When my sister-in-law told me she had a boyfriend, I was taken aback. Linda quickly assured me, though, that her admirer was a hard-headed, well … rock. My brother Harry good-naturedly explained further: A few years ago I wrote a story inspired by Linda’s dalliances. She passed on your request for the story, & I’m happy to oblige. Although it’s fiction, the rock itself & the conflict between whimsical hikers & the humorless land trust is real. As you can…
Thanks to my second-cousin Mark, I just came upon a dozen or more poems Grandpa Vayo wrote shortly after he relocated to Paducah in 1926. He was the new Advertising Manager at the J.A. Rudy & Sons department store. Grandpa must have been so lonely! Paducah, Kentucky, is far away from Brewer, Maine. And this was a century ago. It was months before Grandma traveled all those miles to marry him on Thanksgiving Day. A poet, musician, and artist, Grandpa…
This is a tough one. Remember Galen Veayo? He was a Purple Heart recipient in World War II for injuries suffered in the Battle of the Bulge. Galen and Dad were second cousins. Galen had a twin sister, Oleavia. They were born in Ontario in 1920 and grew up in Bangor, Maine. Oleavia graduated from high school in 1939. Although she did not have a senior picture (nor did Galen), this yearbook blurb gives us some insight: Oleavia Veayo is…
It’s weird to think that the town where I got my first driver’s license is now the nation’s top implementer of roundabouts. There’s one of those roundabouts under construction about a dozen miles north of us, causing all sorts of delays. Traffic jams all summer long (one driver fell asleep at the wheel waiting to be flagged through). Back when I was ready for my license, we lived in Carmel, Indiana. No roundabouts then; plenty now. Back in 1974, it…
When we moved to Indiana in 1973, I innocently believed the Ku Klux Klan was a thing of the past. That is, until a trick-or-treater arrived at our door wearing a white robe and hood. When I questioned the young boy, he replied with a racist slur. I hollered and he ran off … In college, I remember learning about the 1915 silent film The Birth of A Nation. We were taught it was a technical breakthrough, a landmark in…
This story is dedicated to anyone who has ever become frustrated working on a family tree: Don’t give up. A year ago, we put together the story of Harry M. Nightingale. He fought – and died – in World War I. His connection to our family tree is through his widow’s second husband. We’re family. Harry wrote an incredible letter home while overseas. His mom gave it to the local paper to share with its readers. (That letter is reprinted…
The term “cousin bait” is intriguing. What it means, in my case anyway, is that a magnificent bonus while researching your family tree is connecting with a living relative you’ve never met. One example is second-cousin Richard, from Grandpa Cassidy’s side of the family. Another is third-cousin Irishman Adrian, who recognized a painting of his family’s homestead during an online search, which led him to this blog. And now … way over on the other side of our family tree…
He was assigned the rank of Musician in the U.S. Army when he enlisted from York County, Maine, during the Spanish American War. I asked Farmer Gary, who reads a lot of military-history books, if that meant he was a drummer. “Bugler, probably,” was his reply. That makes sense. From the start, I’ll confess to not (yet) finding a place for Augustus in our family tree. The more I dig around, though, the more it becomes clear his story is…
Nowadays, some tuck away good ideas and clever sayings on Pinterest. Others create a Vision Board to manifest their personal future. A hundred years ago, though? My grandpa had a Clippings Book. This 6″x9″ idea keeper is a scrapbook, really. It’s fascinating to gently leaf through the brittle pages and see what was important to Grandpa as a young man. Dad’s dad (my Grandpa Vayo, see The family scholar for his story) was born in Maine in 1899. As a…
My sister-in-law Linda sent me this video from Sunday. It was the final song of the service at their church that morning in Waterville, Maine. That’s her husband, my oldest brother Harry, singing this painful song: The Streets of Minneapolis, music and lyrics by Bruce Springsteen Note: Click the “cc” at the top-right (on your phone) or bottom (on your desktop) of the video screen to see the lyrics. I asked Harry if he was okay with me sharing the…