A Few Words about Family History

My niece has gotten interested in the family genealogy, which in turn has caused me to open up my old family files and see where I left off.  That's why I haven't posted as much lately.  Between working on book three and trying to figure out who begot who...

It's amazing to me how much has changed since the first time I stepped foot into the genealogy section of the old Carnegie Library in Anderson, Indiana.   I remember room being packed with books, file drawers, and microfilm.  This was in the late 1970s.  Computers weren't even on our minds.  So, I learned how to research from two librarians -- Howard and Phyllis.   I remember them both well.  Howard was tall and heavy-set.  He had slight tick to him causing his head to shake from side to side.  I often felt like he didn't really care for "the younger generation" unlike Phyllis.  She and I were the same height.  Actually, I think she was shorter.  She was the one who really helped me the most.

Looking back at the whole experience now, I consider it one of my best decisions in my life.  I got to talk to a lot of people who are now gone.  In my head, I have story after story about the family.   I've spent years with stacks of books piled on library tables trying to piece together families.   The hours I spent pouring over census indexes, making copies of the pages so I could make notes, going to the microfilm to discover disappointment after disappointment.   And wow, what a great day it was when the 1860 Indiana census index came out!   It was gold.  But alas, all of those days are over.  Now I can just go on-line and see if someone else has already done the research, use the databases, or just type in the name and see what comes up.  A far cry from the days of xeroxing, doing the math of birth and death dates, and hoping that you get a response back from the local historical society four states away in a small town in the middle of the hills.

Genealogy was my first experience in major research.  I learned a lot about creating searches, organizing information, and nurturing logic.  But more importantly, I got to know my family.   The times I would talk to my Grandma Alford about her life in North Dakota.  Asking my Father about growing up in Park Place in Anderson.   Listening to my Grandma Marshall talk about the bad times and then the good times.  Getting to know those Aunts and Uncles who are all gone.

I've also learned something else.  How to be glad I'm alive and how good a life I really have especially in the age of medicine, science, and technology.  My family history is amazing to me.   Stories of settlers, immigrants, hard-workers, and the odd ducks, who may have been poor, but happy.

I asked my Grandmother Alford and my Mother one time "What was it like to live during the depression?" My Grandmother replied "We didn't notice it.  We had nothing to loose.  Dad Alford worked odd jobs, we had a huge garden, and lived near family."  My Mother added "We were poor, but we had good times."

What I would give to have met some of my relatives.  I would have had a million questions.

CSM

True Love or Great Sex? Part Two

So, Bill and Sadie had two children together -- my Grandfather and his sister, Nancy (who died when she was only a year old).   They lived in Greensburg, Indiana, for a few years before finally moving to the Kalamazoo area in Michigan.  I suspect that Steve Jones and Bill may have had a few brawls, but who knows.   They lived in Michigan for several years before moving to Anderson, Indiana, where Bill went to work for Delco-Remy, part of General Motors.

Throughout the 1930s, I found it very interesting that the Anderson City Directories lists Bill and Sadie in one part of town, while Steve and Sadie lived in another part of town.   I wonder if she had to take care of two households?  I also just can't help to ask what was it?

Years later, Steve died, allowing Sadie to finally marry the man she had spent a large part of her life with.  I know for some this news came as a shock, but I always knew something was amiss, since no one seemed "to know" when they got married.  Regardless, I have lots of great photographs of them, looking happy and enjoying life.   Later, Bill would take "a preaching course" via mail and have his own church and congregation.   By the sounds of it, Bill and Sadie got religion which only makes me wonder what else they might have done that no one knew about.

But no matter what, I admire them.   It had to have been true love.   To seek out divorces when they were frowned upon and basically made you an outcast, despite the social structure, the legalities, the paperwork with signatures,  they didn't really care what anyone thought.  A trait that runs on the Marshall side of the family.  Isn't that right, JD, Robin, Tim... and even myself?  For 30 years, they lived together, raising two children, and enjoying life.  They made the family history a little more interesting.  I also feel a little more free in my life.  In other words, there is no straight and narrow path to follow.  I think it's good to venture off it for a while, otherwise, you may live a very boring life.

CSM

The First Anniversary of the Day My Father Died.

It's been one year since my Father died.   It seems like ages since that day.   Funny how I can still remember the last few minutes of his life.

My Father was still breathing, but barely, and shallow.  Ever so often, he made a couple of bodily noises.  Stretched out in his lazy boy, just like he wanted to be, and had been for three days.   I can still see him laying there, covered with his favorite stripped afghan in brown, black and white.   I looked at him.  This shell of an old man housed the soul of the father I once knew. 

The house was quite.  The television was off.  The doors were open since the weather was nice.   The sun shined. We just waited. My Father's girlfriend, Dorothy, was pacing, looking for something. Maybe she was in heavy denial of what was happening. My Sister, Robin, went about her business, keeping busy with housework.  The house was quite, except for a stir now and then from him.

The clock read two, in the afternoon.  A typical Monday afternoon for most of the world.  I had called work to say I wouldn't be in and that the end was near.   We just waited.

There was a tap at the kitchen screen door.  Our cousin, Cathy, had stopped by to check in.  She had two of her grand-kids with her.  We hugged as was the custom with her. She came in and sat down on the couch across from my Father.  Plain old beige couch with speckled upholstery of tan.

We were talking about what was going on -- my work, her kids, Robin's kids, Aunt Carolyn, what's going to happen next.  She wanted our addresses, so I sat down at the counter that separated the living room and kitchen.   Dorothy came in and lost it next to my Father.  Robin took her to the back bedroom and put her to bed.  I was writing my address.  Cathy stopped talking.  And then there was total silence.

Cathy said one word.   "Chris."  She looked at me and pointed at my Father.   Robin had just stepped back into the room.   It was a moment when it felt like time had came to a standstill.  For just a brief moment, the clocks stopped ticking.   Everyone in the world stood motionless.  I felt like a slow-motion figure.   He was gone.  In an instance.   One moment, then the next.  At 2:30 in the afternoon.

Moments like these stick with you, no matter what you do to rid your mind of them.  Like my Mother's final moments, my Father's will too.   And I will treasure them because I was one of the lucky ones to be there to see them off to new adventures.

CSM

True Love or Great Sex? Part One

While in middle school, I started researching my family and interviewing the older generations. I now realize I made a great decision since they are all, but a few, gone.  However, there were stories we didn't know and I had the great fun of piecing them together, one sliver of information at a time.   Over the years, I've recorded many stories in my head about my family's past.  They are a writer's pool of wealth. So here's one...

(Side note to the audience:  Before I even dive into this story, I just know that a few people are spinning in their graves at this moment. They know I am about to spill the family gossip for the whole world to read!)

This story involves my Great Grandparents -- Bill and Sadie Marshall.  I never met them.  My Father always said that they had a life before they had a life. This is one it took years to dig out of the closet, despite the fact, my research had already given me a clear picture.  You can run, but you can't hide.

Bill was born in 1886 in a log cabin owned by his Grandfather, a proud member of the Underground Railroad movement in southern Indiana.  The family also formed a baptist church in the area and, today, a state marker honors their work.  From what I have gathered, Bill must have been the lady's man.   He traveled about and eventually made his way to Greensburg, Indiana, around 1915.

Sarah was born in 1879, somehow along the way she gained the nickname "Sadie."  She would live with that name right up to the end.  In fact, that's what is engraved on the headstone.  Anyway, Sadie was born in Indiana, lived in Illinois, and "may have been raised along the Ohio River."  In other words, little is known about her vagabond childhood.   Rumor has it that she had an affair with a river boat gambler, who was reported to have been "of dark skin."  Well now!  Regardless, she married a guy named Steve and they had three children -- Rose Ethel, George Herman, and Rebecca Jane.   It is with Rebecca (a.k.a. Becky) where the fun really begins.

Becky, as she was called in her youth, was born in Columbus in 1910.  However, according to the official census, Steve was a grieving widower with no Sadie or Becky in sight.   As it turns out, Sadie had left Steve for Ohio where she left Becky to be put up for adoption.  This never happened.  Eventually, Sadie turned up in Greensburg, about 1915.  She lived in one part of town, while Bill lived in another.   I'm not sure what exactly was going on.   I can only guess.  But I do know this, in 1915, they year my Grandpa Marshall was born... in Greensburg...  there are no birth records for a Marshall.   But there is one for a Jones...  On the same day.   Grandpa Marshall was, without a doubt, Bill's son; and later, a sister, Nancy, came along in 1917.

The Marshall side of the family always seemed to me... well...  to put it bluntly, to be a little on the wild side.. and, well, maybe the horny side.

CSM

You never really die... You just linger in someone's database.

My Mother received an invitation to someone's memorial.  My Father is getting applications for credit cards. They both get advertisements on great sales on new vehicles.  Debt collectors and mortgage companies are threatening to file a complaint against their credit scores.  

My Mother died six years ago.  My Father a year on April 15.  Yet, they live on.   In some company's database somewhere out there.  A database that no one ever checks.

Between me and the lawyer, we've sent copies of death certificates and copies of legal forms, but still, you aren't really dead in the bytes of a database with your name in it.

So, what is this?  Does no one ever clean these things up?  Where do the returned letters go with "deceased" written on them?   I can just image some room somewhere in these companies with dead letters.   The returned mail of the deceased.

I'm not sure what's sadder -- the fact that someone died or the fact that someone never gets the chance to move on from their death because some well-organized database has got your address.   I'm sad for the living and the burden that these faceless databases send out to the left behind.   We're the ones that are trying to move on with our lives, to heal from the deaths of those who were dear to us. 

I shouldn't take these mailings personally, but it wears on my mental health.  I don't seem to get any relief from being reminded that my parents are dead.

CSM

"Once you learn to be happy..."

"Once you learn to be happy, you won't tolerate being around people who make you feel any thing less."

Not sure who said it, didn't bother to do an Internet search to see, but...  I really love this quote and I send my thanks to whoever originally said it.

I've decided not to settle for anything less than being happy.  Some days, I wake up and feel slow and just can't get it moving, but somehow I always end up being in a good mood.    Personally, I think it's because I've seen death and know that it's coming sometime in my life.  Sad, scary, but true.  I figure what's the point of worrying about stuff that's beyond my control and turn my attention to the things that I can.

Writing has become my passion.  I don't feel that I am good at it, but that's what drives me.  To become good at it.   I'm not out to writing "the great American novel" as I read on some unknown writer's blog or website.  I don't remember who it was.  Guess he hasn't got the great American novel after all.

What I really want to do is entertain you, dear reader.  I'm standing at a fork in the road and, as Yogi Berra once said, I think I'll take it.

Short but sweet and to the point.

CSM

Another Interview with Sam Henry

When I was first approached by a member of The Time Savers Club, I had no idea how big of a project this would become. It grew beyond my wildest imagination. Much of my writing time has been spent writing their first story and not much on my own story.

But, like I mentioned, I have lots of posts to work on, including this one. Another great interview with Sam Henry.

He stopped by a few weeks ago to talk about book two, From Cleo to Edgar. Here's how it went...

CSM: So Sam, it's been a few weeks since I saw you last. The last time we meet, you filled me in on the details of your first adventure with The Time Savers Club.

SH: Yep. We had a lot to talk about.

CSM: Yes, we did. I was amazed about what had happened to you guys. You know, I think it's important for us to tell our readers about the time frame of these stories.

SH: I think that's a good idea cause as they know my Mom and I moved into the apartment only last year.

CSM: Basically, the story isn't that old.

SH: Nope. Book two just happened last year in November.

CSM: So what I am about to write for book three actually happened last December.

SH: Yep.

CSM: So, I know you had a rough situation. How are you handling it?

SH: Well, I doing much better since...

CSM: Hey wait, don't give anything away.

SH: (Laughing) I almost did! I doing OK. I've really come to accept the whole story. The Club has been a great help. Rose has become my counselor. She's helped me a lot.

CSM: Good to hear. Well, as you can see, I've fallen behind on this blog. I'm glad we had time to chat and I can get this posted. I'm spending a lot of time working on the books as well as my own writing.

SH: Great. I'm out of here.

CSM: Thanks for stopping by.

From Cleo to Edgar: A Time Savers Club Adventure Book 2 is available on Amazon.