relatives.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YYX2ti3iDvw/WSrLsyVD5jI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/XMFaG8QUqWoMoUPw4urSP4cCOd0twtLNgCLcB/s1600/IMG_0577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YYX2ti3iDvw/WSrLsyVD5jI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/XMFaG8QUqWoMoUPw4urSP4cCOd0twtLNgCLcB/s320/IMG_0577.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
His memory
was helpful in finding a lot of the headstones. But some of the more distant
relatives were a little harder to find. One such was hiding behind some
flowers. We tried doing a rubbing of these hard-to-read tombstones but even
that was difficult. One tombstone was covered in moss that I tried to scrape
away with my shoe. Other markers were flush with the ground and thus covered
with mud that we easily washed away with water.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3j-KT9-pUn8/WSMMkRCShMI/AAAAAAAAAOI/xImuofJnDc01SHWYUVgzYMmEBVfO7fLCQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3j-KT9-pUn8/WSMMkRCShMI/AAAAAAAAAOI/xImuofJnDc01SHWYUVgzYMmEBVfO7fLCQCLcB/s320/IMG_0567.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>TIP:</b> <span style="color: red;">Bring tombstone cleaning supplies when visiting old
cemeteries. Include a brush, water and pick tools to clean out
lettering.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><br /></span></div>
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<b>TIP:</b> <span style="color: red;">Rubbings would be a fun kids activity when visiting a
graveyard or cemetery. You can also create a game of bingo by giving them a
list of names of graves to find.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: red;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EaV2djxY-ik/WSm8HXgA5iI/AAAAAAAAAQg/oPofpC6lIasSl8BnJgTt3xlgkZaBWBu1QCLcB/s1600/IMG_0642.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="186" data-original-width="167" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EaV2djxY-ik/WSm8HXgA5iI/AAAAAAAAAQg/oPofpC6lIasSl8BnJgTt3xlgkZaBWBu1QCLcB/s1600/IMG_0642.png" /></a><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EaV2djxY-ik/WSm8HXgA5iI/AAAAAAAAAQg/oPofpC6lIasSl8BnJgTt3xlgkZaBWBu1QCLcB/s1600/IMG_0642.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Using my smartphone, we double checked the listings for this
cemetery on <a href="http://findagrave.com/">findagrave.com</a>. Later we learned just how helpful the smartphone
app for this site would have been. Not only does it give you the listings for
each cemetery, it also has a map feature that shows you each cemetery in your
area! If only I had downloaded this in Donegal!<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Downtown New Galilee showed us the Nazarene Church where an
uncle was pastor.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cGM3_vIC1MM/WSMM8XQjqXI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Av8h7Ku-o_AG99OyrYiKcGuectByewusgCLcB/s1600/IMG_0605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cGM3_vIC1MM/WSMM8XQjqXI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Av8h7Ku-o_AG99OyrYiKcGuectByewusgCLcB/s320/IMG_0605.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
A few blocks away was the empty lot where my wife’s
great-grandparents' house once stood. Being a small town, our unfamiliar vehicle was
scrutinized by suspicious locals. But a conversation with a passerby put her at
ease.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="color: red;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>TIP:</b> <span style="color: red;">When visiting graveyards, cemeteries, or old sites, dress respectfully.
Especially if you are taking a lot of pictures. Dressing too casual could earn
you a conversation with a cop where you will bear the burden of proof for you
benign intentions.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-30411224512452416432017-05-27T09:39:00.000-05:002017-05-27T09:39:42.521-05:00Road Trip to the Past - Day 6: “Itchin’ for Eaches” or “Peaks and Pitts-burgh”<div class="MsoNormal">
We awoke the next day with renewed determination. First stop
– Pittsburgh’s South Side Cemetery, the final resting place of Parris Eaches. Pittsburgh
has a surprisingly diverse terrane of hills and flats that made navigation a
challenge. Across the river from downtown, we found the cemetery in an older
part of town. In the cemetery offices (yes, some larger cemeteries actually
have offices) we met a very patient employee who helped us pour through the
surprisingly detailed records for the locations of our relatives’ graves. </div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p8R93uwwXiw/WSMLHrCvMWI/AAAAAAAAAN0/iDKhrHeMnug4zIc35L3OOu1hU45hWVplgCLcB/s1600/IMG_0534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p8R93uwwXiw/WSMLHrCvMWI/AAAAAAAAAN0/iDKhrHeMnug4zIc35L3OOu1hU45hWVplgCLcB/s320/IMG_0534.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He highlighted
the relevant residents’ final resting places on a map of the grounds. High winds were
all that remained of the previous day’s storm, but that was enough to make our
searching difficult. The first few groupings were easy to find. But after
driving to the final area where we hoped to find Parris, we found nothing.
Another "shy grave". We returned to the office to look closer at their records.
The burial plot was clearly marked. But, after looking at other records, we
discovered that these Eaches were buried without headstones or memorials of any
kind.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tQP2L_eYuj0/WSMLQEX0vxI/AAAAAAAAAN4/KCw_l0ydBdIEjS9SKPH-tjr-6EM3huQ3gCLcB/s1600/Parris%2BEaches%2Bplot.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tQP2L_eYuj0/WSMLQEX0vxI/AAAAAAAAAN4/KCw_l0ydBdIEjS9SKPH-tjr-6EM3huQ3gCLcB/s320/Parris%2BEaches%2Bplot.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">My wife standing on the memorial-less plot of Parris Eaches.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
I was really disappointed. I was really hoping to find evidence
of Parris Eaches etched in stone. But genealogy can sometimes be a cruel
companion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not far from the cemetery, my wife directed us to addresses
she had recorded in her research. We found where Parris lived his last years.
An older house stood on the spot, suggesting this could've been his house!<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JhOzamag5l8/WSMLpfbbqLI/AAAAAAAAAN8/7ePcQQMRiLURlJByg-JG2-QXIynB9X-0ACLcB/s1600/Parris%2BEaches%2Bhouse.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JhOzamag5l8/WSMLpfbbqLI/AAAAAAAAAN8/7ePcQQMRiLURlJByg-JG2-QXIynB9X-0ACLcB/s320/Parris%2BEaches%2Bhouse.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Not
far away, we came to the childhood home of my wife’s grandmother. Old family photos matched the house. It was still here!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YSiLm0ELZkc/WSMLwpxL_3I/AAAAAAAAAOA/A9Qg3aDg93Qnli7TivkT5E5NR8lhoYUyACLcB/s1600/IMG_0550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YSiLm0ELZkc/WSMLwpxL_3I/AAAAAAAAAOA/A9Qg3aDg93Qnli7TivkT5E5NR8lhoYUyACLcB/s320/IMG_0550.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My father-in-law was
thrilled to find this place. The gentrified neighborhood preserved the simple
charm of the street where grandma would walk and roller-skate. The day was
looking up! So we headed up!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Grandma had always told of her days walking
around Pittsburgh and of riding the incline. So we found one of the two
inclines still in operation. </span><a href="http://www.duquesneincline.org/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Duquesne Inline</span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> (pronounced doo-KAIN) offers a
fun trip to the past, up the hill to Mt Washington, and a great view of
Pittsburgh!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zdXYwqSPbzQ/WSMKk6BD4yI/AAAAAAAAANs/I-vPFGTvT4oh7l-twH73x3PX7YOBpFp_wCLcB/s1600/IMG_0554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zdXYwqSPbzQ/WSMKk6BD4yI/AAAAAAAAANs/I-vPFGTvT4oh7l-twH73x3PX7YOBpFp_wCLcB/s1600/IMG_0554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zdXYwqSPbzQ/WSMKk6BD4yI/AAAAAAAAANs/I-vPFGTvT4oh7l-twH73x3PX7YOBpFp_wCLcB/s320/IMG_0554.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">
</span>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-54930081302115264212017-05-26T11:42:00.002-05:002017-05-26T11:42:53.979-05:00Road Trip to the Past - Day 5: “Boondogle in Donegal” or “Shy Graves”<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next
morning saw us backtracking a bit to see if we could find some family graves in
Donegal, PA. Our research showed some of our “persons of interest” buried in
Miller’s Cemetery. But we couldn’t find that particular cemetery listed online.
Experience taught us that cemeteries can change names like anything else. So we
thought we would just take some shots in the dark. We started with the city cemetery
near the center of town.<br />
<br />
Nothing.<br />
<br />
My father-in-law struck up a conversation
with a man mowing his yard adjacent to the cemetery. Turns out he also mows the
cemetery as well as a few others nearby. He didn’t know of Miller’s Cemetery.
But gave us directions to an older cemetery down the road. While this was
taking place, I searched Google Earth and spotted another cemetery up the road.
We visited both of these with no luck. Lots of cool old tombstones though.
Driving around, it became like a game of "slug bug" pointing out every cemetery we passed.
But we couldn’t get distracted.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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A bit
discouraged, we took another side trip to see <i><a href="http://www.fallingwater.org/" target="_blank">Fallingwaters</a></i>, the famous Frank Lloyd Wright house. The forest
canopy provided a cool retreat. You can tour the house for around $30. But we
opted for the abbreviated outside grounds tour (we peeked in a few windows,
though).<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IPw4WJ2aRQI/WSdGGceG5mI/AAAAAAAAAQI/aW_DERYV-AsbQPGSiaFfy1Bid7kGhmvgQCLcB/s1600/Lively.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IPw4WJ2aRQI/WSdGGceG5mI/AAAAAAAAAQI/aW_DERYV-AsbQPGSiaFfy1Bid7kGhmvgQCLcB/s320/Lively.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
While we ate
lunch there, we checked the weather and saw that a heavy storm was due to hit
Pittsburgh later that day. Since we were planning to visit more outdoor sites, we decided to change our plans and visit a genealogical research
center north of Pittsburgh and do downtown the following day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As we left <i>Fallingwaters </i>and headed north, we
stopped in Brownsville – the final resting place of a few more people. We found
the cemetery here in desperate need of mowing. As we spread out to locate the
headstones, we were playing chicken with the oncoming storm. The tall grass
and surrounding trees swayed in the wind, hissing at us to leave as the sky
grew dark. After finding only a few of our relatives, we finally retreated back
to the car. The remaining "shy graves" would have to wait for another time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EgApumkDdzI/WSMJ29r7dvI/AAAAAAAAANk/AMA-nSyneZooTGXagQdprnfqUp2t-w3NQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EgApumkDdzI/WSMJ29r7dvI/AAAAAAAAANk/AMA-nSyneZooTGXagQdprnfqUp2t-w3NQCLcB/s320/IMG_0516.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We drove
north, bypassing Pittsburgh while our windshield got spotted with
raindrops. Beaver County was another prominent location in our genealogy’s
geography. We found one of the county libraries but were quickly referred to
another that kept newspaper archives. We drove down the road to Aliquippa where
we found their impressive Carnegie library juxtaposed within an unimpressive
neighborhood. Searching their microfilmed newspaper archives yielded a few nuggets
of information to satisfy our wandering wet day.<o:p></o:p></div>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-18412735451238686372017-05-25T07:48:00.001-05:002017-05-25T15:30:10.418-05:00Road Trip to the Past - Day 4: “Truly, Deeply, Madley” or “Here Lies the Lybargers”<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lybarger is
a surname in my wife’s paternal line. Her grandmother told her how the
Lybargers had a church and memorial in a little town called Madley, PA where
they used to have reunions. So this would obviously have to be one of the stops
on our trip.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Leaving
Harrisburg behind, we set across the rural Pennsylvania countryside for Madley.
Thank goodness for smartphones and GPS. The route took us through some
beautiful countryside and cute little towns.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Finally, we
reached the Madley Township and the Lybarger Lutheran Church.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BKXT63BwgfU/WSYT3W9jDQI/AAAAAAAAAPM/JWrtHXUVq0smueCxr3ABzac1x88M2foDQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J3EdgFzyO_k/WSbQxNm9D-I/AAAAAAAAAPk/p_xfQoV6Ep4tXDjc4INPCODUjj2xggytwCLcB/s1600/IMG_0431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J3EdgFzyO_k/WSbQxNm9D-I/AAAAAAAAAPk/p_xfQoV6Ep4tXDjc4INPCODUjj2xggytwCLcB/s320/IMG_0431.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BKXT63BwgfU/WSYT3W9jDQI/AAAAAAAAAPM/JWrtHXUVq0smueCxr3ABzac1x88M2foDQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BKXT63BwgfU/WSYT3W9jDQI/AAAAAAAAAPM/JWrtHXUVq0smueCxr3ABzac1x88M2foDQCLcB/s320/IMG_0434.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
It was fitting
that our schedule had us arriving here on a Sunday. Regular Sunday services,
however, haven’t been held here since the 1980’s. The congregation had moved a
few hundred yards down the road into a new building that was now called the
Christ Evangelical Lutheran Church. But the church yard provided the first
tangible rewards of our journey.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mg7x7p6kKO0/WSbQ-WbxjxI/AAAAAAAAAPo/FJoBZNwCG3wb87Yel3xPGW9g68nFcHc0ACEw/s1600/IMG_0456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mg7x7p6kKO0/WSbQ-WbxjxI/AAAAAAAAAPo/FJoBZNwCG3wb87Yel3xPGW9g68nFcHc0ACEw/s320/IMG_0456.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Several Lybargers who fought in the
Revolutionary War were buried here. They lived in this area for several
generations, donating a portion of their farmland for the church building. It was a lovely hillside church and graveyard with a beautiful vista of the surrounding hills.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PStAuzkTwwg/WSbRavAFu9I/AAAAAAAAAP0/ssoPTdGp8zQJcbvm8753RQsq4TCXfcocQCEw/s1600/IMG_0482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PStAuzkTwwg/WSbRavAFu9I/AAAAAAAAAP0/ssoPTdGp8zQJcbvm8753RQsq4TCXfcocQCEw/s320/IMG_0482.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FCcSmrG7rsI/WSbQVwJ8yaI/AAAAAAAAAP0/LqXQPPIHz5ogOoENTUPv2M0x0tj669dkACEw/s1600/IMG_0481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FCcSmrG7rsI/WSbQVwJ8yaI/AAAAAAAAAP0/LqXQPPIHz5ogOoENTUPv2M0x0tj669dkACEw/s320/IMG_0481.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Unfortunately,
the only people with keys to the church no longer lived in the area so we
couldn’t go in the building. But, being Sunday, we chatted up the pastor of the
current congregation after their services ended. He was a very jolly fellow who
was eager to help and give us any history of the church he knew. And he pointed
out parts of the original church that had been incorporated into his building
such as a few of the stained-glass windows.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The rest of
the day was spent traveling closer to Pittsburgh. We passed through a few other
small towns with names that sounded familiar to my father-in-law. But our
energy was spent. So we checked into our next hotel. That night, after getting
some food in our stomachs, we did some more research online about family that
were buried in some of the small towns in this area. Even though we didn’t know
the exact cemeteries, or the locations of the ones we did know, we resolved to
visit some of these towns the next day in an attempt to find more family
graves.<o:p></o:p></div>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-73611244568707030782017-05-24T07:41:00.000-05:002017-05-24T07:41:32.609-05:00Road Trip to the Past - Day 3: “Getting Gettysburg” or “A Civil War Side Trip”<div class="MsoNormal">
Being history buffs, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to
visit<a href="https://www.nps.gov/gett/index.htm" target="_blank"> Gettysburg</a>. Having watched several movies about the battle, and read a
few books, we felt we knew the broad strokes. We purchased one of the driving
tour CDs and spent the day driving the route.<br />
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s interesting being from the south where most of the fighting
took place. Tennessee is strewn with battlefields, memorials, markers and
plaques. Gettysburg is a distilled form of that. Next to the memorial for the
Tennessee Regiments was a couple in Civil Was dress. Not employed by the park,
they take it upon themselves to dress up and pose of pictures for visitors as a
hobby.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t have any ancestors at Gettysburg. Neither did my
wife. But knowing the impact of the battle, that everyone at the time heard
about it, and that many of the people we were researching were alive in 1863,
it was fascinating to visit the epicenter for the event of that year.<o:p></o:p></div>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-27435636444122076502017-05-23T08:07:00.000-05:002017-05-23T12:52:41.715-05:00Road Trip to the Past - Day 2: “Archival Fail” or “Dusty Books to Tasty Treats”<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The
Pennsylvania state archives were housed in a tall, unremarkable, windowless
building in downtown Harrisburg. We arrived well prepared, ready to give
assignments and go our separate ways, like the Scooby-Doo gang searching a
haunted amusement park. But we were quickly informed that old newspapers were
kept in local libraries and that our research avenues here would be limited.
But the friendly, helpful staff turned us onto <a href="http://familysearch.org/">familysearch.org</a> where we found
a few nuggets of information we didn’t previously have. Not having done
research recently on my own family tree, I was unaware and unfamiliar with this
new site. But the recent boom of interest in ancestry and family history has
provided more places to do remote research. While this was research we could
have done prior to our trip, we were thankful to have done it now.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So we called
it a day (as far as family research. No one in our family tree lived in this
area) and decided to take advantage of being near Hershey, Pennsylvania.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Being out of
season, Hershey Park was closed. But you could still visit the <a href="https://www.hersheys.com/chocolateworld/en_us.html" target="_blank">Hershey Chocolate Tour</a>. The “free” tour was tantamount to Disney’s “It’s A Small World
After All” – an automated indoor ride through the “virtual” chocolate making
process with animated tour guide characters. But we each got a mini Hershey bar
at the end of the ride! There was a tour through the real chocolate factory
that was more expensive. But we were satisfied with just a taste. We did
indulge in a chocolate milkshake on the advice of the front desk person at our
hotel.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>TIP: </b><span style="color: red;">Do research about libraries and archive locations ahead of
time. Most do not allow certain materials inside their facilities. And you will
likely need change to print or make copies.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-18019208009691545972017-05-22T08:08:00.000-05:002017-05-22T08:08:39.076-05:00Road Trip to the Past - Day 1: “Fun on 81” or “Storied Pasts”<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The first
leg of our trip was up interstate 81 to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Because travel
would take all day, we had no agenda other than to get there. We packed a mix
of CDs for the car but never actually listened to them. Instead we talked about
family history – stories about immediate family, memories of parents and
grandparents, and secondhand stories about great grandparents and further back.
Some of these secondhand stories came from my in-laws. Some came from my wife’s
research. The ones from my wife had been shared with her parents before and
were often met with blank stares or lukewarm interest. But as this trip went on
and we got more familiar with the citizens of this family tree, these stories
became more real, colorful and suddenly had context and texture.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I felt like
the roles were suddenly reversed. As a child at family reunions, I didn’t soak
in the stories and characters of my family tree. I wasn’t interested in it. I
was more interested in playing with cousins of similar age. I’m sure the older
set at these reunions were frustrated at the disinterest showed by their
younger counterparts. Now, as an amateur genealogist sharing facts and stories
with older family members, I often encounter apathy or mild interest at best.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s not
until someone becomes immersed in family history (intellectually,
geographically, or otherwise) that the spark is ignited within them. And that’s
what this trip was all about. My wife commented that her interest had waned a
bit in recent years. But now she was on fire again for her family history!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>TIP: </b><span style="color: red;">Download
your computer files and research onto a flash drive or laptop so you can refer
to it on the road. Also, a personal hotspot or mifi is helpful to do research
on the road or in areas where an internet connection is unavailable.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-5466413216372903422017-05-17T15:38:00.000-05:002017-05-17T15:42:09.149-05:00The Splenda of an Agenda<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my reasons for reviving this blog is to chronicle a
trip my wife and I decided to take with her parents. We went to Pennsylvania
and Ohio to do some research on her family tree and visit some of the sites of
her paternal line. Taking valuable vacation time off work to do this, we wanted
to make sure we spent our time wisely and got the most out of this trip.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I’ve learned on this genealogical journey, you can chase
a lot of rabbit trails. When gas money and hotel costs are on the line, you
can’t afford any boondoggles. So we started by coming up with a strategy. What lines did we want to pursue? What individuals in our tree did
we want to focus on? What sites are associated with them that will yield the
most information or context?<o:p></o:p></div>
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At the top of the list is my wife’s 2x great grandfather,
Parris Eaches. We believed he was a stagecoach driver on the National Road and
was apparently a very colorful fellow. But we didn’t have much information
other than that. We didn’t even know if we had the correct spelling of his
first name! So we decided one of our first stops would be Harrisburg. As the
capital of PA, we believed their state archives should house all the census
records and newspaper obituaries we needed to fill in the blanks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then we planned to head west to Pittsburgh where he is
buried, and on to Ohio where his children eventually settled. Ohio is also home
to the <a href="https://www.ohiohistory.org/visit/museum-and-site-locator/national-road-and-zane-grey-museum">National
Road Museum</a> where we hoped to see some great artifacts and exhibits on the
history along Parris’ work route.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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Of course we also scheduled some other worthwhile stops like
Gettysburg. But we had fun constructing the guardrails for our family history
road trip adventure.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stay tuned for my account of our trip…</span>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-54469045491855504542017-03-24T08:14:00.000-05:002017-05-17T15:45:35.878-05:00Receiving Grace<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve
already written about <a href="http://b4mytime.blogspot.com/2009/12/adoption-family-tree-grafting.html">adoption</a>
here. But I recently got to experience it a little closer than before. My
sister-in-law and her husband just completed the foster-to-adoption journey and
we got to attend the final adoption court hearing. It was a joyous celebration
for all the family that came into the courtroom. The judge seemed to relish her
happy duty that morning as it sharply contrasted the other cases on her docket. Then she paused for pictures with the newly formed family.</span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2__V2B6gyVc/WNUbV3gLnbI/AAAAAAAAAMc/w_P1V0d6g5ccUooapavRDpzrVGBSPHSjACLcB/s1600/Graces%2Badoption.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2__V2B6gyVc/WNUbV3gLnbI/AAAAAAAAAMc/w_P1V0d6g5ccUooapavRDpzrVGBSPHSjACLcB/s320/Graces%2Badoption.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It was a very short proceeding. But the journey to get there
was a long one fraught with worry and frustrations. Watching this process
taught me a lot about God’s grace. First of all, the adopting couple chose this
little girl. Circumstances and many other factors eliminated other children,
funneling them into a relationship with her. The timing had to be right. And
several signs gave them peace about this particular child.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then the biological parents had to terminate their rights.
We are born into a sinful, broken world. Growing up here, we can get
comfortable and accepting of it. But when we come to Christ, we are making a
choice to break our bond with the world in order to pursue a relationship with
our true creator. But the world doesn’t easily let go. The process of divorcing
the world takes time and isn’t a straight path – there’s a lot of backsliding.
Most people never completely make this separation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My favorite part of the adoption hearing was that the child
was given her new name. Her legal identity was sealed that day along with her
familial identity. We saw Jesus do this to many of his followers – Simon became
Peter, Saul became Paul. A new name is symbolic of becoming a new person in
Christ. My new niece’s name – Grace.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Grace is now as much a part of the family as anyone born
into it. As I watch her grow, she will be a reminder to me of God’s grace and
how He adopted me into His family and how I was given His name as if I were His
own son worthy of His inheritance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;">#Godgaveusgrace</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-47703582996833074782017-02-13T12:58:00.002-06:002017-02-13T13:02:34.903-06:00A (not so) Long Way Home<div class="MsoNormal">
I just finished reading Saroo Brierley’s memoir “A Long Way
Home” on which the Oscar® nominated film <i>Lion</i>
is based. It is the story of a young boy from a small village in India who
falls asleep on a train and wakes up hundreds of miles from home with no idea
where he is or how to get back to his family. This boy is adopted by an Australian
couple and raised in Tasmania. Years later, as an adult, he uses Google Earth
to retrace is childhood trek to find his village and is reunited with his
family.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This story touched me because I remember when Google Earth
came out. The internet was still very slow compared to today’s high-speed
broadband. And I was living in California, almost the other side of the country
from where I grew up. Like most people, the first thing I did on Google Earth
was search my childhood home. I did this along with my coworkers who were
mostly from big cities like New York or Philadelphia. They were astonished to
see the green Tennessee forests and fields I grew up around compared to the
grids of streets and buildings they searched. Some thought I was raised a
country bumpkin after seeing the birds-eye-view of my hometown.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I think what captures us about this is seeing our childhood
homes like we’ve never seen it before – from above. Saroo Brierley comments on this in
his book. It was a remarkable tool to help him piece together his origins from
his fragmented memories. But the only way to be certain was to see it from the
ground.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“A Long Way Home” also reminded me of a not-so-long journey
I took about a year ago. I was in my hometown on a warm spring weekend with
nothing planned for the day. I was talking with my mother about how she grew up
on a plantation farming community. I asked her when she last visited her
childhood home and she said she hadn’t been there since she left as a pre-teen.
I was astonished! Since we had no plans and it was a beautiful day, we got in
the car and hit the road.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The plantation was just a short 15-20 minute drive away. We drove past the main plantation house, now a museum, and many farms
that were now operated by a state university. Finally we came to a field with
what seemed like a short driveway.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“The house was back there.” My mother pointed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Well, can we go there?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I don’t think anyone would mind.” I pushed “You know the
people around here. They wouldn’t care if we just looked around.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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So we parked the car and began walking. My mother had been
to the area many times over the years. But this was the first time she actually returned to the fields she walked as a little girl. We walked along a fence line
until we came upon some woods. My mother looked around a little lost. I
fearlessly trudged into the trees and soon found some foundation stones and
some old rusting appliances. This was it! We had found it! Like archaeologists
in a South American jungle, we were rediscovering the past! Little was left
that looked like it did in my mom’s youth. But she could still point to
landmarks and in the general direction where she would walk to catch the school
bus or see friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Several hours later, we returned home and immediately pulled
out the photo albums to pour over the few photos my mom had of her childhood
home. We compared them to the memories of the area we had just explored. It astounded me that my mother had never returned here until
now. It was so close! Perhaps she didn’t want to return. Perhaps she had
painful memories there. Or perhaps she thought there was no worth in returning
to the past.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I, however, gained a greater understanding of my
mother’s journey - where and how she grew up. Like Saroo Brierley’s journey, I
was glad I made the trip.</span>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-24422026383836359472017-01-26T11:11:00.001-06:002017-01-26T16:27:21.944-06:00The Blog Awakens<div class="MsoNormal">
Seven years later…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s been a while since I’ve posted here. But family history
(as a hobby) can be like that. You set it down for a while. Then something
comes along to awaken the desire inside you. Or someone else picks up where you
left off. In this instance it is the former.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In the intermittent time a lot has happened in mine but
mostly my wife’s family. This past year her uncle passed away. He was a busy
guy, always tinkering with this, fixing that, or fiddling with something else.
He had a vast collection of antiques and musical instruments. When the family
gathered after a memorial service, his widow gave almost everything away to
people in the family who she knew would cherish each item. I was given a banjo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6yociaijkeE/WIotmHFEiCI/AAAAAAAAAME/dfIKcWGq42ghhKNCHZQkPLkXiBx7aABJQCLcB/s1600/banjo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6yociaijkeE/WIotmHFEiCI/AAAAAAAAAME/dfIKcWGq42ghhKNCHZQkPLkXiBx7aABJQCLcB/s320/banjo.jpg" width="240" /></a>Now, I’m not a musician but I do have an appreciation for
bluegrass music. This banjo is in pristine, almost new condition. When I got it
home, I caringly went over it to clean off the dust. I tuned it as best I knew
how and then I gave the strings an inaugural pluck. It sang out with a
beautiful twang. It was a wonderful sound, probably the first notes it played
in years. I gathered information on when and where the uncle originally got the
banjo (a gift from his father) and will keep it in an envelope in the case
along with a picture of him playing it.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a lot of learning to do on the banjo. I never even planned
on learning the banjo. But I can’t sell or give this beautiful instrument away.
It was given to me with the understanding that I would appreciate it and keep
it in the family. And I’m not one to just let it sit in the corner gathering
dust. There is a pull that draws me to it. I <i>have</i> to learn it. I <i>must</i>
learn it. I’m never going to be the next Earl Scruggs or Steve Martin. But I
have to try.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
As I prepare to also take up this genealogical journey once
again, I have to wipe away the dust and tune my strings again. Every time I
think I’m out, it pulls me back in. I might be a little rusty, but it’ll come
back to me. One day I might set it down for my last time. But, like my banjo,
I’m sure someone will pick it up again.<o:p></o:p></div>
Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-92069981660804155352010-12-15T13:50:00.002-06:002010-12-15T14:02:04.701-06:00“Who Do You Think You Are?” returns in 2011In a <a href="http://b4mytime.blogspot.com/2010/02/who-do-you-think-you-are.html">previous post</a>, I mentioned a genealogy themed TV show produced by Lisa Kudrow of “Friends” fame. If you caught it, you were treated to some interesting and often tear-jerking stories of celebrities discovering their family history. Matthew Broderick discovered his link to a Civil War hero similar to the one he portrayed in “Glory”. Meanwhile his wife Sarah Jessica Parker traced her lineage back to the Salem Witch Trials.<br /><br /> “Who Do You Think You Are?” will return January 21st, 2011 for another series of trips down genealogy lane. This season’s celebrity seekers includes Tim McGraw, Rosie O’Donnell, Vanessa Williams, Lionel Richie, Ashley Judd, Steve Buscemi and Kim Cattrall. Look for it on NBC. <a href="http://www.nbc.com/who-do-you-think-you-are/">Learn more here.</a>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-46071477727658341152010-11-27T11:06:00.002-06:002010-11-29T10:15:37.920-06:00Major Minorities & Minor MajoritiesA lot is made in our world about race relations. This has been going on for hundreds if not thousands of years. We try so hard to make everything fair and everyone equal. But have you ever noticed that we aren’t so diligent with individuals? Most people make much ado about some minor part of their racial make-up.<br /><br />“I’m one-sixteenth Native American.”<br /><br />“I have a little Polynesian blood in me.”<br /><br />“I’m descended from a Cherokee princess.”<br /><br />When Halle Berry won an Academy Award for Best Actress, it was a big deal because she was the “first black woman to win the Best Actress Oscar®”. President Obama is our “first black President”. In both cases, they have one white parent and one black, yet the minority side of their race is what they (or the press, or we) identify them as.<br /><br />Why is the minority in us given dominance? Is it because we like to cheer for the underdog? Are we looking for sympathy or special treatment? Or do we want to highlight the hardships some of our predecessors had to endure?<br /><br />As far as I know, I am 100% white man. I’m not necessarily proud of that. That’s simply who I am. When thinking about my family history, what I <em>am</em> proud of is the minority of people who truly did something revolutionary: the ancestor who fought in the Revolutionary War, the ancestors who fought in the Civil War, the ancestors who left family and friends to pioneer the western frontier, the ancestor who had a town named after him. Out of the 5,000 or so people currently listed in my family tree, a very small number of them did something brave, extraordinary or just original. These are the people I try to identify with and hope to find similar qualities in myself.Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-87641335312908233102010-11-11T14:47:00.000-06:002010-11-11T14:48:08.757-06:00MusingsIt’s been a while since I posted anything here. And it’s been a while since I’ve touched any of my genealogy. And so goes this perpetual hobby…<br /><br />But this brief intermission hasn’t been without noteworthy events. I learned, or rather was informed, that I am related to someone at my Nashville church. This came as a surprise to me since my family rarely seems to have ventured far from West Tennessee. This made attending the wedding of my newfound cousin that much more meaningful.<br /><br />I’ve found it interesting that most female genealogists tend to focus on their maternal lines. Male genealogists, like me, are usually obsessed with the paternal line or following their last name – a practice that has left me wanting. Is this genealogical sexism or just an innate need to relate to our ancestors if only in a superficial way? A recent episode of “Nova” talked about the history of domesticated dogs and how scientists usually focus on mitochondrial DNA (DNA passed down through the maternal line) because it changes very little over time. Perhaps there’s greater value in following the maternal line.Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-85725722969757243922010-05-20T22:47:00.006-05:002010-05-22T23:00:43.354-05:00PhotoshopThis is a good example of what you can do with Photoshop...<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S_in36IbtMI/AAAAAAAAAKA/tZbBb6UPviI/s1600/Holder+B&A+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474309926008108226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S_in36IbtMI/AAAAAAAAAKA/tZbBb6UPviI/s400/Holder+B%26A+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S_YDSYBN7OI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/HftBCFJp0tk/s1600/Holder+B&A.jpg"></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Before <---------------------------------------------> After</span></div><br /><div align="left">...as well as a good example of the kinds of mistakes we made before Spellcheck.</div></div>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-72283420746468321752010-04-02T00:26:00.005-05:002010-04-06T13:46:04.312-05:00Profile: Lewis E. Pierce<strong>Born:</strong> December 25, 1844 South Carolina<br /><strong>Died:</strong> June 30, 1934, Bolivar, Tennessee<br /><strong>Relationship to me:</strong> 3rd Great-Grandfather<br /><br />Lewis E. Pierce was born on Christmas day in 1844 to Joseph and Nancy Pierce of South Carolina. During the Civil War, Lewis fought in the Confederate army. According to family legend, Lewis served under Nathan Bedford Forrest for a time during which he found himself in Hardeman County, Tennessee. He was sent out to scout the area surrounding the camp and to seek food and supplies from nearby farm families when he met a farm girl named Rebecca Radford. The two fell in love. After the war, Lewis moved to Hardeman County and married Rebecca. They had nine children together.<br /><br />On September 14th & 15th, 1900, a reunion was held in Hardeman County for veterans of the Confederate Army. Lewis was one of the over 3,000 people in attendance.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455408429737523986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S7WBEBctOxI/AAAAAAAAAJg/Wp0wtW-_fBY/s320/Lewis+reunion.jpg" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">My 3x Great-Grandfather, Lewis E. Pierce in 1900 at the last Confederate Reunion in Hardeman County, TN.</span> </span></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">Rebecca died in 1928. Lewis died six years later on her birthday.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455407727431213794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S7WAbJJ1YuI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Yu-523ptVNA/s320/Lewis+Pierce+grave.jpg" border="0" />Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-68164041843561348612010-03-12T14:29:00.001-06:002010-03-12T14:31:03.752-06:00Random, Bouncy, Nonsensical Syllables<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Until I was a teenager, I honestly thought my grandparents' given names were "Maw" and "Paw". When my sister gave birth to my parents' first grandchild, one of the first orders of business was to decide what the newly dubbed grandparents would be called. They decided on "Nana" and "Paw".</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Grandparent names are just as random, bouncy, nonsensical syllables as "momma" and "dadda." But they are much more diverse and meant to be just as cute as the child that will be using them.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">So, let's hear them. What are your silly grandparent names?</p>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5604466883256342036.post-29578313849432274992010-03-04T23:16:00.004-06:002010-03-05T12:41:05.671-06:00Say Uncle<div align="left">Everyone has more than one familial title. I am a son, a husband, a brother, a cousin and a nephew. But I think the title I take the most pride and joy in is uncle. I remember as a kid I mispronounced “uncle” calling my mom’s brother “knuckle Joe”.<br /><br />I was so excited when I became an uncle for the first time. A whole new dynamic was added to my family. All of a sudden my sister was a mom, my parents were grandparents and my brothers also became uncles. As my nieces and nephews grew in numbers and years, we had to start utilizing our new titles.<br /><br />“Can you say hi to Uncle Phil?”<br /><br />“Thank Uncle Phil for the birthday present.”<br /><br />Being an uncle is a lot like being a grandparent. You get to play with the kids, brag about them to friends, write shameless blog posts about them and really enjoy them without the hang-ups of having to change diapers or discipline. I always looked forward to becoming an uncle and I hoped that I would be the “cool uncle.” I try to remember birthdays, sending a card with stickers every year.</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444648911021269730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 245px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49HVmwj4uI/AAAAAAAAAJI/JDHisA74cRM/s320/Uncle+Phil001.jpg" border="0" />Uncle Phil with Emma, Noah & Hope</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />And we uncles do it all for no special recognition although there is a little known “Aunt & Uncle Day” every July 26th. The title of uncle isn’t specific to blood relatives either. Pretty much any close male friend of the family can be called uncle.<br /><br />I realize I am following in the footsteps of a lot of famous uncles before me. Here’s my ten favorite uncles of all time: </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49GUg_JeTI/AAAAAAAAAJA/-Zwi0lY4vyA/s1600-h/Uncle+Rico.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444647792780343602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49GUg_JeTI/AAAAAAAAAJA/-Zwi0lY4vyA/s200/Uncle+Rico.JPG" border="0" /></a>Uncle Rico (<em>Napoleon Dynamite</em>) – If the coach had put him in the game in ’82, they would-a went to state, no doubt in my mind. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49F1axluwI/AAAAAAAAAI4/2aIfhNrCPLY/s1600-h/Uncle+Fester.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444647258536917762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49F1axluwI/AAAAAAAAAI4/2aIfhNrCPLY/s200/Uncle+Fester.JPG" border="0" /></a>Uncle Fester (“The Addams Family”) – The best uncle trick: making a light bulb light up in your mouth. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="left"></p><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="left"></p><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49FkfDVc5I/AAAAAAAAAIw/eepq1DlQD2s/s1600-h/Uncle+Buck.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444646967627314066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49FkfDVc5I/AAAAAAAAAIw/eepq1DlQD2s/s200/Uncle+Buck.JPG" border="0" /></a>Uncle Buck – For showing us how to make enormous pancakes with a snow shovel.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="left"></p><div align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49FWtpIwMI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-ZIRIoz7oE0/s1600-h/Uncle+Phil.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444646731025793218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49FWtpIwMI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-ZIRIoz7oE0/s200/Uncle+Phil.JPG" border="0" /></a>Uncle Phil (“The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air”) – Nice name.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49FK1ZAAqI/AAAAAAAAAIg/jmIASpPIwAc/s1600-h/Uncle+Ben.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444646526947164834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49FK1ZAAqI/AAAAAAAAAIg/jmIASpPIwAc/s200/Uncle+Ben.JPG" border="0" /></a>Uncle Ben – Like white on rice. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49E8YVdJrI/AAAAAAAAAIY/zeFSifFcLXg/s1600-h/Man+from+u.n.c.l.e..JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444646278629500594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49E8YVdJrI/AAAAAAAAAIY/zeFSifFcLXg/s200/Man+from+u.n.c.l.e..JPG" border="0" /></a>The Man for U.N.C.L.E. – Actually this is two men who may or may not be uncles.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49Ef9GyN5I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/cxaZ326hY8A/s1600-h/Uncle+remus.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444645790283872146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49Ef9GyN5I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/cxaZ326hY8A/s200/Uncle+remus.JPG" border="0" /></a>Uncle Remus (<em>Song of the South</em>) – Zip-a-de-doo-da!</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49EKSP405I/AAAAAAAAAII/QWfSp3udI1o/s1600-h/Uncle+Dave+Macon.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444645418002076562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 178px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49EKSP405I/AAAAAAAAAII/QWfSp3udI1o/s200/Uncle+Dave+Macon.JPG" border="0" /></a>Uncle Dave Macon – The Dixie Dewdrop of uncles. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444644919746045106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 145px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49DtSGZJLI/AAAAAAAAAIA/rCnNPgVHvQM/s200/Uncle+Sam.JPG" border="0" />Uncle Sam – He wants you, and it's nice to be wanted.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49DJeHQLcI/AAAAAAAAAH4/lLcIQwmnubM/s1600-h/Uncle+Owen.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444644304495586754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__fZU_WmcWG8/S49DJeHQLcI/AAAAAAAAAH4/lLcIQwmnubM/s200/Uncle+Owen.JPG" border="0" /></a>Uncle Owen (<em>Star Wars: Episode IV A New Hope</em>) – Just a simple moisture farmer who raised the last of the Jedi and the galaxy’s only hope for peace.<br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">Who are your favorite uncles?</div>Phil Bakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05238854522304625616noreply@blogger.com3