In Which I Remember My Anniversary

Just like with my wedding anniversary, I totally missed my genealogy blog anniversary last week.  A year.  A whole year.  I remember the moment it clicked- blogging and genealogy.  Blogging was NOT new to me.  I’ve been blogging since before it was a verb.  But I blogged for my personal life.  Genealogy didn’t interest those in my personal life so I never wrote about my genealogy adventures.  But I loved genealogy adventures and I loved writing (when someone would actually read it). 

I went to the Northern California Family History Expo a little over a year ago with just the intention of having a good time.  I sat down to adjust my crap goodies and someone (I think it may have been Amy Coffin, although I never even got her name so I just imagine and pretend that it was Amy and that I met her in person) started talking to a new crowd about blogging.  She was going over how free and easy it was and I knew about free and easy, but I sat there wondering how I could have Google Reader and follow a jillion mommy blogs that I read every day and never ever once thought to even look for genealogy blogs.

I made a note on a piece of crap flier to look into that asap.  Then I realized that I could WRITE ONE, TOO!  Someone might read it and know what I mean when I say, “Genealogy Happy Dance”.  Or, better yet, someone might read it and have some fun stuff for me.  Like cousinhood.  Which in one year has happened three times already. 

I may have some times when not much appears here, but that’s only because I’m preparing stuff to appear here.  (maybe).

Thanks for being here for me, oh blog o’mine.  You keep me genealogically new.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History: Least Favorite Food

My long-time least favorite food is seafood.  Of any kind, from any watery setting.  I do not like seafood.  I DO NOT LIKE SEAFOOD.  Marc has to make and eat his tuna fish sandwiches on the porch.  His salmon is rationed for when I travel.  The popcorn shrimp the kids like can only be eaten when Momma is away.

In fact, I haste seafood so much that I don’t even want to write about it any more.

The end.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History: Trouble

(note:  I'm very behind in my 52 weeks posts.  I have them written, but they aren't typed, so...)  I'll be posting a lot of these in the next few days...)

I don’t recall being in trouble so much as a child.  That was my little brother’s domain.  My “trouble” was more internal in nature.  I remember one time in sixth grade when I got a bad grade on a report card.  There were extenuating circumstances that, in hindsight, were much more serious than anyone thought at the time, but it all worked out.

It was my social studies class and our teacher would have been a terrific high school teacher.  But we were 12… Part of our grade was based on “current events.”  We could choose each week between writing a paper about a current event, drawing a political cartoon, or standing in front of the class and reiterating a newspaper story.  I wrote many papers and drew many cartoons, but was DREAADFULLY shy and didn’t do the speaking aloud.

About midway through the semester, the teacher informed me that I *HAD* to do a few newspaper articles aloud.  I refused and she stopped accepting my papers and cartoons.  I got As on tests, As on homework, As on everything except current events, where I got a C due to my refusal to stand in front of the class. My report card outlined- “C- Current Events-: A-Cartoons, A-Papers, F-Newspaper Articles.” 

Our parents had to sign the report cards and so I easily penciled a line to the “F” to turn it into an “A.”  My plan was to give it to Dad.  He’d sign it and then before turning it back in, I’d erase the line. 

But I didn’t count on Dad actually reading it…

Imagine my surprise when he looked it over and realized that all “A”s do not make a “C”.  I completely didn’t count on that.  I made some excuse up about how she just didn’t like me and in anger, he turned the report card over and ripped my teacher a new one for being arbitrary in her grading system.  Only he didn’t use those words…

I carried the card to my room and pondered the quandary.  I decided to cross out Dad’s note and write, “Nevermind.”  Brilliant!  She’d never know!  (she did and called Dad).  But I also decided that scheming and lying were not for me.  My stomach hurt and I felt so terrible for deceiving my teacher and my family, and the stress wasn’t worth it.  I self-imposed some punishments- no television, no sleepovers, and no telephone for a month.  I also decided that a good punishment was to make myself do the newspaper articles in front of the class.

All that punishment was before I got caught.  Once Dad knew, I had no punishment from outside.  Just concern over why.

I forced by self to speak week after week and even was on the debate team in high school and have no issues with public speaking now.  But oh boy was I shy back then!

Blacksheep Sunday: Pete, Pinochle, and (Possibly Peppermint) Schnapps

I asked Grampa about his father-in-law, Peter Felt.  Grampa called him, “Pete,” and described him as a “real nice” guy who loved laughing and jokes.  He worked at the Homestake Mine in Moskee, Wyoming with his brother Lars and possibly another that Grampa called a “shirttail” relation.

The Homestake Gold Mine started in Lead, South Dakota.  Well, actually, the Homestake Gold Mine itself started the town of Lead, in the Black Hills of South Dakota on April 9, 1876.  Two brothers, Moses and Fred Manuel and their partner, Hank Harney, founded their Homestake claim.  Moses found a vein of ore, called a “lead” (pronounced LEED) and staked their claim.  Homestake Mining Company was bought by George Hearst, father of William Randolph Hearst, the newspaper man.

In about 1921, the Homestake Mining Company developed Moskee, Wyoming, about 30 miles from Lead, to provide wood to the mine.  In 1925 they opened a post office and in 1928, a school.  In the 1930s, the population was about 200.  It closed in the 1940s.

Pete’s wife Inga dominated the family.  She didn’t like Pete or their sons to drink so when Grampa would come around, Pete would tell Inga that he had to take Pierre into Deadwood or Lead.  They’d visit the shady bar and Peter Felt would drink perhaps a bit more than his share of his favorite drink: Schnapps.

Peter and Inga (Auslund/Aslund) Felt

One time, Grampa and Art Felt, Gramma’s brother, drove out to Moskee to visit and they got snowbound for three or four weeks.  They played the card game Pinochle non-stop.  Pete would go to work and they’d pace all day waiting for him to get home so they could resume the game.  I liked this story, because I have many memories, even recent ones, with marathon family Pinochle games. 

Pinochle is a game brought to America by immigrants.  The name is from the mispronounced word, “ Binocle,” meaning eyeglasses.  Pinochle was a favorite of American Jewish community and Irish immigrants, as well as German.

Matrilineal Monday: My Line

1) Me
2) Mom
3) Ethyl Maxine Shelton, b. 27 Jan 1911, Sacramento, Sacramento Co., CA.  m. 1- Charles Albert Badgley, 2- Harold Marlott Stonaker.  d. 15 May 2000, Oakland, Alameda Co., CA
4) Myra Belle Hulse, b. 17 Feb 1890, Visalia, Tulare Co., CA, m. Cora E. Shelton. d. 15 Oct 1930, CA
5) Mary Louisa Doty, b. 1 Jan 1854, OH, m. John Andrew Hulse. d. 27 Jun 1935, San Mateo Co., CA
6) Mariah E. Zimmerman, b. Mar 1836, OH. m. Francis Doty. d. 20 Nov 1911, OH
7) Cynthia Kincaid, b. OH