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Donít be afraid of the cemeteryÖ..
Have you ever just walked around a cemetery? If not, you should! And, no, we are not ghost busters, devil worshipers or into being scared silly.
Hereís the thing; it will be what you make it. For us, itís almost always a peaceful, thought-provoking, spiritual, educational and beautiful place to wander about.
Every year around my birthday, I go visit a friend who passed away shortly before his 40th birthday. Iím now well over 40. Cemeteries also provide perspectiveÖ..lots and lots of perspective! Suddenly, things like your slow internet connection or having a bad hair day donít really seem like such a big deal.
The real estate for almost every cemetery we have been to, is usually the best in town, with the best views to boot. Your relativesí final resting place may have expansive ocean views and sweeping mountain views, or even 360° city views.
You can wander about and see actual pictures of the deceased (thank goodness for modern conveniences, i.e. hair dryers, curling irons, lip waxing, etc.), very interesting names, entry gates with incredibly ornate detail, decades- old magnificent shade trees, and sometimes, if you are lucky, you may even learn a little something from a headstone. At one particular cemetery, we even saw a bullet hole shot straight into the face of the deceased, the picture of which was on the headstone. What the heck is the story behind that?!
If you havenít visited your relativesí final resting place, get going! Of course, itís understandable if this is a hard thing emotionally for you to do, but it doesnít have to be a sad, morose place to visit. You can make your visit a happy and spiritual trip, believe it or not! Mother Nature is really the only thing that should keep you from visiting.
Where is the most beautiful cemetery you have ever visited? Share with us your stories.
I just got back from a week long research trip to Ireland. I learned a lot about Catholic Church Records in Ireland. If anyone wants me to look up or confirm the parish that your ancestors are from, I have a great index book that has detailed parish names, towns, and diocese, all by County. I can also tell you what records exist and the dates available to look at.
If your family has the Driscoll Surname, we are looking for members to join the Driscoll DNA Project. The more people that take the test, the better chance we have of connecting with our relatives. Currently there are 79 people from around the world taking part and connecting thru DNA. See link below.
My Driscoll family came from Leap, Cork, Ireland in the parish of Kilmacabea around 1840. I have reason to beleive some immigrated to Australia. John Driscoll married Julia Dempsey.
Here is the link:
I have gone through the Mayflower Society Application process and our family has been officially accepted as members. Our roots traced our family back to Francis Cooke, Stephen Hopkins and Elizabeth Fisher Hopkins who came over on the Mayflower in 1620.
What an exhausting yet rewarding process. What is exhausting is the detail that the society expects when proving a connection. This is critical in order to ensure you have the true relationship established.
One must provide all vital documents for the current 3 generations in your line (birth, marriage and death records). They require the courthouse documents, not church records. And if a vital record doesn't exist because a state didn't require them at that time, then they need something in writing from the government agency that the records did not exist at that time.
Connecting the generations beyond the current 3 requires birth, marriage and death records; however this is where it gets tricky. States didn't always require them earlier in the US, parents were rarely listed on these documents, and records were often destroyed in local courthouses. One must truly be crafty to figure out how to properly establish kinship.
Census Records earlier than 1880 do not establish the relationship to the head of the household. Thus, they rarely accept them as documentation.
All written Wills and Probate records used in your documentation must include a typed translation. This sounds easy but some of the older wills were written with such elaborate scripts that they are very hard to read.
All newspaper obituaries must include a typed translation. Again, this sounds easy but some copies of newspaper obituaries are extremely blurry.
All documents must include sources and any cover pages if using materials from books.
The rewarding part came from the fact that all of my hard work over the years in tracing my lineage paid off in spades when I had about 95% of my application complete by the time I submitted my documents. But that is most often very rare. What was left to do was gather a few vital records since they would not accept church records as the main document to connect the dots. My family left just enough snippets of clues to let me know there was a connection, and then gave me a trail to satisfy that connection. It was just up to me to collect the necessary documents which included everything from Vital Records, Probates including Wills and Land Records, Newspaper Obituaries, Church Records, Census Records, Widows Pension Record, Cemetery Records, Cemetery Headstone Photos, and more.
At the end of the day, I didn't realize how much this membership would mean to me until I received an official acceptance. It is an honorable distinction to know that my family had such strong and admirable ancestors that braved the cold seas to bring us life in this new land. I am forever grateful to my family roots.
I am looking for information on Joseph Slansky and his wife Anna Honomichel from Bohemia. They had 5 children from 1860 - 1880 (Anna, Joseph, Frank, Anton and Frances). Almost all of the 5 kids ended up in Chicago, Illinois. Various records say they are from the Serlove region of the Czech Republic.
ďYour mother was adopted.Ē What? Thatís what my grandfather told his 7 children on the night of their motherís passing. This kind, wonderful woman grew up too ashamed to tell anyone her big secret, not even her children. Itís heartbreaking and I canít imagine what was running thru my fatherís head at that exact moment when his dad drops the bomb. Here he is, dealing with the death of his mother Helen at the age of 74 from Breast Cancer, and now he has to process the fact that her parents were not her parents. Or were they?
Fast forward 30+ years later, and Iíve decided itís time to find out exactly where I came from. It started out as a simple concept. Letís do a little family research on my ancestors and see what I can find, maybe even understand who I was named after. Someone named Ellen. Thatís it, thatís all I wanted to do. But one day into my initial search, I was hooked. My great grandfather worked at the Cracker Jack factory in Chicago. Very cool. I had ancestors that came over on the Mayflower. I was related to Liza Minelli. Wow. My great-great grandmother had 16 children. Forget it.
At this point, my search was spiraling out of control and I couldnít stop. My sister and her husband called my office the ďwar roomĒ. But I wasnít touching the adoption situation, at least not yet. That was too daunting a task and I was convinced I wouldnít find out anything. So I let it sit at the bottom of the pile, at the bottom of my list of things to do.
About a month later, I decided it was time to peek into the file and see what I could find out about my grandmotherís adoption and birth parents. Basically, all I remember hearing over the last many years was a story about how her father really wasnít her father, and the birth mother was a servant named Fanny. But then there was this little whisper in my family that maybe her adopted Bohemian father Frank really was her birth father after all. Yet the birth certificate said the father was a German man named Fred. Where that rumor originated from is still unclear to me, but hopefully one day I could get to the bottom of that issue.
Fanny, Fred and Frank. Seriously, could you have given me at least one name that didnít start with an F?
To begin, I had 2 documents to help me in my search. One of my dadís siblings actually petitioned Cook County and got Helenís adoption transcript. In the transcript, it names the birth mother, which led to Helenís birth certificate. Thatís all I had.
Oh, did I mention that the birth mother lied about her name and address on the birth certificate? She used a fake name of Kate on the birth record, but was quoted in the adoption record as Fanny. What I will eventually uncover is that this is one of many lies that I would come across in my search. She obviously had something to hide and thatís what I needed to understand. So what else was she lying about? The birth father listed on the certificate? Probably.
I initially felt lucky because my grandmother was born in Feb of 1900, and the once-every-10-year census came out in June of 1900. I thought it would be fairly easy to find a 4-month old baby Helen in the census records of Chicago, but I was wrong. So where was Helen in the census, and where was she for her first year? According to the adoption transcript, Frank says that he took Helen home around the age of 1, and eventually adopted her at the age of 11. I was convinced the birth mother took her home in an attempt to raise her, although it was possible she could be at an orphanage (Frank gave money to a Bohemian Catholic Orphanage in his will).
My first serious search was to look thru all the Chicago orphanages in the 1900 census. It is a painstaking process to flip thru many pages trying to drill down to the exact location of each orphanage, but it had to be done. Yet I came up with nothing. So then I wrote to the Catholic Archdiocese and spoke to the woman in charge of the archives. She agreed to research the Bohemian orphanage run by the nuns in the year 1900. But after waiting 2 months for a response, all she came back with was that the records couldnít be found for that timeframe.
Then I went back to the census record, and searched for baby Helen and mother Fanny, or Helen and Kate. I did this search multiple times with no luck until I decided to do a generic search for 4-month old girls. Thatís when I came across a very interesting entry = Baby Helen, born in Feb, living with mother Annie (no father with them). When I looked closer at the document, the motherís name was actually Fannie. It had been indexed wrong after having missed the first letter of her name. I was convinced this could be them. I also notice that they list the place of birth of baby Helenís father as Hungary (not Germany, which is the nationality of Fred listed on the birth certificate). Very interesting indeed. The only hiccup was that it had more lies Ė the last name of the mother was wrong, the age of the mother was off by 10 years, and she said she was from Hungary, not Bohemia. (You can look at the census record below and see for yourself Ė lines 7 and 8).
Here is the interesting part on this census record. This woman Fannie lived next door to a policeman in the census. And why that gave me chills is because Frank (the adopted Bohemian father) was a cop. So now this story begins to form in my head. Adopted Father Frank is the real father, and has squirreled mother and daughter away with a co-worker so no one would find them. I was also convinced that Fred, listed as the father on the birth certificate, was another lie and they were never married. That is until I found Fannyís marriage record to Fred 5 years before the birth of Helen. Ugh, I mean, yeah !!
So now I know that Fanny and Fred were actually husband and wife. But I never did find them living together in the 1900 census, much less with a baby. Of course, they got married by the Justice of the Peace in 1895, which means they didnít marry in the church, which means there isnít a church record to look at. When I searched the Chicago City Directory of Addresses for Fred, I found him listed during the 1st year of their marriage, and then I never found him living in Chicago again. I searched about 20 years of directories, and only found him twice Ė in 1894 and 1895. Now I am back to my theory that he is not the father, and had left Chicago long before baby Helen was born in 1900.
Iím now months into this search before I finally come across another hit Ė Fanny living in Yellowstone Wyoming. She is living as a servant in the house of a military officer in the 1910 census. The entry does say that she is married and is the mother of 1 child, but she is not living with a husband or a daughter. At this point, I know that Helen is living with her adopted parents as a 10 year old. Nonetheless, I found Fanny again, and thatís progress.
Yet Iím running out of ideas and fear I will never figure this out. But I had one big idea left and that was to search for divorce records since I never did find Fanny and Fred living together in a census. Not knowing what this meant, I ventured down to the Cook County Archives and sat at the microfilm desk. (I knew Illinois was broke, but for Peteís sake, could they get a machine that you didnít have to crank by hand? What year is this, 1912?) So I cranked away for an hour, and Iím getting highly annoyed I might add. That is, until I hit the jackpot. Finally. I found a divorce index Ė Fanny and Fred, March 1911.
To quote Harry Carey, HOLY COW. Now Iím fired up and itís all I can focus on. I also realized that the divorce date was 1 month before the official adoption papers were issued for Helen, and the lawyer on the adoption was the same lawyer for the divorce. That cannot be a coincidence. Frank, did you pay the bill? It took 2 weeks of patience, which is not a virtue I possess, but the day finally arrives for me to go back to the courthouse and view the record. Iím giddy and bouncing in my shoes as I walk the 15+ blocks to the Loop. I canít imagine what it will tell me, but Iím beyond excited. What I get is a document folded in 3 parts that hadnít been opened since 1911. The original rusty staple holding the pages together was still there.
The first word I saw was ďabandonedĒ. According to Fannyís testimony to the courts, husband Fred abandoned her in 1899 (Helen was born in 1900). In addition, there is a sister named Anna who testifies to the abandonment. And finally Frank, the adopted father, testifies that he knew Fanny for the past 10 years, she lived alone, and did laundry for a living. But the part that still breaks my heart is that Frank tells the court that Fanny would occasionally go to his house to visit her little girl. Remember when I said I was bouncing with excitement on my way to view the record; well, my walk back home was met with a somber tone, and a few tears.
My whole perception of my great grandmother changed in an instant and I began to feel a connection that I cannot explain. Whether I am right or wrong, this is what I think went down. She came to the US in 1889 to live with her siblings in Chicago, and eventually got married in 1895. 1 year later, her husband left her and never returned. She was broke, lonely and she got pregnant out of wedlock. Fanny attempted to raise Helen by herself, but had no money, and lived the life of a servant in someone elseís house, doing someone elseís laundry of all things. Iím sure bringing an infant into this situation was problematic with her employer. So she had to give up the baby to a better life, which Iím confident broke her heart. I truly believe this just based on the fact that she often went to visit her as a child.
Fannyís sister in the divorce record was my goldmine to their family. I found sister Anna and 2 other siblings living in Chicago, and I even confirmed their parentsí name and birth location in Bohemia. However, it was sister Annaís obituary in 1935 that mentioned her sister Frances. But now Fanny has a new last name. Obviously, she remarried and it only took me a couple weeks to piece it all together. I found Fannyís 2nd marriage record in Ohio, which took place 2 months after the divorce, and 1 month after the adoption. I found her in the 1920 census with her new husband Clyde and a 6 year old son living in Idaho. I immediately found her death record in 1942 and subsequently received her death certificate 2 weeks later.
And yes, there was more lying that I uncovered. On the marriage certificate to her 2nd husband Clyde, she used her first married last name as the name of her parents, instead of her real maiden name. Then she checked the box that said she had never been married before, which probably means she didnít tell her husband about her past. She also said she was born in Chicago, even though I have her immigration record and a picture of the boat she came over on from Bohemia. But who cares at this point. She lived in an era where shame was the devil, and god forbid you made a mistake. Yet that mistake led to a wonderful mother of 7 and grandmother of many, including me. That is not a mistake in my book. Fanny just stumbled into an unconventional path to motherhood that other people had a hard time accepting. The hardest thing for me to reconcile is how it affected my grandmother. I hope to god she isnít mad at me for uncovering everything. I wish she were alive today because I believe she would have felt more comfortable telling others.
So there it is. 9 months of brick walls, all to come tumbling down from a divorce record.
I want to meet Fanny in person, but that canít happen until I see her in Heaven. So for now, Iíd settle for a picture. I havenít been able to come up with that yet. And I will definitely visit her grave in Twin Falls Idaho. Hopefully soon. Maybe one day I will get the guts to reach out to the children of her son who now live in Utah. But Iím too chicken to do that. I fear they have no idea that grandma had another life.
One final note. I briefly mentioned that I thought Helenís adopted father was really the birth father. I have yet to uncover one single hard fact to substantiate this claim. My theory is based on whispers, and gut. Frank knew the birth mother and let her into his house. I doubt that would happen if he picked up a baby at an orphanage. Also, Frank and his 2nd wife were 46 years old when he brought Helen into his home. I canít imagine he wanted to be changing diapers and chasing a toddler into his 50ís. Donít forget another key fact - Fanny lived next to a cop in the 1900 census. Ok, that may be a stretch, but it doesnít shut the door, just helps to keep the theory alive.
There is one other factor in my gut speaking to Frank as the real father. In 1972, my father did a taped interview with his parents so he could document their family history. What a blessing this has been to my research. But it is haunting to listen to my grandmother speak, especially now that I know the full story. Keep in mind nobody knew she was adopted during this interview. So when my father began asking questions, she ran away from the microphone and told him she didnít want to do it and didnít know anything. He eventually coaxed her over, and we get to listen to her speak glowingly about her father Frank. Yet, when he asks about her mother, she said she doesnít know anything and changes the subject. Itís definitive that something is not right, yet she speaks with such reverence to Frank. So now I ask you, why would she love her adopted father so much, yet avoid speaking about her adopted mother? See what I mean?
This past summer, I traced Frankís roots to a distant cousin in Chicago. We met in person and are discussing a DNA test. While the test wonít be conclusive, it will tell us if we cannot possibly be related. Iím all for checking that box on my research skills, and adding to the story, even if itís only in my head.
Our Bohemian grandmother was born in the year 1900 in Chicago and given up for adoption. It was one of the last family searches I attempted to work on because of the daunting nature of the challenge. Ö Fast forward to this month, we just got exciting news about the birth father. I located a 3rd cousin of the suspected birth father. She took a DNA test along with my brother, and it came back with a match. It was a beautiful moment. If you are on the fence about a family connection, I highly recommend the DNA route.
You can read the blog at the site below.
New Blog on the Importance of Researching Siblings.
His name was Valentine, and he was the younger brother of my great-great grandmother Eliza. Well, happy Valentineís day to me because his death solved one of the weirdest mysteries in our family tree and ultimately found a missing loved one. Ok, so it took me 2 years to figure it out, but my gut knew it all along, I was just slow in following thru.
Letís back up. My gg grandfather Henry was born in the small town of Grombach, Baden, Germany in 1841. I am fascinated by Henry. He immigrated with his entire family and has been fairly easy to trace. I have a picture of him and will say he looks like a cocky, I mean confident, gg grandpa. I guess you had to be confident when you are the type of person that would travel by wagon to the state of Nebraska in 1875, without a home, set up camp in a cave, and eventually become a wealthy farmer with hundreds of land acres at the time of his death in 1919.
But Henry had 2 wives. It wasnít until I uncovered a tattered letter from 1942, packed away in a box at my motherís house, that I discovered my gg grandmother Eliza was actually Henryís first wife who died at the young age of 24 in 1872. My line wasnít 2nd wife Margaret after all. First wife Eliza was the mother of my great grandfather Fred. In the letter, it told us where she was buried, along with a baby daughter that nobody knew about. I reached out to the cemetery caretaker and he helped me locate the headstone, which my sister visited and photographed last year.
It turns out the cemetery is in this dinkly little Illinois town of maybe 400 people today, so probably 20 people 142 years ago. Mystery solved, sort of. I had Eliza down, now I began work on her mother Martha. Crap, instant brick wall.
For almost 2 years, I searched for GGG Grandma Martha. She was born in Missouri and lived most of her life there until I found her living as a widow with Eliza and Henry in the 1870 census, near the town of Elizaís burial location in Illinois. But I never found Martha again - ever. I searched the 1880 census so many times it was almost ridiculous. No death record on file at the archives dept for the state of Illinois. I assumed she went back to the state of Missouri and where her 2 sons were living, but nothing. So I started chasing everything I could think of including her son Valentine and another son George. I also searched for their children, their childrenís children, etc. I chased what I think (but Iím not sure) are a few brothers, a probable father, and a couple sisters, but no luck. I even called the caretaker of the Illinois cemetery back to ask if he had a record of Marthaís burial. Nope.
Eventually, I obtained the death certificate for Marthaís youngest son Valentine in 1918. Hereís where it gets weird. Valentine died 47 years later in the same dinky little Illinois town that his sister is buried at, even though he lived all of his life in Missouri. His death certificate said he had only been in town for 3 days, a coronerís inquest was performed, and they could not determine cause of death.
Whatís that about? I will secretly admit I feared maybe he suffered from dementia, went to the grave of his sister and took his life. But I desperately hoped that maybe his mother Martha was actually buried there after all, and he was there to pay his respects.
Hereís another fun fact - Valentine died on my birthday. Maybe the universe was sending me a sign? Keep digging, Ellen.
It finally dawned on me that even though Valentine wasnít from this dinky town where he died, the suspicious nature of his death might lead to a newspaper article about the circumstances.
Ding Ding. His death made 2 newspapers in the area. It turns out he really was visiting his motherís grave. While trying to fix her broken headstone, he had what was most likely a stroke and fell over onto a pile of rocks. His body wasnít found for 24 hours.
Iím sorry Uncle Valentine, but I will be forever grateful to your stroke. Hallelujah, GGG Grandma Martha has been found. Now if I could only figure out where Marthaís parents are. The hunt truly never ends.
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