Discovering Relatives in the American Revolution and More!

A few months ago I decided on a whim to sign onto Ancestry.com to see if I could learn anything more about my family history. I've always thought our family to be very small and without much in the way of "roots."

My father, Woodrow Wilson Phelps (1913-1990) was orphaned by age 4 and raised by his grandparents, the youngest of four children and always, it seemed, surrounded by the cloud a great loss endured so young might cause. My mother's parents were an active part of my childhood, but still, there were mysteries surrounding her paternal grandparents. Could Ancestry.com help me solve these mysteries?

I signed up for the 14-day trial and became so engrossed in the search the first week, that I signed up for a 3-month subscription. This would keep me hooked into the research and "leaf hints" through my mother's visit to our home this past month.

For a very reasonable price and not much time, really, I have learned so much about our family history and assembled a rough sketch of a family tree that I look forward to putting in some sort of artistic-like form (a large drawing, a scrapbook, etc.). The "small family" I've complained about my whole life is actually much larger than I realized and as I've learned about the various members whose actions and genetic make-up and choices have impacted my life today, I have learned a bit about history as well... and this has also affected my reading choices over the last few months. Suddenly, history is coming alive to me.

Here are a few things I have learned:

MY MOTHER'S FAMILY:

Relatives on my mother's side have been in America since the late 1700s. Family names: Greene, Nichols, Ague/Aga, Daily. That's my grandmother, Helen Ora Nichol in the photo at left.

Frederick Ague was born in 1746 in Germany and his wife Catherine died in Bedford, PA in 1776. Their son, Nathan Ague, was in the War of 1812, in the Ohio Militia. Nathan's son, Nathaniel, was in the Civil War and is buried in the National Cemetery in Little Rock, Ark. I've seen a photo of the cemetery.

Nathaniel's brother, Timothy Ague (1836-1903) was my 2nd great grandfather. My mother remembers his wife, Mary Martha Dailey (1840-1938), who told Mom of coming to Ohio from Pennsylvania at age 6 in a covered wagon. She had 11 older brothers who fought in the Civil War. One of them, surviving the War, died when the balcony of a hotel he had stopped at on the way home after the war, collapsed.

My mother's paternal side of the family (Greene, Hartzell, Lathrop) is still lost to us, as I could get no further than her grandparents... Still, it was very cool to see the Census report from 1900 with my grandfather's name at age 4 on the ledger, along with his parents and sisters.

MY FATHER'S FAMILY:

My father's side of the family, surprised me! I had thought this side of the family would be lost to me, because I've always thought since his parents (Hattie Terry and Guy Phelps, shown at left) died a year apart when their youngest son was a toddler, there wasn't much story there. Silly me! So much to discover...

I was able to trace my father's family back to the 1400s: to my 16th great grandfather Saloman Lyman (1404-1495) and to my 13th great grandfather Francis Phylppes (1460-1491).

The Lymans can trace their genealogy back to "Charlemagne, Pepin, King of Italy with sundry other kings, noblemen and noblewomen," and it stunned me to see the pages of text documenting who married whom and all their children way back to, well, Charlemagne. Jeepers. I was more impressed with record keeping and the institution of marriage than possible connections to fancy people. I'm interested in courageous people, strong women, and brave men, intelligent for their time, questioning and curious. This is what I would like to think is in my genetic make-up, whether the steelworkers, farmers and bridge builders on my mother's side or the New England founders and descendants of prominence on my father's side.

Regarding the Deweys:

The Dewey lineage can be traced with some degree of accuracy, according to ancient Saxon Chronicles, to the Saxon cult hero, who is almost a myth, called variously Vothinn, Othinn, Odin, Bodo and Woden, king of the West Saxons during 256-300 A.D. This king Woden, the god of war of the southerly Germans, is described as the great-great-grandfather of the bugaboos of English history, Hengist and Horsa, brothers, freebooters and pirates. The Saxon annuals relate that Hengist was king of the Saxons and died between 474 and 495 A.D. and was the first king of Kent.

From Garber-Zent Genealogy. The author notes: This material is based mainly on the account of the royal ancestry of Admiral Dewey as reported in "The Life of George Dewey, Admiral, US Navy, and the Dewey Family History", by Adelbert Dewey, 1898.

My father's family had these main lines: Phelps/Phylppes, Weirman, Terry, Dewey, and Lyman:

* My 10th great grandfather, John Dille/Dilley, was born in England in 1600. He died at Jamestown in 1660. I wonder if he knew Capt. John Smith and saw Pocahontas! Thanksgiving will never seem quite the same to me...

* John Ingersoll (1615-1684, my 8th great grandfather) was born in England. He came to America with his brother in 1629 and lived for a while in Salem, MA, before moving to Hartford, CT, and marrying Dorothy Lord, daughter of one of the founders. Dorothy gave birth to three daughters and died at age 26. John's second wife died after giving birth to four daughters. So, here was a widower with 7 daughters and it's understandable he married once again. (I can imagine a YA novel about those 7 daughters! Also, Salem, MA in the mid 1600, yikes!)

* George Phelps arrived in America about 1630 in MA. His son, Jacob, married Dorothy Ingersoll, John's daughter.

* The Lyman's arrived in America in 1631 from Essex, England. Richard Lyman (1580-1642) was my 10th great grandfather. He and his wife were part of a group of 25 people who founded Hartford, CT. I found a photo of a monument there with Richard's name on it.

* William Dewey (1692-1759) was a minuteman in the American Revolution, a corporal in the Continental Army. William's daughter, Hannah, my 5th great grandmother, married Silas Phelps.

* William Wierman was born in Germany (1700) and his wife Gertrude Stateman was born in Holland (1705). They died in York, PA in 1766, ten years before our country was born.

* My 4th great grandfather, Eleazer Heath (1754-1850), was a soldier of the American Revolution, lived to age 96, and is buried in Williamsfield Center, Ohio.

* Another 4th great grandfather, Eliphalet Phelps (1743-?) served in the 18th Regiment, CT Militia, detailed for service in NY state from August to Sept. 1776. He also served under capt. Oliver Lyman's Co. and marched from Northhampton to East Hoosuck on Aug. 17, 1777.

I was amazed at the amount of information I was able to find with relative ease. On ancestry.com and on other Web sources. Pages and pages of books written about family histories; passenger lists from ships, censuses with old-fashioned handwriting, and family crests, photos, and other memorabilia.

Not content with researching my family history alone, I also found out much information for my husband on his family, the Williams, Van Akens, and Barlows. The Barlows were from Utah, and Mark knew much about their history in America, but nothing about their roots in England. It was exciting to present him with info such as this:

The Manor of Barlow in Chorlton-cum-Hardy, Manchester, was long held by a family who adopted that surname, with one Thomas de Barlow having been in residence there from about 1200. By 1389 Roger de Barlow was in possession not only of lands in Barlow, but others in Chorlton, Hardy, and Withington.
The Barlows had built Barlow Hall, as well as a small half-timbered chapel, on lands which they had held in the area since the 13th century. In 1567 Alexander Barlow was Lord of the Manor, and unfortunately for him, was among many local Manchester Catholics who fell foul of the religious changes made by Queen Elizabeth I, was committed to prison and died in custody on 24 August 1584.
A notable member of the family was Edward Barlow, later known as Saint Ambrose Barlow, a famous local Catholic martyr. Ambrose Barlow, who had done missionary work in Lancashire, was several times imprisoned, and was finally executed for his priesthood on the instructions of Parliament on 10 September 1641 at Lancaster. (Source: http://www.manchester2002-uk.com/history/old-families2.html)

Ambrose Edward Barlow was hanged, dismembered, quartered and boiled in oil for his religious beliefs. He was one of the Forty Martyr-Saints of England and Wales and his feast day is Oct. 25th. (see painting above).

Ironically, my 6th great grandmother, Hannah Perry (from Admiral Perry's family), was a direct descendant of Sir William Wallace, a Scottish hero from the 13th century.

William Wallace is one of Scotland's greatest national heroes, undisputed leader of the Scottish resistance forces during the first years of the long and ultimately successful struggle to free Scotland from English rule at the end of the 13^th Century.

http://www.electricscotland.com/history/articles/william_wallace.htm

He was also hanged, dismembered, quartered, and had his body parts put on display by the British. Today, there is a huge tower known as Wallace tower, in honor of Sir William Wallace.

(The Wallace Monument, near Stirling, Scotland. Photo by Finlay McWalter, of Scotland, on Wikipaedia.)

Hannah (1728-1795) lived in New Jersey during the American Revolution. Another member of Ancestry.com posted this family story: Both her husband, Aaron and son, Ephraim were soldiers in the Revolutionary War. Son Aaron was a Minuteman. Hannah plowed all one day while a battle was going on in which both Aaron and Ephraim were fighting. She could hear the cannons roar, but told the children it was thunder. She herself, was too distressed to eat.

You can read a transcript of Clyde E. Williams, Sr. (Mark's paternal grandfather) on "This I Believe" (we have the vinyl LP with the original recording). Mark's maternal grandfather, William Van Aken, was the mayor of Shaker Heights, Ohio, for 40 years.

I also searched information for my children on their father's side (Merlin and Lyon). (There was little on the Merlins, but much on the Lyon side of my sons’ family tree, including the fact that the Lyon ancestors were Loyalists or “Torries” who favored the British crown during the American Revolution. After the Revolution, they settled near Kingston, Ontario, on lands granted to them by the King of England.

How interesting to see how our families were part of history... I found documents telling how one of my ancestors was at the first funeral for a white person in the Youngstown, Ohio, area. I also found out, sadly, that perhaps the brother (the relationship is, as online records show, debatable) of one of my ancestors was part of the Massacre at Mystic, CT (May 26, 1637). I would like to visit the Pequot Museum...I wonder how that would feel and what I might learn.

For, in my family's history, and in all of our histories I suppose, there is good and bad. The "let's remember" and the "let's forget." But all of these events tie us to our neighbors, our country, our land, and our descendants.

The second full day of my search, I called my mother early in the morning, tears in my eyes and my throat choking up. "I wish Dad could be here to go through this information with me. He would have loved finding out about his ancestors."

And he would have loved it! Dad (in photo at left and below with my mother and sons) died in 1990, before most folks had a computer in their home and instant access to so much. I'm sure if he'd had the opportunity he would have researched his family history and then written in all out in his careful engineer's printing. I would have asked him to tell me his childhood memories, such as they were, and I would have written them down.

In any case, I'm glad for the chance to learn about our family now, and share this with my sisters, my mother, my sons, my husband...and you! I am thankful for all the people in history and in the present who have documented and researched information so that I might learn about my family.

If you have any interest in learning about your family history, give ancestry.com or another family history site a try. You might be surprised at what you learn!

Childhood Toys

Melissa Kline asked me recently if I had any toys from my childhood. A few... and so we decided to each do a blog post today on this subject. Please visit Melissa's blog at: http://www.melissakline.blogspot.com/.

Above: Here is one of three plates my father gave to me during my teen years, along with the two remaining pieces from my childhood tea set.

As a small child, I spent time at my cousin, Wanda's, house. She was of my parents' generation, so I always called her Aunt Wanda. Wanda was a registered nurse, and years later (when I had children) we lived near each other in Florida; so my children also got to spend time with her.

I remember as a preschooler planting bulbs with my red-haired aunt and walking down the street, each of us holding one hand of my stuffed toy monkey. The two cast iron figures above always sat on Aunt Wanda's windowsill in her kitchen. If you look closely, you might be able to see the small marks, where the paint is gone...this is from my teething. Nowadays, a loving aunt, let alone a registered nurse, would probably not let her toddler charge put a painted, iron 2.5-inch figurine in her mouth. Then, I don't think we thought much of it at all!

Friends of my parents traveled to Australia in the 1960s and brought back this stuffed bear for me. I loved it, and imagined a land far, far away populated with lovable bears who smell, certainly, just like the wonderful smell of this bear. Its hard little body was not very cuddly, but I loved the exotic promise it held and, oddly, I never considered from what animal the real fur of this toy might have originated.

The only book I have from my childhood is one tiny book, part of a boxed set of books, by Maurice Sendak: "One Was Johnny." Another book in the series was about a boy named Pierre who always said "I Don't Care!" This book made a big impression on me, and I remember feeling as a child that it was wrong not to care about something. That it was better to have an opinion than be apathetic, and also that it was better to care what happened to you and your life, than be passive. Perhaps those feelings started from reading Sendak's little book!

By the time a woman has lived in 9 towns in two far-apart states, as well as raised two children with all of their things, and carted around a lifetime of art supplies and books, there isn't much room for toys. Here are two tiny things that reside in a small curio shelf in our home. The baby bracelet given to me in the hospital when I was born. By the time my sons came along beaded bracelets for infants were a no-no; but there is something so sweet to me about these little beads spelling out my name. How small my wrist was!

This little hanger was made by my grandfather. He made wooden doll furniture and a pastel blue toy kitchen cupboard for me, as well as a cast iron pancake pan that I used often on a hot plate when I was in college. I was skinny then, but often made pancakes on the weekends in my room at Engleman Hall at Kent State while an art student.

Toys I wish I still had: Liddle Kiddle dolls, a stuffed dog that sat on my bed, his name was "Morgan" (my older sisters still have theirs).

Thanks, Melissa, for the trip down memory lane. Folks, please pop over and see Melissa's childhood toys: http://www.melissakline.blogspot.com/. And, if you know a teenager who needs some good summer reading, consider My Beginning, Melissa's forthcoming debut YA novel. You can pre-order it now on Amazon.

Daisy Mae, you were so very much loved...

My dear friend, Florence Clark, has shared with me that her beloved dog, Daisy, left earth in May. I wrote about Daisy on Appalachian Morning in 2009, you can see the article here. Since 2009, Flo has keep me posted on Daisy's wonderful antics and also her loving spirit as she has been such a support and help to Flo over the years. I've seen the photos, drawings, paintings, and sculptures Flo has done of Daisy and celebrated with her the transformation of the spirit of love into the visible form of works of art. And celebrated Daisy, who will be very much missed.

Here are some images and a poem from Flo.

BABY GIRL #4

I spend most of my time alone
alone..but not
lonely:
WE are almost always
Together

We know everything about
each other
WORDS are not necessary,
although I believe you understand
Everything.

You and I understand
the meanings in:
The smallest
movements-
the softest sounds-
the daily routines-
of our other
-The
You-
that is the other half of
-We-

The one who
knows
Everything
About me

May Mish-mash of Tiny News

Water! It seems to be everywhere. The earth in Southern Ohio (and sadly to a greater extent further south) is swollen with it. Plant life is lush with it, growing, expanding, dripping, filtering out the sunlight whenever it manages to shine through a cloudy sky. In this soupy environmental mix, I sit and peruse the news. And I've whittled it down to a few interesting tidbits I am calling "Tiny News."

1) Not all Tiny News is small, but "One Story" books are quite little. One Story (www.one-story.com) publishes 18 issues a year and each issue is ... one story. You can go online and order individual issues, or be smart and subscribe. The 3 issues I ordered arrived Saturday: "The Quietest Man" by Molly Antopol (#132); "The Husband" by T. Cooper (#138); and "Housewifely Arts" by Megan Mayhew Bergman (#142). I can't wait to read these little gems (they are approx. 5 x 7 inches in size and 26 or so pages, with a plain cover).

2) I recently saw a photo of Chattanooga's Hunter Museum of American Art on the Tennessee River and I would like to visit it. (This is Tiny News now, it will be bigger news if I do go and take a bunch of photos of Chattanooga. Including, hopefully, a choo-choo.

3) Colatura di Alici: "an ingredient used in Italy for centuries" states Lidia Bastianich (to the WSJ) for a burb entitled "My Magic Ingredient." "It's the juice that drains out of anchovies salted in a barrel." Hmmm.... My Magic Ingredient? Butter. Butter makes everything taste pretty darn good. I am not supposed to like it so much. Nor it's evil twin, salt. (sigh)

4) I read a lot of print and online media because I like to be surprised, see pictures of cool things, learn new things and read about other people and how their lives are going well. Sometimes I find Tiny News that sounds made up. Like a secret honor society of folks on Wall Street known as Kappa Beta Phi. They meet at the St. Regis Hotel, NY, in January and Fast Company magazine says new members "often dressed in drag, perform a far-from-PC variety show poking fun at Wall Street and government bigwigs. If the members don't like it, they throw dinner rolls."

I would very much like to see a photo taken from the audience's viewpoint, of members throwing their arms back and lobbing dinner rolls at executives onstage in drag singing poorly. I do not know why this sounds interesting to me, but it does.

I am a member of Beta Sigma Phi, a social/cultural/service sorority for women. We do not throw dinner rolls, we eat them. Except for a few who are watching their weight. Last month, we learned about flower arranging. Next month, scrapbooking. Our group is located in Ohio, but I suspect even a NY State branch of Beta Sigma Phi would not throw dinner rolls.

5) Spearmint: I have been ahead of the times. For years I have bought spearmint oil, put a drop of it in the middle of a tablespoon of body lotion (like Curel, or St. Ives) and rubbed it on my arms and legs for a refreshing pick-me-up. Now, spearmint is all the rage, says the Wall Street Journal, and you can buy "Fresh Mint Leaf Cologne" ($55 for 30ml) at jomalone.com. Or, you can buy Curel Moisture Lotion ($7.99) and spearmint oil ($14.50 for 11 ml, which will last you for many years) at the links I've indicated to save you money, time, and keep you freshly scented. Note: I have allergies and asthma, and am very sensitive (not in a good way) to cologne. My spearmint trick has never given me any problems.

6) More Tiny News: "Get to the Good Part: In Praise of Shortened Attention Spans" by Terry Teachout, author of Pops: A Life of Louis Armstrong, wrote recently in the Wall Street Journal about Oxford University Press's "Very Short Introduction" Series "in which celebrated experts write with extreme concision about their areas of expertise. Each volume in the series is about 140 pages long... ...You don't have to be in a hurry to learn from these books, for it is their compression that makes them so invaluable. Force a writer to be brief and you force him to think clearly--if he can." Oh, I love that last line! Here's a link to the series. There are 275 volumes (topics) in the series.

7) worldofmoney.org coaches kids in poor communities on financial literacy and business skills. Sounds like a good thing.

8) I love the story in the Wall Street Journal recently on the Argentinian man, Pedro Martin Ureta, who has created a huge guitar from trees (best seen from the air) in honor of his wife. It's made of 7000 trees. His wife died in 1977 at age 25. Here is link to a cool video that shows the guitar from the air!

9) "Authentically Disney, yet distinctly Chinese," that's how Disney describes Shanghai Disney which has broken ground and should be up and running in 5 years. I am saying no more....

10) Tiny News Phrases: "Even the moon looks cold." Lisa Colbert, ABC6 Columbus weather reporter. Also heard on NPR, someone being interviewed and described his "multi-hyphenated existence." I believe it was this gentleman, playwright Majahat Ali. I thought this an interesting term, familiar, I am sure to many, but one that I hadn't really heard before.

I learn something new every day. It may be Tiny News, but all that adds up, doesn't it?

"The Story of Beautiful Girl" by Rachel Simon

Like waiting for a holiday, a vacation, or a very special event, anticipation is a big part of the pleasure and following along with Rachel Simon, via her blog and Facebook page, as she did a pre-release tour for her newest book, The Story of Beautiful Girl, helped get me through winter doldrums and kept the May release date firmly in my mind. I had read the online excerpt and was sure ...Beautiful Girl would become one of my favorite books. Titles that are on a special shelf in our home. Books that transport my mind, suspend time, wrap themselves around me like a beautiful quilt of memories.
The Story of Beautiful Girl did just that.

First, as a book designer, let me take a moment to comment on the packaging of this title. The cover art was featured on a CBS Sunday Morning episode (click the link to see the episode) months before the release. When I saw it, held up proudly in Central Publishing's New York office, I called to my husband, "They're showing Rachel Simon's book!" It was exciting, because I was already familiar with the distinctive silhouette of a woman, her hair bound up in a loose bun, her face slightly downcast.

The white background of the jacket has a pearl effect; I'm not sure how that was achieved, but it is understated elegance at its finest. The font used in the title is a work of graphic art and the orange-red letters are raised off the jacket. But wait, that's not all! When you open the book you are greeted with matching colored end sheets splashed with the silhouettes of feathers. A feather is also shown on the back jacket, with a baby's hand reaching toward it. I love the simple beauty of this jacket. It fits perfectly with the story and the sophisticated design continues on each page. And now, to the story...

The Story of Beautiful Girl is dedicated to "those who were put away." Even the front matter supports the design and tone of the story, with a beautiful verse by the Reverend Nancy Lane. I'm not giving it away, because you need to get this book and find these lovely touches yourself.

Simon begins her tale in 1968, with Part I: Hiding. We meet Martha, the widow, Lynnie, a young woman who is mute and mentally disabled, and Homan, an African-American deaf man on the run. The story continues in Part II: Going (1969, 1970) and we become closer to the characters and also learn the significance of the "red feather" as well as more details of past events pertinent to the story.

I don't want to reveal much about the plot, so I'll just say that Part III: Seeking scoots us to 1980, 1988, 1993, 1995, 2001, and 2011. I like the way each chapter has a title, along with the name of the character who is the focus of the chapter and the year. We meet additional supporting characters like Kate who worked at the at the School for the Incurable and Feebleminded where Lynnie and Homan start their story, and other folks whose paths cross with Homan, Lynnie, and Martha. The child hinted at on the back jacket is Julia, Lynnie's baby, who grows to adulthood by the last chapter in a heart-stopping scene that will make you feel as if you hear the music and see the images, like a movie, like a wonderful conclusion of a meaningful film that weaves a story around your heart and enlightens your mind.

There is no doubt that this book will end up in movie form, but a film will not be as good as the book, because only with the author's words can you be brought so closely into the thoughts of these characters. A film might show the events, show other things too, and do much good in bringing to light the story of those among us imprisoned by the limitations of our approach to folks with disabilities, but it will never have subtle beauty of Rachel Simon's writing.

Simon is the author of Riding the Bus with My Sister and The House on Teacher's Lane, and has other books and anthology contributions to her credit as well. Her story is included in Thicker than Water: Essays of Adult Siblings with Disabilities. On her blog and in her books, Simon writes about her sister, Beth, her family history, "building a home with her husband" (the title on the hardcover version of The House on Teacher's Lane), and the writing life and events related to her book. She travels the country meeting with other siblings of folks with disabilities and talking before advocacy and support groups for people with disabilities and their families. And now, with The Story of Beautiful Girl, she has wrapped much of her life and heart into fiction form and presented to us a story of loss and of hope.

This is why I love fiction and those who write it well; who take what means something to them and weave it into a story, not from nothing, but from nearly everything. A writer, in some cases but perhaps not all, doesn't build a story from an empty page, but looks at everything in the world, then decides what to leave out. What is left is the foundation of the story.

In The Story of Beautiful Girl I see the shadows of what was removed. The months and years not explained in the book. The author does a good job of giving enough information so that we can fill in the blanks. It's the only way you can take a story from 1968 to 2011 in 346 pages.

I appreciated very much the Acknowledgments section, located at the end of the book. Don't skip reading this, as it is an important part of the "why" behind the story. I am always interested in how writers get ideas for their stories and Simon mentions a nameless man from 1945 as the impetus for ...Beautiful Girl.

As the parent of an adult son who has mental and physical challenges, including deafness, I noticed carefully the way Rachel Simon portrayed the thoughts and emotions of Homan. It was amazing. Only someone who has spent time with folks with disabilities and interacted with them with respect and humility can then capture so beautifully their viewpoint. This is the effort that a reader may not see within the words on each page, but for those who follow Simon's work and life, the heart in her book will come as no surprise.

You can learn more about Rachel Simon and her work at www.RachelSimon.com. The Story of Beautiful Girl, in my opinion, is suitable for readers 15 and older. I would love to see high school seniors assigned this book and having the opportunity to learn about this important chapter in our nation's history, as well as learning to see things from a person-with-disabilities point of view. We still have a long way to go in our treatment of folks like Homan and Lynnie. And, while places like the School described in this book have closed, there are still state hospitals, nursing homes, state schools, jails, and prisons where people with disabilities struggle to be understood and to have hope. Hope for the basic things all of us yearn for: safety, understanding, family, work, home.

POSTSCRIPT: Here is a 26-minute interview with Rachel Simon where she talks about the bigger issues related to how folks with disabilities and those without relate to each other. She provides insights on what life is like for some folks and how we can understand better how they are just like us. "The big joys that make up their daily life..." She also talks about the "holy work" of telling stories and the way art is woven within "The Story of Beautiful Girl."

Justice on May 1, 2011

Last night, as this early riser struggled to stay awake long enough to see the Phillies beat the Mets... (no, they did not, but if the other team has to win once in a while, then it seems fitting a NY team would win last night)... the news of Osama Bin Laden's death broke into our bedroom here in southern Ohio and shocked me from near sleep. "At last...," I thought. As I closed my eyes to sleep a while later I knew I would call my son, Bryce, the next day to let him know. For Bryce, a special needs adult, was with me and my sister, Joan, in NYC on 9/11. We were to be in the World Trade Center that morning. We slept in. (Here is a blog post about that day.) And didn't this news bring in me, as I slept and as I woke and padded to the coffee maker, a flood of emotions and memories.

I think of: Laura Gilly, a flight attendant for 9 years who quite her job to work for Cantor Fitzgerald. she was only 32. And Louis Modafferi, the captain who led Staten Island's Rescue 5 and worked on a federal rescue team. And Andrew Golkin, 30. 750 people attended his memorial service. My heart remembers the names of Lisa Egan and Samantha Egan, sisters who worked at Cantor Fitzgerald and Patrick Sean Murphy, 36, who loved his family, basketball, and fishing. He had 2 children, Maggie, 2, and Sean, 4.

This morning, I must not think of my fear and worry that day, the way my mind imagined rushing down a crowded stairway pulling my slow-walking son behind me. I must remember Wendy Faulkner, a v.p. at Aon who lived in Mason, Ohio, and known for her generosity and caring. Her family established a nonprofit group to continue her legacy of helping children in the Third World. Margaret Quinn Orloske was a "born organizer" and "American History Buff." She traveled 2.5 hrs. each way to her job as v.p. at Marsh & McLennan. Her friend is quoted in the NYT as saying "No matter what she did, she did it well."

Please remember with me Stanley McCaskill, 47, who lived with his mother in the house he was born in. He checked in with her every day from his job as a security guide at 1 WTC. My heart aches for what she must have felt that day. Thomas E. Jurgens, 26, was "one of 3 court officers who disappeared while helping victims." Gayle Greene, 51, shared a family name with me; I wonder if we were related in any way. She loved Christmas decorations. She also worked in the WTC.

Marion Britton, Donald and Jean Peterson, Toshiya Kuge, and Edward Felt were among those killed on Flight 93. Mari-Rae Sopper, Ada Mason, Chortz Ghee, Eddie Dillard, and Lacey Ivory were among those killed at the Pentagon.

I want to say their names.

I know that children died, babies newborn and unborn died. Grandpas and new fathers, pregnant women and little girls. Average Americans and foreigners. Workers and retirees. Firefighters and police officers. Receptionists and vice presidents. Flight attendants, pilots, and teenagers. Young folks like my youngest son, so full of promise and just at the start of their wonderful lives.*

Nearly 3,000 people died that day or afterward as a direct result of the attacks on 9/11. (I am not counting the terrorists.) 1,461 U.S. troops have died in Afghanistan. 4,424 U.S. troops have died in Iraq.


Other wars have cost us the following:

294 U.S. troops died in the Gulf War.
58,245 U.S. Armed Forces died in the Vietnam War.
618,000 U.S. citizens died in the Civil War.
117,465 U.S. citizens died in World War One.
418,500 U.S. citizens died in World War Two.

For many years, I was a member of a Christian church that embraced pacifism. It is impossible for me to raise my fist and say "Yes!" at news of a death of a human being without feeling a twinge of guilt, followed by embarrassment that such a conflict exists in me; in some ways I feel weak. I want the confidence to be able, were the situation to arise, to shoot someone who kills or attempts to kill someone I love. I know I would be able to do it. I know I would never be the same afterward.

To those troops who found and killed Osama Bin Laden, I will do the most forthright thing I can this morning and say, "Thank you." Thank you for doing something I cannot do myself.

My hope for the future is that extremism in any form, in any religion, in any politics, will one day give way to cooperation and dialogue. We must have hope and ideals and things to strive for. But today, this morning, I'm glad to tell my son, who breathed the ashen air on September 11, 2001, that "the bad guy who planned the whole thing" is dead.
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*Some information in this post was found in Portraits: 9/11/01, The Collected Portraits of Grief from the New York Times, (Times Books, Henry Holt and Company, New York, 2002). A few times a year I pull this book off a shelf and imagine my name, and my son's and sister's names there. And feel sorrow. And give thanks.

New Orleans: People and Animals

Well, this brings me to my last post on our trip to New Orleans...sigh. Have you enjoyed seeing glimpses of it as much as I've enjoyed telling you about it? I hope so.

Here are the various posts on our trip:

1) Wonderful Food and Restaurants
2) The French Quarter and Street Bands
3) The Garden District
4) Shopping, Books, and Miscellaneous
5) People and Animals

I want to share with you a few photos of people and animals. I realized that while it is easier and I am more drawn to take photos of buildings and landscapes and beautiful trees that, as a writer, it would be good for me to spend more time looking at people. How they are dressed. How they hold themselves. How they interact with others. What does their body language say? This new travel camera Mark gave me has a "discreet" setting (no flash and no "click"). I found that in crowds no one is really paying attention to me; I can get some good photos.


In one case, where musicians were involved, I felt hesitant to draw close for the photo I wanted (and couldn't get at night using the zoom feature...I had to be close). But then I realized that musicians who play on sidewalks in tourist centers probably aren't worried about having their photo taken.

The photo at the top of this post was taken while we were sitting at Cafe Du Monde. A group of uniform-clad schoolkids was milling about and this young lady on the left and her posture were interesting to me. I wondered what sort of books she liked to read. Would she like Lucky Press's latest YA novel, My Beginning? (By Melissa Kline) She sat on the bench a while, then got up and these young men came in and sat down and I loved their posture.

Here is my guy at Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse.


I loved the view from our table into the kitchen at Emeril's. Here is a waiter, waiting.



The photo below was another taken while we were sitting at Cafe Du Monde. It is the second photo I snapped of this scene. The first one was from my seat. Then I stood up so I could get their photographer in my picture. I call this "The Back of the Photo."


Here, below, is a couple I found interesting. I think of that saying about how people who are married a long time can start to look like each other. Something about these two says they have been together a while.



SWITCHING NOW TO ANIMALS . . .

The following photo was taken in the Garden District. I was walking along a fence looking for the perfect shot of the "house" beyond. The house is in quotation marks because it wasn't a home but a private girls' school. Then I noticed this little guy and thought of my son, Jesse, who loved these when he was a boy in Florida.


Having left our three dogs (Farley, Tyler, and Jackie) back in Ohio, we were happy to see many dogs during our trip to New Orleans. It seems a very dog-friendly city. Here are a few canine friends.







When our plane pulled into the gate in New Orleans, I snapped this photo of an airport employee waiting on the tarmac.



When we took a mule-drawn carriage ride around the French Quarter, I snapped our reflection in a shop window.



Not a photo of a person, actually but close enough, methinks, for this last photo from New Orleans. Thank you for joining me!