Interesting idea: Think back on your life and then list things you only did once. Mom came up with her list two days after she turned 78. I remember hearing about a few of these, but there are definitely some mysteries. Some Things I Only Did Once Some things I only did oncetook a balloon ridemade baklavapainted our daughter’s roomtraveled to the top of a mountainand the bottom of the seaice skated in my grandmother’s drivewaychewed tobacco on the back…
Admittedly, my approach to genealogy is scattershot. Whether it’s an interesting photo, one of Mom’s poems, or a geographic location, when something interesting catches my eye, that’s the rabbit hole we scamper down for hours and sometimes days. And then there are the overriding questions about our ancestors’ origins. Case in point: How far back on Dad‘s side of the family must we go to find ourselves in France? We know they came to Maine by way of Canada several…
I’m not sure any one piece of paper ever made me as sad as this. It’s the receipt from my Uncle Robert’s grave: The receipt’s date is June 3, 1929. The amount of $2.00 would cover the care of the infant’s grave. Another $10 was paid the next day to Edward McCarthy, who dug the tiny grave. If that’s not sad enough, there was a note from one of Dad’s sisters in his wooden keepsake box. It explained that Grandpa…
While fluffing out Dad‘s side of the family tree this week, I came across an interesting fellow by the name of Harry Melbourn Nightingale. He was born in New Brunswick, Canada, on August 21, 1883. One of 11 children to Enoch and Martha. The family immigrated to Maine in 1890 and settled in Aroostook County. Harry went to school, grew up, labored sometimes as a farmer and sometimes “in the woods.” He worked at several shoe shops and the Turner…
My brothers and I grew up watching Captain Kangaroo. Good morning, Captain! The Captain was a smiling fellow, with big pouchy pockets in his coat (hence the moniker). Every once in a while, he still shows up in social media: When I saw the “Who Wore It Better?” meme a year or so ago, I emailed my brothers to see what they recalled about The Captain. Something we all remembered was that Mom once met him. But not one of…
Another discovery! First it was the Bangor High School yearbook from 1917, the year leading up to Grandpa Vayo’s graduation. Here’s his senior photo along with a memorable blurb: We’ve already seen Grandpa’s high school artwork in an earlier version of The Oracle (apparently, there were monthly editions to highlight the students’ talents). In that edition, Dad’s father displayed his comic chops. In this edition, though, Grandpa appears to be tip-toeing into the water a half century before a future…
Ever since I saw this woman’s name and added her to our family tree, that song from Hamilton has haunted my brain. Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton sing this duet as a lullabye to their newborns, Theodosia and Philip: But who was our Theodocia? She was born in Brookfield, Massachusetts, just eight years after the end of the Revolutionary War. She was one of ten children born to Jacob and Lois. Her siblings carried such names as Ebenezer, Sewell, and…
Now that I’m buckling down and finally watching the tutorial videos Ancestry.com provides, I’ve learned the fancy genealogical terms “brick wall” and “breakthrough.” And so, with a bit of a blush and definite tongue-in-cheek, I must proclaim: We’ve scaled the brick wall and experienced a breakthrough! Let’s go back a week, when the luck of the Irish arrived via an email. It was Adrian (who, it turns out, is my third cousin), who had wandered across this blog post from…
After a loved one dies, it’s a great relief to dream about them. I seem to dream about Mom and Dad just a few times a year. It always feels current, yet back in time. That way about dreams that’s only confusing after you awaken. In the dream, I proclaim joyfully that Mom is able to walk steadily again, as in her pre-Parkinson’s days. I hug her repeatedly. We prepare a meal together; it’s always a family gathering. I wake…
This is a tough one. Yes, it happened a long time ago, but it still warrants a trigger warning. This story involves Dad’s side of the family. His grandfather was George Vayo, whose mother was Olive Lambert Vayo. Olive was born in Orono, Maine, in March of 1854. Five years later, her sister Ada was born. This is Ada’s story. Adelaide Lambert was only six years old when her mother passed away at the age of 36. By the time…