Genealogy Memories

Write it down, keep track of it are reminding words that accompany genealogical research. I wish I had written down all of my genealogy experiences and not just all of the information gleaned from my research. Perhaps I can retrace my steps and share two experiences with my readers.

I can still remember crying. I was about ten years old and had just received a school assignment to produce a paper showing my family history. Walking home the seven blocks from school, I began to have fears and the tears began to flow. In between sobs and wiping my eyes, I told my mother about the assignment. I had the weekend to prepare and produce something probably for the ridicule of the teacher and entire class. Her words were, "Don't worry." Such motherly advice! After I had settled my emotions, she took me to a chest of drawers where she pulled out some yellowed pieces of paper. They were from the Lewis Family Reunion in Ashe Co., North Carolina. The beginning words were "Some time about the beginning of the eighteenth century a Lewis man came across the Blue Ridge Mountains ..."

My tears turned to smiles and enthusiasm. This is not exactly the document that genealogists today care to build their entire "assignment" on, but at age ten it was worth a million dollars to me. I didn't even know the name Lewis, let alone that I had an ancestor who had gone over the Blue Ridge Mountains. I had grown up in isolation from family. All of my relatives, including my maternal grandparents, lived in northeastern Tennessee and I lived in South Dakota. Unlike my school pals, I had grown to age ten without knowing my relatives.

The assignment was completed with the help of the folks involved in the Lewis Family Reunion. I received a good grade and praises from the classmates. And I was hooked. There had to be more besides those papers. In a short period of time my parents took me to northeast Tennessee for that long awaited visit. I met my grandparents and a host of other relatives, some in North Carolina. Fortunately my Granny was a story teller, usually following them up with documents and photographs. Grandpa Steve was quiet, but occasionally I could get him to talk, particularly about his father who had served in the Confederate Army. History was coming alive compliments of my ancestors.

For me genealogical research began the moment I looked at those Lewis Family Reunion papers. In some respects it also ended there. Many years later I still cannot find good proof as to the parents of the man who came across the Blue Ridge Mountains. There are theories and ideas, some far fetched and some a possibility. I haven't stopped looking and searching, but have also moved on to researching thousands of other ancestors. My research experiences have taken me north, south, east and west. Each is diverse and provides a world of knowledge, not only of ancestors, but geography, history and culture. They are all part of my inheritance.

Many times I have experienced genealogy close to home and once in my backyard. In December of 1998 my husband and I moved from northwest Iowa to a community near Des Moines. As we prepared for the move, I began looking at my genealogy files to see if perhaps there were relatives, living or dead, in that area of Iowa. I made a list that I wanted to eventually investigate. One person leaped out on that list. She was my husband's third great aunt, Cynthia Gettis Hopson Brown. I knew very little about her other than she died 11 March 1921 in Van Meter, Dallas Co., Iowa, not far from our new home.

Once unpacked and through Christmas, I couldn't wait to investigate the records in Dallas County where she died. The courthouse in Adel proved to be a gold mine for the genealogist. I pulled a huge death record book for 1921 off the shelf, hoping to find her name in it. There she was .... Cynthia Brown, followed across two pages with vital information. The place of burial was Stuart, Iowa, my new home town. I rushed to my car and tried not to get a speeding ticket on the way back to Stuart. Screeching into a parking place in front of City Hall, I ran inside, out of breath and said "cemetery records." The clerk smiled and pulled a book off the shelf. She told me how to locate Aunt Cynthia's grave. She is buried beside her second husband and two children by her first husband.

Spring arrived and we had settled into the condo we had purchased. When we purchased the condo we were told we were also half owners of the empty lot beside it. The neighbors who lived on the other side were also half owners. They were more than willing to let us clean up the overgrown lot since it was beside our condo.

We discovered there had been a house on the lot. After removing brambles and liter that had blown in, we could see a decaying foundation. There appeared to be a stone path from the foundation out to the street. Closer to the street was an odd shaped, old pump. As the weather warmed and Iowa humidity set in, we were entertained by a show of flowers on the lot ... tulips, roses, lilies, phlox. A little stream of water flowed along the lot line, producing green hues of water cress and creeping vines. At night from our deck we watched the fire flies among the bushes and trees on "our lot."

Eventually I learned that Aunt Cynthia's husband, James Brown, had owned numerous parcels of land in Stuart. He was a contractor and carpenter, building houses, speculating and selling them. Their son owned a house down the street from our condo. It was a little cottage, now run down, abandoned and boarded over.

We were no more settled into our condo, enjoying life in central Iowa, when we decided to move back to Nebraska. Just before our move, I wrote to one of Aunt Cynthia's granddaughters who lived east of Des Moines. She mailed me a large envelope of clippings photographs and old letters. In the stack of photographs was one of Uncle James and Aunt Cynthia taken late in life. They were standing beside an odd looking pump. The background matched what I was seeing from my deck.

Life and research had gone full circle. We owned their property. Aunt Cynthia had probably planted those flowers. Had she also watched fireflies at night and admired the little stream flowing beside her house?

We moved back to Nebraska. There are many times I dream about that adjoining lot ... the flowers, the old pump, the decaying foundation, the rock path, the little stream and the fire flies. I think of Aunt Cynthia and Uncle James. I would give anything for one more evening in Iowa to watch the setting sun bounce rays off the old pump and envision her picking flowers. This is genealogy as fine as it gets!

I love those genealogy memories.

Ruby .... You Go Genealogy Girl #1

Mt. Rushmore Guards Their Souls...part 2

Our recent trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota took us on a side trip to find some old cemeteries that still exist today but were a large part of the early frontier days of the Black Hills. The second one we visited on this trip was the Mt. View Cemetery located in the active mining and now tourist town of Keystone, S. D. This cemetery, while quite small for the amount of years it has existed is probably one of the most unique that we have visited. The varied history of the community it serves gives this scenic little cemetery a proud and unique character, one which also by it's serene location seems to command one to view the final resting place of it's inhabitants with silence and reverence. Established long before the construction of nearby Mt. Rushmore, it is, none the less, protected by night and day as the granite stone "faces" of Mt. Rushmore stand guard over all the souls who are resting there. It is the only cemetery in the world with a view of Mt. Rushmore.

To imagine what the lives were like for many who are buried here, one must learn about the history of this unique area of the Black Hills. Mining in the area dates back to around 1876 with the discovery of placer gold along nearby Battle Creek. Several small settlements sprung up in the area until 1883 when the Harney Peak Hydraulic Gold Mining Company was organized to mine the area which was later to become known as Keystone. Also in 1883, the Etta Mine which was rich in mica was opened and soon the area began to produce tin oxide which was in great demand. The town was officially platted in 1891 and named after the Keystone Mine. In 1894 a rich ledge of gold producing quartz was discovered and named The Holy Terror mine after one of the miners wives! The Holy Terror mine became one of the richest gold producers in the country. Gold, mica, feldspar, tin oxide, quartz, many other minerals and even arsenic played rolls in the success and even the later failure of the economy. Early in 1900, the narrow guage railroad reached Keystone which encouraged further development of many of the mines and later was used to haul goods and equipment into Keystone to aid in the carving of Mt. Rushmore which was started in 1927. Many local men and miners were often employed in the construction of Mt. Rushmore as the wages were good in a time that mining had started to decline. During WWII, minerals from the mines near Keystone were in great demand and used in production of war goods.

Keystone had a varied and checkered past during the years of miners and saloons and the small community has seen many ups and downs since the turn of the twentieth century. Clashes over claims, serious mining accidents, several early fires which destroyed the town, and floods have claimed many lives in the area of Keystone. The devastating flood of 1972 destroyed again a large part of the business district which had been resurrected over the years to become a premier tourist area and also took out most of the original railroad tracks into the community. Loss of life in the Black Hills area was substantial and Keystone was hit hard..again.

Many times over the last century, the Keystone town and community has rebuilt- each time it has gotten bigger and better. The lumber industry, some mining, and most of all the tourists have kept this little city alive. As a kid who frequented Keystone in the 1950's and has visited many times over the years, I have watched the old town grow. Once it was a sleepy, small tourist town with wonderful little shops and now has grown all the way through the valley in all directions. Top name hotels now scavenge for land to build on, spreading into the small fingers of the valley. Beautiful eateries, shops and museums line the once again busy streets. The whistle of the 1880 Train can be heard through the valley as it stops close to the town of Keystone. The ever present Mt. Rushmore watches over the daily life.

All the while that the town of Keystone has lain beneath her, the Mountain view cemetery has taken in the inhabitants of this proud little town. An infant girl which was relocated from an old cemetery downstream was the first burial here in 1900. The older Harney Cemetery was abandoned and reclaimed by "Mother Nature".
Mountain View cemetery also is one which has seemed to reflect the history of the area with its often stylish old headstones... and beautiful handmade monuments. Several well known historical figures are interred there. Many more photos that we took in the cemetery can found here and they are as varied and unique as is the area's history.

The day we visited, we stood and marveled at the stone of Zeke Valdez, which is pictured above, it showed us that he was a worker on the construction of Mt. Rushmore. A week after our trip to Keystone was my 40th class reunion in Alliance, Nebraska. One of my classmates and friend who happens to live in Hill City, S. D. was attending with her husband. Oddly, we happened to start talking to them about our recent trip to the Hills and about visiting the old cemeteries. The stone of Zeke Valdez came up when I mentioned the unique engraving on it and it turns out that Zeke was the uncle of my friend's husband. His family has been in the Black Hills for generations and several of his relatives (including the Grover and Valdez names) are buried in the small cemetery at Keystone. How truly small this old world is! His family's pride will mark his uncle's resting place for eternity.

The little Mountain View cemetery high above Keystone is certainly a beautiful little known gem in the otherwise hurried and bustling tourist community in the Black Hills of South Dakota.

(photo link: Keystone, S. D. cemetery pics)
(photo link: Hill City, S.D. cemetery pics)
(link to part 1 of this set: "Resting in Forested Beauty")

You Go Genealogy Girl #2 --Cheri

Weekly Genealogy Activities

It was Murphy's Law at the Family History Center Wednesday afternoon. The first reel of film had plenty of those "other people" in the proper time frame, just none of mine. Back to the drawing board to rethink what I need to do. The second reel of film had the will I needed. Plunked it on the reader-printer and the machine wouldn't work. I will have to find another copier or do it the old-fashioned way by hand. Grrr!

It was Murphy's Law Friday when I went to make copies and my printer produced the message "Ink System Failure." How dare it do that! I have tried everything in the manual and online troubleshooting but nothing works. Tomorrow will be devoted to trying to get assistance by telephone. Once I get through all the routine messages of push this for that and do I want it in English, I may get to the root of the problem.

Do you use Skype? Late yesterday afternoon my computer produced strange sounds from my Skype account. Sure enough, it was my nephew calling from their camp site. I got to see YGGG #2 and Go Hubby and their gang and visit with them. Looked like they were having fun. One of the twins and the five year old were hogging the web cam ... so cute. They related all their boating experiences. I would say that's Makin' Memories. When you can't be there, Skype's the way to go!

We can look forward to a hot week here in mid-Nebraska. It will be a great time to stay put at the computer, work on genealogy and hope nothing breaks down. Wherever you are ... have a genealogy fun week and a great day all day today!

We Have Arrived

The girls have arrived in Sheridan, WY.  It was a fun trip here, as usual.  Girl #2's granddaughter came with us so she could visit her other grandmother here in Wyoming.  She is 11 years old and kept us entertained with questions and comments.  Going through little towns she would say that she blinked and we were past it.  Then giggle!  Brings back memories of when my own kids were little.  

Which brings to mind that genealogy is the game of memories.  Those memories may be your own (which you should write down) or those of relatives.  They unfold in stories, traditions and written accounts.  In course of collecting those memories, we add form and structure to the ancestors that appear as names on charts.  

It's early to bed and up early to get signed in for the Family History Expo.  A big day ahead of us and what fun it will be!  We'll chat with all of you tomorrow.