June 15, 1969 Waynesboro, Pennsylvania

I have to write down these thoughts to sort things out and bring a certain calmness to my being. Early in our marriage, I had to send my husband off to war to fight against a dictator. Now, I have sent my son Daniel off to war to find against Communism. Will God answer a mother’s prayer for the safety of her son?

Each evening as I watch the news with Walter Cronkite, I see images of war that hold a mother’s heart hostage in terror. The daily newspaper contains headlines that speak of young men being sent home to their families…dead or injured. Stationed in a communications bunker is Saigon, my son is doing his best to protect himself from harm. Will God answer a mother’s prayer for the safety of her son?

I hear on the television and the radio of demonstrations against the war on college campuses and on the city streets. Flags are being burned. “Hell, no…we won’t go!” rings in my ears. Our neighbor who is Canadian (and not a naturalized American citizen) told my husband that he is glad he will not have to send his sons to war. Slaps in the face from all around. Will God answer a mother’s prayer for the safety of her son?

Next, I will send off a letter to my Dan and tell him of our everyday happenings, such as his little sister’s high school dance and his niece’s toddler antics. I will send CARE packages of cookies and other homemade delights. As I seal the letter, I will send a prayer. Will God answer a mother’s prayer for the safety of her son?

~June Marie Yeakle Haffner, Daniel’s mother

Note: June would become my mother-in-law. I would meet her son Daniel two years later…safely home from Vietnam. God did answer a mother’s prayer for the safety of her son.

15 April 1862 DuPage County, Illinois

She stepped out of the cabin so she could clear her head. Many thoughts had pitched a claim in her mind. A gentle breeze touched her face and cheeks, a gentleness that was much needed. Now just to calm her thinking.

Maria Magdalena took a step back in time to focus on the beginning. The breeze reminded her of another place…the breeze and winds that enabled her ship from France to deposit her in Manhattan, New York City, 42 years ago. The 12 year old knew little of this strange land. What was to happen to her?

Opening her eyes, she surveyed the prairie surrounding their homestead. She stepped into the present and the reality of this day. She was the sole keeper of her nine children with the oldest being 15 years old and the youngest 3 months. Her husband Amos was away at war. She was their protector, their strength, their love. It was her God-given role to step up and be her family’s all. What was to happen to her? To them?

If she could step forward in time, where would she land? What would happen to her?

Note: Maria Magdalena Kraemer was my second great grandmother. And this was what would happen to her…she would give birth to two more children with her Amos being safely home from war. She would be among the many pioneer families who migrated to Kansas in 1871. She would live until 1901. Stepping back in time, I wish to meet her and the breezes on the prairie.

If faith in the Lord could be delineated on a family tree, there it would appear. A seed of faith as small as a mustard seed would grow into a sturdy branch. In 1866, John Francis Nickel and his family of Williams County, Ohio, would worship the Lord in the Methodist faith.

As John traveled his life, he carried that faith to Osborne County, Kansas. He was a widower who settled his three sons and their families there. All remained parishioners in the Alton Methodist Church. They served on committees that provided for the needs of others. Praying, reading Scripture, they became God-fearing members of the community. John, my third great grandfather, passed the faith onto this son James.

James, my second great grandfather, passed the faith onto his daughter Sarah Almina. Sarah, my great grandmother, and her husband passed this gift onto their son Andrew Earl Storer. Andrew and his wife placed this faith into the hands of their daughter Merna Mae Storer. (Andrew is my grandfather and Merna my mother.)

And in time, I would receive the gift of faith from my parents. I would not follow the Methodist faith. I would be led in a different direction by my father’s people…I would be Catholic. As I embrace my faith, I share with my ancestors the same beliefs in God and the Trinity. Amen.

April 15, 1872 Osborne County, Kansas

Heard tell that he came here five years ago. Can you imagine…the man who once made likenesses of President Lincoln was here in Kansas? They said he even took likenesses of the aftermath of battles in the War of the Rebellion. He came west by wagon with that magical box of his. They say the Kansas Pacific Railroad hired him to show the progress of the railroad being built across here. Can you imagine?

Heard tell that man made likenesses of settlers making dugouts on their homestead land. He wanted to capture the feel of families building their first homes on the prairies where trees, and thus lumber, were at a premium. He aimed to show how homesteaders would scrabble onto the sod to fashion shelters. Can you imagine?

Heard tell that man left his magic box behind. He went back East to live in Washington, D.C., where he once began his work. Yep, he gave up making instant portraits. Heard tell he started an insurance agency. Said his name is Alexander Gardner. Can you imagine?

~ Signed… Mary Etta Soule Storer Osborne County, Kansas

Note: This is an imaged telling of Mary Etta’s account of Gardner coming to Kansas. She is my second great grandmother.

In thinking out loud about this prompt word and it being Women’s History Month, who in my family tree can step up to the plate and call out my name to get my attention? Which of my female ancestors…who is this week’s winner?

If one measures achievement in overcoming obstacles, then my paternal grandmother Anna Mroz wins the spotlight. Orphaned, 14 years old, she buys a ticket to come from Poland to New York through Ellis Island. Her ship leaves from Trieste, Italy, which is over 700 miles away. It is 1906, and part of the journey will be by foot while carrying her possessions in a sack. Her achievement: she is the first person in my family to see the Statue of Liberty.

If one measures achievement in overcoming financial struggles during the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl, then my grandmother Isabella Mary Boultinghouse wins the medal. Married at 19 in 1922, she manages to feed and clothe her two girls and husband. She knows how to sew, crochet, and embroider. She earns extra money by selling baby sets (booties and bonnets) to department stores. Her achievement: she is a role model in my family for women learning to be independent.

If one measures achievement in honoring one’s husband’s dreams, then my 2nd great grandmother Mary Etta Soule takes first place. Born in New York and traveling down the Erie Canal, Mary makes it to Minnesota to claim land and create a home with her widowed mother and brothers. There, she marries and goes with husband Andrew to live in Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and finally Kansas. Her achievement: she helps start a family farm and family tree branches in pioneer country…a sheep farm unique to the area.

Finally, if one measures achievement in being a silent majority in the Women’s Liberation Movement, then the kudos go to my mother Merna Mae Storer. Born in Kansas and swearing to get off the farm, she is 18 years old when she goes to work at the State Capitol building in Topeka. Meeting a soldier sweetheart at a dance, she moves to the suburbs of Washington, D. C., after the war to marry and have her family. Because of her husband’s government job and absences from the home, she raises three children. In her later years, she will start a craft business…paint, sell, manage the bookwork, schedule appointments and shows. She becomes a success in her newly adopted hometown in Pennsylvania. Her achievement: becoming and being her own woman.

What is the measure of achievement? Look at, exam, reflect on, emulate the women in our family trees as we discover them among the leaves and branches.

He was a simple farm boy, but he spoke the language. He became fluent at a young age. The language would bear with him through childhood, during young adulthood, and into his middle aged years.

During childhood, he learned the language while working outside in nature. He used it daily on his father’s farm. He shared the melodic sound of it with his older brother and twin sister. But it was especially reserved for those creatures he loved most dearly.

In his young adulthood, he was called away from the farm. He was drafted to be a language expert in the U.S. Army during World War I. He was to train new recruits to learn the language and care for those placed in their charge. He passed on his secret language and gestures.

Once home, he married and raised two daughters. Now, a second generation would learn the language. He could pass on his love. On the farm, he would speak his love language as he rode out to far pastures to check on cattle herds. He would entrust his beloved daughters to ride out each day and attend a one room schoolhouse.

It was my grandfather, Andrew Earl Storer, who spoke the language starting in boyhood. On an Osborne County, Kansas farm, his language of horses was a lifetime love. He was fluent in the language. He passed it on to my mother, Merna Mae Storer. So beautiful, so memorable, so heartwarming…my Gramps and horses.

In the book of Isaiah, it is written, ” I have called you by name, and you are mine.” She would be called several different names during her lifetime. Born on the first day of spring in 1828, Maria Magdalina Kraemer was French; however, her part of France was often claimed by Germany. She bore a German name. She spoke French.

Family stories reveal that Maria was educated in a convent school, where she learned the domestic art of doing fine work embroidery. Somehow, sometime, she came to Manhattan in New York. No record of her parents or means of passage can be found for Maria. It is there that she Anglicized her name…she would be called Mary.

At the age of 14, she met U.S. Army private Amos Howell Boultinghouse. He was from Illinois but stationed at Fort Columbus, New York, near Manhattan. Somehow, sometime, they met and agreed to marry. He was ten years her senior. On her marriage license application, she listed her first name as Mary from Alsace, France. She lied about her age and stated she was 22 years old. (She would not need a guardian to sign off on her marriage as she claimed to be an adult.) She was now called Mary Boultinghouse.

After a time, the couple moved to Amos’ native Illinois, where they farmed and began a family. Mrs. Boultinghouse would give birth to ten children. She would be called “Mother”. During the couple’s 18th year of marriage, Amos reenlisted in the Army during the Civil War to serve in the Union’s 55th Illinois Regiment. At times, Mary was referred to as “Sergeant Boultinghouse’s Mrs.”. Together, she and her children tended the farm during Amos’ three year absence.

In 1870, the Boultinghouses decided to take advantage of the Homestead Act. They came by wagon to Osborne County, Kansas. Walking to Kansas, Mary was pregnant with her 11th child. A few days after arriving, she gave birth to her son in a tent. He was the first white male born in the county. The baby was named after Mary’s favorite French hero, Lafayette. Neighbors and townspeople would refer to her as “Mrs. B”.

As Mary aged, the townspeople called her Grandma B. She was considered the matriarch of a pioneer family and a revered citizen. Amos went home to the Lord in 1893 while Mary lived until 1901. They were buried side by side in a small cemetery. She had been called home by the Lord. I call her second great grandmother…treasured and revered.

A precious gem resting in a gift box of a valley…punctuated by low mountains…it was presented to me 50 years ago. I have held it tenderly in my care and even more so now. It is an heirloom.

I grew up in a small hometown also nestled into a valley. At a young age, I had migrated to this place. I knew the charms, elegance of a small town. I knew all the places to love. As a young woman, though, I had yet to become acquainted with all of its secret nuances. I needed experiences through the years to bring the revelation of its exquisiteness to me.

My husband Daniel presented this heirloom of his hometown to me in April, 1974, as a first wedding anniversary present. We were relocating here to an apartment so he could be closer to his job. A few months later, I would gain a position as a teacher at a small Catholic school. Through the years, I learned more about the part his family had played here from employment at a machine shop to the establishment of the fire company. They had roots here along with hometown pride.

In September, 2021, my beloved Daniel went home to God. Often, people would ask me if I was going to stay here. My response, “Dan gave me his hometown as a gift to love. So, I shall.” The gift of a family heirloom has a name…Waynesboro, Franklin County, Pennsylvania.

His name appeared like a shooting star across the sky. Then, he fizzled out of sight on the horizon. I had found my grandfather’s older brother as he disappeared into the mist in front of a brick wall.

A cousin alerted me that our grandfather’s brother, Josef Slabik, appeared in a marriage license application in the records of Manchester, Hillsborough County, New Hampshire. He also could be found in a birth record for his daughter. So, the search was on.

As a 21 year old, Josef married a fellow Polish immigrant Karolyna Makar on 21 October 1902. He was a weaver at the Amoskeag Textile Mill in that New Hampshire town. In researching the mill, it was one of the largest in the world at the turn of the century. Advertisements were placed in European newspapers to call workers to America. Were these ads Josef’s calling card to a new life from being a serf in his home country?

In October, 1905, Josef and Karolyna welcomed their first child, daughter Maryanna. Her birth certificate was located.

Then, the brick wall stands between me and the rest of the details of their lives. No appearances in passenger lists, censuses, city directories, town records. Vanished…unknown…no paper trail to their lives. I could just shake those branches of my family tree in frustration. The paternal side of my tree is this side of barren.

What was found did tell me of my grandfather’s older brother who came before him to America. My immigrant grandfather never spoke of his family. So, these facts became little diamonds in the rough. Perhaps, another day more can be found about Joseph, Karolyna, and Maryanna.

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October, 1732             Ipswich, Essex County, British Colony of Massachusetts

As my life draws to an end, I think of all I was to all of my people. I have been asked to relate how I made my living as a family man, as a citizen of the British Colony, as a citizen of the Kingdom of God. And so, I will share my story.

As a family man, I was faithful husband to Elizabeth and our eight children. One might give my job description as a yeoman. I was a freeholder of my farm land. The hard work of my family took care of the land and fed us. Life was hard…life was unpredictable…life was heavy. We kept our eye on the Lord to steady us.

As a citizen of the British Colony of Massachusetts, I took up arms in King Philip’s War. King Philip was the name we gave to the Native American Wampanoag chief Metacom. This took place in 1675. The chief and his people would not recognize our British authority and would not recognize our intent to claim more lands as our own. So, the fighting began. I was a witness to its violence.

As a citizen of the Kingdom of God, I was a deacon in my church in Chebacco Parish. The parish formed as the community of the Second Church of Ipswich. My duties included caring for widows and orphans, overseeing financial matters, and cooperating with other deacons and the pastor. This church formed the lives of myself and my family.

And so, as I leave this Earthly life, I ask the Almighty to judge me as He may.

Note: Seth Story and Elizabeth are my 7th great grandparents. A section of their home in Ipswich is on display in the Smithsonian in the American History Museum.