A simple man. A simple life. A simple story. He was the oldest child in my great grandparents’ (Wash and Mina Storer’s) family. He was born in 1891 in Louisiana where his father worked on the levees on the Big Muddy. The little family only stayed there a few months and returned to their former home in Kansas. His father felt that he was better suited working the land than near the water.

Once back in Kansas, the family home was in a cave until the little family could save up to buy lumber for the building of a real home. So the boy Roy Eugene grew up learning to love the land, to nurture the soil, and to respect God’s handiwork. He learned to use his heart, hands, and mind to learn farming from his father and grandfather. He attended a one-room schoolhouse until he reached 7th grade. He was the big brother to four brothers (including Andrew, my grandfather) and three sisters.

When he turned 22, he married his sweetheart Myrtle Alice Britt. He and Myrtle married in a double wedding celebrated with his sister Myrtle and her beau Earl. The year was 1913. Roy and Myrtle settled down on their own 440 acre farm where they would raise three sons. They passed on to their boys their simple faith and love of the land. He and Myrtle would be married for 44 years, and she would pass on to Heaven 18 years before him. He continued to stay on the farm and live out a simple life.

During his adult life, Roy lived to serve God, his family, and his community. He was the member of a school board, a Mason, a leader in soil conservation, and a Sunday school teacher. He earned a reputation as a kind and helping neighbor…there to help when needed. His nieces and nephews called him “Uncle Dad” because of these qualities. Then, his friends and neighbors began to call him “Uncle Dad”, too.  “Uncle Dad” Storer was a simple man with a simple life…he was my oldest great uncle. He went home to the Lord in 1975…to the rich rewards of a God-fearing and loving man. His grey eyes and sweet smile will always be treasured by his family.

 

 

 

 

Maybe it was winning an art poster contest with a free trip to Topeka when she was in 8th grade…maybe that is when her journey into painting and creating began. Maybe it was that McCall’s magazine ad for correspondence courses in acrylic painting. No matter how and when, the artist turned a hobby into a much loved craft business…painting with lots of primary colors…colorful.

It was the late 1960s, and a young housewife wanted to expand her horizons. Setting up a makeshift studio in her basement, she first learned to paint leaves and roses. She practiced on wax paper so if she made too many mistakes, her papers would land in the trash. My goodness, she had a knack with the painting! Then, she practiced on bottles so if she made too many mistakes, her bottles would land in the trash. As her experience and expertise with the paints and patterns grew, she knew it was time to pick a medium on which to create her version of colorful kitchen decor.

Having grown up as a Kansas farm girl, she never stopped loving old kitchen utensils, coffeepots, wash boilers, and such. This would be her medium…she would be a tole painter. (Tole is the decorative painting of tin and wood.) She determined that she could find loads of old utensils at farm sales in the Pennsylvania countryside where she now lived with her family. Auctioneers would sell boxes of utensils for a quarter which she scarfed up. Her favorite auctioneer would call out at a sale, “Hey, Merna, here is a box with your kind of stuff!” In her own way, her paintings were becoming popular with the locals.

The time came when she wanted to set up a craft business and needed a name. Being a Kansas girl and loving  college basketball, she decided to call it The Jayhawker. (Jayhawker is a nickname for Kansas plus the mascot for University of Kansas.) She began setting up at craft fairs and gaining loyal customers. She set up a shop in her basement with hours by chance or appointment. She loved meeting people and making new friends. Credit for the success of her business also extended to her husband Ed who primed tin items for painting and accompanied her to craft shows.

She joined the National Tole Painters Association, an organization that she truly enjoyed. Each spring, a national convention was held in a major city…a chance to take daily lessons with nationally known artists. The conventions also featured tours and outings in the cities with travel right up Merna’s alley. When she returned home, she brought along fresh and colorful ideas. She flourished in her talent and craft.

The Jayhawker was in business for 30 years. She painted each day until midnight so she could have inventory for her next show. She estimated that she earned about a quarter an hour! But…she was ecstatic about her colorful creativity. She had found her artistic niche…Merna Mae (Storer) Slabik, tole painter!

That colorful painter was my mother. When we talked on the phone, she spent most of the conversation telling in details what her new pieces looked like. One day while on the phone, she said, “I have decided to put my paintbrushes away and retire…I am going to be a socialite!” Thus, began another chapter in her colorful life.

 

“Music is the soundtrack of your life,” touted Dick Clark. And so its lyrics and melodies resonated through her girlhood with its changing cadences and nuances. Her beloved songs changed and evolved as she grew and became her own person. Her playlist would become varied and expand with the times and culture.

In kindergarten, her little record player played “How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?” (Patti Page) and “A Teddy Bear’s Picnic” (Rosemary Clooney). She sang and danced as she played the songs over and over. She often threw in “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer” (Gene Autry), no matter the season. She listened to songs played by her dad on the stereo and radio, and she sang right along with him while in the bigger company of Nat “King” Cole, Keely Smith, and Frank Sinatra.

In grade school, she had other music mentors. Her babysitter introduced her to Elvis. Her friend’s big sister welcomed her to the world of Maria and Tony in “West Side Story”. A good friend had a stack of 45s that would be played so an older neighbor boy could teach them to dance… Dion, Little Richard, Chubby Checker, Dee Dee Sharp helped the girls learn to do the Mashed Potatoes, Twist, and Pony.

  Then, her music world really opened wide…a rite of passage would take her there. One Christmas, she received the ultimate teen gift…a transistor radio. This gift signified that she could be connected to any teen radio station on the East Coast. Nighttime was the best part of the day! Why, she could party with Cousin Bruce Morrow on WABC in New York. She could listen to the Top 40 with Dick Biondi on WLS, Chicago. She could follow Jack Kelly on WKBW in Buffalo, New York. Those AM stations were rockin’ and rollin’ with hit after hit along with teen talk. She was in teenage music heaven. When nightly reception was poor and could not draw in the stations, she tuned in to the local station WINC with DJ Joe Pasquale…why he took requests and dedications. Maybe, a secret someone would send a special song her way.

Life for her was dismal after the assassination of her beloved President Kennedy. She moped, she fretted, she mourned. Then, one midwinter day all those emotions were replaced by the sound of screaming teenage girls at an airport in New York City. Some British group named The Beatles was invading American shores. Their music brought along other Brits who stole her heart and freed her from some of that grief. Her musical taste was changing once again.

Other cultural changes influenced the songs that were sung from her lips and mirrored her teenage emotions. She absolutely adored soul: the Temptations, the Four Tops, Mary Wells, the Supremes. Her teenage dating woes and loss of first love were matched to the songs belted out by Miss Aretha Franklin, whom she revered and loved. The British songstress Dusty Springfield also sang for her.

During her late teen years, America was taking another turn into war protests, hippies, psychedelics which changed the music scene…but none of that was for her. She gravitated to the raspy, bluesy voice and emotional style of Janis Joplin. She grooved on Creedence Clearwater Revival, Three Dog Night, and Chicago Transit Authority (later name changed to Chicago).

Now 50-60 years later, she has an iPod. What music is on her playlist, and whose songs invite her to sing and dance with them today? Of course, her beloved artists from her girlhood!

“Call me a relic…call me what you will…say I’m old-fashioned…say I’m over the hill…today’s music ain’t got the same soul…I like that old time rock’n’roll.”                               ~Bob Seger

 

 

 

She would not keep a diary about the trip as she could not read nor write. She would not leave behind parents with tears running down their cheeks when she departed as she was an orphan. She would not daydream about returning to this village one day as she was never going back. It was spring 1906, and she was walking to a train station. That train would lead her to a ship. That ship would lead her to her brother and to her new home in America.

There would be four girls from her Polish village who would be traveling together. She was named Anna, and her three girl friends all had the first name of Franciszka. One man named Jan, age 23, traveled with them. The girls claimed to be 16 years old, but Anna was actually 14 years old. Who had paid the $10 each for their tickets? Had Anna’s older brother Antoni sent it to her from America?

From their village, the quintet traveled to a train station to head for Trieste, Italy. They carried their belongings. Perhaps, they walked the part of the way to the station. Perhaps, they went by wagon. Perhaps… How many days were they on the road, so to speak? Train schedules did not coordinate with ship schedules so waiting and praying must have been part of their journey…there would be much waiting.

Once they arrived in Trieste, they would be subject to two weeks of medical and mental examinations…two weeks of observation…two weeks of waiting and praying. Shipping companies were required to look after their future passengers during that time. Meals could be bought along with bunk spaces for the nights. They would handle their money wisely. As part of their preparation, the shipping company would list each person on a manifest (list). Each would be asked 31 questions: sex, age, marital status, literacy, occupation, former residence, quality of physical condition, mother county and tongue, cost of ticket along with the name of the person who would meet them in America. My Anna stated that she was a labourer, and she was illiterate. She was listed as being in good physical condition.

On Monday, 30 April 1906, Anna and her friends boarded the S.S. Georgia to take their place in steerage. They would be crowded into unsanitary, foul-smelling, cramped, noisy quarters. Bunks provided little room on which to sleep. Food was distributed from large kettles. There was no privacy. The journey would take 25 days…25 days of waiting and praying. Did the girls talk among themselves to dispel each other’s homesickness and anxiety? Did they stay close together for protection and safety? My Anna, only 14 years old, must have clung to her beliefs in God to remain resilient.

On Thursday, May 24, 1906, she and her friends saw Lady Liberty in New York harbor for the first time. What this lady sacred to her? Did she cry knowing that she would soon see her older brother? Did she fear what lie ahead in the great halls of Ellis Island?

As the girls entered the great hall of Ellis Island, their ears would be bombarded by many voices and many languages. Many hands would examine and prod them. Many strangers would look into their eyes to determine if they could leave or be detained. Were their hearts pounding as they waited and prayed? Did they fear being separated from one another as they met family members?

At last, Anna would depart for the final part of her travels: her brother Antoni would claim her. She would be traveling with him to a strange place called Connecticut. For this time, her waiting and praying were over. What lie ahead for my dear Anna?

 

Anna Mroz would become my father’s mother and my grandmother. I have searched the 1910 census for evidence of her time spent with her older brother in Greenville, Connecticut, before her marriage. I have found no hint of her for that time period. I have searched immigration records and census records in looking for Antoni…no trace of him. No family members heard Anna speak about a brother or know of his contacting her. Perhaps…after waiting and praying…he will travel through time to me.

 

 

 

In January, 1941, President Franklin D. Roosevelt gave a State of the Union speech in which he enumerated four freedoms that complemented our Constitution. These four freedoms reminded all Americans that these ideals defined independence in different ways and on different levels. FDR reminded us that we have the inalienable rights to freedom of speech and expression, freedom of worship, freedom from want, and freedom from fear. Later that year, America and her citizens were tested to safeguard those freedoms for themselves and for the world…independence and its richness for all. Much earlier in our nation’s history, we had sought and obtained independence and freedom.

As we celebrate our country’s birth-day, let us remember and revere those members of our families who won us that independence. Some were born here…some came here…all gave every ounce of their beings so we could become the independent United States of America. Also, let us celebrate our four freedoms.

 

Black sheep, huh!? Are they referencing “dyed in the wool” black sheep…”bad to the bone” black sheep…or perhaps, “poor choices and indiscretions” black sheep? My family tree has every one of these varieties.

“Dyed in the wool” black sheep: Being a specie of this type depends on who is doing the judging. In this case, King James I of England is the judge of this case. Meet our defendant George Soule who is an indentured servant. He and his master are what are called Separatists. They do not wish to belong to the Church of England of which King James is the head. Loyal subjects of the realm must be loyal to this church. George and his master are not. In James’ humble regal opinion, these men are black sheep among the sheep he shepherds. When these Separatists/Puritans wish to come to the New World, James is most happy to be rid of them. So, this flock leaves the fold. George, who is my 9th great grandfather, will board the Mayflower in 1620. His descendants will populate New World with even more “dyed in the wool” black sheep Englishmen and women.

“Bad to the bone” black sheep: These bad boys are rebellious, disloyal, unfaithful. They will take up arms against their king, their motherland, their fellow English citizens…no matter the cost. If their King George III finds them guilty, they will die the traitor’s death of being hung. Their fortunes and lands will be denied their remaining families. How dare they turn against Great Britain and all she embodies? How can they be so ungrateful to the King’s good protection? Just who do they think they are? These anti-loyalists would be termed “patriots”. Joseph Story, Benjamin Dows, Ebenezer Newman, Thomas Newman, Conrad Rhodes, Joseph Boultenhouse, and John Nichols are my 4th and 5th great grandfathers who opposed the king during the American Revolution. Their descendants would fill the newborn nation with others who would also be rebellious. Are they too “bad to the bone”?

“Poor choices and indiscretions” black sheep: What was once a family story, related by my mother to me,  turned out to be a real life soap opera. The story went that our great aunt had run away with the parish priest. Researching the story, I found newspaper accounts in several Midwestern newspapers. She had! She stole her husband’s car and headed to her sister’s home in a metropolitan city. The priest was with her along with her 5 year old daughter. The husband went to the local police and asked to have a warrant for the priest’s arrest…the car was registered to him alone so the pair were guilty of auto theft among other crimes. Once captured after a high speed chase by the police in another state, the pair and child spent the night in jail. When the husband arrived, he reclaimed his wife and struck the priest. Later that year, the wife filed for divorce…the priest took off for parts unknown after failing to come to court for the trial. Some think he ran to Mexico…defrocked and disgraced.

No matter who the black sheep are…no matter what they did…no matter at all.

Naomi Ruth Stevens is the name this aunt and niece shared. They both came from pioneer stock and learned early to care for others. They both carved out names for themselves which would be based on their talents and characters.

The aunt of the duo was my great grandmother, Naomi Ruth Stevens Boultinghouse. She was born on a farm in Kill Creek Township, Osborne County, Kansas in 1875…just four years after her family settled under the auspices of the Homestead Act. Her parents were English emigrants who had migrated across this nation from New Jersey, Tennessee, and into the Sunflower State. Her father was a Civil War veteran of the Union Navy. Her mother was a talented seamstress. From them, she learned the virtues of hard work, perseverance, and resilience. At the age of 19, she married my great grandfather Lafayette Edward Boultinghouse and became a mother to four children. She was most dedicated to her family. She and her husband Lafe had a small farm for a few years, but farming was not to their liking. Together, they established a small general store and cafe. Friendliness was part of the service, and Naomi (nicknamed Mamie) enjoyed visiting with customers. She was noted as a master gardener and earned fame among

the locals for her roses and other flowers in her yards surrounding her home. People said that she could turn a mess into a masterpiece. She also enjoying taking pictures of her family, including her grandchildren. Toward the end of his life, she shared her home with her ailing father, William Henry Stevens. When she passed away in 1947, it was my parents’ wedding day. When her husband Lafe passed away in 1949, it was the day after my birth.

The other Naomi Ruth Stevens Lindley was born in Maricopa County, Arizona, in 1915..she is my first cousin. Her parents had migrated from Kansas, and she was their last born child. Not much is known to me about her. From 1942 to 1946, she was a first lieutenant in the U. S. Army Nurses Corps. She preciously had cared for others as a public health nurse so caring and nurturing were part of her spirit. Her pioneer spirit shown forth when she was willing to be a woman in the military. She met and married her husband John while serving her country. She lived until the age of 80 and is buried in a military cemetery.

Same name…same charisma…same fortitude…remarkable and remembered.

They never met, yet they are very important to me. They came from different worlds with one being a farmer and one being a steelworker. One had a long ago grandfather who came to the New World on the Mayflower in search of religious freedom. One sailed in steerage on a ship that went through Southampton, England, a few weeks before the Titanic…he was searching for freedom from hunger and want. If they had met, they would not have been able to communicate in the same language…one spoke American English and the other Polish. One lived on the plains of Kansas surrounded by wheat fields; the other lived in Philadelphia surrounded by tenements and factories. One had served in the Prussian army much as an act of fear of imprisonment. The other had served in the U.S. Army much as an act of patriotism. They did hold something in common: they raised children who knew the value of hard work and the importance of a faith in God.

These two men were my grandfathers. Gramps was my mother Merna Mae Storer’s father, and his name was Andrew Earl Storer. He married my Grammy in 1922 in Osborne County, Kansas. Dziadek was my father Edward Joseph Slabik’s father, and his name was Franciszek Slabik. He married my Babcia in 1914 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

No, they never met…at least not until they entered Eternity under the loving eyes of the Father.

 

 

Several mysteries shroud my second great grandparents’ story. One is the circumstances of their first meeting. Here he was Amos Howell Boultinghouse, farmer boy from Illinois. Here she was Maria Magdalina Kramer, French immigrant living in Manhattan, New York. In 1843, they were married when he was 25 years old, and she was 15 years old…a man, seasoned by hard work and survival, and a teenager, seasoned by lessons in a convent school. When I first met them, I wondered if she were a mail order bride. Now that would be a mystery to solve!

Then, I discovered that Amos had been in the U.S. Army when he enlisted at the age of 19. In perusing his records, I noted that he had been stationed at Fort Columbus, New York, at the time of the marriage.  This fort was the major defender of New York harbor. It was located about six miles from Manhattan. Yet how did they meet?

They were married in the Church of Saint Nicholas, the first German-speaking Roman Catholic Church in Manhattan by Father Gabriel Rumpler. Their marriage certificate was found among Amos’ Civil War pension records. I decided to do more investigation. If she was 15, who signed for her to marry? I had never found her parents’ names or immigration records. Would other facts come to light if the church archives were consulted?

Since this parish no longer exists, I did locate the church where its records are stored. The parish secretary told me that the records from 1843 were there. Because of their age, these could not be scanned…they could be transcribed if they were readable. (I prayed they could be read.) A few weeks later, the transcription arrived in the mail. Well, here comes the bride…Maria had lied about her age and stated she was 22 years old. Another discovery on the record was Amos’ surname…it is Boultinghouse, and it was recorded as Boardinghouse.

Going to the chapel, I discovered that Maria was not a mail order bride…she claimed to be seven years older…the two witnesses at the ceremony were other priests who resided in that parish. Time would bring Amos and Maria many hard decisions, many devastating losses, and, perhaps, many joys.

 

The mist places a veil over my head, and I cannot see ahead. Am I lost or just seeking? Will I find my way, or will I try to turn back to return from where I came? I am searching but can find nothing. Is it hopeless?

The mental picture of lost in the mist is what clouds my brain when I am looking for the answers to a genealogical puzzle…and it is not even in my family tree…it is about my husband’s third great grandparents.

Benjamin and Julianna Beeson Haffner were married on 21 December 1825 in Martinsburg, Berkeley County, Virginia. They would have six children, but only four would reach adulthood. During the Civil War, this part of Virginia would become part of the new state of West Virginia. Little is known of them. Benjamin was listed in the 1850 and 1860 Census as a plowmaker. In the 1850 Census, he declared that he was a pauper.

During the Civil War, Martinsburg stood in the midst of the Shenandoah Valley Campaign. General Thomas J. Jackson commandeered trains and tracks right in the city so Union forces could not ship soldiers and supplies. The trains were moved over land to Strasburg. There were turmoil and chaos surrounding the city and its citizens.

But what of Benjamin and Julianna? Did they survive the war? They completely disappear after that 1860 Census…as if vanishing in the mist. They can be traced to no final resting places. Some day, I want to see them coming toward me as they break through the mist, and the veil of separation is no more.