Pottery for pot lucks

My Sepia Saturday post this week is based on the suggestion of pots.  Well, being a potter, I needed to pull out a casserole or something along those lines. (Go to Sepia Saturday to see more HERE)

Here you see another table that is long and holds a variety of serving dishes, but not a bite to eat.  This was one of the 2010 sales of student's pottery at Black Mountain Center for the Arts.

And here's another one...

This is all student work.  Unfortunately not many people came up the hill to buy our wares...though the prices were certainly reasonable.  We stopped trying to sell pottery in our parking lot after these depressing sales (or lack thereof.)

But here are some of my casseroles, which I never sold, but gave as presents to relatives!   I don't even know if they've ever baked in them.

A simple squash souffle dish, which I did sell.

Another casserole which sold.

And here we are, another table covered with pottery, at the weekly Tailgate Market in Black Mountain, all summer long (actually 26 weeks)  So I still think food needs to be in hand crafted pottery, whether for serving it or just eating my own meals.  Once a month I take a pottery container of something edible to a pot luck at church.

And the student potters at BMCA will be selling their beautiful wares for Holly Jolly the first Fri evening in Dec...this is a great sale!

Not to be trite (so I won't say, a day late...) but yesterday was the anniversary of something we've mostly come to take for granted.

The 45th anniversary of the invention of the internet.

I don't know what my life was actually like before www.

TV and cable (but I think I used rabbit ears on my set).  Radio.  Phones that were beginning to be cordless.  And even portable phones, which were pretty big...and all you could do was talk on them.  I also had a new invention called a (what were they called, they beeped...ah) beeper.

Before those days, pay phones were available in urban areas.

Before the internet I had to write letters (or cards) and wait a week at least to hear from my friends...unless I paid long distance rates to talk to them.

Also yesterday was Cat Day.  That should be on your calendars next year.

No more trite phrases

How long do you think I can write blogs without including trite phrases?  It will be a good challenge...to use English as a more expressive language.

Does this mean that I have nothing better to say than to look at my grammar?  Perhaps.

II give you a wonderful piece of sculpture that inspires me, as well as resonates with my own mental questions.

M.J. Rose

And a fascinating piece of art : "Alice Through the Looking Glass" located in Guildford’s Castle Grounds (Surrey, UK.) in a walled garden behind the bowling green, close to the house where Lewis Carroll used to live.

When I went through a wonderful re-birthing ritual in the 1990s, I took on a new name.  Alice.  Haven't really used it, as it's kind of a spirit-name.  So it goes well with my intention to speak with more awareness and honesty.  I didn't include succinctness however.

The early voting is now happening

I VOTED TODAY!

It was easy peasy.
 
Thanks to Katharine (yes spelled that way, and yes her family hails from Tennessee)...who gave me a copy of a sample ballot which looked at non-partisan judge candidates, school board, and so on...listing who had leanings in directions which we share.

Our district of North Carolina has been recently gerrymandered by the NC Republican legislators, with the aim of keeping the Democrats in the Asheville area well under their thumbs.  


We shall see next Wed the results.  I'm quite pleased how many women are voting.

Last Monday in October

What's really permanent?  The patterns in this rock are offset by the footsteps of visitors...but we all know the time and forces it took to make these patterns had nothing to do with people.

Change is the message of October.  Ancestors are honored at the end of this month, with Halloween and Samhain, and All Souls Day, and Dia de los Muertos.  Whatever you name the celebration, it's about the impermanence of people on this wonderful but frail earth.

Remembering an ancestor during meditation is part of my daily ritual.  I thank these ordinary people who somehow created their lives and left a legacy which is humming to my attentions.  The least thing they did was have sex, and have a baby which then grew up to do the same.  But the DNA, or genes as everyone calls it, being passed down to my own generation was not the height of their lives probably.  Their passions began as children, being raised by parents and others, then blossomed as they became adults.  They not only survived, they thrived in whatever aspect of life that they approached.  It might have been hard at times, but I know there was laughter also.

Salute and thanks go to these fore-mothers and fore-fathers.

I hope something I've done in my life (or perhaps am still to do) will be a gift to my descendents.  I wonder what, if anything, will have most meaning for them. 

And beyond all the talk about generations, there's the Great Beyond...that belief in something greater than all of us.  Divine.  Spirit.  God.  Goddess.  Idea.  Universe.  The Great Unknown.

But even that is not permanent.

Working it out

Keep on Truckin'

Whatever trite or wise saying works for you (or me) it's like a mantra.  You have it in the back of your head for the quiet moments.

I spent yesterday morning at the Tailgate Market.  I wanted to have fun, sell pots, and enjoy the day.  Sometimes we reach a few of our goals!

I'm so lucky to be part of the co-op of Mudbuddies which sells pottery every Sat. morning throughout the summer, right here in Black Mountain.  It's right down the street from me.

Ah, you noticed.  I can find something to be grateful for...which is the best way to pull myself out of the mire of "poor me-ness." 

The wonderful weather, great music, and friends all around.  What a day.

And so it goes.  Each day.

At the end of my rope

I've seen it, grasped it firmly, but then let it slip through my fingers.  The end of my rope, the place where I just can't take it any more.  (Unknown, ambiguous "IT".)

But the IT I've been dealing with is just my health issues.  I don't think all older people spend half this amount of time concerning health.  I certainly don't like doing it myself.  So I ask your forgiveness for my continuing drama, and if you don't wish to hear my whining, just skip reading all the following.

When the side effects from the latest round of non-specific treatments hit, I folded.  Antibiotics are often a good idea, and often not at all a good idea...especially since I get a yeast infection from hell when I take them.  Having cat scans of lungs, once was fine.  Having probes stuck up my nose (after it had been thankfully numbed)...all ok.

But when a possible torn rotator cuff starts to wake me up by pains in my whole rib cage, there's something else happening.  My doctors couldn't figure it out when it came up several years ago...and finally treated me for "shingles pain without a rash."  So now I'm taking football size pills for that.

If I didn't have relief....  if a course of antibiotics gave me a recurrance of shingles, and the awful yeast infection...yep, I'd sure be at the end of my rope.

Did I mention the cough from hell hasn't improved?  The snot (excuse me, mucous) sample was sent from my nose off to the lab and showed no infection, so the antibiotics weren't treating anything.

I love ranting here, because it's almost anonymous.  But then sometimes someone says something that's very helpful...so I listen to comments.  

Pain medications are all "over the counter" and I'm grateful for some relief.  Hot showers help too. And I can have days without the cough also.  Today seems good.  When I get tired, or whenever I lie down in the evening because I'm tired...the cough comes back.  Apparently a cough isn't a condition.  It's the result of another condition.  And over-the-counter drugs are all I get...there aren't any prescriptions that are hiding behind the costly specialists.

So relief is either through assuming it's allergy related (generic Clariten-D) or treating the symptom of thickened mucous with Musinex.  And nasal sprays.  And continue using inhalers for the Asthma and the COPD.  The cat-scan confirmed some enlargement of bronchial tubes.   

So I've got my rope in hand again.

Going to go make some soup.
I told one doctor I use herbal teas to good effect.  He smiled with that "that's nice, dear," look.  They do give relief.  All the over-the-counter drugs do too.  But nothing seems to cure what I have.

More uniforms

I'll continue sharing old yearbook pictures of young people in uniforms.

Ft. Worth Texas, 1931  My dad's best friend (Earl Truelove) is in the Central High School band.
He's listed at the top of members as the Major.  (See my post about him HERE last week on Sepia Saturday.)  Since then I've heard from my cousin about her family members who were in bands that being the major means he didn't play an instrument.

My father's older brother, Chauncey, was in an ROTC uniform also, right column in photo below, 3rd from bottom.

Sepia Saturday shows some uniformed gentlemen of the law.

 I have a son who works security for parade floats in Tampa every year...but doesn't get a uniform at all like these. Come over HERE to see what others post based upon this picture!  And continue with my looking for relatives in old yearbooks here!



By 1933 my father had met my mother probably, in Jefferson High School in San Antonio, TX.  She signed her name (Mataley Munhall) by her picture below, the right column at the bottom of portraits.  Is she in Company C's group picture?  Yes, front and center (well, to the right of the tall young man in the very center.)

I don't think my father (George Rogers) was in Company C until 1934.  Then he was listed among the members, but I can't find him in the crowd (photo below).  But where is my mother in 1934?

 

Mataley went to the newly formed Company D in 1934...and she was then listed as a sponsor.  I think George missed his chance, (that time) since she changed her marching company.  Incidentally, like many yearbooks, the group picture below does not have my mother located in the place that is indicated by her name.  She is actually the girl in the middle of the front row, with her eyes closed.  I know you were wondering about that!

I mentioned before  how these young people wore a swastika on their hats...(HERE).
I think it was innocent, but when I remember Hitler's youth troops, it is even possible that his influence came into south Texas through the German connection.  These high school students certainly appeared to have enjoyed wearing uniforms.

Yes the club was made of young women who met "as a social aid to the Battalion"...and were called the Swastika Club.  It is possible some members of this social club are still alive and could answer my questions, but highly unlikely...and I don't think I'll try to find them.  So this is a mystery.  Except I'm sure the young women stopped using that insignia about 1940.

The highschool band also had great looking uniforms in San Antonio.

"Reverence for Life"

An interesting quote came my way this morning.
I don't claim to know a thing about Albert Schweitzer. (I did include some info from Wikipedia below the quote.)

But I liked reading these words of his. Editing was done by my friend.

"I am life which wills to live, in the midst of life which wills to live.

As in my own will to live, there is a longing for a wider life and

pleasure, with dread of annihilation and pain: so is it also in the will to live all around me, whether it can express itself before me or remains dumb.  The will to live is everywhere present, even as in me..........

Ethics consist in my experiencing the  compulsion to show to all wills to live the same reverence as I do my own.  A person is truly ethical when obeying the compulsion to help all life which one is able to assist, and shrinks from injuring anything that lives............ 

(But it is true that in practice, not all life can be saved)  We are forced to choose....which forms of life, and even which individuals, we shall save and which we shall destroy.

But the principle of reverence for life is nonetheless universal....

(It) compels one to decide for oneself in each case how far one can remain ethical and how far one must submit to the necessity for destruction and injury to life.  No one can decide (for anyone else) at what point, on each occasion, lies the extreme limit of possibility for persistence in the preservation and furtherance of life.  (Each person) has to judge this issue , by letting oneself be guided by a feeling of the highest possible responsibility toward other life.  We must never let ourselves become blunted.  We are living in truth when we experience these conflicts more profoundly."

Albert Schweitzer,  (14 January 1875 – 4 September 1965) was a German—and later French—theologian, organist, philosopher, physician, and medical missionary in Africa, also known for his interpretive life of Jesus. He was born in the province of Alsace-Lorraine, at that time part of the German Empire, considered himself French and wrote mostly in French.

He received the 1952 Nobel Peace Prize for his philosophy of "Reverence for Life",^[1] expressed in many ways, but most famously in founding and sustaining the Albert Schweitzer Hospital in Lambaréné, now in Gabon, west central Africa (then French Equatorial Africa). As a music scholar and organist, he studied the music of German composer Johann Sebastian Bach.

The girls who liked to march

Mataley Munhall in group photo, last row, second from left, in front of flag - she's signed her name across a white stripe of flag.

Mataley Munhall front row, fourth from left.

Another interesting note from looking at these yearbooks, is that this was the first class at Thomas Jefferson, in 1933.  The school had opened it's doors in the fall of 1932, and apparently took over from an older Main School in San Antonio.  My mother graduated in 1934, so she had actually started high school in the older building.

In 1933's yearbook there were 3 companies of ROTC with girl "sponsors".  By 1934 there were 4 companies.  This apparently was a very popular thing for young people to do, marching up and down and wearing uniforms.  Little did they know what would be happening in less than 10 years.

More of Mom in her yearbook

This is a copy of the actual page in the Jefferson High School 1934 yearbook.
Mataley Munhall (bottom row middle) signed her name to a "keen girl" (whoever this book belonged to.)  But the yearbook staff spelled her first name wrong.  Mataley is a strange name which my grandmother dreamed before she gave birth.

Anyway, this is my mother's senior yearbook, and I also will share her pictures in Glee Club and the Swastika girls (sponsors in ROTC, who wore a hat with a swastika on it).

Remember in 1934, San Antonio, Texas may have limited news about Hitler, let alone the infamous Nazis. There were German newspapers available for the immigrants. Actually a lot of people in that area of Texas were immigrants (or children of them) from Germany.  My mother's grandfather had come to Texas from Mecklinberg, Schwerin, Germany in 1870 (age 2).

And the uniform was popular for young students, who apparently drilled together.  (Another picture of mother in uniform was posted here.)



 

One thing at a time

It's a busy time of year here.  Various pottery sales, and remember I'm just a hobbiest potter, so I don't do the big shows that professionals do.  And getting ready for holidays, as well as change of seasons!

I just spent most of yesterday bringing the plants inside, because it was a beautiful day to be outside.  I've finally gotten ahead of the game, not waiting till a frost is forecast before I do this job. 

So YAY Barb, I say to myself.

Muffin is pretty happy with the lavender plant as long as there is room on the sewing machine for her as well.

This year they will catch the morning sun...which made it a bit difficult to take a picture with that backlighting.  I've also covered the bare dirt with a plastic mulch, in hopes of keeping kitties from thinking these are nice little round kitty pans.  It's worked for me for years.

Panther was more interested in her fish TV show.  She loves to watch them eat, and hopes I'll spill some of their food for her own treat.

But it looks like she's also interested in the view outside.

The Gourami in the large tank just want breakfast, while the glass reflects the rest of the room.

Company A

In Ft. Worth, Texas, back in 1931, my Uncle Chauncey Rogers was a Captain (listed in left column) and my father George E. Rogers was a Corporal (also left column), in Company A.

With the honorary female Captain, Peggy Leland in the front row, I'm pretty sure that's Uncle Chauncey sitting next to her.  But where oh where, is my father?  If the rest of the company is lined up in rank, then where would Corporals appear?  I thought further back, but I'm now considering it's likely he's directly behind his older brother...that chin and ears look like him perhaps.

There are other mentions, and pictures of Uncle Chauncey, but this is the only page with my father appearing in that yearbook. Central High School, Ft. Worth, Texas. 1931

Wallowing in photos

Yep, I just found a treasure trove of photos of my family in high school yearbooks.
For some reason there's not a clear pic of my father, who was in the same high school, but he's mentioned on a page with one of his brothers.
And another brother, James, has a zillion pictures in the yearbook several years later.

But my header is now one of the photos of my mother, when she was in the glee club.  Which I sure never knew about.

I'll add more later of all of these photos of the young relations that I only knew as an older generation!

A Sepia Saturday quandry

Sometimes Sepia Saturday really has me stumped. 



Like this week's roadside shoe repair man, with hand tinted colors.   Well, I'm just going to pull something out of my hat.

But don't miss seeing what others have come up with on this theme....HERE.  And congratulations for this group having posted 250 different weeks!  That's great!

Here's a house...which had memories for my parents.
The Trueloves lived there...isn't that a great start?

What does the caption at the top say?  Either Truelove's resting place, or Truelove's nesting place. What do you think?

 

This was from my father's album, from before he married my mother.  His friend Earl probably didn't spell his name the way it is printed it under his picture.  But I find it intriguing that there's a little arrow and note on the bottom of the actual photo "my room."  So at some point my father apparently lived on his own with his friend in Ft. Worth, Texas.  

Since Earl was about the same age as my father, I dare say there were senior Trueloves in the house at that time, but later in the 1940s we visited that house and Earl was by then married.

The Rogers family moved to San Antonio, TX between 1930 and 1935 according to census records... my father actually graduated from high school in San Antonio, which is where (high school) he met my mother.  He graduated when he was 18 or 19 I think, and it was the year after my mother did, though he was older than she was by several years.  I found some old high school papers once, and asked his younger brother after my parents had already died, if he knew anything about how that happened, but his younger brother didn't remember.  

So in my imagination, a teenage George moved in with his friend Earl, perhaps when his own family had a house fire and moved into the garage while rebuilding their house.  And maybe the Rogers moved as a family to San Antonio around 1933-4 and my father returned to school...and met the love of his life.  I do know that my mother was claimed by my father's mother before my father finally figured out she was "the one," and married in 1937.  My grandmother invited my mother to do lots of things with her family of boys, and there are a lot of photos that show that.

"US" (Before Cupid) Scenic Loop 7.7.35

Above are a photo of my mom (very small) above one of my father in an ROTC uniform which would probably have placed him still in high school in 1935.  Though this is my father's album, it looks more like my mother's writing here!

Earl Truelove, front row, second from end on right

Ancestry had a link to Earl Truelove being in high school (year books 1931 and 1933), and has a picture of him in the band as the "Major," in Ft. Worth in 1933.  He was about 16 at the time, and I guess he would have graduated the following year, but don't know for sure.

I know I've been to the Truelove house in Ft. Worth as a very young child.

I remember being given a place to take a nap, which was much too interesting to fall asleep.  And since I don't remember my sister being there at the time, I think it was before she was born in 1946.  I've seen pictures of Earl and his wife, but can't find any today.  I don't know if they visited us after we moved to Houston in 1947. or if we visited more than once or twice.  But somehow I got the idea that my mother was really flirting with Earl.  Isn't that a strange thing for a 3-4 year old to remember?  (Earl was really handsome by the time he was married!)

New relations

Chasing along that old family tree the other day, I found a connection to a Major John Tate, father of Cassandra Tate Williams (b. 1765 in North Carolina, Death 1851, Bradley TN)

Daily garment for woman in 1770

Major Tate had a story about  his will, which didn't have a great source given.
However, by looking further, checking out various people in Find-A-Grave who had links to their cemetery sites, and then some RootsWeb info, there were more sources given.
Finally the data was quoted.  Ah, I'm a happy genealogical researcher when that happens.

So I dumped the original story from my ancestor's page and added the ones that gave good references.

Cassandra Elizabeth "Cassiah" Tate

Cassiah Tate's husband,  Frederick Andrew Williams, 1764-1831, is a direct ancestor of my mother's father's mother's family.  And since my mother's father died very young, I've never known anything about that lineage.

The next problem to solve is whether or not Cassiah was really his child, and part of that problem includes the two birthdays for him saying "ABT 1739 in Virginia" and "1735 in North Carolina."

I have a lot of Ancestry.Com records in which he is listed as being born within a year of 1735  in North Carolina but without any sources.  So how about the other man of the same approximate age, being born in VA?

He was either born in one state or the other, I think.

And several accounts use his will as a reference,..
The source says:

SOURCE: "Caswell Co., NC Deed Books 181701840 by Katharine Kerr Kendall. Deed Book S pgs 23-24

"On 19 Dec 1776, John and his wife, Sarah, sold 219 acres adj. Widow Yancy, William Pettit and Samuel Waddy to Richard Swift of Louisa Co., VA.

John died intestate prior to 10 Mar 1785 and his brother, Zephaniah Tate, was admr. and guardian of his six children."

So he died prior to Mar 10, 1785.

The source of his title Major states:

According to the Colonial Records of North Carolina, Vol. X, 1775-1776, page 204,

"Saturday 9, 1775, the Congress met to select Field Officers of the Minute Men and the Field Officers of the Militia; John Tate was selected as second major for Guilford County Militia, serving under Colonel Ransom Sutherland.

There are two pay vouchers for John Tate, located in the State Archives in Raleigh, for his service in the Revolution. Further research in the State Comptrollers Papers show that John served as a private in the Revolution.

He was not only in Guilford County, NC militia on Saturday 9 (no month given) 1775, he also sold some land in VA in 1776.  I think a clerk may have written Saturday rather than September 9, for the date, but we won't know, unless we check a calendar for 1775.


But I've looked at several descendent's Root's Web sites, saying they have records of the Tait Family, and it basically gives me a headache.

I found a Kesiah Tait, connected to a father named Zachariahs, son of John Tait...but I'm not at all sure this is Cassandra Elizabeth, supposedly daughter of John Tate who served in Guilford Militia.

So I will continue to let these ancestors lie in peace.  And maybe someday it will make sense, whether or not which one was in which relationship to another.

When I was 72

Contrary to the name of this blog, I continued to count my birthdays.  I thought my 69th year was pretty momentous, thus started the blog.

But year after year continues to have lots of ups and downs.

I'm not doing a new blog each year, so I hope my blogland friends can just bare with me.  Or is that bear with me?

So here I yam a couple of months into another year if I count them on my birthdays.  I still live independently, and have a wonderful group of real and virtual friends...you know which one you are.
I go through stages of journaling my life, like reading Tarot cards.  Sometimes it feels right, sometimes not.  I stay involved in my church though I may have different opinions at times.

I've returned to the Black Mountain Clay Studio most days, where I try to push myself to do something I  want to do (I almost said need)...to try new things, to share with friends there.  I have a studio at home where I can throw or glaze or hand built.  I've got a small group of other potters (Mud Buddies) who I share summer sales with on Saturdays, and that season is winding down.

I've started a new informal partnership with another potter for showing at a couple of venues other than the Saturday markets.  We both are motivated by financial needs.

And occasionally I take day trips with various friends.   This Sunday we're going to the Spruce-Pine Potters Market...one of the best in the area with potters from the mountains sharing their wares.  The show starts on Saturday...10-5, but I'll be going to Black Mountain's Tailgate market then.

And my health continues to be a concern...needing more attention than expected, in almost unexpected ways.  Drat.  And dang.  And dang-bat too!  It makes it hard to do other things besides blogging.  When I have the worst other symptoms, (usually, knock on wood) I can still type on the computer. 

I am so glad to sometimes have comments in exchange (usually with folks from Sepia Saturday).  Anytime you want to comment on what I've posted, just click the "Comments" link at the bottom of the page, where either "no comments" or perhaps #__ comments is the tag.

Coaches, drivers, wagons etc.

 I'm going to look at the industries affected by wagons, coaches and horses.  Come over to see what others have come up with on this theme at Sepia Saturday HERE.

I posted a few weeks ago about the cars, Studebakers, in my life...a car that was actually originally built by former-wagon makers, the family of Studebakers, who immigrated to the US from the Netherlands.

Here's that post, in case you wanted to see how this family was able to adapt their skills to the new motorized transportation of the twentieth century.  I find it interesting that these Dutch men started with wagons, then electric cars, then gasoline cars.

My mind goes to other trades that changed as civilization moved away from horse drawn chariots, carriages and wagons.

 How about care for the many horses that had been the main means of transport?  That meant private and town stables, which provided bedding and food for the horses.  How about the many farriers, who provided those many horse-shoes? 

from Wikipedia

And the wheelwrights for those many wood wheels?  And maybe there weren't specific large animal vets, but I dare say those who knew about horses were well paid for their care.

Yes there are a few of each of these industries still in existence, either for leisure riders or those who race horses, or provide other recreation or competitions.

And yet the one trade that definitely took a hit as automobiles took over transportation is that of buggy whip making.

Wikepedia says:

A buggy whip is a horsewhip with a long stiff shaft and a relatively short lash used for driving a horse harnessed to a buggy or other small open carriage. A coachwhip, usually provided with a long lash, is used in driving a coach with horses in front of other horses. Though similar whips are still manufactured for limited purposes, the buggy whip industry as a major economic entity ceased to exist with the introduction of the automobile, and is cited in economics and marketing as an example of an industry ceasing to exist because its market niche, and the need for its product, disappears.

I also considered the wagons, which are famously attributed to American's moving their entire families west.  Check out this post here.

See you next week, fellow Sepians!

Ancestor birthday, Zachariah Booth Jr, 1721

Happy birthday to a "great times 7" grandfather.

Birth 8 Oct 1721 in Stratford, Fairfield County, CT, USA
Death 17 Sep 1775 in Huntington, Fairfield, Connecticut
Buried in Monroe, Fairfield, CT, in Cutler's Farm and Elm Street Cemetery.

father of Isaac Booth Sr., who was father of Isaac Booth, Jr, father of William Lewis Booth, father of
Richard R. Booth, father of Eugenia Almeta Whitty Booth, mother of Eugenia Almeta Booth Miller, my great grandmother on my mother's side.

I've enjoyed immensely looking at the "Find-A-Grave" sites, which usually include information about other family members, and where they are buried, often not in the same cemetery.

But as usual I'm working with Ancestry to correct silly errors.
Last year I noticed that Zachariah was supposedly involved in a town called Fairfield, Stratford County, CT.
That wasn't correct.  There's a county of Fairfield, no county of Stratford.  There's a town of Fairfield, as well as the county.  So this was a transposing of the town of Stratford, in Fairfield County, CT.

Then the actual cemetery is now in a town called Monroe, and is near the historic site in Shelton (a town name now) called Huntington Center Historic District.  All of which are in Fairfield County, CT.

I enjoyed this evening's pursuit of knowledge...and found an enticing document that talked of a Joseph Booth, who purchased land in NY in 1793 for his son, Orange.  The document wasn't even attached to a Joseph Booth who was alive in 1793, but to an ancestor of Zachariah many generations before.

I don't know which Joseph Booth was the parent of Orange, but I did give the document to this new uncle Orange Booth, though I don't have his father correctly identified yet.  I am pretty sure my ancestor Isaac Booth, Sr. also went to NY about the same time.  So when I look for more information, I may find they were cousins...or perhaps not.

Weather is changing

An early change of color, probably a maple, which lost a lot of it's beauty as the rain came down last Friday, That rain brought us cooler weather, wind and sunshine on Saturday.,.but that night many folks in the mountains had the first frost.

I was unprepared, so am grateful that my little potted flowers all made it through.  I now have to set up an indoor place for a dozen small and 5 large plants.  Each year I chose a different spot.  If they are in the warm living room, they tend to bloom all winter, or early in the spring...that's where the 2 tropical fish tanks are which are kept close to 70 degrees by their own heaters.

But I think the studio is more likely to get the plants, leaning up against a wall right inside the doorway.  That's the plan as of today.  Just need to construct some shelving out of milk crates and boards...so that's the job when I get to it...fortunately warm weather has returned for this week.

Taking a detour

I decided to use the resources of Ancestry DOT com to see what might now be available on some other relations' trees.

I spent an enjoyable couple of hours learning about some folks in the mountains of Western Virginia, the Shenandoah Valley area, and there were lots of grave markers, and grave signs, and their lives all delineated with all kinds of children.

But they weren't the correct relations.  In 1910 a census report gave a man named Harry as a child of either J.F. and Josie, or H.J. and Sarah...and if he was the son of H.J. he would have been named Ellon H., not Harry D.  They were born within a year of each other.  And on a census report, a child who has already had their birthday will appear as 9 years old, whereas one who was born later in the year will still be counted as 8 years old.  Fortunately there were two listings in the 1910 census and one looks like the correct one for my relatives.

I'm not giving their last names, because there are probably a lot of people in that area who still have that name.

They lived in different communities, close, but not the same.  And they probably have a common ancestor.

But all those pretty markers belonged to a family which wasn't related to my own relatives.

Oh well.  I've not removed all the family, just the problem folks who were being shoved into my family inadvertently.  How did I find out?  Well, there was a Census taken which showed Harry living in another state at the same time that Ellon H. was still living in Virginia...and I knew the link came through the other state.

So I took a detour into someone else's family tree.  It was kind of fun, though of course a waste of time if I were on the clock.  But being interested in genealogy, I've found time is measured entirely differently than it is in industry.

The split of sibling ages

Hi all my friends at Sepia Saturday!

This week I look at the little guy, who in my family, was the youngest son.

Tai (above) is 12 years younger than his next older brother, (Russ below pic) and 15 years younger than the eldest.

Lots of times this can happen in families.  My father had a younger brother - 8 years younger than himself, and my father had been the "baby of the family" for all those years.

Then that younger brother also had 2 sets of siblings, with a gap of 13 years between them.

And so I show you a continuation of my camping fun with my youngest son.  Sometimes we were joined by his middle brother if he could take a vacation.

While he was in middle school, his sibling was graduating college.  And his older brother married a few years after that.

Laurel Falls, Great Smoky Mountains, from below and above.

Come on over to Sepia Saturday to see what other folks have shared (HERE)