Wisteria

Have you ever gotten sidetracked while exploring the past? I have, on a number of occasions. I’ll start looking online and go down many rabbit trails. I’ll look at some records in my files searching for an answer to a question and get absorbed re-reading some forgotten details. I had been thinking recently of my old photograph collection. In fact, the other day I pulled out one of my very oldest photographs from where I have it kept in a fireproof safe to share with a young friend who has shown an interest in old things (Us memory-keepers always have to be on the lookout for ways to cultivate the next generation in order to keep those memories from fading). I was dismayed to find that despite my efforts to keep them safe, these old photos are showing evidence of time (that old enemy) and temperature fluctuations that may eventually damage them beyond repair.                 I originally sat down tonight to work on a blog post to document details of one of my ambrotypes that is sl

Kornelis Bolhuis of Winsum, Groningen, Netherlands When I first started gathering information on my great-grandmother Bolhuis’ family, I knew little of her father, but I do know that everyone has a past and every grandparent was once a little boy or little girl. My first mental image of Kornelis Bolhuis was that of grandfather. I have a photograph of this bearded man.  I knew that he died shortly before his 90 th birthday in the town of Stedum, also in the Groningen province. I knew that in his capacity as father, he encouraged his children to seek a new life in America. But I knew nothing of his childhood and the only one I knew who might have known anything was his daughter, my great-grandmother, who passed away when I was very young. I never heard any stories, his story was never told. But over the past several years, I have been able to gather some vital statistics that, when pieced together, help me create his story. And here it is: Kornelis was born on August 17,

According to his death certificate on file with the Concord town clerk, Herman J. Westfall was born 1 October 1877 in Waverly, New York.[1] He was raised in the town of Otto, once known as Waverly, in Cattaraugus County.[2] Herman’s father died just after his tenth birthday and his mother died before he turned eighteen. Herman was living in Perrysburg in September of 1895.[3] He may have been working there.  the young Herman Westfall, ca. 1894, Cattaraugus, NY In 1896 he was living with his married sister, Louise Heitman of Dunkirk, Chautauqua County, New York when it was reported in the Evening Observer newspaper that Herman, described as “lovelorn,” attempted suicide on 30 May 1896 by drinking carbolic acid but was expected to recover.[4] The name of the object of his affections that rejected him was not revealed in the newspaper article. The article explained that Herman “formerly met and loved a young, pretty, dark-haired German girl and when he left her at Cattaraugus,

Photograph courtesy Kristen Hall http://www.facebook.com/AThousandAndOneWords?fref=ts We’ve all heard genealogists talk about their biggest brick wall, that genealogical puzzle that has been the hardest to solve. Time itself can be a form of a brick wall, when the things to be done in the present get in the way of researching the past. I have taken a hiatus from my blog for the last couple of months due to some other pressing projects that I put on my plate. There are only so many hours in a day. My focus has been on some of my vocational goals. I sat for a licensure exam and got another initial to put behind my name. (Go me!) I am also finishing up a few online courses for another certificate. With those things falling into place, I feel like I can gear up and do a little pursuing in my avocation of family history. As a single parent, a lot rests on me and I don’t see myself quitting my day job anytime in the near future. Nonetheless, it has been over twenty years and the