Hearts Knit (or Rather "Crocheted") Together in Unity...

courtesy: ColourBox Stock Photo

The Beginning...

Oh how I love going to genealogy conferences! Just three years ago, I emailed a user on FamilySearch seeking information on a special ancestor:

Ishmael Phillips

"Dear Kay ----,

Greetings from a distant cousin if you are descended from Ishmael Phillips. My name is Cassandra, and I obtained your email through Familysearch. Brother Phillips is my 4th great grandfather, and an ancestor I have taken deeper interest in doing background research for. Do you by chance have information on him concerning his early years in England right after he joined the Church? I have scoured the Internet, microfilms, and books for the records I now have, but there is very little which covers his years as a new convert. Thank you for any help you can provide in doing research on Brother Phillips,

Sincerely,

Cassandra"

I received the following reply:

"Cassandra, sorry it has taken me so long to get back to you...[she proceeds to talk about her family in great detail, not uncommon to genealogists :) ]...When I get feeling better and can take time to look in my records, I would be happy to sent you some information about Ishmael.  You are a generation younger than I...I'll be in touch when I can get over this flu bug...Thank you for getting in touch with me.  It's always fun to find a new cousin!

Kay"

We send more messages back in forth, sharing what knowledge we share on our progenitor, the humble and lovable Ishmael Phillips. We decide to meet at RootsTech in February (2015). Since that time, we have met up at three other genealogy conferences, always referring to Ishmael Phillips and our shared love for our grandfather. 

She treated me to dinner (Feb. 2015)

A Miracle...

When Kay first arrived at RootsTech, she was registered for the entire weekend. In a conference hall packed with 20,000 people, she sat down to take a rest. Being the friendly person she is, she struck up a conversation with a kindly mother sitting nearby. They were talking about their ties to Utah when they discovered something they had in common: they had both been in contact with me! She was the mother of a friend from work, and her son and I worked for the same company at the time! Kay took this as a sign that she was in the right place, and our shared interest in Ishmael was no coincidence. She could trust me with handing over any research work she had done for the past 30 years. 

We met later in her hotel room and she shared this story with me. I was agape...what a miracle! For the next 3 hours, she shared stories, documents, and sentiments on our grandfather, and I came to see and appreciate him in a new light. Our shared love for Ishmael turned our own hearts to each other as cousins. 

If I can say one quality I truly admire in Kay, it is her devotion to her family. She talks often about her children, her in-laws, and her grandchildren, almost like they are my own family instead of distant cousins. She is another great aunt to me rather than a 3rd cousin. She stays valiantly by her ailing husband's side as his health problems continue to worsen each year. It has gotten to the point where she may not be able to return next year if his condition become worse. 

Late in the evening this week, I was reflecting on my friendship with Kay. I thought over all the times she bought lunch or dinner for us. I reflected on her selfless act of giving me ALL of her research findings on our grandfather. What have I given her? Does she have a piece of me to remember me by? A thought entered my head, and I stayed awake until 5:00 a.m. working on the project.

After two hours of sleep, I readied for day 3 of the genealogy conference, grabbing my wares and my gift for Kay I made my way to classes. I presented Kay with a crocheted doll of Ishmael Phillips. The love and affection in her eyes was indescribable, it chokes me with emotion now just sharing the experience. 

I love you Kay, I keep you in my prayers. May we meet again soon! I thank God you are a part of my life and share a love for Ishmael only his descendents can appreciate. 

I Thought I Was Saving You, but You Really Saved Me

            

When I was only a teenager, I had a terrifying wake-up call: I realized I truly did not know how to feel empathy for others. The thought worried me, because I felt to that to successfully interact with others, I should at least have this skill under my belt. When I voiced my concern to loved ones, they assured me it was normal. I tried to believe them, but the thought would bother me from time to time for a while to come.

            I tried to abide by an altruistic lifestyle: spending time with family and friends, listening to others when they had problems, donating to my church, etc. I had the basics down, but I really felt I was lacking in really understanding what it was like to walk in the shoes of another. Then, when I was in my early college years, it started: My interest in breaking down and analyzing the lives of those who have passed on.

            I was enveloped in their daily lives: where they worked, who they associated with, who they voted for, what their struggles and triumphs were. All of a sudden, these people came alive from the pages of my newspaper clippings and outlines. Soon, I began to write their stories down and to share them with other family members. My heart started to open up to the experiences, good and bad, that I learned about my ancestors and their families.

I cried when I learned that your second child died when only a wee thing of 2. I felt your pain in learning that mortality is right at your doorstep when you least expect it.

I appreciate you performing your filial duty when you helped your ailing father in caring for your large farm.

I felt your yearning for your sweetheart when he went off to war, the joy and rapture in his return.

I took a moment of silence when I sat by your grave and tried to understand the difficulties of a young amputee with no legs try to find work in during the Great Depression.

You, most of all, I revere. For rising from your family’s stained past and making a life of your own. God bless you in your desires to make your own way and name. 

Cousin to Cousin and Heart to Heart

My first job is in a kitchen

Too often in these modern times, young adults are too busy with their own lives to make room for slower-paced tasks. I am most certainly speaking for myself when I make this claim. I work two jobs and fill my spare time with research, blogging, socializing, and similar activities. Even as a genealogist, I often prefer the fast-paced, forward-moving methods to the pain-staking and slow-paced ones that I save for an occasional Saturday or Sunday.

            Recently, an event took place that got me rethinking my preference for the fast-paced methodology. As it is February, most people interested in genealogy know of RootsTech, a major conference held in Salt Lake City, Utah this time each year. My opportunity finally came as I registered for the 2015 event. Rootstech facilitated a meeting I arranged with a cousin I had been corresponding with for about a month already.

Ishmael Phillips

            Our common ancestor is my fourth-great grandfather, Ishmael Foote Phillips. After looking over the files in my computer I had been gathering sporadically over the past three years, I concluded that Ishmael’s early years in England were severely under-researched. I then reached out online to relatives who knew or had more information and one cousin responded with more exuberance than I anticipated.

            This wonderful lady was a God-send to my present plight. While we were corresponding I had already been conducting background research on the time period Ishmael Phillips spent in England after being baptized into the early Mormon Church. (For more on this story, check out my post on finding his baptism.) Over time, we became more than correspondents with a similar interest in a distant grandfather. Our shared appreciation and love for this man was only the starting point.

            On the Sunday following RootsTech, I arranged to meet with my cousin in her hotel room. What I got from that visit was more than I had bargained for. Not only did she share the findings of her 32-years worth of research, she also told me stories about how she found the information, and she told me about her own family. We truly had a heart-to-heart that many relatives should have with their own family members more often than they do.

            Not only did I find a cousin to stay in touch with, her experiences help me to appreciate more the antiquated methods of research. I too have done my share of scanning microfilms and digging through dusty old manuscripts in archives, but this was her main form of research. The information she had to show was the results of hours of true archive and library hunting. Her interest would envelop more than Ishmael, but she also took interest in his own family: his brothers and sisters, his parents and grandparents. As a result, she has compiled significant information for the American descendants of the Phillips on their British ancestors.

            To my cousin and people like her who labor so diligently in putting together the information she has, I say thank you. I will treasure the information you have shared and use it to add to my own. you also help me to better plan research in the future. From your cousin, God bless you. 

She treated me to dinner

Friday's Faces from the Past: The Last of the Medicine Showmen

This post is dedicated to my 2nd Great Uncle, T. F. "Doc" Dean.

Raised in a family of seven boys, this character "was as gay as the clothes he wore."

This man only knew a life of travel and adventure (for at least the first 50 years or so). His father Harry F. Dean moved the family around between Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, and eventually Colorado and Utah.

When he reached his later teen years, the adventurous Doc signed on with the Army, getting his first stint overseas. After returning to the States from the Philippines, Doc adopted a true life of travel, becoming a performer for the next 30 years. He did everything that involved a stage or tent; he performed in such acts as Vaudeville, showboats, burlesque, and he even ran his own medicine show.

During his years on the road, he met and married his wife Alethea. In the 1920s, they adopted a boy, Robert, who also performed with the family.

Doc would be on the road until World War II broke out. By this point his family settled down in Blytheville, Arkansas, where he and "Mama" would spend their remaining years. Attempting to register for the old man's draft, he was rejected and chose to sell War Bonds at home instead. With a knack for showmanship and winning over large crowds, Doc sold around $16 million in War Bonds, gaining recognition from Henry Morgenthau, Jr. and old FDR himself.

During his retired years, Doc ran a gas station, participated in local minstrels, sold real estate, and even became constable. He passed away in 1967 at a Scout Meeting, doing something he loved dearly.

Although not one of the most prominent showmen of his time, he did make a name for himself in the Midwest and South. He was one of the stalwart Docs who ran his show  until they fizzled out during the 1930s and 1940s. His name Doc stuck with him throughout his life and is still used today.


My favorite Doc Dean quote: "When God made the earth, He made it 70 per cent water and I think by that He meant for me to hunt and fish 70 per cent of the time."

Grandpa's Scandalous Purchase...Anecdote of the Day

Ah, the joy in finding small gems in the family histories you read through. I was amused to find the following anecdote as I was typing up my GG-Grandma Ella's history. The story centers on Ella and her husband David, lending a dash of color to the more pious members of my family tree.

So the tale goes as follows, told by the daughters of Ella and David:

"David, already in Oakland, had bought a rooming house (or Boarding House) and Ella was going to operate it. We stayed at the campground, and the next day Ella, David and I went to see the property David had bought. As we were going through the building Ella got VERY ANGRY..., and she took hold of Maud’s hand and started hurrying them along—cautioning Maud not to touch any of the walls, the doorknobs, or the bannister, and Maud realized Ella was VERY UPSET. Ella wanted us out of the building!!! And out of Oakland as soon as possible!!! I didn't know until years later that the property David had bought was...a house of ill repute, or whatever they called them in those days!..."

"...I have often wondered if my Dad had known about that house all along?? I don’t know how Mother found out what kind of a house it was—maybe the ‘tenants’ were still there? When she told me about it later, she...was very adamant about not telling me any of the details.”

Lesson of the day? Investigate your property before settling on a deal. And let your wife be part of the decision.

Going My Way--72 Years Later

USS Lexington exploding, May 8, 1942

May 1942...

A year not to be forgotten in the annals of American History: The U. S. had been fighting in the Second World War for less than a year, FDR was president during these troubled times, and newspaper headlines were reporting the overseas action on a regular basis. Many families were impacted, my own included--young men responded to the draft and their women left to pray for their safe return...

In the state of Utah, residents were also affected by the impending war...Headlines on May 8, 1942 reported U. S. Navy action with the Japanese, finances tied to military funding, Japanese atrocities in the Philippines, British troops in Madagascar, and many other stories about the war. As the newspaper progresses past world and national news, the reader finally jumps into local happenings. Towards the back of the newspaper is the event nearest and dearest to my heart: the obituary for my 3rd great grandmother, Harriet Lovinia Bowen Leavitt. 

Why would one obituary matter over others in my vast collection of obituaries? Because Grandma Harriet died where I now consider home. Although I did not grow up here, it has been home for six years now; it is here I went to school, found a job, dated, and started building my own life. What makes it most special is it's the city where she spent most of her life and where I first discovered my love of genealogy. 

Grandma came from Iowa, the daughter of prominent Mormon pioneers. After crossing the plains, they settled in my present area. Her husband, who was more than 20 years her senior, preceded her in death by almost 40 years. When Grandma Harriet died, she was currently the oldest women in town, passing away at the age of 97. Rest in peace, sweet lady, I am proud to live in your hometown and walk where you walked. 

Sympathy Saturday: Gone But Not Forgotten--A Poem to the Dean Family

I sit and ponder o'er your life

As by your grave I stand

Of how you brought into this world

The life now in my hand

You came into a muddled world

A small life to begin

Raised by the hands of those who loved

and gave their lives to kin

I think about your pains and joys

Your triumphs and your falls

I never met you in this life

But something to me calls

I feel I know you from those times

I read about your life

Your story lives inside my heart

And calms me through my strife

I feel a closeness words can't tell

I stand here by your grave

So grateful for a legacy

And what to life you gave