It always shocks me to come upon a family story that follows our current news cycle. Maybe it shouldn’t. It’s taken me a few weeks to piece this together – and there are still some lingering questions. But here is the story of Vetal Pooler, Jr. First of all, let me share that I’ve learned from several genealogists’ tutorials recently that the spelling of names didn’t really matter until the 1930s. Shocking, I know! That knowledge, though, helps in the…
Felix was born in Canada. He grew up in Maine. Felix served in the Army. He’s buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Who was Felix? He was the middle of five Vayo brothers, born just over two years after great-grandpa George Vayo. Of the five brothers, four were born in Maine. Felix, however, was born in Canada. Try as I might, I can’t figure out why. His mother, Olive, was born in Maine. His father, Joseph, was born in Quebec but…
Back when Farmer Gary and I announced our engagement (just-in-time-for-Christmas, 1981), so many of my relatives and college friends chimed in, “My grandparents were farmers!” or “My great-uncle grew up on a farm!” Suddenly, the world was one big farm. I’m experiencing the same with Gary’s family tree. Every ten years, the census report announces this ancestor or that was a farmer. Their children were “farm laborers.” Farmers everywhere! It took a half-second longer than it should have for me…
Let me admit up front to taking more than a few minutes to decide whether to name this post “The Sisters” or “The sisters.” Because this is the story of two sisters who chose to live their lives as Sisters. The past month or so, I’ve dug in on Farmer Gary‘s side of the family. Specifically, after his godmother Stella’s funeral, her sister Marie gave us a packet of information Stella’s late husband, Arch, had collected over the decades. Arch…
Farmer Gary’s grandfather on his dad’s side was George Werne. A good name. The name George means “farmer.” The farmland we live on now – and on which Gary continues to grow crops – was once farmed by George. He bought the “home place,” which was 40 acres, from his parents and later added the “back 40,” where Gary and I built our home and raised our family. George added to the property over the years, bringing the total to…
“Are you saying my grandfather was an arsonist?” No, Dad, I can’t image that’s the case. But this Boston Herald article from 1896 sure seems to stir the pot … “Oh, boy! Ever since I was I kid, I’d hoped there was a criminal somewhere in our family tree! Not a murderer, of course. But maybe a stage-coach robber.” Gosh, you think you know somebody. I’d purposely held off telling Dad about the article in the Boston Herald‘s archives that…
Exploring the many branches of our family tree (another retirement project) is fascinating. Some of those limbs, though, are rather gnarly. Let’s get right to it: There was a murder in Ferdinand back in 1909. Gary‘s great-grandfather on his mom’s side, Henry Schum, was killed while trying to break up a drunken brawl. Note: I’m hoping enough time has passed that I won’t offend anyone by mentioning the coinciding murder of the English language. Coverage of the patriarch’s death unfurled…