Freddie

Freddie Newby passed away on Sunday, February 24th.

Freddy

Freddie could be found at the Huron Valley Eagles, Flat Rock Michigan on most Saturday nights; he introduced the bands and he handled the sound. He had done sound for festivals around Michigan in previous years. We last saw Freddie February 16, when he introduced Mike’s band at the Eagles. Freddy was a fan of all bluegrass music, and especially Rhonda Vincent. Freddie had had health problems for some time. This picture is from March 10, 2006.

Visitation Thursday 5:30 to 9, Friday 1 to 9 at the Molnar Funeral Home, Brownstown. Freddie’s funeral will be Saturday. The time will be posted on the funeral home site later. I understand Freddy’s children could use a little help with all of this, so bring a ten or twenty when you come. Thanks.

The Flu

OK, so I got it.  Sunday I thought it was the long day at Fort Wayne that tired me out.  Yesterday I knew.  I’m not sick to my stomach, and my digestion is fine.  But I feel like I got hit by a truck, and I can’t wake up.  I slept most of yesterday, all last night, and just got up.  That is unusual, I always get up early.  I never heard Papa leave. 

Maybe tomorrow I’ll be over this.

So Here I Am

I am at the genealogy section of the Allen County Public Library, Fort Wayne Indiana. Helen is not here. Well, she probably is, but I didn’t find her. I also didn’t find a couple of other people I’m looking for. John Fenton and Martin Herrington. I went through about 15 microfilms, looking for even a little bit on any of them and found very little. I guess I won’t have to look in those places again. John is one of Papa’s maternal 2nd-grandfather, and Martin is one of mine. So, I do equal opportunity brick wall kicking. I’ll tell you more about them sometime. I have a lot of “stuff” on each of them, but their origins are undocumented consist of guesstimates at this time. Maybe I’ll find out something this year about each of them. I’d settle for a tidbit each.

That’s what a day at a microfilm machine will do for you, make you ready to settle. And now I get a bus ride home. Better than driving for sure. I guess this was a good Saturday, even without breakthroughs.

Is This Oz?

GS1 and the New Car

He was here for a couple of days and now he’s gone again.  His Mom is in the background, she and I both have a kind of empty feeling this afternoon.  That is the car he bought on Friday.  Kind of looks like a young guy’s car, doesn’t it?  He had a TV he wanted to take with him, in a kind of big box.  You should have seen us trying to get it into the back seat.  But, it fit fine in the trunk we we finally gave up on the seat.  He has a 10 hour drive to his new temporary home, where he will learn to network some kind of Navy equipment that goes on some kind of boat.   Or something. 

So, now you know why I think this is like Oz, people come and go so quickly around here.

Where is Helen?

Will ever find out where my maternal grandmother went, and why? Helen Lois Palmer was born in Hoosick Falls, NY on 28 August 1891. She was baptized 7 August 1892 at the Methodist church in Hoosick Falls. Helen was counted on the 1900 census with her family, including parents Orlando W. Palmer and Libbie Winn, in Hoosick Falls. She graduated from Hoosick Falls High School 21 June 1907, a year later than her twin sister, Hazel.

Helen has been delicately described to me as a kind of a black sheep, she apparently didn’t fall in line, and didn’t exactly do what her parents expected. In any event, she attended the Troy (NY) Business college, and became a bookkeeper or office worker. On the back of a grade report containing her name, which was tucked into the Orlando Palmer family bible, is a note which says: on Monday March 17, 1919 a son was born to Helen L Palmer Hill, weighting 6 pounds. Edwin Palmer, my mother’s cousin, who owns the bible, said he though it was Orlando’s handwriting. Helen had married George Gardner Hill on 3 July 1918 in Hoosick Falls.

In 1920, Helen and her son, George G. Hill, were counted in the household of her father, back in Hoosick Falls. She apparently divorced Hill within the next several years. That son, know to his family, and the world as Donald William Hill, served in the US Marine Corps between 1939 and 1941, married, and passed away on 4 April 1985 in Lake Elsinore, Riverside County, California leaving 2 daughters. I haven’t been able to find or contact them, and his wife is also deceased. Donald’s obituary is missing from the file at the funeral home, but his death record states his mother was Helen Herrington. That makes sense as the name his wife, who was the informant on the certificate, might have known his mother by.

Helen married David H. Herrington sometime before my mother was born in 1926. In 1929, Herrington, Mrs. Helen L is listed as a resident on Spring Street in the Hoosick Falls directory. In 1930, the family is listed on the census in Bennington, Bennington County Vermont:

Line 48-51, 204 River Street, dwelling 225, family 261
Harrington, David H., head, renting for $12, no radio, male, white, 38, married, first married at age 21, not in school, can read and write, born New York, father born New Jersey, mother born New York, speaks English, houseman hotel, wages, is actually employed, not a veteran.

Helen L., wife, female, white, 38, married, first married at age 26, not in school, can read and write, born New York, father born Vermont, mother born New York, speaks English, no occupation.

Marjorie H., daughter, female, white, 3, single, not in school, born New York, both parents born New York, no occupation.

Hill, Donald, step-son, male, white, 11, single, attending school, can read and write, born New York, both parents born New York, speaks English, no occupation.

On 13 March 1931, Herrington died, apparently of a massive stroke. He was 39 years old. His death certificate states the cause as Cerebral hemorrhage. He was the son of Martin L. Herrington and Catherine/Katherine/Kate Knapp, both born in NY. I have quite a bit of documented information on the Herrington family, but Martin L. is a brick wall, just like his daughter-in-law, Helen.

But Helen, darn her. She farmed my mother out to foster care, some kind of unofficial placement I really haven’t found out much about. Mom mentioned many homes, none permanent, and the one home she left in her teens, striking out on her own. A cousin thinks Helen remained in Bennington, at least for a while. She also remembers a letter, written by Donald to her father, when Helen died. But the letter went unanswered, cannot be found, and no one knows for sure when or where Helen lived and died after 1931.

There are exactly 17 women named Helen, who were born on 28 August 1891, listed in the Social Security Death Index. Of the 17, only 2 seem to have a connection with New York or Vermont. One of those, Helen Potwine, applied for her SS card in Vermont. She was the wife of a soldier named Roy Potwine and is buried with him in a military cemetery on Long Island, NY – her last residence was Essex, NJ. I’m looking for her obituary, or her husband’s, or both right now. Lacking that, I will send for her Social Security Card application to try to confirm her identy. Perhaps I can put the long mystery of Helen’s life in some kind of framework.

The sad part, the breakthrough about Helen comes after my Mom’s death last year. Mom was haunted her entire life by her abandonment at age four. Perhaps it would have given her some peace to have known even a little about her mother.

I LIKE IT…..

What a weekend!  I did mention the camper show, didn’t I?  We went and I’m still thinking about some of what we saw.  It’s a dangerous place, because of course, we want  (or perhaps I want) a new one.  I’ve reached a stage in my life where I seem to know enough to look only at what is practical, not everything in sight.  So, we limited our shopping to 28 to 34 foot motor homes with 2 or more slides.  Shorter is OK for us, there are only two of us in it most of the time.  We’ve discovered that class C campers probably won’t work now that we have owned a class A for a while.  We need a desk, enough room for a weeks worth of clothing, a place to eat, sleep and wash ourselves.   Papa needs to be able to see the TV from his chair.  It would be nice if I could see it too.  We have to be able to store  a pretty big grill/stove for outside, a rug for under the awning, some lawn chairs and tables.  We will probably need to cook inside, too, after Papa retires.  The manufacturers have developed a nasty habit on including a convection oven instead of a regular oven in some models.  I want a regular one, thanks.  And by the way, “speed boost” and “twice as fast” and “half the time” and whatever else the code words are don’t fool me, I know a convection oven when I see one.

So, with that in mind, what a retired grandma and an almost retired Papa do not want in their next winter home on wheels:  Convention oven.  Two sofas.  Get real, sleep on the bed.  A booth dinette.  Got Chairs?   Make a table and chairs standard.  An Analog TV.  It doesn’t have to be HD, but quit trying to pedal the analog models in $80,000 campers.  And don’t mount the **** thing above the driver’s seat.  If the captain’s chairs in which you sit to drive (and ride) are comfortable and swivel around, WHY ON EARTH would you put the TV where you can’t see it from those chairs?  Two doors into the bathroom.  Forget the second door and add a towel rack, or even a hook for my bathrobe.  Why is the bathroom sink too small to wash your hands in?  There’s more, but I’ll stuff a sock in it.

On to Saturday night.  We had a dinner with friends and then descended upon the Huron Valley Eagles to see the Mike Adams Band.  OK, I’m prejudiced, so what are you going to do about it?  There was another group there with even more affinity for Mike’s band and their great performance.  One of the party, most of whom seemed to be Mike’s cousins, was pretty vocal about some selections played from the stage.  He would roar, “I like it, I like it a lot!!!,” from his seat after certain numbers.  Occasionally, someone in that vicinity would run in front of the stage and give a big thumbs up!

OK, so we stayed way too late, and we got in bed late, and we were tired in the morning.  D2, S-in-L and their three beautiful children arrived while we were out, and we asleep when we got home.  We crashed.  Morning came way too early.  The line at our one bathroom door was long.  There was an ice storm, then rain. We had a wonderful day, we LIKED IT A LOT.  Sorry to yell, but I do love having my family around.  D1 made a nice dinner in honor of GS1.  Papa grilled steaks.  Step-dad was here, but a couple of people were missing.  GS2 had already made his way up north for a mid-winter visit, and GS1’s fiance had other obligations, so we missed her. 

But, as if it was supposed to be, D3 couldn’t have driven to work when she should have, and then the person who rescued her by opening the store offered to work the entire day.  So, she was able to be here.  D3 will work next Sunday for him. 

GS1 brought cute T-shirts for his cousins, a cool hat for Papa, a book on the history of the US military base on Cuba for me, and other fun stuff.  His next stop is about six months here for some training.  Did I say we’re very proud of him?  Only 50 times?  One thing about GS1, he is taller.  He thinks he’s 6′ or 6’1″.  But he looked taller to me, so I measured.  He wouldn’t fit  under the arch in the spot I use to measure grandchildren, although he once did.  So I used the living room wall.  He is 6’3″, so he grew a little.  Papa grew while he was in Korea when he was nearer GS1’s age, too.

 The most fun Sunday was probably when we discovered that the lake at the edge of the drive was backing up into the garage.  Always up for a challenge, D2, D3, and Papa joined me on the drive.  We scrapped up a bunch of ice.  D3 was bailing the water onto the snowbank with the grain scoop.  Papa finally got on some firm footing and used the snow blower to make a big opening in the bank next to the lake on the low side of the drive.  A river formed, and most of the water ran off toward my garden spot, ready to cause problems later.  One thing about my family, they’re always up for a challenge.

So now it’s Monday, and it’s snowing.  You know everything I know right now, you’re up-to-date, and I LIKE IT.

Speak English?

A call center needs employees.  I was on the phone with someone for almost an hour today, and I’m still not sure they understood me.  They did keep saying they were sorry, and that was true, they are sorry.  I guess I can’t tell you what company, they might sue me.  I told Papa I needed a mixed drink.  He wondered what two things I might mix.  I guess sugar and water, or something like that.  Oh well.

 GS1 is home for a couple of days.  We are happy he is off guard duty and back in the States.  He will leave early next week for his next duty station.  It’s good to see him, he seems the same.

We’ll be at the camper show tonight.  Then, the Huron Valley Eagles to see Mike’s band tomorrow. 

In Memory

Frank and Noah

Frank Burns was a good old boy, one of the best of that kind.  He had his opinions, but he wouldn’t hurt a flea and he spread a lot of love.  GS3 was camping with us at Whispering Winds, known to some Michigan bluegrass fans as Wendy Smith’s place.  It was the July 4th festival, 2003.  Frank gave him a ride, and GS3 was happy, happy happy.  We gave Frank a copy of this photo years later, he squinted, looked again, and then said, oh ya, I remember.

We last saw Frank at Jimmy Kittle’s show, Pickin’ on Cystic Fibrosis,  in October.  We’ll miss Frank, things won’t be the same.

This is Worth 4:20

If I listen to this style of fiddling, I like it to be Johnny Gimble. But this is pretty darn good, don’t you think?

A Fine Weekend

We had a fine weekend, in spite of the miserable weather.  We went “up North” on Friday night, arriving at M-in-L’s home about 9:30.  She was waiting up, good thing it didn’t take any longer.  If you really care, this is one some people think about the geography around here. ( if you read that notice the summer destinations section, Cadillac, mentioned there, is our old home.) 

We noticed when we arrived in suburbia that most children think of up North as some static place.  For them it is a destination, that same cottage, or motel, or campground each year.  For us, it was and is, an amazing wilderness, thinly populated, and seasonally overrun with trash throwing, impatient driving, self-important, overbearing tourists. Those sometimes unpleasant people were and are the livelihood of much of the mitten’s “up North” population.

Since Granny and her family used to live “up North”, we are the myth that no one really talks about, we went the “wrong” way.  If I had a nickel for everyone “up North”, who wonders when we’ll be back, who miserable we are, how we can stand it down here, etc, I could retire and go where I want.  The thing is, everyone in southeastern lower Michigan isn’t as bad as the mythical tourist I describe above, and everyone in northern Michigan isn’t as nice as the people who ask how we can stand it here. 

The convenience of group living has some bearing on one’s ability to manage in a suburban environment.  We had an EIGHT party phone line, even in the mid 1970’s in rural Wexford County, Michigan.  Cable TV, natural gas, water and sewer systems were a dream then, and is still a dream in that neighborhood today.  Companies simply can’t make a profit serving spread out rural areas, and so they don’t serve them.  But it was quiet, and we could have chickens, and a big garden, and everyone knew what an outdoor dog was, and how to build a doghouse that would keep him warm and safe.  And they didn’t let their outdoor dogs bark ALL THE TIME like our neighbor here does.  Well, it is an indoor dog, but when outdoors, it barks at everything.

We also happen to realize that things change, even up North, and the influx of people to our old home has made it less what is was, and more like our current home in some ways.  We noticed years ago that the “southern” Michigan people wanted better and wider roads, more restaurants, big houses, city water, and so on.  All the things that made living in the “city” were conveniences that were missed on the trek to peace and quite.  When you pave the roads, put in (and pay for) more city services, bring (and drive) several cars, dump tons of fertilizer on the lawns, and other dangerous — or at least damaging behaviors; you change the place you ran to into the place you ran from.

So now, I’ll get off my soapbox and let you know about our great weekend.  We saw a great band play on Saturday night, comprised mostly of Northern Michigan people, and a one who migrated there, and one who lives in a city-like area not so far from here.  It was M-in-L’s birthday, and we enjoyed a dinner out before the show, a chocolate cake before and after, and a snowstorm (well, we didn’t like that part) Sunday morning.  We got out before the snow blew the roads closed, and hurried south to the relative warmth (8 degrees) of our “Southern” home!