Monday Meanderings - 12.26.2016

We are basking in the glow of Christmas here in ATX. Perhaps sweating in the glow would be more accurate; nothing like 80 degree temperatures and warm southerly winds on Christmas day. Ho, ho, hot!

Merry Christmas to me. Got a robocall Christmas Eve morning that "my credit card may have been compromised - please call at once." In this day and time, calls like that are naturally suspect as scams themselves, and since the small bank that issued this card was closed, I first Googled the 800 number the "Fraud Center" wanted me to call. I found comments that said both "absolutely a scam" and "this is legitimate." What to do? The message had enough legitimate information about me and the card that I decided to call back (after blocking my Caller ID).

Bottom line is the person I spoke to asked about several charges that I did not make, identified some I did and without asking me for my SSN or the security code on the back of the card or any other sensitive information suggested that I block the card and take it up with the bank on Monday. Did that, and then called the number on the back of the card for "lost or stolen" and they told me that the card had just been blocked, so it was a legitimate notification. The good news is that Visa declined all the bogus attempted charges, so we don't have to go through all the reimbursement red tape.

We get daily email updates from our neighbors through the "Nextdoor" app, and there have been numerous recent posts about coyote sightings. We live a few blocks from Walnut Creek Greenbelt, and we have heard coyotes howling over at the Pioneer Farm for all the years we have lived here. But a recent middle-of-the-day sighting of an adult coyote "Just strolling down the street" was a bit closer. How close, you ask?

At our Christmas Eve candlelight service, the minister had gathered all the children on stage to sing, and then to hear him read a children's story of the first Noel. He was encouraging participation from the kids, and when he got to the part about the angels appearing to the frightened shepherds, he asked the kiddos to show him their "afraid" face - whereupon one little urchin clapped his hands to his face and shouted, "OH MY GOD! IT'S AN ANGEL!" Well, he asked.

Happy New Year from our house to yours.

Away in a manger

The crèche is a common and popular Christmas symbol. Literally "manger" in old French, we recognize the representation of Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus in large and small formats - ranging from the "living" Nativity scenes - complete with humans and animals - to the small table-top decoration.

Many Nativity scenes are heirlooms, delicate porcelain figures passed from generation to generation; some are more mundane, such as the Playschool figures that lived in the kid's toy box for a time. Or this durable needle-point crèche that Barb made when our children were babies. It is the oldest piece in our almost accidental collection.

In the Christmas Market in Old Town Square in Prague in 1995, we found the Nativity scene that became the seminal set in our collection. Fashioned from corn husks and bits of twigs and straw, this  crèche has been on display almost every Christmas since.

In 2008, we looked into a shop window in Lima, Peru and saw these figures in a familiar setting. In addition to the native dress of the indigenous Peruvian, the stable menagerie includes llamas. The clay figures survived the trip home and are among our favorites.

By this point, we became intentional about adding to our crèche collection, and searched an open-air market in Roatan, Honduras to find this primitive little figurine.

On St. Martin, in the Eastern Caribbean, we found an unusual representation of the family, nestled in an egg in Fabergé fashion.

Every Christmas, our church hosts an Art Fair and invites sellers of items that provide an outlet (and income) for craftsmen and artists around the world. This rustic set, made in Kenya, is self-contained, closing up into a rustic little wooden box. No animals, and Mary is well-hidden within the folds of her corn-husk mantle.

In Skagway, Alaska we found a simple scene crafted by native Alaskan artists. Barb says the animal to the right is a sheep. I like to think that it's a bear, in keeping with the locale.

At the Art Fair again, this year we added one of the larger sets in our collection. Carved from Olive wood by Rwandan artisans, these figures average 6" in height. Again, native dress and custom prevails, and the menagerie features animals found in East Africa.

Mary and Joseph

I considered not including this set. It is an inexpensive molded plastic Nativity that Barb picked up to use in her ESL classes. But there may be more humanity expressed in this set than in any of the others. First the group shot.

Now take a close-up look at the expressions on some of the figures:

 

Mary: "Joseph, there's something I need to tell you."

Joseph: "I'm a father!"

Wise Man: "A baby. Didn't see that coming."

 Whatever represents the coming of the Good News to you and your family, may it bring peace and great joy this season.

Monday Meanderings - 12.19.2016

Brrr! It's cold outside! We only experience one or two really cold spells each winter and we are in the midst of one now. I admit it is pretty lame to complain about our mid-twenties temperatures when I look at all the minus numbers across the nation, but hey! There's a reason we live in the south.

Saturday was the annual Cousins Christmas get-together in the Metroplex. We go up for the day, visit with relatives that we see all too infrequently and eat a lot of tasty food. Hard to beat that.

This trip annually reminds us that 1) IH-35 is under construction. It has been for all the years we have traveled it, and there is no expectation that that will ever change. And 2) Fort Worth Traffic is as bad as Austin traffic, and that's saying a lot!

In addition to the normal activities of our church community, we host a number of neighborhood and community gatherings in our building, and often I end up running sound for these events. Last week I was at the sound desk for a Christmas program put on by a neighborhood Spanish language immersion kindergarten. The director sort of reminded me of the TV personality Sofia Vergara - very latina, very fast-talking, hair-on-fire leadership style. It was a hoot. It is very seldom I have a program director ask me if I could turn up the music. Why, yes. I can. Would you like the concrete floor to shake?

Monday Meanderings - 12.12.2016

We "winterized" this past week. In between a long stretch of rain and a cold front we had about 4 hours of pleasant sunshine, so Barb gave all the outside plants their winter haircuts and brought them indoors, and I put covers on the outdoor faucets. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Of course, it seldom does here in ATX. More often it just ices over, but nobody writes songs about that.

Interesting conversation with Marty, one of the managers at the Chuy's we frequent. He was somewhat in awe of the amount of take-out business they do at that location. We regularly see the food delivery services, such as Eat Out In, lined up to pick up orders, but had not given it much thought. Marty said that they do "thousands of dollars in take-out" on a regular baasis.

This is different than catering, which they do not do. Either folks use the delivery service, or pick it up themselves. Marty said that they made up appetizers and entrees for a wedding recently, with service for 120 people. Huh. Who knew?

In a place like Austin, you often encounter historical markers and plaques on houses and buildings. Here's one we saw the other day:

A follow-up to last weeks post - "If I ever shave my beard"

I posted last week about these 3 items that belonged to my father, and to his father before him.

And I heard from my cousin Ann, daughter of my father's sister, Marie, who provided some fascinating first-hand knowledge about these items, and the man who used them.

She recalled that "He had two other items - a mug and a leather strop to sharpen the razor. He made a soapy lather in the mug and gave the razor several swipes on the strop and shaved - usually ending up with a few nicks & bloody spots - which he covered with bits of paper until the bleeding stopped."

 "His attire when shaving was his overalls, no shirt & his BVD undershirt showing.  I can still see him since he always shaved in the living room where a coal fired heating stove kept a pan of water warm for rinsing the razor.  Grannie was a bit fussy so that is probably why he was clean shaven. I can see why she was attracted to him for he was quite handsome."

What a wonderful memory. And it reminded me of the importance of preserving memories such as this. I have often stated that the genealogical record concerns itself primarily with events; birth, marriage, death, burial, etc., but every good genealogy software program has provision for notes concerning each event, and they can be woven into a narrative, and the narrative is as important as the facts. Perhaps more so.

Thanks, Ann for sharing. Oh, and thank you for pointing out that Bedford County is in Tennessee, not in Kentucky, where I had misplaced it.

Monday Meanderings - 12.5.2016

I would like to introduce you to "Lon Nohm," our resident pecan-gatherer, newspaper wrangler and lawn care worker.

I was leaving the house the other day, but before I could get the car started, I heard some noise behind me. I got out to see what was going on and found our Vietnamese friend had darted in just as I raised the garage door, snagged the yard broom, and was busy sweeping the driveway! For sure I'm going to start leaving the lawn mower out where she can get at it. And I'm going to look twice before backing out of the garage these days.

You gotta love this town.
Two recent surveys proclaim Austin's newest accolades; first, it is the 8th most popular city in the world to get a tattoo, and second, the locals are banding together to attempt to break the Guinness World Record for Spooning. I have nothing more to say about either of these items.

If I ever decide to shave my beard - Stories for my grandchildren

I have 3 items that belonged to my father, and to his father before him, and perhaps his father's father.

All three are intended for tonsorial purposes [adjective | ton·so·ri·al | from the Latin verb tondēre, meaning "to shear, clip or crop].

 The provenance of these items is a bit vague; my faulty memory promotes the idea that they originally belonged to my father's grandfather, James William Anderson, who lived his life (of 97 years) in Bedford County, Kentucky. However a look at William's picture suggests that he had no use for instruments of this type.

His son, Jessie Virgil - my grandfather - however, was a clean-shaven man.

It is much more likely that these barber tools belonged to him.

The actual implements themselves beg for a little background research, and while I can find many similar items listed on eBay, the actual history is thin. The Crown Razor Hone was a product offered by the Crown Razor Company of Boston, a company that existed only from 1900-1930.

The Western States Cutlery and Manufacturing Company has a slightly richer history, in that it was started by H. K Platt, formerly of the Platts and Case company, a renowned knife manufacturer. H. K. moved west for his health and started making knives and razors in Boulder in 1911. He moved the company to Denver in 1920, so we can establish the age of the razor with some certainty.

I regularly use the hone to sharpen my kitchen cutlery. It works great. I have no intention of using the razor. It. Is. Sharp. How sharp is it? I could probably cut myself standing a foot away from the blade! It stays in the box, where it has been for about a hundred years.

Monday Meanderings - 11.28.2016

Pecan season is all but over, and our pecan gathering yard gnome has almost ended her daily visits. Almost. The other afternoon the doorbell rang - and rang - and rang, and I stomped angrily to the door to see who could be so annoying, and there was our pecan gathering yard gnome, with a big bag of... oranges. Or maybe tangerines. I can't quite decide.

 She wordlessly handed me the bag, pressed her palms together in a thankful gesture and left. I wonder from whose yard she gathered the oranges? Did she give them a bag of pecans in thanks? This is Austin and I haven't noticed any orange groves. Curious.

The clan gathered again to share in the blessing of family during Thanksgiving. We wonder each time where everyone will sleep, or find space to sprawl, or if there is bandwidth enough. There is never any doubt about enough food. Never a doubt.

This was a birthday Thanksgiving. Luke and Jason share the 24th, and periodically this date is also Thanksgiving. Unbelievably, this was Luke's 16th (and Jason's..... well, it was his birthday too). We celebrated with a UT-themed cookie cake.

UT-themed because his gift was tickets to the Texas-TCU game on Friday (something he had been shamelessly campaigning for for months).

Happy 16th, Luke!

And thanks to the Clan, for the blessing of coming, and sharing, and being.

Born under a wandering star - Stories from the Family Tree - Reprise

 

My father's grandfather, Thomas Starnes, looks pretty relaxed in the rocker above, but he was actually quite a wanderer. Born in 1854 in Green Co., Tennessee, he stayed there only until he was 16, and then headed to Texas. That was just the beginning.

He landed in Johnson Co., Texas but by age 24 had courted and married 18-year-old Eudora Elliott in Palo Pinto County in February, 1879.  Their first child, Maude or "Sister" was born there in 1880; likewise my grandmother Beulah, in 1883.

The next child, Earl, was born in 1886 in Henrietta, Clay Co., Texas, a few miles east of Wichita Falls; the family lived there and in Bowie, Texas, 30 miles down the road for a few years, but by 1889 had made a giant leap to White Salmon, Washington!

Lewis and Clark gave the name White Salmon to the little Indian village on the banks of the Columbia River, just across from Hood River, Oregon and it wasn't long before a full-fledged town sprang up. There, Thomas worked as a nurseryman, raising and selling fruit trees for one of the town's leading citizens, A. H. Jewett. Evidently, the letters sent back to Texas really promoted the region, because a few years later Dora's father, Samuel Elliott, and sister Sally and husband Billy Brooks arrived in White Salmon.

Thomas and Billy went into the nursery business together, in competition with A. H., but evidently were poor businessmen and today the main street of White Salmon is named Jewett Avenue - not Starnes Avenue. Defeated, the family, with the two children born in White Salmon, Lester (1889) and Archie (1893), headed back to Texas. They were back in Johnson County when Virgil was born in 1896 but the 1900 Census found the entire family - except for yet-to-be-born Loren - in Sherman, Texas. You can only wonder why they were there.

The appeal of wide open spaces was strong for Thomas. By 1905 the family was back in Indian territory again, this time in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, where the last child, Loren, was born. Sometime in this period they also lived briefly in New Mexico.

By 1910, Thomas, Dora, and some of the children were in Ontario, California. Thomas purchased some land and tried hard to be a farmer, but the call of the wild was too great. While Dora and Loren were in Texas in 1913 on a visit, Thomas sold out and he and Virgil - 17 years old at the time - took off for British Columbia Canada, expecting his wife to follow him. Dora had visited Canada previously; a manifest of Border Crossings from that period lists Thomas, Dora and Loren entering Canada from Sweet Grass Montana , but she preferred to live in California, close to where several of her children lived.

My grandmother said, "She would write to him like she was expecting him back any day and he would write her and tell her how to come to Canada; it went on that way for about two years, I think. They decided that there wasn't any use in that any longer."

Virgil describes the journey:

"We left Ontario, California, sometime in May 1913. Arrived in Edmonton, bought oxen, a wagon, and about half a ton of supplies and shipped it to Edson. There we loaded up and headed up the old Edson Trail, to the first place we had picked out on the map - Moberly Lake. 

After about two months of traveling through muskeg [bog land], up and down hills, and across rivers, so on and so forth, we arrived on Pouce Coupe Prairie. It would be late in July. After a couple of months of... travel over the old Edson Trail — building corduroy [roads] and pulling people out of mud holes, and getting pulled out in turn, mosquitoes and a few other things – the prairie looked like a wonderful place; we had no idea there was such open wonderful land in this remote country. 

So after a lot of consideration and scouting around we decided to give up going to Moberly Lake that year. Picked out a piece of land, well up on a knoll, and homesteaded. Put up a little bit of hay here, with the assistance of Mr. Timothy O'Callaghan, for our oxen, to carry us through that winter. 

Well, the funny part about it. After starting for Moberly Lake, I never got there until forty-two years later, and we drove in with a modern vehicle." 

Thomas must have at last found peace for his restless spirit; there's no evidence that he ever left the area again - not even to winter over in Dawson Creek, as so many of the prairie-dwellers did. He lived the remaining 29 years of his life in Pouce Coupe (French for "cut thumb" - ouch!) on that knoll, which is known today as Starnes Hill. He died in 1942 at the age of 87. Virgil also remained in British Columbia, marrying a Norwegian woman and spending the rest of his active years hunting and trapping - I previously told one of the family stories about him here. Dora, true to her word, remained in California until her death in 1948.

Monday Meanderings - 11.21.2016

The pecan gatherer/yard gnome has a new trick. She fetches the paper. Picks it up off the ground and places it on the cover of the recycling cart parked outside the garage. Or maybe it is just her way of indicating just what she thinks of the newspaper.

Update on the Mexican food restaurant that warned us about poor service and bad tacos. When I checked my credit card balance a couple of days later, there was a credit from the restaurant for the entire cost of the meal. I guess they were really, really sorry.

We got one of those reverse 911 calls the other evening - first one of those we have ever received. The message said they were looking for an elderly gent in our area who had wandered off. I tried to tell them I was fine, but since it was a recorded message, I don't think they were listening.

The clan is gathering for Thanksgiving. We're checking items off the list: Turkey; check. Fixings; check. Bake sweet potato pie; check. Clean house,; heck; Plug in device charging outlets; check.

Not kidding about the pie.

The Postcard Series, Part 3 - The mystery card

Delving through the postcard collection curated by my Aunt Ina, I came across a mystery card -- from Ina to Ina, in a round-about way.

The message is: "Dear Ditto, we saw this yesterday morning. It just goes straight down. We took a picture of it looking down. Hope it's good. Saw sun rise on top Pike's Peak yesterday. Wish you were with me. Ina"

A card from Ina to Ina? It appears this card was initially intended for someone else, but instead was mailed home. Not carried, as a number of the cards in the collection were, but mailed.  It is someone else that Ina wishes "were here with me." And who is Ditto?

And why address the card to Williams Court if she knew the post office - or some family member - was going to forward it in care of my parents in Fort Stockton, Texas? I'm pretty sure that Ina knew where she lived at the time.

But that partial address in Tyler got me to thinking. A math professor is bound to know her own house number, right. It's a number, right, and my aunt was crazy good with numbers. This card was addressed, and therefore most assuredly written by someone other than my aunt, whose name is also, perhaps, Ina.

The "Ditto" salutation is another clue. Ina and her major professor collaborated on a math work book published by the Ditto Corporation in 1934 - some 4 years prior to the postmark on this card. And finally, I have a number of examples of my aunt's handwriting, and a comparison removes all doubt. Another Ina, or perhaps an Ima, wrote and mailed this card.

Now the only question is, why was the card forwarded to her in care of my parents, who were living in Fort Stockton at the time? To my knowledge, Ina never lived with them. Perhaps it was expected that she would pass through there from some journey and pick up her mail, or perhaps she was there on an extended visit - she was a school teacher, with summers off, and the card is dated August.

I love a good mystery.

Monday Meanderings - 11.14.2016

The latest development with our Vietnamese lady pecan-gatherer (apart from being such a fixture in our yard and flower bed that I fear people will start mistaking her for one of those yard gnomes) is that she now rolls the trash cart from the street to the house after the trash trucks have emptied it. I wonder if I put a lawn mower out, would she start mowing the grass to make it easier to search for pecans? Maybe I should try that. I'll keep you posted.

My primary care physician is changing his practice to a "boutique" or "concierge" style, which means I had to scramble to find a new primary care doctor. I was able to sign up with a doctor that I really like, and as part of the process she needed to get my records transferred to her. I'm not sure what she will do with them - I took a look at some of the office visit notes, and I can't make out a single thing he wrote down, and I know what the visit was about! Here's a sample:

I'm pretty sure my new doctor is going to have to get a pharmacist to read this. I know I can't.

Had an unusual experience in a Tex-Mex restaurant (NOT Chuy's, BTW); the manager came over to warn of us slow service and to warn us that they had tried a new tortilla recipe and the result was that "our tortillas are not good today." Gotta respect that.

Leon Russell died this past week. Leon's music was sort of an acquired taste, but I have a couple of his songs on my "135 Best Rock Songs" playlist. I met Mr Russell once,  at - of all places - a computer expo in Dallas. I was wandering the back aisles of the exhibit hall and came across a small booth manned by a white-haired, long-bearded hippy who looked very familiar.

I commented that he was out of place, and he laughed and said that he was just baby-sitting the booth for some friends. Turns out that Leon had gotten interested in micro computers (what we called the devices before they became personal computers) while passing long hours on the tour bus. We chatted about computers a bit and about Austin a bit (he performed here often in those days), and I moved on. RIP Leon.

The Postcard Stories, Part 2 - The folks back home

This post springs from the box of 600 or so picture postcards that my Aunt Ina collected and that have been passed to me. The story focuses on 3 cards that my Aunt Lou Amma mailed back to her sisters on two separate occasions.

The first two cards were mailed by Lou Amma from Mexico, specifically Villa Acuna, Coahuilla, Mexico. They are addressed to her younger sisters, Ina and Cora Bramblett, my aunt and mother, respectively. The date, as near as I can tell,  is August 8th, 1921, just over 95 years ago. Ina was 12 years old at the time she received this card. My mother was 14.

 

The message is: "We slept on Devil's River last night and are now in Old Mexico.We drove out in the hills about 10 miles. Have much to tell about our trip. Love, your sis, Lou Amma"

The message is: "We are lunching in Old Mexico having the most wonderful time. Are leaving for San Antonio shortly. Be sweet, Lou Amma.

The questions that come to mind are, "What is Lou Amma doing in Mexico, and who is she with?" I'm guessing that she and her companions camped at Devil's River; it's still fairly undeveloped, some 60 miles from the Texas/Mexico border. In 1921 Lou Amma was 21 years old at the time, and single, since she didn't marry until she was 32.

It was about this time that she began working for the Canadian (Texas) Orphan's Home, which later became Tipton Orphan Home. Perhaps this was a "Trip abroad" before settling down.

Still single in 1928, Lou Amma must have had a yen for travel. This card was postmarked July 11, 1928, in Cody Wyoming.

The message is: "Say Ina, how would you like to be along with us? We are ready to go over the Beautiful Cody Road into the park (Wed noon). I can't begin to tell you what a big time we are having. The picture on the face of this card is of the Wind Canyon that we came through yesterday. Love, Lou Amma"

These cards are especially interesting to me because they show me an aspect of a family member that I was never aware of. When I was growing up, Aunt Lou Amma and her husband, Benny Armstrong, were down-on-the-farm people. Literally. It was a big deal to carve out enough time to come spend a couple of days with my parents. There were cows to be fed, chores to be done. No time for gallivanting around. Or so it seemed.

Monday Meanderings - 11.7.2016

One more day of this nonsense - and then we start a new period(s) of nonsense of claims, counter-claims and uncertainty. Sigh. Oh, and of course this aggravation is compounded by dumping a time change on us. How did I spend my extra hour? Hunting down and changing all the clocks!

I have mentioned the Vietnamese lady who comes regularly (multiple times a day, as of late) to search for fallen pecans. It hasn't been a big crop year, so finding any pecans at all is a long, repetitive process. We  have learned that we want to be cautious about opening the blinds - even slightly - when we first arise of a morning. Like as not, she's in the flowerbed in front of the window searching for roof-roll pecans, and one might just get a hearty hello wave from 3 feet away!

She elevated her game this past week. Barb had been shopping and when she returned, the lady approached her and pantomimed a raking motion, but it was not clear to Barb what she wanted. Remember, the lady has NO English other than Hello, as far as we know. Barb went in the house to put her groceries up and looked out to see that our visitor had snagged a lawn rake from the garage (kept right inside the door) and was raking all the leaves in the yard and driveway to uncover more pecans!

A little later, Barb was back outside and the lady pantomimed that she wanted to bag the raked leaves. This time Barb caught on quickly, so she got a couple of trash bags, which the lady filled with leaves and put in the trash before departing for the day! At this point we are wondering if we scattered some pecans throughout the house, could we get the lady to come clean our house!

The Postcard Stories, Part 1 - “Wish You Were Here”

I recently inherited two shoe boxes of postcards that were originally collected by my Aunt Ina. If you follow this blog, you know that I am fond of the stories that are preserved in letters and cards;  a few of those stories are here, here, and here.

As I thumbed through the 600 or so cards in this collection, it struck me that there were multiple stories to be told here. The first is the remarkable history of the “picture postcard” itself (and its unadorned official postal card counterpart). All but extinct now as a means of person-to-person contact, the postcard was the email of the day – and the text message and Instagram. Once, people sent a picture with a note. It was fast, easy and cheap.

Today, if you get a postcard in the mail, it is probably a commercial message from the neighborhood pizza place promoting the specials of the week, or a reminder from your dentist of your next appointment (though mine emails me now). When, if ever, was the last time you got a personal postcard from a friend or relative?

The whole subject of the history and subsequent collection of postcards (called “deltiology”) is fascinating. Like stamp-collecting, there are avid collectors and many specialties. For example, check out Austinpostcards.com. But the subject of interest right now is the card collection at hand, and the stories found on those cards.

Most of the cards feature a scene, or building, or vista of some vacation spot – the type of card you gather up at the souvenir shop and send to the folks back home with the “Wish you were here” message. More than a few promote hotels and motels  – probably available for free at the front desk.

And an interesting group of cards were from churches Ina visited in her travels. I guess you would classify these as “Glad you were here” cards.

My aunt was well-traveled, and quite a few cards contain messages from her back to family members, which were then passed back to her for curating. She had many friends through her years of teaching at TCU and involvement in numerous professional organizations, and I believe that everyone she knew sent her cards as they traveled the world. I briefly thought about compiling a list of pictured locations, but gave that up as too much work.

What about a list of foreign locales? After logging Jerusalem, Mexico City, Montreal, Hawaii, Quebec, Nassau, Hamburg, Virgin Islands, Panama, Jan Juan, Moscow, Canterbury, Amsterdam, Zurich and Kowloon - and less than 1/3 of the cards searched, I gave that up too. Suffice it to say that there are lot of locations represented.

Monday Meanderings - 10.31.2016

And a scary, candy-laden Halloween to you.

Okay, I'll go ahead and admit it. Barb and I are going to bunker in this evening, hiding in the dark, not answering any trick-or-treaters that might mistake our dark and shuttered house as a source of treats. It's not our kind of holiday.

I'll share my favorite trick-or-treat story before I go draw the drapes and turn off the lights.

Years ago, a young woman who worked in my department told about receiving a trick-or-treater one year. She lived in the very back of a very large apartment complex - so far back that no ghoulish visitors had ever ventured that far back, so she quit stocking treats that went unclaimed. So it was surprising when the door-bell rang about 9 one Halloween evening.

Checking the door, she found a teen-age boy with a goody sack, waiting for a treat. She opened the door to him and said, "Aren't you a little old for this? Besides, you don't even have a costume."

The boy answered that he was "Rudolph, the red nosed reindeer."

"No, you're not. You don't have on a costume of any kind."

Whereupon the young man took out a small pen-light, turned it on and thrust it into his nostril, where it shone through brightly.

"Wait right here. I'll go find something for you."

Ancestors, Indians, Daniel Boone and more Indians - Stories for my grandchildren

I was recently searching through my genealogy records, looking for references of Native American bloodlines in my father's ancestors. I knew there was an undocumented note that my great grandmother, Laura Jane Coleman "...was said to be part Cherokee."  But was there any proof?

Laura Jane was born in Bedford County Tennessee in late 1851, some 25 years after the Cherokee had been forced out of the state onto the "trail of tears." Her father has a pretty distinct line straight back to Essex England; however, I can't find any record of her maternal ancestors (though Laura's mamma was named Elizabeth Ann Bivens, which doesn't sound very Native American to me). I do admit, however that Laura Jane certainly looks as if she could have been part Indian. What do you think? Should I send a sample of my DNA to Ancestry.com?

 Laura Jane "Jenny" Coleman Anderson

We do know that my father's mother, who was a Starnes, lived among Indians for a good part of her life, both in Washington State and Oklahoma, and her brother Lester marred a woman who was identified on the census as 7/8 Cherokee, though her name was Mary Payne, but this would have no bearing on my having Native American ancestors.

And my search for Indian ancestry turned up this item that I posted back in early 2013. No friendly relations with the Indians here.

 Frederick and Mary Goldman Starnes

Virtually the entire Starnes line in this country can be traced back to the patriarch Frederick Starnes and his wife Mary Goldman, pictured above. Frederick and Mary were immigrants from the German Palatinate, among a group that had fled to England, and being found unwelcome there, moved on to the New World about 1710, settling first in the Hudson River Valley of New York, then along the Mohawk River in Herkimer County New York.

In 1741 Frederick lead a small group of two or three families from the Mohawk Valley of New York to settle on the Juniata River in Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, they chose land that the Delaware Indians claimed was their best hunting ground and that was too close to their tribal capitol of Shamokin.

A delegation of Indians from the Six Nations in 1742 came down to Philadelphia and lodged a complaint with Governor Thomas that these settlers were violating their treaty with the Proprietor William Penn, and demanded the trespassers be immediately removed. Richard Peters, Secretary of the Province of Pennsylvania, concerned about serving the order to vacate their cabins, fearing that the settlers might refuse and probably were armed, arrived with a detail of Militia in June of 1743. From the lack of records otherwise, it is assumed the families moved out peaceably.

Eventually, the family ended up on the Middle Fork of the Holston River, near the present town of Chilhowie, Virginia. They were not done with Indian troubles, however. Frederick was attacked July 3, 1755 by several Shawnee Indians, who fired upon him and wounded him. Frederick was able to return fire and escape the attack.

In 1779, two of Frederick's sons, my 4th great granduncles Frederick Jr. and Joseph, along with Joseph's son, Joseph Jr. and son-in-law Michael Moyer departed their homes in Washington County,Virginia and ventured into the Kentucky wilderness in search of new lands to settle and farm. Frederick Jr's son, Jacob Starnes, was already in Kentucky, assisting Daniel Boone with the construction of Fort Boonesborough.

They followed the "Wilderness Trail" that Daniel Boone and 31 axe men, (most likely including Jacob) constructed back in March 1775, a route that made a long loop from Virginia southward to Tennessee and then northward to Kentucky,a distance of over 200 miles. This route was known to be very dangerous, and knowing the dangers, Frederick Starnes made his last will and testament before leaving his home.

"In the name of God Amen, I Frederick Starns of Washington County in the Commonwealth of Virginia being of perfect health, praised by God for his mercies, make constitute this to be my last will and testament as followith~~I give and bequeath to Mary my well beloved wife one black mare which I had from my son Jacob Starns and her saddle likewise her thirds of all my estate~I likewise give and bequeath to my son David, thirty pounds Virginia and ever child younger than him twenty five pounds like money-and the remaining parts of the estate to be equally divided amongst all my children (first paying all my just debts)."

As it turns out, this was a prudent move. On April 7, 1779, Frederick Jr., his brother Joseph, Joseph Jr. and son-in-law Michael Moyer, along with 8 other men from the fort, set out to scout some land south of Fort Boonesborough. About 25 miles south of the fort, the party reached a watercourse known as the "Lower Blue Licks Creek." This would take them back onto the Wilderness Trail. Eventually, they entered the narrow Blue Licks Creek valley just below the headwater springs. Here, on the banks of the creek, in a heavily wooded area close to the Blue Licks Springs, a large group of Indians attacked the Starnes-led group. Joseph Starnes, Jr. was the only survivor. He wrote later:

"I was once in a company of four in the year 1779, April 7 over a watercourse in Virginia back of the settlements towards Boonesboro, where we were fired on by about 25 or 30 Indians, and my father (Joseph Starnes), my uncle (Frederick Starnes) and brother-in-law Michael Moyer were shot and I made my escape although they saw me for upwards of a mile and kept firing on me, but I made my escape in the cane and other undergrowth."

And you thought you had a hard day.

Monday Meanderings - 10.24.2016

Now that's more like it! The blanket is back on the bed. Of course, this is Texas, so it's likely that it may come and go a couple of times.

Went for a MRI the other day, and there is this long, long list of things that you have to check off because they present a problem for the process, since anything metal in your body will not react well when surrounded by huge, powerful magnets. Among the items on the check list is "Tattoos." Interestingly, the technician who prepped me for the procedure had a full-sleeve, brightly-colored tattoo, so I commented, "No MRI for you, huh?" Might have been a touchy subject for her - all she said was, "Nope."

At breakfast the other morning, it took me a while to figure out that this young lady wasn't horribly obese - or deformed.

My current book at the Learning Ally studio covers a little-known aspect of WWII - German submarines operating in the Gulf of Mexico. The highly successful U-boat campaigns in the North Atlantic were widely reported, but the US kept a tight lid on the fact that a couple of subs in the Gulf sank more than 2 dozen tankers and freighters over the course of several months. According to the War Diaries of the 2 commanders, they even ventured into the mouth of the Mississippi.

The book recounts the true story of a family that was aboard a Standard Fruit cargo vessel when torpedoed about 25 miles off the coast of Louisiana as the family was returning from Cost Rico (the father was a Standard Fruit employee). The family of 4 survived and were rescued.

Later, the 10-year old boy in the family received a failing grade on a report he wrote in class about his experiences. The teacher had assigned the subject of "how the war had affected them personally" and refused to believe that Sonny and his family had survived a U-boat attack in the Gulf of Mexico!

More news - from 1904

I have shared with you some of the news items that appeared in early issues of the Arlington Journal. Here's a sampling of what was making news back in January, 1904

Thursday January 21, 1904                 ALL OVER TEXAS.
R. Ramsey, a farmer in the southeast corner of Fannin county, took a load of cotton to Dial Saturday to be ginned. While unloading it he fell over in the wagon and expired.Thursday January 14, 1904

Gins, wagons, warehouses, store rooms, and every available empty room has been filled for a week with cotton bolls, waiting to be threshed and ginned. It is proving a big job.

The grand jury at Fort Worth in its final report makes the usual declaration that gambling and debauchery exists to a frightful extent in the city, but that they are unable to reach the matter. It is always that way.

Thursday January 28, 1904               The Bank Cashier Gone.
Our City has been in the throes of a genuine sensation since yesterday (Wednesday) morning. W. R. Eaves, bookkeeper and cashier of the Citizins (sic) National Bank is gone, and the bank is out $8,000. Mr. Eaves left last Saturday night ostensibly for Palo Pinto where his wife and son were visiting. He reported here that he had a telegram announcing the illness of his wife at Palo Pinto, and that he was going to see her.

Monday morning the time clock on the safe failed to respond. Money was secured elsewhere and the business of the bank proceeded as usual. Tuesday morning at eight o‘clock the combination yielded, and then the shortage came to light. The matter was kept a secret Tuesday in an effort to have the fugitive apprehended, also to make ready for a possible run on the bank. Arrangements were made with Dallas and Fort Worth to supply money to meet all emergencies. Wednesday morning the announcement was given to the public, and no town was more completely shocked.

During the day, Wednesday, about $15,000 in deposits were called for. Many others came forward and deposited more liberally than ever. Those who knew the bank best stood by it firmest while smaller depositors and those who have done little banking business were naturally most nervous.

Thursday January 28, 1904                  Uncle Sam‘s Auto.
Laredo: One of the largest automobiles now manufactured has arrived here. It belongs to the United States government and it is to be used between Hebronville, on the Texas-Mexican Road and Fort Ringgold, near Rio Grande City, a distance of ninety-five miles, for facilitating communication with that isolated post. The machine was a curiosity and a revelation to Laredo people, few of whom ever saw an automobile.

Thursday January 28, 1904           EVENTS OF EVERYWHERE.
A series of experiments with radium, startling in their scope, has been undertaken at the University of California. An attempt will probably be made to turn the skin of the negro white.

Ice in the White River at Indianapolis carried off the house boat occupied by John Schowe and wife which has been anchored on the overflowed lands. The boat was battered to pieces and Mrs. Schowe drowned.

Mrs. Louise A. Ellen was found mortally injured by a pistol shot at her home in New York Wednesday, dying soon after. Her two young children were found dead, both having been shot in the abdomen. It is believed the woman first shot her children and then herself.

Robert F. Hall of Portland, Ore., has suddenly found himself heir to an estate of $3,750,000. The property was amassed by Charles Belden Hall, a New York broker, who died in 1871, leaving his son and daughter in ignorance of the wealth he left behind.

E. A. Erlock, a banker, who claimed that Mystic influences were at work on him through the agency of his stomach bidding him kill the President, was committed to Bellevue Hospital for examination as to his sanity.

Thursday January 28, 1904                Indians Getting Restless Again.
Muskogee, I. T.: The Snake Indians and part of the Creek tribe are again in revolt and this time it seems that there will be bloodshed. They have been in constant communication with the Keoowahs of the Cherokee Nation holding councils of war, and as a result the Keoowahs have left their homes, stock, grain and everything and gone up in the Green Leaf Mountains, where they will hold their war dance and they say on their return they will kill every white man in sight. This was learned through three couriers who came in from Texana, I. T., the seat of the Keoowahs tribe. The Snakes have gone to Flat Rock, where their medicine is made, and the residents of that section await the result with anxiety.

Thursday January 28, 1904
Frank A. Biggs, aged sixty-seven years, died at San Antonio Friday. He was injured December 23 by an emery wheel breaking while he was sharpening a chisel, a piece of the emery striking him on the forehead and fracturing his skull.

Mrs. Nannie Hawpe, wife of J. R. Hawpe of Cleburne, died very suddenly in a coughing fit Tuesday afternoon.

While crossing a track from his work, August Schoenberg, a cotton screwman at Galveston, was run over, necessitating the amputation of his right leg just below the hip. The chances of his recovery are doubtful.

Monday Meanderings - 10.17.2016

So much for Fall. Back in the 90's at present. Sort of confusing. Just a few short mornings ago, I needed the snuggly to be comfortable. Now the A/C is running by the time I get out of bed.

The little Vietnamese lady is back, combing the yard for pecans. Slim pickings this year, so she is welcome to gather what she can find. Her English has not improved much, but she has mastered "Thank You." That goes a long way in today's society.

I had a brief hospital stay a couple of weeks ago and ended up in a room that can only be described as a suite. In addition to the normal hospital-type room, there was an adjoining room with a sleeper sofa, table, TV and chairs. Here, I'll show you.

When I inquired about the room, a nurse told me this was "The Lady Bird Johnson Suite." Turns out she didn't mean that specific room, but several years ago Lady Bird was hospitalized there and they literally had to make a door between two rooms to accommodate the Secret Service, family and visiting dignitaries, so the hospital built a suite to handle such situations in the future. That was certainly needed for my visit.

My current book at the Learning Ally studio is a historical narrative concerning Lizzie Borden and the axe murders of her father and step-mother, and the subsequent investigation and her trial back in the late 1890's. I knew little about this event beyond the children's rhyme, "Lizzie Bordon took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one."

Lizzie was indicted and tried for those murders, but found "Not Guilty" because the prosecution could not provide one iota of evidence that linked her to the crime. According to this book, at least, scholars who have studied the case feel that in all likelihood Lizzie did it, and the lack of evidence could be ascribed to mistakes and faulty investigation by the authorities rather than "the perfect crime" on Lizzie's part. And, by the way, it took far fewer than 81 whacks.

I get to read such interesting books.

Stories from the Tree - A small, curious item

This little item was among some recently-acquired family keepsakes. It's a name tag. Polished brass holder, measuring about 1" x 2" in size. On the back side there is a pin to attach the badge to your clothing. We are familiar with the concept; usually we see them as adhesive "HELLO" stickers, or plastic-encased credentials with our name and affiliation printed for the occasion.

The name that is typed on the paper insert (though woefully misspelled) is that of my grandfather, Lee Bramblett. And Lee Bramblett was a ginner. During his working life he owned several cotton gins and worked at others.  Here's a photo of Lee (2nd from left) and his crew at a gin he owned in Stubblefield, Texas, about 1910.

 The three boys on the right are sons Homer, Tommy and Carl. The dog was named Fritz. One look at the photo and you know that Lee didn't wear a name tag at work, nor did any of his crew. No photo-id on the end of a lanyard here.

So what called for the wearing of a name tag as a representative of the Taylor Gin Company? I'm guessing that most folks knew everybody else in town (except for whoever typed Lee's name) and I don't think there was a big annual convention and trade show of Cotton Ginners in Johnson County. And I doubt that Lee was driving around the county, repping Taylor Gin Company and admonishing cotton growers to "come gin with us."

I searched diligently for some record of the Taylor Gin Company in Cleburne, Texas, and while there were several prominent Taylor families in the region at that time, they all tended to be merchants and store keepers. Based on my grandfather's history, gins came and went with some degree of regularity, so this small, curious item will just remain a mystery.

Monday Meanderings - 10.10.2016

Happy Columbus Day. Sort of a low-profile holiday - no shelves of Columbus-related merchandise to buy. No decorations or traditions to uphold. Not even any greeting cards to purchase. Some marketer somewhere is missing the boat. Hehehe.

Well, StuckhouseATX finally made it's way to its new home in Lockhart. It didn't get there until Friday night, and I understand that another house from the same lot in Austin is scheduled to make the trip to Lockhart. Hopefully, the movers can benefit from their experience - but this is Austin.

A couple of new additions to the ATX "Best Of" awards:

Austin has been named the the most caffeinated city in Texas on a list compiled by WalletHub identifying the “Best Cities for Coffee Lovers.” However, the same list ranks Texas as a whole as a coffee lover’s nightmare. Only 3 Texas cities made the list - Austin was ranked as No. 28, Plano, was No. 27. and Laredo (?) squeaked in at the No. 100 spot, the last on the list. No surprise to hear that Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington nabbed the first and second spots on the list.

And, Austin has ranked second on a list of best cities for “urban hermits,” behind top-ranked Chicago. The calculation was based on Internet availability, stay-at-home workers, and the total number of restaurants offering food delivery and the total number of alcohol delivery companies operating in the city. Do you suppose any coffee shops deliver?

I am a fan of the phone support desks that offer to place you on the waiting list and call you when a representative is available. So much nicer than staying in a state of suspended animation while listening to insipid music. But this approach may have reached a new high (low?) the other day. My Dr. ordered an MRI and said the radiology place would call to set it up. They did. They called and an automated service asked if I wanted to be placed on a call-back list. Uhh, okay. But why not just wait until a representative was ready and call?

Any way, I opted for the call-back and a few minutes later the phone rang, the automated voice said, "Please hold" (!) and after about a 3 minute delay, connected the representative. who asked why I was calling!! Maybe they need to work on that technology a bit.

The Little House on the Street - You gotta live this town

I have blogged before about moving houses. You know, where you jack the entire structure up on rails and use big trucks to haul it down the road. Sometimes it becomes eventful, like when the structure snags telephone lines and one's father gets up in the middle of the night to deal with the situation. Or the building being moved is a story in and of itself. Those stories are here.

The latest house-moving adventure hereabouts started last Friday night when a company attempting to move an old house from Austin to Lockhart neatly lodged the building between a tree and a utility pole, sticking it well and true.

At that point, one of three things had to give: the tree, the utility pole, or the house. But this is Austin, and one does not simply cut down trees (though the mover tried, before the homeowner called the cops). The utility pole presented other jurisdictional issues, so that left the house.

But, did I mention this was Austin? It seems you need a permit to work on a house parked in the middle of the street. And a permit to block a street. You can't make this stuff up, folks. So the mover set out to get properly permitted, but, as I may have mentioned, this is Austin. Children have been born, raised, married and become parents themselves while the permit process grinds on.

So, here it is, late Tuesday, and the house is still stuck in the middle of the street.

And now, of course, the house has its own Twitter account: @StuckHouseATX.

 

On the bright side, if the house is still there on Halloween, they can claim it's haunted and charge admission to help pay the fees and fines.