Creating a Future to Discover the Past

"The future is not something we enter. The future is something we create."—Leonard I. Sweet

This week's blog topic is Future. I think about the future a lot, but especially at this time of the year.

It's not what you think. I don't get all sentimental at the holidays or anything like that. I just hate winter. I hate the cold. I hate being cooped up inside. I hate wearing shoes and socks all the time. 

You see, this is the time I think about the summer. I go through seed catalogs and plan my garden. I look at calendars of spring and summer festivals in the area to visit with my grandchildren. I plan my summer vacation.

More and more, my summer plans have included visits to places where my ancestors lived. I want to know how and why, if possible, they left their homes in other places and how I came to live in Missouri. What influenced their decisions? Were they looking for better opportunities? Were they running from some type of misfortune? Were they adventurers?

The first real research trip I made was to Tennessee. I visited the Tennessee State Library and Archives in Nashville and dug up a few things. Then I drove around the state to a few courthouses, churches, and cemeteries. It was all pretty uneventful until I went to Obion County, Tennessee to a small town called Hornbeak. After meeting a man who lived next to the church and knew of my ancestor, I was hooked!

Since that time I have taken a few trips, but the one the summer of 2020 will be the best yet.
I know it will require a lot of planning and a lot of research, but it's the trip of a lifetime. I want to do it right.

I'm going create my future, my 2020, to make it as genealogically fruitful and as emotionally rewarding as possible.

My daughter Jen and I are going first to Paris. I've never been, but some of my ancestors were there. One, Nicolas Hébert, was an apothecary and may have been associated with Catherine de' Medici, Queen of France. She supposedly had cabinets of poisons. Did she get them from him? She was also known to have met with Nostradamus. Did my ancestor know him too? I need to know more!

There are other ancestors who lived in the Paris vicinity. I want to learn and see as much as I can, and advance research is so important.

Fortunately for us, my daughter speaks and reads French. While she's busy diving into French history, I'll be working on another family line. We are going to leave Paris after a few days and take a ferry from Calais to Dover and see the White Cliffs of Dover as they are meant to be seen - from the water.

Then we are going to travel across southern England, seeing the sights until we arrive in Devon, England. Our Dunsford, Ware, and associated ancestors lived in many of the small towns in the middle of Devon. They were commoners - gardeners, paper makers, rope makers. I want to learn more about their lives and visit the places they frequented. I am just as excited about these families. We're going to get to stay in some country manor houses, even one with a thatched roof (Thanks, AirBnb!). We will look out over the moors at the beauty of England, and, of course, go to Cornwall - Sidenote: If you haven't watched Poldark, you need to watch it. Cornwall is amazingly beautiful. 

I hope all of you are planning a 2020 as great as I hope mine will be.

Happy New Year!

Here's to the future!

P.S. You should all check out the great prices on Norwegian Airlines, which made this trip possible.

Unplanned "Adventures" of Michel Messier dit St. Michel, My 8th Great Grandfather

Merriam-Webster defines adventure as "an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks" or "an exciting or remarkable experience." Today, our adventures tend to be the latter. They are positive things in our lives, like my solo-trip by car from St. Louis, Missouri to Arizona and New Mexico this past summer. That was truly an adventure! 

My ancestors' adventures were different. They were frightening, life-altering experiences. It's hard for me to think of the things they endured using the term "adventure." This is especially true for my French-Canadian ancestors. They came to the wildest places in North America, broke ground, and established families. They traveled down rivers and lakes, deep into the unknown interior of what is now the United States, and settled there too. Imagine how remote their tiny villages were in comparison to those on the Eastern Seaboard. They didn't live next to their indigenous neighbors. They lived among them. They intermarried with the friendly tribes and fought with their adversaries.

Michel Messier dit St. Michel was one of these men.

The Tragic Lives of James and Hannah Lowe Flint, My 3rd Great Grandparents

My family tree is full of everyday people. They are not royalty. They are not great war heroes. They are not celebrities of popular culture. They would largely be forgotten if not for the efforts of people like you and me - the family historians. I admit that at times I wish for those great stories and great connections to things we learn in school, but I also realize that it's the contributions made by the common men and women that make our country and our world into a functioning society.

Some of my ancestors struggled and, sometimes, they made decisions I cannot begin to understand. This week's theme "Context" provided me an opportunity to better examine my third great grandparents, James and Hannah Lowe Flint. Their lives did not end well. I first wrote about them in October of 2014 HERE.  James died at the age of 78 after he fell down some cellar stairs in a drunken stupor, fracturing his skull. He was found the following day. It's hard not to feel embarrassed about this. He wasn't a hero. What did his drunkenness do to his family? Was he a burden to them? Were they glad he died?

More recently I learned the fate of his wife, Hannah Lowe Flint.

She committed suicide 12 years before her husband's death. 

She drowned herself.

Again, my thoughts were directed at blaming her. Why would she do this to her family? Was she a burden to them? Were they glad or relieved that she died? Was she the cause of her husband's drinking, or did his drinking contribute to her depression?

James and Hannah were born in Manchester, England. They grew up during the height of the Industrial Revolution, in the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution. The city boomed, but the working class suffered. There were food riots, protests, and, eventually, reforms. James and Hannah did not wait for the reforms. A few months after their first son was born, they left for Philadelphia, where their other 8 children were born, including twins who died at birth.

Sometime between 1850 and 1860, James and Hannah moved to St. Louis, Missouri. James was a blacksmith and engineer/machinist. He made steam engines, or at least placed advertisements for them. They were poor, members of the working class.

On the surface, James and Hannah escaped the working class struggles of Manchester. They started a new life in America where they raised their family. But in all likelihood, all they did was change their location. There were working class struggles in the United States too. 

They may have regretted their decision. They may have missed their family at home. It's even possible that Hannah did not want to come, knowing she may never see her family again. By the time she killed herself, 6 of her 9 children had died. 

I do not know the full context of the lives of James and Hanna Lowe Flint. I do not know all of the details surrounding their decisions. I probably never will.

So who am I to judge? 

James and Hannah were my 3rd great grandparents.

I'm proud of them for having the bravery to leave everything they knew to 

move to a new place - twice.

I'm proud of them for trying to create a comfortable life, even if they weren't successful.

I'm proud to call them family, because I wouldn't be here without them.

The Kienlen Plantation

Christian Frederich Kienlen, my 3rd great grandfather, had an interesting life - a true rags to riches story. He was born in 

Marbach am Neckar, in the Kingdom of Wurttemberg, in 1799, the son of Johann Gottfried Kienlen and Marie Charlotta Schemp Kienlen. He was trained in the family business. He was a confectioner.

In 1815, in Indonesia, Mount Tambora erupted. This was, and still is, the largest volcanic eruption in recorded history. The world's climate changed suddenly, and the following year, 1816, is known as the "Year Without a Summer." 

 While Mary Shelly wrote Frankenstein and  John Polidori wrote The Vampyre, people of lesser means were starving. Conditions in Wurttemberg were worse than in most places. People there resorted to eating moss, grass, and tree bark, and a mass exodus soon followed. Christian left his family and went to the United States as an indentured servant. That's a story for another day.

Christian eventually made his way to the boom-town of St. Louis. He was the first confectioner in the city, and his name is listed on many land deeds of that period. In 1837, however, he auctioned off his confectioners' tools and bought 100 acres of land in the wilderness of St. Louis County. It was here, in the area now know as Wellston, that Christian and Marie Louise Moreau Kienlen moved their young family. 

According to family lore provided by my father, Richard L. Kienlen, Christian had a store on the St. Charles Road (now Martin Luther King Drive). He sold provisions to people going west. We still have the key to this store, which Christian's grandson George had nickel-plated.

Although I have found no evidence that this store existed, I have learned about his plantation.

According to my dad, the Kienlens built a large, 2-story brick home. There were even stone lions out front guarding the porch. At one time, there was a sketch of the house, but it disappeared when in the possession of my grandparents. Kienlen Avenue in the Wellston area of St. Louis County was the driveway through the property to their home.

In 1868, Marie Louise Kienlen sold 66 acres to Erastus Wells (for whom Wellston is named) for $17,000. The deal included the family home. Mr. Wells then built a three-story mansion on the property. His son Rolla Wells, one-time mayor of St. Louis, included this photo in his 1933 book Episodes of My Life:

Peeking from behind the left side of the house seems to be a brick, 2-story home. I can't prove this is the old Kienlen home, but it very well may be. Sadly, both homes burned down in later years.

This transcript from a 1965 KSD radio broadcast about Wellston mentions the Kienlen home:
"In 1868 Wells purchased a country home in the area which now bears his name. Located a few blocks north of Easton Avenue, the spacious house, with wide verandas extending across the first and second stories, had been the farm home of the Kienlen family. The driveway which led to the house is the present Kienlen avenue, on which stands the Wellston City Hall. The handsome brick residence burned to the ground in 1893, after which the country property, with its orchards, gardens, and vineyards, was subdivided into small home sites." 

Now we have conflicting evidence. Did Christian Kienlen built the house in the foreground above, or Erasatus Wells. It's really hard to know, but the orchards, gardens, and vineyards were probably started by the Kienlens. The home pictured seems to be of a later period than Kienlen would have built it, but I'm no architecture expert. The house behind the house is more likely.

So what do we know about the plantation? The Federal Agricultural Census of 1850 gives us some clues. This census lists what was produced in the year ending June 1, 1850, so it reflects the harvest of 1849. At that time, there were 50 improved acres and 50 unimproved acres. The cash value of the farm was $20,000, a lot of money in 1850. They had 4 horses, 4 milk cows, and 6 other cattle. They had 4 sheep and 20 pigs. They produced 200 lbs of butter. 

They had grown 800 bushels of corn, 200 bushels of potatoes, and 95 tons of hay. They also grew 400 lbs of cotton and 1000 lbs of sugar cane. (The sugar cane surprised me.) They had $100 worth of produce from their orchard.

Christian lived at this site from 1837 until his death on December 31, 1851. His wife continued to live there until she sold it and moved in with her daughter Julia Kienlen Brokmeyer, wife of  Missouri Lt. Governor (1877-1881) Henry Brokmeyer. 

So what became of this land? Here's a little project I did a few years ago.

Interestingly, in 1905, construction workers building a house came upon the Kienlen family cemetery. I did not know this existed, and I now have another lead to follow. I assume they found and removed Christian. He and Marie Louise had children who died young, and those may be the other burials.  The article is also proof that Rolla Wells is an imperfect source of information. He was incorrect in saying the Kienlens got their land from the Spanish government. In 1837 this was the state of Missouri, in the U.S.A. 

My St. Louis Locations

I admit, I haven't worked much with land records or maps. I know I need to, but I find it to be a time-consuming project and I am far from retirement.

This week's theme prompted me to download Google Earth, and at least map out a couple of places that were important in my own life. 

My First Home

9320 Sterling Place

Affton, Missouri

We lived in this little house for the first ten years of my life, 1965-1975. Originally this was a two bedroom house, but my dad took part of the family room (I think) to make a third bedroom. The grassy area next to the house was not there at the time. It was a creek. I remember many happy hours playing in that creek.

The gravel road is where my sister Elaine lost a tooth. We tried to look for it awhile but never found it. At the far end of the gravel road there was a family with some teenage girls. They gave us their old Barbie dolls. I remember they looked a lot different from the Barbies we had. I wish we had kept them. They may have been the original ones.

Directly across the gravel road was a family with three boys. They were all about the same ages as me and my sisters. Sometimes we got along, and sometimes we didn't. I believe our fighting ruined the friendship of our mothers.

I remember there were some "hippies" that lived across the street, and a teenage girl living next to us had a baby that she named Amy. I remember asking how she had a baby when she wasn't married, but I don't remember my mom's answer.

The man behind us, Mr. Fish, grew tomatoes. The couple across the street, the Hermans, had two granddaughters that we liked to play with when they visited. Mr. Herman used to fall asleep in his lawn chair, often without a shirt on. When he stood up, you could see tan lines from his stomach folds from sleeping in the sun in his chair.

Going to the Park

Times were different then. For some reason, my parents let us ride our bikes, alone, to a nearby park called Ohlendorf Park. According to Google Maps, the trip was 1.3 miles and took about 7 minutes by bicycle. It was all side streets, but my daughter lives near the park and there are still very few sidewalks. We rode our bikes with no helmets, and we had no cell phones to call if we had a problem. The park looks different now, but I remember there was something you could climb on with a large, triangular piece of metal that several people could slide down at the same time. I burned the backs of my legs more than a few times on that thing. It also make a squeaking sound when you slid, which was basically your skin sticking to the hot metal. 

I decided not to put my second house here because my sister lives there now, but my first job, at age 16, was at Missouri Botanical Garden. I sold tickets to get in, and sometimes I worked in the gift shop or in the plant shop.

A lot of teenagers worked at the Garden, and sometimes we would get together and do things we weren't supposed to do, like look around at everything in Henry Shaw's house (the historic house of the garden's founder which is open for tours). I have always been proud that my first job was in such a great place. We are members of the Garden now, and we visit pretty often. My granddaughter Rose, who likes plants and flowers more than any kid I've ever known, enjoys our visits. She likes to see the Rose Garden. She thinks it's her garden, and we don't correct her. 

When I graduated from college, my first job was at St. Louis Children's Hospital as a Registered Nurse. At first I worked on the Cardiology/Cardiothoracic surgery floor. I also spent a year in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. The PICU was boring. I know that sounds silly, but all of the patients were sedated, and I worked at night so not much went on unless it was bad. I later transferred to the Emergency Unit, and I absolutely loved it there. 

I left the hospital in 2003 and started working in Student Health Services at Washington University in St. Louis. I was drawn by the benefits (tuition benefit for the kids + good retirement plan). I like working with the college students. It's a fun age group. I get to meet students from all over the world, and I enjoy hearing about their studies and plans for the future. We do what we can to keep the students healthy so they can complete their studies. Our office is in this building, Dardick House. We are in the basement where the green awnings are located.

We park behind the building, between the building and the baseball field. Like anyone who works at a school, we really look forward to summer. Each spring, as I walk to my car in the afternoon, I can hear the sound of a ball hitting a metal bat and I know summer's coming soon! 

The Resurrection of William Andrew Rigsbey/Rigsby

I'm excited to share one of my favorite photographs. There it is, just to the left of the title of this week's post. 

The man on the left was just a boy here, in his late teens I'm guessing. 

Meet William Andrew Rigsby (or Rigsbey). He went by "Andy."

Andy was born in 1878 in Crab Orchard, Kentucky. His family, including aunts, uncles, and cousins, moved to Macoupin County, Illinois between 1880 and 1900. They all changed the spelling of their last name from Rigsby to Rigsbey when they moved. According to family lore, 

they wanted to disassociate with their father.

My husband's branch went back to the original spelling. Most of the others did not.

Andy's parents were John William Rigsby, born in Lincoln County, Kentucky, and Anna Eliza Conn, born in Garrard County, Kentucky. 

This was her second marriage.

You can see "Eliza" Rigsbey below. 

Andy, my husband's great grandfather, spent most of his life in St. Louis, Missouri.

He was an artist - a sign painter.

Back in those days, billboards were actually painted by artists. I'll talk more about this in a 

future post (he took photos of his work!).

This week's theme is "Mistake."

Andy enlisted in the U.S. Army and served for 3 years. I don't know much about his service yet, mostly because the information is more difficult to find. He wasn't in one of the "big" wars. He served in the Spanish American War and in the Boxer Rebellion.

At some point, his family thought he was dead. I can't imagine how his mother felt when she heard the news. It must have been horrible. I came across an article about her happy ending published in the Daily Illinois State Register in Springfield, Illinois on March 30, 1902.  I learned from his military headstone application that he was also awarded the Purple Heart, but I don't know how he was wounded. There is always more to discover!

Extra-Curricular Activities: Richard Leroy Kienlen and Sharon Eileen Aden at School

I was 9 when the Little House on the Prairie television show started, and I, of course, read all of the books. So when my mom told me she went to a one-room school house, that's what I would think of. I still do, but as an adult I know it couldn't have been the same. She went in the 1950s. I need to ask her brother about it, but in some ways I don't want to change the images I've imagined. She, along with her older brother Tommy and younger sister Diana, grew up in the town of Poplar Bluff, in southeastern Missouri. "PB" as we called it. After elementary school, she went to 

Poplar Bluff High School and graduated in 1960. 

My dad's education was different. He grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, a big city compared to Poplar Bluff. He attended Siegel Elementary School and then McKinley High School. The high school was just down the street from from the four family flat where he lived with his parents. He was an only child. He loved to travel around the city on the street cars. He used to talk about going off 

on his own, just to explore new places. 

Both of my parents were involved in extra-curricular activities in high school. My mom was the librarian for her Future Teacher's of America organization. Although she never because a teacher officially, she was an involved mother.

My dad was in the Chess Club. He taught me how to play chess, although I haven't played since I was a kid. He also tried to teach my oldest daughter. I'm not sure how far they got.

Dad was also in the Camera Club, and eventually became a photographer. He used to have stacks and stacks of photography magazines in our basement, tied together with twine. Photography magazines and National Geographic magazines. Both magazines were full of beautiful pictures. 

No wonder he wanted to keep them.

The Precariousness of Life

As I work on my family tree, I am often amazed and saddened by the difficulties faced by my ancestors. Accidental death, illness, and warfare took so many.

Now, thanks to modern medicine and safety regulations, we don't worry so much about strep throat, pneumonia, and other infections that would have taken out our ancestors. Warfare has become more hands-off, and precise targeting allows for fewer civilian casualties. Workplace regulations, along with other safety measures, allow us to move about our lives with little fear. But these are all fairly recent advances.

John C. McHugh was my husband's great grandfather. I see my husband in his face, and especially in the faces of his children. I imagine John as a hard-working man who enjoyed doing things with his hands, just like my husband.

When John went to work on June 4, 1941, he probably thought it was going to be like any other day. He did not know it would be his last. By that time, his wife, Anna, had already suffered the loss of one child. She now had to learn to live without her husband during a time without the safety nets we have in place today. I should have asked my mother-in-law, her granddaughter Joan, how she survived. I assume her kids took care of her.

This was probably not the American dream they were hoping for, but I don't know what they left behind in Ireland. That's research for another day.

The St. Louis Dunsfords at Work and Home

We have all had coworkers that were annoying, even aggravating, which is why I find it interesting when close family members work together. How do they do it? I don't think I could, no offense to my family members who likely wouldn't want to work with me either.

My great grandfather, James "Harry" Dunsford, had a whitening, or painting/whitewashing business with his half brother Arthur Chester Dunsford. They may have worked with and then inherited this business from their father John Dunsford, who shared the business with his half-brother Edwin.
Most of the rest of the brothers were firefighters.

The painters were poor. Harry and his wife Josephine Guyot Dunsford lived with their 3 sons and 3 daughters at 2221 Chouteau Avenue in St. Louis, Missouri. The house is no longer there. Josie died in 1940, when my dad was 7, and Harry in 1946 when my dad was 13.

My dad told me a few stories about his grandparents. The house was old. There was no indoor plumbing, and they had an outhouse. I always found it fascinating that, in the 1940s within the boundaries of a major city, people lived without indoor plumbing. I guess it's easy to forget how much progress we have made in basic comforts in the last 100 years when you were always comfortable. Anyway, the house was heated by a wood stove, and there was a lot of soot all over the wallpaper. My dad remembers cleaning the walls with a product called Absorene. He said it was kind of like Silly Putty. They lived near several slaughter-houses and butcher shops, so the neighborhood smelled badly. Harry and Josie had fly tape hanging all over the place to stop their unwelcome visitors from bothering them. When my grandfather, George Kienlen, asked Harry's daughter Margaret out for a date, she agreed to meet him somewhere because she was embarrassed about her house and the smell of the neighborhood.

My dad remembers sitting by the window in a rocking chair with Grandma Josie. Before his 7th birthday in 1940, she told him she was going to give him a whole roll of nickels, which is $2. Josie died 3 weeks before his birthday. Dad stated, "I never got my roll of nickels." Those childhood disappointments sure stick with us!

What's Wrong With Women?

In genealogy, researching women can prove challenging. Women didn't leave as many records as men, which makes them difficult to trace. They had fewer rights, so before marriage their fathers would have acted for them, and after marriage their husbands would take over that duty. I have also found that there were way too many women named Mary! 

So, what's wrong with women? Patriarchy! 

Here's to hoping I'll learn more about my biggest mystery women someday:

1. Margaret (possibly Weiss or Whyle), born about 1854 in Missouri. She had at least three common-law husbands who were Albert Friend or Freund, Joseph Guyot, and Valentine Appel. She had children with each man. She died in St. Louis on 26 December, 1932.

2. Mary Ann Ware, born about 1822 near Ottery St. Mary, Devon, England (where she was baptized). She married John Dunsford, a rope maker, in 1841 at Upton Pyne, Devon. They had four children, two sons and two daughters, and lived in Clifton, Bristol, England. They immigrated to the United States in 1851, arriving at the Port of New Orleans. Mary Ann and the two girls then disappeared, never to be located again (yet). John remarried in St. Louis before 1854.

3. Malinda Ann Hembrey, born in North Carolina in 1824. She married James Thompson in Rowan County, North Carolina in 1844. The couple moved to Tennessee before their first daughter was born in 1846. They lived in Gibson County, Tennessee, then Obion County, Tennessee. Her husband was murdered in 1864. Malinda died in June 1876 in Obion County, Tennessee.

3. Mary [unknown], married Henry Barkley before 1753. They lived in Rowan County, North Carolina. They had 6 children. Some people say her surname was Knox, but I have found no proof of that although there were several Knox families near them. They all had daughters named Mary. Henry and Mary attended Thyatira Presbyterian church. Henry was either Scottish or Scots Irish. His origins are also a mystery.

My Earliest Record

I debated on what to write about this week, which is why my post is a bit late. The theme "earliest" left me many options. The earliest immigration of an ancestor to the New World? Or maybe the earliest ancestor to move to my home state of Missouri? Luckily, my daughter Jennifer provided the answer a couple of days ago 

when she found this record.

This 1625 baptism entry from Saint-Ouen-des-Fossés (in Le Mans, France) is now the earliest record we have found so far.  I know, as we work our way back in time, it won't hold this position long. For now, though, this is it. 

I am very fortunate my daughter can translate this for me.

Some of the words are a bit hard to make out, but it says, 

"Thursday, 10 Nov. was baptised pierre pinot son of Paschal Pinot the father 

and Jeanne Marteau the mother 

the godfather Jean Belot the godmother françoize [?Vincende] 

[The signature of the priest is also unclear.]"

Now I have learned the names of my 10th great grandparents too!

Puddin' Head

Norman Miller Holland

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 23 Theme: Namesake

Generation 6
My Great Grandfather

Rigsby, Kienlen, Aden, Holland

Naming your children is tough. My husband and I decided not to name our kids after anyone in particular. We didn't want any hurt feelings, of course, but ultimately we wanted to use names we actually liked.

My first name, Leslie, came from the 1964 movie Kisses for my President starring Fred MacMurray and Polly Bergen. My parents liked the name. I hope they weren't disappointed I never became President of the United States, 

or president of anything else.

I have no interest in that. 

My middle name, Diane, came from my mom's sister, Diana. 

She was a wonderful woman who liked to do crafts. I remember she and my mom would act silly and laugh a lot when they were together.

What I appreciate most about my Aunt Diana, was the day she came to visit my mom in the hospital. My mom had just had a double lung transplant and things were not going well. Her wonderful sister sat with her for hours one Sunday and sang church songs to her. Most of them were children's songs they probably sang together when they were girls. That meant a lot to me.

Here is a bit about Norman Miller Holland and his name.

"I Made A Mistake"

Frederick M. Johnston

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 21 Theme: Military

Generation 8:

My 3rd Great Grandfather

Frederick Miller Johnston

When most people think of the American Civil War, they don't think of Missouri.  As a border state, Missouri was a rough place during the Civil War. Many residents had come to Missouri from the south - places like Tennessee and the Carolinas. European immigrants and migrants from the northeastern US were also flooding into the state. Sentiments ran strong on both sides of the slavery issue. As the U.S. was expanding westward, there was fierce debate over which states would be free.  It truly was a neighbor-against-neighbor situation. While there were some conventional
Civil War battles in Missouri, most of the fighting was guerrilla warfare.

As a Missourian, I expected to find ancestors on both sides of the Civil War, or brothers fighting brothers. I did not expect to find the same man fighting on both sides. Imagine you are a young man living in southern Missouri at this time. You hear rumors long before you see any military activity. You're just a farmer. You're scared. How do you react?

This was the dilemma of Frederick Miller Johnston.

A Common Bond

The NGS Conference 

Experience

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 19 Theme: Nurture

This week I am attending the NGS Family History Conference. I knew coming up with an ancestor to write about this week would be tough. These conferences can be a bit exhausting. They really get those wheels turning in your head!

Conference Information Here

Most of my family and friends just don't get it.
They refrain from teasing me about my hobby to my face (except my husband, of course). They politely listen to my boring stories and don't understand why I'm so excited about finding things that really don't matter to anyone but me. I'm sure they wonder why I use my vacation days to attend a conference. Other than a handful of relatives including my daughter Jennifer, I'm pretty much on my own with this.

I have attended the NGS conference 3 other years, and went to RootsTech in 2018. Wednesday was the first day of the NGS conference in St. Charles, Missouri. I was able to connect with my mom's cousins in the morning, which was great. We're planning to go out for dinner later this week with my sisters. 

For the most part, however, I spent the day by myself. I signed up for lunch and dinner sessions, and ate both meals with strangers. By the end of the day, I realized that I am being nurtured by people I've never met before. 

It is so nice to talk to people about a common interest. At lunch I sat next to a lady who had train robbers in her family tree. Another lady at dinner said her family immigrated to Virginia in the early 18th century and never left that county. She is related to some of her ancestors 4 different ways, which makes for an interesting, but limited, genetic mix. Everyone is genuinely interested in your "boring" stories and you enjoy hearing theirs. It's a great feeling. 

The Danse Macabre

The Teter Family's Horrifying Trip From Virginia to Illinois

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks

Week 18 Theme: Road Trip

Generation 13:

My 8th Great Grandmother

Rebecca Henckel Teter

and 

Generation 12:

Abraham Teter (son of Rebecca) and his wife Mary Kittle Teter

My 7th Great Grandparents

Line of Descent:  Rigsby, Kienlen, Aden, Holland, Hartman, Estep, Teter

Hans Holbein, 1549 (public domain)

Death comes for us all. 

I have always been fascinated by the Black Death, which swept across Europe, Asia, and North Africa during the 14th century. This terrible disease killed an estimated 50-60% of the affected population. I can't imagine how our ancestors coped after such an event. After all, we descend from the survivors. 

In 1797, the Teter family, along with about 150 others, left Hardy or Pendleton County, Virginia (now West Virginia) for a better life in Illinois. This is the story of their journey as published in several books and county histories.


Life is fragile, and you never know when skeletons will take you to the dance of death.