Weddle
Hearing Voices
Armed with only Grandpa’s name and the names of his parents and siblings, I went searching for my family ancestors. Several hours later, I found him, Harold McDowell, in the 1920 census. He was thirteen and lived with his parents and five siblings in Iowa.
Since that day, ancestors from more branches than you can imagine have been begging me to tell their stories. I love listening to them as I uncover their secrets.
I hope you, too, will enjoy hearing what they have to say…
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No More Elijah
Remember the post, where I waxed eloquent about poor Elijah—my 5th great-grandfather, who died just before arriving in America from Germany? Well, turns out that was a lie. It was an accident, I promise. But, things like this happen when researching ancestry. One tries to be diligent. To check sources. Review information to see that…
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A Father’s Worry
A cool wind whistled at the cabin’s window. At least marching will be pleasant, Benjamin thought, slinging his musket over his shoulder. “Come, Anna, girls; Onkel Martin is waiting for us.” Martin lived near Drapers Meadow; his wife Anna and the children would be safe there while he was gone. They would have to hurry,…
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One Trunk
Elijah opened his eyes to a sea of bodies, crammed shoulder to jowl at the foot of his berth: Papa, Hans and Elizabeth, the children, behind them others he didn’t recognize. His lovely Mary held his hand, ever the vigilant nurse, her great belly nudged against his arm. The fetid smell of urine and vomit mixed…