2010 March » Brenner Genealogy

Managing Relationships (GeneaPopPop)

Mar 302010

Recently I found a significant mistake in my family tree. I had my gg-grandmother’s brother listed as her father. I realized the mistake when I found that she was three years older than he. I have also encountered an interesting problem when two men named John (both with the same surname but three generations apart) got linked inappropriately in a separate file in my database. It created a loop that went on ad infinitum. In both cases initial embarrassment and frustration gave way to laughter… but not as much laughter as the following video which suggests that genealogical relationships are not necessarily as simple as a relationship grid might suggest. As an example, I think I have finally come to understand the difference between a first cousin once removed and a second cousin… but this video compounds the issue greatly. Check it out!

Stardust Stories: John Charles Weaver – Part 6

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Mar 272010

John Charles Weaver (1884 – 1969) was my wife’s paternal grandfather. Fortunately, he left us with an autobiographical sketch, richly filled with family stories and genealogical information. Recently my wife re-read her grandfather’s story of his life. She had remembered him as a somewhat stern and aloof person. But that is not what comes through in his writing. “I wish I had know these aspects of him,” she mused. In order to preserve and share the multi-textured person that was John Charles Weaver, I am sharing his writing in 6 posts.
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MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY JOHN CHARLES WEAVER (Part 6)

Then there were the school days. My sister, Eva, and I attended Our Lady of Perpetual Help School. Our pastor was Rev. Michael Patrick Kinkead, a priest with a broad Irish brogue. The school was under the supervision of the Dominican Sisters. Sister M. Alexus taught the lower grades and Sister M. Phillips, a freckle faced bull of the woods type, the upper grades. Then there was Sister Mary Thomas (my favorite) a music teacher from who I took piano lessons. I was not a brilliant scholar, but I managed to get passable grades. Strange to say my best grades were in grammar, fair in arithmetic, poor in spelling, and as I mention spelling I am reminded of the time when I, the poorest speller in the class, won the spelling match.

Here is how it happened. Sister would select two captains, a boy and a girl. The boy going on one side of the room and the girl on the other. Then these captains would choose from the class talking alternate turns. Of course they would pick the best spellers first, and as usual a boy named Anthony Applethorn and I were the last to be chosen. Now while we had a Catholic speller, Sister would choose some words from the public school speller. On this occasion she was choosing words from the public speller. Sometimes Anticipating this I had prepared a list of words that I would submit. I copied them from a public school speller that I obtained from a neighbor girl, but on this day Sister chose to give out the words. When you missed a word you went to your seat. After several rounds the captains missed as did the entire class save me. The odd numbers left me the only one standing. “Well, John,” said Sister and repeated the missed word and to the amazement of Sister and the class I spelled it. The word was DAGUERREOTYPE. I had won the contest. Sister had given a word that I had chosen from the public school speller. So with lips compressed and a stony- eyed glare the mystified Sister gave me the usual prize – a lace-embroidered holy picture of the crown of thorns.

Although it has no connection with the above incident, it fits into the picture for want of a better palace. So I relate the following episode. Sister Superior Phillips called me to her desk and handed me an envelope and told me to take it over to Father. So i did. Father read the message, then in a stern voice and Irish brogue said “Knale dune.” I knelt. He put his foot on the nape of my neck, forced my head down and my bottom up. Then gave me a resounding whack on my rear cheeks. I yelped, scrambled to my feet and ran out of the house. He didn’t try to stop me. I dried my tears and returned to my classroom trying to act as though nothing had happened. And I never did know what I was paddled for.

One of the important events of the school year was the preparation of the First Communion class. Father Kinkead made an extra special occasion of it. He would prepare a banquet in the school hall to which the parents of the class were invited. The year 1896 was no exception and it was my year. I was probably the best dressed boy in the class as my First Communion pictures will testify. There were about fifteen boys in the class and about the same number of girls. In those days you had to be twelve years old before receiving. Our Communion hymn impressed me and it became a part of my prayers and since I have heard nothing to compare with it. I think it is worthy of note. So here it is.

I am ym loves and He is mine.
O earth attend. Ye heavens hear.
Your mighty Lord, Your King divine,
Is now my bosom’s guest most dear.

Behold the vast Creator makes
His home within His creature’s breast.
His realms of glory He forsakes
Tis in my heart He longs to rest.

My dearest Lord, my God, I’m Thine
And Thou, my Jesus, art all mine.
My heart forever Thine shall be.
Oh keep it, Jesus, all for Thee.

Another event that had affected the course of my life and which occurred on my First Communion day was my induction into the Father Mattew Society – a total abstinence society originating in Ireland – of which our pastor. Father Michael Kinkead, was an advocate. He explained its purpose and asked for volunteers from the boys to take the pledge till age twenty-one. Two booys stood up, Joseph Wahl and me. Father administered the oath and I became a member of the Father Matthew Society – total abstinence from intoxicating liquor till age twenty-one.

So as I entered my teenage years I was active in a number of pastime activities – fishing, swimming, baseball, football, and marbles. In the winter months it was skating, sledding and ice hockey on the ice-covered river.

Then came adversity. First, my youngest brother, Leonard, died of brain fever and was brought to Dayton for burial. Then the carriage factory where my father was superintendent got into financial difficulties due to the race horse activities of the owner and the plant was closed down. He got the job of watchman during legal proceedings.

My parents had made no financial provision for the future, so when the crash came they were unprepared. So we moved from our home on Dietrick Street to cheaper quarters nearby. Our new home was one of a group of houses all built alike with a single community well-water pump on the sidewalk. I never knew how much my father’s income was, but I do know that it was not enough to meet expenses and that they ran up a sizeable grocery bill at Minnich’s grocery store and that they were paying on it long after we had left Defiance, Ohio.

Stardust Stories: John Charles Weaver – Part 5

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Mar 262010

MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY JOHN CHARLES WEAVER (Part 5)

As we lived on the banks of the Maumee River, I practically lived in the water of went fishing. At that time the Maumee was the most prolific fish producing river in the U.S. I could pick up a length of cord, tie it to a bent pin, dig a few worms, break off a limb from a willow tree for a pole and in no time have myself a string of sunfish, crappies and yellow bellies – enough for a meal before breakfast. Papa also strung a trot – line across the river with hooks tied onto it about two feet apart. We had a boat and every evening we would run the trot – line and pick off the fish.

I was also a pigeon fancier. In my pigeon coop I had an assortment of pigeons, white blowers, fantails and tumblers. But they multiplied so fast that my coop became too small. Then too, they attracted to many rats that they became a nuisance and I had to get rid of them. With the pigeons gone the rat epidemic subsided.

My almost daily playmate was a little Dutch boy named Oscar Haydord Harmon Anderson. We played marbles a lot and he would generally win. Then he would give me back the marbles he had won and we would start over again. In the winter months when the river would freeze over, it was skating and sled coasting. The river was about 200 feet below our backyard and we would coast from a point at our back-porch, down the hill, through an arbor of grapevines onto and across the river.

Five pennies was the price of admission to see one of our dramatic presentations. We would act out nursery stories; Jack and Jill; Little Miss Muffet, etc. with a red light tableau as a grand finale.

Then there was our dog who was my constant companion. He was a big dog, half Newfoundland and half St. Bernard, with a big spot of white on his breast. We named him “Nigger.” [Note: I was tempted to eliminate or mask the previous sentence because of its offensive language.] One day two men were crossing the field and saw me and my dog. They called me over and told me they could show me how to make my dog do tricks. I came over and as I held my hand on the neck of my dog they poured some liquid on his back. My dog gave a terrific yelp as he broke from me and it was days before I could get near him. It left a scar on his back and hair never grew on that spot.

Then there was the time when I passed out bills advertising a play at the local theater and I got a free ticket for the Saturday afternoon performance. It was the first time I had ever been in a theater and I was uncomfortable. The curtain came up and the play was on. Finally the villain appeared, fired a shot and somebody dropped over dead. It scared the liver out of me and there was a vacant seat – front row center on the aisle.

Then there was the time when I was a Drummer boy along with about twenty other boys. We were dressed in white shirtwaists and blue short pants – only mine had ruffles that embarrassed me to death. We beat our drums as we sang, “Drummer boy, drummer boy where are you going, rolling so gaily your bold rap-a-tan? I’m going to where my country my service is needing, rolling so gaily my bold rap-a-tan.”

Stardust Stories: John Charles Weaver – Part 4

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Mar 252010

MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY JOHN CHARLES WEAVER (Part 4)

Pedro was the popular card game of the times and there was seldom an evening that it was not the pastime and our home was the most popular meeting place. When company would drop in I would be sent to the nearby saloon with a gallon bucket to get beer. I would knock on the door and the bartender would come and take my bucket (minors not allowed) fill it, give me a pretzel and I would be on my way with the evening’s cup of cheer.

One evening Mrs. McNally, a nearby neighbor, was the only person to come. Her husband was working overtime and she didn’t want to be home alone. They decided to play cards with me as my mother’s partner. I was elated at the opportunity but Papa told me to run over to McNally’s home and see if he had returned. Disappointed I went hoping that Mr. McNally would not be home, but there he was walking up and down the room. But I wanted to play Pedro so I cam back and with a straight face told a whopper. I said the house was dark and I played Pedro with a guilty conscience. I don’t know if they ever found out. If they did they never said anything, but I think my mother had her doubts.

About a quarter of a mile from our house and across the open field was the junction of the B&O & Walbash railroads, and at that point was a target station shanty and signal tower. The watchman was Tom Birch who lived next door to us. He was supposed to be in the shanty but seldom was. When a train would come to the junction they had to wait for the all-clear signal before they could cross the junction. The target signals were two balls, one red, the other green about the size of volley balls and it was Tom’s job to manipulate the balls and a train could not pass until Tom gave them the green signal. When a train came to the junction and found the red light against it, the engineer, knowing of Tom’s habits, would toot the whistle with a series of short blasts and Tom would come bounding out of the house. Now Tom had lost his right leg in a railroad accident which accounted for their putting up with Tom’s negligence. He wore a cork leg that would give a loud squeak when he put his weight on it, and when he was in a hurry which was usually most of the time, he wouldgo bounding across the field kangaroo fashion: thump, hop, squeak, thump, hop, squeak to the target house, pull up the red ball, let down the green and the train would pass on. The neighbors got a bang watching Tom hop and skip across the field when they heard an engine’s toot toot.

About a block from our house on Dierick Street was the volunteer fire engine house. When a fire broke out the one who discovered the fire would ring the fire bell and volunteers would come running, pull the hose cart to the fire which was usually too late to save anything except surrounding buildings. The firehouse was at the dead end of Holgate Avenue and the electric single track car line ran up to it. The car would be operated from either end by the motorman, so that when he got to the end of the line all that he had to do was turn his trolley around and be all set for the return trip.

Which calls to mind the time on one Halloween night as I came out of the house to join the kids at play under the arc lights, I spotted a can lying in the gutter. Upon investigation it turned out to be a can of lard. It was a large can nearly full and must have fallen from a passing truck. I called the kids. What to do? On Halloween night and with a can of lard? So we started out on a greasing expedition. First we greased the car tracks for about half a block. When the car came and the motorman applied the brakes his car wouldn’t stop and skidded into the firehouse door. When he turned his trolley and tried to pull out, his car just skidded on the greased track. The neighbors finally got a barrel of salt from old Adam Clare’s grocery nearby and got the car going. Aside from the car tracks, we greased everything in sight – trees, fences, Hitchingposts, windows, the community water pump – everything. Next morning there was a little boy carrying a bucket of hot water, a scrub brush and rags under the eyes of his mother cleaning up the mess. The little boy was me. I had been spotted by one of the neighbors and was made to clean up the mess.

Adam Clare who ran the grocery was an odd character. He only carried staple items in his store – bread, butter, sugar, salt, coffee, tea, crackers in a barrel and cheese – no meats. We ran a weekly account on tab. At the end of the week Adam would make out the bill, put it in an envelope, address it, place a stamp on it, then deliver it himself. His wife was almost totally blind and we would hammer out white pennies and when she was in the store try to pass them off for nickels.

Stardust Stories: John Charles Weaver – Part 3

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Mar 242010

MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY JOHN CHARLES WEAVER (Part 3)

The first few years of my childhood are very vague to me. I can only recall a few scattered episodes. Such as the time I was peeved at something and decided to leave home. I would hike over to my Aunt Bessie’s who lived close by. Aunt Bessie O’Connor was just over from Ireland and I remember my mother telling how she would never go to church because she thought that the priest should come to the house and say Mass as they did in Ireland. Her rosary was always in her hand. (Incidentally she was the aunt of Officer Grover O’Connor of the Dayton police force and my fourth cousin). Then I remember going to the drug store with a note to get a bottle of whiskey for my Uncle Jim – my mother’s brother who was ill with tuberculosis. He would mix the whiskey with Phillips Emulsion of Cod liver Oil as a tonic. Uncle Jim was living with us at the time. My mother was deathly afraid of the disease and I was constantly being dosed with a spoonful of the medicine without the whiskey.

Then I remember a Christmas Eve when Santa Claus came – only be wasn’t dressed like Santa – just some old clothes and he brought along his wife, Snicklefritz, who was wrapped in a sheet and looked more like a ghost. Scared to death I stammered out some prayer at my mother’s knee – but I got a tricycle.

I remember it was good for a spanking if you referred to your father as “my old man” or your mother as “my old woman”. It had to be Papa or Mama.

There was a road that ran through the field and at quitting time those who had bicycles would race down the road to Dietrick Street. One evening I was coming home from a fishing trip. It was quitting time at the factory and the men on their bicycles were racing down the road. I was walking backwards as I watched them racing and I did not notice the farmer driving a team of horses hitched to a wagon. He was evidently dozing and did not see me. The nose of one of the horses knocked me down as I backed into them and the horses and wagon passed over me. My father racing down the street saw what happened and was soon on the scene. But horses and wagon passed over me without my receiving a scratch and the farmer drove complacently on – the only damage was a broken fishing pole. Guardian Angel must have been on the job.

The open field in front of the houses on Dietrick Street was the ideal spot for carnivals and circuses. I remember the occasion when the Barnum and Bailey circus came to town. In those days they had advance crews come and prepared the field in advance of the circus date. The three rings were formed out of mounds of dirt forming a ring. They dug a deep hole to make a pool for the diving act. Once when the advance crew came I was watching the workers put up the tents and the head man asked me to carry water for the workers. For two days I carried water and on the day of the circus I was given a ticket to the main show and the side show and a dollar spending money. I was the envy of all the kids. That hole in the ground remained full of water for years and became a breeding spot for frogs and the mounds that made the rings were the nesting spot for yellow jackets. The rings were honeycombed with their nests. We kids would tease them out of their nests and then with faces covered with netting we would kill them off with paddles. Then when all the bees were killed we would rob the nest of its honey.

I recall a song we used to sing called the “Birdies’ Ball” and went like this:

Spring once said to the nightingale
I mean to give you birds a ball.
So the nightingale asked the birdies all
The birds and the birdies great and small

Soon they came from each bush and tree
Singing sweet their songs of glee
Soon they came from each cozy nest
Each one dressed in his Sunday best.

The wren and the woodpecker danced for life
The awkward owl and the bashful jay
Wished each other a very fine day.

They danced all day till the sun was low
And the mother birds prepared to go
When one and all both great and small
Flew home to their nests from the birdies ball.

Another song was about the fingers and went like this:

(Holding the thumb) Thumbkins says I’ll dance, thumbkins says I’ll sing
Dance and sing ye merry little men.
Thumbkins says I’ll dance and sing.
(Holding index finger) Pointer says I’ll dance,
Pointer says I’ll sing
Dance and sing ye merry little men.
Pointer says I’ll dance and sing
(Holding the middle) Tall man says I’ll dance,
Tall man says I’ll sing
Dance and sing ye merry little men.
Tall man says I’ll dance and sing.
(Holding next finger) Middle man says I’ll dance,
Middle man says I’ll sing.
Middle man says I’ll dance and sing.
(Holding little finger) Little man says I’ll dance,
Little man says I’ll sing and dance.
Dance and sing ye merry little men.
Little man says I’ll dance and sing.
(Holding up all fingers) All men say they’ll dance.
All men say they’ll sing.
Dance and sing ye merry little men.
All men say they’ll dance and sing.

These and many other songs of a similar nature we sang as we gathered about the piano almost every evening. Papa was forever composing music and many of the songs we sang were of his composition and he was forever writing poetry.

Stardust Stories: John Charles Weaver – Part 2

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Mar 232010

Stardust Stories: John Charles Weaver – Part 2

MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY JOHN CHARLES WEAVER (Part 2)

There is little that I know about my baby and childhood days. I know that I was born, because I am here. So must have had a father and mother who would be my parents. And they too a father and a mother who would by my grand-parents. That’s as far back as I intend to delve into posterity. So I’ll begin my autobiography from there.

John Fitzmaurice came to this country from Ballyduff County, Kerry, Ireland about 1850. Landed in New York and migrated west to Florence Ohio where he set up a boot making shop. Here he met Margaret McCarthy, fell in love and they were married in the Church of the Visitation in the nearby town of Eaton, Ohio March 11, 1858. They had ten children: Hannora, Ellen, Mary, Rose and Lucy (wins), Margaret, James, Elizabeth, Theresa and Johanna. What did the future have in store for them? Here is a brief resume:

Hannora married Jack Manley who drank too much. Ellen married George A. Weaver a carriage maker. Mary married C.D. Wetzel a saloon keeper who died and she then married Jack McFadden an electrical worker. Rose married Joe Kernan a laborer. Lucy married Clarence Willson a last maker. Margaret married John Baker a saloon keeper. James never married and died at age 30. Elizabeth never married and died in her twenties. Theresa married Timothy Larkin a core maker. Johanna died at the age of four years. Ellen who married George Weaver became my mother. There were five children born of this marriage: Margaret, who died at the age of three, John, Eva, George, and Leonard who died at the age of three.

All of my aunts and uncles on both sides of our family have passed away. So I have no living aunts or uncles. So my mother was Ellen Agnes Fitzmaurice and my father was George Anthony Weaver better known as Chick, the life of the party. According to the ethics of that period for an Irishman to marry other than an Irishman was treason and my father was a German and for a German to marry an Irish girl was VERBOTEN.

My grandfather, Charles Weaver, came from Germany and was as dutch as sauerkraut. He came to this country to escape service in the German army, for every male twenty-one years of age had to serve for three years. My own father says that he then changed his name from Weber to Weaver so as to conceal his identity, since the German monarchy considered every German of any country still one of its citizens and subject to German discipline and army service. There were eight boys and two girls in my father’s family: Edward, Andrew, Frank, George, Philip, Louis, Albert, William, Katherine and Clara. All have passed on.

My father was called “Chick” Weaver and was generally the life of the party since he could play the piano and sing. He also played the bass viol. He was also an actor in the Cathoia Gezeklen Verien – a German organization on Montgomery Street in east Dayton near Trinity Church. So my yen for dramatics must have been inherited from him. He was organist and choir director of Emmanuel Church for many years.

My mother was a good but proud woman – proud of her family and carried herself in a queenly fashion. “She reminds him of the queenly bearing of the Astors and Vanderbilts of Fifth Avenue, New York.” She was her own dressmaker. She was a cook par excellence; a master of the cooking art. My mother said that when she first saw my father she thought he was the homeliest man she ever met.

When the Weaver clan got together, which was at least once a year, especially at picnics in Ebby’s Woods along the Miami River for birthdays, etc., it was a regular German bill – singing German songs as they guzzled a glass of beer.

Now that I have established the authenticity of my ancestors and the fact that my parents were George Anthony Weaver and Ellen Agnes Fitzmaurice and that on January 22, 1884 a son was born to them and was given the name of John Charles Weaver, I am ready to begin. At the time of my birth they were living at 47 Costello Street in that section of Dayton, Ohio named “Brown Town”. I was their second child – the first a girl named Margaret died in early childhood about three years old.

I was baptized by Father Charles Hahn in Emmanuel Church. My godparents were my Uncle Edward Weaver and my Aunt Mary Fitzmaurice (my father’s brother and my mother’s sister.) My Aunt Mary was married twice, first to C.D. Wetzel who died and then to John McFadden – all are now deceased.

Speaking of Emmanuel Church, Germans went to German churches and schools. You had to learn both English and German. The pastor would preach a Sunday sermon in German and then follow it with a sermon in English. World War I settled that and the people were told to learn to accept English or else. When necessary confessions ere heard in German. During World War I a mammoth American flag was flown between the spires of Emmanuel church. Father Seabird was the all – American pastor.

Stardust Stories: John Charles Weaver – part 1 (GeneaPopPop)

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Mar 222010

MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY JOHN CHARLES WEAVER (Part 1)

“That’s enough. Go to your seat. You should be ashamed of yourself,” came the commanding voice of Sister Mary Thomas from behind the screen where she was prompting. I was reluctant to be in the school’s yearly entertainment program. I didn’t mind being with a group, but this time I was expected to face the audience alone and speak my part. After much urging, I did manage to commit my part to memory and could deliver the lines for Sister privately.

Came the day for the presentation and my cue to speak. So there I stood with the American flag unfurled about me. I bravely announced, “Our Flag” as the title of my essay. Then I began, “Rally round the flag, boys. Give it to the breeze. That’s the banner we love on the land and seas.” That’s as far as I got. I was distracted by the antics of Ed Brady, the school’s problem pupil who was sitting on the window sill in the rear of the auditorium, and with his fingers was distorting his features into grotesque monkey shines. He caught my eye and I forgot my lines. Sister would prompt. I would repeat them, but after several repetitions Sister gave up, took the flag from me and sent me to my seat.

That was seventy years ago and I have no doubt that Sister Mary Thomas is looking down in disbelief as she sees her reluctant pupil doing an about-face and taking a prominent part in organizing, directing and acting in amateur dramatic presentations. Organized, directed and acted with the St. James Players and over a period of the years captured all the trophies offered for best all-around production. Organized, directed and acted in the Dayton Chapter Blackfriars Guild a unit in the National Organization a movement originated by Rev. Urban Nagle, O.P. and Rev. Gilbert Hartke, O.P. of Catholic University. They later became associated with the Catholic Theater Conference. Our work in Dayton, Ohio impressed Father Nagle and he gave me special mention in his book “Behind the Mask.”

The organization of the Dayton Blackfriars Guild was accomplished without the aid of a financial angel. Director or personnel received no monetary remuneration. From the above evidence of my dramatic activities you can well see why Sister Mary Thomas might be flabbergasted. The Guild is now in its twenty-seventh year of continuous operation. I dwelt with it first because I think it played an important role in my dealing with people of various temperaments, nationalities, age, and sex in my supervising capacities.

I am married, eighty-four years old. My wife is the same age. We had seven children, five living, and twenty-seven grandchildren. My wife is a good cook so I don’t have to worry about an ulcerated stomach.

My father was a carriage maker and he tried to guide me into the same channel but my heart was set on the electrical field. I eventually got a job with an electrical contracting firm wiring houses. I accepted an offer to work for the General Electric Company installing electrical equipment on traction cars. I accepted assignments in Niles, Ohio, then Lansing and Detroit, Michigan. The assignment was completed and I returned to Dayton. I obtained a fob with the Apple Electric Company making electric motors and generators for automobiles where after two years I became foreman. When the Apple Electric sold to Splitdorf Company of Newark, New Jersey I was asked to come along – moving expenses paid. I consented and moved to Newark. After one year I resigned and took a position with the Crocker Wheeler Company of Ampere, New Jersey. After about ten months I resigned to take a job with the Diehle Electric Company of Elizaberth, New Jersey. I was making these changes for the purpose of getting experience and jobs were to be had in most of the electrical plants in the East.

As an extra activity I sold I.C.S. Courses on a part – time basis. Upon the urgent request of my parents in Dayton I accepted an offer of a position in the experimental laboratories of the John O. Heinze Company of Springfield, Ohio which was close to my hometown of Dayton, Ohio. There, while on a visit through the plant, my former employer Mr. V. G. Apple, spotted my and it was not long until I was back in Dayton working in Mr. Apple’s experimental laboratories.
While working at the Apple Laboratories I prepared to enter the electrical contracting business with an Uncle who was an experienced electrician. WE eventually established the McFadden and Weaver Electrical Contractors Company and combined it with a hardware store. To cut down overhead, I sold Wearever Aluminum as a home demonstration salesman. Business disagreements led to a sell – out and we quit business.

I obtained a job with Delco Products, a division of General Motors, as foreman in the Armature Department. After two years I was promoted to general foreman of Armature and Stator building with over 350 employees. I remained at Delco for twenty-five years when I retired at age sixty-seven.

During my last year at Delco I equipped my garage to establish an electric motor repair shop, so I would have something to keep me busy after retirement. I operated my one-man repair shop for seventeen years. The limitations of advanced years caused me to heed competent advice and close shop.

My principle active sport was, until a few years ago, tennis. But I follow baseball, basketball, football and sports in general although because of my age I’ll settle for croquet as an active sport.

So now retired from retirement, I want something to which I can devote my time. I feel that with the experience I have had in a variety of occupations, I might have enough background material from which to glean some interesting episodes if I can put them in writing. I am not concerned primarily in financial returns, although it would be welcome. I just want to keep busy.

Family Tree Recipes (GeneaPopPop)

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Mar 212010

Today, among my wife’s cookbooks, I discovered a gem – a booklet of recipes issued for the 1990 Weaver Annual Reunion (12 August 1990).

The center fold was a five generation Weaver family tree. (I removed the names of spouses and children the bottom of the tree.)

My favorite recipe in the 24 page booklet came from Marc who was, as you can see, only 4 years old.
1 BOXFULL, Jello
Cottage Cheese
1/2 full Cool Whip
1 canfull Mandarin oranges
Put Jello in it and chill for 1 hour

One family member who claimed that she “doesn’t cook” added this RECIPE FOR A HAPPY FAMILY:
Take – 1 small home
Add – 1 bride & groom
Stir in – 7 children ( one at a time)

Mix well with laughter and tears.
Blend all together, and falvor with a sprinkling of in-laws.

Result: a Weaver Reunion

The back cover contained the final gem: GRANDPA WEAVER’s TOAST AT FAMILY MEALS:

Here’s to those we love
Here’s to those who love us
Here’s to those who love them that we love,
And to those who love them who love us.

WDYTYA3 – Lisa Kudrow (GeneaPopPop)

1910 Census. genealogy, Lisa Kudrow, story, WDYTYA 1 Response »

Mar 192010

I just finished watching the latest WDYTYA. There was much less genealogical research and much more story arising from the facts that were found. This edition of WDYTYA confirms what many of us who are more family historian than genealogist seek in our research – namely, the stories behind the research. Uncovering a few facts that lead to a convincing story is far more satisfying than facts that only lead to a research log.

I found myself moved from tears of sadness (as Lisa read the account of the murder and burning of the Jews of Ilya) to the warmth of a whole body smile as she talks to Tomek, and then the gentle tears of joy as Lisa’s father and Boreslav get connected via a video call. This is the ‘payoff’ that many of us seek – taking scraps of a family’s remembered story and building upon it… adding story to story… finding new chapters and new character in the story… and finally being able to tell a new, expanded story.

The research, the hard search for accurate facts, the hours spent at the computer or in the county court house, organizing files and photos, documenting sources, filling out family group sheets, and so much more is all worth the effort when they lead to a new and improved version of the story. Of course, the new version of the story is not always as gut-wrenching as Lisa Kudrow’s, and it doesn’t have to have a happy ending. Because the story, in and of itself, is enough when it is my story… our story!

I enjoyed the first two editions of WDYTYA as a genealogist / family historian. I watched tonight’s edition first and foremost as a human being. I found my heart singing along with the music at the end.

Another Piece of the Puzzle – Grace Ada Brenner

Brenner surname, Erie Railroad, Erie Railroad and Employee Magazine, Mieding surname, Youngstown OH No Responses »

Mar 182010

Grace Ada (Brenner) Mieding (1889 – 1985) was my grandmother.

Recently, I found a transcription of her death certificate online. Until that time, I was unaware that she had been a secretary for the railroad at one point in her life. I have not yet seen a copy of the actual certificate, just the online transcription. Ohio death certificates use two generic categories to describe a person’s occupational background. For Grandma, the “Industry of Decedent” lists “Railroads” and the “Occupation of Decedent” lists “Secretaries.”

Earlier this week, I was able to fill in a little more of the story. While conducting an advanced Google search for my Grandfather, George Henry Brenner (Grace’s husband), I had the serendipity of finding three entries in the index of the Erie Railroad and Employee Magazine. The listing that registered in my Google search was a news item about Grace’s marriage to George (29 September 1909). Since this was an index, not a copy of a magazine issue, I saw the two additional listings for Grace Mieding. (I probably would have missed all three of these entries if I were searching for Grace, because they had her surname spelled incorrectly, reversing the ‘i’ and e’- “Meiding.”) The February 1909 index simply indicated that Grace visited Cincinnati.

The final listing was the prize. The January 1907 issue of the magazine contained a picture of Grace, as a member of the Clerks Association in the Mahoning Division of the railroad. At the time of the picture Grace would have been 17 years old. The index lists her as a “Shop Clerk.” In February 1909, she is listed as a Stenographer in the Chief Car Inspectors Division; in October 1909, Stenographer in the Joint Car Inspectors Division.

I’m not sure how much longer my Grandma worked for the railroad after her marriage, but I am pretty sure that she wasn’t employed outside the home after my Dad was born in 1912.

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