Friday's Faces from the Past

After my Grandma Andrews died, I came across a few old photo albums in her house that I had never seen before, despite visiting her several times to talk about family history. Now I had no one to tell me who was who in the photos. Some I could guess at, but others' names have been lost forever. The only clue I had was the name of the photographer: Smead's Rooms in Bellefontaine, Ohio, but they are long gone, too. Maybe some day I'll make a connection and can once again give names to the nameless.

Some day I'll make it out to Bellefontaine, and I'll figure out who these people are!

There is one face in this particular photo album that has stuck with me ever since the day I learned his name years ago from my grandmother, and that is Cookston Ash. I first came across his face when my grandma pulled an old tintype of him out of a box. She said he was her great-grandfather, the father of her beloved grandmother, Lottie. She didn't know much about him, but she knew he was always sickly and died young. Here he is:

How many of you just hold an old photograph in your hands and stare at the face, begging for them to come to life and share their secrets? You wonder at how many hands that very photograph has passed through, and the thoughts of the person in the picture. How long did they have to sit still for the photo to be taken? Who was there with them? Don't ever let old pictures like the ones above pass into oblivion. The lives of your ancestors are too important to let them be forgotten.

New Year's Eve 1932

Tonight I want to shine the spotlight another writer in my family: my great-great aunt, Elsie Bishop Mulry. I never knew her, but I was blessed to read her narrative of the night she met her husband, my great-grandfather's brother, John Mulry. Without further ado, Elsie Mulry:

New Year's Eve, 1932 was a magical night. My future husband happened to be walking by The Club and saw me working behind the counter. I was wearing a dark red dress and when he saw me he said to himself, "There's the girl I'm going to marry!"

He came in and sat at the end of the counter. I waited on him and then went about my business, but every time I glanced at him he was looking right back at me. Something was nagging at me, and I finally realized I'd seen those eyes before, but where?

Then it struck me! In my daydreams about descending a staircase and looking into the adoring eyes of my escort, I had always pictured the eyes that were looking at me now!

It was nearing midnight and The Club was deserted except for the two of us. I walked over and refilled his coffee cup and we began talking. We talked about the weather, the basketball tournament, and of course about Franklin D. Roosevelt, who had recently been elected president and was promising to do so much to ease the pain that had gripped America.

As the horns and whistles began to blow, and the bells of St. Patrick's began to ring out the old and welcome the new year of 1933, a strange thing happened. Maybe it was because I was feeling sorry for myself for having to work while others were out whooping it up, or maybe it was the familiarity of the eyes I had seen so many times before, or maybe it was plain old Fate, whatever it was, I kissed a perfect stranger!

But John wasn't a stranger. Our kiss was as natural as if we had known each other forever. What should have been a casual kiss, wasn't. It was the start of something mighty sweet, and we both knew it. It was the start of the love and commitment to each other that would last the rest of our lives.

I'd had my share of proposals and propositions, but I'd never had a real romance, and that's what we had. There were love notes everywhere! We had a special way of holding hands, and a secret code. We had "our" song, "our" movie, "our" favorite radio program, and all of the other silly and sentimental things that memories are made of.

We were together as much as possible. We liked all the same things, the same food, the same movies, the same politics, everything! He even shared my belief in no sex before marriage, or at least he was smart enough to say he did! We were marvelously, outrageously, completely in love!

So, on May 30, 1934, the beautiful princess married the handsome prince. The rest, as they say, is history.

 

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Surname Saturday: My maternal line

For a woman, there's something extra special about discovering your female ancestors. They are the most elusive, aren't they? How many of us do a little happy dance when we find a maiden name. (Come on, you know you do.)

I've always been particularly interested in my direct maternal line. Just think how much we have been influenced by our mother, our mother's mother, our mother's mother's mother, and so on? It gives me the warm fuzzies just thinking about it. Now, I'm not saying that our mothers were perfect, but that's what makes them beautiful. They faithfully raised their children despite all their flaws. So, as a part of Geneabloggers' Surname Saturday, I am going to highlight each woman of my direct female line.

1. Eliana Grace Potter


This is my daughter. She's part of the direct female line, too! She was born in September 2008 in Indianapolis, Indiana.

2. Kathryn Suzanne Andrews

That's me. I was born in September 1985 in Indianapolis, Indiana. I married Ben Potter in 2007 and we have two children, Eliana and Micah.

3. Laurie Jo Lutz

My mother, Laurie Jo. She was born in August 1963 in Indianapolis, Indiana. She married my dad, Todd Andrews in 1982. They raised three children, myself, my sister Kristin, and my brother, Nicholas.

4. Jacqueline Ann Mulry
 
 My grandma, Jackie, was born in March 1945 in Indianapolis, Indiana. She married my grandfather, Robert Lutz, in 1962. They raised four children. She died in a tragic car accident in 1993.

5. Mary Ann Fox

Mary Ann was born in March 1918 in Indianapolis, Indiana. She married James Mulry in 1938. They raised four children. She died in 1975.

6. Katherine Margaret Garrity

Katherine was born in October 1889 in Connersville, Indiana. She married Arthur Fox some time around 1915, and they raised three children. She died in 1966.

7. Anna Walsh
Anna was born in August 1859 in England. She immigrated to Indiana when young and married John Garrity in 1879. They raised eight children. She died in 1905 in Connersville, Indiana.

8. Winifred
Winifred (surname unknown) was born in 1837 in Ireland. She immigrated first to England, where she married Edward Walsh. He died and she immigrated to Indiana in 1868 with her two daughters. She died in 1877 in Connersville, Indiana.

I do not have any information beyond Winifred. Someday perhaps I will. But I just love that my maternal line is only in Indiana and Ireland. It makes me feel so Irish, and so Hoosier. Love it. So, to sum up, my maternal line is as follows:

Andrews, Lutz, Mulry, Fox, Garrity, Walsh.

What's yours?

Treasure Chest Thursday: Jesse Vawter

Inspired by Geneabloggers' theme, Treasure Chest Thursdays, I am going to take the next few Thursdays to talk about some of my "favorite" ancestors. The theme is supposed to be about an heirloom, but I think I'll switch it up a bit to talk about treasured people instead. So this week I will highlight my 6th great-grandfather, Jesse Vawter.
Jesse Vawter was born on December 1, 1755 in Culpeper County, Virginia. As far as I know, he was the first ancestor of mine to come to Indiana Territory, in 1806, shortly after it opened up for settlement. He was married to Elizabeth Watts on March 29, 1781. They had nine children, and lived in Virginia, North Carolina, Kentucky, and eventually Indiana. He died on March 20, 1838 in Madison, Jefferson County, Indiana.

Jesse is probably best known for his preachin'. In his words, he had "a mechanical turn of mind," and was a carpenter and farmer, but in the early 1800s felt the call to become a preacher in his Baptist faith. He writes, "When my mind took a turn to preaching, it was the greatest trial I ever met with." He judged himself too poorly too preach, but eventually made peace with the fact that the Lord was calling him. The first sermon he ever preached was one of the first in Indiana: "among the cottonwoods on the [Ohio] river beach, a little above the stone mill. The text was the first verse first chapter of the Gospel of St. John. It was a funeral occasion, the death of Widow Black." Jesse baptized over 800 people in Indiana alone, performed over 200 marriage ceremonies, and planted several churches in the surrounding counties. He and his family were instrumental in the spread of the Baptist faith in early southern Indiana.

Of course, I believe most genealogists are searching for more than facts. We want proof that our ancestors were people, who felt the same things we feel - love, sadness, peace, hurt. We are living proof that they lived and moved on this earth - they are our family, they helped shape who our families are today. So the true treasure of the day is about Jesse Vawter's character, in the words of his own family:

One piece describes Jesse: Jesse Vawter was a quiet, thrifty, brown-eyed, peace-loving man. One granddaughter recalls, "I can remember Grandfather well, and I love his very name." Another granddaughter, Frances (my ancestor), says of him, "Grandfather was of a gentle nature. Everyone loved him. He used to ride down horseback from Madison to see us. We would run to meet him, and he would say, "There come my chickens!" He had lost the sight of one eye in an accident. We used to slip up on his blind side and kiss him, and he would always jump as though we had surprised him greatly. He never was impatient with us."

In our search for our ancestors, let us never forget one thing: Our ancestors are first and foremost, family.


Who is your favorite ancestor? Share in the comments below, or message me on Facebook, and I might highlight your ancestor next! www.facebook.com/katieandrewspotter
 

Blog tour

I have been tagged by Tracy Kauffman at http://tracykauffman.blogspot.com/ on the Next Big Thing Blog Tour. As a part of the tour, I have been asked to answer a few questions below:

1) What is the working title of your book(s)? Going over Home (out now) & Going over Jordan (coming next year)

2) Where did the idea come from for your book? I have always been interested in genealogy, and enjoyed writing stories based on my ancestors' lives. The book is an extension of this interest.

3) What genre does your book fall under? historical fantasy

4) Which actors would you choose to play in a movie rendition of your book? Man, that is difficult as I'm not really up on actors these days. For Maddie, it would have to be someone with brown hair and freckles, and Henry would have to have a boyish look with a mop of light brown hair.

5) What is the one sentence synopsis of your book? When Maddox Fox discovers the secret behind her family, she is forced to make a move back in time.

6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? Going over Home is self-published

7) How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? about 2 years, 1 more to edit

8) What other books would you compare this story to? Running out of Time

9) Who or what inspired you to write the book? my interest in genealogy and Indiana history

10) What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? One reviewer describes the book: "Sisterly friendship, adventure, mystery, a leap in time, a villian, and even a little romance all tied together with a solid narrative voice"

You can find Going over Home on Amazon or, if you're in the Indianapolis area, at the Conner Prairie gift shop in Fishers or the shop at the Johnson County Museum of History in Franklin. If you've read Going over Home, scroll down for an excerpt of Going over Jordan!

Excerpt from Ripples Crossed

This is an excerpt from a story I started back in 2005, called Ripples Crossed. Its about a guy named Rory who has fallen in love with and is pursuing a young woman named Darby. They live on my made-up planet of Osiris. This is one of my favorite scenes. Hope you enjoy.

Leaves crunched underneath my horse’s hooves. The trees closed in on my path and reached out their arms to grab me. I could tell I was getting closer by the time this happened. The river was fast moving and I could hear its waters through the rustling of the trees. But before I could see it, there was one obstacle in particular that I had to force my horse through. A huge rhododendron bush stood right in the middle of the grassy path, and bramble grew on all sides of it. My horse hated this and so did I but we had to squeeze through. As we approached the pink-flowered bush I leaned against my horse’s neck, patting him and encouraging him. He grunted unhappily but I urged him forward. I bent with his head as he made his way around the bush and under the stinging thorns. He had no trouble getting through but apparently my hair did this time. As he lifted his head on the other side and made to move, my head jerked back with the thorns. “Whoa!” I cried, bringing him to a stand-still. Keeping one hand on the reins, I carefully lifted the other to the back of my head. The thorns were tangled right in with my brown hair. I knew I’d gone too long without a haircut and made plans right there to get one as soon as I got myself out of this little dilemma. I let out an annoyed groan as I started to unfasten the stubborn thorns from my scalp. My fingers throbbed as the prickles bit them and I had to take quite a few breaks while doing this. My horse whinnied, growing impatient with my abysmal fine-motor skills. Frustrated howls began to accompany this chore until the birds grew still around me. My fingers were working ferociously and this silence didn’t bother me until it was suddenly broken by a crash to my left. I froze, my ears pricked. My eyes moved to my horse; he was alert as well. The forest was motionless for a minute, then I heard it again. Something was stomping through the trees, and it wasn’t very far off. I couldn’t move my head to look, but I pushed my eyes as far left as they could go. All green to that way – wait. There were two pairs of eyes staring at me - attended by frizzy orange hair. Darby was standing there, watching me.

My heart swelled. I’d finally caught her! I smirked at her, letting her know of my achievement and her loss. She grinned back and suddenly the reality of my situation hit me. Here I was with my hair stuck in a thorn bush, sitting atop a horse that was about ready to bolt from beneath me, and the object of my affections was staring right at me. My frozen fingers thawed and my other hand moved unconsciously to aid it. My horse felt the clutch on his bridle release and did what I had feared – bolted out from beneath me. My feet slid from the stirrups as my legs soared backwards, leaving me swinging from the tree. I heard a snicker to my left and knew Darby was laughing at me. Before I knew it, the branch had broken from my weight and I was on the ground, half a branch sticking out of my head. An advancing rustle told me that Darby was actually moving towards me. A second later she emerged from the trees, her dress torn and mangled from the thorns. I looked pitifully up into her laughing face. It made me completely forget my predicament for the moment. Amusement was etched all over it - in her eyes, her mouth, her cheeks… it lit up her entire body. Her movements were usually dull and slow, but I now watched with amazement as her arms moved jovially to remove the thorns from my hair. They were gone in an instant and she gracefully disposed them onto the ground and stood up. I rose at her speed and gaped down into her face. Her eyes thinned and her face reddened, her freckles flaming. I caught myself and glanced to my right. My horse was standing shamefully on the other side of the bush. I strode over to him, grabbed his reins, and moved back to Darby’s side where I was snapped back into my senses.

“Thank you,” I murmured, looking into her face. She smiled back at me, the amusement still dancing in her green eyes. I wanted so bad to put my arm around her but I knew that would frighten her. So I just gently took hold of her elbow and turned her around. We walked back to town together. 

Teaser from the sequel!

Here is a teaser from the sequel, now entitled Going over Jordan. In Wayfaring Stranger, "Jordan" symbolizes the Ohio River, the dividing line between southern and northern states, and an important milestone on the Underground Railroad. This book follows the second Fox sister, Ellie, as she transitions into life in the past and becomes an agent on the Liberty Line, and...as she falls in love. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Chapter 3

The next day I received a message from Philip Caylor, the stationmaster just south of us. There was to be a large load of cargo moving through the next night. Four large packages and three small. I knew there was no way the Burns family in town could accommodate such a large load—they’d have to spend the day in the Collins’ barn. Wes had a small cellar in a corner of his barn, and while not exactly comfortable, it was the best place to hide in the area. And since the night Maddie had thwarted slave hunters there had been no visits at their house, and I prayed it’d continue to be that way.

I lit the lantern and placed it in the window that night. I sat by the fire and busied myself knitting a pair of mittens, grateful Mama had taught me all things domestic. At least I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb in that regard, like I did in many other ways. I didn’t always sit or talk like a lady—and my slang slipped out too often (“freaking ridiculous”). I didn’t know how to properly interact with others, and apparently, according to Grandma, I told awkward jokes too much. I didn’t know how to speak out in Meeting, didn’t even know what to say. I didn’t know—

A knock at the door.

I jumped up and set my knitting down on the table. I opened the door a crack and peeked out.

“Good evening. Who sent you?”

“A friend of a friend.”

            I counted: four adults and three children. This was my delivery.

            “Just a moment.” I closed the door gingerly, lit a candle, then blew out the lantern. I stepped outside and motioned for the runaways to follow me. One of the children was whimpering, and I feared it’d turn into a louder cry. I hurried my pace but the passengers lagged behind. I knew they must be tired, but they had to hurry.

            “Pick up the pace,” I hissed.

            “Yes’m,” came the wearied reply.

            Suddenly I heard a terrifying sound—horse hooves.

            “Hurry!” I hung back and let them pass me. “Hurry!”

            Wes’ and Amelia’s cabin came into sight at last and I didn’t even bother to knock on their door. I ran into the barn and went straight to the northeast corner. I felt around for the door handle. Where was it? I tore through the hay and then finally my fingers hit something hard. I threw open the door and ushered my fugitives inside.

            “Blow out your candles,” I whispered. At last, they all descended inside. I closed the door and kicked hay over it, then ducked behind a tree outside. I had no idea what I’d say if I was found, and I hoped against all hope it wouldn’t come to that.

            I heard the horses come closer and then saw them round the bend into the clearing. One man swung down off his horse and rapped on the cabin door.  

            “Open up!”

            The door opened slowly with a squeak moments later.

            “Can I help you?” came Wes’ tired voice.

            “We have reason to believe you have some of our stolen property,” the man said, then spit on the ground at Wes’ feet.

            Now I was glad Wes didn’t know about the refugees hidden in his barn. He wouldn’t have to lie.

            “I’m sorry, you have the wrong house.”

            “Come on, negro. They’re here. Open up.”

            “You’re welcome to search the house, but you won’t find nobody here. Please don’t wake my wife.”

            I hunched down on my knees and held my breath. Please don’t search the barn, please don’t search the barn….

            “Nobody’s here. Take me to the barn.”

            Wes walked out of the cabin with the hunters on his tail. I figured he must know we were around once he saw the door was open, but….

            “You don’t lock up your barn for the night, negro?”

            “Musta blown open,” Wes said serenely.

            Just then I brought out of my pocket one of the gadgets Mama had sent me from the future. I knew if they stepped over the cellar door they’d hear it was hollow, or heaven forbid, one of the children cried out. I pressed firmly on the high frequency whistle and suddenly all three of Wes’ dogs started barking in the barn. I held my breath and minutes later the hunters walked out shaking their heads. Without an apology to Wes, the men mounted their horses and were off.

            As soon as I could no longer hear the horses, I stole out of my hiding place and knocked lightly on the door. A very haggard-looking Wes answered.

            “Ellie!” he hissed. “Have you been here all along?”

            “Yes, and there are seven packages in your barn,” I said breathlessly.

            “Oh, law. They in da cellar? Thank the Lord they didn’t find them.” Wes nearly collapsed against the door in his relief. Amelia came up next to him.

            “Yes, thank the good Lord,” she whispered. “I trust they are hungry?”

            “I’m sure they are. There are three small packages, that didn’t stop long at our house.”

            “Alright. Well, Ellie, you gwon home and I’ll see they’re fed. Bless you.” Amelia smiled at me, and patted my arm.

            “I’ll be back in the morning to check on them,” I whispered, then headed back up the trail. I collapsed into bed and went straight to sleep.