A few pages

Have you written about your life?

One Sunday when I was a teenager I decided to read my grandpa’s life story (my mom’s dad). He passed away before I was born and I sometimes felt a little bit cheated when I would hear my friends talk about their grandpas (my dad’s dad had also passed away before I was born).

At the time, I was struggling a little with my testimony of the church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). Grandpa Hart told a story from his boyhood where he had been given way too much change from the cashier at the grocery store. After just a short time of thinking about it, he decided to tell the cashier and he said that he had a good feeling when he exchanged the money for the correct change. Then he shared his testimony of the church and his desire for his posterity to live the commandments.

Reading the testimony of my grandpa, whom I had not been able to meet, was so special to me. I am so glad that he took the time to write about his life. It was only a few pages, but they sure mean a lot to me.

(And thank you Barbara for encouraging him to do it!)

Mabel’s birthplace – “one of the best sections in the county”

Mabel Estella Billings, my great-grandmother, was born in 1879 in the farming town of Mountain Lake, Cottonwood County, Minnesota. From the history of Cottonwood County it says that “originally, this township had numerous swamps and lakelets, but with the flight of years they have nearly all been reclaimed, and now growing crops wave over their surface.” It sounds a bit like Nauvoo, doesn’t it? The history goes on to say that “the soil is of unexcelled fertility in these old lake and pond beds. Hundreds of miles of private farm tilling have made this one of the best sections in the county, and still the work is going on.”

On the 1880 census, Mabel and her family were found there in Mountain Lake. Sophronius, her father, was listed as a farmer and her mother was “keeping-house.”

For one of my family history classes I had an assignment to take three or four pages of a census on which my family was recorded, and do an analysis of the community. I found this to be so interesting that I did a study of the entire township (which was only about 22 pages). In a township comprised of 527 people, 323 were born in Russia, 142 were born in the United States, 16 in Ireland, 14 in Norway, 13 in Prussia, 11 in Sweden, 3 in Austria, 2 in Poland, one in Scotland, one in Württemberg [Germany], and one in Canada. Many of those born in the United States were children who were first-generation Americans.

I thought that it was very interesting that my great grandmother was born in such an ethnically diverse town. Her family at least two generations back had lived in America (that is as far back as we have traced her ancestry so far.) The county history explains that “the township, as are others adjoining it, is largely settled by Russians, who came to this part of the county in great colonies about 1870 and later.”

So there is just a little taste of the town where my great-grandmother was born. I love learning about the places where my ancestors came from. And I highly recommend doing census studies – they can be fun!

Some information taken from: History of Cottonwood and Watonwan County, Minnesota (Indianapolis: B.F. Bowen & Co., 1916), 157.

A Fisher at Heart!

I have this neat picture of my Grandpa Hart in my bedroom. I like to look at it and try to imagine what he was like.

My aunt, Barbara, just told the story behind this picture in a comment on another post. I hope you all enjoy it:

Another story about Dad is his love of fishing. He had an aluminum boat, that was not too hard to handle. One year he had an accident on his painting job at Ore-Ida. He was up on a ladder painting on a door, when some driver came out through the door and knocked Dad off the ladder. He broke some bones in his foot. Did that stop him from going fishing ? No way, he was on crutches, but still went fishing and caught about 10 large fish.

We had so many enjoyable fishing trips. That is one of my favorite memories from my childhood. Thanks, Mom and Dad for those wonderful memories.

Isn’t that cool?! I can’t wait to meet him.

Thanks Barbara

Heavenly Hosts

When I was trying to come up with a title for this blog I ran across the words “kindred dead” and I didn’t really want to name it that, but then I thought of “kindred spirits.” Anne of Green Gables talks about kindred spirits a lot. Those really good friends that you can tell anything to and they will listen, that can relate to you or if they don’t they still appreciate you.

They are special people. Well, I feel that way a lot about my ancestors. I feel like there is some connection there, and like they do know about me and care about me.

“If we only knew it, there are heavenly hosts pulling for us—friends in heaven that we can’t remember now, who yearn for our victory.”
~President Ezra Taft Benson

I really believe this is true.

A Soft Spoken Grandpa

When I was in 7th grade, I had an assignment to interview an older member of the community who was alive during WWII. I called up an elderly lady in my neighborhood and introduced myself. She was hard of hearing, and my voice is very soft, so you can probably imagine the sort of difficulties that I had. After I repeated who I was several times, we mutually agreed to move on to the purpose of my call. I said, “I was wondering if I could come talk to you…” “What? I can’t hear you…” came the response. “I was wondering…” I started again, but again got the same reaction. After about ten times of trying to tell her that I wanted to come talk to her, she suggested that I just come to her house and then she might be able to understand what I was saying.

I hung up the phone, threw myself on my mom’s bed and bawled. Not only was I extremely embarrased and frustrated, but now I was going to have to go over to the lady’s house and do it all over again. After a little while, Mom offered to come with me to her house, and we went. It went a lot better than I thought it would.

You may wonder why I’m telling this story. Well, a while back my mom was telling me about her dad and the difficulties that he had speaking in public. When he would get nervous, his voice actually became more quiet, and try as he might, he could not change it. Knowing that about my grandfather, who passed away before I was born made me feel closer to him. I have something in common with him.

I love family history. It is fun to find out what my ancestors did, how they lived, and what they believed in.

I am excited about beginning this blog! I hope that all of you will feel free to add your thoughts and ideas here. Please feel free to add your own stories. This can also be a place to talk about resources, research strategies, and anything else that has to do with family history.

Thanks for visiting!