What Goals Do You Hope to Achieve This Year?

Happy New Year!

The idea of New Year's Resolutions is built upon the same premise that under-girds the entire women's magazine industry. The premise is that "You suck and that's sad!"

The fact that I wrote this in January and didn't post it until now is a testament to the level of my sad suckiness.

Every year, I set goals and I hope for better outcomes than I've had in the past. Every year, my list of resolutions is the same: lose weight, keep an orderly house, study the scriptures, save money.  Every January since I was old enough to hold a pen, I've been recording goals to work on my weaknesses. This year is no different than any other year. I'm still brainstorming a list of things that are wrong with me that I ought to fix.

Lately, I seem to be falling to pieces. Is it another major depressive episode? Is it my thyroid? Is it menopause? Is it a combo platter of all three--the trifecta of tiresome?

What if I listened to the advice of my best and dearest friends instead of that nasty little inner critic?You know, that imp that reads over my shoulder and whispers, "You suck and that's sad."

Maybe this year, instead of fixing what's wrong with me, I could strengthen and celebrate what is good!

This year, I want to spend my time and energy on things I love. I want to feel whole and peaceful. I want to enjoy everything.

So in order to work from a position of my strengths, Maggie will commit to the following:

• Read 24 books this year.
• Bonus points for finishing a book that I started and enjoyed but didn't finish. 
• Permission granted to not bother finishing books I'm not enjoying (*cough cough Game of Thrones). 
• Suggestion--read to go to sleep instead of binge-watching Netflix.
• Complete the #52Stories Challenge
• Suggestion--write one story each Sunday.
• This counts as 1 of 52.
• Attend the temple at least six times
• Go on a monthly date
• Must be able to spin it as nourishing to the soul
• Mulligans are not only permitted but encouraged
• I can invite
• child(ren)
• grandchild(ren)
• friend(s)
• me, myself and I
• Spend time everyday writing something
• That novel ain't writing itself
• Schedule time each week to work on family history research
• See Thomas MacEntee's Genealogy Do-Over

How would your resolution list look if you committed to working from a position of your strengths rather than focusing on your weaknesses? Comment below and follow me on You Pin Face Insta Twit

San Francisco 1906

I was surfing YouTube looking for a vintage car video for my other blog, Your Car Gal. I found this footage taken in 1906 from a Market Street Cable Car just days before the Great Earthquake. See my Article on Emma Nevada Pauline Kleine Goforth Crithfield (my mother's ex-mother-in-law)--she was there!

This video is for my Crithfield family!

How Family Tree Maker for Mac 2 Saved Me $590!

It was one of the highest ticket impluse purchases I've ever made. Usually, I limit myself to contraband Snickers.

I really love my MacBook Pro. I love iTunes, iMovie, iPhoto, GarageBand. I love not worrying about viruses and pornadoes. However, I do NOT love iWork. I have tried to get used to Pages-no luck. I also do not like Reunions 9.

Since the two main things I do with my laptop (besides using it as a portable DVD player) are word processing and genealogy, I was starting to think it was time to go back to Windows. (Please let's not start Platform Holy Wars).

I ran into Office Max for a notebook and a pen. $137 later...I came out with 2 notebooks, a pen, a thumb drive, a calculator, and Family Tree Maker for Mac 2. I figured that since my purchase also came with a free 6 month subscription to Ancestry.com, the software really only cost me $10 and saved me from making a $600 laptop purchase. So, according to Sequester logic, I saved $590, right?

So far, I've managed to update my Mac OS, install and register FTMfM2, and import my GEDCOM's. It only took one phone call to Ancestry.com tech support (PEBCAK=Problem Exists Between Chair and Keyboard).

It's a little premature to offer an opinion on the software itself. I'm hoping that it's more intuitive for the way my brain works. That will be a topic for another post.

What is your favorite genealogy software? Leave me a comment below.

Ad Disclaimer

Blogger posted a pro-Tammy Baldwin anti-Tommy Thompson ad on my blog. I opted out of ads because I don't want to passively promote candidates and causes I disagree with.

If you see an ad on here, it doesn't necessarily reflect my opinions, beliefs, or products I use or endorse. When in doubt, ask me.

This blog is for family stories. If you want to discuss politics, rant on Facebook like everybody else.

Love you!

Ida Marie Sutter

My family just got back from a lovely trip to Nauvoo. The weather was cooperative. My mother was able to join us. The children were peaceful. The roads were not under construction! In short, it was the family vacation we have pictured in our heads, but never seem able to achieve! We achieved it!

My daughter and son-in-law and their children were sealed in the temple. (See Mormon.org). This was, of course a beautiful ceremony. I was very touched by the number of friends and family members who made the sacrifice of a twelve hour round trip to join us!

Of course, any time I get to attend the temple is a time for Family History. My mom spotted the name Ida Marie Sutter in my Family File. After a few quiet minutes, she tearfully told me this little story of my great-great aunt Ida:

Ida Marie Sutter was the sister of my great-grandfather Henry Sutter. Ida was born 10 June 1871; she had a twin brother William Peter. Aunt Ida worked as a housekeeper for the priests. I followed her life through the parade of censuses and city directories. When she was 20, 28, 38, 48, 58, 68 she worked for the priests. She cooked the meals and scrubbed the floors and did the laundry and kept all of the church linens, the cassocks and surplices and altar cloths, spotless. She never married, never had children. She devoted her life to serving the priests so that they could serve God and their parishioners.

When she became old and was getting too feeble to work, Aunt Ida was let go. She had no where to go and no one to look after her, so my grandmother (Margaret Ann Sutter Mitchell) took her in. For the remainder of her days, when my father came home from work, Aunt Ida, thinking she was still at the rectory and that my bachelor dad was one of the priests, would say, "Good Evening, Father."

Ida Marie Sutter died in 1963 at the age of 91.

I'm grateful for my grandmother's example of kindness, hospitality, and compassion for an elderly aunt.

Indexing Marathon

I copied and pasted this straight from https://familysearch.org/node/1726  

Amazing! We passed the 5 million records goal in less than 16 hours and just kept going! Thank you to the 46,091 indexers and arbitrators who participated in this historic event.
Final Record Count:

• 7,258,151 Indexed

• 3,082,728 Arbitrated

• 10,340,879 Total

Celebrate with us. Print and/or share this badge online to let your friends know you helped make history!

Special thanks to McDonald's on North and Calumet for their free WIFI and $1 Diet Coke. My portion of this goal was 400 names. All from the 1940 US Census in Michigan. 


Speaking of the 1940 census. I renewed my Ancestry.com subscription and found both my parents and their families. 


I keep balking at the cost of Ancestry.com, but really, it's money well spent.

Your Car Gal--The Blog

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...

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):

• 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.

What are your sucky traditions?

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?

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.

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.

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.

• Crazy Cake
• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 cups white sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 3/4 cup vegetable oil
• 2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 2 cups cold water

1. Sift flour, sugar, salt, soda, and cocoa together into a 9 x 13 inch ungreased cake pan. Make three wells. Pour oil into one well, vinegar into second, and vanilla into third well. Pour cold water over all, and stir well with fork.
2. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 30 to 40 minutes, or until tooth pick inserted comes out clean. Frost with your favorite icing or dust with powdered sugar.

What recipe tickled your fancy as a child? Comment below.

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. 

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.

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.

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!

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.

Wecipe Wednesday: Arizona Date Pies

This is the time of year that dates are plentiful in Arizona. My dear friend Jeannie just came to Wisconsin for a visit. So these super-easy, super-yummy cakes came to mind. Tip: if you're using dried chopped dates from the raisin aisle, you might try soaking them in hot water for a half-hour or so to plump them up and make them moist.

1 cup Powdered Sugar
1 cup chopped Walnuts
1 cup pitted dates (I like Medjool--whatever you've got is fine)
2 eggs

2 Tbsp. Flour
1 tsp. baking powder

The official recipe calls for beating the egg whites until stiff and creaming the egg yolks and the powdered sugar together. You can fuss if you want. I just throw it all into the food processor until it's all well blended--it comes out the same either way. Bake in a lightly greased cupcake pan at 375 for 15-20 minutes. They should look caved in--it's ok, that's what holds the whipped cream. Cool and serve with whipped cream (real whipped cream please, not the aerosol spray stuff or the non-dairy whipped topping--trust me on this).

These are great for brunch, afternoon tea, or dessert...or whenever you've got the blues.

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.

Newbie Tuesday: I Know You Are But What Am I?

OK, true confessions time. I have to admit it and come to terms with the fact that I am a genealogical newbie.
I have been an amateur genealogist since 4th grade. I thought this blog would allow me to help others who were just starting out to avoid the research pitfalls and enjoy generation after generation of blissfully waving little leaves on their family trees.

NOT!  What the bleep do I know?

Here's what I learned this past week. I was reading Megan Smolenyak's Who Do You Think You Are. I felt my batteries recharging (Seriously, Megan, call me. Let's get together for a piece of pie). I realized that when ALL of the experts tell you to look through your home for clues you've already got, there is a reason.

I pooh-poohed that nugget of advice because we've moved so many times, all of my genealogy documents are together in the same accordion files in the same milk crate they've been in for the past three moves. This past week, I started looking at my documents with fresh eyes. I found loads of information that I didn't glean and connections I didn't make.

I can GoogleEarth addresses on censuses. What about poverty maps, like Patsy Kensit used in her episode of WDYTYA? What about starting with what you know and working backwards?

For example, when my great grandparents emigrated from England in 1893 (see previous post) they had already decided to settle in Detroit. My grandfather was a boiler makerDid he already have job prospects lined up? Was he merely banking on the boom of the industrial revolution? Were they escaping Jack the Ripper? Was he Jack the Ripper?

The point is that I have a lot more clues at my fingertips than I thought I did--just because I'm taking another, closer look at what I already have. Maybe you have more than you think you do. You just need to take a closer look.

Who Do I Think I Am Thursday: How I Made My Father Light Up Like a Christmas Tree

My father had a great passion for life-long learning. There is a scripture, Doctrine and Covenants 130:19 which reads,

And if a person gains more ^aknowledge and intelligence in this life through his ^bdiligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the ^cadvantage in the world to come. (http://lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/130.19?lang=eng)

It could almost read, "...if a person gains more knowledge...like Don Mitchell"

There are two times in my adult life that I remember making my father beam. Once, after reading The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, he asked me how the Fibonacci Sequence applied to music and I knew the answer. (That's a story for another post).

The other time was shortly after I had bought my first laptop. He had brought a diskette (remember those?) to my house and let me transfer GEDCOM files into PAF. He asked me if I could find immigration records for his grandparents who had come through Ellis Island.

The family in question were my great-grandparents, William Richard Mitchell and Alice Mary Ann Hudson. According to the family legend, William and Alice had 2 sons born in England, 1 born on the passage over, and 2 born in Detroit. The shipboard delivery of my great uncle George would certainly help narrow down their dates of passage.

I rolled up my sleeves and clicked away at www.ellisisland.org. I started with a search for "William Richard Mitchell" and guess what I got? Bupkiss. So I broadened my search and looked for just "Mitchell" Now I got 12,195 hits. Too many to wade through.

Mitchell, W=1003 hits....Hmm...many, many men traveling, not many women.
Mitchell, Alice=68...that's doable. Eliminate the ones that are too old or too young. Limit it to women were born in 1868 and who traveled around 1892, when Uncle George was born. There was only one.

We had found her. Alice Mitchell, age 25, traveling in 1893 aboard the ship Campania. I looked at Dad; he looked at me. He grinned.

Now who was traveling with her? The website did not yet have images of the manifest. So I was going to have to search for the family members one by one.

New Search...Oh look...an advanced search page. Where was that before?

So we searched for people with the last name Mitchell traveling in 1893 on Campania.

Wm. Mitchell age 25
Willie Mitchell age 4
Arthur Mitchell age 3 and
George Mitchell age 0. (Family Myth busted. Uncle George was born 5 December 1892. The ship arrived in New York on 24 June 1893. He was tiny, to be sure, but definitely 6 months post-natal.)

We had found them all. Robert Langdon had nothing on us. Dad's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. That is the look I would give anything to see again.

PS--Months later when an image of the original manifest was available online. I was amazed that anyone was able to accurately transcribe that penmanship. But guess who was traveling with the Mitchells--Mary Hudson-age 70. Alice's mother or grandmother? That's a story for another post.