Top 10 Genealogical Finds of 2019

Photo by Pierce Place

It’s been a very quiet year here and I've sort of lost my 'steam'.  But now that I've retired (yes, RETIRED!) my goal in 2020 is to spend more time researching and organizing what I learn.  Sometimes it takes me some time to sit down in front of the computer but once I do, the hours just fly by!

So as 2019 comes to a close, I’ll step back and reflect on what I’ve learned over the past year.  So in my best David Letterman voice, I bring you my annual Top 10 genealogical finds of 2019.  You can read my previous years’ discoveries here (formatting isn't working right and I don't have the patience right now to fix it).
2018 2017 2016 2015 2014 2013 2012.5 2012 2011

Number 10:  I find I enjoy writing about my own memories as much (or more) than anything so I may find myself concentrating more on that in 2020.  It was especially fun to remember our times at Family Camp which I wrote about HERE.

Number 9:  The blog prompt of Bachelor Uncle caused me to research my grandmother's cousin (once removed), Hyman Steen.  I'd read a lot about Hymie in the letters my grandmother wrote to my grandfather so it was fun to get to 'know' him better.

Number 8:  Independence Day brought the prompt INDEPENDENT which prompted (get it?) me to write about Nathan Waller, the brother of my 5x great grandfather.  Not only was Nathan documented by the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) as a Revolutionary Patriot, he has his own Wikipedia Page!

Number 7:  I love old newspapers!  There is scads (my grandmother's favorite word) of information that helps us to learn about the every day life of our ancestors.  I know that sometimes information pops up that we'd rather not know (there's a black sheep in every family) but, for the most part, it really brings our ancestors to life.  I still haven't figured out the details of the address of my 2x great grandfather's home in Santa Cruz but I haven't given up hope.  In the Paper

Number 6:  We were not a terribly religious household but the one constant we had was our Rabbi, Joseph Gitin.  I was happy to be able to share my memories of not only Rabbi Gitin, but our Temple, as well.  At Worship.

Rabbi Joseph Gitin
photo courtesy of SJ Mercury News

Number 5:  Until I wrote the post for the FIRST prompt,  I hadn't really thought about how few of us actually have our ancestors documented in the first United States Census in 1790.  I had two ancestors enumerated from my mother's line, Ashbel Waller and Daniel Martin.

Number 4:  I was fortunate to have a close relationship with both sets of grandparents.  Although now that I type that, it reminds me that I actually had three sets of grandparents so I guess it was really close relationships with two out of three.  My maternal grandmother, Clara (Fitzgerald) Martin Hunter, was always so happy to see us and seemed to love to spend time with us.  For the prompt LOVE I wrote about the 'artwork' I gave her that she saved throughout her life.

Debi Levy and Clara (Fitzgerald) Hunter, 1957
Photo bombed by unknown cowboy

Number 3:  I typically think of BRICK WALL as a person but for this prompt I thought about brick wall photographs.  Because of this, I think I may have found a photo of my 2x great grandfather, Ferdinand Gunzendorfer, from his younger days.  I know the older gentleman is Ferdinand, but is the younger man?  What do you think?

Number 2:  Something seemed OUT OF PLACE with the final resting place of my 2x great grandfather, Louis Schwartz, in Oakland, California.  While I was fortunate enough to visit his grave in person, there were several newspaper articles (see why I love newspapers?) stating that after his death, his body had been returned to Santa Cruz for burial.  I did write to the cemetery asking for specifics about his internment and the answer I received was:

Our records show that Louis Schwartz is buried in Plot 101, Grave 2 date of death May 23, 1893. Rebecca Schwartz is buried in Plot 101 Grave 1 date of death January 7, 1918 and she died in Oakland. I have no information on Mark Schwartz and do not show him as being buried in Home of Eternity. That is all the information we have sorry could not be of more help.

So that tells me that he IS interred there but doesn't help me understand if he was originally interred in Santa Cruz and then relocated to Oakland.  Unfortunately, some questions are always left unanswered.

Number 1:  I've been fortunate to have so many ancestors who lived their lives in just one or two places so there is a lot of history in those places.  Fresno was the home of MANY of my ancestors - my parents were both born and raised there and, in fact, went to high school together.  My paternal grandfather and both maternal grandparents were also born there.  (Side note: my paternal grandfather, Sig Levy, was technically born in Vallejo but his mother was just visiting from Fresno when he was born).  There is so much family history in Fresno and I have so much historical data tucked away.  Remember, my grandparents saved EVERYTHING and just about everything they saved I am now saving.  I really want to get this organized and donated to the Fresno Historical Society so that might be where I focus my time in 2020.

A few years ago I wrote about the HOME MY FATHER GREW UP IN at 1549 Echo Avenue in Fresno.  Not only do I have memories of that house, but even my oldest daughter who spent some time there, as well.  I can still visualize (my dad's word) so many details of that house.

What a surprise when I learned that Jeannine Raymond (www.jeannineraymond.com), has researched the Wilson Island Historical District in Fresno and MY GRANDPARENTS' HOME WAS ONE OF THE SHORT STORIES IN 2019.  And where do you think she got most of her information?  Yes, that's right - ME!  She actually used my original blog post on her website.  You can read it HERE.  I was so honored to have been included in this history.  (And for my family who heard Dad say "I feel like Henry Korn", you can find the story of the Korn home HERE.)

A pretty quiet year but I'm looking forward to new discoveries in 2020!

52 Ancestors: Craft

I've been out of the blogging mode for a few weeks and thus, my brain is a little foggy and out of practice so I'll start back simple this week.

I've written before about my paternal grandmother, Mildred Loraine (Gunzendorfer) Levy, being crafty.  Which as anyone who knew her can attest to, she NEVER came across as crafty and until a few years before her death, I had no idea she ever worked with her hands.  I wrote about it HERE.

Apparently, there were a few of my maternal ancestors who were crafty - my great grandmother, Mabel (McAboy) Fitzgerald and her mother, Rebecca (Waller) McAboy.  Their craft of choice was quilting!  I am always in awe when I see hand made quilts and while I don't have that gene in my body, I'm proud to be the owner of some of their quilts.

I am nearly positive that this quilt was crafted by my maternal great grandmother, Mabel Viola (McAboy) Fitzgerald.  Mabel was alive until I was almost 12 years old and I remember her quite clearly.  She was the type of grandmother children would be thrilled to know- interested in what we were doing, patient, and loving.  I can remember many a day being sick on the couch covered by this quilt.  I'm sure I knew that it was crafted by my great grandmother and could feel her arms wrapped around me, instantly making me feel better.

Handmade by Mabel Viola (McAboy) Fitzgerald

Mabel Viola (McAboy) Fitzgerald

I'm not nearly as confident but I think this was also Mabel's handiwork.

I can't imagine the endless hours spent putting these two quilts together.

The quilting gene must have been passed down to her from her mother, Rebecca Mariah (Waller) McAboy.  Rebecca was the daughter of my favorite ancestor, Emery Waller.  While I've not seen a photo of Emery, I can almost visualize (my dad's favorite expression) him when I look into Rebecca's eyes.  And thanks again to my cousin, Kris, for sharing this photo with me!

Rebecca Moriah (Waller) McAboy
c. 1920

In 2012, we cleaned out the storage unit where my parents had been storing things for 30 years, never to see the light of day.  I was amazed that these quilts were in such great condition considering they'd just been thrown into a cardboard box.  Fortunately my mother was still living and she was able to tell me "I think these were made by Mabel's mother, Rebecca".  So I have no confirmation but I just have to believe Mabel's craft gene was passed down from her mother.  Once I got the quilts home I took them to the dry cleaners and since I've had them home, I have not wanted to take them out of the plastic bags.  I know it's not the best preservation method but it's much better than a cardboard box!

I've done some crafting over the years but these days, I've all but given it up.  Sadly, the quilting gene has died in our family as none of us ever got the bug.

52 Ancestors: Rich Man

This week's blog prompt is Rich Man.  I'm sure I have plenty of rich men in my family tree but what really hit me was the memory of people always saying we were rich.  Why, you ask?  Because we grew up on RICHland Avenue.  (Come on, work with me here).

Here's the house as it is today - I can't believe I didn't take any before photos.  After my mother died, we sold it to a "flipper" group and within just a few months, it was a completely new home.  There was a limited series called "Flip it to Win It" on HGTV and they were the group who re-did the home.  It was fascinating yet so difficult to watch the transformation.

The room on the right was my bedroom.  I don't have any "after" photos but a few weeks after my mother died, I went through the house and took some photos.  Disclaimer:  please remember that my parents saved EVERYTHING and Mom had gotten to the point where she would only let the house cleaners into a few rooms - my room was not one of them!

This was not how it looked when it was my room.  After my dad's coronary bypass in 1979, he moved into this room as it was easier for him to be in a bed by himself.  So most of this was his "stuff" but I will admit that the carpet, drapes, and the dolls above the window were mine.  Yes, those were all put there in 1962 and were never changed.  Please see disclaimer above.

It was so fun to see the before and after photos - it doesn't look like the same house!

Kitchen/front door before

Kitchen/nook before

Kitchen/nook after

A few years after my brother was born, my parents decided to remodel so that they could add on a bedroom and a great room at the back of the house.  We always loved that room but what a difference after the home was flipped.

Great room before

Great room after

Look how open it is!

Even after the remodel in the early 1960's, we still had a fairly large backyard.  But boy did it look great after they finished with it!

Master bedroom on the left
Bedroom next to it was originally my room, then my brother's

The guest bathroom that the kids shared was this awful pink with grey tile.  The bathtub, toilet, sink and cabinets were pink and the tile around the tub and cabinets was grey.  I'm telling you, it was hideous.  A few years before mom died she had to have the toilet replaced due to a leak and we all told her to LOSE THE PINK TOILET.  Imagine our surprise when we visited the next time and saw the same pink toilet.  But after the flip, it looked GREAT!

NO pink!

The living and family room were separated by a fireplace.  I remember thinking it was so cool to be on one side of the fire place and be able to look into the adjoining room.

Here's the living room.
The portrait is my grandfather and his two older brothers and hangs on my wall now

And then it was opened up to be a dining room and sitting room.

The mirror hangs where the portrait was

The master bedroom was pretty small but it sure looks great now!

One of my favorite memories of the house was the stone that was in the entry inside the front door.  Two girls with vivid imaginations used to spend many hours playing hopscotch here.  Can you see it?

While I love seeing the after photos, I will never forget what that house used to look like.  My parents moved there in 1957 and mom lived there until her death in 2013 - there are so many memories that will be etched in my brain forever.  It may be just a house to some, but for us it was a HOME.

52 Ancestors: Transportation

This week's blog prompt is Transportation.  I've already written a few times about transportation - Machines and Roadsters and Cars, oh my!  and Cruising so I wanted to focus on something different.  While some might have been obsessed with cars, planes, or trains, what little girl wasn't obsessed with HORSES?

We started with one horse, Smokey Joe.  I think we got him in the summer of 1964, shortly before my 10th birthday.  I don't remember how or why my parents finally let us take the plunge but boy were we excited to bring this mellow guy into our lives.  I think he was about 3 years old (or maybe 5?) and for whatever reason, I seem to remember my parents paid $300 for him.  His former owner was about 15 or so and while she loved Smokey, she wanted to move on to a different horse that she could train herself.  We kept Smokey at the same stable so she was fortunate enough to be able to see him and watch his progress with two new owners.

Me, Sister, Little Brother with Smokey Joe
c. 1964

It didn't take long for our parents to figure out that two girls obsessed with horses couldn't really share a horse so we were quickly on the lookout for another one.  I don't remember any specifics of bringing Snapshot (nee Snip) into our family but there he was!

Snapshot AKA Snap

Boy did we have fun with those horses.  Mom and/or Dad would drive us (about 20 minutes, I think) out to the ranch in the morning and we'd spend the day until someone would arrive back to take us home.  There were many kids with horses so there was always someone to "pal" around with.  Three are etched in my mind - Sue (who was Smokey's former owner) and her horse, Cleo; Rick, and his horse, Cy; and Kathy and her horse.....darn, I can't remember the name although I can see him/her clearly in my mind.  Oh wait, I found some pictures.

Sister, Snap, Kathy, and, and, and....

Sue and Cleo

It didn't take long before we got involved in 4H and showing our horses.  While there was one show arena we could actually ride over the hill to get to, Dad was a good sport and actually drove us to some shows.  We didn't own a truck or horse trailer so we must have borrowed those or, at times, someone let us add our horses to their trailer.

All dressed up and ready to go!

I always loved having Smokey decked out with a blue saddle blanket and a matching rider - sure made his grey dapples standout.

I have a few favorite memories of showing these two - one which involves another form of transportation, the horse trailer.  Snap was not easy to get into the trailer and it always involved a lot of coaxing, crossed fingers and prayer.  Smokey, on the other hand, loved to get into a trailer - we'd throw the lead rope over his neck, give him a little nudge, and into the trailer he went.  Good boy!  Although I'm not sure the owner of the neighboring horse trailer was too happy with him when without any coaxing, he decided the grain inside the trailer must taste mighty fine so he loaded himself in and started munching away.

Snap and sister were very successful at the shows and garnered many ribbons and trophies.

First place trophy!

I didn't excel in the award department but boy did I have fun!  The highlight of my career, though, was my first place trophy in Showmanship.  What a thrill!  And because my number that day was 99, it led to my favorite number from that point forward being 9.

My one and only first place trophy - I still have it!

At some point, even little brother joined in the fun.  I have zero memory of this but he must have been called into action once sister went away to college so Snap could get some exercise.

Look at those cuties!

And look at that, Mom even took a turn.  But what's with Smokey wearing a hat???

Dad, too, got into the act.  Wait - WHAT????

Now THAT'S a different breed of horse!

I sure have some wonderful memories of my years with Smokey - the way he could eat an entire apricot and spit out the pit, the way he would come running when he heard me knock on his stall door, or the hours I'd sit on him backwards resting my book on his rump while I read.  We had a few not-so-good memories, too - the worst being the time my sister's friend fell off Smokey and broke her shoulder.  Thankfully, she healed up fine and the friendship between the families didn't go south.

As time went on and two young girls became interested in other things (college, cars, and boys), riding those horses became arduous and we decided it was time to give someone else the joy of owning a horse.  I don't remember what happened to Snap but I remember vividly making the "deal" for Smokey to head south for someone else to love on.  I remember once a few years later taking a drive by where he moved to, not sure if I was wishing I would see him or hoping I wouldn't (I didn't).

Sure, I had other forms of transportation over the years like cars, boats, trains, planes, and roller skates, there has never been any other form of transportation that brought me so many hours of joy.

Me and Smokey Joe
AKA Smoke-alot-of-cigarettes

52 Ancestors: Harvest

This weeks' blog prompt is HARVEST.   Hmm, while I'm sure that I had a few farming ancestors I really don't know too many specifics about what they farmed and, ultimately, harvested.  The only harvesting that came to my mind was my maternal grandmother and her husband, my step-grandfather, harvesting eggs.  I've written about that before but it's been a long time so I'll take the challenge one more time.

Clara (Fitzgerald) and Shell Hunter

Based on this newspaper article, they bought their property in late 1956 or early 1957.  In an instant, they were chicken farmers!

Fresno Bee, September 27, 1959

Retired Telegrapher Finds Poultry Flock Demands Work

When Sheldon A Hunter of 2341 West Olive Avenue, Fresno, retired in 1955 as manager of the Fresno office of Western Union, he recalls he did not know the difference between a laying hen and a bantam chicken.

Today the grey haired Hunter is the knowledgeable owner and operator of a 2,000 bird egg laying flock, who maintains he "never worked harder, made less or felt better."

Hunter and his charming wife, Clara, bought the one acre layout two and a half years ago when it included only 600 hens  They have expanded cautiously and only recently constructed a new cement floored laying house featuring the latest in wire cage operation.

Hunter, whose Western Union career covered 47 years, including 35 years in Fresno, credits feed company salesmen and breeder representatives with a big hand in helping him learn the poultry business.

"We thought this would be an interesting part time occupation," Hunter grins, "but we find there is always something to do, repair or change.  And these birds need a lot of care.  But we like the idea of keeping busy."

Meet Their Customers

Since all the Hunter eggs are sold directly from the small combination garage and egg processing room, the retired couple enjoy meeting people who stop to purchase the eggs.

Mrs. Hunter chuckles as she recalls a visit by a 10 year old neighbor girl.

"She wanted to borrow three eggs because her mother was baking a cake and didn't have enough," she says.  "But she assured me she would soon return them because her mother was going downtown and would buy some there."

Have Fruit Trees

Along with the modest sized poultry setup, the Hunters are proud of their variety of fruit trees, ranging from figs to persimmons, a vegetable garden and boysenberry vines.

While the Hunter operation ranks quite small as compared to some of Fresno County's sprawling commercial laying establishments, the owners keep abreast of the latest breeding developments.  They are grooming a new experimental White Leghorn strain obtained from Washington State which is said to lay larger eggs for specialized poultrymen, who have a market for them.

I even have the photo they included in the article in my collection (thank you, non-packrat Grandma!)

Sheldon Hunter, 1959

NEW OCCUPATION - Sheldon Hunter, a retired Fresno telegrapher, has found that "wire" means more than a telegram.  Here Hunter inspects his recently constructed wire cage house for his West Olive Avenue flock of white Leghorn layers.  Bee Photos.

I remember so much about the operation but some things from this article stick out in my mind.

Most of the operation was run from the garage.  Here we helped to clean and package the eggs.  Look at all the egg cartons!  My favorite part was weighing the eggs and then putting them in the appropriate carton - small, medium, large, extra large, and jumbo.  If we were really lucky, we'd get a "pee wee" egg which we loved to take to school for show and tell.  The weighing machine would have been behind the big stack of eggs above my head.

Sister, Grandpa Shell, Me
c. 1959-1960

Even little brother got into the act once he joined the family.  So many egg cartons!

Brother, Grandpa Shell
c. 1963-1964

Grandma spent a lot of time in the processing room candling the eggs to ensure that the eggs didn't have blood in them.

Clara (Fitzgerald) Hunter

The lights were turned down as Grandma put each egg into the lit container in order to see shadows of what was inside.  Then she’d turned it over and put the other end in and repeat the process.  This was a very delicate procedure and one we weren’t allowed to help with.  But while she was doing that, we’d sit at a table with baskets of eggs and one by one we’d clean them, careful not to break them.  And before the automatic egg scale, we'd put them on a manual scale and estimate their size.

Sister, Me, Grandpa Shell cleaning and weighing eggs

But before any of this could happen, we'd collect the eggs.  Even when the chickens were locked in those new wire cage houses, it was a bit overwhelming for young girls to be in there with SO. MANY. CHICKENS.  And while I realize the wire cage house wasn't something you'd see today and would probably cause a visit from animal rights activists, it did make it much easier to just walk by and pick up the eggs.

We were ready for this important job!

There were also areas that were like a big stall where the hens would all run loose.  I don’t remember collecting eggs in there so they must have been the young chickens who weren’t producing yet.  I didn’t really like going in there as those birds would run around and sometimes even fly at you.

I'm surprised that the farm was only 1 acre - it seemed so much larger to me.  Maybe their cautious expansion included buying some adjoining property?  I also don't remember fruit trees, a vegetable garden, or boysenberry vines.  There might have been a fruit tree here and there but I don't remember too many.  What I DO remember is a fish pond with abalone shells as the top layer of the sides of the pond - so pretty.  I think there were fish in there but I don't remember specifics.

I know these chickens were a lot of work.  When we’d be visiting, Grandma and Grandpa would have someone (normally Grandma's mother, Mabel (McAboy) Fitzgerald) come to the house to “chicken sit” if they wanted to go out to dinner with us.  And traveling even for one night was next to impossible for them.   I will always remember Grandma sitting in the warm Fresno sunshine, cleaning eggs while listening to her beloved San Francisco Giants on the radio.

Not your 'normal' harvesting but boy did we have fun helping harvest eggs!

52 Ancestors: Cousins

Nothing like a blog prompt sending me farther down a rabbit hole!

As you may (or may not) remember, my interest in genealogy began about a decade ago when my mom threw out the challenge that there were no more Gunzendorfers in the United States.  And that was my first post on this blog nearly 9 years ago.  My first post.  And, it turns out, my mom was right.  Who knew?

As I've researched and blogged, I've "met" many distant cousins from both sides of my family.  For someone with only one first cousin, it's been quite an adventure and so exciting each time I connect with someone.  And while I'd love to write about each and every one of them, in the interest of privacy I'm going to refrain from doing that.  But to those cousins who are reading my blog, it's been GREAT getting to know you!

My Gunzendorfer family has been a bit of a mystery to me.  I can document back to my 2x great grandparents but since they came from Germany or Poland, I've not gotten past the first of my California born ancestors, Abraham Gunzendorfer (1869-1944).  I've learned a lot about this branch of my family but something was always nagging me - the Gunzendorfer family who lived in New York.  Could they be related?  My gut tells me they are but I can't definitively prove that.

Here's some facts leading me to that conclusion:

In my grandmother's (Loraine Gunzendorfer) letters to my grandfather, she wrote on 28 November 1918:  "Dad has a cousin in N.Y. who has a daughter my age and whose name is similar to mine, Lenore.  They were at Del Monte nine years ago when I met her.  We later corresponded for some time but the last few years lost track of each other.  Yesterday we received a letter telling of her engagement.  Funny, isn’t it?  Now I’ll have to write to her to inform her of mine."

I know that Lenore Gunzendorfer was married to Leonard Oppenheimer on 17 June 1919, so it would make sense that she would have written about it in late 1918.  And my grandparents were married on 23 February 1919 so that checks out, too.

Dad's cousin.  Okay, if there was a cousin in New York their fathers could have been brothers, right?  And if their fathers were brothers, their names would both have been Gunzendorfer.

Lenore's father was named Adolph Gunzendorfer.  Abraham's brother was named Adolph.  Wouldn't it make sense that he was named for his uncle who lived on the other side of the country in New York?

I've learned through NY Adolph's passport application that his father's name was Bernard (or Bernhard).

I'm hypothesizing that my 2x great grandfather, Ferdinand, was the brother of Bernard.  That would make their sons, Adolph and Abraham, first cousins.  And their children, Lenore and Loraine, would have been 2nd cousins.  Loraine was born 22 January 1896, Lenore was born 13 October 1896.  "Daughter my age."  Check.

Lenore Gunzendorfer
Barnard College Yearbook, New York, 1917

Look at that - she attended Barnard College!

And here is my grandmother at about the same age.  Is it just me or do they resemble each other?

Loraine Guzendorfer,
Monterey High School Yearbook, 1915

I don't know, maybe it's just the hairstyle which I'm sure was quite popular in that time period.

Maybe I'm just wishing to put the it all together but there are just too many pieces of the puzzle that seem to be falling into place.  

And I won't even go into another Ferdinand Gunzendorfer who was in Stockton at about this time.  And on 30 September, 1917 my grandmother wrote:  "Dr. Franklin is very nice and a funny thing – my father’s cousin in Stockton is a very good friend of his."  So there's a cousin named Ferdinand?  How many Ferdinand Gunzendorfer's could there be?  I have not found any evidence of Ferdinand being Bernard's son but could that be possible?

And then today, a new clue emerged.  As I was searching on Ancestry for all things Bernard Gunzendorfer I ran across something very, very interesting.  I had always known that my great grandfather's middle initial was B but I hadn't been able to determine just what the B stood for.  He was always Abraham B Gunzendorfer or even A.B. Gunzendorfer.  

So what popped up today?  The 1902 California Voter's Registration from San Francisco.

California Voter's Registration, San Francisco, 1902

I know, I know - it's hard to read.  So I cropped it and enlarged it.

HIS MIDDLE NAME WAS BERNARD!!!!

Okay, it could just be a coincidence but there are way too many coincidences now to ignore all of this!

I know this is very confusing for anyone other than me - heck, it confuses me!  I have A LOT more research to do but I'm glad to have put my thoughts down so I can go farther.

Now I hope I can sleep tonight - if not, I'll count Gunzendorfers instead of sheep!

52 Ancestors: School Days

Sometimes it's good to take a step back, forget the ancestors for a moment, and concentrate on ME!  So for this blog prompt I'm focusing on my school days - at least what I can remember or have evidence of.  Hey, it's my blog so I can do whatever I want.

Looks like homework (but it's not)
November 28, 1961

I don't have too many specific memories of my early school days but I do remember what teachers I had.  As a kid who moved to a different elementary school almost annually due to a special program I was in, going to a new school with a new teacher is etched pretty vividly in my mind.

Kindergarten was at Schallenberger Elementary, the neighborhood school.  It was around the corner from our house but I don't remember if I walked alone, with Mom, or with big sister.  The day I took this photo (2013) I was all alone as I took a walk through the neighborhood.

Thankfully I have the pack rat gene so I've saved all of my class photos.  So here we are - Mrs. Seery's p.m. class.  All I really remember about this year was laying out our mats on the floor so we could take a nap.  I don't, however, remember if I actually slept or not.  I'm in the back row (might have been the only time I'm in the back), second from left.  There's still a few of these kids that I'm in touch with today.

For 1st grade, I continued on at Schallenberger where my teacher was Mrs. Woolman.  No laughing allowed when you see me in the 2nd row from the top, far right.  What in the WORLD was I thinking with that hair?????

A couple of memories from this year.  First and foremost, my brother was born in November, 1961.  I remember sitting on the little step outside the classroom having lunch when I spotted my dad walking across the playground.  Of course I knew Mom had gone to the hospital the night before to give birth (we spent the night next door) so I was pretty sure what he was coming to tell me.  Please be a girl, please be a girl.  He got closer and closer and I could see a big smile on his face.  And as he approached he said "Debbie (I wasn't Debi yet), you have a baby brother".  What?  I'll leave it at that (my brother knows the story) but I ended up being ever so happy that it was, in fact, a boy.

The other memory was the fact that this was a split class - I was with about half the class in the first grade, the other half was in the second grade.  In California in those days, the deadline to start school was December 2 and my birthday was December 14 so I just missed the cutoff to start school as a 5 year old.  Here I was in a class with 2nd graders and I wanted to do what THEY were doing, not what the first graders were doing.  So midway through the year the school (teacher? principal?) asked my parents if maybe I should skip ahead to second grade since I was more interested in what they were doing.  We talked about it for awhile and I was only too eager to move ahead.  So, I finished first and second grades in one year.  One of my friends and neighbors, John Q., always teased me that I skipped ahead because I knew the big words like THE.

On to third grade where, once again, I was at Schallenberger with Mrs. Mackey.  My most vivid memory of that year was learning to write in cursive - do they even teach that anymore?

And down to the bottom row I go.  That's me, second from right.  There's still some of these kids I'm in contact with today.  Unfortunately, my best friend from that year, Barbara (2nd row from the top, 2nd from right) moved away and I lost contact with her then.

Fourth grade brought quite a change in our household.  My sister and I were both accepted into the Able Learners program (what a stupid name) but they didn't want us in the same class.  So while I went to Willow Glen (which is where I was when JFK was killed), big sister was at Lincoln Glen.  WG was too far to walk so I'm sure Mom drove but I don't remember any of that.  I do, however, remember my teacher, Mr. Fix.

Mr. Fix was quite a character.  The only real memory I have (other than JFK's assassination) is Mr. Fix telling me my last name couldn't be pronounced Leave-y.  I told him yes it could because THAT WAS MY NAME.  He teased that I could either be Debbie Leh-vy or Deebie Leave-y.  And to this day I've never forgotten that.  There I am, bottom row (even when sitting), far left.  And I guess Barbara went to WG with me because there she is in the Girl Scout uniform.

It was time to move again for 5th grade.  Since Lincoln Glen, where my sister went, was closer to home and she had moved on to Junior High, it was decided that I should move to Lincoln Glen.  To this day I wonder why they just didn't start me in LG for two years and have my sister go to WG for her one year.  It was close enough to home (maybe 2 miles) that I could ride my bike on occasion.

Front row again - 2nd from right.  A few from this class I'm still in touch with.  Unfortunately, my dear friend, Pete, (2nd row, far right) left us years ago.  We were friends all through school and even went to college together.

Back to Schallenberger for 6th grade as an Able Learner program started at Schallenberger.  As I took my walk years ago, I snapped a photo of the classroom where our 6th grade was located - that's it on the left.  How is it that I can't remember what I had for dinner last night (okay, it was chicken) but I can remember where my classroom was more than 50 years ago?

And here's the class photo.  Look at that, I'm not in the bottom row.  I'm right next to Mrs. Long.  And I see another friend who has also passed away, Ken S. who is in the top row, 2nd from the left.

As I was preparing for this post I dug out a box of school mementos my parents saved (of course they did) all these years.  I remember dragging the box out of the storeroom as we cleaned out our childhood home but didn't really go through it until today.  Look at all the reports I did!

I did find a lone report card - where did the rest of those go? - but I'll refrain from sharing it.  I guess my good grades didn't really start until my junior high/high school years.

One memory I have is making these folders in 5th grade.  Somehow we made a stamp, decorated some paper, and then made a folder out of it.  Pretty creative way to incorporate art and other curriculum.

And for those who are convinced my memory is completely shot, I remembered all of my teachers' names without looking!

Somewhere I'm sure my individual class photos are floating around - I'll blog about those once I unearth them.