May, 1871 Somewhere in Kansas

“At least, ten miles today…at least, ten miles today…at least,” commanded the voices in my head. Some days the grasslands and trails are wide and open while some days they are treacherous enough to slow us down. Oh, at least, ten miles today.

The voices in my head kept repeating conversations between myself and my farm neighbor. “Old man,” I could hear him say, “what are you doing? You’ve got a homestead here in Illinois. You’ve got married children and grandchildren here who will not be moving on. You’ve got youngins to raise. Didn’t I hear tell that a new baby is on the way? So, you want to pick up and drag your family across the way to Kansas for free land…why, your pa fought off Indians to keep this free land right here for you.”

As I looked out across the grasslands, I brought my mind back to the present. We had to cover at least ten miles this day on the wagon train. My family and I had to make it in time to settle in somewhere before the baby came. Walk, push on, keep going…I hear these words over and over as I watch over my family. We will be getting off the wagon train at Fort Leavenworth, a protected place to stay until we get supplies and are ready to finish the trip.

As we walked with the wagon and wife Mary rode, I kept my eyes on the horizon. At least, we have gotten this far…just over yonder is our new home.

~Amos H. Boultinghouse, 53 years old

Note: Amos is my second great grandfather who settled his final home in Osborne County, Kansas. After arriving in the county, his wife Mary gave birth inside a tent. Mary was French so the new son was named Lafayette. Why did Amos leave their home in Illinois? The reason is unknown.

25 September 1910 Tilden Township, Osborne County, Kansas

As I worked through the early morning, I was humming a little ditty. An overwhelming feeling of contentment had taken over. It was finally all completed…the construction of our farmhouse and the three barns. It had taken 12 years to get to this point. Alleluia, our home is now our home.

When we first married less than 20 years ago, we had drifted from Kansas to Louisiana. My husband Wash worked on the docks of the Mississippi River. Imagine a farm boy taking a job like that with a wife and baby to support! I prayed that God would show him the way back home. We returned to Kansas and bought a little farm. My heart rested at peace.

Wash had a cousin who bought and sold farms. This cousin convinced him that he had a more suitable farm to sell him than the one Wash currently owned…more acreage, better land, closer to family. Just like that, Wash made the deal and sold off our farm. The new farm had a rickety, old house on it. What in the world had he been thinking? We now had 4 children…and just how did he think we could live in that house? So we prayed and waited for our dreams to be fulfilled.

Finally twelve years later, we have a home. Lumber had to be hauled to our property. Carpenters and neighbors had to be asked to help with the house raising and barn raisings. I hand sewed curtains and quilts. I scrubbed and cleaned. I created a chicken yard complete with a coop. We were now raising seven children, ranging in ages from 2-19. A home…so sweet the sound and thought of it.

To celebrate our new homestead, we are hosting a barn dance on Friday night…complete with three musicians. Now won’t that be something! I am making a list of things my girls and I can do to get ready. For now, I will stop daydreaming, count my blessings, and start my day.

~Mina Storer

Note: Sarah Almina “Mina” Nickel Storer is my great grandmother. She and Wash were married for 55 years. Another child graced their family for a total of eight children. She was the consummate farm wife who spent much of her life on that homestead.

May 25, 1875 Bloomington, Osborne County, Kansas

As I lay down on my personal patch of the prairie, I smoothed out my skirts so I could stargaze. Always I enjoy this time of day to come out here and think. The skies are just brilliant as they fill themselves with diamond stars…a symbol of a blessing that is found in the Old Testament.

At 42 years of age, I feel as if I have lived by roaming this land…not settling in one place…obedient and loyal to a husband who has wanderlust. Finally, we are making our home here, and we plan to settle at last under this panorama of stars.

Oh, these stars and the night light! They seem to reach out and beg me to proclaim their brilliance and wonder. During this quiet alone time, I can use them to number my list of the people, places, and things I love most. Yes, they are a symbol of that blessing given long ago to Father Abraham. Now that blessing has been passed to me.

As I start to leave this sacred space and my meditation time, I think about putting my children to bed. I think about my husband Andrew telling me about his day. I think about that blessing given long ago: “I will number your descendants as the stars in the sky.” Now in this moment, God is using the stars as symbols of blessings coming to me and my children. Amen.

~Mary Etta Soule Storer

Note: Mary Etta is my second great grandmother. To me, she is a symbol of great strength, courage, and resilience. Amen.

Searching the Wyoming night skies for answers, she looked for solutions and resolutions to her life’s questions. For too long now, she had ridden hard on this trail ride termed her life. She had been abandoned, left homeless and penniless with no direction on her life’s compass. How did this happen to her? When would this rough ride be over?

Life began in 1925 when she lived with her parents near the oil fields in Casper, Wyoming. Her first years were filled all the wonderments of childhood. Her father taught her to love the outdoors. To her delight, he kept baby foxes for pets. He gave her the gift of loving horses and riding. He taught his little daughter to hunt and fish. He showed her about guns and shooting. Suddenly, her life changed and became upended eight years later with her parents’ bitter divorce. With the separation, she seemed to have been abandoned by her father. She rarely saw him. For the rest of her life, she would search for someone she loved as much as her father.

During her senior year in high school, she became infatuated with a good looking, fast talking, smooth operator named Kem. He had graduated the year before. Swept off her feet, she dropped out to school to marry him. At that point, her life took a drastic downward spiral.

From 1942 to 1972, she would marry eight times. Two she would marry twice. Each marriage would last an average of 18 months. Most of the divorces were the husband filing against her for indignities. She was the mother of one son, whom she gave to her remarried mother. The boy was adopted and had a name change. It was like sand sifting through her fingers with no real home or love to claim as only hers.

When she passed away in 1989, only two marriages were listed in her obituary. She left no money for her burial expenses. Would she be laid to rest in an unmarked grave?

A visit to the Willow Grove Cemetery, Buffalo, Wyoming, tells her final story. The tombstone inscription bears an obvious mystery. Could a genealogy detective solve it?

Note: For many years, I did not know the identity of Jack Coffee. Today as I searched Ancestry, I noted several new records for Betty Lou. Two of the records revealed that she had married John/Jack Coffee in 1959 and in 1964. He had stepped forward to place a tombstone in her final resting spot. Peace be with you, Betty Lou.

An elderly gentleman from our community had a genealogical request for me: would I do a newspaper search for him. His grandfather was a Civil War veteran, and he wondered if there was a mention of him receiving a pension. Did a short newspaper article contain that information? Well, indeed, it did…along with some other interesting reports.

The elderly gentleman, who had requested the information, was well known in our town since he had been a Justice of the Peace for almost 40 years. He had stories galore to tell about cases and criminals. Little did he know…or I…that I would uncover a criminal case about people in his family.

Among the research finds for his family, there appeared “National Inquirer” type reports of two brothers who were counterfeiters. They counterfeited nickels in 1894. They were caught. They were jailed…they escaped…they were caught…they were remorseful.

When I presented the elderly gentleman with the research articles, I said, “I included research about the counterfeiters.” He was stunned…what…who in his family were counterfeiters? When he saw the names, he related that the men in the article were his grandfather, father, and uncle. He was never told his father was a counterfeiter. He was never told his father had been in jail. He did remember that a playmate had teased him about his “Daddy being a jailbird.” At the time, he thought the playmate was picking on him. He never questioned it with his mother. The secret was not divulged.

An elderly gentleman came and asked me to do research…it was 2016…more than a 100 years since his dad broke the law. His family had never talked about it.

Note: I also did research for a lady who had questions about her grandparents. Two of her grandfathers had been murdered by their brothers. She knew nothing about it…her family never talked about it.

About 40 years ago, it was a simple meeting. Brief introductions were made. She was the mother of a friend who lived at the beach. We were sitting in chairs near the water and savoring the cool breezes coming our way. So, this was my friend’s mother…Miss Julia.

Miss Julia spoke in those soft, Southern tones that declared she was a lady. She was carrying a big brimmed straw hat that stated a lady needs to protect her face from getting freckled. She sat down, joined us, and turned to declare, “I have finished my book.” At that time, I was a professional writer so her declaration really caught my attention.

Miss Julia had been working on a family tree and writing individual stories on her ancestors. This interested me since this family history writing was new and unfamiliar to me. So, I asked her, “Miss Julia, may I read your book, please?” Reverently she handed me the notebook binder of stories.

As I sat on the covered porch in a rocker, I met the most interesting people. Her family were true Southerners…delightful, warm, friendly, various jobs devoted to service of others. I spent a delightful afternoon in the company of Miss Julia’s family.

Little did I know or Miss Julia either…she planted a seed that day: a flower that would grow to fruition in 20 more years. That’s when I discovered Ancestry and how to put a tree together. Then it would lead me to Amy Johnson Crow who would mentor mein her 52 Ancestors. The family storytelling has and will continue to come full circle. Thank you, Miss Julia.

24 May 1906 Ellis Island, New York City

This all started with a dream. This all started with letters. This all started when my brother Antoni set it in motion. This all started when I left my village with four companions. This all started when we walked and took trains from Poland to Italy. This all started…

At the beginning of this dream, letters came from Antoni in America. He begged me to join him. He had sent a ticket in a letter for my older sister Katarzyna in 1902. Now it was my turn to meet them. I had to memorize the contents of the letters since I could not read nor write…my parish priest read them to me. A ticket and American money came for me…for me!

In the letter’s instructions, I was to walk and take a train to Trieste, Italy. I knew nothing of this place. Where was it? I would be accompanied by four others from my village. I was told to pack my possessions in a blanket and bind it up so I could carry it. Actually, I had so little. I made a packet of food. I was ready to start my journey to the unknown.

When we arrived in Trieste, I had never seen such activity of big ships and so many people. I heard all kinds of spoken tongues. I noted people of all ages. My companions and I held hands so we would not be separated from one another. We had to answer many questions so that our answers could be written down. I was told by my brother to state my age as 16…I was actually 14. Our ship’s name was the Georgia. We were to be in a part of the ship called the steerage. The golden day to start our journey was 30 April 1906.

In steerage, we were given food rations and were expected to prepare our own food. We crowded into bunks for sleeping and kept an eye open on our bundles. When we cried, we comforted one another. All these strange people, all these strange tongues, all these strange smells. We looked forward to the times we could go on deck and breathe the air. In just 25 days we would be in this place called New York City.

In his letters, my brother had told me to look for the Lady in the harbor. When I saw her, I would know that I was in America. I would soon be able to depart the ship and take a ferry with other passengers to a place called Ellis Island. There we would be examined by doctors, prodded by officials, questioned by workers. If I passed all these stations, I would be released to my waiting brother. I would walk down the Stairs of Separation, and I would take the aisle to the left for those going to New York and New England. We would be going to a place called Connecticut where I would be employed as a scrubwoman at a residence.

As I sit here on a bench in the Great Hall at Ellis Island, I am waiting to hear my name called. My companions and I are shedding tears since we will be soon parted. We are all headed to different places from one another…Philadelphia and Jersey City. Will we ever see each other again?

Here I sit on 24 May 1906…a day that I will forever remember…on a bench waiting. Finally, I hear it…”Anna Mroz”. I have been called forward…and so the rest of my dream begins.

Note: Anna Mroz is my paternal grandmother. So young…so brave. How long she resided in Connecticut with her brother is unknown to me. A few years later, she would relocate to Philadelphia. There she would become sweethearts with her Polish neighbor, Franciszek. They would be married on 3 October 1914.

April 3, 1910 Bloomington, Osborne County, Kansas

Dearest sister Clara Dell,
Oh my stars, I am so excited. I utterly cannot believe it. It’s like a fairy tale story. Husband Wash announced to the family at Sunday dinner that he is buying an automobile. How will this change our lives here on the farm? What does this actually mean? I just have so many questions.

Wash said it all started when he went into town one Saturday, and friends at the elevators started debating about the merits of owning an automobile. Pros, cons, and personal opinions were tossed all around. Someone stated that going over to Wolley’s Implements to see an actual automobile might be worth the trip. Who was interested in going along?

Wash went along with questions. Questions about operating it, maintaining it, paying for it were some of the queries. Did he think he could actually drive it because it was certainly different from taking out a team of horses and a wagon? To him, there was a lot to consider.

Finally, he said, he wanted to surprise us all at family dinner. Buying the Model T could change how often the family went into town on a Saturday. It could change getting to church. Why, they all may have more time to visit neighbors. I just thought to myself how blessed we all are. To me, I would feel less isolated as a farm wife…I could see and visit more folks.

I have to confess my sister-in-law Hattie asked me why I did not question Wash about the decision being made without me. Frankly, it is not of her business plus I trust him to make good decisions for our family. Enough said.

In the meantime, Wash needs to have Mr. Woolley’s men give him driving instructions before we take delivery. I cannot wait…I feel this is going to change our lives.

Love from your sister,
Mina

Note: Sarah Almina Nickel and Washington Irving Storer are my great grandparents. They had 8 children who were all still at home in 1910. So a total of 10 people got to feel the changes that the purchase of this automobile brought.

Spring, 1946 Topeka, Kansas

Am I crazy? Have I thought this all through? Am I certain that my decision is what I want? Will it all work out according to my dreams of a future?

Well, my folks think I am gambling on a promise. They do not like that I am moving from the land that I know to the unknowns of a large bustling city across the country. My wartime roommates think it is romantic. We all had jobs at the State Capitol. My gal pals Marge, Maxine, Edith, and Phyllis are all planning to meet their guys back from the war right here in Topeka as they plan their new lives together. Me…I am headed to Washington, D.C., to a secretarial job with the Department of the Navy. I will be living in a women’s apartment building with other gals working for the government. There, I will meet Eddie, who has taken a job with the Signal Corps.

In Topeka three years ago at a dance at the American Legion, I met Private Edward Slabik who was in training before he would be shipped out. We saw each other several times, and we had written back and forth during his time in combat in the Pacific Theater. Those letters contained many dreams and plans. Would all these words and promises come true?

So, all on my own, I planned how to get from Topeka to Washington by train. I had memorized the places I will switch trains. I have packed and unpacked my one suitcase. Finally, I have gotten my folks’ blessing. I will be leaving tomorrow…21 year old me as I am ready to meet my destiny. May God be with me.

~Merna Mae Storer

Note: Merna Mae is my mother. She claims she knew my dad for five days before he left for war. My dad claims they knew each other for two whole weeks. They married in Spring, 1947. They would be together for the next 60 years.

8 August 1958 Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Reverently, he touched the airline tickets and passport on his dresser. He had not been home in nearly 50 years. Whom would he know when he finally arrived? Who would rush out to hug him? For that trip back to his homeland, he would go alone just as he had come here to this land…alone.

This trip would be different from his first: he had come here by ship with a ticket in steerage. He had little money in his pockets. Now for this excursion, he would be flying with a ticket in coach. He would be carrying travelers checks to pay for all the souvenirs he planned to bring back.

In just a few hours, he would arrive in New York City at Idlewild Airport to take the first leg of his journey back to his native country. His daughter and grandsons were taking him to see him safely off with best wishes for safe travel. He had never flown before.

Reverently, he opened his newly obtained passport and read his name: Frank Slabik. He saw his picture…my, how he had changed in that almost 50 years. Back then, he had recorded his name on the ship’s manifest as Franciszek Slabik. He was an American citizen now as his passport stated. He would be returning to his native country of Poland.

In just a few hours, he would be boarding a KLM airlines plane with flight to Amsterdam. He would make a connection and land in Poland. In the time he had been away, his beloved motherland had suffered from two world wars. Would anyone and anything look familiar?

As he descended the staircase of his daughter’s home, he carried his suitcase along with the precious tickets and passport. It was time to leave for Idlewild and the city. Just as he left Poland in 1912, he felt that same anxiousness now…that same longing for the traveling to the unknown. He was taking his first flight…a flight back to his family and roots.

Note: My grandfather Frank Slabik went back to Poland in 1958 for a visit to his hometown in the Carpathian Mountains. He reported that he gloried in the telling of his life in America and in his adopted city of Philadelphia. It brought tears to his eyes in the relating to us about his trip.