Show and Tell for Posterity

Many family historians, myself included, take the necessary time and energy to track down every detail possible about their ancestors, but make very little time for recording their own lives and experiences.  Who would not rather learn about an ancestor through his or her own writings:  stories, letters, notes, and diaries?  Let's face it, though vital, census, and other genealogy records are useful in many regards, they lack personal perspective.  Like cocoa without sugar... hmmm, something's missing!

Family Tree magazine recently published an article with guidelines for answering some basic questions your descendants will probably want to know the answers to:  "16 Things to Write Down About Yourself for Posterity."  Diane Haddad, the author, states:  "We forget to preserve information about our own lives. Thus, in 100 or 200 years, our children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews will be struggling to understand our lives and what we were really like."  To make matters worse, most modern day correspondence is done digitally, through texting, e-mail, and social media, from which the data is not likely to be preserved.  We are less likely to find printed documentation generated by persons alive now within the archives, libraries, and depositories of the future, unlike the paper trail of previous generations.

So, what if you would like to leave a personalized record of your life experiences, but are not much into writing about yourself?  You have heard the saying that, "one picture is worth a thousand words."  A way to organize and preserve family history that I thoroughly enjoy is by designing photo books.  You can create them using many online vendors, including:  Costco Photo, Shutterfly, Snapfish, Walgreens, and others.  There are review websites than can help you determine which vendor to use.  Or, just pick one and dive right in!

Covers from a couple of photo "memory" books I created.

At this point, I have completed a half-dozen photo books, some that contain vintage family photographs, and others that serve as memory books (think "scrapbook").  I have plans for more, because they are fun to create, and the recipients really enjoy them.  Also, the books are "print-on-demand"; you can have just one printed at a time, or multiples.  Your book stays on the vendor website, protected by your log in and password, and it remains available to edit or print whenever you like.  As far as content goes, you could even address the "16 things to write down about yourself" by carefully selecting photographs, and then including names, dates, places, and other interesting information in the captions.  I scanned various memorabilia to add, as well:  cards, letters, childhood drawings, notes, and especially, genealogy and DNA charts.  I also created "favorites" collages using online images; these collages are based on the preferences of the person who is the subject of the memory book.

A "favorite things" collage.

Television shows that had a personal impact.

A Useful Tip

Since photo book vendors can only accept certain file extensions when images are uploaded (.jpg, .tif, .bmp, and .png), you may have to work around this a bit.  To create collages, I used a word processing program (Microsoft Word).  Then, I printed the finished pages out and scanned them as images, in order to create the correct file extension for uploading to the vendor's software.  There may be other methods to achieve the same result, but it is not as hard as it sounds--only a few extra steps are required.

A couple of photographs from my childhood along with a letter sent by Santa Claus (aka, my dad), mailed from North Pole, Alaska, of course!

A U.S. Army veteran's World War II memories.

As you can see, the possibilities are endless with photo books, either for your own story, or for someone else's.  They are fairly quick to self-publish, and there is no end to the ways you can be creative.  Once you get going, I think you will find it hard to stop.

Geneabloggers.com Interview

I was pleasantly surprised to meet Tessa Keough recently, who prepares some of the "May I Introduce You to..." articles on the Geneabloggers.com, an online genealogy-based community created by Thomas MacEntee.  I was even more surprised when Tessa wanted to interview me, even though I was previously interviewed in 2010.  She indicated that she wanted to address how a blogger's participation changes over time--how blogging, as well as focus and inspiration, evolves.  You can read the "May I [Re-] Introduce You To:  Chery Kinnick" interview on the Geneabloggers site.  Thank you, Tessa and Geneabloggers.com!

Elmer Strand, Norwegian-American Bachelor, Continued

As a child, I was delighted by the distraction of new adults entering into my sheltered world.  They came through the front door, often smiling, and left behind new sights, sounds, and stories.  Blood relatives or relatives by marriage, and even my mother's friends from "back home" in Minnesota would sometimes land in our living room for a few hours.  They always left our house fully-fueled.  My Mom's ingrained habits would not have permitted her to allow a guest to leave without being offered the usual round of coffee, sandwiches, cookies, and fruit, or whatever we had on hand.  As a quiet and cautious youngster, I did not ask many questions, but I had a great curiosity about family connections and how my parents came to know these visitors.

I clearly recall Elmer Strand as a lanky and laid-back older gentleman.  Our visit with him during the summer of 1965 included the experiencing a new location outside the comfortable and familiar surroundings at home.  The summer before I entered middle school, Mom asked Dad to drive the four of us (Dad, Mom, my 6 year-old sister Becky, and me) to Sonoma County to visit Elmer.  We had just moved from our house in Richmond, California (San Francisco East Bay), to nearby El Cerrito.  After all the work involved in moving and setting up a new household, Mom was looking for a little rest and recreation.  Back then, driving to Sonoma County from the San Francisco Bay Area was the equivalent of a pleasant day trip into the country.  Sonoma County, part of the beautiful Redwood Coast area in California, is also wine country, and has long, meandering two-lane highways that climb, dip, and roll gently past vineyards and farms, toward the rugged Northern California ocean beaches I knew and loved as a youngster.

Elmer Strand with his family, to that point (left to right):  Thomas (father), Theodore, Elmer, Arthur, and Regina (mother), ca. 1895, Chippewa County, Minnesota.


When I asked my mother who Elmer Strand was, she said that he was a longtime friend of my grandfather's.  Elmer, who was the eldest of his siblings, had never been married, and my maternal grandfather, Ernest Johnson, had been a widower for many years.  The two men were close in age to one another.   Elmer Strand was born on March 4, 1890 in Sparta Township, Chippewa County, Minnesota, and Grandpa (Ernest) was born on January 23, 1889 in nearby Granite Falls Township.  Elmer eventually moved to California from Minnesota as an adult, as did Ernest. When Ernest Johnson retired in the early 1960s from the Ford Motor Plant in Milpitas, California, he sold his house in Campbell and took an extended vacation on the southern Oregon coast. Elmer Strand went along.  The two men lived in Ernest’s trailer for a few months and did a lot of fishing.  It must have been old Norwegian bachelor heaven!

It was not until many years later, after I began genealogy pursuits in earnest, that I found out Elmer Strand was actually a cousin to Grandpa.  Elmer Strand's parents were Thomas Einersen Strand and Berthe Regine "Regina" Winje.  Regina (see post entitled Duty, Fate, and Beauty), was a younger half-sister to Grandpa's father, Ole M. Johnson.  Elmer was the oldest of a large family of siblings.  His brothers included:  Arthur (1892-1967); Theodore (1894-1973), Lambert (1897-1969), and Thomas Raymond (1899-1981).  A sixth boy, name unknown, did not survive birth.  After giving birth to Thomas Raymond in 1899, Regina died unexpectedly, leaving a widowed husband with five young sons.  When Thomas E. Strand married Beate Matilda "Tilda" Nelson in 1902, Elmer was further blessed with eight half-siblings:  Alvin (1902-1989), Isella (1904-1908), Noel (1906-1959), Gerda "Sylvia" (1908-1994), Stella (1910-1910), Olaf (1910-1982), Maude (1912-1968), and Margaret (1915-2003).  One of his half sisters died as an infant, and the other lived only to about four years of age.  Elmer headed a list of Thomas E. Strand's offspring that numbered three girls and eight boys that survived to adulthood.  Perhaps this large number had something to do with Elmer eventually striking out on his own and never marrying and raising his own family.



Elmer Strand as a young man, ca. 1918.  Detroit Lakes, Minnesota.

Elmer was confirmed at Saron Lutheran Church in Chippewa County, Minnesota on October 15, 1905.  His WWI and WWII draft registration cards indicate that he had black hair and light blue eyes--a striking combination.  Judging by the photo to the left (cropped from a family portrait), he was an attractive young man.  He was 5 ft. 8 ins. tall, and at age fifty-two, he weighed in at a lanky 120 pounds.  His main work was as a farm or ranch hand, and it appears he traveled around for various jobs.  In 1910, at the age of twenty, he was still helping out at his father's farm in Sparta, Chippewa County.  After leaving home, he boarded on Foster Ave. in Baltimore, Maryland, and by 1920 was working as a reamer at the shipyards.  In 1930, he was renting a place on his brother Theodore's property in Stony Run, Yellow Medicine County, Minnesota.  He applied for a Social Security card in the state of Illinois before 1951, and may have even worked in Canada.

Elmer Strand (center) with Ernest Johnson, and my mother, Doris Johnson.  Photograph was taken ca. 1948 in the front yard of the flourplex where Ernest's sister, Mabel Johnson, and his daughter, Doris, lived in Richmond, California.


In Elmer Strand’s later years, he was employed as a ranch hand in Sonoma County and was still quite lively at the time my family visited him in 1965. Elmer lived simply, in a trailer on the ranch owner’s property. At the time of his death on October 29, 1985, he was a resident at the London House Convalescent Hospital in Sonoma. Though raised a Lutheran, Elmer became a member of the Swedenborgian Church in San Francisco.  It is thought that the ranch owners converted Elmer to their church since he had the opportunity to ride along to services with them each Sunday.   After Elmer's death, his ashes were scattered in the Pacific Ocean just beyond the Golden Gate Bridge in a communal, clergy-led ceremony aboard The Neptune Society’s yacht, the Naiad.

Related posts on Nordic Blue:

Elmer Strand, Norwegian-American Bachelor
Duty, Fate, and Beauty


Ancestry.com sources:

--Border Crossing:  From U.S. to Canada, 1908-1935.
--California, Death Index, 1940-1997.
--Social Security Death Index.
--U.S., Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, Records, 1875-1940.
--U.S. Federal Censuses for 1910, 1920, and 1930.
--U.S., World War I Draft Registration Cards, 1917-1918.
--U.S., World War II Draft Registration Cards, 1942.

635 Souls Missing: A Story of the SS Norge Disaster.

Story updated and reposted from 2013.

SS Norge, ca.1890-1900. The ship's capacity was 800 persons. (Library of Congress Prints and Photographs, digital ID def.4a15903)

Titanic's Predecessor

Nearly eight years before the sinking of the RMS Titanic, another maritime disaster occurred that should have signaled significant changes needed within the ship building industry.  On April 15, 1912, and after, the news of the Titanic sinking was predominate in media coverage and popular culture, in part because of the catastrophic loss of souls (over 1500) in the frigid waters off Newfoundland, but, also by virtue of its many wealthy and well-known passengers, who had been aboard the largest, most "sea-worthy" vessel to date.

In late June 1904, the SS Norge, a Danish iron-clad passenger liner, boarded passengers at ports of call in Copenhagen, Oslo, and finally Kristiansand, Norway.  The steamship, which was full of mostly poor European emigrants (Russians, Scandinavians, Germans, Britons, and a few Americans), was bound for New York.  On June 28, under calm skies, the Norge ran aground at Hasselwood Rock, the upper portion (cone) of an extinct volcano near Rockall, off the coast of Scotland, and sank rapidly.  Of the 727 passengers and 68 crew, many of the 635 who died were lost at sea in an area where no mariner in his right mind would attempt a rescue.



View Larger Map



View Larger Map


Does the greater number of souls lost on the Titanic warrant greater attention and empathy than the fewer numbers aboard the Norge?  It is useless to compare, and even more difficult to understand loss when dealing with such large numbers.  The tale of human suffering is told with greater clarity when considering one soul at a time.  Among the lives lost at sea aboard the SS Norge that summer's day in 1904 was a 15-year-old Norwegian girl named Josefine.  She had just departed her homeland in order to join her parents and siblings in Buzzle, Beltrami County, Minnesota, where they had settled the year before.  When Josefine began her journey, excited about what life would bring in her new homeland, she could not know that her adolescent dreams would end nearly as soon as they had begun.


Family Lore

When I initially began researching the genealogy of my Johnson family line with a publication in mind, I paid a visit to cousin in Oregon I had not seen in some years, who was the only son of Carl and Thea (Johnson) Humberstad (Thea being one of my paternal great aunts).  I learned something about the Humberstads, her husband's family, that I had not known before.  Carl Rafinus Humberstad emigrated from Davik, Sogn og Fjordane Norway to Minnesota in 1903 with his parents, Jørgen Simon and Anne Martinsdatter Humberstad, and his sister, Oline.  Another of Carl's elder sisters, Josefine, left Norway after the rest of the family.  I was told that her passage had been booked on the ill-fated Titanic voyage, and that she never made it to America.

Who would not be intrigued with the possibility of a Titanic tale among the relations?  Being a self-appointed family historian, I knew I had to get to the bottom of this story, even if it was not about a blood relative.  It was too intriguing to leave alone, and in truth, any Norwegian-American experience appeals to the overall community of affiliated researchers.  So, I went back home to the Seattle area and began researching Norwegian census records and other appropriate sources, and I was able to verify that "Josefine Karoline Jørgensdatter Humbørstad" did exist, in Norway.  But, after reading Titanic passenger lists forwards and backwards, and checking U. S. census records, I simply could not find anything relating to her fate.  I called my cousin to say I was not having any luck proving the information, and asked if he was certain his young aunt had been on the Titanic.  But, he did not know anything other than what he had already passed along to me.

If I have learned anything from years of doing genealogy, it is that success can often be achieved by giving a problem a good rest and revisiting it later on.  Sometimes the wait can produce additional internet sources, and sometimes it is simply a fresh approach that helps most.  This is exactly what I did when I recently decided to do more keyword searches on the Titanic passenger list and Norwegians.  Of the links that popped up was one with a description containing the phrase:  "Titanic's predecessor," and this caught my attention immediately.  I found other references to the SS Norge disaster, but also to a British diving expedition in 2003 that discovered the exact location of the shipwreck in time for the centennial of the sinking.  There was mention of a passenger list.  The SS Norge event was significant enough to the lives of many Norwegians that I was hopeful my new search would be fruitful.

When I located the emigration list for the SS Norge on the Norwegian records database, Digitalarkivet, there was no mistaking Josefine among the names listed.  As expected, she was not among the few survivors; her fate was listed as omkom (dead, or lost).  So, my cousin's young aunt had not been on the Titanic, after all, but on a Titanic-like shipwreck.

More to come on Josefine Humberstad, her family, and her fate, in the next post:

http://nordicblue.blogspot.com/2013/04/635-souls-missing-story-of-ss-norge.html

635 Souls Missing: A Story of the SS Norge Disaster, Part II

Story updated (with new photos) and reposted from 2013.

Josefine Jorgensdatter Humberstad, with an unidentified young man--perhaps someone she intended to marry.  Photo taken in Bergen, Norway, possibly just before boarding the S.S. Norge for America, ca. June 1904.  Courtesy of Karen Terrien.

Words cannot describe the anxiety that stirs within a mother and father anxiously awaiting the safe passage of a young daughter from halfway across the world.  It is true now, and was probably even more so in times past, when long-distance travel often meant potentially hazardous sea voyages across thousands of miles of unpredictable ocean.

One can only imagine what new American immigrants Jørgen and Anne Humberstad experienced when, during the summer of 1904, they were notified that their daughter, Josefine Karoline, never made it to the shores of America from Norway, as planned.  Not only that, but her body was one of over 600 lost at sea in the most catastrophic sea disaster to date.  Even more tragic was that it had been an entirely preventable occurrence, if only the captain had adhered to the stringent guidelines of his maritime training.

Jørgen Simon Humberstad (April 4, 1845-October 16, 1916) and his wife, Anne Martinusdatter (July 17, 1854-April 23, 1941) left their home parish of Davik, Sogn og Fjordane, Norway in 1903, and settled on a farm in Buzzle, Betrami County, Minnesota. [1]  Accompanying them on their voyage were their daughter, Oline, and son, Karl (Carl) Rafinus Humberstad.  Their older daughter, Josefine Karoline, remained in Norway with family friends or relatives until the following year, in order to complete her confirmation within the Lutheran Church.  For Norwegian Lutherans, confirmation as a sign of becoming an adult in the eyes of the church was extremely important.  So, it is not surprising that the timing of Josefine's confirmation encouraged her parents to agree to postpone her emigration until the following year. [2]

Map showing the municipality of Davik, Norway with the 1905 boundaries.  Sogn og Fjordane Fylke, 1920.

It appears that young Josefine did not depart Norway on her own.  Another family residing in Davik, Sogn og Fjordane registered for passage on the SS Norge the same day as Josefine (June 18, 1904).   Mikkel Pedersen Tømmerstøl (58), his wife, Anna Mikkelsdatter Tømmerstøl (61), and their 15-year-old daughter, Rasmine Andrea Mikkelsdatter, were headed for Lead, South Dakota.  The Tømmerstøl 's eldest daughter, Anne Martine, also traveled with the family, but she was bound for Dagen, North Dakota. [3]  No doubt, the Tømmerstøls planned to see Josefine Humberstad safely to her family in Buzzle, Minnesota before proceeding to South Dakota.  In a sad turn of events, the entire Tømmerstøl family perished along with Josefine Humberstad during the wreck of the SS Norge.  On the passenger list each person's destiny is listed as omkom, or lost.

What happened during the voyage of the SS Norge in June 1904 that caused so many people to perish?  The first news of the disaster appeared in major newspapers on July 4, about six days after the sinking.  Here is what the New York Times published on its front page on July 5, 1904:

AWFUL DEATH PANIC AS THE NORGE SANK
Men, Women, and Children Fought for Life.
ASLEEP WHEN SHE STRUCK
Captain Went Down with Ship But Came Up and Was Saved.
Probably 646 Drowned
Off 774 Persons on Board Only 128 Are Known to Have
Been Rescued-Tales of the Survivors

GRIMSBY, England, July 4.-A lone pile of granite [Rockall], rising sheer out of the Atlantic 200 miles from the Scottish mainland, is now a monument to almost 650 dead. Bodies wash against the rocks or lied in the ocean bed at its base. Near by, completely hidden in the water, is the Scandinavian-American liner Norge, which was carrying nearly 800 Danes, Norwegians, Swedes and Finns to join relatives or friends in America. Of these only 128 were saved, so far as is known...

A newspaper image of Rockall from 1904

As time progressed, the numbers of those who survived versus those lost would change until a final count had been determined.  What was fairly clear to all from the beginning was the turn of events.  On the morning on June 28, 1904, the SS Norge was navigating over St. Helen's Reef near Rockall, a 20-meter high, uninhabited, remote rocky islet in the North Atlantic Ocean, when it ran aground on Hasselwood Rock.  The area near Rockall, about 300 miles west of the Scottish coast, was a well-known hazard to mariners. The ship had been taken off course willfully by its captain.  His decision had far reaching consequences, which he would pay little price for, compared to his passengers.  Ships Nostalgia website contains an explanation for the variation in the ship's course, which resulted in the tragedy: 

The normal route from Kristiansand to the North Atlantic was through the Pentland Firth and north of Rockall. As the weather was calm, with good visibility, Captain Valdemar Johannes Gundel, elected to take Norge south of Rockall. Although the southerly route was considered more hazardous, because of stronger and unpredictable currents, Captain Gundel had used it many times, as it postponed his ship’s entry into the Gulf Stream, with its often confused seas and restricted visibility.


The following is an excerpt of an abstract regarding an article published on February 7, 2004 in London's Daily Times: [4]

As the [SS Norge] steamed out into the Atlantic, one of the passengers, student Herman Lauritsen had no parental responsibilities and was enjoying the new experience. He marvelled at the expanse of sky and sea during the endless midsummer daylight. The morning of June 28 was calm, and as the morning sea mist drifted round the 3,000-ton vessel, he slept soundly. A newspaper report the following week gave his account of what happened next: 'I awoke suddenly when the ship ran aground and I ran onto the deck where there was an indescribable fear and commotion. A struggle for life was ravaging the ship like a storm and a voice from the bottom of the ship cried "Throw my children up on deck." The sight on the top deck was awful. People stood in front of the pile of life vests but they were not able to attach any of them because the ropes were rotten.

The ship was leaning upwards and people sliding downwards into the sea and a crazy man clutching a bundle of paper money just leapt from the top. As we row away from the ship everyone is swimming after us.' One of the five seaworthy lifeboats had picked up the man responsible for the catastrophe, Captain Valdemar Gundel, who had decided to let his passengers see the isolated pinnacle known as [Rockall] at close hand. He lived to face charges of criminal negligence but the ensuing court case was a farce. Both he and the shipping company were cleared of any responsibility for 653 deaths and the incident was airbrushed out of history until Orkney-based diver and historical researcher Kevin Heath located the exact position of the Norge. He is now heading the British contingent in a memorial expedition to HUSBANDS mark the centenary of the disaster.


Herman Lauritsen's story is but one told by survivors.  Others describe an even more harrowing situation, as related by "Phlebas" in a posting of a letter written by his grandfather, Hans (a survivor of the SS Norge disaster) to relatives back in Norway: [5]

We had beautiful weather the whole time [...] The first three days people were quiet, walking forth and back on the deck and talking to each other. The day before the terrible tragedy, people began to enjoy themselves, dancing on the deck, laughing and having a good time. At 10:00 I went to bed and slept all night, only to be awakened early I the morning by a terrific crash. I rushed out of bed to find my clothes, but someone had taken mine by mistake. I heard water rushing under [?] and everyone was up on deck. I was the last one below. I found the stairs from the lower deck broken, so I had to climb to the middle deck. It was crowded at the exit, everyone wanting to be first. I finally got through and saw a terrific sight. The deck was full of adults and children half-dressed and running and crying and calling to each other.

...I went over to the side of the ship and it stood still. I saw it had started to sink some and I saw the ship’s crew coming with life belts on. I knew it was grave, so I ran down to find a life belt and some clothes, but the water was already up to the bearths and I had to get back on deck. Three sobbing elderly ladies asked me to find them a life belt. I ran down again, not finding anything. Now the water was coming up so fast, suitcases and other debris were floating all over. I came back up without anything and they were desperate. I stood and looked at the people. I could not realize that we all should die now. Many were on their knees praying and crying, others were wringing their hands in despair....

Hans managed to jump into one of the lifeboats that had first turned upside down while becoming caught in a tackle, but was freed afterwards by cutting the ropes with an axe.  He continued:

...The Norge should have been sailing north of the area, when it hit the Rockall Bank in the Atlantic Ocean. We could see the ship was sinking fast and the water was rushing over the front deck, then the stern part of the vessel went down. The people had crowded together, but we didn’t hear any crying because the wind took the sound away. Soon we could not see the ship anymore. Slowly, the stern came up and it went under again with about 650 people. It was a sad moment, and everyone in the boat wept. One had his mother, seven sisters and one brother. And others had relatives on board. Now we could wait no longer, the ones who could, began to row.

These are just a portion of the personal memories available in the recounting of events during the Norge's sinking.  And what of Josefine Humberstad's story?  As a non-survivor, we will never hear her words or impressions of that day in June 1904, when so many lives were lost to the sea.  Were she and her traveling companions awake and awaiting breakfast when they heard and felt the first danger sign, like so many others?  Were they able to keep together as they struggled upward to the deck to assess the situation, or did they become separated and face the end without a friend or family member to cling to?  Although her fate and that of many others aboard the SS Norge are known, their experiences can never be fully imagined.

The Norwegian author, Per Kristian Sebak, also had many questions about the wreck of the SS Norge and the experiences of its passengers.  Sebak did extensive research on the shipwreck and related events and wrote Titanic's Predecessor:  The S/S Norge Disaster of 1904 (Seaward Publishing, February 29, 2004).  You will find many additional stories in Sebak's book.

There are also many websites containing information about the SS Norge disaster.  Here are just a few:

Access My Library:  How the SS Norge and 600 lost souls were eclipsed by Titanic
Comhairle nan Eilean Siar:  Friday photo:  survivors of the SS Norge
Divernet:  Book & Video Review:  Titanic's Predecessor by Per Kristian Sebak
NoLimitsDiving:  Project SS Norge, 1904-2004
Norway Heritage:  The Sinking of the Norge and The S/S Norge disaster-newspaper reports
Tasglann:  The SS Norge Disaster:  June/July 1904

Part I of "635 Souls Missing:  A Story of the SS Norge Disaster":

http://nordicblue.blogspot.com/2015/05/635-souls-missing-story-of-ss-norge.html

The Jorgen Humberstad family after the death of Josefine.  Jorgen and Anne are in front, with children Marie and Carl in back.  Daughter Olene is not present.  Photo was most likely taken in Beltrami County, Minnesota, ca. 1905/06, after Marie, the last family member to immigrate to North America, arrived from Norway.  Courtesy of Karen Terrien.

Sources:

[1] Vital statistics from tombstone inscriptions at Aure Immanuel Cemetery, Beltrami County, Minnesota; Humberstads' immigration year from 1930 U. S. Federal Census for Buzzle, Beltrami, Minnesota; Norway residential information from Digitalarkivet (http://www.arkivverket.no/digitalarkivet), 1900 Norway census, Davik, Fjordane, Norway; U. S. residential information from 1910 U. S. Federal Census, Place:  Buzzle, Betrami, Minnesota; Roll:  T24_690; Page: 2A; Enumeration District: 0023; FHL microfilm: 1374703 (Jorgen and Anne Humberstad, with son "Rafenus," age 14).
[2] Digitalarkivet (http://www.arkivverket.no/digitalarkivet).  Digitized parish records for Davik/Davik, Confirmation Records, September 27, 1903, Josefine Karoline Jorgensdatter (born at Humbørstad farm).
[3] Digitalarkivet.  Passenger list for the June 28, 1904 expedition of the SS Norge.
[4] Gourlay, Kath.  "Death on the rocks; How the reckless captain of a ship unfit to sail killed 653 people in search of a new life... and how their bitter legacy was ignored."  Daily Mail [London (UK)] 07 Feb 2004:  36.
[5] The New Coffee Room; post by "Phlebas" regarding a letter by his grandfather, Hans, a survivor of the SS Norge.

A Stitch in Time

Some years ago, my husband and I were visiting my mother in Salem, Oregon, when a cousin-in-law called and asked us to stop by.  Wilma Moen had been widowed a few years earlier, and when we arrived at her  door she said, "I'm planning on selling the house soon, and I have something I thought you might want."  She took us to the master bedroom and pointed out an old rotary sewing machine sitting at the side of the bed.  The oak cabinet with three small drawers on each side was in near perfect shape, and opening the lid revealed a gleaming black machine with gold decals with the name "White" across the front.  The old treadle machine had belonged to one of my great aunts, Cora Johnson Moen, who passed away on 28 May 1975, at age 83.  I suspect that the machine had not been put to much use for a few years before that, since she suffered greatly from Altzheimers late in her life.

Fast forward to the present, and that same White Family Rotary sewing machine sits at the end of my upstairs hallway here in Snohomish County, Washington.  Although its history is much appreciated, it has continued to sit virtually untouched.  So, at this point, the machine has been been retired for about as many years as Cora made steady use of it:  some 44 years of productive use, followed by the same number of years of not much happening.  The present being a halfway point or anniversary of sorts for this important but silenced family tool and artifact,  I decided it was time to change all that.

"The 'Economy,' Sears Roebuck's first rotary model introduced about 1920. Manufactured by the Standard Sewing Machine of Cleveland, Ohio, it was replaced by the White 'Franklin [Family?] Rotary' about 1926."   Sears Roebuck:  The Company and Its Machines (ISMACS International--International Sewing Machine Collectors Society).

To start, I sent an e-mail to the company that holds the White manufacturing records.  The White Sewing Machine Company was founded in 1858, acquired by Electrolux in 1986, and finally, bought by Husqvarna.  Husqvarna Viking responded promptly after looking up the serial number FR 3209480:  "Your White Family Rotary was manufactured 1926 in Cleveland, OH."

Pleased to make your acquaintance, White Family Rotary from Cleveland!  It had traveled from Ohio to Minnesota to Oregon, and then to Washington.  My inherited sewing machine now also had a birth date and a birthplace, and the rest is... well, family history.

I was anxious to place the date of manufacture for Aunt Cora's sewing machine not just because I am appreciative of antiques, but because the information gives a little insight into how and why it was acquired in the first place.  The manufacture date of 1926 is a little too late for it to have been purchased as a wedding present for Cora.  I can only assume that as a young wife and new mother with few funds to spare, she must have saved up for this domestic "work horse" on her own.  Perhaps she tucked away a little cash under the mattress now and again, or dropped extra coins into an old canning jar with determined reverence after taking the eggs to market.  Finally the exciting day arrived when she ordered her brand new treadle sewing machine from the Sears Roebuck catalog, which was a treasure trove for farm wives east, west, and midwestern.

Cora (Johnson) Moen was born on 15 July 1891 in Granite Falls Township, Chippewa County, Minnesota.  She was one of ten siblings who grew up as part of an early 20th Century Norwegian-American farm.  As the eldest daughter, she must have had a daily chore list that would make your head spin.  Many photographs of her as a young woman show her either staring with grim resignation, or scowling.  Even so, when my mother was growing up, she counted Cora as a favorite aunt, because she was maternal and caring in spite of the serious attitude that served her best in her youth.

Cora Johnson Moen with her husband, Emil, and their son, Harvey; photo taken ca. 1930 on their farm in Dudley, Minnesota.

 
When Cora purchased her new White Family Rotary machine, she was living with her husband, Emil Moen.  Cora married Emil in 1923, and the couple had their only son, Harvey, the year following.  It was likely the challenge of keeping the family clothed that prompted the purchase--her farming husband, and in particular, their young lickety-split son, who was all rough and tumble boy.  Cora may have been replacing an older, worn machine, but in any case, a farm wife could hardly be without a means to make her own clothing, bedding, and household furnishings, especially during the Depression years. 

According to my mother, Aunt Cora made heavy use of her White Family Rotary.  She was always sewing something to use, to wear, or to give as gifts.  With a large extended family that included parents, six brothers and two sisters and their spouses, and a growing number of nieces and nephews, she probably used her sewing machine nearly every day for decades.  I like to think that the flowered dark dress she wears in the 1930 photo above was made on the very same sewing machine that sits in my home today.

Cora Johnson Moen in about 1960, posing with her son, Harvey, and daughter-in-law, Wilma, in Salem, Oregon.  See, Aunt Cora was indeed capable of smiling!

New Museum in Maynard, Minnesota Collecting Memorabilia

The town of Maynard, Minnesota in Chippewa County has a little piece of my heart, being the longtime home of my Norwegian-American great grandparents, Ole B. and Anne Marie (Sloan) Berge, and their children.  I was recently contacted and asked if I had any photographs, stories or memorabilia to help the collection efforts of this new museum, and I'll be doing my part.  Here's a shout-out to my Berge relatives and others with family history in Maynard who can also help.

Please visit the information page for the new Maynard Museum.

Wish Books and Hardwood Floors

Edited and reposted from December 19, 2007


In the early 1960s, shopping was such a special occasion for my family that we went on purposeful expeditions only several times a year.  One time was during the inevitable "back to school" rush, and another always happened several weeks before Christmas.

My sister and I were never under the care of a babysitter, so on the chosen Friday night we waited for Dad to arrive home from work with great anticipation. We gulped a dinner of something like macaroni and cheese with canned green beans. Afterward, Mom struggled to get a coat and hat onto my fidgety little sister, and then checked for a third time that the shopping list was actually in her purse. Finally, we piled into Dad's red and white '57 Ford Ranch Wagon for a drive into town.

Becky sat sandwiched in the front seat between Dad and Mom, while I held on tight in the back seat and pressed my nose to the window, watching as headlights, taillights, and streetlights whizzed by. The color and sparkle of nighttime and festive lights, magnified through rain drops on the window glass, added to my holiday spirit.

We lived in the Richmond Annex along Carlson Boulevard, which consisted of homes built on landfill during the post World War II building boom. Woolworth's on Macdonald Avenue was the store of choice when Mom came out to Richmond from Minnesota in 1945. Department stores quickly became popular in the post war years, though Macy's was a little too expensive for Mom's taste. Once in a great while, we ventured into Oakland to visit the tall Sears Roebuck building, mostly to pick up catalog orders.




















Macdonald Avenue at night, Richmond, 1959. Richmond Street Scenes


For us, Christmas gift-buying usually meant driving through the rain and the dark into downtown Richmond to shop at Montgomery Ward. After Dad found a parking spot, we climbed up the few short steps to enter the store and get out of the rain. Inside, the overheated department store immediately made us feel uncomfortable: our wool coats began to steam and smell, and our wet shoes clicked and slipped against highly polished hardwood floors. The foreign sounds of elevator bells and far-away voices on the intercom captured my attention as we wove around islands of neatly piled clothing, as well as other shoppers. At the back of the store was a special area set up for Christmas, and we made a beeline for that before my sister's attention span had a chance to wane.

Mom had been formulating what to buy for weeks, but she always took my sister and I to have a look at some of the things we'd been drooling over in the catalog, known as the"Wish Book." Though tempted by what we saw, we never begged--we were taught restraint. Even so, my active little sister found it difficult to keep from touching all of the glittery treats among the displays, because she loved everything. But, greedy or entitled? Never! We could point and sigh and smile and hope, and that was all we ever needed
to do.

After World War II, Montgomery Ward had become the third-largest department store chain. In 1946, the Grolier Club, a society of bibliophiles in New York City, exhibited the Wards catalog alongside Webster's dictionary as one of 100 American books chosen for their influence on life and culture of the people. The brand name of the store became embedded in the popular American consciousness and was often called by the nickname "Monkey Wards," both affectionately and derisively.

In the 1950s, the company was slow to respond to general movement of the American middle class to suburbia. While its old rivals Sears, J.C. Penney, Macy's, and Dillard's established new anchor outlets in the growing number of suburban shopping malls, the top executives thought such moves as too expensive, sticking to their downtown and main street stores until the company had lost too much market share to compete with its rivals. Its catalog business had begun to slip by the 1960s...

--Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montgomery_Ward

Santa was in the store, of course, but after several unsuccessful attempts to get my sister to sit on his lap, Mom gave up. Becky was terrified by certain things, and one of them just happened to be Santa. Santa Claus in storybooks was a grand idea, but the reality of Santa-in-the-flesh was just too unsettling for her. I am reminded of a time when Becky was about three years old and Mom came home with new, dark-rimmed glasses. Oh, how Becky screamed and screamed - she was inconsolable! Poor Mom had to schedule another appointment and select something a bit less scary. You would never think that my sister, as a grown woman, would be into horror movies and collectibles, now would you?

When the tour of the toy department was completed and any grumbles had been quieted, Mom took us to look at clothing--a huge, dubious wasteland that made up most of the department store. That was Dad's cue to sneak back to the toy area and buy what Mom had instructed. I always knew what was happening, but it was more fun to pretend that I didn't.

Mom struggled to keep my sister in tow while searching for the perfect flannel shirt for Grampa, the tights Becky needed to match her cute holiday dress, or linens for Aunt Mabel. After the shopping was completed--or everyone had reached their tolerance limits--we all piled back into the station wagon for the drive home, grateful to be in the cool evening air once again. The purchased gifts were secretly stowed in the back of the wagon, safe in the dark from prying eyes and distanced from curious fingers.

While Mom and Dad recovered from sticker shock and the stress of another holiday buying expedition, the family headed home to the little white stucco house with red wood shutters in the Richmond Annex. We all anticipated another happy Christmas, but, we had made Montgomery Ward even happier, I'm sure.

Halloween Memories from 1987

Our beloved Kippers on the back deck with a cat Jack-O-Lantern pal.

 Happy Halloween!

from 26 years ago...

Go out and make some memories

An impressive ghoul and a fine old fashioned lady (Ian and Courtney), both sensibly dressed for the occasion in athletic shoes.

As I Remember Them

I just finished reading The Distancers:  An American Memoir, by Lee Sandlin, which is an extremely well written account of the history behind his great grandparents' old house in southern Illinois.  The author gradually unfolds the personalities and lives of the elder relatives who lived there, many of whom were a regular part of Sandlin's life as a youngster.  What struck me most was the realistic portrayal of the attitude children often have toward their elders:  not questioning, but simply accepting who their family members are at face value, with all their faults and idiosyncrasies, while any strengths or aptitudes are usually taken for granted.  Questioning, reasoning and approaching an understanding of our elders' choices and actions usually comes later in life, and it often happens too late for us to be able ask the relatives themselves about their experiences or intentions.  And, that is what family history is all about:  piecing together the purpose and meaning of our ancestors' lives in order to better understand them and ourselves.

I was never fortunate enough to experience living with my great aunts and uncles (or grandparents, for that matter), for extended periods of time.  But, I always looked forward to Dad's two week vacation in August when the old Ford Ranch Wagon was packed up with suitcases and a twin mattress in the back for my sister and myself to sleep on.  Almost yearly we traveled from the Bay Area to Salem, Oregon, where we stayed at Aunt Phyllis's house and made the endless round of visits to my grandfather and his many brothers and sisters, as well as a few cousins.

Everywhere we went, modest dining room tables groaned with coffee and milk, sandwiches or pastries, wonderfully diverse jello or pasta salads, and best of all--homemade doughnuts.  As a child, I too was content to observe and wonder, never asking questions of my elders.  If I had, I might have been ignored, or at best, received a thinned-out version of the truth for an answer, or worse--been teased for asking in the first place.  We children knew our place!  So now that these elders are gone, I am left to piece together their lives out of a desire to know how they coped with everyday problems, and where they reaped their rewards.  I also want to know simply because I care.

The following photograph of my grandfather (front and center) and six out of his nine siblings was taken in in 1967, following the funeral of their sister, Thea (Johnson) Humberstad.  Thea was the first of the ten siblings to pass on.   They are all departed now, the last being Oral Johnson in 1996.

(Left to right), Front row:  Cora (Johnson) Moen, Ernest Johnson (my maternal grandfather), and Mabel Johnson.  Back row:  Carl Johnson, Frank Johnson (the youngest of the siblings), Oral Johnson, and Ruben Johnson.  Missing from the photo are Bennett Johnson (the eldest) and Odin Johnson, both from Minnesota, and of course, Thea (Johnson) Humberstad, who was buried that day.  The photographer was one of their neices, either Doris Johnson Wheeler or Phyllis Johnson Rice.  Although the photograph is dated with the printing date of May 1967 on the border, it was taken shortly after Thea Humberstad's death in February of that year.

As Sandlin stated in his memoir:  "all stories of the past are sad."  This photo is sad, too, not just because of the event that created it (a funeral), but because of the shared anguish among close family members after the loss of a loved one, and having to come face-to-face with the harsh reality of their own mortality in the process.  The shell-shocked look on many of the faces--my grandfather's especially--continues to haunt me.  Still, I cherish the photo because it represents my grandfather with most of his brothers and sisters together in one place, with everyone appearing exactly as I remember them during the mid-1960s.

The photograph was shot with a Kodak Instamatic camera, which was all the rage in the mid-1960s.  The subjects posed inside my great aunt Mabel Johnson's living room, on Ellis Ave. NE in Salem.  I cannot fail to recognize the vintage dark red upholstered chair that Mabel always kept by the front door, and I owned it for a time after her death in 1983.  Grandpa must have been given the only seat for the portrait because he was the eldest sibling present.  Most of the family lived in Salem, Oregon or the surrounding area, but three of the brothers, Bennett, Odin, and Oral, lived in Minnesota.  Only Oral Johnson was able to make the trip to the west coast for the funeral.  Thea, the departed, lived in West Salem with her husband Carl Humberstad in a tiny and immaculate white clapboard house with baby pink trim.

The people in the photograph were a big part of the backbone of extended family that I knew and loved as a youngster.  I miss them all, and if I could have one more chance to see them, there would be a thousand questions for each and every one.  All stories of the past may be sad in some way, mostly because they are from a time that is irretrievably lost to us, but that does not mean they should be ignored or avoided.  The reason why some of us spend so much time researching family history is to rediscover the experiences of those who paved life's road ahead of us, winding through all of its mysterious peaks and valleys.  Though their time has passed, there is joy and honor to be celebrated from their journeys.

Little Girl Lost No More!

The Missing Childhood Likeness of Malla (Vigesaa) Larson

My concerted efforts as photo detective continue in the hope of teasing out the identities of more family members from unidentified stashes of the past.  The many photographic treasures that once belonged to my great grandparents, Ole Martin and Malla (Larson) Johnson and other family members, included several Victorian-era cabinet card albums and stacks of loose carte-de-visite images, as well as other assorted prints.  At first, the task of identification seemed daunting.  Some likenesses were easily recognizable, and fewer still were actually labeled on the back.  But, more often than not, a labeled photograph displayed the name of the recipient of the photograph, and not the subject--a common trap to be wary of during the photograph identification process.

I reasoned that somewhere among all of the family mementos, there had to be an image of my great grandmother, Malla (Vigesaa) Larson (1868-1948), as a young girl.  After all, she was the owner of much of the collection I have been trying to identify, and it seems unlikely that her parents would not have had an image or two taken of their youngest child at some point.  But, until recently, the earliest known photographs of Malla were taken around the time of her wedding in 1886, when she was 19 years old.  After cropping and enlarging the faces of many people among her old photograph collection, encouraged by a measure of success, I finally turned my attention to the little dark-haired girl on the carte-de-visite image shown below.  As soon as I zoomed in on the little face, I had that old familiar feeling:  "I know her!"

An unexpected find:  a photo of my great grandmother, Malla (Vigesaa) Larson, at age 5 or 6 (ca. 1874).  The original image is unlabeled except for the photographer's stamp on the verso.  A decorative frame has been added to the image for this post, which is not part of the original carte-de-visite.

What had not been apparent from the small card-like photograph became quite clear while observing the girl's face, zoomed in great detail.  I was immediately convinced that I had found the childhood photograph of my great grandmother, at last.  Everything matched:  the perfectly oval face; the large, clear blue eyes (left eye a little larger than the right); the deep brown, finely textured hair; a slight cleft in the chin (a Larson family trait); the shape of the eyebrows, nose, and ears, and more.  Even the dark, satiny dress with ruffles that she wore in the image was reminiscent of Malla's dark wedding dress with cascading ruffles down the front.  The two dresses look as if they could have been designed by the same seamstress--probably Malla's mother, Kjersten (Stroemstad) Larson.

Verso of the above photograph

I then investigated the photographers listed on the verso of the image.  Malla's family relocated from Coon Valley, Wisconsin to Chippewa County, Minnesota when Malla was a very young child, in about 1870, or shortly thereafter.  The location displayed on the photographers' stamp was a perfect match, since one of the nearest towns to the Larson farm in Chippewa County was Granite Falls.  But, when consulting the Directory of Minnesota Photographers on the Minnesota State Historical Society's website, I discovered a problem.  Olson and Steward (listed in the "Galleries and Studios" section), operated as a team in Granite Falls only between 1884-1886.  Malla was born in 1868, and the photograph of the little girl in question could not have been taken as late as 1884, when Malla would have been at least 16 years old.

Olson and Steward

Locations:
     Address: Granite Falls, Minnesota
       Dates of operation: 1884-1886
Decades Worked in Minnesota: 1880s


But, hold on!  A photo detective does not give up that easily!

Further investigation into the individual members of the Olson and Steward team led me to believe that the carte-de-visite image of the little girl was still, indeed, my great grandmother, Malla, but that the image was a copy of an earlier image.

H. L. Olson was a Norwegian-born photographer who kept his own photography studio in Granite Falls, Minnesota from 1881-1883.  In fact, the images taken of Malla during her teen years (top row in the collage below, #3 and #4), were both taken by H. L. Olson.  His business partner from 1884-1886, C. A. Steward, kept his own studio in Granite Falls during 1886-1887, and often advertized that any image could be copied cheaply.  It is my opinion that Malla's parents arranged to get a copy (or copies) of her childhood photo in time for her marriage in February 1886.  If this were the case, then the carte-de-visite image of Malla at about age 6 was taken in about 1874 by an unknown photographer, and the original image was later copied and reproduced by Olson and Steward between the years of 1884-1886.  

Even with this logical assumption, I could not rest on my laurels and say beyond a shadow of a doubt that the photo was of Malla.  I had yet to consider that Malla's eldest daughter, Cora Johnson (Moen), was very similar in appearance to her mother.  I scrutinized a known photo of Cora as a toddler and compared it to photos of her as an adult, and compared them both to the probable image of young Malla in the dark dress.  Though many facial features were the same between the two little girls, I noticed a difference in the upper lip, in particular.  Cora had the same large blue eyes as her mother, but her upper lip was more curved, much like her father's side of the family.  Cora also had no cleft in her chin, unlike Malla.  In addition, Cora was a towhead at age 2-1/2, and it is unlikely that her hair would have changed from light blonde to dark brown in just 3 or 4 years.  Adding to the evidence was Cora's birth year.  She was born to Malla Larson Johnson in 1891, several years after Olson and Steward produced the carte-de-visite image of the little girl with the short dark hair.

Cora Johnson (Malla's eldest daughter), age 2-1/2.

Close-up of Malla Larson as a little girl, ca. 1874.

Cora Johnson Moen, at about age 40.

I was only completely satisfied that I had made the correct determinations after creating cropped close-ups of positively identified images of Malla from her adulthood, and then pairing them with cropped close-ups of "newly discovered' images taken during her early years.  The results are evident in the collage below, which shows Malla's development from about age 5 or 6 through her early forties, as the mother of ten healthy children.

Little Malla has been accounted for.  I hope that my many Johnson and Larson cousins will be as thrilled as I am!

(Click on photographs to enlarge).  This photo collage is of Malla (Larson) Johnson from childhood to middle age.  The bottom row of cropped facial shots are from positively-identified images of Malla that have been passed down through family members.  The top row consists of photos that I have recently identified as Malla from unmarked photographs collected through various family sources.  TOP ROW (left to right):  1) Malla Larson at age 5 or 6, Granite Falls, MN; 2) From a tin type photograph in a Johnson family album, ca. 1882; 3 & 4) Carte-de-visite photos taken at about the same age in Granite Falls, MN--note that she is wearing the same dress in both photos, but with different hairstyles, ca. 1881-83.  BOTTOM ROW (left to right):  5) Cropped image from Malla's marriage certificate with Ole M. Johnson in 1886; 6) Cropped image from wedding photograph with Ole M. Johnson in 1886; 7) Cropped image from Johnson family portrait, ca. 1907, Fosston, MN; 8) Cropped image from Johnson family portrait, ca. 1910, Fosston, MN. 

Family Bonds--Fast Forwarding the Years

Getting together with my first cousins in August reminded me of how quickly time passes, leaving memories a bit faded, but the impressions as vivid as ever.  We shared a few precious visits together during our youngest years, and they were very bonding experiences.  One visit occurred when I was about two and a half years old.  Dad drove me down to Campbell, California from our home in Richmond so that I could stay with my mother's sister, Phyllis Rice, while Mom was in the hospital for a routine procedure.

Although I do not remember the exact event, my cousin Cheryl tells me that before Dad even left to go back home, Cheryl and I managed to get into a jar of Vaseline and experimented with it as beauty cream and hair gel.  She chided me that while Dad took me immediately to the bathtub to scrub the sticky grease out of my hair, she was left to deal with her own unfortunate circumstances.  Being the only girl in a family with two boys, she was often expected to be a tad more responsible than her years.  She probably also had to look out for me after Dad's departure, being the elder of us two girls.  Ah, the unfairness of childhood.  And, we were off to such a fine start with the Vaseline incident!  I'm sure that Dad drove away wondering if Aunt Phyllis would ever want to babysit me again.



"Our Gang" in 1956

Three siblings and a first cousin at the Rice home in Campbell, California, 1956.  Left to right:  Curtis Rice, Chery Wheeler (me), Craig Rice, and Cheryl Rice.  Cheryl and I are wearing matching dresses with multi-colored pockets, made for us by my mom.

My cousins and I had a grand time during those visits in Campbell.  I have always felt sorry that my sister was born a few years too late to be a part of it all.  We were all about the same age, with Craig born the same year as me, Cheryl one year older, and Curtis, the eldest, was two years older.  We often resembled a step ladder while standing all together.  I was a little frightened and lonely after Dad drove off and left me behind for that first stay of about a week.  Being so young, I did not understand what had probably been explained to me quite thoroughly, about staying with my aunt and cousins for a short period of time until my parents could return for me.

That visit at age 2-something is the first real memory I have of my aunt and cousins, though they were familiar to me at the time from our earlier get-togethers in Richmond, where my parents lived and where my Aunt Phyllis lived before moving to Hanford, and then Campbell.  After allowing myself to mope a little about being left behind, I set about to have some fun with my cousins.  We spent hours tearing around as Cowboys and Indians, and climbed on the dead tree trunk in the yard.  We scrounged for prune plums through and over the fence of a nearby orchard, and hunted polliwogs, caterpillars, and other unsuspecting creatures.  We caught glimpses of shows like "Annie Oakley" and "Tugboat Annie" on my aunt's console television while waiting to get our hair washed in the huge laundry room sink.  At meal times, I admired the multi-colored octagonal Fiesta ware plates that my food was served on.  I was just starting to get used to the idea of hanging out with my cousins when my parents returned to take me home again.


"Our Gang" in 2013

Three siblings and a first cousin at the wedding of Matthew and Chelsea (Johnson) Rice in Aurora, Oregon, August 17, 2013.  Left to right:  Curtis Rice, Chery (Wheeler) Kinnick, Cheryl (Rice) Nibler, and Craig Rice (father of the groom). Although it was not planned, Cheryl and I are again wearing clothes with  a similar pattern and colors!

I still enjoy hanging out with my cousins whenever I have the opportunity, which has not been frequent due to our inevitably busy family lives and work schedules, plus the driving distance between states.  But, we have found ourselves in each other's company a couple of times over the past several years, as our children graduate from college and settle down to married life.  Soon, those children will have children of their own, and there will be new little cousins to form bonds with each other.  The importance of extended family is sadly neglected in the increasing busy-ness of modern life.  But, I can say that whether my cousins and I are near or far from each other, it is comforting just knowing that Curtis, Cheryl, and Craig are out there, sharing some of the same childhood memories and family experiences.  I hope we will continue to have many such reunions as the years progress, though our activities and conversations are bound to be a bit more sedate than those of decades past!