That race is run.

I recently learned two of my father's first cousins died. We weren't "close." However, we shared an interest in family history and I liked them. I hate "losing people."

They were both generous when asked genealogical questions. I received family stories and photos from each via email and snail mail. They solved a number of genealogical mysteries for me, giving me the low down on family rogues and reasons to be proud of some others.  I liked knowing they were still alive.

Ray was a double first cousin to my father. Ray's father was my paternal grandfather's brother. Ray's mother was my paternal grandmother's sister (i.e., 2 sisters married 2 brothers). He was a gentleman, kind and friendly. If curiosity and enthusiasm can be family traits, then I recognized those shared qualities in him. 

I knew Gary better. His father was another of my paternal grandfather's brothers. Gary was a polyglot who went to South Korea in 1964 to teach English and to study Asian languages. He never married, but he fell in love with South Korea. He stayed there for the rest of his life as a hired word-slinger, translating and editing. He had a passion for Esperanto, always hoping it could become a common language. Eventually he gave up his U.S. citizenship to become a citizen of South Korea. He said he had no axe to grind, being a citizen was just easier.

I wish we had corresponded more. There's so much more I want to know, and they were the only ones alive to tell me. I should have thanked them more profusely, and I would like to have had the opportunity to say goodbye. Now that race is run.

Death is so freakin' permanent. 

Evil is as evil does

I read a post on Facebook yesterday that gave me pause. It began: "Today Democracy Died!" I was moved by the strong emotion; however, I don't agree.

We are all disgusted by that sham of a trial in the Senate. We ask ourselves, "How can there be a trial if witnesses are not called, and evidence not presented?" Well, the answer is simple, there can't be. That was not a trial.

When the Senate votes to acquit down party lines, it will  be a vote of shame. History will record it as such. Donald Trump will not be exonerated simply because he was not removed by the Senate. The House impeached him, and that impeachment stands forever. He can never escape that great truth. He was impeached.

We knew the Senate would do this, and that Trump would not be removed from office as a result. This is awful, but not a surprise. The thing we must do is persevere, organize, register voters, and vote to remove him in November.

Call me a political literalist, but Democracy is not something that can die. It is an idea, a political construct, a governmental norm for many enlightened nations. I take comfort in history. Yes, evil exists, but it never triumphs in the end. It only rises to the top when we allow it.

Let's vote for a Democratic nominee who can actually beat him, and who has the ability to bring this country together. Enough with the division and hate that evil thrives upon.

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

We did a last minute, quick trip to St. Petersburg, FL on the Gulf Coast today to take Tom's guitar to a trusted guitar store for repairs.  Photos:

St. Pete's municipal marina

a boat motor

heron

just a sign

antique gumball machines

Guitar store

I think these are slides for a guitar

banjo

Wish I had the nerve to go inside this bar alongside the road

This bad boy jumped up on our table, stole Tom's crackers, and flew away

Dragging it out

As you know, we recently visited our Kentucky family to meet our great grandchild. What you don't know is they took us to a Star Wars themed drag brunch. OMG, was THAT fun.

It's a new world, a better world when your daughter, granddaughter, and future granddaughter-in-law take Grandpa and Grandma to a drag brunch. I had to laugh when R texted me and asked if we'd like to go. My response? "Are ya kiddin'? YES!" For some reason, she wasn't surprised. 

As each one sashayed past our table, we whooped it up and handed them tips. I was overcome with grandmotherly love for all the performers. Since I was sitting at the end of the table I was able to I tell each one either "You are my favorite" or "You look beautiful!"  Okay, make me say it, I threw a few kisses, too. 

Looking and learning

We recently returned from a deeply satisfying trip where we met our gorgeous great granddaughter.

She is only one month old. Like a new puppy, she's just learning to keep her eyes open and look around. When she is awake, she's fully engaged. I get the distinct feeling that with everything she sees, or smells, or hears, or touches, she is actively learning.

Then I wonder how you can possibly learn without language? I'm so used to having language skills dominate my existence, I forget there are other ways to learn. When you are a month old, you learn with all of your senses. Everything is new, and most everything seems wonderful. 

I want to be more like that baby.  

Complete Lives

The majority of people seem to marry and produce children. When researching genealogy I wonder if their lives were meaningful or if they were happy? What's usually missing with genealogy records is the backstory.
Vital records don't tell us is who was a cheapskate, who ran off with the milkman, or who left home and never came back. Every once in a while there are stories that fill in the gaps and gives one pause.

I came across a 5th great grandfather who was a Revolutionary War soldier. He was born in Virginia about 1760, and married in 1780. He had 6 children with his wife.

He left his family prior to 1810, to live with another woman. He seems to have beat his mistress "mercilessly" on more than one occasion. Later court testimony claims she finally warned him if he did it again, she would kill him. Unfortunately, she made the mistake of warning him in front of witnesses. He "drowned" not long afterwards, in 1821.

Or maybe not. Upon examination of the body, the authorities discovered a wound "on the left breast about 3/4 of an inch in a circular form. Whatever it was which the deceased had been wounded with supposed had caused his death, passing between the ribs, none of which were fractured."

The mistress was indicted for his murder. Later she was convicted of second degree murder, and sentenced to 12 years in prison.  

His wife lived until 1840, but I found no information about her. I hope she had a good life after the old man left. 

I have no further information about his mistress, either. I feel sorry for her. A woman of her time living outside of marriage with a brutal man didn't likely have many options. And, of course, she warned him.

Women's lives are nearly invisible. It is kind of sad when only the bad guys leave a trail.

This is just an old photo I found online.  It is labelled "The Absolom Davis family".  I am  not related to this family.  I love it though. You don't often find casual old photos like this. It says a lot about these people's lives.

When (xxxxx) ruins Christmas

Growing up, I had many wonderful Christmases. Unfortunately, the one I remember the most is when my father ruined Christmas by getting drunk and mean. All the glorious anticipation, preparation, money spent, cooking and baking was for naught that year. Daddy ruined Christmas. 

It was a horrible holiday, absolutely traumatic. I was in 5th grade. I have long since forgiven him, but unfortunately it isn't the sort of thing one forgets. Human beings being what they are, trauma sticks. 

So, if you ruined your children or grandchildren's Christmas this year, please get help. You can't change what happened, or wipe it from their memories.  However, you still have time to redeem yourself by getting help with whatever your problem is. Make it your problem to resolve, not their problem to endure.

Christmas Eve Memories

Christmas Eve was the high point in my youth. My large family exchanged presents from siblings on the night before Christmas. We would have a casual but special meal and all the cookies would come out of hiding. We walked in the dark to our parish church for midnight mass. There would be flowers, incense, and angels singing Latin from the choir. Christmas Eve was a celebration of the senses. 

My paternal grandmother came to our house early in the evening with her profound love, mystical kindness, homemade divinity candy, and peanut butter fudge (for crying out loud!). It was exciting to have her in our house. I can still hear her sweet, Tennessee drawl. I continue to feel her steadfast love. I'm not sure a better person ever walked this earth.

Grandpa wouldn't always come with her. Sadly, as he got older he became a cranky old misery guts. Oh well. Somebody's gotta play Scrooge.

She had just walked in.  I didn't even let her take off her coat before I took her picture.

Our first great grandchild

Our new (and first!) great-grandbaby was born a few days ago. All went well, and she is home now. She lives far from us, in the frozen northlands. However, her mother and grandmother keep us posted with photos and videos. I don't think she could be more beautiful, by the way. We fell in love with her long before she was born.

I'm happy to live in the modern world, where photos and videos are quick and easy to share. This beautiful child is in my husband's genealogical line, so I've been busy the last few days going through old photos of his family as far back as I can find. Most roads lead back to Ireland, the UK, and Germany in my husband's family.

I have to wonder about the ancestors who endured their children moving to the U.S. How hard it must have been to wonder and wait long months for a letter informing one that new grandchildren and great grandchildren arrived. 

Here is an article about her 5th great grandmother,     Teresa (Solomon) Enders.  She was born in Deggendorf, Germany in 1825. Although she died in 1910, this article using her photo was published in 1927. 

That lovely boy!

Grandson N (7) is crazy about Monopoly, so we play it often. He wheels and deals with abandon. I fear he’s a natural capitalist, although he is somewhat of a bleeding heart liberal when it comes to his old Grandma. He insists on being the banker, and he WILL slip me money when I start to run out. On the down low, of course. I try VERY hard not to accept his largesse. 

When he and I play alone together, we go by N's rules. He brilliantly proposed that we each start out with a monopoly over one neighborhood on the board so we can immediately start buying houses. It speeds the game up considerably.

We can’t let Grandpa know, because he would disapprove of altering the rules. N refers to Grandpa as “Mr. Play-By-The-Rules Pants.”  N and Grandma disdain “the rules.”

We play on a 40 year-old board.  The same one we played on with his mother.