AN OLD FAMILY PHOTO

Thanks to Gregg's genealogy hobby, he found this old photo of my father's side of our family.  

Usually in these old photos people don't smile this much, but everyone here is either smiling or laughing.  After a minute or two I find myself smiling as I study all their faces.  It's not that nothing bad ever happened.  This was taken post WWII and I remember stories of people lost during the war and the hardships experienced back home, serious illnesses for some. But here I am looking at this wonderful family, and smiling at all those lovely faces.  Such a joyful photo!

As was the way back in those days as many of you will remember, there were no TV's and we entertained ourselves by listening to each other.  From childhood I remember sitting on the floor cross-legged, loving the tales that were told, and some were pretty darned funny.  And then there were the sing-songs.  My Dad played the piano and we would all gather around and sing.  We didn’t care if anyone sang out of tune, we didn’t even notice.  Family coming and going, the kettle always whistling and the tea always brewing. We entertained ourselves by telling stories of real-life experiences. I still to this day would rather listen to a good story than watch a TV show or a movie.  

And here I am looking at this lovely photo wondering what had been said to tickle everyone's funny bone, from the oldest member of the family to the youngest.  Several seemed to be looking in the direction of the young lady on the left, middle row.  My great-uncle is just to the left of center, with his hand up to the side of his head.  

Do you have your own memories of how your family entertained themselves?  I would love to hear about them. 

QUITE A STORY - GREGG'S 4TH GREAT-AUNT THROUGH MARRIAGE

This week is turning into the sharing of Gregg's relatives he found on Ancestry recently.  Genealogy has become one of his hobbies, having more time to do these things since retiring.  It is a jewel of a story I felt worthy of sharing.  We do have her name but as I mentioned before, I don't use it for the sake of privacy, not just for us but for other members of his family.  I would like to thank the person who originally shared this story, and to my dear other half for showing it to me.  It truly is amazing. 

"A satchel in her hand, this young Norwegian girl was born in Bergen, Norway, on January 20th, 1833.  She was one of a large family of brothers and sisters. 

Early in life she developed a calling for the care of the sick. It followed her from her native Norway, first to Iowa and eventually to the Dakota Territory.  Trained in the old and honorable Scandinavian profession of midwifery, she fulfilled the tradition of generations of women in her family.  

With her little black satchel, the hallmark of her profession as midwife and still a young girl, she moved to Iowa just prior to the Civil War.  There she married her husband and came with him to the Blue Blanket territory in 1886.

To the young Norwegian wives and mothers of this community, our heroin came as a gift from heaven.  Many of those homesick girls with their first babies could speak no word of English.  This small woman with her kind hands and indomitable courage brought the memory of their homes in Norway, with the firm ministrations of the trained midwives of that land.  Gradually her fame spread from her own community to those adjoining.  

Many years ahead of her generation in the firm conviction that cleanliness was the first requisite in the care of any illness, she went on to calmly combat age-old superstions on the one hand, and the rather sour disapproval of the medical profession on the other.  With quiet insistence she substituted clean hot water for warm chicken blood or weasel skins for treatment of infections, boiled water and boiled milk in typhoid cases, clean linen and rigid sanitation for obstetrics.  The physicians of her day gave her first grudging acceptance, and finally whole-hearted admiration and respect.  

Digressing for a moment, let it be said that there were no hospital-trained nurses in these communities at that time, and the average so-called midwife entirely untrained, justified the physicians darkest suspicions.  They were well meaning enough, but too often the doctor's best efforts were frustrated, and his work undone through sheer ignorance. 

Our heroin as I call her, delivered countless babies alone, often under the most trying circumstances.  No one ever asked for her help in vain.  Night or day, in the bitter cold of winter, the mud of early spring and fall, the prostrating heat of Dakota summers, she traveled to aid the sick, minister to the newborn or the dying, rejoice with the happy relief of convalescence, or comfort the bereft.

Her stature was small, she was a tiny woman, but she was mighty in spirit.  Though not entirely understanding, her patients and friends learned to respect her principals, and it became a standing joke to say, "She is coming, put the kettles on!"

Many times a weary doctor, worn out with the battle for life on a difficult case, drew a deep breath of relief at the advent of this small, calm, smiling woman, knowing that in her capable hands his work would be safe.  One early day physician, receiving tearful and heartfelt thanks for a life saved, paid her deserving tribute, "Rather thank this dear lady" he said.  "The doctor is the big gun but she is the man behind the big gun!"

Men and women, grandparents in their turn, recited her legend.  The stories of her exploits are many and varied.  One elderly lady tells of the birth of her first born child during the dreadful winter of '88.  Seven times on ski and snow shoe, our heroin made the perilous distance over deep snow and ice and through a raging blizzard before that baby made his reluctant appearance.  

Another time during the breaking of the ice in the Missouri River, she crossed the river in a row boat helped by two American Indians, one of whom rowed the boat, the other fending off the swirling chunks of ice that threatened to smash the frail craft to kindling.  One small woman sat in the middle of the boat, no doubt she prayed.  She was needed on that farther bank and she went.

Many were the anxious eyes during those years that watched for her tiny figure, carrying her little black satchel.  A little black satchel of magical properties, for out of it came all sorts of comforts and necessities, and such an amazing supply of pepperming drops for "good children."

In her later years she became Grandma not only to her own grandchildren, but to the whole community.  She died in 1914 at the age of 81.  Of her living children (not sure the date of this article), one son lives in Selby, South Dakota, one in Bremerton, Washington and one somewhere in California.  Across half of the world, from Bergen, Norway to a pioneer community on the South Dakota Prairie, our heroin carried her gift of service in her heart.  A Florence Nightingale of the Prairie, with a little black satchel in her hand."

An amazing story, and no doubt one of millions brought to this country by immigrants who came here from every part of the world.

One of my longer posts and thank you for taking the time to read.  Have a great day!

MORE OLD FAMILY PHOTOS

Here are more finds from Gregg's genealogy search, old photos of his side of the family, distant cousins, on his mother's side.

 All these photos we are guessing were taken in the early 1900s.

This young lady lived to be 104 years' old.

OLD FAMILY PHOTOS

Every now and again my dear other half comes across very old photos of relatives, either through Ancestry or from relatives who often identify them.  We are always grateful, as we love these old photos and consider them treasures. In the photo above is a great-great grandfather and his new bride we think, perhaps on their wedding day in 1907.  We do know their names but out of respect for the rest of the family members, we keep that to ourselves.  The two young ladies below we are not sure of except they are sisters. I love their coats, that big hat and the big bow.

In the next photo we thought they were sisters, but it could be a mother and daughter. I noticed in many family photos the similarities are striking between all members of the family, especially noticeable in the larger families.   

"Families are like branches of a tree.  We go in different directions, yet our roots remain as one."

~Author Unknown~

THIS IS MURIEL

Hubby came across her  recently in one of his genealogical searches online.  The photo was taken in 1918 and she is a distant cousin of mine.  The information on the photo says that she is 3 years and 11 months old.  We can't find any more details but I hope she had a happy life.

COMPANY'S COMING

I may be a bit scarce for a while.  Today we have company coming all the way from New Zealand.  Bill is a distant relative of mine. Ten generations ago we shared a grandfather on my mother's side.  

As far as we can tell these are our Norman relatives who went to Great Britain after 1066.  We also identified Turleys in Fairfax County where we live now, and Gregg's research indicate that these are Irish Turleys who came to America in the 1700s.  Apparently we are all over the place as there are also relatives who emigrated to New Zealand and Australia.  I have been greatly interested in Gregg's research.  We have great conversations when he discovers anything new, and now I expect we will have some wonderful conversations with Bill.

There are approximately 10,000 Turleys living in America, 2,000 in Great Britain, 250 in Northern Ireland, and less than a hundred in Ireland.   There is also a village in Wiltshire called Turley.  The name originally was Torlai, which was the French spelling before the Norman Conquest. 

One of Gregg's most fun hobbies is, as you might have guessed by now, genaeology.   He and Bill started a correspondence a couple of years back on Ancestry.Com, as Bill has been researching his family for a lot longer than Gregg has, and has given Gregg some wonderful info on my family.  When he found that Bill was coming over here, he invited him to stay.  He will be visiting for 11 days, having already been in America for two weeks visiting other Turleys. When he leaves this area, he will be flying down to Florida.  

We are very much looking forward to meeting him and I will tell you more as time goes on.

Thank you all for visiting me and for also leaving comments which I always enjoy reading.  Please forgive me if I am late getting back to you.  Also your comment may appear a little later than usual as I always moderate before publishing.

These flowers are from our last visit to Meadowlark Gardens at the end of May.

A BIT OF GENEALOGY TODAY

When Gregg retired a few years ago, he had more time to get into our genealogy, not only his own but mine too.  We had a dear old friend who had been doing this for years, and he had encouraged us when we expressed our interest. There were already family members on Gregg's side who had done extensive research but none on mine.  Finding those long, unknown people who were related to me, has been a wonderful journey thanks to Gregg's diligence and enthusiasm.  He has enjoyed discovering them as much as I have.

These are the Perry sisters.  We only have information about one, Mary Elizabeth Perry who went by the name Polly, and I am not sure which one she.  She is my Great-Grandfather's first cousin's wife!  She was born in Enville, Staffordshire, England in 1891 and lived until 1970.  Like a light bulb that went off in the back of my mind, I remembered my father talking about Aunty Polly, but I am not sure if he was talking about an Aunty Polly on his side of the family or mother's side.  Polly's father was Francis and her mother was Eliza Louisa Preece.  There was also a brother named Arthur.  At least one of her parents lived in Sallop, Shropshire

She married George Archer Turley in Wolverhampton, in September 1916.  George was born in 1886.  We don't know what year he passed away.  I am curious about this photo with the trophies, a master gardener perhaps?  

He probably could tell you that England suffered from an oppressive heat that ravaged the whole country, from July through to September 1911, and that Edward VII was crowned in 1902.

In October 1903 the Women's Social and Political Union was formed to campaign for women's suffrage.  It was founded by six women, two of whom, Emmeline and Christabel Pankhurst, soon became the most prominent.

There is a great timeline on British history at this link.

An added thought, if you want to connect with your grandparents, ask them "What was it like when you were a little boy Granddad?"  And remember what they say. I never knew my Mum's Dad as he passed away long before I was born. My Grandad, my Dad's father (or Nandad as we used to call him) was a rather scary fellow to me as a little girl, very Victorian in his way of thinking - children should be seen and not heard. But if only I had asked the right questions, I could maybe have connected, as I surely know the right questions now.  When we are young we think we have all the time in the world for such things, and might not even have the interest as we do when we get older.  Truth be told the clock is ticking and one day you will wish you had asked those questions.