Veterans Day: Thanks to Those Who Serve

One of the aspects of my ongoing genealogy project (11 years and counting!) that I enjoy is researching the military service records of those ancestors who served their country. On Veterans Day, it seems appropriate to mention a few of them:

• My dad, Alvin Barcheski, served in the US Air Force in the early 1950’s and was stationed in Casablanca (Morocco) from 1953-54. A true treasure among his possessions is a photo album that gives a thorough chronicle of his time in that country.
• My maternal grandfather, Barney Craft, served in World War I and was sent to France. He returned safely and was forever asking his grandchildren, “Par le vous Francaise?” I still have his uniform.
• My maternal great-great-grandfather, William Thornburg, served in the Civil War and was wounded in the hip (or “shot in the ass,” as my husband likes to say) at Parker’s Cross Roads, TN in December, 1861. Thanks to military history books and his service record, I’ve got a very complete picture of his years of service.

One of the connections I’m still researching? There’s a possibility that I am descended from General Hugh Mercer, who served under George Washington in the Revolutionary War. I do not say this lightly – I’m still trying to prove it, as doing so would qualify me for full membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution.

I would also be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge two living family members who served: My husband, Steve, who entered the US Marine Corps in 1967 and served in Viet Nam from 1968-69; and my father-in-law, Art Green, who served in the US Navy during World War II.

Each of these veterans, and their millions of American brethren who have served or are still serving, have my heartfelt thanks – today and every day.

photo from www.maps-inc.org.

Pocket watch is link to family past

I have been thinking about and connecting with Sarah’s post this week about “guilt items” – those things you keep out of guilt or a sense of duty, even though you don’t want them. I can be absolutely brutal when it comes to tossing or giving away items that I’ve personally acquired, but it’s harder for me to let go of things that have come down through the family. I understand Sarah’s compromise – she’s keeping one of several similar items made by her grandfather, and letting the rest go to auction – but I also know that 100 years from now, a precious few artifacts may be all that remain of an ancestor to say “I was here” to the future family history buff.  Speaking as that history buff for my family, I can say without hestitation that every item that survives is truly a treasure.

This past Sunday when I was visiting my dad, we ended up taking on a really interesting project: going through his jewelry box, looking for treasure. There were a few things he wanted to be sure to give me: a pocket watch he said had been mine when I was younger (more on that in a moment), some costume jewelry that belonged to his mother, and generally anything I found in the jewelry box(es) that I wanted to keep. It was a wonderful couple hours of “Ooo where’d you get this?” and “Where’d that come from?”

The pocket watch is an interesting story: Dad found it in his jewelry box a few weeks ago, and determined that it had my birth initials, J.B., engraved in script lettering on the cover. He determined that it must have been mine, and today he gave it back to me. The only trouble was, I didn’t remember ever owning it – or ever having seen it. It looked very old, and I thought perhaps the “JB” actually referred to one of his uncles back in Pennsylvania. My husband theorized that maybe a relative had bought the watch for me when I was very little, intending that I should have it when I was older, but that it was simply never given to me. This would explain why my initials were on it, as well as why I didn’t remember ever owning it.

When I got it home, I did a little closer inspection. The name in script on the face of the watch reads, “C.A. Cole, Winterset.” That made it more likely that it came from my mother’s side of the family, as her ancestors were all from Winterset. I did a little Googling, and learned that there was indeed a Winterset jeweler name Clarence Adrian Cole who was a watch- and clock-maker. But, he had left Winterset and moved to Florida in 1909. Since this was long before I was ever a sparkle in anyone’s eye, it didn’t seem likely that the watch had been purchased with me in mind.

Then I took a closer look at the engraved script initials. It turns out that they are not “J.B.,” they are “I.B.” We were mistaking the script capital “I” for a “J,” but finally determined that it doesn’t have the bottom loop of a typical cursive “J.”

At that point I realized immediately who the watch probably belonged to: my great-grandfather Isaac Bardrick, who lived in Winterset much of his life and died there in 1907 – certainly within the timeframe in which C.A. Cole would have been a jeweler there.

My grandmother Verdie, his grand-daughter, once gave me a shoe button hook that he had made as a blacksmith, which I still have. And now I have what I believe to be his pocket watch. Which is really incredible, as it’s likely more than 100 years old. And extra special to me, because finding his gravestone remains one of my favorite cemetery-searching stories along my entire genealogical journey.

Starting your genealogy project: a basic tip sheet

Earlier this week I promised a beginner’s tip sheet on launching a genealogy project. Remember that genealogy is both the search for documentation about family members as well as the gathering of recollections and stories. Larry Lehmer has much better advice than I on the latter, so I’ll focus on the basic tools of gathering and organizing documentation here.

(Note: I began my search with no computer software. I did eventually purchase Family Tree Maker, which I love and highly recommend.)
 
Here’s how I set up my initial project, which continues to this day. It is not the only way to begin, but it has kept me somewhat organized over the years.
 
Step 1. Make it your goal (or at least a pledge) to collect as much actual documentation as you can. It’s not likely you’ll ever need to present your research in any kind of formal or academic way, but people can remember things incorrectly and you’ll want documents that give you the facts as well as people who give you the legends. I work toward getting a birth, marriage and death certificate for every direct ancestor. It’s perfectly fine – encouraged! – to collect them for non-direct ancestors too, such as aunts, uncles and cousins.
 
Birth, marriage and death certificates are generally available from the county in which the event took place, or that state’s archive. This makes acquiring them sound a lot easier than it actually is, but that’s partly what makes this hobby addictive.

Step 2. With your documentation goal in mind, gather two 3-ring notebooks of 3-4 inch capacity, a set of 3 tab dividers for each notebook, and a box of 100 clear plastic page protectors. Label each notebook with the surname of one of your parents, if known. (Adoptees and those with step-parents will have a special and intensely personal decision to make here in as to whether to research adoptive, step, and/or or biological families.)
 
For the tab dividers, one set of three per notebook labeled “Direct Ancestors,” “Non-Direct Ancestors” (these are your aunts, cousins, etc.) and “Unknown” have worked well for me. Put a supply of page protectors in each tab – you’re going to start filling them with documentation!
 
Step 3. Gather the following information, as much as is applicable, about you and each of your parents: birth certificate, marriage certificate, death certificate. Using your computer software (or paper templates if you want to do it the old-fashioned way), start with yourself: create an entry giving as much information as you can based on your own knowledge, others’ recollections, and the documentation.
 
What’s neat about the software is that when you enter a new person into the system, it automatically asks you for that person’s parents’ info as well. It will therefore quickly become obvious that your task is never-ending. This “auto-create” feature is actually endearing at first… but later it can begin to feel like a bit of a nag – “Yes yes, I know you need Susannah Huffman’s parents – but until I can get to Bedfordshire to look at the Parish records, you’re just going to have to wait.”)
 
Step 4. With information about you and your parents now entered, add some sibling information if applicable. Then click around in your software a little and note how the program automatically assigns relationships among individuals (based on your input), building Family Group Sheets for heads of households and other useful lists and charts. You’ll immediately appreciate the automation of those tasks, especially once you get past, say, the second generation.
 
That’s really all there is to it. With these simple tools and tasks assembled and completed, your journey has begun. Hopefully you also have a few stories already collected that you’ve been able to preserve.
 
You’ll now notice that you suddenly have many lifetimes of new information to gather as you answer the perpetual genealogical question: “That’s nice, dear, but who were her parents?”

An Independence Patriot: General Hugh Mercer, 1726-1777

Happy Independence Day!

I considered writing a post full of celebratory sentiments, but decided to go another route instead. I mentioned previously that one of the many “distractions” in my genealogical journey has been the possibility that I may be a descendent of General Hugh Mercer, a Revolutionary War patriot. I thought it might be interesting to personalize this Independence Day by sharing a little of what I’ve learned about Mercer - quite possibly a long-ago grandfather.

Hugh Mercer was born in Aberdeen, Scotland in 1726, graduated as a doctor from the University of Aberdeen, and served as an army surgeon until the Battle of Culledon in 1746. With the fall of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s army in that battle, survivors were considered traitors to the new monarch and Mercer became a fugitive in his own land. He eventually escaped and traveled to America where he served as a Pennsylvania doctor for eight years. He joined the military and was severely wounded in a raid on an Indian village in 1756, and traveled some 14 days to eventual safety despite his wounds and lack of supplies. Rising to the rank of colonel, he met and became close friends with another officer, Col. George Washington. He eventually moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia to once again establish his practice as a physician.

When rumblings began about a fight for American Independence, John Hancock appointed Mercer Brigadier General in the Armies of the United Colonies, and he soon left Virginia to report for duty in the Continental Army. Following the Second Battle of Trenton of January 2, 1777, Mercer’s brigade on January 3 encountered several British units. Outnumbered and thrown from his horse, Mercer attempted to fight one-on-one but was eventually mortally wounded and left to die. Washington’s men carried him to a field hospital where he died nine days later. 

Though Mercer gave his life, this battle enabled Washington to proceed into Princeton and defeat British troops there. Thus spurred by victory, his troops re-enlisted and the French agreed to assist in the fight against the British. Cornwallis retreated, America regained the motivation and the means to fight, and British public support for the war waned – all leading to American victory and independence.

July 4 has traditionally been the day we set aside to recognize that human lives were given – often brutally – to establish our right to exist as an independent nation. This Independence Day, do not let politicians, pundits or those with an agenda dictate your enjoyment of the day. Simply remember, be proud, and be thankful that brave people gave their lives so that we could, quite literally, be free.

Family reunions mean great storytelling

Larry Lehmer notes that summer time is family reunion time which can lead to great stories. We never did family reunions when I was growing up – there just weren’t very many of us on either side since both my parents were only-children and my dad’s family was all in Pennsylvania. I do remember several visits to various family members, though, most of which were the kind of uncomfortable “I’m-a-kid-and-I-don’t-want-these-great-aunts-kissing-on-me” sorts of affairs.

On one trip tp Pennsylvania, I remember my folks talking about “going up the mountain” to visit some cousins. When we got to the cousin’s house, I spent the time catching frogs in their basement window-wells – I was fairly young (grade-school) and had never seen frogs before. I also recall that was the trip where I agreed to give up my favorite dress, a green-and-yellow plaid pinafore that I had outgrown, to my younger cousin – who, I distinctly remember, wet the bed we both were sleeping in.

I’d like to say there were some good stories shared, but the truth is I think it was as much a getting-to-know-you trip for my Mom as well as my sister and I – she was meeting many of them for the first time just as we were.

How about you? Have you attended many family reunions? Any good stories you learned there that you want to share?

Stone hunting for Bardricks in Adair County

Larry Lehmer has a great post about rural cemeteries this week, and it got me thinking about one of my favorite stone-hunting stories.

Grandma Verdie told me that her mother’s parents were buried “in Pitzer Cemetery” in the general vicinity of Winterset and Earlham, Iowa. Wanting to find the gravestone and see the burial site of Isaac Groves Bardrick and his wife, Celestia Brewer Bardrick, I ventured off one day with just an Iowa DOT map to find the cemetery. It wasn’t difficult to find, but after a thorough walk-through I determined that the stone I was looking for wasn’t there. Disappointed, I returned home.

At this time I didn’t fully trust the Internet as a source for genealogical information – everything that’s online, I reasoned, had to be transcribed by an imperfect human, so the chance for erroneous information was high. Also at that time, there wasn’t much even available online. These factors led me to shy away from using the Web as a serious genealogical resource.

Nonetheless, sometime after my attempt to find the Bardricks, I found a notation online which stated that Isaac and Celestia were in fact buried in “Roberts Cemetery,” in Adair County – not Pitzer cemetery in Madison County as Grandma had recalled.

So on another sunny day, I took off again in search of the Bardricks. A librarian in Greenfield (Adair County seat) gave me an imprecise map generally showing where the various cemeteries were located in the county, but this map was a hand-drawn affair with little dots where the cemeteries were. It did not name the cemeteries, or even the roads. She encouraged me to stop at a particular farm and ask the residents there for help, as they were sure to know.

These folks were friendly – but couldn’t direct me. I decided to go on up the road and maybe find someone else to ask. It was mid-summer, and lots of folks who work the land were out and about on various farm tasks so there really was no shortage of people to ask for help. I stopped at a couple places, and finally at one of them someone told me to visit a particular farm where the owner would probably have a spare “plat map” to share with me. It turns out that a plat map is a booklet published by the county that shows who owns each farm, and who resides in each farm house.  The map also showed little crosses where the cemeteries were, but again it did not name them by name. The man who gave me this booklet suggested that I stop by Bill Beaman’s place – Bill had lived in the county “forever” and could probably help me.

Bill Beaman was indeed helpful – he gave me perfect directions to Roberts Cemetery, and the moment I rounded the bend in the road I had a feeling I was in the right place. I stepped out of the car at the foot of the little hill on which the cemetery had been situated and started my walk-through at the west end of it. At the foot of the hill, at the last stone in the second row I walked, was the resting place of the Bardricks. “Ha! Found you,” I told them, and gently brushed away collected grass clippings from the stone.

Twist-to-the-ending #1: As it turns out, the stone here is marked for Celestia Bardrick but her death record shows that she is actually buried in Summerfield, Kansas, where she had traveled after Isaac’s death to live with one of her children. So even though I found them, I still haven’t fully found them.

Twist-to-the-ending #2: upon hearing the name Bill Beaman I immediately recognized it as one I’d heard my husband mention several times. The guy who helped me find my missing great-great grandparents was my husband’s ex-wife’s first ex-husband.

Veering off the main road

I learned one of the core lessons of genealogy very early on: it’s easy to get distracted.

In a moment, you can wander off the main path (looking for direct blood-line ancestors) and start down any number of secondary trails that lead to aunts, uncles, cousins, skeletons-in-closet, or just historical context. One of my primary distractions has been the story of a great-uncle, William E.L. Thornburg, who was involved in a deadly shooting on a country road, following an argument with another man over a woman they both loved. News accounts of his trial report a divided town (was it self defense, as he claimed?), and a hundred years later I’m personally fascinated by the story. My fascination is fueled not only by the details of this particular story, but also because William was something of a rabble-rouser throughout his entire life.

Another major distraction for me has been learning about my great-great-grandfather, also named William Thornburg, who was wounded during the battle of Parkers Cross Roads, TN during the Civil War. I have the requisite copies of his service records, pension application and Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) membership card to tell the story, and I also have in my memorabilia trunk his GAR ribbon and a pair of wooden stirrups that were supposedly his during this time period.

My third major distraction has been the pursuit of a blood link to a Revolutionary War patriot, which would allow me to join the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR). I have a clue that there may be a connection for me somewhere on the Bardrick side, but it’s time-consuming to pursue it – the challenge is compounded by the fact that two brothers apparently named their sons the exact same thing… so with my luck, the patriot connection will end up on the cousin side of the tree. Ah well, at least I’ll have done the legwork for some other lucky woman!

I characterize all of these as distractions, but of course these are the things that bring long-dead ancestors back to life and help me connect to my own history. I don’t begrudge these diversions – I welcome them.

Interviewing relatives is difficult for me

One of the things that’s really hard for me to do in genealogy is to “interview” relatives. I’m actually an experienced interviewer of other people, having been a radio show host and a freelance business writer in previous decades. But those situations are different – you’re expected to get right to the point because everyone’s time is so limited. But there’s something that feels so artificial about sitting my relatives down for the specific purpose of getting them to open up about their pasts – it seems to me that those kinds of stories should come naturally out of a conversation, rather than simply being expected or demanded. My reluctance to ”demand” reminiscences from relatives has made it very difficult for me to collect that kind of information. 

When my grandmother Verdie was alive, I knew she had a ton of great information to share about the small town in which she, my mother, and her ancestors grew up. She also had a very interesting early adult life, having worked here in Des Moines as a cafe waitress and prior to that in an ordnance plant north of town during WWII. I know I didn’t get even a small percentage this information from her, because she was the type of person who didn’t seem all that comfortable reminiscing and who would only answer the question that was put to her instead of adding the kind of extraneous commentary that makes those stories so fascinating. (She would’ve made a great witness in a court case!)

My husband, on the other hand, didn’t bear the burden of feeling like he was giving her the third degree, and he asked her questions willingly, especially about the ordnance plant. I would just sit and listen as he would lead her through stories about her work, glad for the opportunity to listen but also a little jealous that I couldn’t just leave my hang-ups at the door and dive in to such a personal conversation.

I’d love to hear your tips and suggestions for comfortable, compassionate interviews with relatives.

Ten years and counting: my genealogical journey

It occurred to me this weekend, as I traipsed around Winterset Cemetery looking for a needle in a haystack (because the plat office was closed – CLOSED! On Memorial Day!) that I’ve been a genealogist for ten years. I have photos from my first trip (as an adult, anyway) to this very cemetery in the Spring of 1997, showing my three-year-old daughter leaning against a variety of Thornburg headstones.

The beginning of my genealogical journey is bittersweet. In late November, 1996, at the age of 63, my mother (Beverly Ann Thornburg Barcheski) suffered her second heart attack. She spent a week in the hospital, and during that same week my husband and I were preparing to leave for our first Carribean cruise. One night mid-week, I remarked to him that upon our return from vacation I was going to begin researching my family history by talking to my mom about her childhood in Winterset “before it’s too late.”

On Friday, December 6, we traveled to Missouri to drop off our daughter for the week she would spend with her paternal grandparents while we were gone. When we got back from Missouri that night, there was a message from my dad to get to the hospital right away – Mom had collapsed while taking a ’stress test’ before being released to go home, and was in emergency open heart surgery. She did not survive.

A few months later, I began the genealogical journey anyway. Mom’s mother, my grandmother Verdie Elizabeth Thornburg Craft, was alive and well, and gave me glimpses into daily life in Madison County from the beginning of the 20th Century. She was not, as it turned out, willing to talk much about my mother’s childhood, as the birth had been out of wedlock. Since I had not set out to upset my grandmother by delving into topics that she found shameful or resurrecting demons she had spent a lifetime beating back, I determined early on that I would have to find the evidence of Mom’s childhood myself through photos, papers, stories previously shared, and other sources.

Since that time, genealogy has became an obsession – rooting out the names and dates of critical life events for my ancestors, connecting with far-flung cousins (some of whom possess precious antique family photographs!), pouring over brittle old documents in the basements of historic courthouses, wandering through cemeteries large and small in search of a stone with a familiar name.

The identity of my mother’s father remains a mystery and likely always will, but that’s okay. The important thing – at least for me – is not necessarily to collect all the answers. It’s merely to find my place among the characters of the past, and to find the things that make us a family.