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…
It’s amazing what is waiting to be found on Ancestry.com. Yesterday afternoon while snooping into Gary’s side of the family, I happened upon the murder of Peter Schmitt. A two-dollar murder. We’ve already talked about Gary’s great-grandpa Henry Schum, who was murdered in 1909. Fourteen years later, there was another murder in the family, this one farther out in the family tree. Peter Schmitt grew up on a farm outside of Ferdinand. Born in 1879, he was the fourth of…
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…
To know her was to love her. Sister Sylvia reminded me so much of my dear great-aunt Sr. Amabilis. It was uncanny. Both teachers, deeply religious, tiny, and loads of fun. I met Sister Sylvia about 30 years ago at a tourism meeting. She was smart, kind, and sort of sassy. Her home was on the hill in Ferdinand, at the Monastery Immaculate Conception. She was their Minister of Hospitality. A few years later, we built a big new roller…
Today was the day. Time to head to the county courthouse for a little prick in the arm. The entire process took less than half an hour. Checked in, secured a second Covid vaccine appointment, got my “Fauci Ouchie,” and went into the rotunda to sit in a chair for 15-minutes, just in case. And whom should I run into? Why, it’s Mr. Lincoln! As must as I’d like to have sat next to him, Abraham and I agreed that…
“I live for death.” Gary says that with a twinkle in his eye, when he tells me he’s heading to a funeral home yet again. He never misses the local radio newscast, which ends with obituaries. It’s the first page he turns to when the newspaper is delivered. Always has been, Gary wants to know who died. He wants to pay his respects. He wants to tell stories. My husband will go to the funeral home when so many others…
Remember the panic about the H1N1 flu a decade ago? There was good reason for that. The first time H1N1 struck was back in 1918. In the U.S., it was originally detected among military personnel, in the spring of that year. The Centers for Disease Control (CDC) estimates one-third of the world’s population was infected (about 500 million) by what was then called the Spanish Flu. There were at least 50 million deaths. The death toll included Private John Henry…
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…