Remembering Buzzard's Roost This Memorial Day

"Mill Creek Gap plaque" by John Foxe - Own work. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mill_Creek_Gap_plaque.JPG#/media/File:Mill_Creek_Gap_plaque.JPG


There is no mention of Buzzard's Roost on the plaque commemorating a four-day portion of Sherman's infamous March to the Sea. Twenty years ago, there wasn't much information to be found at all about a place named Buzzard's Roost anywhere. The Battle of Mill Creek Gap is just about as close as you can get, and that's after digging through the saga of Resaca.

But this place with its ominous name is where Robert Carter died.

Robert Carter, the oldest son of John and Martha Carter, was born in 1846 in England and arrived here in Morgan County, Illinois, in about 1848 as a toddler.

As the eldest son of a moderately successful farmer, no one knows why Robert enlisted in Company B of the 10th Illinois Volunteer Infantry when the Civil War began. Whether it was to escape the bonds of Midwestern farm life or the feeling of patriotism felt by a young 20-year-old man, we will never know. In any event, Robert entered the service of the Union and the bloodiest war in our history.

It was here in Georgia during the Resaca campaign, the Battle of Mill Creek Gap, and consequently, the Battle of Buzzard's Roost that Robert fought under Union General William T. Sherman - and died.

Robert now rests with his parents beneath a multi-faceted grave marker in East Cemetery in Jacksonville, Morgan County, Illinois. Cemetery records indicate his burial there, and one can only imagine the wait and the dread and the longing for his body to be returned from Georgia to Illinois in 1864.

Other than a brief notation from the battlefield surgeon, there is little documentation and little known about Robert, either before his enlistment or after. There are no surviving known photographs, no medals, no military trappings left behind to tell his story. Robert never had the chance to marry or father children to carry on his legacy. In all of this, Robert was alone.

Yet he was but one of 10,000 combat deaths from Illinois, and one of almost 600,000 total who gave their last full measure on the battlefields of the Civil War.

Robert could easily be lost in this sea of bloody statistics, but not this Memorial Day.

Rest in peace, Robert.

Robert Carter was my second great grand-uncle.

The Civil War Meets Rock and Roll

Often when engaged in genealogical pursuits, we find little tidbits of information about an ancestor intriguing or humorous, shocking or sad.  We may not see them immediately, but discover them after files and documents are received and filed away. Only when we take the time to fully understand the documents before us, when we read them analytically and record their contents do we realize what we have. 

I’m not going to admit how long I’ve had this lengthy Civil War pension file on my ancestor, John D. Alexander, or whether I have completely analyzed all of its 165 pages. So don’t ask me. I’m not saying.

John’s file is interesting because it was filed not by John after returning from service in the war, but by his only child, Charles.  Add to that the fact that Charles was an adult at the time of filing for his father’s pension, and you get a sense of why the file is both interesting and lengthy.

But I digress. 

John, as a resident of Kansas, joined Company D of the 8^th Kansas Volunteer Infantry on 24 September 1861. His wife, Harriet, had died in March 1861, leaving him to care for their only child, Charles (born 21 October 1859). Charles went to live with John’s parents, William and Mary Moore McReynolds Alexander near Golden, Adams County, Illinois, and his father went off to war.

John’s brother, David, died of injuries received in the Battle of Stones River, Tennessee on 30 Jan 1863, having been a Corporal in the 84^th Illinois from Adams County, Illinois.

John and Company D of the 8^th Kansas had been in Nashville, fortifying the headquarters for General Rosencrans. The next movement for John and the Army of the Cumberland would be the Tullahoma Campaign.  John and a friend of his, Asa F. Phillips of Marysville, Kansas, got a three-day pass in the latter part of June 1863, a brief chance to get away from their daily duties before embarking upon Tullahoma. 

It turns out that John’s brother, William Alexander, had also volunteered for the Union Army. With the 84^th Illinois.

In a brief letter contained in the pension file for John Alexander, Asa Phillips recalls the furlough.

They went to visit their brothers. And their brothers were on Cripple Creek in Tennessee. 

Cripple Creek. Hey, isn't that a song?

"Up on Cripple Creek" - The Band

Admittedly, although quite familiar with the song, I had never really known exactly where “Cripple Creek” was.  Upon doing a bit of research for this post, I discovered that the verdict is still out on which “Cripple Creek” the rock group, The Band, was singing about. Some say it’s Louisiana, and others claim Colorado.

According to the map of the Murfreesboro area, there is a Cripple Creek there, too.

I’ve listened to the song again a number of times recently, and have thought a lot about what John and Asa, and presumably Asa’s brother and William Alexander did during those couple of days. I wonder what they talked about, whether they went somewhere, what they ate. I wonder if John and William talked about their brother, David, and the fatal wounds he received at Stones River. I wonder if they shared any letters from home or whether John knew anything of how his only son, Charles, was getting along.

I wonder if William had any idea that he would be shot in the head at Kennesaw Mountain, and live to receive a pension.

And I wonder if John knew that by the end of the war, he would be nearly too ill to care for himself due to lung disease, and that he would die on 25 March 1868 at his father’s home in Adams County, Illinois, exactly 7 years to the day that his young wife, Harriet, had died. 

On a side note, the pension application made by Charles Alexander was denied, as there was insufficient evidence to prove that John’s lung disease was as a result of his participation for the duration in the Union cause. 

Blog Caroling with Footnote Maven

Our dear fellow Geneablogger and all-around lovely lady, Footnote Maven (www.footnotemaven.com), reminded us today that it's time for her annual tradition of Blog Caroling. Blog caroling, as FM explains it, consists of choosing your favorite Christmas carol, and blogging about it, including lyrics and video.

Christmas is about tradition, so I thought I'd give this a try and join in the singing.

It just so happens that one of my very favorite Christmas carols - okay, it's more of a song than a carol, but I think FM will allow it - also carries quite a bit of tradition along with it, perhaps in a way you might not think.

For 27 years, Darlene Love has been a special guest on the Late Show with David Letterman for his last show before Christmas. Ms. Love comes with one purpose, and that is to sing "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" to the delight of fans around the world. Darlene Love is a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, a Tony award nominee, and has an exhaustive list of musical performances as a backup singer and collaborator and lead performer in her own right.

So last night, at the age of 72 years, Ms. Love took the stage over at David Letterman's show for her 27th year.

She brought the house down.

Here is last night's performance, sung as no one else on this planet could sing it.

And the lyrics are posted below, so you can listen again and sing along.

The snow's coming down 

I'm watching it fall
Lots of people around
Baby please come home

The church bells in town
All singing in song
Full of happy sounds
Baby please come home

They're singing "Deck The Halls"
But it's not like Christmas at all
'Cause I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year

Pretty lights on the tree
I'm watching them shine
You should be here with me
Baby please come home

They're singing "Deck The Halls"
But it's not like Christmas at all
'Cause I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year

If there was a way
I'd hold back this tear
But it's Christmas day
Please
Please
Please
Please
Baby please come home

David Letterman (through his representative) was quoted by the Huffington Post saying, "It isn't Christmas without Darlene Love."(1)

I tend to agree.

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! 

(1) "Darlene Love's David Letterman Appearance Kicks Off Christmas", http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/12/21/darlene-love-christmas-baby-letterman_n_4485773.html.  Includes additional links to Ms. Love's past performances as well.

Veterans Day Honor Roll

Veterans Day.

It’s the day we remember those who served, those who never came home, and those whose sacrifice saved lives, preserved a union, and freed nations.

I try to put together my own list every year of those known ancestors of mine who served, and I find that I discover more every year. It makes me proud, of course, but it also reminds me that as I research these ancestors throughout the year, so it was that they lived with their service every single day of their lives. Their memories were not put on hold and brought out just on one day a year, but every day. Perhaps because of physical injury, perhaps because of the sheer horror that remained in their psyche, they lived with those experiences. It makes me wonder who are we to relegate their bravery, their steadfastness, their patriotism, to just one day.

Every day should be Veterans Day, because as I see it, we owe them nothing less.

And now, my personal Roll of Honor as I know it to be (there are more, I am certain).

Thank you, all, for the sacrifices you and your families made.

*Thomas Wells, Massachusetts, Member of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery of Massachusetts

*Jonathan Massey, Revolutionary War minuteman, Salem, New Hampshire

*Capt. Philemon Waters, Revolutionary War, Virginia

*Edward Askins, Revolutionary War, Virginia

*James Officer, Revolutionary War, Virginia

*Major George Bruton, Revolutionary War, Virginia/South Carolina

*Walter Wake, Civil War, Union, Company C, 20^th Illinois, wounded at the Battle of Shiloh

Robert Carter, Civil War, Union, killed in Georgia during Sherman’s March

*Andrew Lawson, Civil War, Union

*John Robert Mawson, Civil War, Union

*James Zook, Civil War, Union

*John D. Alexander, Civil War, Union, 8^th KS and 8^th Wisc. Battery

Ralph John Carter, WWII, killed in action, buried in The Netherlands National Cemetery

Robert Reeve, WWII, Iwo Jima

Major Frank Reeve, WWII, Iwo Jima

*denotes a direct ancestor

The Book of Me - Week #2

I am participating in Julie Goucher's activity:

"The Book of Me, Written by You."

Week #2 - Your Birth

Do you have any baby photos?

Where were you born?

Who was present at your birth?

Dimensions?

What day was it? Time?

Did you have hair? Eye colour

Are you a twin?

All of my birth information is packed away either in my closet or at my mother's, so I can't be very exact right now. Here's what I can recall. 

I was born in Jacksonville, Illinois, at Our Savior's Hospital at around 7:30 in the evening, apparently during a thunderstorm (that part always makes me giggle a bit). I weighed 8 pounds and some-odd ounces and had a head full of hair and big brown eyes. I was quite roly-poly as I remember from looking at my baby photos. 

The thing that stands out about my birth was not so much the event itself, but what happened once I got here, according to what my paternal grandmother always told me. 

My father was still in college when I was born, and as an English major, he was taking his share of writing courses. I don't know the name of the class or the specific assignment, but the timing was such that he wrote an essay - about me. Me, the first time he held me, the amazement he felt at my arrival and my being, the feelings he had about how scared he was that I might break if he didn't hold me just the right way. All of his emotions apparently came flooding out in this paper he wrote for a class. 

Oh. He got an A+. 

The Book of Me - Prompt #1: Who Am I?

Often when we research our ancestors, we forget to preserve our own memories. Some Geneabloggers are trying a new writing prompt series from Julie Boucher at her Anglers Rest blog entitled "The Book of Me, Written by You", about how you view "you", or in this case, how I view me. 

• I am Kellie, not spelled with a "y".
• I am a mother, a daughter, a sister, a cousin.
• I am a wife, and I'm happy about that. 
• I love my cat, Chloe.
• I have the most awesome daughter on the face of the planet. 
• I'm not biased. 
• I love history, and particularly appreciate living in the midst of it.
• I love genealogy to the point of obsession. 
• I consider myself to be a professional, but I will never stop learning.
• I enjoy helping others. 
• I am strong-willed and determined (never stubborn *wink*)
• I am a good friend to have around. 
• I can be a perfectionist about some things, and a total mess about others. 
• I take naps, and I have no guilt about that.
• I love football and hockey. 
• I go crazy over flowers, vintage jewelry, and old "girlie" things. I don't know why.
• I refuse to let a day pass without at least one giggle, and preferably, a belly-laugh or two. 
• I love music. It soothes my soul.
• I live with MS. I don't let it define me, but it does change my routine at times (see naps, above). 
• I am a softie and will cry at any movie or show that is the least bit heartwarming. 
• I am thankful for every single day.
• Really, about that bias thing...(see daughter, above)
• This "exercise" was a bit more difficult for me to write than I anticipated. 

You don't have to be a blogger to do this little activity, and I must admit, it was interesting. Give it a try!! 

 

Andy, York, and Tellie

I was excited tonight to confirm another ancestor who fought during the period of the Revolutionary War. I'm proud of my patriotic ancestors, and am continually amazed at men who "guarded the frontier" during such an uneasy time in our newly-formed collection of states. I say that because I firmly believe that we were not aware as colonial America that we "were": a country until after the Civil War, when the concept of the preservation of the Union was solidified. But that's another blog...

I was gathering some data online about this ancestor who hailed from Spartanburg, South Carolina, and I noticed he was a slave-owner. He is not the first of my ancestors to have owned slaves, so I continued on and didn't really think much about it.

I had found a couple of possible collateral relatives to this veteran, and if you have ever used collateral research in your genealogy, you know how important those other relatives can become. If you haven't used collateral research in your family tree, it's 20 lashes with a wet noodle to you, and we need to talk.

So I searched a cemetery just to see the burials with my veteran's surname contained therein. I found a couple of possible connections that I need to look at further, but that's not what really caught my eye.

I came upon York and Tellie (my ancestor's surname).

York and Tellie were an African-American couple. York was born in Spartanburg in 1842. No one apparently knew when Tellie was born, nor when she died. York's father has no burial in the cemetery, but his name was Andy, according to additional information listed.

They have my ancestor's surname. Andy too.

I realized that I had possibly come across the slaves of my ancestors, or at minimum, their direct descendants. That's never happened to me before.

In previous research, slaves owned by one of my family lines were mentioned usually in wills, first name only, and just listed like all of the rest of the property being distributed in those types of documents. I've yet to look for any more information on them, and I chalked it up to colonial Southern life. There was a certain neutrality in those first-name-only people I had seen listed.

Seeing York and Tellie and Andy tonight was different. They have our name, and carried our name through the present day long enough for their grandson (in the case of Andy, his great-grandson) to purchase proper cemetery markers for them in the same cemetery where they rest with other members of my family.

I'm still processing this as I write. But to Andy and York and Tellie...I'm glad to have met you.

Insomnia and the Genealogist, or What Kept Me Up Last Night

I can be an insomniac at times and I'm used to it. That's generally when I read, or play a mindless game on my phone until I can finally slip into the comfort of sleep.

I slept 2 whole hours last night. Twice I thought about getting out of bed and jumping on the computer, but since our cat, Chloe, was contentedly ensconced next to me, I thought better of that and just tried to drift off.

Instead, I managed only to think more, and more, about what my newest research had uncovered and how it was that I could unravel the myriad of mysteries within.

Here's some of what I thought about:

• A 29-year-old man leaving his wife and 3 young children to go off to fight in the Civil War. 
• Dying of smallpox in Cahaba Prison, Alabama after being captured during a fierce battle at Pleasant Hill, Louisiana. 
• Existing at all after being captured and living at Cahaba. Just being there. 
• Having 2 children born during the war, a son in 1862 and a daughter in 1865. Never seeing the daughter at all, and perhaps not even knowing she existed. 
• Wondering how this couple managed to have 2 children during the war to begin with, given that the father was with the Army of the Mississippi and a little far from home. . 
• The conduct it takes to rank up from private to 2nd lieutenant during a war. Perhaps there was more to this man than literacy. 
• Why a family moved from Missouri to Illinois at the start of the war. 
• Why the wife ended up marrying 4 more times after the loss of her husband, and what happened to her children. How did the loss of their father affect them, or were they too young to understand. 

The answers to these questions will undoubtedly lead to more questions, too.

I don't know about you, but this is enough to keep me awake for days. My mind has adopted this family and this Union solder buried now in Marietta, Georgia, and I cannot rest until I figuratively breathe the life back into them.

Have you ever had the same feeling about an ancestor you've discovered? Have you been bitten by the insomnia bug and become so doggedly determined about an ancestor that you cannot sleep? How did your sleep-deprived experience turn out?

Some people would call it being a bit obsessive. Others would just call it genealogy.

Some of those questions may never be answered, but I owe this man something for what he did in sacrificing his little family and his life to join the Union cause, and bringing his story to light is my goal.

It's the most, and the least I can do.

After I grab a quick nap.

On Sharing, Hoarding,and Ethical Genealogy

Much has been written lately about sharing, plagiarism and ethics in the genealogical community wherein we all reside and interact. It's a great community, and a generous, healthy spot in our world where we feel safe to address the trials and tribulations of our genealogical obsession. However, the fact that we are having the discussion, and that the issue has affected major icons as well as the everyday genealogist, has caused some to consider locking their doors at night and cast wary glances at their neighbors as they walk along the sidewalk.

I'm no expert on plagiarism (I will leave it to others more expert than I to continue to address this specific topic), nor do I pretend that my ethics are perfect, but my own experience tells me that our community has become increasingly lax on these issues. I find it ironic that as we strive to provide more guidance, more instruction, and more access not only to genealogical information but to genealogical standards, we find more and more reluctance on the part of some to be cognizant of any ethical mindset. 

We all know, or should know, a few things about sharing and ethics and genealogy in general.

Our genealogy is never "done".
Therefore, it only makes sense to cite our sources of information so that those who come after us know where we've been and why. They may want to take a trip there in person to see for themselves.

We don't "own" facts.
My 5th-great-grandfather, Huram Reeve, was born on May 10, 1806, in Wilkes Co., North Carolina. The only reason I give you that fact is that Huram said so - not to me personally, but to various others who interviewed him. Huram was quite a fellow, as it turns out, and loved to talk about the old days in frontier Illinois. I don't "own" his birth date, however. It is a fact, and anyone interested in Huram is free to use that date as his birth date from any publication of mine.

I use Huram as an example because things began to get more interesting over the years with his information and his likeness.

Photographs can become a sticky wicket and libraries lose books.
There is one known photograph of Huram. As far as I can tell, I'm the only person in the last 80-some years to have found it. I found it by accident in a very old book in a little-accessed corner at the Jacksonville (IL) Public Library about 20 years ago. That book contained photographs of some of the earliest settlers in Morgan County, and on a whim, I looked to see if it might contain one of my ancestors. There, I found a photo of Huram AND his father, Isaac. The special collections librarian assisted me in making a photocopy of these 2 images, as I did not want to harm this old scrapbook by trying to do this myself. I was beyond delighted to have these photocopies and showed them to practically anyone who would stop long enough to look at them. I was so proud of them that I contributed an upload of the 2 photos to an area RootsWeb site. I graciously received photo credit for the uploads on the website, without requesting it, and thought nothing more about it until I went back to the library in Jacksonville to look for more pioneer ancestor photographs (and to obtain a proper source citation for the book), only to discover that the book has disappeared and no one at the library knows what happened to it. 

Credit where credit is due. Always. That goes for what I've done and where I've done it. 
Huram's grandson, John, became a prominent member of Jacksonville also. My cousin and his mother (my great-aunt) had some photos of John and his family, and 2 family photos were taken and copies were made for anyone in the family who wished to have them. This was around the time of the Bicentennial when everyone was doing family history research. I don't know how much it cost to obtain copies of these photos, but I would venture to say it was quite a bit more than it would be today. Being proud of my ancestry, I uploaded these 2 photos to the same website where I had uploaded Huram and his father's photos. Again, I received photo credit without even asking. I then merrily skipped along the sidewalk of the genealogical community, happy that I could have such wonderful photos to share. I also knew the provenance of the original photographs, who made the copies, and how I came into possession of them, all things necessary when using photographs to support your genealogical house.  

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago.

I will never post my family tree on Ancestry.com. I will only post to a controlled and linked website. 
I'm on Ancestry.com checking some census data for a client. I use Ancestry often, and it's well worth the price of admission. Remembering my ties to the state my client's family is from, I paused my attention span and looked for my family in that area. And to what did my wandering eyes should appear (sincerest apologies to Clement Moore) but my 4 photographs on about a dozen family trees. Family trees done by persons I do not know. Family trees with incorrect information (about Huram and Isaac and others). Family trees with no sources. No sources, no photo credit, nothing.

Not only were these photos, 2 of which I pretty much "found" and 2 of which were literally and physically "mine", posted without my name being attached to them at some point, but credit was not even given to the RootsWeb site where the photos were obtained. They have never been published to Ancestry.com by me.

I'm not a hoarder.
To say that I was livid is probably an understatement. My husband has requested permission to share his views on my level of lividity here, but he will have to start his own blog.

I have shared tons of information over the last 25 years with other researchers from different lines of my family. Most of it was good, solid information, and I admit, a smidgen of conjecture that I have since corrected as my skills have improved. A lot of it arrived via the postal service and may still not be found online. A lot of it came straight from courthouses and libraries because no one had a computer back then. I have met new cousins, online and in person as a result. I consider my own life to have been enriched by knowing where I came from. I cherish the good and the bad (shout out to my Black Sheep). I have volunteered photos, transcribed and read cemeteries, and have gotten lost several times within 25 miles of my own home in the process. I love my ancestral heritage.

This last revelation about my photographs, plus the latest ethical upheaval in the genealogical community, has really given me pause. Frankly, it's almost enough to make a person consider hoarding their information, if only momentarily. Of course, I won't, and I'm actively cleaning up my genealogy as I write this (boy, do I have a blog post about that subject). As I clean it up for proper publication, it will be "out there" for future researchers, and my daughter, hopefully forever. Remodeling my genealogical house is taking a lot of effort and time, but hey, I don't want to be the ugly house on my genealogical street. It will also be correct to the best of my ability, sourced properly, and with added historical context to fully develop who my ancestors were. Chances are, every photograph will be watermarked, too.

Be polite and ask first. When in doubt, give a shout-out. 
I have found that it does not take a lot of my time to ask another researcher if I might use a document or a photograph. Really cool things happen when you do that. You meet a distant cousin, most likely, or someone who shares the same interests. More likely than not, more sharing ensues, too. You've met another neighbor here in the community that lives a little further down the street.

What about those people who don't respond to your inquiry? What about those distant cousins who provided you their family group sheets back in 1981 and have passed away? What do you do about that information, you ask? You acknowledge it. Giving cousin Betty credit, either as a source or even just as a mention in your side notes is the proper thing to do. Most of us didn't get this far without help from others, and they should be given their due - each and every one of them, automatically without their having to ask for it, and whether they are living or dead. 

Common courtesy and common sense
For most of us, all of this boils down to common courtesy and common sense. Sometimes I feel like the crabby old lady, shaking her cane at the kids and telling them to stay off my lawn, but that's not really who I am. I welcome anyone to visit my genealogical house. All I ask is that you come equipped with some common courtesy and common sense. We'll have a great time relaxing on the front porch, telling old ancestor stories, sharing conclusions, and sipping some sweet tea.

Fabulous Friday - A Fabulous Find - Finally!

It seems like eons ago, but before my health and life intervened and stomped upon my genealogical pursuits, I had told you about my mysterious great-grandfather and BlackSheep ancestor, Arthur B. Alexander, who disappeared back in 1927, leaving his wife and two daughters in Hobart, Oklahoma. I had always taken Arthur’s disappearance in stride since his mother, Lucy Zook Alexander, had also eluded my grasp for many years. I was beginning to attribute the entire lineage to genetics in a wanderlust sort of way.

Not anymore. I found Lucy!

I celebrate this Fabulous Friday post with sheer joy and yes, a bit of rapture, at this new development. I’ve found people with accompanying documentation back in the 1630s before. How I could not have found my own great-great grandmother was just plain silly. Sheepishly, I admit that I had given up finding her. However, I had forgotten two very important tenets of genealogy

1.  There IS a reason it’s called REsearch. Another blogger said this in a post I read recently, and it’s a huge, huge reminder of why we do what we do. It’s particularly applicable to those of us from the snail mail days, the dial-up modem racing to Compuserve era, and the countless backroom favors granted by the friendly county clerk brigades. This grand experience of tracing our family history has come so far, and changes faster than my teenager’s moods. So much information is “out there” now, and we must not forget to check again – and again – and again – to re-research those ancestors and brick walls we have put aside for another day. I had done this with my Lucy, wondering if I would ever find out what happened to her.

     2.   Let your ancestors speak to you. I don’t necessarily mean in a creepy, horror movie kind of way, although I have heard some interesting “coincidences” over the years. Recording old family stories may not just be for the preservation of the interviewed and cherised relative, but it may lead you directly to the information you seek. We’ve all heard about the “three immigrant brothers”, the “Cherokee Indian blood” we might have, and countless other genealogical myths. I’ve been fortunate to have communicated with relatives well into their 80s and 90s who have not only shared information and answered many of my questions, but have done so with uncanny accuracy. Not all of our elders are capable of this, but apparently mine were. Still, I have always taken their “reminiscences” with a heavy grain of salt, at least until I have the certified document to prove it.

Lucy’s grand-niece, or Aunt Eva, as I have always called her, told me time and time again in our many letters back and forth that Lucy was buried in LaHarpe in Hancock County, Illinois. Lucy’s other niece told my cousin during a personal visit that Lucy was buried near Augusta, Illinois, also in Hancock County. I could find no information online to verify either one of these ladies’ stories, and had yet to travel to Hancock County personally to try to obtain any record of Lucy’s death. It was partly due to not knowing when Lucy had died, or if she had died at all or had been involved in a divorce. I had only been able to pinpoint a time period of between 1900 (after the census was taken) and 1907 when Lucy’s husband, Charles, was married again and living in Oklahoma. Lucy had disappeared sometime during that seven-year period. Seven years can be a very long time in genealogical terms, and I couldn’t make a case one way or another. Yet it stuck in my head that both of these ladies repeated the information they remembered. 

On a break the other night from doing a little client work, and I thought of Lucy again.

Imagine my shock when I saw this entry (without the photo - wink) the other day at www.FindAGrave.com: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GSln=Alexander&GSfn=Lucy&GSbyrel=all&GSdy=1901&GSdyrel=in&GSst=16&GScntry=4&GSob=n&GRid=51282211&df=all&

You also might have heard my squeals of delight when I came upon this item shortly thereafter: http://hancock.illinoisgenweb.org/cemeteries/pulaski/pulaskicemetery.pdf

Several page rotations, neck stretches, and 104 pages later, I found Lucy Alexander – listed along with her mother, Louisiana Mick Zook, in a cemetery plot owned by Charles Alexander. My cousin, Mary Elizabeth, was sweet enough to travel to Pulaski Cemetery and take these photos the next day, and sent them on so they could be posted online. 

There was my long-lost Lucy, right where those ladies said she would be. 

So, remember to RE-search, and then research some more. And listen to your ancestors. They just might be trying to tell you something...fabulous.

Where Were You on September 11th?

Finally, a return to the blogging sphere for me today after a long and trying absence due to some medical issues. Thank you for your patience along the way. The People are still in the Pencil Box - no worries there - and I have much to write about their lives, and how I came about meeting them. 

For today, however, so many of us turn to where we were 11 years ago today - September 11, 2001. Being a Midwesterner, I have no story of personal loss, no horror like that of any witness, but I remember the day quite well for different personal reasons. Several years ago, I gathered those thoughts and those feelings and committed them to free verse. And so, I give you, "Your First Day of School", written for my daughter.

Your First Day of School

Today is

Your first day of school

Excited that we have

To let you go,

Our glee is holding pinky fingers

Tightly with our apprehension.

You’re ready and your dad is making us late,

As I smoke my third cigarette

In front of the television news channel I have come to adore

Almost as much as I do you,

Addicted because Floridians had trouble with ballots.

What a terrible accident -

A small plane and a glistening building,

But the rescuers will come and

I’m hoping not many will die today on

Your first day of school.

I need makeup, caffeine and cigarettes

To get through this day, I proclaim,

And it happens again

And they rerun the tape.

I don’t believe it again.

I run to the shower

To share the rumors with your dad and

I know you’re impatiently ready to go because today is

Your first day of school.

We’re standing together, once anticipating this day.

Now wondering and watching, I grab another cigarette.

We try to grasp for the gist just out of reach,

Today on

Your first day of school.

My compulsive news habit rides with us in the car.

Fumbling with my cigarette and tuning in for more,

It is not necessary to search for news today,

Stations throwing and blasting it out,

Bleating slaughtered lambs and shouting injustice.

I smoke another cigarette

To help me listen faster as I drive,

And I keep driving on, because it’s

Your first day of school.

There it is.

You’re so nervous and jumpy inside

So was I, but numbness erased my memory of you

For a time that day as yet

Another unconfirmed report was a sure thing.

But we walked pinky-finger together

In the door on

Your first day of school.

A warm and welcoming place,

Your teacher trying to forget outside the walls but

Unsure how strong school walls would be that day,

Asking gingerly in code

About the world as we knew it an hour before.

Moving from what we knew to what we know now

In one swift, knowing instant

One long silent gaze.

We walk away and leave you

There

Against

Our feelings of fear and confusion

Thoughts of betrayal and recrimination,

Justifying your need to remain present and safe,

Normal, we said, on

Your first day of school.

In the parking lot, the planes were stopped,

Buildings burned, estimates not yet considered.

Somewhere something else was coming, crashing,

But this could not be confirmed.

Our government was running and leaving, all at the same time. 

I lit that cigarette I needed and

Ripped the torn pinky fingernail on my left hand,

Not ladylike at all,

But with my teeth

As my idling car awaited

My decision to go, to leave you –

Should I leave you there - on

Your first day of school.

Repeated confirmations punctuate

My drive back home.

The television news channel, my friend,

Incessantly chants the news,

Shatters the dream and changes forever

Our relationship.

Crushing my cigarette butt in disgust

I vow never to forgive it for showing me

The crush and crumble of buildings,

Free-form falling strangers,

Empty stretchers and idle physicians

Awaiting business that would never come.

The day goes on,

Husky-eye-blue sky and autumn beginning.

Not a regular day,

Not in the lives of those who demand fuel,

And find none at line’s end.

They still had not a clue

Not a wisp or taste or flicker

Of the impact

Of that day,

The deep blue sky imprint of that forever day

Which was

Your first day of school.

Written for Madeline, who attended her first day of school on September 11, 2001.

© Krobinson, 10/02/2004

Unpacking, or Who Moved All of My Cheese?

It's been a busy month since I've been away. The holidays and winter break were made interesting as I oversaw the care of my beloved during his hospital stay that began on Christmas night due to an angry gallbladder that was no longer happy residing in his body. Sometimes the best gifts we receive for Christmas are actually the removal of something unwanted, I guess! And what family doesn't like to share during the holidays? I know mine does, though I can think of better things than pneumonia to lovingly pass among my favorite people. 

The new year began, and I panicked briefly when it occurred to me just how many wedding planning items were still "unchecked" on my planning list, but I am happy to report that yes, the dress is on the way, and the invitations will be going out next weekend. Whew. April will be here before I know it! 

So much for the plans I had for those boxes, including my precious pencil box. I had promised a photo of the box, and some other goodies, but sadly they remain packed away. There are some 40 boxes of genealogy "stuff" that I hope to pare down to a reasonable 30 or so. It's a lofty goal in my mind, and it is quite overwhelming, but I've made up my mind that this will be the year. I'm going to start with one box a month, but I have a feeling that one box every 3 months may end up being the real schedule. And yes, there is that much in these boxes!

I've managed to pull a couple of family files and find yet more entertaining aspects of my ancestors' lives. Knowing the who, what, and when is great, but to know that my fourth and fifth-great-grandfathers were winners at the Illinois State Fair is just kinda neat. I've yet to find out whether they won for animals or crops or some other skill, but I'm excited to be able to flesh out their lives so fully. Another ancestor who was the mayor of a nearby town was quite active in the Knights of Pythias, and I have found tons of newspaper articles about his participation in that society. I feel so very fortunate to have had some fairly interesting ancestors, and I cannot wait to share some of their newly-discovered exploits with you here. 

One great thing about genealogy is that there is always something new. Another great thing? Nobody is going anywhere <grins>. 

Stay tuned...and keep the faith!! 

Friday Farewell - A Time-Out in Memory of Christopher Hitchens

The sad news hit the wires, the mainstream, the social sites, and blogs late last night as Vanity Fair announced the death of Christopher Hitchens at the age of 62. Though it was not always easy to agree with "Hitch", his gift for writing essays, books, and whatever else came from his mind was staggering in its depth of knowledge and was of an eloquent style rarely seen today. Always in the moment and never at a loss for the perfect word, Christopher Hitchens surely will be remembered as one of the top essayists of my lifetime.

Tributes abound today, and his Vanity Fair editor, Graydon Carter, provides a touching remembrance of his friend and colleague:  http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/christopher-hitchens/graydon-201112#pluck-comments

I'm not sure what Mr. Hitchens would have said about genealogy, and I'm not sure that he had ever had reason to comment on it, so it may seem odd that his death is the subject here. But I enjoyed every word he wrote, knowing full well that he used every word purposefully and passionately, each bit of verbiage thoughtfully included as if to choosing or omitting a word or phrase might destroy an entire work. If only all writers could capture the reader like Hitch did. If only.

Thank you, Hitch, for sharing your gift. I'll be sipping a scotch later just for you.

Removal of Social Security Numbers from SSDI

It seems that political pressure has led to the removal of social security numbers from one of the most accessed databases in genealogy - the SSDI or Social Security Death Index, and the removal of the entire database from RootsWeb.

You can read Kimberly Powell's About.com article for more details. What do you think about this move, and how much will it impact your research?

http://genealogy.about.com/b/2011/12/16/genealogy-sites-pressured-into-removing-ssdi.htm

The Tiny Cemetery – Dangerous Deeds

As promised, I return now to finish the story and intrigue surrounding my family’s tiny cemetery. We last left off with my cousins in disbelief, earth-moving machines tossing grave markers into a creek bed while looking down the barrel of a shotgun, and both sides believing that they were the rightful owners of the land in question.

I am the fourth great grandniece of Keren Reeve, born in about 1816 and daughter of the memorial subject of the tiny cemetery, Isaac Reeve, my fifth great grandfather. Keren never married, and lived the farming life with her brother, John, for many years until her death. Prior to her death on 14 May 1885, she deeded the land for the cemetery as “one acre, more or less” for the purpose of a family burial ground, a very common custom at the time in Illinois. Her parents and other family members already were at rest there, and it was Keren’s desire to preserve this land officially for that purpose.

In the 1880s, it was still commonplace in Illinois for a document such as a deed to be written, signed, and witnessed, and then taken to the court clerk for filing and affixing of the clerk’s seal. Filing at that time consisted of the clerk copying the document by hand into the clerk’s record. The dutiful clerk in Morgan County, Illinois, did just that, and as far as Keren Reeve knew, the land was preserved perpetually as the family cemetery.

Now we’ve all copied things by hand before, right? Maybe it wasn’t a deed, but some record? Or something simple, like a friend’s Christmas cookie recipe? A phone number while standing at the mall after you’ve run into someone you haven’t seen in ages?  Did you ever make a mistake and copy it wrong?

To make a long story short, that’s what the clerk had done.

I’m going to stop for a second and apologize to the reader for not having the deed images available to post here today. I wanted to finish this story for those who might be waiting to find out the gory details, but having moved not too long ago and being in the midst of planning a wedding (mine), I have not unpacked the most “precious” of my genealogical goodies. So I’m doing this next part from memory in the midst of about 30 boxes of family history materials.

The clerk of Morgan County at the time the deed was filed made an error in transcription. Illinois follows the township mapping system where everything is nice and neat and square. So instead of the cemetery being located, for example, in the NE1/4 of NE1/4 of Section 16 Township 15N Range 9W (which is actually Antioch Cemetery, just down the road) as Keren had written in the original deed, the clerk wrote “the SE1/4 of the SE1/4 of Section…”

So the comparison of the original deed in possession of my cousin and the deed as transcribed and recorded by the County Clerk showed that in essence, both parties were correct (though I have often wondered about the moral turpitude of someone bulldozing a cemetery). The moral case prevailed at this point, mostly because the damage had already been so extensively done. The new landowner stopped his destruction, and my cousins were left to tend to what was left of the tiny cemetery, which they did for many, many years. This spring, I am mounting a huge clean-up effort to bring the tiny place of rest back out of the bushes that have now overtaken it while I have been away from caretaking it. My cousins entrusted me with Keren’s original deed and all of the affidavits and research that was done to save the cemetery and it is the least I can do to continue to preserve it.

So what did I learn from this story? Original documents are original depending upon what the meaning of “original” is. The best original document you can possibly find as “proof” of the existence of a person or place is THE best source to use. It’s important to know the provenance of such an original – who had it and where was it kept for the past 100 or so years? Search, search, and search again until you are certain you have exhausted every angle, every record. Listen to the stories your relatives have to tell, because they may give you a lot of information, and be quite entertaining to boot.

And no matter how beautiful their handwriting, former clerks of the court were human, too. 

Advances in Data Storage - Since 1862

The "Abraham Lincoln Observer" blog from the Springfield, Illinois, State Journal-Register http://www.sj-r.com/blogs/alo/x890736820/Advances-in-data-storage comes up with some real goodies as it seeks to protect the name of our city's favorite son. I thought this was pretty cute.

RootsTech 2012 Can Sniff My Kindle

I belong to the Facebook page “I have more books than friends”. It’s not a high-volume site, but their posts are interesting, and I find it very comfy to belong there, sort of like relaxing on the couch with an interesting read. I’ve rarely met a book I didn’t like, especially where the topic is history or genealogy or some associated subject.

I’ve gotten over the fact that my daughter has utilized online textbooks for a few years now, though she occasionally stresses the seams of her backpack. I love the ability to download new books, and to find out-of-print books online. I keep thinking that I should have saved space by now using digital books instead of more tall shelves, but alas, I need more shelves. A couple of people who shall go unnamed have gently suggested that I might prune my library. Ummm, no.

I mention this because of a startling development in the RootsTech  2012 Conference (www.rootstech.org). This is an annual conference geared toward genealogy through technology – a very worthy undertaking and an educational opportunity that many of us cannot do without. I say that not having attended the conference personally, but by virtue of reading and hearing tons of useful output from it last year. This year, however, the RootsTech group has decided that we really only need that technology to do our research, that technology is the only concern one would have while immersed in their educational seminars.

They have banned booksellers from the conference.

I’m all for technology. It makes my life easier, and at times, it’s darn fun. I hope the group at RootsTech will rethink their position, though. If you close your eyes and sniff a Kindle (please forward me photos if you do), does it have that paper pulp woody smell, or the leatherbound feel of a slightly worn favorite book?  Maybe it’s possible to have a book’s author sign their work from your mobile phone app, but won’t it slide off into mobile oblivion when you run your fingers over it? (yes, this could be an issue with me and my touch screen Android, but I digress) And honestly, for those purists out there (makes guilty face), is a digital image really the exact same thing as the original page from the book that's in your hand?  Seriously, can you imagine a major genealogy conference without booksellers (who also sell technology books)? I say pish-posh.

To assume that attendees at RootsTech 2012 would not want to peruse the many booksellers of the genealogical sphere is absurd. A book is still a book. I have autographed genealogy books that, to me, are absolute treasures. Why not be a well-rounded genealogist, and utilize technology AND good old-fashioned books? That’s what I’ve done, and will continue to do. Hopefully, RootsTech will re-examine their position, and remember that kindness and sharing takes the genealogist just as far as technology, and sometimes, just a little bit farther. 

BlackSheep Sunday - What Ever Happened To Arthur?

As genealogists, what would we do without our Black Sheep ancestors? They often provide us with immense challenges and great entertainment, which translates sometimes into fits and starts during eons of research hours that ultimately end in a rather large brick wall. In the spirit of the "hunt", I prefer to celebrate these less than model citizens. It also helps to remind myself that it was their conduct or situation that branded them as Black Sheep to begin with, and that I had nothing to do with it, and thus, am free from guilt. 

One such infamous character of mine is one Arthur B. Alexander. I know so little about him that he barely qualifies as a Black Sheep, but as many of us have uttered, "something must've happened and it must've been very bad." 

Arthur was the grandson of John A. Alexander, a Civil War veteran from Illinois. Arthur's father, Charles, married Lucy Zook in Morgan County, Illinois, on 25 January 1883. Arthur was born near LaBelle, Missouri, on 21 October 1898. At some point between 1900 and July 1907, Arthur's mother, Lucy, disappears from the genealogical picture (at least for now, as I am unable to locate her in any fashion anywhere after 1900, but am told she had died). In July 1907, Arthur's father is in Roosevelt, Oklahoma Territory and marries one Hattie Harris Adams. 

Arthur is living with his father and stepmother on the 1910 census, and in 1920, we find him living with his married sister, Naomi Alexander Diehl and her husband. His next appearance is on a marriage license in Hobart, Kiowa County, Oklahoma, on 6 April 1920, where he marries Beulah Slater. Two daughters were born of this union - my grandmother and my great-aunt. 

That is the last we find of Arthur B. Alexander.

In a divorce petition filed in Illinois by Beulah Slater Alexander, it is claimed that Arthur left his wife and two children on or about 21 December 1927. Despite public notices of the filing, no response was ever received by Arthur to the court, and the divorce was granted in 1934. Both my great-aunt and my grandmother passed away never knowing for sure whatever happened to their father, although the subject was "touchy" for some reason. 

Being the inheritor of their genealogical notes, I set out to find out what happened to Arthur. Collaterals are always a great way to look around brick walls, so I found tons of information on Naomi, his sister, including locating living descendants of hers in Oklahoma. Eureka, I thought. Maybe they know something. 

They knew something alright. They knew enough to the degree that I was asked not to contact them on the subject ever again. 

It seems that Naomi, Arthur's sister, would not allow any mention or discussion of her brother because of some actions on his part that were less than admirable. One relative said he may have embezzled some money and left the country, but they really weren't sure, and out of respect for Mrs. Diehl (who passed away in 1978) they weren't going to discuss it with me any further. The daughter of this relative contacted me and asked that I not contact their family ever again on the subject, and of course, I have obliged. 

I may never know what happened to Arthur. At this point, it doesn't really matter, except that it leaves a blank where a date of death should be, and leaves a hole where a story might be passed on. I still look online occasionally as new records are digitized, and one day must research local newspapers from Oklahoma to see if I might uncover something scandalous and public there. That newspaper search is likely my last hope in knowing something of the story that so shocked one family and tore another apart. 

Arthur, one day I may just uncover your secret. 

GeneaPress: ISGS Announces New “Shop and Support ISGS” Page

GeneaPress: ISGS Announces New “Shop and Support ISGS” Page

Do you shop at Ancestry.com, GenealogyBank, Legacy Family Tree Store, Shop Family Tree, and other similar sites?

If you do, you now have a way to support the ongoing projects at the Illinois State Genealogical Society through a new affiliate marketing program with the above vendors (and then some).


Members of ISGS and non-members can use the "Shop and Support ISGS" page, located at http://ilgensoc.org/cpage.php?pt=195.


As an ISGS member, I can assure you that we are busy, busy, busy with some very exciting new projects that will deliver even more information to anyone interested in Illinois ancestors and Illinois history.


'Tis the season to be shopping, right??? Enjoy...I'm going to go make my list right now!