I have a new endeavor. Your Car Gal--The Blog. It's a companion to News from Your Car Gal. If you've been getting my newsletter, the content will be the same, just in a more convenient, hopefully more user friendly format.
Visit www.yourcargal.blogspot or email me at maggiemitchell@lakelandauto.com and I'll be happy to put you on my newsletter mailing list. Or you can follow me on You Twit Face.
Now back to stories about dead people...
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Monday, December 12, 2011
Listography: Some Traditions Suck!
Ok. True confessions time. I used to LOVE Christmas. My parents made Christmas magical for us. They even continued giving us gifts from "Santa" long after St. Nick himself had put us on the naughty list with all the other teenagers with bad attitudes.
When I got married and was establishing new Christmas traditions with my husband and children, I had a real struggle on my hands. My husband (now Darling eX-Husband) had a very difficult time at Christmas. I had heard of such things, but had never met anyone that actually experienced it. It wasn't until many years later that we discovered that he was struggling with Bipolar Disorder. It was a few years after that we discovered that Bipolar Disorder was a trait passed to two of our children. Hooray for DNA!
Unfortunately, many of our Christmas memories are like those of children who grew up with alcoholics. We definitely put the funk in dys-funk-tional!
So here we are, it's Christmas 2011. "DXH" is happily married to "ESM" (the kids lovingly refer to her as Evil Step-Mother--seriously, it's meant as a term of endearment!) He's stable and working. "The Hulk" is living with them and doesn't turn green nearly as often as he used to. "The Riddler" is managing his condition proactively and creatively. These are all things for which I am profoundly grateful. BUT, my children for the most part have grown up planning on Christmas being disappointing and painful. This leaves me in the throes of trying to establish all new positive Christmas traditions and Christmas memories. I'm trying to re-create Christmas magic with little money, zero time, and not much hope of success. My hope is that the kids will establish all new magical traditions with their spouses and children. My hope is that they recognize that I kept trying and never gave up.
Here is what we do every year (or nearly every year):
When I got married and was establishing new Christmas traditions with my husband and children, I had a real struggle on my hands. My husband (now Darling eX-Husband) had a very difficult time at Christmas. I had heard of such things, but had never met anyone that actually experienced it. It wasn't until many years later that we discovered that he was struggling with Bipolar Disorder. It was a few years after that we discovered that Bipolar Disorder was a trait passed to two of our children. Hooray for DNA!
Unfortunately, many of our Christmas memories are like those of children who grew up with alcoholics. We definitely put the funk in dys-funk-tional!
So here we are, it's Christmas 2011. "DXH" is happily married to "ESM" (the kids lovingly refer to her as Evil Step-Mother--seriously, it's meant as a term of endearment!) He's stable and working. "The Hulk" is living with them and doesn't turn green nearly as often as he used to. "The Riddler" is managing his condition proactively and creatively. These are all things for which I am profoundly grateful. BUT, my children for the most part have grown up planning on Christmas being disappointing and painful. This leaves me in the throes of trying to establish all new positive Christmas traditions and Christmas memories. I'm trying to re-create Christmas magic with little money, zero time, and not much hope of success. My hope is that the kids will establish all new magical traditions with their spouses and children. My hope is that they recognize that I kept trying and never gave up.
Here is what we do every year (or nearly every year):
- Plan on sending Christmas newsletter
- Plan on sending New Year's newsletter
- Plan on sending Ground Hog Day newsletter
- Shoot for next year on the newsletter
- Commit to fitness goals between Thanksgiving and Christmas
- Forget fitness goals when there is fudge in the room
- Re-commit to fitness goals for the New Year
- Forget fitness goal--it's 15 below!
- Read Samuel the Lamanite's prophecies.
- Read Isaiah's prophecies
- Make Latkes and spin the Dreydl for Hanukkah
- Listen to the children remind me that "Mom, you know we're not Jewish, right?"
- Smile three months later when same children ask if we can have a Passover Seder.
- Plan to take the kids on a ski trip in lieu of presents
- Look at bank balance and rule out ski trip
- Ignor bank balance and go skiing anyway.
- Receive $25 parking ticket for parking on the even side of the street on an odd day.
- Revisit bank balance--make a list of people to whom I can get away with giving baked goods or thoughtful homemade gifts.
- Sing The Messiah with the Symphony Chorus
- Debate the benefits of the live vs. artificial Christmas tree
- Absolutely forbid the use of tinsel
- Reverse tinsel mandate.
- Curse the tangle of Christmas lights--This tradition is passed down from my dad.
- Wonder why my Christmas tree always looks like it got dressed in the dark--blame the tinsel.
- Attend friend's Caroling party, but avoid actual caroling because it 15 below and the buffet is warm.
- Watch Charlie Brown Christmas and cry when Linus recites Luke 2
- Watch It's a Wonderful Life and cry.
- Watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Boris Karloff version) and cry.
- Watch A Christmas Story and laugh and cry--prompting children to comment on my tendency to cry over EVERY movie I watch.
- Avoid all Lifetime Made for TV Christmas movies.
- Enjoy goodies left by the "Christmas Ninjas"
- Act as "Christmas Ninjas"
- Absolutely refuse to go in to work on Christmas Eve
- Go in to work on Christmas Eve
- Show up an hour and a half late to my brother's house--see previous item.
- Shop for stocking stuffers at Walgreen's on Christmas eve becasue they're the only store still open.
- Read A Visit from Saint Nicholas
- Read Luke 2 with the kids.
- Cook a turkey and have someone ask why we're not having ham
- Cook a ham and have someone ask why we're not having turkey
- Ponder the possibility of melting chocolate on a spoon and injecting into my veins
- Sing "Santa Baby" until children beg me to stop.
- Try singing other carols to get endless loop of "Santa Baby" out of my head.
- "Santa Baby" replaced by endless loop of "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas"
- Call my family on the phone.
- Realize Christmas was just fine and wonder what I was so panicked about.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
No Blood Relation
This post is especially dedicated to my sweet niece Julie and her two sons, Kevin and Nico. She asked me, as the de facto family historian, where the Crithfields came from--I never did get back to her. Special thanks to Janet Wright for the excellent research and beautiful photos she is posting on Ancestry.com
George Ross Crithfield IV is my nephew. George Ross Crithfield III is my eldest brother. George Ross Crithfield II was my mother's first husband and my older siblings' father. George Ross Crithfield I is no blood relation.
Did your brain make that record scratch noise? Did you tip your head to the side like my dog does when I run through the house in a towel?
George Ross Crithfield IV is my nephew. George Ross Crithfield III is my eldest brother. George Ross Crithfield II was my mother's first husband and my older siblings' father. George Ross Crithfield I is no blood relation.
Did your brain make that record scratch noise? Did you tip your head to the side like my dog does when I run through the house in a towel?
In my last post, you were introduced to Emma Nevada Pauline Kleine Goforth Crithfield. Emma's first husband, Charles Goforth, died of complications from diabetes before the advent of insulin. She remarried my older siblings' grandfather Henry Crithfield. Henry Crithfield was born Henry Haueise in Brookfield, Missouri, in 1887.
From here the story gets just a little shaky. My mother always told the story that as a teenager, he was "farmed out" to help support the family. Some boys who went to live as hired hands were treated brutally, starved, beaten like rented mules. Henry, however, went to work for Mr. George Ross Crithfield, who was kind and treated him like a son. Later Henry took this foster father's last name.
Other evidence (swiped from his granddaughter Janet's public tree on Ancestry.com--I should probably have asked before posting this) suggests that Mr. Crithfield and his wife Mary adopted Henry at the age of two following his mother's death. His brothers and sisters were adopted by other families.
Either way, the impact of Mr. Crithfield's kindness has impacted my family for four generations of namesakes--but he is no blood relation.
Friday, September 30, 2011
A Post for Another Day--Emma Nevada Pauline Kleine Goforth Crithfield
My dear mother is an independent women who comes from a long line of strong English women--stiff upper lip and all that. She had her knee replaced last month. I was secretly hoping that surgery and recovery would induce her to accept some help from me and the kids. "Oh, not to worry. I'm fine."
Well, Mom was on my mind today, so, of course, I had to give her a call. Talk turned to genealogy. I've been trying to get her to tell me more about her childhood, her parents, her grandparents. She told me a wonderful story, one that she has told me many times before. It is a little worrisome that she repeats stories, I'm concerned about her memory. She will even ask, "Have I told you this before?" It doesn't matter what our answer is, she tells the story anyway. It's OK, she's a very good story-teller.
This particular story is especially amusing because, when I'm trying to get her to talk about my ancestors, she tells me about her ex-mother-in-law, Emma Nevada Pauline Kleine Goforth Crithfield. No blood relation at all, but grandmother to my older brothers and sister. (More about the importance of "no blood relation" in another post.)
My mother has always said how wonderful both her mothers-in-law were. According to my mother, Emma's father was a sea captain. Her mother came from Germany. She sailed around the horn to get to California. The captain gave up the sea and started a ranch in Oso Flaco, Santa Barbara County, California.
Emma's job on the ranch was to make the bread for the family and all the hands. She would roll up her sleeves to knead the dough and shape the loaves. One of the ranch hands, a young Charles Goforth, told her what lovely wrists she had. In a day and age when allowing your petticoat to show while dancing caused the little old ladies to comment on your virtue, a shapely wrist was probably exciting stuff--especially to a ranch hand who spends his days looking at cattle and horses.
Another time, Emma and Charles went for a buggy ride. The horse had eaten some green alfalfa and started spraying awful green alfalfa nastiness. They had to hide behind the buggy robe to avoid being sprayed with "you-know-what." Well, this struck them funny and they got a case of the giggles.
Emma and Charles were married in 1904. Early on the morning of April 18, 1906, they were awakened by their bed shaking. It continued to shake for several minutes. They grabbed onto the sides of the bed and held on. The ridiculousness of the situation struck them funny. They laughed and rode the bed till the earthquake stopped. They heard noises and people screaming in the streets. They went outside they saw that the chimney had fallen. It probably would have killed them had they gone out earlier. Then they saw the smoke and the fire across the bay in San Francisco.
When Mom was telling me this story the other day, it finally dawned on me that she was talking about THE San Francisco Earthquake and Fire.
Serendipity Moment: at the gym today, I was listening to back episodes of Genealogy Gems podcast by Lisa Louise Cook. She was talking about how to research victims of the San Francisco Earthquake and Fire. Don't you love it when that happens???
More about my Crithfield relations in another post.
Well, Mom was on my mind today, so, of course, I had to give her a call. Talk turned to genealogy. I've been trying to get her to tell me more about her childhood, her parents, her grandparents. She told me a wonderful story, one that she has told me many times before. It is a little worrisome that she repeats stories, I'm concerned about her memory. She will even ask, "Have I told you this before?" It doesn't matter what our answer is, she tells the story anyway. It's OK, she's a very good story-teller.
This particular story is especially amusing because, when I'm trying to get her to talk about my ancestors, she tells me about her ex-mother-in-law, Emma Nevada Pauline Kleine Goforth Crithfield. No blood relation at all, but grandmother to my older brothers and sister. (More about the importance of "no blood relation" in another post.)
My mother has always said how wonderful both her mothers-in-law were. According to my mother, Emma's father was a sea captain. Her mother came from Germany. She sailed around the horn to get to California. The captain gave up the sea and started a ranch in Oso Flaco, Santa Barbara County, California.
Emma's job on the ranch was to make the bread for the family and all the hands. She would roll up her sleeves to knead the dough and shape the loaves. One of the ranch hands, a young Charles Goforth, told her what lovely wrists she had. In a day and age when allowing your petticoat to show while dancing caused the little old ladies to comment on your virtue, a shapely wrist was probably exciting stuff--especially to a ranch hand who spends his days looking at cattle and horses.
Another time, Emma and Charles went for a buggy ride. The horse had eaten some green alfalfa and started spraying awful green alfalfa nastiness. They had to hide behind the buggy robe to avoid being sprayed with "you-know-what." Well, this struck them funny and they got a case of the giggles.
Emma and Charles were married in 1904. Early on the morning of April 18, 1906, they were awakened by their bed shaking. It continued to shake for several minutes. They grabbed onto the sides of the bed and held on. The ridiculousness of the situation struck them funny. They laughed and rode the bed till the earthquake stopped. They heard noises and people screaming in the streets. They went outside they saw that the chimney had fallen. It probably would have killed them had they gone out earlier. Then they saw the smoke and the fire across the bay in San Francisco.
When Mom was telling me this story the other day, it finally dawned on me that she was talking about THE San Francisco Earthquake and Fire.
Serendipity Moment: at the gym today, I was listening to back episodes of Genealogy Gems podcast by Lisa Louise Cook. She was talking about how to research victims of the San Francisco Earthquake and Fire. Don't you love it when that happens???
More about my Crithfield relations in another post.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wecipe Wednesday: Crazy Cake
When my little brother was old enough to go to school, my mother went to work. I was too young to be responsible for my rambunctious little brother; I was too young to be responsible for myself. Summertime would have been problematic if it had not been for Ruthie. Ruthie was our babysitter for that first summer. Because Ruthie's father was an Apostolic minister, her family did not watch television or go to the movies.
In the morning, we would go to Summer School. When we got home, Ruthie would come over and make us lunch and then we would play. As I recall that summer was unusually wet and we had lots of rainy days. Rather than turn on the TV, Ruthie would bring over puzzles and games. We played Old Maid and Crazy Eights. We played Authors and Go Fish. We made potholders and painted rocks. One day Ruthie taught us how to make Crazy Cake.
I had made box cakes before, and I had taken Fun with Food in Summer School. This was absolutely bizarre to me. It didn't have the ingredients that I thought it should have. It had vinegar in it, but no eggs. How could this possibly work and not taste like pickles.
"That's why they call it Crazy Cake," Ruthie said.
Every time I make Crazy Cake, I think of Ruthie and her gentle way off getting my little brother and me through that long, wet, latchkey summer. So here it is.
In the morning, we would go to Summer School. When we got home, Ruthie would come over and make us lunch and then we would play. As I recall that summer was unusually wet and we had lots of rainy days. Rather than turn on the TV, Ruthie would bring over puzzles and games. We played Old Maid and Crazy Eights. We played Authors and Go Fish. We made potholders and painted rocks. One day Ruthie taught us how to make Crazy Cake.
I had made box cakes before, and I had taken Fun with Food in Summer School. This was absolutely bizarre to me. It didn't have the ingredients that I thought it should have. It had vinegar in it, but no eggs. How could this possibly work and not taste like pickles.
"That's why they call it Crazy Cake," Ruthie said.
Every time I make Crazy Cake, I think of Ruthie and her gentle way off getting my little brother and me through that long, wet, latchkey summer. So here it is.
What recipe tickled your fancy as a child? Comment below.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Listography: Places I've lived
I have moved a lot in my life. In fact, each of my eight children was born in a different state. Well, that's not exactly accurate--my oldest and my youngest were both born in Wisconsin--but still, lots of moving in between. Lots.
Partly it was our economic situation, partly it was the Air Force, and honestly, some of it was escapism. The grass is greener, and all that. My poor descendants are going to have a terrible time tracking me down.
Partly it was our economic situation, partly it was the Air Force, and honestly, some of it was escapism. The grass is greener, and all that. My poor descendants are going to have a terrible time tracking me down.
So here's the list:
1965-1971--Detroit, Michigan
1971-1983--Algoma, Wisconsin
1983-1984--Provo, Utah
1984-1985--Orem, Utah
1985--Algoma, Wisconsin
1985--Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin
1985--Forestville, Wisconsin
1985-1986--San Antonio, Texas
1986-1987--San Angelo, Texas
1987-1990--Berlin, Germany
1990-1993--Ft. Meade, Maryland
1993--Creston, Iowa
1993-1995--Provo, Utah
1995-1997--Duchesne, Utah
1997-1998--Osceola, Iowa
1998-2006--Sheboygan, Wisconsin
2006-2010--Peoria, Arizona
2010-Present--Sheboygan, Wisconsin
Twenty-five addresses, eighteen cities, eight states, two countries--all in 46 years. That's an average of 1 year 10 months per address. I'm not yet living in the house I want to stay in, so I have at least one move left. My plan is to stay here in Sheboygan, but you know what they say... If you want to give God a good laugh, tell Him your plans.
Where have you lived? Has your family been the community mainstays or the gypsies? Comment below.
Where have you lived? Has your family been the community mainstays or the gypsies? Comment below.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Four Generations Last Chance Photo
If you want to be successful, do what successful people do. So, I am becoming a student of successful blogs. I've been visiting other genealogy blogs, including Geneabloggers.com. I mentioned in a previous post that an issue of Family Tree Magazine on the newsstand needed to come home with me. In addition to information on researching Detroit roots, was an article highlighting the years 40 best blogs.
Special thanks to Amy Coffin of We Tree. She has posted prompts to help newbie bloggers with crippling writer's block. In 2009, Amy offered 52 Ideas to Jumpstart Your Genealogy Blog. Idea number one was to upload a favorite picture.
The photo above was taken in June of 2006. The day before my children and I moved from Sheboygan, Wisconsin, to Phoenix, Arizona.
Left to right you see Katherine Joan Carroll Thurman holding Noah Wyitt Thurman, me, Donald Norman Mitchell, and Joan Frances Carpen Mitchell.
The picture not only captures meeting my new grandson, but also the last time I saw my father well. He died in October of 2009.
The stories of the move and my dad's passing are topics for another post.
Poor, Sad, Neglected Blog
So here's the problem: fourteen hour workdays, kids starting school, crippling writer's block, a terrible case of the weeps, and several nights of coming home dragging my purse behind me, deciding to sit down for just a minute and waking up in the recliner in the clothes I wore to work the day before--Eww! Plus, I suspended internet service at the house for the time being.
Blogging just isn't happening.
The good news is that we are settling into the school routine (complete with the werewolf's first nuclear meltdown of the season--you who know me, know what I'm talking about).
The other good news is that my silly, little newsletter at work is being very well received. Even people who don't want to buy a car from me have asked to stay on my newsletter mailing list. I'm getting a lot of satisfaction from my newsletter. If you would like to receive News from Your Car Gal just comment below and I'll add you to my list. You'll be getting car-buying tips, specials, coupons, recipes and a comic strip called The Dealership by Max Carroll.
Before diving back into my blog, I've been studying what other genealogy bloggers are doing. I've been checking out what I like and what I don't like. Unlike the newsletter which is for a very specific readership--and I know who is reading and who isn't--the blog is just going out into the ether and I have very little idea who my readers really are. So my blog is really more for me than for you. But you are most welcome.
Special thanks to Amy Coffin of We Tree. She has posted blogging prompts that I find very helpful in breaking through the writer's block and the resulting case of the weeps. For the next little while, I expect you'll be seeing lots of material suggested by her prompts. By all means, join me in the comments, or you own blog, or both.
Blogging just isn't happening.
The good news is that we are settling into the school routine (complete with the werewolf's first nuclear meltdown of the season--you who know me, know what I'm talking about).
The other good news is that my silly, little newsletter at work is being very well received. Even people who don't want to buy a car from me have asked to stay on my newsletter mailing list. I'm getting a lot of satisfaction from my newsletter. If you would like to receive News from Your Car Gal just comment below and I'll add you to my list. You'll be getting car-buying tips, specials, coupons, recipes and a comic strip called The Dealership by Max Carroll.
Before diving back into my blog, I've been studying what other genealogy bloggers are doing. I've been checking out what I like and what I don't like. Unlike the newsletter which is for a very specific readership--and I know who is reading and who isn't--the blog is just going out into the ether and I have very little idea who my readers really are. So my blog is really more for me than for you. But you are most welcome.
Special thanks to Amy Coffin of We Tree. She has posted blogging prompts that I find very helpful in breaking through the writer's block and the resulting case of the weeps. For the next little while, I expect you'll be seeing lots of material suggested by her prompts. By all means, join me in the comments, or you own blog, or both.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Wecipe Wednesday: Roasted Sweet Potato Sandwich
I experienced this amazing sandwich at a teacher appreciation luncheon that the PTO arranged for us. The lunch was catered by the Wildflower Bread Company in Phoenix. I was craving this sandwich, but I live 1,900 miles out of their delivery area. So I Googled...and I adapted...because I couldn't find figs to make a fig confit. So this is my mostly plagiarized version.
Sweet potato
Tomatoes
Onions
Fresh mozzarella
Chopped dates
Balsamic Vinegar
Spring greens, arugula, spinach, romaine, whatever (no Iceberg allowed!!!)
Hearty whole grain bread
Mayonnaise
Bake the sweet potato and slice it into thick slices. Slice the onion, tomato, and mozzarella. If you're using dried dates, soak them in hot water for 15 minutes or so. Drain. Drizzle with balsamic vinegar. Toast the bread. Spread the mayonnaise on one slice the date mixture on the other slice. Layer sweet potato, onion, tomato, mozzarella and greens.
I guarantee you won't miss the cold cuts. Even my carnivorous teenagers liked these!
Yes, fig confit is even better than the dates, but you work with what you have.
Do you have a favorite food that came as a total surprise? You didn't expect to love it but you do?
Comment below!
Sweet potato
Tomatoes
Onions
Fresh mozzarella
Chopped dates
Balsamic Vinegar
Spring greens, arugula, spinach, romaine, whatever (no Iceberg allowed!!!)
Hearty whole grain bread
Mayonnaise
Bake the sweet potato and slice it into thick slices. Slice the onion, tomato, and mozzarella. If you're using dried dates, soak them in hot water for 15 minutes or so. Drain. Drizzle with balsamic vinegar. Toast the bread. Spread the mayonnaise on one slice the date mixture on the other slice. Layer sweet potato, onion, tomato, mozzarella and greens.
I guarantee you won't miss the cold cuts. Even my carnivorous teenagers liked these!
Yes, fig confit is even better than the dates, but you work with what you have.
Do you have a favorite food that came as a total surprise? You didn't expect to love it but you do?
Comment below!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Newbie Tuesday: You say To-may-to; I say To-mah-to
I have had difficulty balancing work, keeping house, making a living, raising children, writing a newsletter, writing a blog, researching my family tree and on and on and on. So my blog posts have been few and far between.
I have had a recent breakthrough in my research that has restored my motivation. Again it was a matter of going back to the basics. Reading the instructions. Starting with what you know and building on it.
Rather than continuing to bash my head against the Iron Curtain Brick Wall searching for my Romanian grandfather, I decided to turn my attention elsewhere and come back to Romania later.
Where to go now? I decided to start at the top with my Mitchell line. The Mitchell line marches back fairly simply: Donald Norman, son of Norman Wilfred, son of William Richard, son of George William, son of William. (I must say the English show little imagination in choosing names for their children.)
It's with George William that I get stuck. He has been conspicuously absent from census records. In fact, it wasn't until I started searching for William Richard as a child that I found anything.
By searching for the children I was able to find the parents, the grandparents and some younger siblings that nobody knew about before. I found George's marriage record and learned that he was a mariner. This explains his absences and it also explains Patrick's passion for sailing. Check out his blog here.
I was also able to correct the mistaken identity of my great-great-grandmother. Dad had her name listed as Ellen Daily. Turns out her name was Eliza Darby--transcribed in FreeBMD as Eliza Darley. This is why seasoned genealogists advise newbies to keep an open mind about spellings.
By being open to alternate spellings, I found that the surname Schaeferling, which means Shepherd evolved from Schifferle, which means something to do with sailing ships. Another clue into Patrick's nautical blood.
I have had a recent breakthrough in my research that has restored my motivation. Again it was a matter of going back to the basics. Reading the instructions. Starting with what you know and building on it.
Rather than continuing to bash my head against the Iron Curtain Brick Wall searching for my Romanian grandfather, I decided to turn my attention elsewhere and come back to Romania later.
Where to go now? I decided to start at the top with my Mitchell line. The Mitchell line marches back fairly simply: Donald Norman, son of Norman Wilfred, son of William Richard, son of George William, son of William. (I must say the English show little imagination in choosing names for their children.)
It's with George William that I get stuck. He has been conspicuously absent from census records. In fact, it wasn't until I started searching for William Richard as a child that I found anything.
By searching for the children I was able to find the parents, the grandparents and some younger siblings that nobody knew about before. I found George's marriage record and learned that he was a mariner. This explains his absences and it also explains Patrick's passion for sailing. Check out his blog here.
I was also able to correct the mistaken identity of my great-great-grandmother. Dad had her name listed as Ellen Daily. Turns out her name was Eliza Darby--transcribed in FreeBMD as Eliza Darley. This is why seasoned genealogists advise newbies to keep an open mind about spellings.
By being open to alternate spellings, I found that the surname Schaeferling, which means Shepherd evolved from Schifferle, which means something to do with sailing ships. Another clue into Patrick's nautical blood.
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