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!