Last Fall I was bitten by the genealogy bug. Despite making it through four-and-a-half decades without being very curious about my forebears, suddenly it was imperative that I find out more about them. I blame it on PBS, with all the genealogy-themed shows they ran last summer. Anyway, I decided I'd try to trace my great-grandfather, the Civil War veteran. (I only knew that much about him because we used to have one of those fancy discharge papers framed and hanging in our living room.) I was already interested in the Civil War, thanks to Ken Burns and a politically-incorrect "crush" on Robert E Lee in my early teens.
I have no sympathy with the goals of the Confederacy. I just think REL was a good man who made some truly bad decisions. (I should talk!) As a Yankee gal supposedly said while watching him ride past her home, "I wish he were ours."
Anyway, I hopped onto the old information superhighway and located Great-Grandpa's tombstone, which listed his regiment. Turns out he was part of the special militia called up in Pennsylvania when Lee invaded in 1863. I guess the idea was for a last-ditch defense of Harrisburg or Philly in case the Rebels got past the Union army. But I knew from my reading that the Rebs had a very low opinion of Yankee militia. In fact, I gathered that part of the reason a battle was even fought at Gettysburg was that certain Rebel officers assumed the horsemen they encountered were "just militia" to be swatted away like flies.
Of course those horsemen were part of the REAL army, and the rest is history. The militia never had to see battle. They didn't know that when they signed up, and their personal bravery may have been unfairly maligned by the Confederates, but in my book they don't really qualify as veterans. So it was a little deflating for me to find out what my great-granddaddy did in the war. He would have been just a kid, anyway. Not that lots of "kids" didn't fight and die in the war, but my family dodged that particular bullet. It's more about that feeling of pride in knowing your ancestor played a part in the Civil War. Which he did, of course--just not quite the part I thought he had!
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Monday, May 26, 2014
I just wanted to post something in memory of my dad and uncles, who served in World War II. I don't know a lot about what they did, because they didn't talk about it. Dad was sent to the South Pacific and was in Australia, New Guinea, the Philippines, and Japan plus islands in between. He was transferred into the 32nd (Red Arrow) Infantry Division as a replacement, and I remember him visiting one of the Michigan men after the war. He was a mechanic so didn't have to be on the front lines, but I'm sure he saw plenty of horrors. He didn't like the Philippines or New Guinea but he said he wouldn't mind going back to Australia.
I have some letters he sent home, V-Mail I think they were called, little photocopies of the original letters that had to be checked by the military censors. He couldn't give any details about where he was or what the army was doing, just "I'm somewhere in the South Pacific." There was a lot of "small talk", and asking how the old gang at home was doing. He wasn't one to talk about feelings and didn't express much except how bad the food was sometimes, or the weather, or other annoyances. He'd occasionally ask for some little thing from home, like Pain King lotion which he always "swore by" for aches and pains. He'd sign the letters "Moose," his nickname.
Uncle Bill was in the Merchant Marine. He couldn't join the regular armed forces because of health issues. I just saw a newspaper article calling the Merchant Marine "unsung heroes" of the war, and thought of Uncle Bill. Even though they weren't "fighting," their work was essential to the war effort.
Uncle Jim was with the army in Europe. I have the impression he was there before D-Day, but I'm not sure where or when. He eventually became a medic. He once declined to tell a local reporter about his war experiences, because he'd lived through them once and didn't want to re-live them!
All three of them came home safely, which made our family more fortunate than many. When I watch documentaries like "The War" or hear veterans on TV talk about what it was like, I think of Dad and the uncles and try to imagine them going through that. Just everyday guys thrown into that hellish world. I can't even imagine it, really, it's so far from anything I've experienced in my safe little life. But if they hadn't "done what had to be done" along with millions of other everyday guys (and gals), my safe little life might not have been possible.
Dad and Uncle Jim are gone now, and I never said "Thank you for your service" to either of them. They might have been embarrassed by it, but I should have thanked them anyway.
Thanks. Dad.
Thanks, Uncle Jim.
Thanks, Uncle Bill.
I have some letters he sent home, V-Mail I think they were called, little photocopies of the original letters that had to be checked by the military censors. He couldn't give any details about where he was or what the army was doing, just "I'm somewhere in the South Pacific." There was a lot of "small talk", and asking how the old gang at home was doing. He wasn't one to talk about feelings and didn't express much except how bad the food was sometimes, or the weather, or other annoyances. He'd occasionally ask for some little thing from home, like Pain King lotion which he always "swore by" for aches and pains. He'd sign the letters "Moose," his nickname.
Uncle Bill was in the Merchant Marine. He couldn't join the regular armed forces because of health issues. I just saw a newspaper article calling the Merchant Marine "unsung heroes" of the war, and thought of Uncle Bill. Even though they weren't "fighting," their work was essential to the war effort.
Uncle Jim was with the army in Europe. I have the impression he was there before D-Day, but I'm not sure where or when. He eventually became a medic. He once declined to tell a local reporter about his war experiences, because he'd lived through them once and didn't want to re-live them!
All three of them came home safely, which made our family more fortunate than many. When I watch documentaries like "The War" or hear veterans on TV talk about what it was like, I think of Dad and the uncles and try to imagine them going through that. Just everyday guys thrown into that hellish world. I can't even imagine it, really, it's so far from anything I've experienced in my safe little life. But if they hadn't "done what had to be done" along with millions of other everyday guys (and gals), my safe little life might not have been possible.
Dad and Uncle Jim are gone now, and I never said "Thank you for your service" to either of them. They might have been embarrassed by it, but I should have thanked them anyway.
Thanks. Dad.
Thanks, Uncle Jim.
Thanks, Uncle Bill.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Jumping In
For anyone who may have read Dan Rather's autobiography, The Camera Never Blinks, this blog is not about police and dead people! It's about my fur-kids and my ancestors, two sources of unfailing fascination and frustration in my life. No, I don't have human kids, and yes, I'm a Crazy Cat Lady. (I recently saw a bumper sticker that said "One cat short of Crazy Cat Lady" but I think I'm probably over the limit.) I don't know how long I'll keep this up, or if anyone else will ever even read it, but I'm doing it mainly for self-expression so what the hey. There may be occasional political rants, because sometimes I just need to get them out of my system. I'm harmless, really. There will be typos too. I usually have a cat "helping" or at least sitting on my arm when I'm trying to type. "Don't mind me, you go ahead with what you're doing."
I live with 5 cats and 2 dogs. All but one of them are seniors, and I'm pushing 60 myself. We're a miniature old-folks' home. I'd say retirement community, but I'm still working full-time. Everyone else is taking it pretty easy. My dogs B and C (alias The B&C Security Agency), do love their walkies and also enjoy digging to China in their run out back. They are both mixed-breed rescues. Apparently with some terrier blood! I was told that B had been chained outside and neglected till the chain actually was embedded in her neck. GRRRRR. She still had the scar on her neck when I first got her. She's the friendliest gal, though. I don't know C's story but she's quite fearful and hand-shy. Oddly enough, C's the one who'll "dog my footsteps" while B does her own thing. Both of them would do anything for peanut butter. So would I, but we're all supposed to be losing a little weight!
The cats do what cats do best, namely, eating and sleeping and making demands of their staff (me). H, my tuxedo tomcat, will yowl at me to get my butt into a chair so he'll have a lap to occupy. My youngest cats, SM and SY, are sisters (or rather littermates who look as if they had different fathers). SY will meow to get me to twirl a shoelace for her to chase. Of course SM always shows up soon, and there are collisions resulting in hissy-fits all around. The other two cats, R and P, are brother and sister strays who adopted me years ago. R came crying up to my door one day, a kitten so young his eyes were still blue, but old enough to know a sucker when he saw one. Later his mom and sister showed up and took up residence on my front porch. Mom-cat was scared of me, but little P used to run to greet me when I came home from work. I took P to get her spayed, and when we came home I brought her into the house "just for overnight" because it was cold outside. She has never gone back outside. Or even shown the slightest interest in doing so. She's still my little love-bug, and likes to sleep next to me at night.
Obviously there's not a lot of excitement around here! That's OK by me. I like the quiet life. I hope to post some more about the "wuz" in my life, my immediate family and far-off ancestors, but for now I've run on long enough.
I live with 5 cats and 2 dogs. All but one of them are seniors, and I'm pushing 60 myself. We're a miniature old-folks' home. I'd say retirement community, but I'm still working full-time. Everyone else is taking it pretty easy. My dogs B and C (alias The B&C Security Agency), do love their walkies and also enjoy digging to China in their run out back. They are both mixed-breed rescues. Apparently with some terrier blood! I was told that B had been chained outside and neglected till the chain actually was embedded in her neck. GRRRRR. She still had the scar on her neck when I first got her. She's the friendliest gal, though. I don't know C's story but she's quite fearful and hand-shy. Oddly enough, C's the one who'll "dog my footsteps" while B does her own thing. Both of them would do anything for peanut butter. So would I, but we're all supposed to be losing a little weight!
The cats do what cats do best, namely, eating and sleeping and making demands of their staff (me). H, my tuxedo tomcat, will yowl at me to get my butt into a chair so he'll have a lap to occupy. My youngest cats, SM and SY, are sisters (or rather littermates who look as if they had different fathers). SY will meow to get me to twirl a shoelace for her to chase. Of course SM always shows up soon, and there are collisions resulting in hissy-fits all around. The other two cats, R and P, are brother and sister strays who adopted me years ago. R came crying up to my door one day, a kitten so young his eyes were still blue, but old enough to know a sucker when he saw one. Later his mom and sister showed up and took up residence on my front porch. Mom-cat was scared of me, but little P used to run to greet me when I came home from work. I took P to get her spayed, and when we came home I brought her into the house "just for overnight" because it was cold outside. She has never gone back outside. Or even shown the slightest interest in doing so. She's still my little love-bug, and likes to sleep next to me at night.
Obviously there's not a lot of excitement around here! That's OK by me. I like the quiet life. I hope to post some more about the "wuz" in my life, my immediate family and far-off ancestors, but for now I've run on long enough.
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