Showing posts with label Grandparents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grandparents. Show all posts

Monday, January 16, 2023

Deep Within My Genes: In My Grandmother's Kitchen

Today is my paternal grandmother’s birthday.  Depending on whether you believe her marriage certificate or her baptismal record, she would have been 114 or 112.  Both of my grandparents lied about their birthdates on their marriage license.  In a previous blog post, A Question of Age,  I covered this very subject. Spoiler alert, Grandpa had a good reason for his lie. Of Grandma’s lie, shoulder shrug, I have only unsatisfying speculation.  

My children were 9, 12 and 15 when my grandmother died.  I don’t think many children are lucky enough to have a relationship with a great grandmother, but my children had that privilege.  We still talk and chuckle about “grandma stories.” 

My grandmother was a good cook and an even better baker.  When she died, my mother found herself the recipient of a basket with Grandma’s recipes.  When my daughter married, I made a loose-leaf notebook for her entitled, “In My Grandmother’s Kitchen” and put together some of our favorite “Grandma Recipes.”  Since I have already written a birthday post about my Grandmother previously (My Grandmother, Anna),  I thought this time I would post recipes from the book. 
















These cookies were my personal favorite. (No, I really mean FAVORITE!)


















My daughter was partial to the Zucchini Bread.



The boys were partial to anything that contained sugar. 














The last two cookies in my grandmother’s handwriting.  


This is my Great Grandmother’s Pie Crust Recipe. 
























Nobody (at least in my family) practices the art of canning anymore.  I have not had these Mustard Pickles in close to 40 years, and my mouth is watering at the mere thought of them.  


























My grandmother was not the soft, cuddly kind of grandmother.  I don’t remember her ever hugging me or telling me that she loved me.  Yet, I always felt her love.  It came through in the tiniest of moments, the reams of advice (often unsolicited), the little things she did to lighten a single mother’s load, the sweet taste of a favorite cookie dropped off just when it was needed – that was my grandmother.

Happy Birthday, Grandma.  Your eldest granddaughter still misses you.

 

© 16 January 2023, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Thursday, October 2, 2008

I Read it in the News - Evidence of Collateral Damage



When people get divorced, whatever wonderful quality they first saw in each other, has long since vanished. What doesn’t vanish is their mutual offspring, something often overlooked by warring parties.

When my grandparents divorced, it was not pretty. 

My grandmother, a petite, spunky woman, and her ex Mother-in-law formed two separate camps. There were no prisoner exchanges, no mingling of combatants and both camps remained armed and on alert. The fact that the two women had never gotten along, guaranteed no one would be suing for peace. 

My grandfather, whom I have written about previously, died suddenly at the age of 39 from a burst appendix. My grandfather had been living in Toledo with his second wife, and four children. My grandmother, my dad and his sisters lived in Clyde. Nettie, the mother-in-law lived in Florida.

Nettie sent a notice to the Clyde newspaper giving the details of her adopted son’s death. The story goes that this was how my grandmother and her children heard about the death. I’m prepared to give Nettie a pass on that one, because I don’t know whether she had tried to contact grandma. Perhaps she had or perhaps Nettie figured letting the paper know was a good way to tell her former daughter-in-law and her grandchildren of the loss. 

However, what she did next seems particularly spiteful. The list of survivors given to the newspaper included the four children by the second marriage, but not one word was mentioned about the three older children who were living in Clyde. A week later, the following short notice appeared in the paper:

“Mrs. Anna X asks that we make a correction in the obituary notice of the late Walter X sent us last week by Mrs. Nettie X from Florida. Mrs. Anna X, says he is survived by three children by a first marriage, and 4 children by a second marriage.”

I can almost see my grandmother pulling herself up straight, and making the simple, direct correction. Nettie had landed a well-aimed blow at my grandmother. Maybe it was deserved, maybe not. I wonder, however, did she think about the collateral damage? Was the chance to stick the knife into my grandmother so irresistible that all other considerations were secondary? Fair or not, that one act defined, for me, Nettie’s character. And I found that character wanting.

Written for 57th Carnival of Genealogy - I Read it in the News

© 2 October 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

A Question of Age

This edition’s topic for the Carnival of Genealogy is age. I’ve been sitting here staring at my Family Tree Maker software, willing it to spit out the ancestor who wins in the longevity department. Sadly, I can no more bend the program to my will than I can use my mental powers to de-calorie Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. (And the world is a much sadder place for my failure.) 

So, I had settled on telling you about my great great grandfather John R. Hoy, who if he did not win the longevity award, came darn close, as he was 99 years, 8 months and 30 days old when he died. Other close but no cigar candidates for the award were my maternal grandmother, Katie Lynch Hoy, who lived to be 91 years, 5 months and 21 days old, and my paternal great grandfather, Leo Schrader who was 91 years and 9 days at the time of his death. The good news for me is that I have some lengthy-life genes swirling around in my genetic stew. 

However, as I was going through my tons of information, I came across the marriage certificate of my paternal grandparents, Walter Sloan and Anna Schrader, and it reminded me of another type of age issue which I already knew about but had forgotten. On June 20, 1930, my grandmother swore before the probate officer that as of January 16, 1930 she was 21 years of age and that her occupation was “seamstress.” My grandfather swore a similar oath – that he was 22 years of age on March 28, 1930 and that his occupation was “farming.” This was fine, except that BOTH of my grandparents had lied!

 

To be fair, in grandpa’s case, he probably didn’t know his actual birth date. Here, in the marriage license application, he gave it as March 28, 1908. On his death certificate, his birth date is listed as January 30, 1909. His actual date of birth was July 23, 1908. Why are there discrepancies? 

Grandpa’s mother died when he was not quite three. His father, Elmer, took Walter and his baby brother George to Lucas County, Ohio where Elmer’s brother Lawson lived. Three years later, Elmer himself was dead. There was nobody left to remember a little boy’s exact birthday. Six years later, at the age of 10, Grandpa shows up as the adopted son of William and Nettie Sloan in Clyde, Ohio. It’s sad to think that I know Grandpa’s exact birth date but he did not. 

Grandma’s lie, on the other hand, is down right puzzling. I had always assumed she did it so she would not need parental consent. But Anna was 19, and while not the 21 she claimed, it seems certain she would not have needed her parents to sign for her. As far as I can tell, she would have only needed this consent if she were below the age of 18. So why fib? If you knew my grandmother, you’d know she was always a sharp cookie, so there’s no doubt she knew how old she was. Did the clerk, misunderstand? Was she showing some kind of sympathetic support to my grandfather – since his correct date could not be recorded than neither would hers? The answer is I don’t know, but I would love to have been a little mouse sitting in the corner and listening to their answers that day.

Until Next Time – Happy Ancestral Digging!

© 15 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 


Tuesday, February 26, 2008

What Do You Call Your Grandparents?

Randy Seaver of Genea-Musings asked in a recent post “What did you call your grandparents? What did your children call their grandparents? What do your grandchildren call you?” (http://randysmusings.blogspot.com/2008/02/names-for-your-grandparents.html

I called my paternal grandmother and her husband, my step-grandfather, Gramma and Grampa Dick when I was talking about them and they were not there. Just Gramma and Grampa when we were in person. My paternal grandfather — we didn't talk about him as a child. 

My maternal grandmother — Gramma Hoy — even though her last name by the time I came along was Runion, she was always Gramma Hoy. My maternal grandfather — I was 10 when Grampa died. He was known as Grampa Hoy.

My own children followed the same custom using the Gramma and Grampa in front of a diminutive form of their grandparent's last name. When they were very young, they called their maternal grandfather, my dad, Papaw Sonie 

In our own grandchildren, the older ones call me Grandma Terry and their younger brother calls me Maw T-U. The older grandchildren call Al, Grandpa Al and the little one calls him Papa Al. They call their maternal great grandmother Me-maw and their maternal grandparents Maw and Paw. And for Randy's benefit, these are all Northwest Ohio families. 

So how about the rest of you? Is my family typical or do you have your own customs of what grandparents are called? 

Until Next Time — Happy Ancestral Digging! Note this post first published online, February 26, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 26 February 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Friday, January 4, 2008

Grandpa's Final Resting Place — Part Two

If you have worked on your own genealogy for any length of time, you know that tracking the females in the family create more challenges than tracking down the males. Marriage is the chief culprit here — every time a female marries, you have to start anew picking up the trail. So, trying to find my father's half sisters seemed daunting. As I tried to formulate a strategy, I decided since the sexton had given me the dates of death of grandpa's second wife and my half-uncle, I would once again request obituaries to see if I could pick up further clues. My uncle's obituary gave me the clues I needed to find one of the aunts.

Here, in the interest of protecting the privacy of both of my half-aunts, I am going to be purposely vague. I can tell you that the clue was sufficient enough for me, with some specialized help, to make a few calls to track down a phone number for the older of the two aunts. Again, each new nugget of information was passed along to my dad, and together we would decide the next step. 

As it turned out, this aunt had lived in different parts of the U.S. but at that very moment was living in Toledo and not far from where we now knew grandpa was buried. What to do? Dad and I discussed at length whether or not we should initiate contact. After all, we didn't know if dad's half sister knew that she had older half siblings. We didn't want her to think we wanted anything from her but the communication of one half sibling to another, no strings attached. It was decided that I would make contact with her, explain the situation, and give her information about my dad, along with his phone number and address. She could decide if she wanted to pursue communication with him.

On a Sunday night in November of 1995, I made the call. It took me several attempts at dialing before I finally had the courage to complete the phone call. I had a few weeks to get my head wrapped around the idea of having a half-aunt. Considering the fact that my call came without any warning to her, my newfound aunt handled the phone call extremely well. I told her who I was, and that I was calling on behalf of my father, who was interested in connecting with her. I gave her bits and pieces of dad's life, partly because I wanted to give her the sense of what a wonderful person my dad is, and partly to alleviate any concern by her that her newfound relatives had ulterior motives for the sudden communication. Then I let her know that this was the only contact we would be initiating with her, and that if she wanted to get in touch with dad, it was completely at her discretion. I gave her dad's name, phone number and address and let her know that he would be taking an extended vacation after the first of the year, and wouldn't be back until late Spring. 

I don't remember how long a period of time went by, it could have been weeks. But one evening dad came over to my house excited because he and his half sister had connected. The following year, when my parents came back to Ohio, the three of us went to meet his sister. When she opened the door, I knew instantly it was my half aunt. She reminded me of one of my dad's sisters. As a child, I adored this particular aunt, and seeing the resemblance made me feel instantly at ease with dad's “new” sister. 

We talked at length, shared stories and pictures. Her memories of her father were warm and nice, and she gave us a mental picture of grandpa that we had not been blessed with previously. The visit was wonderful. At the end, my new aunt pointed us to the cemetery and gave the three of us a general idea of where to look for grandpa's grave. We fanned out looking for the tombstone, and quite a bit of time passed before I reached down and brushed away the grass clippings form the top of one of the marker's. There, amid stray bits of grass, was my grandfather's name. 

It had taken our branch of the family 50 years, but that day we finally paid our respects to grandpa. My dad and his half sister still are in contact. They are the only two of Grandpa's twin families that are in touch.

As for my grandfather, I think that there are evil individuals and I think there are saints. My grandfather, like most of us, lived in the gray area between. He lived his life the best that he could, given the hand he was dealt. Sometimes he made mistakes and sometimes he got it just right. He chose two good, strong women to mother and raise his children, and the world is a little bit better because he did. Finding Grandpa's final resting place and meeting an unknown aunt were my “greatest genealogical finds ever” and it happened BG (before genealogy). 

Until Next Time — Happy Ancestral Digging! 

Note this post first published online, January 4, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 4 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplanned, Teresa L. Snyder 

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Grandpa's Final Resting Place — Part One

(Note: Craig Manson of “Geneablogie” wrote a post on December 31 titled, “The Greatest Genealogical Find Ever …,” which you can read at his new blog Web site. The link for the post is http://blog.geneablogie.net/2007/12/greatest-genealogical-find-ever.html. (My real wish for 2008 would be that I could use hyperlinks like everybody else!) He challenged his readers with the question, “What is your version of the greatest genealogical find ever?” Below is part one of my answer.) 

My grandfather died of a burst appendix at the age of 36. My dad was 13 at the time, and because his parents went through a very miserable divorce, my dad hadn't seen or talked to his father for a great many years. Off and on, the subject of where grandpa was buried would come up. We knew he had been living in Toledo at the time of his death, and we had made half-hearted attempts to locate his grave without success. At the time, November 1995 — five years BG (before genealogy), I knew nothing about death certificates — as for instance, they often contain the name of the cemetery where the deceased is buried. But I did know that obituaries sometimes included burial information. 

So, I called the information line at the Toledo Lucas County Library and explained that I was searching for the obituary of my grandfather. After being transferred to the correct department, they told me they did have my grandfather's obituary and for a small fee, they would fax it to our own Birchard Public Library. When I got the call that the obituary had been faxed, I drove immediately to Birchard Library. 

Unfortunately, it did not give the name of the cemetery where grandpa was buried. Had I been more experienced, I would have realized that the name of the funeral parlor, which the obituary did provide, offered another avenue of information. However, I remembered the story that grandpa had remarried and had four children with his second wife, and that one of the children had sadly died an accidental death. I knew the approximate year, but I did not have his name. I called the Toledo Lucas County Library once again. They were reluctant at first to help me with so little information to go on, so I explained what I was trying to do, and the very nice woman on the other end of the line agreed to help me. This unknown angel found the correct obituary and once again faxed it to Birchard Public Library. 

 This time the cemetery was listed. I reasoned that there was a good probability that the boy and the father would have been buried in the same cemetery. Also included in the obituary were the names of my Dad's half brothers and sisters. In addition to the boy who was deceased, there was one more brother and two sisters. I knew these other siblings existed, but somehow seeing their names, they were suddenly real people to me. 

Another idea was beginning to take shape. What if I could find one of these half siblings? I called my Dad, telling him what I had found. I told him I would be calling the cemetery to see if they had his father listed. I also told him the names of his half siblings, just to test the waters. I didn't want to do anything my father didn't feel comfortable with, and I didn't want to get any of his hopes up, so I said nothing about my idea of possibly looking for one or more of his half siblings . He seemed interested in knowing his half siblings’ names. He repeated the names back to me to be sure he had the names correct and then gave me his blessing to call the cemetery to see if I could find his dad's grave. 

 I was ecstatic when the sexton said he indeed had my grandfather's grave listed. Success. Then I asked if there were any other individuals buried there with the same last name — he checked. In addition to the young boy I knew had died, he read off the name of my grandfather's second wife. This was sad, but not unexpected. Then he read off the name of my dad's other half brother. I can't begin to explain the sorrow that engulfed me when I heard the name of the second half brother. Though his death had occurred eight years earlier, for me his death occurred that day. How can you feel grief for someone you didn't know existed? I don't know, but my sorrow was real and so were my tears. I cried for myself. I cried for my father. And I cried for both uncles I had never known.

 I called to tell my dad what I had found. I could tell he too was affected by the news of his half brother's death. I asked my dad how he felt about me trying to find one or more of his half sisters. I told him I would keep him informed every step of the way, and that I wouldn't make any decisions on how to proceed without getting his permission. He gave me the green light to proceed, and I hung up the phone wondering what I should do next. 

 Tomorrow: Part 2 of “Grandpa's Final Resting Place.” Until Next Time — Happy Ancestral Digging! Note this post first published online, January 3, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 3 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 



Terry

Terry

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