52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History: Spring

I can’t think of a story about spring that doesn’t include the word “cleaning.” My family was big on spring cleaning and my job was always windows.  I’d mix up a big metal pail with vinegar and water and dunk in newspapers to do the wiping.  

We’d pack up the winter wear and bring out the summer clothing, holding back just a few winter favorites that we knew we’d wear to extinction.

The beds and curtains would be striped and beaten with a mop on the back porch to get all the dust out.

The daffodils would be in bloom and all would be clean and sparkly.

Wisdom Wednesday- Scotland’s People is WAY More Fun than Vegas

Earlier this week, I read about the promotion on ScotlandsPeople for oversees customers.  They are giving away 30 free credits.  I ran over there (figuratively with my fingers and mouse) and got my free credits.

I’ve spent a lot of time on Scotland’s People in the past, but to buy credits is an ordeal.  I have to get denied by my bank (they see my account and know there is no possible freaking way that I can afford to be in Scotland), get my account suspended, wait for the bank to call before I use any money (on SP or elsewhere), and then wait for my account to be activated and redo the order.  So I only do it when I really, really need something. 

Or when someone gives me 30 free credits. 

If you haven’t been on the site, they have original records that you buy with credits.  It’s 1 credit to look at the search results and 5 credits for an image.  So it’s a bit like a slot machine with two times to ante up: the first gives you some odds and the second can be a jackpot or a bust.

You sit down at a slot machine Type your information in the search boxes.

Pull the handle Click search.

The wheels spin cursor turns into a sand-dial.

You get some cherries and oranges It tells you how many matches you have.

That’s when the real gambling starts.  You pick one and spend your five credits.

And you waste 5 credits. 

Or... up pops your 4^th great grandparents’ marriage information from the parish record…

Jackpot. 

P.S. I'm now down to my last 6 credits... one search and one image... It's burnin' a hole in my pocket...

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History: Illness & Injury

When I was five, I decided to play popcorn stand with my bicycle.  I upended it and spun the wheels and gleefully made up a song about making popcorn for the circus.

And then I put my middle finger in the spokes.

And had to go for stitches.

I cried all the way there, not because it hurt, but because we were in public and I had my towel-wrapped middle finger raised high in the air, flipping off everyone we passed, which I knew was Super Bad™.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History: Disasters

When I write my stories for Personal Genealogy, I try to think of the first thing that comes to mind when I read the prompt.  With “DISASTERS”, 9/11 should have been my first thought, but it wasn’t.  The Loma Prieta earthquake was.  I guess proximity matters just a bit?

On October 17, 1989, I was standing just inside the door to our apartment in Mountain View, California, dusting the bookcase to my right.  I felt something and looked across the apartment in time to see the ceramic piggy bank that sat on my desk in our bedroom.  It was at that moment suspended in mid-air.  And then it came crashing down. 

Before my brain could even think the word, “Earthquake,” it thought, “Hey, I can’t usually see my desk from here”  The entire apartment building had shifted about 30 degrees giving me the previously unseen vantage point of my desk from the front door.

I eventually got to the word, “Earthquake,” and that’s when my brain remembered to open the front door and stand in the doorway while the shaking continued.  Roughly every piece of furniture fell over and the kitchen cabinets were barely hanging on the walls.  From standing in the doorway and being bounced back and forth, I had bruises up and down both sides of my body for a few weeks.

The death toll was in the millions by day two and the entire bridge had, of course, fallen.  Or at least that is how the news portrayed it.  At the time, I was attending San Francisco State University and traveling there by train.  No one spoke of anything else for weeks.  The radio had that high pitched sound only no one was saying it was a test.  The afternoon of the quake, Marc and I went to hang out with my dad.  Scary times like that require one’s husband AND dad, I think.

Wordless Wednesday - NEHGS

My 5-year-old son and I in front of NEHGS in Boston.  Sadly, it was late and they weren't open, so this is as far as we got.  Boston was amazing, so when I go back, a trip to the library (INSIDE) is in order.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - Sports

I never played sports, but my brother did (and still does) play baseball.  I went to many a Little League game, yelling about the itch on the belly of the pitcher and the bad eyes of the umpire.

But my favorite childhood sports memories were of watching the San Francisco Giants’ games at Candlestick Park.  We’d get seats pretty high (and cold), but brought blankets and had the full experience of a ball game.  We’d chant and sing and have an all-around good time.  Well worth the 80 million in tickets my parents surely spent.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - Vacations

Although I already wrote about my summer vacations traveling with my best friend as a teen, my favorite childhood vacations were actually more about the journeys than the destinations.

For instance, I don’t remembered details of being at Disneyland, but I remember driving there.  Mom would pack a cooler of food and drinks and they’d be on the floor of the backsets- resting directly below the dangling feet of my brother and me.    We’d anxiously await the time we’d get to delve in.  Mom or Dad with say it.  Either “So, what’ve we got to eat back there?” or “Should we stop to eat?”

My personal favorite would be when we would eat and keep driving.  Mom would divvy everything up and we just eat ‘n’ drive.  Second best would be when we’d stop at a truck stop and be able to watch from our picnic table as the truckers and other travelers drove up and then out.

Sorry, Mom and Dad.  You didn’t’ need to spend all that money on D tickets at Disneyland and hotels and campground rentals; all we needed was a long car drive.