Archive for the ‘This Ceases to be Funny’ Category

The Minor Children of Deaderick Collins 

October 31, 2017

I’ve been reading old newspapers online: newspapers.com, Chronicling America at the Library of Congress website, and most recently GenealogyBank.

Of course, there are still lots of newspapers that aren’t available online, and you have to go Old School with reels of microfilm and a microfilm reader.

This latest obsession started when my new DNA cousin Nick found that my 2x great-grandfather Deaderick Collins was killed when the train, on which he was a fireman, derailed. I found a newspaper account on microfilm.

Then I found online several more accounts of the same event, and then I found other accounts where 2 of Deaderick’s brothers, Hiram and Landon, were also killed in train accidents, and his cousin Richard, who was an engineer, was killed when the train’s boiler exploded. The more sensational the story, the more likely to be published. I had only heard of Deaderick and Landon Collins before I learned about the others by reading the newspapers.

It has been quite amazing to find these forgotten people.

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There’s a good bit of unexplainable detail surrounding Deaderick’s wife, the former Ruth Gamble. I can’t explain why she had 4 children after Deaderick died in 1871, for a total of 7 children: Henrietta, Maude, Charles, William, Birdie, Ivy, and Joe. She sued the railroad and had been awarded $6000 in a court case that went all the way to the Tennessee Supreme Court. A little bit of money can certainly make one more attractive.

Just how attractive? I asked the Internet to convert $6000 in 1874 to modern dollars. Here’s a screenshot.


That’s pretty darn attractive.

I wondered, though, what was Ruth’s mental state after her husband was crushed to death by a train car? She had 3 little children, the youngest under a year. How was she supposed to support a family? I would be numb. I was numb when my then-husband left in 2002. There was a new house payment, a car payment, a child in private college, and a child in high school. And attorney’s fees. I remember thinking, “What will become of us?” And I thought if he hadn’t left, if he had died, at least I could hide the truth of what a scoundrel he was.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that the facts of the two cases are the same, but the despair had to be similar.

Ruth was ill in 1913. I knew this from some old letters. I asked Chronicling America who supported this family story.



She died not long after the last newspaper account, but I can’t find an obituary.

*****

I suddenly realized that I hadn’t checked GenealogyBank for news about Ruth and Deaderick. I had been using the free 7 day trial subscription for about 24 hours when this revelation hit me. Surely there would be confirmation of the train wreck or Ruth’s death.
There was nothing on Ruth, but Deaderick?


From the Knoxville Press and Messenger, February 3, 1875:

QUORUM COURT

Qurum Court proceedings — Justice Jno. L Moses in the Chair:

M. D. Swan was appointed guardian of Henrietta, Isabella, Maud, Mag and Charles Deaderick Collins, minor children of Deaderick A. Collins. 

Y’all? Who are Isabella and Mag?

To Feed A Dog: Part One

October 8, 2014

To trespass, or not to trespass?

Sugar used to deliver the mail on a rural route in little Hardlyville.  It’s hard to be a rural carrier.

It’s a stressful job.  There’s the stress associated with the job, then there’s the outside stress.  Cold, heat, dust, rain, bad roads, angry customers, crazy people, car trouble, flat tires, you name it.

Then there’s the animals.

Dead animals on the road, wounded wild animals, litters of kittens and puppies, dogs tied up as watchdogs, dogs penned up, starving strays, cat populations out of control.

And while he’s delivering the mail, his animals are at home on the furniture in a climate-controlled environment, waiting for their specialty dinners.

Once, a particular case was weighing heavy on his mind, and he told me about it.

There was a certain house, a ramshackle trailer set back under the trees, that had dogs tied in the yard. He hadn’t seen anyone at the house in several days, and he noted that the location of the overturned bowls had stayed the same.

So he made a plan.  We would go on a Sunday morning, when fewer people would be out and about, and feed and water these dogs.

*****

We pulled up mid-morning into the driveway.  I had never seen this place before, and I was disgusted and depressed at the appearance.  The house and grounds were surrounded by junk.  Not just trash, but junk. Old furniture, car parts, household items, wood and bits of lumber, boat parts, appliances, all ruined and decaying.  The smell of moldering metal, wood, and fabric hung in the air.

We were pretty nervous.  After all, we would be trespassing if we were caught, although it didn’t appear that anyone lived here.  But what if someone drove up?  We knew that animal control wouldn’t be out on the weekend, but could we still get in trouble for being good Samaritans?  Probably.  I said that I wouldn’t take any photos to document that we had been here.

There was a dog tied at each of the two front corners of the property.  A small, flimsy wood structure consisting of 4 thin posts and a little roof, lay overturned by one dog.  The 2nd dog had a 55 gallon barrel on its side.  The first dog was a sweet hound who let us pet her.  The second dog was an enthusiastic pit mix who leaped great bounds to try to get to us.  We had to be careful to put the food and water bowls just far enough for her to get to them; otherwise, she’d knock them about with all her leaping and dragging the chain.

There was a third dog at the back corner on the right.  He barked a bit, but was glad to get the food and water.

Sugar went on around the house to the far back left corner.  He hustled back to say that something was wrong with the dog, and I hurried back with him.

Imagine that you are tied by a heavy chain to an old boat anchor.  Now imagine that you have circled around and around that boat anchor until you have made a trench in the soft soil.  The chain has become twisted over and over, and so has shortened almost as short as it can go.  And imagine that you are having some kind of inexplicable neurological issue that causes you to lose control of your limbs in a loopy, slow-motion fashion, and you can begin to understand what was happening to this dog.

I’d never seen anything like it.  The dog would stand completely normally, and then slowly his eyes would widen in fear as he anticipated the next episode, and then he would begin another tumble, once even rolling backwards in a somersalt.

This was to only be the beginning.

In Which I Am Sugar-Cured

January 4, 2014

Let’s start the New Year off with a little disclaimer. After looking at my photos, you might not want to read this blog again. Because *ACK*. (Insert sound of cat coughing up hairball.)

Just ack.

I had an issue last fall. Yet you wonder how I could single out just one in many issues. This issue pushed itself right to the top of the list.

The skin around my eyes developed a burned appearance, like sun-burned.

But I hadn’t been out in the sun, and wouldn’t my entire face be burned?

It got better. It got worse. And it continued to cycle.

It was painful, and itchy. It flaked like the after-effects of a burn. It was puffy, and red dearholyjesusgod it was red.

Sugar and I put on our mystery-solving caps.

Perhaps it was an allergic reaction to a chemical. (But I’ve been around household chemicals for years, like Clorox and detergent.)

Perhaps it was an allergic reaction to mold. (But I live in moldy, damp SC.)

Perhaps it was an allergic reaction to my glasses, because it was only happening directly around my eyes, which would be in contact with my glasses frames. (But I’ve had these glasses for months.)

I tried moisturizing creams, and cold compresses, and cucumber slices applied to my eyes. Nothing changed. The condition continued to cycle, and I’d think it was going away, and then it would return.

Sugar had a brilliant idea.

Why not go to a doctor?

A doctor? Really? Why? The doctor in this town would just refer me to someone else, and I don’t have any money.

After months, I gave in and went to see the local physician’s assistant at the doctor’s office. Who was stumped and called the doctor in. Who also had stumpage. They noted that my throat seemed red and aggravated, and so they did a strep test, even though I said yes my throat hurts a bit but it doesn’t feel like strep. I’ve had strep a couple of times, a billion (or perhaps only 25 or 30) years ago, and it feels like you have attempted to swallow a jagged fingernail that got stuck and is scratching your throat.

The solution? To use a hydrocortisone cream around the eye, not getting it in the eye, and not to use for more than two weeks. And also Claritin.

Y’all already know that this did not solve anything.

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Sugar pulled out the big guns. He got out the books, because friend internet was not helpy. He had been looking at his nutrition and vitamin books, which also were not perfectly helpy, then he remembered that years ago, he had seen a condition described as sunburn-like regarding a Vitamin B deficiency. He checked out the Vitamin B sections, which didn’t describe a sunburn condition, but did describe skin ailments with Vitamin B deficiency.

I started B-complex supplements. After a few weeks, it cleared up.

And I am Sugar-cured.

The Ghost Tour

October 27, 2013

Sugar called me last week to say that he saw a new billboard on the way to Savannah.

That sounds like exciting news, doesn’t it?  A new billboard.  Wow.

However, this billboard was featuring a ghost tour, just in time for Halloween.  It seems that the billboard was starring none other than Corinne Elliott Lawton.

The next chance we got, we drove out that way to take a photo and to complain to the management.

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Y’all call and complain, too, please.  Beautiful Corinne should not be used to hawk ghost tours.

Thoughts On Copyright Violation

September 14, 2013

Y’all already know that I use www.ancestry.com a lot in genealogical research.  They have a stated copyright policy.

What is your copyright policy?

Published 02/11/2002 03:00 AM          |           Updated 10/05/2012 06:34 PM          |           Answer ID 824

What is your copyright policy?

        Content which has been contributed to public area of the Ancestry.com Operations, Inc. sites by users remain the property of the submitter or the original creator and we are a licensed distributor of such content. Occasionally, a person may feel that content submitted by a user is their property or is covered by the copyright of someone other than the submitter. Please remember that we are the distributor of user supplied content and the submitter, not MyFamily.com, Inc., is the one who has violated copyright if such a violation has occurred. However, we will respond to substantiated claims of violation. In such a case, the person who believes they have a claim under copyright should send a claim of copyright violation to:
John-David Anderson
Copyright Agent for Notice
Ancestry.com Operations, Inc.
360 W 4800 N
Provo, UT 84604 USA
or
Email copyright@ancestry.com
All the following must be included:
– Identification of the copyrighted work claimed to be infringed, and the basis of the claim
– Identification of the material which is claimed to be infringing, including the URL
– Full contact information on the claimed copyright owner or other claimant, (who must have a license which is being infringed or other standing to make the claim.) This should include the name, address, telephone, fax and email information.
– A statement, under penalty of perjury, that the information sent is accurate and the complaining party is the owner or an authorized agent of the owner.
– A physical or electronic signature of the claiming party

I’ve noticed that one researcher in particular has used the gravestone photos that I posted on www.findagrave.com, and he has placed my photos in his public family trees on www.ancestry.com.

Is this a big deal?  Not big to me, really, but annoying.  It’s an annoying deal.  Ancestry.com has a notification feature whereby the website alerts you to new content that has been added.  So when I get an alert about new content, am I excited?  Ohmyheartbestill, you know I am.

Imagine my disappointment, which then turns to confusion, when one of the photo hints turns out to be an original photo of mine that someone has taken from a www.findagrave.com memorial that I made, and placed in their public family tree, so it looks like they own the photo.  Why would someone think that no one would notice in this great big world of internet intimacy?

I’ve taken a lot of graveyard photos, in particular the Black Swamp Cemetery in Garnett, SC.  I photographed all of the Lawtons, and y’all?That’s a lot of photos.  It was such a lottaphotos that I downloaded the spreadsheet, entered all the info (which meant studying/squinting at the photo and transcribing it by toggling back and forth between pages), including names/dates/inscriptions, and submitted the spreadsheet.  When it was approved, I then went back to the findagrave site and added the photos for every. single. memorial.  It’s a lot of work.  Throw me a bone.

So I commented on one of the photos.  I told the person in a public forum that he was in violation of copyright policy, because he had used a photo that belonged to me and placed it on www.ancestry.com as his own.

Here’s his reply, which he sent to me in a private email and not on the public page, which I have copied and pasted.

I have never “claimed” to have taken these photos. They only are photos that I have “added.” You must realize that these photos were paced on a public domain and that many other people have added these as well. These photos are not used to make a profit, and I’m not sure why you are so angry to have the relatives of these people’s gravestones be added to there family tree research. The photos are linked to Findagrave’s website where you are credited as the photographer. I have taken hundreds of photos and added to Findagrave, and very happy when others use the photos. I’m not concerned at all to be credited for the photos as they are not “artistic” or one of a kind images.

So I replied to him after thinking about the matter for ten days, and here’s my reply, which I have copied and pasted and not altered in any fashion:

I have considered what you have to say, and the facts remain.
http://www.ancestry.com has a stated copyright policy, and our opinion of what the policy means does not matter.  Copyright policy is not subject to opinion.
The photos that you have taken from my findagrave.com memorials do not have a link back to the original source.  Only the links provided by ancestry.com to findagrave.com show the source of the memorial, and people can only view them if they click on the link.  When ancestry.com send notification of “hints” to me, many times a findagrave link is in the list of hints above a photo of mine that has been added by you.  Anyone paying attention can see that I am the original source, and you are not, which serves to discredit your credibility as a respectful researcher.  When I get a list of notification of new content, I am excited to view new material, and when I discover that the new material is my original photo, I am disappointed.
I have no issue with you or anyone else using the photos as long as the original source is cited, much as a researcher must provide sources and footnotes in a thesis or dissertation.  The pool of people who research genealogy is a wide one, and respect to others and their work should be shown.
If you or anyone else choose to continue to use my photos without crediting the original source, I will continue to report the violations of copyright policy to http://www.ancestry.com.  If you would like an example of how to show credit, you can reference Boyce Mendenhall Lawton’s ancestry tree.

To many people, this is not a big deal.  And you might ask why I didn’t transfer the photos to my ancestry.com trees.  Well, it’s a lot of reasons why I didn’t.  Some of the people aren’t in my trees.  I was just doing a good deed for others who would like to see their relative’s gravesite.  Plus I was moving, starting college, changing jobs, and rescuing animals.  And even if they were in my trees, and I just didn’t put the photos there, that’s my choice and I don’t have to defend it.

If you were writing a research paper (remember the dreaded high school research paper?), you had to follow a procedure and cite your sources, whether you wanted to or not.  Fast forward to present day.  It’s just good manners in this big world where we’re probably all related.  And if you steal my research, and you ever, EVER, need a favor from me, don’t bother to ask.

It’s All Over But The Shouting

December 18, 2012

My mother-in-law had a rule for her boys.  Well, actually, they had a lot of rules, but the one that stuck out was this one:  If you tell a lie, you will be strapped.

They actually used that word.  “Strapped”.  I had a few spankings in my childhood, but no one ever used the word “strapped”.  My in-laws, on the other side of the same coin, never used the word “spanking”.  As far as I know, those boys never got strapped, but they certainly told some lies.

The thing about this rule that was most prominent in my mind was this:  You had to have a rule for that?

Everyone knows that lying is wrong.  You had to have a rule with consequences?  I still shake my head in disbelief.

Perhaps it was the difference in the cultures that we were brought up in.  I really don’t know the answer.  Really?  A rule that you will not lie?

The harder part became determining that a lie was told.  In other words, you got caught.  What if you didn’t get caught?  The rule couldn’t apply to you, because in order to be strapped, you had to be caught in the lie.

I told my mother-in-law once, “You had to have a rule for that?”, which was only a rhetorical question.  I’m still shaking my head on the whole matter.

Here’s where I’ll insert my disclaimer:  I’m not a perfect person, and I struggle with my imperfections.

But I grew up with a different set of expectations and rules.  The rules were unspoken.  You just knew what they were, and for little children, the rules were just understood.  Don’t lie.  Don’t steal.  Don’t cheat.  Don’t fight.  Be nice to your little sister.  (That last one was just for me.)

*****

Earlier this year, I had an opportunity to change jobs and work at the spay/neuter clinic.

Do you ever think that you can predict the future?  I mean simple things that are predictable because you have been in similar situations before and know how things play out.  If I drive too fast, and I get caught and get a ,ticket, and I don’t pay the ticket, what will happen?  Frankly, I don’t know what will happen because I would pay the ticket.

That’s just me.  I’m scared of stuff.  I’m afraid of consequences.  I don’t like it when I don’t know the rules.

So I decided to change jobs because I had concerns about the viability of the veterinary practice that I worked for.  I read the future.

*****

I was in for a rude awakening.  I knew the folks at the spay/neuter clinic.  I’ve been using that clinic since they opened about five years ago.  I wanted to make a difference, and I love the concept of spay/neuter.

Jumping forward about 90 days after my hiring, I was released from employment.

I applied for unemployment benefits.

(Insert jumble of paperwork, a hearing, weekly paperwork, phone calls, and the interminable job searches.)

After six weeks I received a notice that I was disqualified for benefits.

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Do you  see that part?  Click on the image to enlarge.  THAT part.  The part that says I LIED?

So now the state of South Carolina has it on file that I am a liar.

I went to the unemployment office and filed an appeal.

I went to see an attorney.  He requested the file from the state so that he could determine which part of my application shows where I freakin’ LIED.

I received another notice that there would be a telephone hearing between an officer of the state, my employer, and myself and my attorney.

The employer, during his testimony, stated that I had mispresented myself and that he told me during the interview that I would need to perform two specific procedures, and that my resume and my application both stated that I could perform those procedures.  Yet, strangely, my resume does NOT state this, and my application (of which I do not have a copy, because who does that?  Who keeps a copy of their original application before they turn it over the the potential employer?), had it been produced by the employer, does also NOT state this.

I never even had an interview.  I never had an evaluation or exam.  I never had a  working interview.  I never received a job description.  I was never asked if I could perform specific functions in a factory setting.

Initially I asked if the clinic had any openings, because I was reading the future and decided that I could not stay at my present employer.

I was told that there was an opening, and I asked for consideration for this position.

I was asked when I could start, and when could I take a urine test.

I’d like to insert here that people know me.  They know what kind of person I am.  My reputation precedes myself.

*****

 The hearing is over, and the matter is in the hands of the state.  It seems clear to my attorney that I will win the appeal.

Because really?  I want that “LIAR” part removed.

So Now I’m A Gatekeeper

November 15, 2012

Yesterday I was called a “gatekeeper”.  The tone of voice with which the message was delivered indicated disgust.

I’m always, ALWAYS surprised in the tone that people take with someone they don’t even know.  It’s everywhere, and seems especially prevalent on faceless entities like FaceBook and the comment section of newspapers and blogs.

I’m hardly a gatekeeper.  I’m more of a facilitator.  It’s true, I took the test.  I want everyone to play nice and to get along.  I personally get my feelings hurt fairly easily, especially when it’s delivered with a message like, “Oh, toughen up.”

I’m not going to get any tougher than I already am.  Telling someone not to be so nice does not add to the teller’s charm.  Rather, it makes for the opposite effect.  If you are going to talk crappy to me, then I’m not going to talk to you at all.  I’ll give you one chance past your initial crappy remark, and if you fail that chance, you weren’t that much to lose.

Yesterday, I was helping out the BabyBoy at the grooming shop by hanging around and generally being useless, and occasionally answering the phone if he was otherwise engaged, like bathing a dog.  As luck would have it, the phone rang, and the caller ID showed that it was a toll-free number, meaning solicitor, but I answered the phone anyway.

Sure enough,  a young gentleman, and I use that word loosely, asked for the previous owner.  I replied that they sold the business, so the g-man said that he wanted to speak to the current owner.

It must be a sad sort of existence to have to make those kind of phone calls for a living.  It would probably make you desperate, and angry at your fate that has fallen so low, and it could possibly make you lash out at the very people that you want to buy your products and/or services.  A true fail/fail.

I replied that the owner was absentee, so then you and I know the next step is for the g-man to ask for someone in charge, a manager, or a decision maker.  He assumed that I was not in charge.  He’s calling a small business, and if he had done his homework, he should know that lots of people in small businesses wear many hats, and they might even, God forbid, answer the telephone.

While it’s true that I’m not in charge, I do have some influence, and I have been answering the telephone in an office setting since 1972, shortly after we stopped using the two-cans-linked-with-a-string method.  I really do know what I’m doing, and I know that telemarkets pollute the circuits, and tie up phone lines, and whatever his service is, the grooming shop probably doesn’t need it.  There’s a good steady business now, and if your service is to make our website get more hits, why would we want more hits?  Global hits don’t translate into business for a small town pet grooming salon.

If someone is grooming your dog, do you want them to step away from the personal attention they are giving your dog, which would mean possibly leaving your dog unattended, and take an unsolicited sales call?  That’s such a ridiculous question on my part because you, faithful reader, ain’t no fool.

I told the nice young gentleman that our decision maker was bathing a dog and could not talk.  Of course, the gentleman wants our decision maker’s name.  Does a reasonable person give out such information?  Hmmm, thinking, thinking…

YoursTruly:  You have not yet identified yourself or your company or your purpose for calling.  I do not give out information to unsolicited callers.

Gentleman:  My name is Thomas, and I am calling from the world’s largest web-hosting service.  (I kid you not.  The world’s largest and he doesn’t identify it by name.  Wouldn’t the largest not always be the largest, because those rankings are fluid and dynamic and ever-changing?)

YoursTruly:  Thomas, I’ll take your phone number, and if he wants to, he will call you back.

Gentleman:  (with tone of disgust)  I hear that story all day long from *gatekeepers*, and they never call me back.

YoursTruly:  (Silence because I’m trying to digest that he just called me a gatekeeper.)

YoursTruly:  I don’t even have to talk to you.

Gentleman:  (Loudly)  Well, I don’t have to talk to you, EITHER!

At that point I stopped talking, and hung up.  I didn’t want to hear him singsong, “Nah nah nah nah, nah nah.”

I have been in the customer service field for many years, and yet I am not familiar with this new sales technique of call/vilify/piss-off the customers.  What purpose does that technique serve?  My caller DID go to enough customer service training that he absorbed the words gatekeeper and decision maker.

And from wikipedia, the definition of a gatekeeper.

In the past I would have drafted a letter to the company, but I have embraced new technology.  I’ll just BLOG about it.

Everybody’s Got One, Part Two

September 11, 2012

If we return back to an earlier post entitled Everybody’s Got One, you can update yourself regarding my former employer.

I say “former”because I resigned on May 24 of this year.  I gave a week’s notice, for I had obtained employment at the spay / neuter clinic, and that employment has already ended before the 90 day probation period ended.  That place has issues which I will not discuss here, yet, although you know I probably will later, given my natural proclivity for procrastination.

But now let’s talk about how everybody’s got one, or dirty little secrets.

When the veterinarian that hired me put the practice up for sale, he didn’t tell myself or my office mate.  I found the practice for sale on the internet.  When the veterinarian received an offer from another veterinarian, he left the sales agreement displayed on his computer monitor.  Imagine the level of distraction to leave that on your computer at work where your employees can find it.

Anyway, I copied the name of the veterinarian who had made the offer to purchase the practice, and I did an internet search.  I thought that surely there must be some mistake, for the man’s name led only to one person, who just happened to be in his sixties.  Why would someone in their sixties want to purchase a practice that was states away from where he lived?  And basically, why would someone in their sixties want to be a full-service veterinarian with the long hours and poor economy in this area?

I searched further.  I found a site called The Toonces Project.  You should just click on the link which will further explain who Toonces was, and why the website came to be.  Heartbreaking.

The site monitors veterinarians who have been reprimanded and, in some cases, fined for disciplinary reasons.  I found the name of the veterinarian who was purchasing the practice that I worked for.

September 14, 1993.

September 27, 1993.

And February 24, 1994.

My best hope was that I could prevent history repeating itself.  I can say that I could not.

I found another job eventually, but that did not work out.

The Dog in the Road

August 11, 2012

Yesterday morning I saw a dead dog in the road.  I was driving along to work, and wasn’t very far from home, and wasn’t even yet on the main highway.  I didn’t stop and move his body because I thought his owner would be out driving around looking for him, and would discover him there, and so would have resolution to what happened to his dog. 

Friday is a short workday for me.  I finished by 10AM and headed back home with two kittens in crates that I would take back to their owners.  (I was doing a good deed, and transporting kittens to be spayed and neutered, and then back home, which is another short story in itself.) 

The dog was still in the same spot.  I slowed down, and pulled off on the shoulder, and turned on the emergency flashers.  The car behind me drove around the dog and kept going. 

I walked over to the dog.  He was a fully grown, intact male pit bull, wearing a collar without identification.  He was probably out roaming, looking for a girlfriend, and I’d guess he previously had probably been tied out and had broken free.  I dragged him out of the middle of the road and kept pulling him until he was way off the shoulder near the ditch.  That way, I thought logically, if his owner drives by, he can see the dog’s body.  I considered bagging his body and taking him to the shelter, where they would dispose of him, but my little car was full with the two kittens in crates and I’d have to backtrack to get to the shelter.  So I left him there and went on home.

Soon I headed out to return the kittens to their home about 45 miles away, and before I got to where the dog’s body was, I saw the buzzards.  The buzzards had found him before his owner had. 

A crappy ending to a crappy life.

Biggie Shell, Part Three

August 11, 2012

Clever reader Leo has made a discovery about Biggie Shell.  Leo found Biggie on the 1910 census with Lena and 6 children.  (Click on Leo’s name and check out his blog.) 

Actually I found the same record, but was too busy yesterday transporting kittens and taking photos in the Robert (Roe-BARE) cemetery to update the blog, and Leo gets BIG props for his find. 

Biggie Shell’s 1910 census in Roane County, Tennessee.

 

And for the LilSis, she (and anyone else) can left-click on the image to enlarge, then left-click one more time to enlarge even Biggie-er. 

This is so impossible for me to imagine that computer software can read and translate this faded henscratching into words.  See if you can find Biggie and Lena and their six children. 

Did I mention, or did you compute, that when Biggie and Lena were married in 1899, Lena was 15 years old?  And 11 years later on this 1910 census, she was 26 with six children?  And in 1915 when Biggie died, she was left a widow with 6 children ages 14 and younger?  That is, unless she gave birth to more children between 1910 and Biggie’s death in 1915.  Staggers the mind, doesn’t it.  No bottles, no disposable diapers, probably no electricity or running water, no indoor toilets, should I go on?  Your mind can probably add to this list quite easily.

On that note, I certainly have no reason to complain about anything.