How about it, AncestryDNA, wanna be my hero?

Catherine Good Lynch, pictured above, is a potential X DNA donor of mine.  In fact, thanks to AncestryDNA, Gedmatch.com, and the testing of another individual at 23 and Me, whose raw data like mine and my mother’s was added to Gedmatch, I know that my mother inherited approximately 34 cM of her XDNA from Catherine.  (My brother and I inherited a smidge less at 33.9 cM from Catherine through my mom.)

With a half million individuals who have taken the test at AncestryDNA this could easily have been a win for Ancestry’s DNA program.  But alas, it is not.  The DNA test could have been taken with another company (say FamilyTree DNA or 23 and Me), so Ancestry’s part in this is limited to providing accurate test results, and, after much pressure of the genetic genealogical community, providing me with the opportunity to download the raw data from the tests.

Instead, the victory lap belongs to Gedmatch creators John Olson and Curtis Rogers, the administrator of the matching individual’s test, and me.

Below is what the match looks like using Gedmatch’s X DNA “One to One” Comparison Tool.  

 
 

For those of you a little foggy on how XDNA is inherited, a little basic science.  Women inherit two segments of XDNA, one segment from their mother and one segment from their father.  When they pass the 1/2 of their XDNA onto their offspring, they pass a recombined version.  One child, for example, could get 10% from the mother’s father and 90% from the mother’s mother, while another child could get 50% from the mother’s father and 50% from mother’s mother, or any combination thereof. 

Father’s on the other hand, only have one XDNA segment to give (because instead of two X Chromosomes, they have that pesky Y chromosome.) When a father’s DNA is passed onto his child, he can give either an X chromosome OR a Y chromosome.  If he gives the X chromosome, he finds himself the proud parent of a little girl. If, on the other hand, he gives the Y chromosome, he welcomes a bouncing baby boy into the family. 

This means two things:

1.        A father cannot be an X DNA donor to his sons.

2.       The X chromosome that he inherited from his mother is passed on virtually intact (unless of course there is a mutation of some sort) to his daughters.   For daughters, this means even if they don’t have access to their father’s DNA, they do have an exact copy of his XDNA, a copy that hasn’t been recombined.

 

Below is the path this particular segment took in my branch of the family.

1.       Catherine Good Lynch would have gotten the segment from one or both of her parents, Magdalena Click Good and Joseph Good.

Catherine Good Lynch

 

 

2.       Catherine in turn passed this segment to her son, John Perry Lynch.

3.       John Perry Lynch passed the segment on to his daughter, Katheryne, my grandmother.

John Perry Lynch

 

4.       Katheryne passed the segment onto my mother.

My grandmother, Katheryne

 

5.       My mother passed almost the entire segment (33.9 of the 34 cM) to at least two of her children, my brother and me.

Mom

 

In my mother’s case, we can document that the segment came from her great grandmother.  In the case of mother’s match, the journey was longer.  The match received the segment from a sister of Catherine’s, who happened to be the match’s Great great great grandmother.

What is both exciting and frustrating is that this scientific tidbit has the potential to give proof of the identity of either Magdalena Click’s mother (purported to be Elizabeth Bauserman) or Joseph Good’s mother (purported to be Susannah Kaufmann).  I haven’t been able, thus far, to find documentation proving anything but that researchers have the women’s first names listed correctly.  The idea that somewhere within AncestryDNA’s half a million DNA testers may be the one person whose DNA could corroborate the identity of either of these women (and potentially their parents!) is so brightly dazzling that it makes my head spin.

So how about it AncestryDNA. Wanna be my hero?  Help me break through those brick walls by giving me the tools to find my needle in a haystack.

© 30 September 2014, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

 

Looking for Catherine

When I first saw her picture that summer of 2000, I admit I was not the tiniest bit interested. There was no sense of recognition, no feeling of familial kinship, just mild amusement at my mother’s latest passion, and maybe a sense of gratitude that I had not inherited the looks of the woman in the picture. I confess, now, to being a little embarrassed by my own shallow arrogance.

Still, there must have been something in that picture that reached out to me, because like a bag of forbidden Halloween candy, I kept stealing back to take a peek, picking up pieces of information here and there, studying them intently, looking for clues, trying to discover who Catherine Good Lynch really was.

 I discovered that she had married George Washington Lynch in Seneca County, Ohio on December 17, 1852. I learned that the family had moved to Crawford County, Illinois in 1874, before moving to what was then Greer County, Texas. (A boundary change later would put the county in Oklahoma.) Catherine and George had run a general store in Mangum, Oklahoma. She was the mother of four children, her second eldest, a son, was my great grandfather. I learned that she had died of typhoid fever in November of 1900, and was buried at Riverside Cemetery in Mangum.

 But knowing these few details was not enough. I wondered, who were her parents? Did she have siblings? 

 Through the census, I discovered three Catherine Goods in Seneca County. None was the correct age, but they were close enough to make me take a second look. Eventually I settled on Catherine Good, the daughter of Joseph Good. I narrowed it to this Catherine because of the family’s close proximity to the Lynch family farm. When I had finally discovered Catherine living in Crawford County, Illinois in 1880, I found that both of her parents had birthplaces in Virginia, and only Joseph’s daughter, Catherine fit the bill. But how was I to prove it? 

 Joseph had not made out a will, but he did have an estate. It was my first look at probate records, and while the clerks in Seneca County were helpful, there was nothing in the microfilmed papers to suggest a relationship between Joseph and Catherine. I began to collect names of other Goods who might be siblings, then reading the obituaries of these “maybe siblings” to see what I could find. I came up empty handed. Finally, one night as I drifted off to sleep, I thought, “What happened to the land?” For Joseph, who was a farmer, had farmed the land right up until his death in 1873. 

The probate record, mentioned nothing about land. By chance, I had made an Internet connection with a woman who did title searches in Seneca County. I posed the question to her in an email. She wrote back asking me for details of the land Joseph had owned. She told me she would take a look.

 Finally, one day, she wrote me that she had found the land, and noticed that there was a court case attached to it. This made her curious, and she said that she would see what she could find. A few days later, she called to tell me she had the case file, but in looking at a list of the heirs, Catherine was not mentioned. I was crushed. I had been so sure that Joseph Good was Catherine’s father. About 20 minutes later, she called back and said she had found “something.” She would not say what, but asked if I could meet her at her house later in the week. Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “Sure.”

 On arriving at her home a few days later, she handed me a sheet of paper. On the top it read, “Statement and testimony of Susannah Miller.” It began as follows: “My name is Susannah Miller. I am one of the defendants herein and oldest daughter of Joseph Good, deceased. I was present when my father and my brother in law, Willis Morse, came to my house in Cass County, Michigan where I now live in September 1871 and heard my father give directions to said Morse in writing into a book he had for that purpose, the amounts he (my father) had paid on advancement to his children respectively and in number the amounts and items, and some of which I know to have been advanced viz: “ 

Susannah’s deposition went on to list her siblings, the children of Joseph, and the amount of money he had advanced to each child. The fifth name on the list, made my heart race. “To my sister Catherine Lynch $50.00.” Catherine had not been listed as an heir, having sold her share of the estate to a nephew-in-law, Dennis Blue before moving west. Dennis, anxious to get his share of the estate, which had been sold at a sheriff’s sale, was getting set to close the deal when Susannah and two other siblings, brought suit to halt the proceedings, thus the reason for Susannah’s deposition. 

 It had taken three years of tracking down leads, and in the end, my happy dance resulted from a generous, knowledgeable friend, a court case, and a $50 debt. It was as simple and as complicated as that. 

 Until Next Time – Happy Ancestral Digging!

Written for the 65th Carnival of Genealogy - The Happy Dance. The Joy of Genealogy

© 1 February 2009, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Etched in Stone

Just because something is etched in stone, doesn’t mean that it is, well, “etched in stone.” Take for example the case of the Good Family Marker. On August 15 1979, the marker was unveiled at the Flat Rock Church of the Brethren’s Homecoming Sunday service. The church, located in Forestville, Virginia, included the unveiling ceremony in its program that Sunday morning. The marker read:

In Loving Memory of William Good 1737 – 1806 And Wife Maria Snavely 1740 -1831 Early Pioneers of the Tunker Brethren in Virginia And Descendents. Erected by William Conrad Good And Other Descendents 1978

A lovely sentiment to be sure, but unfortunately the death date for Maria was wrong. Maria’s grave marker, which was located on the original family farm, was still legible when it was read by D. Saylor Good, a descendent, on December 29, 1903 The marker was in inscribed in German. “Hier Ruht Marie Guth. in Sie ist Gestorben Augst den 10, 1822. Ald 82 Jahr 1 Monat 6 Tag.“ Roughly translated it said, “Here lies Marie Guth, Died August 10, 1822. Age 82 Years, 1 Month and 6 Days.” The death date is confirmed by a will that was proved October 7, 1822 for Mary Good, which can be found in the Shenandoah County Will Book M, Page 94. 

The story, which was told by June Hulvey in her book, “The William Good Family,” does not say how the error came to be, but clearly a descendent reading the marker and going no further, would come away with an incorrect death date for Maria. That incorrect death date might lead someone to overlook Maria’s will. It might lead to confusion on just who Maria’s children were, and in effect, it might change the history of a family. 

Mistakes happen on markers. They happen in obituaries. And they even happen on death records. Whenever possible, it is always good to keep digging, even after you have found your prize, just to confirm the accuracy of your find. The marker, which originally rested on the property of the Flat Rock Church, was moved to the Flat Rock Cemetery about a half mile away.

Flat Rock Church of the Brethren Flat Rock Cemetery

That is where the fifth Great Granddaughter of William and Maria Good found it, when she went looking for it in 2005. Incorrectly inscribed or not, it was still a thrill to find this monument of my family’s heritage.

Until Next Time – Happy Ancestral Digging!

Hulvey, Velma June Good. The William Good Family, Revised Edition (Stephens City, Va., Commercial Press Inc.), 1996

.© 29 January 2009, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

The Importance of U (A Part of the 7 Days, 7 Requests Series)

On my desk, I have a sticky note that has two words written on it. The words are “fried” and “friend.” Notice that the two words have much in common. In fact, except for one additional letter, an “n,” the two words are identical. But oh, what a difference that “n” makes. You would never mistakenly interchange the words in a sentence as in, “You are my best fried" or "I love friend chicken.” The addition or omission of the “n” is important. 

So when I went looking for the grave of my great great grandfather Edward L. Jacobus, and found instead the grave of Edward L. Jacobs, I believed it should be corrected. Jacobs was not Jacobus. The missing “u” mattered.

Edward Jacobus enlisted for service August 2, 1862 in Henry County, Ohio. The harness maker reported to Camp Toledo on September 1. A member of Company B of the 100th Infantry Regiment Ohio, he was detached for duty to the Quartermasters department on September 21. By the November muster roll, he had rejoined his company stationed in Kentucky, where their job was to protect the city of Cincinnati. At the time of his enlistment, he and his wife, Mary Thorn Jacobus, had been married for not quite 5 years. They had three children, Frank, John and Clara, ages 4, 1 and 5 months respectively. 

His death, which would be reported in Edward’s pension files by his Captain, H.D. Taylor, would come almost 8 months to the day after his enlistment.

 “E. Jacobus was a private in my said company and that on or about the 20th day of February, 1863, at or near Lexington, Kentucky, while in the line of his duty, he was taken sick with Lung Fever and after a few days, was removed to the hospital at Lexington where he died of said disease on the 2nd day of April 1863. “ 

Taylor further went on to state: 

“I was present with my company during the time he was sick in hospital and visited him frequently, and I saw him the day before he died and my first Lt. G.D. Forsyth saw him after he was dead and reported the fact to me.” 

The body would not be shipped back to Henry County, but instead, be interred at what was to become Lexington National Cemetery. Edward was 27 years old. The error of the missing “u” was foreshadowed earlier, in the muster roll taken for September and October 1862. A hurried hand wrote, “Edward L. Jacobs.”

Certainly, Captain Taylor knew the correct last name as indicated in his statement in Edward’s pension file, but the clerk who filled out the casualty sheet, probably did not. The casualty sheet read Jacobs, and officially, when the markers were ordered for the graves at Lexington National Cemetery, my gg grandfather became for all intents, Edward L. Jacobs.

On the US Department of Veteran Affairs website, under the heading, “Replacement Headstones and Markers” I found the following information: 

Headstones and markers previously furnished by the Government may be replaced at Government expense if badly deteriorated, illegible, stolen or vandalized. We may also replace the headstone or marker if the inscription is incorrect, if it was damaged during shipping, or if the material or workmanship does not meet contract specifications. 

And For guidance on obtaining a replacement headstone or marker, you may call the Memorial Programs Service Applicant Assistance Unit between the hours of 8:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. (ET), Monday through Friday, at the toll-free number below:1-800-697-6947 

So that is what I did. I called them. From there I was told I had to contact the superintendent at the national cemetery where Edward was buried. The office girl at Lexington National Cemetery told me to send an email. A reply email referred me to Camp Nelson, which is the department that oversees Lexington National Cemetery. Lexington will change their online listing once Camp Nelson has approved and made the change, if I email Lexington and let them know.

A call to Camp Nelson gave me the next hurdle to cross. I needed to bring in the documentation proving that Edward Jacobs was really Edward Jacobus. When I explained I was in Ohio, I was told to send the information along with a phone number. 

So as soon as I am done making this post, I will write the letter, include what I hope to be appropriate documentation, along with a printed copy of this blog post. I will keep you informed of any developments. 

When I have put the letter in the mailbox at the Clyde Post Office, I will post an updated scoreboard to my blog. Of all the requests made this week, this is the one that I hope succeeds. 

Until Next Time – Happy Ancestral Digging!

© 10 August 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Stories My Grandmother Told Me

Though my writing and speech tends to be littered with superlatives – the greatest, the most, the best – the truth is, I’m much too wishy-washy to say definitively that I have a favorite of anything. So, when the glorious fM proposed “My Favorite Photograph” as the subject for this edition of “Smile for the Camera,” I admit to a slight, panic-stricken feeling at committing to a favorite photograph so publicly. I mean, won’t the other photographs be hurt? So after careful consideration, I came up with the winner. If it isn’t my favorite photograph, it is certainly one of my favorites.

 

In my family, old pictures are few and far between. The one I’ve chosen was taken in 1899 at a photography studio in Tiffin, Ohio. It is a picture of my grandmother, Katheryne Cecile Lynch and her twin sister, Elizabeth Lucille Lynch. Katheryne and Elizabeth, born October 4, 1898, were the youngest children of Laura Jane Feasel Lynch and John Perry Lynch. Laura Jane and JP appear not to have been sentimental when it came to naming most of their children. The other children – Flossie, Owen, Elbert, Hazel Grace, and Harry Victor, were not named after family members.

 

But perhaps because they had lost little Hazel Grace at age 3 or maybe it was the unexpected delight at the birth of twin daughters eight years later, Laura Jane and JP decided it was time to give their daughters family names. My grandmother, Katie was named for her paternal grandmother, Catherine Good Lynch while Elizabeth was named for her maternal grandmother, Elizabeth Armstrong Feasel. Eighteen ninety-nine appears to be the year that they set out for Greer County, Oklahoma. JP’s parents had settled there more than a decade earlier when Greer County was still considered a part of Texas. According to my grandmother they traveled by covered wagon, and she swore as little as she was she had memories of crossing the Red River.

 

Somewhere, during this time, and it may have been here in Ohio (though I have found no record of it), little Elizabeth contracted measles and died on July 7, 1899. She was nine months old. My grandmother is the one sitting on the left hand side of the picture, with Elizabeth to her right. It is possibly the only picture taken of the two girls.

 

My grandmother passed away on March 25, 1990. She outlived her twin by more than ninety years.

  Information Sources: 

1. Digital Image of PJ Keller Photograph taken Tiffin, Ohio, 1899, supplied by Phyllis Sloan 

2 .Photographic Images of leaves of George Washington Lynch Family Bible supplied by Anna Belle Lynch Mauldin 

3. Information about Greer County supplied by Dee O’Hara AND 

4. Greer County, OK GenWeb, http://www.okgenweb.org/~okgreer/ 

5. Personal conversations with Katheryne Lynch Hoy Runion

© 27 June 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

"Owed" to an Ugly Wife

The story goes that after a night of frolicking intoxication in Halifax, my 6th great grandfather, Daniel, woke up the next morning and found himself married. The spontaneous nuptials were bad enough, but worse, the “lady” in question was, how should I say this delicately - she put the UG in ugly. Grandpa did what anyone might do in just such a situation. He packed up, and quickly put as much distance as possible between himself and said wife. This occurred in July 1753 and but for one small detail, this story would have been an obscure forgotten incident 

The small detail - Daniel Schumacher, my 6th great grandfather, was a Lutheran minister and would be called on later to explain this little misstep in Nova Scotia. His flight took him south, all the way to Philadelphia where he presented credentials from the Lutheran pastor of New York City and from the ministerium of Lutheran pastors of Hamburg, Germany. The German papers identified young Daniel as a pastoral candidate, meaning he had studied theology at a German university. Though some were skeptical of Daniel and scandalized that he had performed the Lord’s Supper without proper ordination, there was such a hunger on the part of the German immigrants to hear the word preached in their native tongue, that a young man eager to take on the job of traveling minister was hard to turn down. 

Of course, the letters from the Hamburg ministers turned out to be bogus. And it was these very letters that the New York minister, Johann Weygand, had based his own letter of recommendation. Weygand had written to his colleagues in Hamburg 

“…candidate Daniel Schumacher. He arrived here from Halifax a few weeks ago, and, because of the deep respect we for your reverences’ testimonial, we permitted him to preach here, and since he had been quite destitute in Halifax, we furnished him with new clothing, and then sent him to Pennsylvania, where he may expect a prompt assignment, or perhaps one here in our own province.” 

Clearly, Weygand, whose financial support came from Hamburg, was anxious to let the group know that he was taking care of their young protégé.

In 1755, Weygand received a letter from Dr. Friedrich Wagner, of the Hamburg ministerium, stating that no one there could recall a candidate by the name of Daniel Schumacher. Additionally, there were complaints locally of Daniel’s cursing and drunkenness. The news of an abandoned wife in Canada had also surfaced. Slowly, Daniel’s web of lies and half truths began to unravel. 

The synod disassociated with him. He would never become an officially ordained minister, which left him particularly bitter and surly when it came to the folks of the Lutheran synod. He did, however, continue with what he perceived to be his true calling, preaching the gospel as an independent minister.

By this time, Schumacher had endeared himself to his congregations in what are now the counties of Berks, Lehigh, Northampton and Schuylkill in Pennsylvania. In each church where he officiated, he started registers to record the events, and kept his own register with notes of all the baptisms he performed, over 1500 in all. 

For some of these baptisms, he created special, hand decorated baptismal certificates called, Taufscheine. These decorated certificates were a form of the Pennsylvania German folk art, known as Fraktur. He also decorated some of his church registers in the same manner. Daniel’s Fraktur works still exist today and are highly prized pieces of art. He also was an accomplished writer and poet.

 

An Example of Daniel Schumacher's Work from "Publications of The Pennsylvania German Society, Vol.1"

He encouraged, when appropriate, his parishioners to build churches, which were often the center of community life in the back woods of Pennsylvania. He continued to serve them and travel to their homes and churches, even though the ongoing French and Indian War made such travel dangerous. And though at times he could be found in the center of congregational controversy, he remained a popular minister whose flock was very loyal. 

He would marry a local girl, Maria Elisabeth Steigerwalt who must have met Daniel’s standard for beauty, have seven children, and own a 100-acre farm in Lehigh County in Pennsylvania. He died there in May of 1787. 

Daniel was a man of many talents and many flaws. It’s hard to believe that a large number of people with Pennsylvania Dutch heritage owe knowledge of their own ancestral history to Daniel Schumacher’s registers and that a significant number of people are walking the earth today because Daniel couldn’t stand to look at an ugly wife. 

Written for 51st Edition of the Carnival of Genealogy – Independent Spirit 

Sources:

Publications of The Pennsylvania German Society, Vol.1, Allentown, Pennsylvania, The Pennsylvania German Society, 1968. Wertkin, Gerard C, editor and Lee Kogan, associate editor, Encyclopedia of American Folk Art, Routlege, New York, 2004. A History of Weisenberg Church, 1981.

Digital Images, Ancestry, www.ancestry.com, 2008.

© 1 July 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

An Anniversary

On June 9, 1952, my mother and father were married in Woodville, Mississippi. Neither family nor friends were present for the ceremony. Sadly, there were also no pictures to document this important event. My father, whose unit had been activated in August 1951, was stationed at a nearby army base in Louisiana. Because they didn’t know when or if Dad’s unit would ship out for Korea, the young couple decided it was a good time to marry. So my mother, with the knowledge and approval of both of their families, traveled to Louisiana to meet my father. The two slipped over into Mississippi, a state with friendlier age of consent laws, and eloped. The picture below was taken a month later when they were part of another couple’s wedding. It is the closest thing we have to a wedding picture.

 

There is my mother with that winning smile and my father handsome in his army uniform. Both so very young and so unaware how soon they would be parted. Two months later my dad was aboard a ship leaving for Korea, and my mother was on her way back to Fremont to live with her sister. A lucky break for dad occurred when he was one of three men aboard the ship chosen for reassignment to a base in Japan. He remained stationed there as a supply sergeant until the end of the war. 

In August 1953, Dad came home. His ship, which docked in San Francisco, was the first ship to arrive in the United States at the close of the war. He flew back to Ohio where his wife and four-month-old daughter (me) eagerly awaited his return. Four children, seven grandchildren, and two great grandchildren later, they celebrate their fifty-sixth anniversary.

Congratulations, Mom and Dad!

© 10 June 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Momma's Smile

If you know my mother, then you know her smile — “the smile.” It's always there warm, welcoming ready to greet friend, family or soon to be former stranger. My siblings and I were often recipient's of “the smile.” It was a great way to grow up — with momma's smile and my dad's own brand of humor — is it any wonder there's always laughter when we all get together?

So here's to you mom, Happy Mother's Day!

Note this post first published online, May 9, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 9 May 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

The Year of the Great Bean Soup Dilemma

When you are number seven in a tribe of nine children, there are CONSEQUENCES. Consequences like big brothers who think it's funny to tell their little sister in graphic detail exactly where ham comes from - from a pig, from a pig's, well, butt to be exact. And when you are six, and a teensy bit headstrong and definitely repulsed by the image of ham coming from — well, a pig's butt, then you do what any reasonable child would do under the circumstances — you refuse to eat ham, ever. No exceptions.

Now normally, this ban on ham eating would not be a problem, unless of course, you happen to be going to a rural school in Arkansas in the late 1930's, and they happen to serve a lot of bean soup with ham for lunch. They served the soup so often that it was noticed that the little Ohio transplant wouldn't touch the stuff.

Cajoling wouldn't change her stance, nor reasoning (the beans and soup TOUCHED the ham — you just can't reason something like that away!) and finally, when all else failed, threats were made.

And not just any threats, they made the big threat — “We're going to write a note home to your mother!” And when the little girl still refused to eat the soup, the school followed through and sent a note home detailing the child's refusal to eat.

To say that her mother was unhappy about receiving the missive from school is to understate the response by a couple of miles. As my mother put it, she caught holy heck from her mother.

But even this didn't change my mother's mind on eating the soup. Finally, everybody just gave up trying to get her to eat it. Curious, I asked her, what did you eat instead? Mom said she didn't know what she ate on those days when bean soup was on the menu, but she knew what she didn't eat — bean soup with ham.

So in a little country school in Arkansas, where some of the children went to school barefoot, and where all the first-, second- and third-graders were taught in the same one-room building, my mother learned a couple of lessons.

She learned that listening to the big third graders reading out of their more advanced readers made her a better reader, which turned out to be a huge advantage when she went back to Ohio to finish her education.

She learned at the ripe old age of six, when it was important, she had the power to say no and to make the no stick.

And she learned that a person could live a full life without eating bean soup with ham.

And that my friends is the answer to the Carnival of Genealogy's question, “Mom, how'd you get so smart?”

Until Next Time!

Disclaimer: No pigs were harmed in the writing of this post. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the writer's own thoughts on the subject of pork and or ham. In fact, they no longer reflect the author's mother's feelings on the subject of pork and or ham. In do course, and as a cognizant request, please do not send any brochures from the “Council on Pork,” nor from the “Save the Pigs” foundation. Really, we are just a normal everyday family - normal, normal, normal.

Note this post first published online, May 8, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 8 May 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Thanksgiving and an Anniversary

My grandparents, Frank Eugene Hoy and Katheryne Cecile Lynch, were married 91 years ago today at Ebenezer Evangelical Church in Tiffin. The picture attached to this post was taken on the day of their wedding. Talk about opposites attracting, they don't get more opposite then Frank and Katie.

I was not yet 10 when grandpa died in 1963, so my memories of him are vague and fuzzy. I know he was short, with mounds of white wavy hair. He always seemed to be smoking a cigar, so that cigar smoke intermingled with the scent of lilacs from the bush that grew in his yard, conjure up his memory for me. A gentleness and warmth surrounded him, and though I didn't know him well, I always felt peaceful and loved in his presence.

My mother tells the story of Grandpa, who did not drive, walking all the way to our house to give his youngest daughter, my mom, flowers for her birthday.

The story I like best, the one that cements Grandpa's character for me, is the one my mother has told about the German bible that Grandpa had in his possession. During World War II an old German-speaking gentleman would walk to Grandpa's house every week so he could read Grandpa's German bible. This made the family a bit nervous — it was during World War II after all and nobody like those “dirty Germans.” Grandpa ignored it all, figuring if this gentleman wanted to read his old bible, the bible would be there for him to read. Grandpa — my gentle-hearted hero.

Gentleness, however, would not be the word to describe my grandmother, Katie. In her younger years she was a temperamental, larger than life red head. She and her twin sister, Elizabeth were the youngest children of her family. Grandma once told me that she was her dad's favorite and Elizabeth was her mom's favorite. This seems highly unlikely since Elizabeth died at nine months of measles. I think this was Grandma speak for “Daddy said yes, and Momma said no.”

When Grandma talked her arms would fly in all directions, punctuating her words as she spoke. For a shy child like me, grandma could be mighty intimidating. However Grandma had two things going for her in my young mind, she made great fried chicken and she loved to tell stories. I never saw her at a loss for words or for stories. I would settle into a corner, far enough away from her flying hands and listen as a child. I can only remember vague pieces of some of them, enough to know that, as I have often said, she never let a little thing like facts, get in the way of a good story.

To this day, I don't know if the story she once told me about she and Grandpa meeting at a Halloween party is true. However they met, I'd lay my money on Grandma being the one to start the flirtation.

As is often the case of opposites, the attraction eventually wanes and then turns to irritation, which turns into anger and frustration. When my mother was still a child, Katie and Frank divorced. I know their divorce caused their children a lot of sadness and because Katie had instigated the divorce, she had some very angry children.

But it is appropriate to give thanks, on this day of Thanksgiving, that these two opposites, somehow found and married each other, because from their union came nine children. Nine perfect gems, each one shining in his or her own right, who have gone on to have children, grandchildren and even a few great-grandchildren to grace this earth. As one of these descendants of Frank and Katheryne, I am truly thankful for this small miracle.

May you and yours be blessed with a wonderful Thanksgiving Day.

Until Next Time — Happy Ancestral Digging!

Note this post first published online, November 22, 2007, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 22 November 2007, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

A Defective Laugh Gene

Confession time. I have a secret. When I laugh, every once in a while I will suck in air through my nose and mouth, and this rather unpleasant sound emerges. I mean really unpleasant. You know, unpleasant as in “hey, who let the pig loose in the theater” unpleasant. Technically, you might call it a snort, but ladies don't snort, right? 

 I haven't always had this problem. I mean I don't remember any kids on the school playground pointing derisively at me while I was laughing. I'm sure I would remember something that traumatic. The thing is, I wasn't bred by snorters. Both of my parents have these nice respectable laughs (although I'm not sure the same could be said of their sense of humor, Dad!). 

 I've tried to hide this affliction from the general public, I think pretty successfully. When I'm laughing in a public place I will laugh and think, “Don't snort.” Laugh - “Don't snort.” Laugh- “Don't snort.” What does this have to do with genealogy or family history? Well, in talking to the very nice minister who gave the service at my Aunt's funeral yesterday, he mentioned that the family had told him about my Aunt's snort and that her granddaughter, Tanya had inherited the same snort (sorry Tanya, but it was the Reverend who outted you, not me). Without missing a beat, my formerly sweet sister poked me in the ribs and said, “Hey that must be where you get it from!” Thanks sis. 

 So now I know it's inherited. It must have just skipped a generation. Oh and the piece de resistance, my brother-in-law narced on my rib poking sister and told me she snorts too - she must be better at hiding it than I am. As it turns out, both of my sisters are secret snorters. And for all of you smug non-snorters sitting out there passing judgment, remember NEITHER of my parents are afflicted, and look what defective laughers they produced. 

 So if you happen to be at the local cinema and you hear someone laughing and then snorting, be nice. It could be yours truly - or one of my siblings - or maybe even a cousin! Until Next Time — Happy Ancestral Digging! Note this post first published online, October 3, 2007, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

©3 October 2007, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Aunt Florence

My Aunt Florence passed away last week. Born on April 30, 1917, she came into this world three weeks after the United States declared war on Germany. She died, as the United States stands enmeshed in conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. For someone who had such bellicose bookends marking her life, she was a lady of great warmth and humor. Because she was the eldest of nine siblings, her knowledge of our family history was the most extensive — she had lived it first hand.

In my blog, “It's All in the Detail,” I related one of her stories about her maternal grandmother, Laura Jane Feasel Lynch. She also had stories about her paternal grandparents, Samuel and Clara Jacobus Hoy. Clara, Florence said, favored the male grandchildren. On one occasion, Clara had given Florence's brother Johnny a sack of candy. In recounting the story some 80 years later, Florence remained slightly offended that Johnny had not shared one piece of this windfall with her. 

She also told stories of Christmas at the Hoy family farm. Tradition had a huge evergreen on the homestead being lit with candles on its branches — a most spectacular sight. Her Uncle Robert, only 10 years older than Florence and the youngest of Sam and Clara's boys, was in charge of the water bucket used to douse any errant flames that lighting the Christmas tree invariably created.

Storytelling was Aunt Florence's favorite form of communication. Seeing Aunt Florence meant hearing a story that was guaranteed to make you smile, if not cause an outright belly laugh. As often as not, she was the target of her own stories, some silly thing she had done or that had happened to her. 

After my brother received his associate's degree, he went to Mentor and moved in with Aunt Florence as he went job hunting. I think Aunt Florence enjoyed having him to fuss over, and I know my brother enjoyed that time with her, as well as getting a chance to know his “Cleveland” cousins. His tales of Aunt Florence's cooking were mouth watering to those of us listening, and her lasagna, apparently, was the closest thing mere mortals could get to heaven. 

Today, Florence Laura Hoy Fry is being laid to rest. She will lie beside her beloved husband, Wilbur Chester Fry in Oakwood Cemetery. In a world of negative and strident voices, there is sadness in knowing that a voice of such warmth and laughter has been forever stilled. 

 Until Next Time … Note this post first published online, October 2, 2007, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

©2 October 2007, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

It's All in the Details

Sooner or later, when people find out that I “do” genealogy they will ask the inevitable question, “How far back have you gone?” Invariably they will know someone who has taken their family history back to William the Conqueror, the Mayflower or some other very old, very proper family line. The question always makes me squirm, though it's a perfectly logical and valid question.

Early on, my goal was to take each family line back to when they had “crossed the pond”, but something funny happened along the way. I started getting absorbed into the daily minutia that was each ancestor's life. With each newly found ancestor, I was unable to move on until I had devoured every stray detail. As a child, I used to imagine that if I colored the picture of Sleeping Beauty perfectly, with the right colors, staying in the lines, the picture would come to life. Apparently, I operate under that same principle when it comes to genealogy. If I can just fill in enough details, add the color of their daily lives, then maybe my ancestors will “come to life” for me. The approach didn't work at four, but ever the optimist, a half-century later my heart still believes it can happen.

Above is the only picture that I have of either my great-grandfather, John Perry Lynch or my great-grandmother Laura Jane Feasel Lynch. It was taken in either 1923 or 1924, a few short years before Laura Jane's death. In the picture, JP and Laura Jane are surrounded by their four living children, a daughter-in-law, and some of their grandchildren. John Perry is the grumpy-looking man on the left and Laura Jane is seated directly in front of him. John Perry was a creative man — he was an amateur artist and a musician. As a creative fellow, JP found it difficult to make a living. He was, at various times, a farmer, a laborer, a merchant and a telegrapher. I don't think he found joy in any of those professions. He was always restless, ready to move on to something else. 

He lived in Seneca County, Ohio; Crawford County, Illinois; Greer County Oklahoma; Washington County, Arkansas; before finally moving back to Fremont, Ohio where he died in 1930. His obituary appeared in The Fremont Messenger, May 20, 1930 with a caption that read, “Poison Fatal to John Lynch”. (A typed account of the obituary appears at this link — http://familytreemaker.genealogy.com/users/s/n/y/Teresa-Snyder/FILE/0019page.html.)

Somehow, JP always came back to Northwest Ohio. I think that it was Laura Jane, who acted as the rubber band that pulled the family back each time. I know from postcards and letters that even when the family was living in other places, Laura Jane would make extended visits back to Seneca County where her mother and siblings lived. The visits would be so long that young Katie, my grandmother, would be enrolled in school for the duration of the visit

Laura Jane died before my mother was born so mother has no first hand memories of either JP or Laura. My Aunt Florence, the little blondie in the back row of the picture, has filled in some of the blanks. Florence tells stories of Laura letting the children play and run around on the front porch. There apparently was a music room in the house where JP had his musical instruments including a piano. The grandchildren were not allowed in this room. However, when JP was out in the fields working, Laura would open up the door to the room and let little Florence go in and bang on the piano to her hearts content, all the while Laura was watching out the door for any signs of JP. When she would see him coming she would tell Florence to close up the keys, and they would close the door. Florence was wise enough to know this was a secret shared only with Grandma.

In this picture, I can almost feel the sun caressing Laura's face, the casual swinging of a foot back and forth, and the contented smile of a woman surrounded by the family she loves. For me, this is where the research leads. For a moment, I feel connected to this woman, my great-grandmother. Just a moment, but for me that is enough.

Until Next time — Happy Ancestral Digging Note this post first published online, September 21, 2007, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

©21 Sept 2007, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder