22 November 2016

Dear Keith,
Friends together for over 50 years, your mama and I had many girlhood and teenage adventures and misadventures. We were the original Laverne and Shirley. Yep, that was us.

Did you ever wonder how your mom got the longstanding nickname of “Cleo”? Did you know she pinned it on herself? Let me tell you about how that came about…

In 1963, we were just entering adolescence. The neighborhood gang of guys and gals would go to the movies every week. James Bond movies were tops on our list. There were also movies that our parents said we could not go to…too adult…like the movie “Tom Jones” was on the forbidden list. Also on the list was Cleopatra, starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. Liz and Dick had provided the world with a paparazzi view of the whole love affair scandal. So our parents axed that one off the list.

That summer with that movie and Liz Taylor in mind, your mom stated that she was just as attractive as Cleopatra…that Cleo had nothing on her…why, just look around at her loyal followers. So, Cathy became Cleo. She insisted that was her name, and it stuck. Fondly, I called her by that name for the rest of her life as did others. (By the way, back in those days, kids often had nicknames with quite different birth names. One never knew someone’s real name until their graduation picture appeared in their senior yearbook.)

In sharing memories with you of your mom, I want you to realize that she was someone beyond being your mom. She was a crazy teenaged girl who loved her friends. She was a woman who cherished her friends forever. Then after growing up, she became a mother who was eternally proud of her three children. And so, I remember my best friend Cleo.

Love always,
MaryAnne

Note: Cathy Irene Covert and I were best buds who always stayed in contact and visited one another even after I moved to Pennsylvania at the age of 15. We told stories together…we laughed over our antics and misadventures. We talked about the day we would be old ladies, sitting on the porch in rockers retelling those stories. That day never came…I know Cleo is waiting in heaven so we can finally do that.

His Story:
Cowboy dreams…Wild West…broncos…gunslingers on the street: that was my young childhood world. A Christmas gift of an outfit that would take me through many adventures along with my neighborhood sidekicks and fellow mavericks. We had shootouts and hideouts. We drank Kool Aid to quench our thirst…Kool Aid served up by favorite gal, my mom. We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to slake our hunger. Patrolling the streets, we made sure our homes were safe. Favorite dogs rode by our sides. We wanted to emulate our favorite Western hero, Gene Autry. It was all in the day’s work of a cowboy.

~Dan Haffner
Waynesboro, Franklin County, Pennsylvania
Remembering 1952

Her story:
Cowgirl dreams…Wild West…fast horses (tricycles)…guts and courage: that was my young childhood world. A birthday gift of an outfit that would fuel my imagination and play. I rode with the best of them in our neighborhood. Desperadoes, we took the sidewalks as our own trails to blaze. From sunup to sundown, we heehawed and “Hi yo, Silver, away” as a tribute to our hero, The Lone Ranger. It was all in the day’s work of a cowgirl.

~MaryAnne Slabik
Falls Church, Independent City, Virginia
Remembering 1955

Note: These pictures are among the childhood memories of my husband Daniel and myself. We would ride the trails of love and marriage for 50 years. We await our grand trail ride and reunion in the skies of Heaven.

In the very, very beginning, she was not sure how to do this. She was not sure she could figure it all out. Even starting perplexed her. Where to start? How to start? What questions were there that needed answers?

In the very, very beginning, she had little clues to carry her. Just a few names needed to be checked out. Where would they lead her, those names? How would she figure out how to organize all that data about those names? Who were those names to her?

In the very, very beginning, she researched guidelines. She searched for others who had gone before her and conquered the steps and the organization. She studied their examples. She Goggled names and places while she gathered life stories. She made folders and files. How was she to create a structure to put this all together? Who could really help her? What lessons needed learning?

In the very, very beginning, she jumped in with both feet…an observation by her husband Daniel. She spent evenings, weekends, vacations looking for complete strangers who had blood connections to her. She devoted herself to this journey, this adventure, this birth… the birth of a new genealogist, the evolution of constructing a family tree, the advent of a lifetime of searching.

In the very, very beginning, it was I who did this. It was I who jumped in with both feet. It was I who became a genealogist. And so I remain these 20 years later.

1 December 1853 New Albin, Allamakee County, Iowa

Dearest Mother,
Sending our love to you this Christmas. In fact, I hope this reaches you in time to wish you the best of greetings.

As I write, baby Charlie sleeps beside me. He is all of nine months now. So sweet, so little. I spend most of my days caring for him as it is too snowy and windy to be outside. Andrew is busy outside tending the livestock and caring for the farm. I know he is daydreaming of where we will go next…that man has wanderlust in his soul.

Mother, I have made a resolution for myself. It is this: wherever my husband Andrew wants to venture next, baby Charlie and I will follow without complaint. It has been hard on us to move across the prairies to the next territory. We just made it here to Iowa. Now he talks of moving on to Minnesota. We have been married for less than 2 years and have moved twice.

I further resolve that one day the move will be our last one. I resolve we will build a real home, on a real farm, and live a real life in an established place. I resolve I will gather my children around me and teach them the ways of the Lord.

So, Mother, I wish you a Christmas filled with knowing that we love you and miss you all.

Lovingly,
Your daughter Mary Etta

Note: Mary Etta (Soule) Storer was my second great grandmother. After this date, she and Andrew and their children would move three more times in 22 years. They would raise nine children. In the year 1875, they finally made their permanent home in Osborne County, Kansas. Here they built a real home on a real farm and became successful sheep farmers.

31 August 1900 Bloomington, Osborne County, Kansas

Dearest Father and Mother,
In just a few days, Wash and I are going to do something we have been considering for some time. We feel our little community needs this. The people here need resting places for their beloved departed. We are selling 5 acres of our farmland to the Bloomington Cemetery Association. We will receive $15.

Even though it has not been an official burial grounds, several have been placed at rest. One soul, that breaks my mother-heart, is young Byon Prentess. He was only 11 years old who was laid to rest here almost 30 years ago. Another is Delbert Tunison who was murdered by his brother-in-law over two horses. His grave is unmarked. There is a Civil War veteran who lies here in another unmarked grave…his name is Amos Howell Boultinghouse.

My husband Wash and I are not sure how this started with this acreage becoming a burial ground. None of our kin are buried here. We feel that selling it to the Cemetery Association is fitting and right. We have placed a fence around part of the grounds and graves.

May the souls entrusted to this earth rise in peace and see the face of God.

Lovingly,
Your daughter Almina

Note: My great grandparents, Washington I and Sarah Almina (Nickel) Storer, sold the land on 1 September 1900 to the Bloomington Cemetery Association. Ironically, they are not buried there as they are at rest in the Osborne City Cemetery. There is a historic marker at the cemetery.

8 December 1955 Alton, Osborne County, Kansas

Being the baby of the family, I grew up with two sisters and a brother. Through the years, they had moved on to other places and homes. Letters flew back and forth from time to time. Phone calls to the farm came only if there were a family emergency. So, I discovered two friends I thought of as sisters. Boy, oh boy, did they have different personalities.

One of those gals was Margaret Simpson, who lived a few farms over. A bit younger than I, she was the wife and mother of two sons. She worked hard on that farm: taking care of the chicken coop, growing vegetables in her patch, raising her boys, and other jobs. At harvest time, there was always the chore of fixing the hands a huge hot noon meal. She loved to socialize so if I had time to run to town and stop at her place on the way home, she was there to greet me with a cup of coffee. She was president of the Homemakers Club and loved to organize the events. She was always calm in any emergency.

The other gal was Faye Simpson, who just happened to be Margaret’s sister-in-law. She lived a few farms over in the opposite direction. She loved doing man’s work on the farm and was always dressed in plaid shirts and overalls. Along with her husband, she loved raising horses. She and her husband would travel to Nebraska, Colorado, and Wyoming looking for Appaloosas for sale. She could make berry pies like no one else. Politics was her thing…not like the other women…she wrote letters to the editor of the newspaper…the topic was often about taxes. She was a firebrand of a woman.

When all of us wanted to have a leisurely afternoon, we spent it with other 25 members of the Busy Bee Club. We made friendship quilts, crocheted, knitted. We lunched and (hate to say it) gossiped about the news in the town. Underneath it all, I loved these two like sisters.

~Isabella Mary Boultinghouse Storer

Note: Isabella is my maternal grandmother. I had met Margaret and Faye all those years ago. I loved visiting their farms and riding their horses. I have one of the friendship quilts made by them in 1930.

1 December 1924 Bloomington, Osborne County, Kansas

Savoring the aroma of the coffee beans, I placed them in the grinder. Making that first coffee pot of the day has become such a ritual to me. As the owner of Mamie’s Cafe, I want to greet each day’s guests with strong cups of coffee. My customers like to check my cookie jar for fresh baked sugar cookies to complement their coffee. Often, my husband Lafe will wander in from outside chores to grab a mug. With the post office next door, the postmaster comes over for a cup to take back to his office. I carry a small stock of groceries, and often children will stop by to get supplies for their mothers. When the coffee is on the stove, Mamie’s is open.

~Naomi Ruth (Stevens) Boultinghouse
aka Mamie

1 October 1930 Alton, Osborne County, Kansas
Taking the coffee grinder off the shelf, I am always reminded of my mother Naomi. She gifted me with the grinder so I would be able to get a coffee pot going in the morning. Mornings on the farm get started early…getting up with the chickens I say. My husband Andrew likes to have a cup before heading out to the barn. He says it gets him oiled up so he can get all his work done. Shortly, he will be back to eat his breakfast and have another cup before he heads out on his horse to check the pastures. Soon, I will awaken my two small daughters Merna Mae (age 5) and Mary Lee (age 1). A farmer’s wife is never done with her work.

~Isabella Mary (Boultinghouse) Storer

1 October 1989 Greencastle, Franklin County, Pennsylvania
It was difficult breaking up Mother’s housekeeping goods as she was moving to a retirement home. We packed many things to go to auction. The treasures my sister Mary Lee and I divided up between us would not resemble heirlooms to some folks. Those treasures were items that touched the hands of our grandmother and mother…just everyday kitchen items. We picked items from cupboards, cabinets, and hutches. One of the items I chose was Grandma B’s coffee grinder. She had gifted it long ago to my mother, her daughter. I brought it back from Kansas…I knew my daughter MaryAnne would want it. My daughter is the family history storyteller, and she treasures these props. Let’s see how she uses it.
~Merna Mae (Storer) Slabik

1 December 2024 Waynesboro, Franklin County, Pennsylvania
Carefully, I had placed the coffee grinder above my kitchen cabinets. I had made a vignette with the grinder and a Golden West coffee can along with a wooden rooster and a chicken lamp. They are all symbols of my family: my Great Grandma B’s cafe, my Grandmother Storer’s chicken coop, my mother’s folk art, and my childhood wish of becoming a cowgirl. And so those story prompts inspire me…
~MaryAnne (Slabik) Haffner

A simple coffee grinder from a small town in Kansas carries with it a potload of memories and stories.

Who would be the winner of the genealogy research lottery today? Just a random choice…just a random number taken from the ship’s manifest…for the Georgia leaving Trieste, Italy, on 30 April 1906. She was leaving for America with my grandmother, a girl from her village.

Her name was Franciszka Fuss. She was the same age of 16, or so she had reported . She, too, had paid for her passage and had $10 hidden in her clothing. She was headed for Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She would be met at Ellis Island by her brother-in-law. Meanwhile, the voyage would take three weeks. What did this new beginning mean to her? Who would discover her true story?

Clues from records were gathered…really just basic facts. In 1910, she married Josef Pacian. She was 17 years old…she had adjusted her age when she applied for passage to America. (She was only 13 when she came alone to America.) Josef was from the same village in Poland as she. By 1920, the couple had moved from Philadelphia to Bucks County, Pennsylvania where they were farmers. The couple had two children, Anthony and Elizabeth. By 1930, she was a naturalized citizen. One more daughter, Amelia, was added to the family. By 1940, Franciszka and Josef continued to farm, but Josef also worked for a engineering firm in Philadelphia. By 1950, two of their adult children remained at home…son Anthony engaged in farming while Amelia was a seamstress in a hosiery factory. In August, 1968, Franciszka died of heart disease. Her husband and children survived her.

Little bread crumbs of facts are scattered for genealogy detectives’ discoveries. What is not found are the little details of Franciszka’s workings of her heart and soul. Her thoughts, her memories, her real story are lost to the genealogist detective who looks for random clues.

3 May 1871 Somewhere crossing the Missouri prairies

Jostled by the movement of the wagon, I daydream to set my imaginations and memories loose. My husband insisted that I ride and not walk today as I am extremely tired. I am enjoying the colorful spring wildflowers along the way. A few more weeks and then new life will come. Lord, let me make it to our final destination.

I dreamed of another journey more than 30 years ago. As a young girl, I left the Alsace region of France with arrival in a place called New York. So many unknowns…such storms at sea to jostle my whole being…seasickness grabbed me. To steady myself, I touched the colorful silk threads in my sewing kit as I thought of the convent school I would attend. There I will learn to make exquisite embroidery pieces. I had prayed…Lord, let me make it to my final destination.

I am brought back to the present reality, but I soon skip to colorful memories of my early marriage years on a farm in Illinois. Surrounded by our children and a land that I fell in love with, I imagine a kaleidoscope of things remembered. I am jostled by the images of those people and times. I bring myself back to the now and wonder about this new land where we will live. Lord, let us make it to our final destination.

As I sit back on the wagon seat, I hold on and balance myself. I feel life moving inside me as I am reminded that this babe will soon be here. I look across the horizon at colorful skies that foretell a future. Lord, let everyone make it to our final destination. Amen.

~Mary Magdalina Kraemer

Note: Mary was my second great grandmother, who was married to Amos Howell Boultinghouse. After the Civil War, they left their older children on their farm in Dupage County, Illinois. The remainder of the family moved to Osborne County, Kansas in 1871. Mary spoke French as her primary language and struggled with reading and writing English. Why the family left their Illinois home to migrate to Kansas is unknown.

24 August 1852 Watertown, Jefferson County, Wisconsin

Dearest sister Elizabeth,
I pen this letter to tell you of my marriage to Andrew Storer. Mr. Storer is the boss of the brickyard where our brothers work. Mother and I helped him out for a time there when we first settled here. Andrew’s first wife died in childbirth so he needed a wife to manage the house and yard.

This land is challenging with its harshness. For a time, Mother and I were the only women settlers in the county. Here on this farm, we are isolated. Indians camp on the lands next to us, but they have never bothered us. Wolves howl at night. I am here alone during the day…a shotgun rests by the door. Some days, Mother comes and spends the day with me to help me with the garden and animals. Soon a baby will be joining our family.

This farm is challenging with its harshness. Ever since we left New York after the death of Father, I have yearned for a home of my own…some place to settle. The log cabin is cold and severe. Mother reminds me that it needs a woman’s touch…but how? The garden is overrun with weeds and yields little. I feel as if I am always at the beginning of something, some place, some time that never gets finished. God, give me the strength to push on and do.

This soul searching is challenging with its harshness. At times, I feel so isolated. I yearn to fill my evenings with books to read, with yarn to knit, with the company of others with whom I can converse. Mother reminds me that I am an adult woman of 19…time for me to take my lead.

I am asking you, dearest sister, to pray for me and my Andrew. We only knew each other for a few months before we wed, and I am soon to be a mother. I need heavenly guidance as I make my way for my family. Pray for me as I do for you.

Your loving sister,
Mary Etta

Note: Mary Etta Soule was my second great grandmother. In July, 1852, she married Andrew Storer. After Wisconsin, they would move on to the Minnesota Territory, Iowa, and finally make a home in Kansas. She was ready to conquer the days of challenges, troubles, and trials. She was home at last.