Happy Belated Pioneer Day!

This past Sunday was our one and only real Mormon holiday. We celebrate all the standard holidays Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving--any excuse to reflect, get the family together, and serve food. Pioneer Day is our own. July 24th, 1848 is the day that  the Mormon Pioneers first entered the Salt Lake Valley. It's the day that we honor our spiritual, if not biological, forebears who made great sacrifices and demonstrated remarkable courage in the face of overwhelming odds.

There are many, many stories of courageous men, women and children who trekked west to escape persecution and enjoy religious freedom. None of these stories are mine. The closest we have is the ancestor of my ex-husband's step-uncle who started west, said Screw this! and stayed in Iowa. Not terribly inspirational--but that's a story for another post.

My mother was the first Mormon in our family's history. She is our Mormon Pioneer. Her decision to listen to missionaries in Oakland, California has impacted three generations, so far. As a direct result, my son served as a missionary in England and Wales. The ripples continue.

The fact that my mother was even born in the United States and could enjoy religious freedom is a direct result of my grandfather George Carpen emigrating from Romania in 1914--before the Communist regime.

Combine that with the courage of my great-grandmother, Hannah Mary Reynolds Goddard Moore. She was a midwife, mother of 9, and had lost her husband to pneumonia and her eldest son to the war. She took in the church laundry, sold everything to the bare walls and got on the first passenger liner to leave England after World War I.

Because of my family's pioneers, the great cosmic choreography made it possible for me to celebrate Pioneer Day with my little band of Mormon Pioneers.

"Who Do I Think I Am" Thursday: The Family Curse

My mother believes that there is some sort of family curse that causes the daughters in the family to make imprudent first marriages.

If you know nothing else about Mormons, you know that family is huge--not just in the 15-seater extended van sense. Family bonds are of paramount importance. Family is second only to, and yet inextricably intertwined with, our personal relationship with our Savior Jesus Christ. Knowledge and Family are the only things you can take with you. Anything that can have a divisive effect on the family is an evil to be guarded against at all costs. To have a family with a legacy of divorce in a faith that focuses so strongly on the sacred and eternal nature of marriage and family can be devastating.

When my sister divorced her first husband, she felt judged, misunderstood and cast adrift. She was alone in Detroit with a toddler, and tragically young. My experience was very different. My ward rallied around me. Sisters brought casseroles. Home teachers changed my locks like they did this kind if thing every Sunday after church. My children and I were loved, supported and protected throughout the ordeal--and we continue to be. Why this should be the case, I don't know. Maybe that's a subject for another post.

My parents marriage was my mother’s second attempt. They celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary one month before my father died. They kissed hello and good bye, got on each other's nerves, fought, and made up and went on. 

My mother made the comment once that she and Dad were staunch friends. As a teenager, I thought that was sad, disappointing, and somehow, anticlimactic. Where was the passion? What the heck do teenagers know? My own marriage had passion--in the form of melodrama. Crisis management was the goal. After my divorce, I began to see the wisdom of the steady warmth of staunch friendship. 

My parents were called as temple workers in the Chicago Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Having that time to travel together and work together  in the temple gave them the opportunity to renew their courtship. It was delightful to see their romance come full circle back to bliss. 

Of the 14 cousins and siblings in my generation, the boys have overwhelmingly better odds at marriage. Jimmy died in infancy and Tim hasn't been married. That gives us an even split six boys and six girls. Only one of the boys has been divorced--my brother George--twice. Only one of the girls has avoided divorce--my cousin Linda.

The curse continues to the next generation. My nieces have bet on the wrong horse, as it were. Not sure about my cousins’ children--I should write a letter once in a while and follow up. My mother has frequently lamented, “if only we could teach our girls to make wise decisions about men.” 

The good news is that most of us seem to get it right the second time around. 

The quest to discover how this family curse started and how it can be broken begins with my maternal grandparents, George and Gladys (Goddard) Carpen. Are those not delightful names for an unhappy couple? They divorced in the latter half of the 1930's. We'll see what I can learn in the weeks to come and how it relates to girls on my dad's side. 

Newbie Tuesday: FHC

This week is ganging up on me and it's only Monday. My son graduated from high school on Sunday. We weren't sure until Thursday morning that he would be allowed to participate in the Commencement exercises. Max is a big believer in deathbed repentance.

Monday, I got to work and thought,  I shouldn't be here. An hour later, stuff happened. My sister called from NoCal to tell me that my brother in SoCal had talked to our mother, who lives an hour away from me in Northeastern Wisconsin.  Mom had knee replacement surgery scheduled for this morning. She had to postpone it because she blew out her good knee. So Patrick and I drove up to see her.

When we arrived at Mom's house, the car was in the driveway, but the lights were off, the door was locked and she didn't answer the door. I called her cell phone. No answer. I called the house phone. No answer. I thought maybe, my  brother or sister-in-law had taken her to the doctor. I called my brother. She wasn't with him. We knocked again and heard Mom call out for help.  Luckily, Paul lives close by so he arrived with the spare house key in no time. Mom was all alone out of reach of her phone and unable to get up.

We consulted with Mom's doctors' offices and we were advised to take her to the emergency room. That was a less than satisfactory experience, but that's a topic for another post. Then at the pharmacy, her car wouldn't start. So we transferred her into my minivan (which smells of wet dog and sweat socks).  She is spending the night at my brother's house, which is all on one level. Patrick and I are staying at Mom's house which is all stairs. No wonder her knees are shot.

The marvelous thing about this adventure was that A) I had the opportunity to serve my mother--something her English stiff upper lip won't allow and B) We talked about family history. So, I can honestly say that I kept my end of our deal from last Newbie Tuesday. I talked to an older relative about genealogy. Did you????  If you did comment below and let me know how it went. If you did not, Chicken...Bwak, bwak, bwak!

Mom told me a little more about my grandfather...but that's a topic for another post.

Last week, which was much less dramatic, gave me the opportunity to visit our local Family History Center (FHC). Family History Centers are located throughout the world in many of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints buildings. These are local branches of the Family History Library in Salt Lake City. Services are free of charge (except for copies or a small fee if you need to order a microfilm). You do not have to be a Mormon to use the facilities. The staff is always friendly and eager to help you.

I went to the FHC at the local church and sought the advice of a very skilled, very talented genealogist, my dear friend Karen. I told her my woes:

• Flitting
• Duplicating effort
• Not knowing where to start
• Not knowing what to do next
• Not knowing how to keep my research organized.
• Not sure I'm citing my sources correctly
• What the heck made me think I could write a blog about this
• AAARGGHH!!!

Her advice gave me great comfort. She said, "Do as I say, not as I do." She also said not to allow perfectionism be the killer of "good enough."

Here is some of the guidance she gave me.

1. Start with what you know
2. Talk to old people--talk to old people who are more distant relatives--they will be delighted.
3. Keep a research log. Download one here: http://www.familysearch.org/Eng/Search/RG/frameset_rg.asp?Dest=G1&Aid=&Gid=&Lid=&Sid=&Did=&Juris1=&Event=&Year=&Gloss=&Sub=&Tab=&Entry=&Guide=ResLog.ASP   Keep track of where you've searched and what you've found, even if what you've found is NOTHING. (No more duplicating effort)
4. It doesn't have to be perfect. Good enough is good enough.
5. If you don't know what line to focus on, pray about it and guidance will come. Dead people will talk to you--but that's a topic for another post.

Your assignment (by "assignment" I mean guilt-free optional exploration activity) for this week is to go to  http://www.familysearch.org/eng/library/fhc/frameset_fhc.asp and find out where your local FHC is.

Extra credit for actually calling or visiting. Leave a comment below and let me know how it went.