tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39308992642495499642024-02-19T18:36:11.559-08:00Who Knew?Who knew I'd be interested in this stuff?Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.comBlogger443125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-77058331258024454312022-03-06T14:26:00.000-08:002022-03-06T14:26:08.553-08:00I'M IN!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvUoJtJg-LtfdVSb1TLw4Q30MO-Bt6Xpw44_A2O-sD9bo7xukGJqkzLzDXjfvt72XNvjboUfNu7NM4z8ujMSSp6fimy8BXW64jIVtSSWd-ajv1W3lyAtQDbxw67zVWydO4sc-ffEtaKpkG7K915QhBEFzrLBVtj7ZrsG-_FFDd0vcE847MvicykaPU=s316" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="316" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvUoJtJg-LtfdVSb1TLw4Q30MO-Bt6Xpw44_A2O-sD9bo7xukGJqkzLzDXjfvt72XNvjboUfNu7NM4z8ujMSSp6fimy8BXW64jIVtSSWd-ajv1W3lyAtQDbxw67zVWydO4sc-ffEtaKpkG7K915QhBEFzrLBVtj7ZrsG-_FFDd0vcE847MvicykaPU=w400-h192" width="400" /></a></div>Late last year I wrote about the <i>FUTURE</i> and that it might include my membership into DAR through my 5x great grandfather, Ashbel Waller. You can read about it <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/12/52-ancestors-future-daughters-of.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>. <p></p><p>And now, just two short months later, it is OFFICIAL - I am a member of Daughters of the American Revolution! </p><p>Wendy made it happen and kept me informed along the way. She notified me on February 10 that my application had been verified and that I would receive my national number on March 5. And just like that, yesterday I received the golden number confirming without a doubt that <span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">I'M IN! </span><span>Which means</span><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"> HE'S IN!</span></p><p>Ashbel is a newly recognized patriot and I am honored to have had a part in recognizing him. And just to make it completely official, here is Ashbel's entry.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhomkQ0TK-DQxqmDm-N7ku_3JczWrPK-nIVCw5kfvwySydC-LaGyvCL0U1Y2wJ-prucF7co8BlTkw9UV6rIajx8ppRPSyhnzoJT5CUZGqsNS488Tb7eprXIwagF0UoTnJk1NduexHWrFSmyYisE6htUr1wLyatbrO8TfDbSihGsKC8_Iy-vZc0iimbo=s1168" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="1168" height="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhomkQ0TK-DQxqmDm-N7ku_3JczWrPK-nIVCw5kfvwySydC-LaGyvCL0U1Y2wJ-prucF7co8BlTkw9UV6rIajx8ppRPSyhnzoJT5CUZGqsNS488Tb7eprXIwagF0UoTnJk1NduexHWrFSmyYisE6htUr1wLyatbrO8TfDbSihGsKC8_Iy-vZc0iimbo=w608-h405" width="608" /></a></div><div> </div>A very belated thank you to, Ashbel Waller, my 5x great grandfather, for his service. And a special thank you to Wendy for helping me to honor Ashbel.<br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-67313687043229956102022-02-13T15:28:00.004-08:002022-02-28T10:29:26.640-08:0052 Ancestors: Map - Ashbel Waller's Grave<p>This week's blog prompt immediately brought to mind a map I received years ago from the Butler County Historical Society.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggHzip8flT-CxEpVcR2HoLsIj0NfJtSBiuz7zx-Z5I_b8N8dIeHKJkh5HiEnojUKwJxj1v89AOp2-Lva3jp89oIawrUYn4JvQqeNFSFr_JBQuBgueKmhah2NLhASpEeNe2SZfJmGskaD_SHCLXcXHimirELMohU-8yty_iewzgP0nrB2PbglI6hWqm=s3312" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2512" data-original-width="3312" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggHzip8flT-CxEpVcR2HoLsIj0NfJtSBiuz7zx-Z5I_b8N8dIeHKJkh5HiEnojUKwJxj1v89AOp2-Lva3jp89oIawrUYn4JvQqeNFSFr_JBQuBgueKmhah2NLhASpEeNe2SZfJmGskaD_SHCLXcXHimirELMohU-8yty_iewzgP0nrB2PbglI6hWqm=w640-h486" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>In my inquiry to them about the location of Ashbel Waller's grave (Ashbel is my 5th great grandfather), they forwarded this map to me. But what does it mean?</p><p>In 1985, there was an encroaching sub-division to this area of town so some studies were performed to learn more about the property. "D.E.M.", a member of the National Genealogical Society, sent a letter to the Butler County Commissioner with the subject "Gravestones with the partial name ELIZABETH WALLE? and the surname CONGER in Knottingwood subdivision, Section 6 of Union Township on Hamilton-Mason Road." D.E.M. explained to me that Union Township is now known as West Chester Township.</p><p>There is a lot of information in the letter but the most important when it comes to Ashbel is the first bullet point:</p><p><i>As you knew yesterday, last fall in the 1840 census I noted that ASHABEL WALLER was listed as having performed revolutionary or military services and then an ASHBEL WALLER was shown on the 1830 cadastral map that you copied to have been the owner of about 101 acres in the northeast corner of Section 6 adjoining Liberty Township. Later, I visited the graveyard and believe that its site is at or near the b in the name Ashbel Waller as printed on the map. Today it can be described as about 0.4 miles eastward from Route 747 along Hamilton-Mason Road thence about 0.2 miles southward parallel to the meridional section line.</i></p><p>So in order to understand this better, I zoomed in on the b in the name Ashbel Waller.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2RVQzQrXJcFnTrIR_GR7cx4ZZ0Pmp4kWhQBxUd8XKobXk6TjiTYg4FDJnyVSs7zHMk17NRQFc_X_2deXszbLqFPBlbLyL9PSLAz79EMx7472oL97zqNqxtKMMDIn-nOExTUdALAPw-Nfe5p0sZiTILhlhQ1akxY7VcaGJC0dCft63NvQIlUJd_6vy=s631" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="573" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2RVQzQrXJcFnTrIR_GR7cx4ZZ0Pmp4kWhQBxUd8XKobXk6TjiTYg4FDJnyVSs7zHMk17NRQFc_X_2deXszbLqFPBlbLyL9PSLAz79EMx7472oL97zqNqxtKMMDIn-nOExTUdALAPw-Nfe5p0sZiTILhlhQ1akxY7VcaGJC0dCft63NvQIlUJd_6vy=w364-h400" width="364" /></a></div><br /><p>Does that mean he is buried on the land he owned in Butler County? Looks like it to me. Interesting to note that Cyrus Osborn was his son-in-law, married to Ashbel's daughter Ruth, and the Executor of Ashbel's will.</p><p>I've sent inquiries to other organizations and have been unable to find a definitive grave site or any photos. I need to spend some time learning more about maps so I can understand exactly what this means. One more thing to add to my to-do list.</p><p>In other news, stay tuned for more information about Ashbel and his service in the Revolution.</p>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-57643336326357463992022-01-30T15:28:00.014-08:002022-01-30T15:45:21.104-08:0052 Ancestors: Curious - The Grumer girls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPPi2mHnDRB5T6wboUHotBFEZOc49KQu3oT1K-9m-DZ4yALs8TgBvC99K_HOrJUc4UOZ9wSgIyCAOxGFYfczUS1RkCIRT-F5Z2PZZdo-4Wt-rwpPBQYAwKv2UqqG6_04_hqgpjcan_r_PneRmgE-LVH0HSJKxzfdmfyc-3AEa69noEwxO8R1sZF_uB=s1600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1186" data-original-width="1600" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPPi2mHnDRB5T6wboUHotBFEZOc49KQu3oT1K-9m-DZ4yALs8TgBvC99K_HOrJUc4UOZ9wSgIyCAOxGFYfczUS1RkCIRT-F5Z2PZZdo-4Wt-rwpPBQYAwKv2UqqG6_04_hqgpjcan_r_PneRmgE-LVH0HSJKxzfdmfyc-3AEa69noEwxO8R1sZF_uB=w400-h296" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>photo by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/valeriebb/3006348550/in/photolist-5zEjFG-2kacgGC-qCV4XD-2uKyU-ma5qG-ufHHZ-eHVwzp-eHVnx2-21xHu-c3i6Pw-8DTxQT-eJ2LLW-eJ2MNY-eJ2wkS-65J5RS-c71477-6d4YVE-qJ8iU-v6AVH-91W9FR-4JGRCo-Hi1Bun-7cps6Y-7yxgKj-5qHXLc-7PNsDJ-2fioag5-9VGwmw-6f9gAB-5tJpn1-6kvigN-4eCRRZ-QPh47C-a1TH9i-9o5yon-6pnmr8-5dBTc7-8k8pgk-4tS9o9-2mmhhFp-4uwaeU-C7u8Lq-4WZXCr-7ZhRAw-8RViG5-CLYx-7KFqnJ-xbBDw-4fGvpH-2gvJoq" target="_blank">Valerie Everett</a></i></div></i><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>I've written before about the <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/03/52-ancestors-multiples-mystery-of-twins.html" target="_blank">Grumer girls</a>, one of which was my husband's grandmother, Pearl (Grumer) Byrd. My mother-in-law always thought the girls had been adopted by their step father, Frank Grumer, but I've never been able to find out much information about that.</p><p>Their mother, Mary Nelson, has been a bit of a mystery to me. I knew that she was born in Sweden in about 1872 or 1873 but until her marriage to Charles Pickett on 20 September 1892 I had no information about her. My friend in Sweden has looked for records for her in Sweden but has been unsuccessful.</p><p>Mary's first children, Pearl and her twin Ruth, were born 1 April 1894 in Rock Springs, Wyoming and two years later, on 10 October, 1896, their sister Bertha was born about 18 miles away in Green River, Wyoming. Neither my husband or I ever remember hearing about Bertha - my mother-in-law seemed to know very little about her family, although she did stay in contact with Ruth and her family. Although I can find no information for Charles Pickett other than his 1892 marriage to Mary, I know that on 24 May 1897 Mary married Frank Grumer.</p><p>We've always been curious as to who the biological father of the girls was and if they were, in fact, adopted by Frank Grumer. I've made some inquiries in Wyoming and have found that they did not have birth records from that time period and adoption records are restricted to just the person of record. Dead end.</p><p>But something <i>curious </i>happened this week. I've been pondering what 'curious' event I might blog about when I received a suggested edit on FindAGrave for Frank Grumer.</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><i>Green River Star, Mar 28,
1941</i></b></p><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><i>Funeral Services for Local
Pioneer Held in Evanston</i></b><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>Funeral services were held at
10 o’clock Thursday morning from the Durnford Mortuary, Evanston, for Frank
Grumer, 79, pioneer resident of Green River who died Tuesday afternoon in
Evanston.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Death was attributed to pneumonia.</i><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>Born April 15, 1862, in Baden,
Germany, Grumer came to the United States when he was 15 years old, first
settling in St. Louis, Mo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1888 he
moved west to Green River where he had since made his home.</i></p><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>Surviving Grumer are three
daughters, Mrs. J.H. Offield of Green River, with whom he had been making his
home; Mrs. J.E. LaRoche of Vallejo, Calif., and Mrs. M.B. Byrd, Winnemucca,
Nev.; one granddaughter, Mrs. Jack Lambert of Salt Lake City; and two great-grandchildren.</i></p><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>Mr. and Mrs. Offield left Green
River early Thursday morning for Evanston to attend funeral services. Burial was in Mount Olivet cemetery in Salt
Lake City, beside his wife who died in 1926.</i></p><p></p></blockquote><p>
Looks like a fairly typical obituary, right? I read it, checked off the people in my head (Mrs. Offield was Bertha, Mrs. LaRoche was Ruth, and Mrs. Byrd was Pearl, my husband's grandmother), and put it aside. </p><p>But WAIT! I looked at it again (why does it sometimes take us extra time for something to register?) and focused on "one granddaughter, Mrs. Jack Lambert of Salt Lake City; and two great-grandchildren". That information is true but it was the information that <i>wasn't</i> there that had my head spinning. This was 1941 and my mother-in-law was born in 1921 and her four cousins (Ruth's children) were born in 1917, 1919, 1920, and 1921. So why weren't they included?</p><p>In the last few days I've connected with the person who sent me the obituary to include on Frank's memorial and she's been a HUGE help in trying to sort this out. I've learned more about Mary (she had eight siblings), the names of her parents, and from her obituary learned that she came to this country at just three years old. So down the rabbit hole I go.</p><p>I'm speculating that Charles Pickett was the biological father of Pearl and Ruth and, perhaps, Frank was the biological father of Bertha. And maybe, just maybe, he didn't 'recognize' the children of Pearl and Ruth as his grandchildren. It's just so <i>curious </i>that one grandchild was mentioned while five were not.</p><p>This afternoon I've been in contact with the church in Salt Lake City where Charles and Mary were married to see if, maybe, they might have marriage records that might help. And on the off chance the twins were born in Salt Lake (maybe they were just told Wyoming so that the 'secret' of their father could be maintained) they might have some baptismal records. And just as I wrote that sentence, I received a message from the church that they would see what they could find.</p><p>Interesting to note that on Mary's death certificate Frank (the informant) listed her birthdate, name and birthplace of father and mother as ?, Pearl's death certificate shows her father as unknown, and Ruth's death certificate shows her father as Frank Grumer. I don't have Bertha's death certificate but in the SS Applications and Claims Index she lists her father as Frank Grumer.</p><p>And that's what has my attention today.</p><p><br /></p>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-44660954733430402942022-01-23T15:35:00.001-08:002022-01-23T15:35:47.788-08:0052 Ancestors: Favorite Photo - My Grandmothers<p>This past week were the birthdays of my grandmothers so with this week's blog prompt, I thought I'd highlight both of them in photos. </p><p><b><u>Mildred Loraine (Gunzendorfer) Levy</u></b></p><p>Grandma Loraine (never Mildred), my paternal grandmother, was one of a kind and I've shared quite a bit about her over the years. She was the official packrat of the family, although I'm learning that not only did my dad share that gene, but since I have so much of her 'stuff' I should officially announce that I, too, am a packrat. Loraine was born in Santa Cruz on 20 January, 1896 and died in Los Gatos 08 May, 1982.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXhJwfQ4DopPWrPyO_rVdfzZXRUx4lpz4uPv3a73Q1L2wl5LmkCon2Ds4J4uRqt_msXMif3VlFSpOzVNxypaowjuU9-4pA2NWwXCIBW3ej93kZjvdUdhOh4TN6p-X6lI5tmDScZN9P5GafDrBdx-ASN9Zk4TZfZlsseM0Vw-3nelLG98OSPWwA27Xx=s1498" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1498" data-original-width="1007" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXhJwfQ4DopPWrPyO_rVdfzZXRUx4lpz4uPv3a73Q1L2wl5LmkCon2Ds4J4uRqt_msXMif3VlFSpOzVNxypaowjuU9-4pA2NWwXCIBW3ej93kZjvdUdhOh4TN6p-X6lI5tmDScZN9P5GafDrBdx-ASN9Zk4TZfZlsseM0Vw-3nelLG98OSPWwA27Xx=w269-h400" width="269" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mildred Loraine Gunzendorfer, c 1897</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhy3Z8Wly6ET0rIoxsolH7BjCi6HWh1CqApiLXG7hhYbAP89wuquX1BvcaObGQU-fOLybiNOpyU8ieH2JCKRwycinJNN5K0BBWdyrpW_4QhwaXO9eaiPHLVK4ERSqEUybsuK7LckV7rINgk7GV3YAcKkZmTrHNJvFd-Ncd0qsFAGFecZ1X4dCWWVG3Z=s1571" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1571" data-original-width="930" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhy3Z8Wly6ET0rIoxsolH7BjCi6HWh1CqApiLXG7hhYbAP89wuquX1BvcaObGQU-fOLybiNOpyU8ieH2JCKRwycinJNN5K0BBWdyrpW_4QhwaXO9eaiPHLVK4ERSqEUybsuK7LckV7rINgk7GV3YAcKkZmTrHNJvFd-Ncd0qsFAGFecZ1X4dCWWVG3Z=w236-h400" width="236" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mildred Loraine Gunzendorfer, 1912</span></i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirlTsB3LWGJnmIQdHkuEBLodQTdgBJJz2MTfC_lXj4rLykhtb0iFwGW7IIKEKlT195hGQrusUNYrGptNGOV6ufMA_t702K-DIb0nUW0Bdt0HzYBxvPcBAM0_Lbyl3IkazKJsGz-agwmW-T4pmiZYBFm28hT3nIMCG-KJxT7IbNk2JzNTHOy-nexZPY=s777" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="653" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirlTsB3LWGJnmIQdHkuEBLodQTdgBJJz2MTfC_lXj4rLykhtb0iFwGW7IIKEKlT195hGQrusUNYrGptNGOV6ufMA_t702K-DIb0nUW0Bdt0HzYBxvPcBAM0_Lbyl3IkazKJsGz-agwmW-T4pmiZYBFm28hT3nIMCG-KJxT7IbNk2JzNTHOy-nexZPY=w336-h400" width="336" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mildred Loraine (Gunzendorfer) Levy, 1969</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><u>Clara Maxine (Fitzgerald) Martin Hunter</u></b></div><div><b><u><br /></u></b></div><div>Grandma Clara was my maternal grandmother - did I ever know that her middle name was Maxine before I started with genealogy? We were fortunate that our grandparents lived about 10 minutes apart so we spent a lot of time in Fresno visiting. We loved to visit Grandma Clara because she had the chicken ranch and we loved helping collect, weigh, and package the eggs. Clara was born in Fresno on 22 January, 1903 and died in Fresno on 27 February, 1987. With the exception of a year or two in Oakland in about 1940, I don't think she ever lived outside of Fresno.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyeqlsu-suDdSXxNItHkCI4kF1grm7zie6YZX5hmrkujBqPVz2wQ05CgmhOO5rfjFpJFEDgbl2bNWcWchzdV-pe2wEXg49R7P85QgNIO-X_SpQc5FqfZ1e38ZtlThsbGgbm94jcM1DYH3OxzzOsQ3-fKYks89Xd0qvM8Ket_GIvNOFoVX3JFq-6PjF=s1138" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1138" data-original-width="820" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyeqlsu-suDdSXxNItHkCI4kF1grm7zie6YZX5hmrkujBqPVz2wQ05CgmhOO5rfjFpJFEDgbl2bNWcWchzdV-pe2wEXg49R7P85QgNIO-X_SpQc5FqfZ1e38ZtlThsbGgbm94jcM1DYH3OxzzOsQ3-fKYks89Xd0qvM8Ket_GIvNOFoVX3JFq-6PjF=w289-h400" width="289" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Clara Maxine Fitzgerald, 1903</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOQLghK5dHCzMpjcezS547dQ3iggHaSfvtLsZORFSlOFH09-7T0Vb4t1svokEg6eKyk64OeBF-uG3o0ciY7_yiD2WCU2rW7Z8L0QfSPOZ5XEiaHaEOHdOQzJWdfPE6wNM3HgXadg6PQB2IbtmMId39yKEkwhUNM2DZ_2CzXUctFk1sJW_ccaVaC2Zz=s1974" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1974" data-original-width="1199" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOQLghK5dHCzMpjcezS547dQ3iggHaSfvtLsZORFSlOFH09-7T0Vb4t1svokEg6eKyk64OeBF-uG3o0ciY7_yiD2WCU2rW7Z8L0QfSPOZ5XEiaHaEOHdOQzJWdfPE6wNM3HgXadg6PQB2IbtmMId39yKEkwhUNM2DZ_2CzXUctFk1sJW_ccaVaC2Zz=w242-h400" width="242" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Clara Maxine Fitzgerald, 1923</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuzBt-hE7yky4gFTzjHK98hBzpg5zUHaL3JXCv59X8j4Lp0JOSgJvgraauW-gvuQ7DVfU4MgHuv1OhWmwIFnyoVvwBy2BG4V7l5MucJ3ZQlIh_uBRIzKa0LerloItVv_6Y_rjJ4C4ePS9Lr5_7nP_KVBHp-24uSIb2kWBy97bTEgtBZd6STOU-Wqy8=s1773" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1773" data-original-width="1316" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuzBt-hE7yky4gFTzjHK98hBzpg5zUHaL3JXCv59X8j4Lp0JOSgJvgraauW-gvuQ7DVfU4MgHuv1OhWmwIFnyoVvwBy2BG4V7l5MucJ3ZQlIh_uBRIzKa0LerloItVv_6Y_rjJ4C4ePS9Lr5_7nP_KVBHp-24uSIb2kWBy97bTEgtBZd6STOU-Wqy8=w298-h400" width="298" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Clara Maxine (Fitzgerald) Hunter, c1960</span></i></div></i><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I can't believe my grandmothers have been gone all these years and now - gasp - I'm the grandmother. Time sure has a way of marching on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy birthday, Grandmas! </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><br /></p></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-579452843006012932021-12-31T12:06:00.017-08:002021-12-31T12:30:58.794-08:00Top 10 Genealogical Finds of 2021<p>Here we are again at the end of a year - time for me to post my Top 10 Genealogical Finds for 2021. Once again I don't feel that I've been too productive but I just keep plugging away. So in my best David Letterman voice, I give you my Top 10 Genealogical Finds for 2021.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEs7GD8e41YyIYNxSL-q3Dnp5ajiO-ixivTcLhvMLzxIhpL4SGCIK2CcMqmnAzV_KPnHa74y4LeKy9Bb5FqZ9WgVcMzy6CD5fBSqVguWz5O4LOdbGg1RvDPEzsIGii-ZFsq2kMalf_SNw_eOYWxuuKIDQgemMjJXOz1YO0kGQFT7qGqAT-8RMCJq3i=s478" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="467" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEs7GD8e41YyIYNxSL-q3Dnp5ajiO-ixivTcLhvMLzxIhpL4SGCIK2CcMqmnAzV_KPnHa74y4LeKy9Bb5FqZ9WgVcMzy6CD5fBSqVguWz5O4LOdbGg1RvDPEzsIGii-ZFsq2kMalf_SNw_eOYWxuuKIDQgemMjJXOz1YO0kGQFT7qGqAT-8RMCJq3i=w391-h400" width="391" /></a></div><div><br /></div>You can read my previous year's discoveries here: <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2020/12/52-ancestors-resolution-top-10.html" target="_blank">2020</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2019/12/top-10-genealogical-finds-of-2019.html" target="_blank">2019</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2018/12/top-10-genealogical-finds-of-2018.html" target="_blank">2018</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2017/12/top-10-genealogical-finds-of-2017.html" target="_blank">2017</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2017/01/top-10-genealogical-finds-of-2016.html" target="_blank">2016</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2015/12/top-10-genealogical-finds-of-2015.html" target="_blank">2015</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2014/12/top-10-genealogical-finds-of-2014.html" target="_blank">2014</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2014/01/top-10-genealogical-finds-of-2013.html" target="_blank">2013</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2012/12/top-10-genealogical-finds-of-2012.html" target="_blank">2012</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2013/01/and-now-105.html" target="_blank">2012.5</a> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2011/12/top-10-genealogical-finds-for-2011.html" target="_blank">2011</a><div><br /></div><div><b>Number 10: </b>The original post was from 2020 <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2020/08/52-ancestors-large-marks-schwartz.html" target="_blank">Large - Marks Schwartz</a> but I received some follow up information in 2021. I was hoping to identify these two photos in the hope that they might be Marks.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieyu0IrspBc1GruKBGCUGCTR0dozCbuh-UR7pmhBrPsMlIB0vtwI5jhWYNzie7E9jegCQN2C6zFV5p6br-cERbZSTHgOPT-wgvUEFnL6jFO0F6S4djQI-jvPlrbKRWV6vPgtAM_qfCqw3TQyifxNCZYnH_nP4SWnJ8-QHU4yEAtxGkE3J0gtFn57-F=s630" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="630" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieyu0IrspBc1GruKBGCUGCTR0dozCbuh-UR7pmhBrPsMlIB0vtwI5jhWYNzie7E9jegCQN2C6zFV5p6br-cERbZSTHgOPT-wgvUEFnL6jFO0F6S4djQI-jvPlrbKRWV6vPgtAM_qfCqw3TQyifxNCZYnH_nP4SWnJ8-QHU4yEAtxGkE3J0gtFn57-F=w400-h318" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>I contacted the Photo Genealogist (www.sherlockcohn.com) and I sent her photos, information, and anything else I had related to the family. She analyzed everything, researched, studied and did her magic to conclude that these two boys were not Marks but his brother, Colman.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0lPrReunErZELnyIRy56xuNGF1UatXFz-LFtSdtAZ8fRtY9qzhr-m_tEA_20jJN2WS_85Nc1L0IDRDL8KOfSsye240lmsSSclgaOnxEnbfzME7SnfM0PaNKUx-aEGkul14l_hGO1a6VqcvfWQ6oAgtiRrcUJR5PxB-YZeq4M92WzMzKhu8vAgLUD8=s1856" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1856" data-original-width="1216" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0lPrReunErZELnyIRy56xuNGF1UatXFz-LFtSdtAZ8fRtY9qzhr-m_tEA_20jJN2WS_85Nc1L0IDRDL8KOfSsye240lmsSSclgaOnxEnbfzME7SnfM0PaNKUx-aEGkul14l_hGO1a6VqcvfWQ6oAgtiRrcUJR5PxB-YZeq4M92WzMzKhu8vAgLUD8=w263-h400" width="263" /></a></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Colman Schwartz, 1890, age 5</span></i></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">If you want/need photos identified, I encourage you to get in touch with Ava for assistance. She is very busy so you'll need to be patient but it is so worth it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 9:</b> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/02/52-ancestors-in-kitchen-tamale-pie.html" target="_blank"> In the Kitchen</a> I was glad to finally document my mother's 'famous' Tamale Pie. I realize it's only famous to my siblings and me but someday, maybe someone will find the recipe and make it famous again.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 8:</b> <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/08/52-ancestors-character-dick-crawford.html" target="_blank">Dick Crawford</a> was a very special friend to my grandfather, Sig Levy, and I was thrilled to be able to learn more about him. I don't remember ever meeting Dick Crawford or even hearing about him but I'm glad that he's now been "found" (at least in my blog).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 7: </b> With the exception of one decade, my dad spent his entire career working for <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/09/52-ancestors-working-dean-witter.html" target="_blank">Dean Witter</a>. Sure the name changed over the years and today is known as Morgan Stanley but he stuck with them until his death. I'm glad I was able to find his scrapbook/album and learn more about his time there.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 6:</b> After some anxious moments, we found a photo of my husband's great grandfather, <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/03/52-ancestors-names-same-winfield-scott.html" target="_blank">Winfield Scott Byrd</a>. And as luck would have it, we found ourselves driving through Pocatello, Idaho on a road trip this fall which is where Winfield (and many other ancestors) is buried. We were happy to have been able to stop and pay our respects.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggFdlNljcblYCGuyPko50Od_jJQ13P2YO2l0bsxopjbgQCWogwn-__hyNHwTfwmhKeW_wt3y5zQUVQFZkveMaOtL8JwOmu40iWw8FwN6dl0UIMCyreEYpoz2jlHzRfZ4Xwr52RjaH2Xj_gwY74Rw4tC3vHrEcKw0pAc39o88gkLPPPBmKAHIVECG4g=s640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="640" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggFdlNljcblYCGuyPko50Od_jJQ13P2YO2l0bsxopjbgQCWogwn-__hyNHwTfwmhKeW_wt3y5zQUVQFZkveMaOtL8JwOmu40iWw8FwN6dl0UIMCyreEYpoz2jlHzRfZ4Xwr52RjaH2Xj_gwY74Rw4tC3vHrEcKw0pAc39o88gkLPPPBmKAHIVECG4g=w400-h264" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Mountain View Cemetery, Pocatello, Idaho</i></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 5: </b>I discovered a photo and learned a lot about the 1902 class of <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/06/52-ancestors-groups-fresno-grammar.html" target="_blank">Fresno Grammar School</a> and it really gave me a sense of what life was like for my grandfather.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 4:</b> Connecting with people is one of the greatest gifts of blogging. This year I met two <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/11/52-ancestors-thankful-new-friends.html" target="_blank">New Friends</a> and was able to obtain a copy of a book that features the home of my grandparents which they owned for nearly 50 years. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPqo0SrilGijG_L8KQi8GO4o6UTMlAgJwKycNCD1jvcxgPSE2V5TYxeAJImg_rkx6yINx_BWj7SoiOueLha-LzBGkzbydZ4wtVe7AvQoQJZpciKJxyYulrvFMerdLRRjsejWlcigWLZaifdRW37XvzvdKEQsGFxjWtPtiQKkw28m5TJHCUCwQfMRoe=s600" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPqo0SrilGijG_L8KQi8GO4o6UTMlAgJwKycNCD1jvcxgPSE2V5TYxeAJImg_rkx6yINx_BWj7SoiOueLha-LzBGkzbydZ4wtVe7AvQoQJZpciKJxyYulrvFMerdLRRjsejWlcigWLZaifdRW37XvzvdKEQsGFxjWtPtiQKkw28m5TJHCUCwQfMRoe=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 3:</b> I'd procrastinated for years getting my blog put into print and am happy to say that I accomplished it this year. Once I found a platform to use and figured things out, it was actually sort of fun to put these together. In fact, now I'm putting the book together as I blog so that when I finish this post, I'll add it and get the book ordered. <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/10/52-ancestors-preservation-blog-books.html" target="_blank">Preservation - Blog Books</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 2:</b> Who knew <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/05/52-ancestors-cousin-bait-mrs.html" target="_blank">Mrs. Gunzendorfer made a Nut Cake</a>? It wasn't an actual cousin that I baited but with a name like Gunzendorfer, it's not hard to "hook" others who know the name. I'm so thankful that George connected me with Ann - hey, another new friend!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Number 1: </b>This year has helped me learn so much about my dad's time in the Army, particularly when he spent time in Germany in 1946. I'd always wondered how it was that he found himself at the War Trials and after transcribing all of his letters, I learned about that time and his feelings about seeing the Dachau camp. I only wish he were here so we could talk about - I bet I'd learn even more.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I've started putting together a book with his letters and accompanying photos. It's going to be a long ride but I'm happy to have the opportunity to document it in one more way. Hopefully, that will be my top genealogical find in 2022. I think I'll incorporate this photo, with his caption, in the title. Watch for a best seller!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjDmPhTrvS-uU7BItPbjL_dWr_unmp--6xoG4ZDdCpah8B8KgYq_9bzkTZu0cBERAhbNzLe1wRRn3U_QeTvWYymxw-cnsOMsTsMbUM7rOVfvtPq8CyBaJ-s8u8DRiICLjigAmXkoNPVQlwFoIBX4Cm4MAEW1T2k8Y41car0Ofa8kP32l3dv3HzbOb9=s1338" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1055" data-original-width="1338" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjDmPhTrvS-uU7BItPbjL_dWr_unmp--6xoG4ZDdCpah8B8KgYq_9bzkTZu0cBERAhbNzLe1wRRn3U_QeTvWYymxw-cnsOMsTsMbUM7rOVfvtPq8CyBaJ-s8u8DRiICLjigAmXkoNPVQlwFoIBX4Cm4MAEW1T2k8Y41car0Ofa8kP32l3dv3HzbOb9=w400-h315" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">While it hasn't been a full year of discoveries, I do feel like I've made some headway with some of my projects. On to 2022!</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-10816701735220505912021-12-30T15:26:00.001-08:002021-12-31T08:09:00.676-08:0052 Ancestors: Future - Daughters of the American Revolution<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPNFZUvQ6vfYZvfZD5m9Ce-YaHuSP-U3f6TM1Lyxc_9hDSUTuNHxVuVPesLWTfwhZRbwaJQ3ziWdBdrVY0gPeJVgkSVLQjrCvOUL1V9Yk7i8EVqYYrUtK_akcGX4PBh3j_ffUH-UTuQj-Nx8W6wQwW4CyeQuVEWTS0W8aj3tX5fFVrLvdrB87MvUsR=s316" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="316" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPNFZUvQ6vfYZvfZD5m9Ce-YaHuSP-U3f6TM1Lyxc_9hDSUTuNHxVuVPesLWTfwhZRbwaJQ3ziWdBdrVY0gPeJVgkSVLQjrCvOUL1V9Yk7i8EVqYYrUtK_akcGX4PBh3j_ffUH-UTuQj-Nx8W6wQwW4CyeQuVEWTS0W8aj3tX5fFVrLvdrB87MvUsR=w400-h192" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I've written before about my desire to join the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR). I'm not really someone to participate in clubs but I really wanted to honor my patriot 5x great grandfather, Ashbel Waller. I've written about him several times - here's a sample. <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2014/05/heres-my-ticket.html" target="_blank">HERE'S MY TICKET. </a></p><p>Earlier this week my blogging friend, Wendy, posted on her blog related to this prompt and stated that she might close down her blog. I LOVE her blog so I was very sorry to hear this but completely understood because she is the registrar for her DAR chapter and I know that keeps her very busy. You can read her blog post <a href="https://jollettetc.blogspot.com/2021/12/52-ancestors-future-jollett-etc-going.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>. I commented about how much I enjoy her blog and casually said in my comment <i>If you ever feel the need to get involved in one more thing, you can always help me (and my patriot) get admitted to DAR.</i></p><p>And then things started moving very, very quickly. Within one hour Wendy replied <i>Debi, I found a patriot for you. You can thank your grandfather Earle Martin for his lineage. Most of your ancestors arrived after the Revolution.</i></p><p>WHAT? My track to Ashbel Waller is through my maternal grandmother and Earle Martin was my maternal grand<i>father.</i> Just like that she found <i>another</i> Revolutionary War patriot?</p><p>Turns out that this new (to me) patriot is Archibald McDaniel, my 4x great grandfather. I really don't know much about Archibald other than a name and some dates that I have on my tree. He was already verified through DAR so my path would be relatively easy but......I wanted to honor Ashbel Waller which Wendy said I could still do and she would help me.</p><p>And just like that, she sent me a draft of my application and had nearly all of the information I would need. I'd contacted a local chapter in 2010 and after some frustrating e-mails back and forth, I put Ashbel on the back burner and told myself "I'll get back to it". And as you might suspect, I told myself that for the next 11 years. Yes, 11 years. And then yesterday arrived and I'm so close to sending in my application - hang on, Ashbel, I'm coming for you!</p><p>I can't thank Wendy enough for guiding me through this. Okay, let's be real - she's doing more than guiding! And because of her, my FUTURE just might involve being an official DAR.</p><p>Here's how I descend from Ashbel - Clara Fitzgerald was my maternal grandmother.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8dMU59F2EmlnWaKNlxjOfHx8sKqPnyuo9GPYXY7z8CV4ybDlIjKPb7ZqF0UjyJ8odF9lw2Cgnm-pBcq_BZhndhldJtTHN2z_7Xwtw17HxcaC3gUguZt6J3qeGfjpcDYCyQNzZqfzRzBGGYOltIWAVjyUr-hkvhw1BpJRheuBW5NKAb4i0qJJrDqQ_=s807" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="678" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8dMU59F2EmlnWaKNlxjOfHx8sKqPnyuo9GPYXY7z8CV4ybDlIjKPb7ZqF0UjyJ8odF9lw2Cgnm-pBcq_BZhndhldJtTHN2z_7Xwtw17HxcaC3gUguZt6J3qeGfjpcDYCyQNzZqfzRzBGGYOltIWAVjyUr-hkvhw1BpJRheuBW5NKAb4i0qJJrDqQ_=w538-h640" width="538" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-79523767425829198832021-12-26T14:36:00.000-08:002021-12-26T14:36:12.437-08:0052 Ancestors: Holidays - Dolls<p>I don't have many memories of holidays as a child (that was a LONG time ago) but I do have a few memories that involve dolls.</p><p>My parents were raised in different faiths - my father Jewish and my mother Christian. While "technically" we were not Jewish since our Mother was a Gentile, they agreed that the kids would be raised Jewish and Mom non-formally converted. But one thing she said she could never take away from her kids was Santa Claus. Which was definitely a bonus for us as we celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas - SCORE!</p><p>When I think about those long-ago holidays, the clearest memories I have is of dolls. I don't remember specifics as to how old I was when I received which doll but as I was rummaging through my hope chest the other day, I came across some that I've held on to all these years.</p><p>Little Women was a favorite book back then and while I don't remember too many specifics of the book, I do remember that my favorite character was Jo. I'm not sure what it was about Jo that drew me in but it must have been something for me to hang on to this doll all these years. Boy, she has sure seen better days!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMDHfO-ZySS1fTyU0A9jSLtIrfDWaNmb-gxpo-z4xIye_IrH0BJv3YaLo3pXhS2UpH4YM58NUNR3dYrLWZnzlD6O08s6tjKNq0RHiVS5KG24PrtYx7gzLCeYdJK3O0IS-jD3VOlHighQZm9XD_H6RRbbeJMju3EnRL-xmzvzb7povKUnjIBuI5Ih3n=s3424" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3424" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMDHfO-ZySS1fTyU0A9jSLtIrfDWaNmb-gxpo-z4xIye_IrH0BJv3YaLo3pXhS2UpH4YM58NUNR3dYrLWZnzlD6O08s6tjKNq0RHiVS5KG24PrtYx7gzLCeYdJK3O0IS-jD3VOlHighQZm9XD_H6RRbbeJMju3EnRL-xmzvzb7povKUnjIBuI5Ih3n=w350-h400" width="350" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Her poor arms and legs are falling off - a sign of a well loved doll.</i></span></div><div><br /></div>I seem to remember that my sister liked Amy and had a doll much like this.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjH87iG9zg9KNRbkZtov8a1bJnJ8SPdPdyHUKARyBQw9ytSfj06uco2YuI113Cf5iGtfqQdbg7NuEn5Ev-icmER7Gad-2H5dog1tkSYRLVERiz4WqxwKDPcy5Uimb_hQPk9WqFnEuNk12hNs-DxDef1wjnOSZoLdvhQ5Uklhwj-s-0ZK8C_S0Fvnr1g=s225" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="169" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjH87iG9zg9KNRbkZtov8a1bJnJ8SPdPdyHUKARyBQw9ytSfj06uco2YuI113Cf5iGtfqQdbg7NuEn5Ev-icmER7Gad-2H5dog1tkSYRLVERiz4WqxwKDPcy5Uimb_hQPk9WqFnEuNk12hNs-DxDef1wjnOSZoLdvhQ5Uklhwj-s-0ZK8C_S0Fvnr1g=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And a few years later when Troll dolls were all the rage, I had quite a collection. But these two seem to be the only ones I hung on to.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFYTS5GLWBtaSmLgrvt1j2WlVTYz0dlov3K5viKI468Zr-FFSnkwwpqOTGHgPS7VEsQVUfMZAIgdQBVKVQcFjCtac_BL5uwgFawCKYBEL5qUHNLKEm8ROVWI_ftyAbXSwwyZ26m8eP-FCN7oPyLHldWCEynh5ev1H9fSs4PWvzL4cYSp3Pb2-giFGt=s3234" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2633" data-original-width="3234" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFYTS5GLWBtaSmLgrvt1j2WlVTYz0dlov3K5viKI468Zr-FFSnkwwpqOTGHgPS7VEsQVUfMZAIgdQBVKVQcFjCtac_BL5uwgFawCKYBEL5qUHNLKEm8ROVWI_ftyAbXSwwyZ26m8eP-FCN7oPyLHldWCEynh5ev1H9fSs4PWvzL4cYSp3Pb2-giFGt=w400-h326" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>There were always dolls in our bedroom. When my parents or grandparents were traveling, they would often bring home a doll or two to add to our collection. There was a shelf in our room up by the ceiling where we could display the dolls and they could collect dust. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhoIM40PRip3ZUJbqztaUXj5HWbxqmLtFhtsuVlDjMsAnZeAhiU_oR6yGLdDrrY0VL_2F3H8803AkUZXDtGuCwG9rope7GPSwnIR0c6KGW8wQOmi5EJQtM2zaEjkaNq2k1aIBWimdd-KKdy6LXmPgQow76LiAkAwoYRYSaHixje3ubdRsYDhL3YpYDb=s4359" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="4359" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhoIM40PRip3ZUJbqztaUXj5HWbxqmLtFhtsuVlDjMsAnZeAhiU_oR6yGLdDrrY0VL_2F3H8803AkUZXDtGuCwG9rope7GPSwnIR0c6KGW8wQOmi5EJQtM2zaEjkaNq2k1aIBWimdd-KKdy6LXmPgQow76LiAkAwoYRYSaHixje3ubdRsYDhL3YpYDb=w640-h110" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I remember one very special doll that, apparently, I played with quite a bit as she is very beat up. See her up above in the middle of the shelf?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmsfyNRo7FV6KavfV7f63qyo78vBuOZukGCQSZ5hnAnPPcsmYi5sdz4JZ-wmeFxBOzpKtjNHobCjLww8q8Fc6HXN9H3hPDo2bfMVHfhKDW3rFhL5y_mJ4e8AC6k8JZ3Jky1_2T0CJzWx4SwxMkT6e_MvXvqrEOyCuQBi2IO9eFNS6mqvXPlavwSURY=s3424" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3424" data-original-width="2254" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmsfyNRo7FV6KavfV7f63qyo78vBuOZukGCQSZ5hnAnPPcsmYi5sdz4JZ-wmeFxBOzpKtjNHobCjLww8q8Fc6HXN9H3hPDo2bfMVHfhKDW3rFhL5y_mJ4e8AC6k8JZ3Jky1_2T0CJzWx4SwxMkT6e_MvXvqrEOyCuQBi2IO9eFNS6mqvXPlavwSURY=w264-h400" width="264" /></a></div><br /><div>But no doll was as special to me as Tiny Thumbelina. Unfortunately, I didn't think to save her but I remember she looked something like this.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnZDUx1T9LRm2yyWwW1xvPZpsGLkiTsIyPc5yOGiBysISIKS5CfRi1-a0QZ-yK9m2BikOWKXhLEj6gacCpsF3x7XnIEOzm7c9fZAPgyR9Z96IgHEGlXzmiwfW8cGt9pA7htPxjXKWWYAcRPed-1koPVQwXRVYqsbQ2-tllNi2tHnLQ8oqhQ6xEHBWV=s225" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="173" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnZDUx1T9LRm2yyWwW1xvPZpsGLkiTsIyPc5yOGiBysISIKS5CfRi1-a0QZ-yK9m2BikOWKXhLEj6gacCpsF3x7XnIEOzm7c9fZAPgyR9Z96IgHEGlXzmiwfW8cGt9pA7htPxjXKWWYAcRPed-1koPVQwXRVYqsbQ2-tllNi2tHnLQ8oqhQ6xEHBWV=w308-h400" width="308" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Tiny Thumbelina was not only a very special doll because she moved like a real baby but she is how I found out about Santa Claus!<div><br /></div><div>I must have been about 8 or 9 years old when my cousin came for a visit from Kentucky shortly before Christmas. She was right between my sister and me in age and we had a lot of fun playing together. While we had a pretty cool play house in the back yard, we had sort of outgrown it so didn't play in it often. But to my cousin, it must have looked pretty interesting so she asked if we could go out to play. Sure, let's go.</div><div><br /></div><div>Imagine my surprise when I opened the door and saw a bunch of toys stacked inside. What was that? So, of course, inquiring minds wanted to know so we quietly stepped inside to take a look. And there amongst the toys was a Tiny Thumbelina doll brand new in her box! I never said a word to my parents but when Christmas morning rolled around and that beautiful Tiny Thumbelina doll was under the tree with my name on it, I figured it out. My parents were Santa Claus!</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't think kids are as fond of dolls as we were but boy did we have fun playing with our dolls!</div><div><div><p><br /></p></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-57045103858890898192021-12-19T13:35:00.001-08:002021-12-19T13:35:42.293-08:00 52 Ancestors: Lines - Telegrams<div class="separator">This weeks' blog prompt brought to mind telegrams, where someone could send a few <i>lines</i> of important information to their loved ones. You might say that today's telegrams are known as texts. </div><p>My family left a lot of telegrams for me to ponder. During the courtship of my paternal grandparents, Sig Levy and Loraine Gunzendorfer, Sig spent time preparing for war in 1918 and wrote to Loraine about what was going on with those preparations. And, of course, he sent a few telegrams along the way. Loraine kept a scrapbook during those times and fortunately for me, kept a lot (was it all?) of those telegrams. You can read about them <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2012/11/telegram.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdX6dG9u-F_D8syidvx7NZ3RN7IrFSBNyRai8nwUlyHGnM3wE3PIuyqHH83kgpJbw6eeXk3jyI0HOr9QjaClteuifkb0BgX3O20BMxiwn5AEX31fcaswUBEeFDQ7EdDVMScBCdADXTN7FHeZh5Oy95KO8i703DgIFH_bXsshzUWbwFbxNLshN5FtWh=s4608" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2381" data-original-width="4608" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdX6dG9u-F_D8syidvx7NZ3RN7IrFSBNyRai8nwUlyHGnM3wE3PIuyqHH83kgpJbw6eeXk3jyI0HOr9QjaClteuifkb0BgX3O20BMxiwn5AEX31fcaswUBEeFDQ7EdDVMScBCdADXTN7FHeZh5Oy95KO8i703DgIFH_bXsshzUWbwFbxNLshN5FtWh=w400-h206" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>They've clearly seen better days!</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>It was fun to see the things that Sig found important enough to drop her a line with the information. Such sad news when he said that his father, Herman Levy, had passed away....</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeU0-WAQXR2uys380DSNonMgAy8IoVF-acl1BQrrOChIBMQVLkFCLWZKCjJJF3B8MlE-z8fnDCJ2qPbr0hdtwjNgtGafJ76ecis9enqdGUifZiO2Q6rNoOZN6Pq80aoi7J1jPKM5a15zoSLvdVMxihs0qRWkhtchCw9pYaZjl_j9opX_bsG_NE5Fed=s2384" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="2384" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeU0-WAQXR2uys380DSNonMgAy8IoVF-acl1BQrrOChIBMQVLkFCLWZKCjJJF3B8MlE-z8fnDCJ2qPbr0hdtwjNgtGafJ76ecis9enqdGUifZiO2Q6rNoOZN6Pq80aoi7J1jPKM5a15zoSLvdVMxihs0qRWkhtchCw9pYaZjl_j9opX_bsG_NE5Fed=w400-h215" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>March 6, 1918</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div><br /><div>But then there was happy news when the war was over......</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhD1TSwH_aB0tYzTvTI1LfeHeBSojG8judTMnmfIwqY40Vs2syDu69KTYFj6sIjOAx7W9V2HUMgiAmyFO7Wy7qbhiaB8BG3l-kk5GvJS6DVZi1HxJ4pGQKwtFns7APduWCSHW7RBzI9PfjYBW7hGf5cpOxGCwRRgXHqTcg-qLWWtaO6aSx6MKmB5EzV=s2302" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1420" data-original-width="2302" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhD1TSwH_aB0tYzTvTI1LfeHeBSojG8judTMnmfIwqY40Vs2syDu69KTYFj6sIjOAx7W9V2HUMgiAmyFO7Wy7qbhiaB8BG3l-kk5GvJS6DVZi1HxJ4pGQKwtFns7APduWCSHW7RBzI9PfjYBW7hGf5cpOxGCwRRgXHqTcg-qLWWtaO6aSx6MKmB5EzV=w400-h246" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>November 12, 1918</i></div></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Loraine's brother, Wilt Gunzendorfer, sent a telegram to my dad on his 1st birthday. The problem with telegrams was that you were unable to proof before it was sent so Wilt was changed to Will.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimhgbC1j3B6vJElg2t3JhI5tKmLgAQZFDpGM3twZD3Qi-oem0SGnLqlEpdGStAvWXU_xhaQ28vl3MVkiIFKP2JX-D8wPE5KawHMo8t1qKfIRb0Tc-5lYnHXhJwt1rmmJU4MwZm9bPn0dDHhMOaYEDwF6-Hg-7q3NFmaZm9qYW87n01P_ssEE4cyUIX=s2479" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1652" data-original-width="2479" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimhgbC1j3B6vJElg2t3JhI5tKmLgAQZFDpGM3twZD3Qi-oem0SGnLqlEpdGStAvWXU_xhaQ28vl3MVkiIFKP2JX-D8wPE5KawHMo8t1qKfIRb0Tc-5lYnHXhJwt1rmmJU4MwZm9bPn0dDHhMOaYEDwF6-Hg-7q3NFmaZm9qYW87n01P_ssEE4cyUIX=w438-h266" width="438" /></a></div><br /><div>My dad sent a few telegrams home telling his parents when he was moving from one base to another.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUR9AWi-BArMn2__3EIsttAFyvmarMun3yAKoJMYTwzMRjV1TsexB_tIqm-4hCcT5KZQe2AtBHvkvf_YWUDLruxz5vlYE6NUpXK9i6G7HY_Xtm0lILlVNENDixCNpEMiwZbFQ7IG_OILIJBPWcbS_X9UBuy4SzlYTwWI1pSV5QjWpNuitTMLuWQgag=s2394" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1712" data-original-width="2394" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUR9AWi-BArMn2__3EIsttAFyvmarMun3yAKoJMYTwzMRjV1TsexB_tIqm-4hCcT5KZQe2AtBHvkvf_YWUDLruxz5vlYE6NUpXK9i6G7HY_Xtm0lILlVNENDixCNpEMiwZbFQ7IG_OILIJBPWcbS_X9UBuy4SzlYTwWI1pSV5QjWpNuitTMLuWQgag=w400-h286" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I wonder what the present was?</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhush48_EuBQYH_sdmnlUHxf0aLBH9E0RPqSHUYZp2fyhHmlx2w5y8Ek5ozzaZoRlxpKFYGL6l1GxYbLqU7Md7gx9x4jKKtPIIDov7VNcjSXf_zsW6lLFivEzM8_xNfm5jsG_AtIXrW5UKipx7tgpqI9Mp30yq1KWrT2WjaNsaAesooOgMwUQ1FXwtk=s2368" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1680" data-original-width="2368" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhush48_EuBQYH_sdmnlUHxf0aLBH9E0RPqSHUYZp2fyhHmlx2w5y8Ek5ozzaZoRlxpKFYGL6l1GxYbLqU7Md7gx9x4jKKtPIIDov7VNcjSXf_zsW6lLFivEzM8_xNfm5jsG_AtIXrW5UKipx7tgpqI9Mp30yq1KWrT2WjaNsaAesooOgMwUQ1FXwtk=w400-h284" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I love that he added "tell Gerry" (that was my mom).</i></div><div><br /></div><div>My parents received telegrams congratulating them on their marriage.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiI6GIuBwS-NIdOXCO6KMlIUz7SHhI3atxHdxYei1z2Fnmzvf4kFjCQbz7GQPrQAsZSIQKD9Ou0YTWo057NHEE2A1hq9_la3XCJqrwBG2zAc4wfnBuREmiEkh6HPF2iD3OflaOGO97oqbBapFoDgD16Uea3Zj6fy2ArkxDYN43l-heqndzrGQSCsdm8=s4288" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4288" data-original-width="3272" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiI6GIuBwS-NIdOXCO6KMlIUz7SHhI3atxHdxYei1z2Fnmzvf4kFjCQbz7GQPrQAsZSIQKD9Ou0YTWo057NHEE2A1hq9_la3XCJqrwBG2zAc4wfnBuREmiEkh6HPF2iD3OflaOGO97oqbBapFoDgD16Uea3Zj6fy2ArkxDYN43l-heqndzrGQSCsdm8=w305-h400" width="305" /></a></div><br /><div>A few samples. That's Loraine's handwriting giving them the address of the sender so they could write and thank them. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrkDM8Dz62Hrif1BrjV8JDTYOyw2cH8jPi8MoVB6CJQtkYA_5yx3Ikk_oAaaEd_CtnPbAPQAODTs2Vr3LyQeByZ6E3tnqmFEY3i5OvclgdKR5jOhD5agi16dpFPK7HEGXxJ4TaqfjduQDoNkq7OteY_oUunf0WkJAgsFST3y50TvL1wQy__EnNRs4f=s3682" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2647" data-original-width="3682" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrkDM8Dz62Hrif1BrjV8JDTYOyw2cH8jPi8MoVB6CJQtkYA_5yx3Ikk_oAaaEd_CtnPbAPQAODTs2Vr3LyQeByZ6E3tnqmFEY3i5OvclgdKR5jOhD5agi16dpFPK7HEGXxJ4TaqfjduQDoNkq7OteY_oUunf0WkJAgsFST3y50TvL1wQy__EnNRs4f=w400-h288" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Aunt Bella was Bella (Schwartz) Benas</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">First cousin of Loraine's mother, Bertha Schwartz</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8RSFwI4PmaMG1qUDBaci5Vrvw1hUH-xAtjX5Q8BYaSGop_AME8WZ6i_V67oBs7Ty4gX9dJwd7pZO2AK9eNZFT8aGnm2iX-m8mMvZ1uoyWU4jDu4QU12KTUb333ft7uwy3dzySEetIRITyY6sjMaCyi49t8Q-7NlVo-RfxC72WxXem55-HVrua7Yil=s4168" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3113" data-original-width="4168" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8RSFwI4PmaMG1qUDBaci5Vrvw1hUH-xAtjX5Q8BYaSGop_AME8WZ6i_V67oBs7Ty4gX9dJwd7pZO2AK9eNZFT8aGnm2iX-m8mMvZ1uoyWU4jDu4QU12KTUb333ft7uwy3dzySEetIRITyY6sjMaCyi49t8Q-7NlVo-RfxC72WxXem55-HVrua7Yil=w400-h299" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Lionel Traube was the brother of Loraine's brother, Wilt Gunzendorfer's, wife Natalie Traube</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>What's really interesting about all of this is that my mom's step-father, Sheldon Hunter, worked for Western Union Telegraph for most of his life. He was an "office clerk" in San Francisco in 1910 and 1920 - being that he was born in 1895 he started pretty young. Sometime in 1920 he moved to Fresno and was the manager there - did they relocate him? And there he stayed in 1930, 1940 and as late as 1942. He retired sometime between 1942 and 1959 so I'll be interested to learn what he was doing when he was enumerated in the 1950 census which comes out NEXT YEAR!</div><div><br /></div><div>As I was going through some things I came across this photo which shows Managers Attending Seminar Number 16. Based on the pictures on the wall I'm assuming this was a meeting of the Western Union Managers. Shell is kneeling, 2nd from the right.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjn65oKMRunYyxkqEzDhv4k7fYZh3LdTQGhPVfRFi4igitx_N1tJAr24rCqDdLgaa_EAXqp8TEGkkAWNauGNhibh1DZA05qUc-BkMugDBju8ZDZm2CAUZuV1nb3QTd2t8Vd1SKqQlkF5oaN5Gr0VSeIabVae1CBDDzIYZ6wt0r1T7Yk29ut74LK6kii=s2859" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1949" data-original-width="2859" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjn65oKMRunYyxkqEzDhv4k7fYZh3LdTQGhPVfRFi4igitx_N1tJAr24rCqDdLgaa_EAXqp8TEGkkAWNauGNhibh1DZA05qUc-BkMugDBju8ZDZm2CAUZuV1nb3QTd2t8Vd1SKqQlkF5oaN5Gr0VSeIabVae1CBDDzIYZ6wt0r1T7Yk29ut74LK6kii=w640-h435" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg19G9dDbT4spS4889ETeCC5C4J8fLsArGq-q2HpckTmdKWSmQwelOx2d09ElE6yFsf4t9LJaMAoRjGLAcmGBw_Hji_iadhmzugi4LxRClr6dgo6Z455Ehi16nhPVlGdL6-CMjuvjv1AAmxR78zrwU6JRf7jzgKlMecKvzfRrDkJWOLLqEBJQHc1uM6=s2222" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="2222" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg19G9dDbT4spS4889ETeCC5C4J8fLsArGq-q2HpckTmdKWSmQwelOx2d09ElE6yFsf4t9LJaMAoRjGLAcmGBw_Hji_iadhmzugi4LxRClr6dgo6Z455Ehi16nhPVlGdL6-CMjuvjv1AAmxR78zrwU6JRf7jzgKlMecKvzfRrDkJWOLLqEBJQHc1uM6=w640-h300" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I wish telegrams were used today - what a fun look into the past.</div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-38673956992875272192021-12-12T13:29:00.001-08:002021-12-12T13:29:44.227-08:0052 Ancestors: Handmade - Counted Cross Stitch<p>This week's blog prompt reminded me that it's okay to blog about myself - so here goes.</p><p>I don't know exactly how it started or how I learned but years ago I started doing counted cross stitch. I practiced on a few things and then one day I decided to tackle a larger project and after months (or maybe years), I came up with this.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQZGuusz6LQWyvZQbLYV7YKT4Ns8Uc9ahy8tlfmQ35HLxicZZv_porAZPwN9J4YGCOtB-JFo6sNBXYeEL4qY57rKTRzgIL8iXwW4wuLmlzvbW83Sb5tAU3isRO-dCWcuShdtG2C1UW4W8iqw9fU52DxOTRN0Qp_4p5RiESYWvKv_WuKCSdTv-TSuON=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1680" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQZGuusz6LQWyvZQbLYV7YKT4Ns8Uc9ahy8tlfmQ35HLxicZZv_porAZPwN9J4YGCOtB-JFo6sNBXYeEL4qY57rKTRzgIL8iXwW4wuLmlzvbW83Sb5tAU3isRO-dCWcuShdtG2C1UW4W8iqw9fU52DxOTRN0Qp_4p5RiESYWvKv_WuKCSdTv-TSuON=w329-h400" width="329" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Santa With Elves</span></i></div><p>The first thing I wanted to do once it was completed was to hang it on the wall. But being that it was a Christmas item, I thought it might be odd to leave it up all year but also sad to put it away for much of the year. I decided that if it had a "friend", it would be okay to permanently hang it on the wall. So, of course, the next thing to do was to get started on another project. And after many months (or maybe years) again, I had a matched set.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXvRiUnk9PSUTJu8mGoREz3zXbrqk4ZoS4Hjw0m8HlaC5WOAFlRjsQPNxRCxMVuBd9mAlCEkwRpN0CzEdim1QtmJoVsszRtrnIqIZKAl62xqw21APAkLwNDWRtNcTAs6hgRQxb5noBa55YtDY4e0iGrkP4jgcJX2WVDPkeN_GA6urLIVJCR_hHWocG=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1815" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXvRiUnk9PSUTJu8mGoREz3zXbrqk4ZoS4Hjw0m8HlaC5WOAFlRjsQPNxRCxMVuBd9mAlCEkwRpN0CzEdim1QtmJoVsszRtrnIqIZKAl62xqw21APAkLwNDWRtNcTAs6hgRQxb5noBa55YtDY4e0iGrkP4jgcJX2WVDPkeN_GA6urLIVJCR_hHWocG=w355-h400" width="355" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Doctor and the Doll</i></div></span><p style="text-align: left;">Now this was getting fun! So, of course, I had to make another.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikWZqmgY8_7JJJIVMh-Y_RdT601hBoNKalbbJhzl-GoK8hOZ6rYkulJnbi1HnvZoCPzH6WGe7BUmuco0TfSNKa9jioELp7cRtKoCm86H8xE6fqNHupZPdoDimXC0EBrFMXbNqBsfqO-aSmdtjtYIVBW5FyEH_IX-53i-Mi1a7HBmtsmFxCh6aBWrvL=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1718" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikWZqmgY8_7JJJIVMh-Y_RdT601hBoNKalbbJhzl-GoK8hOZ6rYkulJnbi1HnvZoCPzH6WGe7BUmuco0TfSNKa9jioELp7cRtKoCm86H8xE6fqNHupZPdoDimXC0EBrFMXbNqBsfqO-aSmdtjtYIVBW5FyEH_IX-53i-Mi1a7HBmtsmFxCh6aBWrvL=w335-h400" width="335" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Little Spooner Sweethearts</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>And nothing says a collection like four of a kind so I just had to make one more. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4sRAQokBRnoA7O179xjlWx79En23E-4pXmIcajiq0YvTy_Hg1CCTfUqW-P9YwfFAzmRXHKOtAKvvBcYWg-UI-C_-aGQPPTvPHEIPjRL74S-7ArMemSpCQR8Zhxd7b3L5Xemwy-iNs2ZBSuXqddyWL-h7DLsAZ7v2uNBpLLVx4aWQVFJepJfyWJK1d=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1755" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4sRAQokBRnoA7O179xjlWx79En23E-4pXmIcajiq0YvTy_Hg1CCTfUqW-P9YwfFAzmRXHKOtAKvvBcYWg-UI-C_-aGQPPTvPHEIPjRL74S-7ArMemSpCQR8Zhxd7b3L5Xemwy-iNs2ZBSuXqddyWL-h7DLsAZ7v2uNBpLLVx4aWQVFJepJfyWJK1d=w343-h400" width="343" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>No Swimming</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>I don't remember too many specifics (hey, it's been 30-40 years) but I do remember that the last one wasn't my favorite because it didn't have as many colors. Or maybe it was because I was working on it while our youngest daughter was having her tonsils out.</div><div><br /></div><div>I like to think that one day a descendant will have one (or more) of these hanging on their wall and maybe even blog about it!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-28013342385528838182021-11-28T13:52:00.000-08:002021-11-28T13:52:09.417-08:0052 Ancestors: Thankful - New Friends<p>Over the last few months, I've connected with two new friends and am so thankful for the connections.</p><p>The first was an artist who contacted me about the book he was publishing.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEKRx-ZnEYcHkM0EmF4LVMVVpOQguA5AkwdKMIYzN_BAdWZByAqN3Nab0iFCeTw7HK15vQMlydaVrF-Ww4Pc_moB3x_3otpAsN1WGxAdNJtHRC-GSbyF49mLxnlm9KO58pdlc_4KnUSo/s600/Grand+Homes+of+Central+Valley+JP+Lane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEKRx-ZnEYcHkM0EmF4LVMVVpOQguA5AkwdKMIYzN_BAdWZByAqN3Nab0iFCeTw7HK15vQMlydaVrF-Ww4Pc_moB3x_3otpAsN1WGxAdNJtHRC-GSbyF49mLxnlm9KO58pdlc_4KnUSo/w400-h400/Grand+Homes+of+Central+Valley+JP+Lane.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Painting the Grand Homes of California's Central Valley by J.P. Lane</i></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">James spent nearly 2 years traveling, researching, and painting. The book covers 52 homes in 30 towns throughout the Central Valley with 20 architectural styles, painting tips, and even jokes. And just guess which home is included in the book? That's right, the home of my grandparents, Sig and Loraine Levy!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What a thrill to see the painting he did of their home.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5BuWcuVJn19p-586FDaIklk7o6vp-XZzSGaWeobV9jOR3QiL-LcmX_m5Hfqfu1TycptDdlH4-fJK5PdbXDG5OwDGGepHc2pW_UlwVh1FGWZsonKczBQyIb4BmkOH1PttjfVbq0FNkLA/s1428/Levy+House+JP+Lane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1428" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5BuWcuVJn19p-586FDaIklk7o6vp-XZzSGaWeobV9jOR3QiL-LcmX_m5Hfqfu1TycptDdlH4-fJK5PdbXDG5OwDGGepHc2pW_UlwVh1FGWZsonKczBQyIb4BmkOH1PttjfVbq0FNkLA/w400-h269/Levy+House+JP+Lane.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">James wrote:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i></i></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Sigmund Levy was the son of Herman Levy, who emigrated from Germany to Fresno and signed the Fresno City Charter, and mother Goldie Benas Levy. As a young man he was training to be a WWI Army Air Service when the armistice was signed and the war ended in 1918. Later in life he became a prominent real estate and insurance broker together with his brothers in the Fresno area. Herbert and Leon also lived in Wilson Island.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Sig and his wife Loraine had this Spanish Revival home built, which contains Monterey influences. It featured modern amenities for the 1930s and was shown in local newspapers and magazines of the day.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>The image I painted from the front makes this home look big, but the view from the side shows that it is immense! This is one impressive home.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Sources: "Wilson Island Stories of the 1900s: The Sigmund and Loraine Levy Home at 1549 Echo Avenue. Austen, Debi Levy.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Year Built: 1934</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Architectural Style: Spanish Revival</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Architect: Orville R. Taylor</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Builders: Taylor-Wheeler</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Visitor status: Private residence, please admire from afar.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>FUN FACT: The neighborhood is called Wilson "Island" because Rosanna created a few dead-end streets, essentially cutting off parts of the neighborhood from outside traffic (and riff-raff).</i></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><i></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">You can read some blog posts I've done about the house <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2014/11/speaking-of-houses.html" target="_blank">HERE</a> and <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2014/11/speaking-of-houses.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Within a day or two, I had another new friend reach out to connect. Turns out her father used to work at Levy Bros., the business of Sig and his brothers, Herb, Leon, and Ben. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDvUh4WewxTAQ1-CJBfh53VEc2F-8pL0SxoX7zhOXbZ9v6ByBRPBrpPbHYODIp7kyPyIlp3VOzXucUZS3A9c3A01ODLzgE9c0zzZ8FkW_TqEpXIhpr49yHO-LSrAmd0NGErYz0rPPwqU/s2048/Levy+Bros+Sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="2048" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDvUh4WewxTAQ1-CJBfh53VEc2F-8pL0SxoX7zhOXbZ9v6ByBRPBrpPbHYODIp7kyPyIlp3VOzXucUZS3A9c3A01ODLzgE9c0zzZ8FkW_TqEpXIhpr49yHO-LSrAmd0NGErYz0rPPwqU/w400-h291/Levy+Bros+Sign.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">We spent some time talking by phone and one thing led to another and when she told me how old she was, I figured out that she probably knew my parents which she did! My parents graduated from Fresno High School in 1944 and 1946 and she graduated in 1945. She remembered so many friends of my parents and she was so happy to reminisce. We've 'talked' a few times since and it's fun to share stories and pick her brain about Fresno history. She remembers hearing stories that her dad would tell when he came home from work in the 1930s-1940s.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXe4ahP_8KprjVMk1TTqw8q0o11A-R-hRB44LOh0PlWNcpVlboMMMAEDismKOMsk0fhtrLhxHucoD4xP2uaekXXBeSokwLYsvTnH2YuuOA6PDoEKvdeZvu7kYhelvWzmml9Q9U5Q-lPAM/s2003/Levy+Bros+Office+1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1341" data-original-width="2003" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXe4ahP_8KprjVMk1TTqw8q0o11A-R-hRB44LOh0PlWNcpVlboMMMAEDismKOMsk0fhtrLhxHucoD4xP2uaekXXBeSokwLYsvTnH2YuuOA6PDoEKvdeZvu7kYhelvWzmml9Q9U5Q-lPAM/w400-h268/Levy+Bros+Office+1920.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Levy Bros. office, c. 1920, Sig Levy on right</i></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm so <i>thankful </i>that I was able to connect with new friends!</div><div><br /><p><br /></p></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-49657994873301977972021-11-21T13:38:00.001-08:002021-11-21T17:03:35.200-08:0052 Ancestors: Birthdays - We all have 'em!<p>This week's blog prompt brought back many memories of birthdays, both mine and those of others. So here are some special birthdays in photos.</p><p>Of course, probably the most memorable to a family is a baby's first birthday - not that the birthday boy or girl has any memory of it, though. But thanks to my photographer wannabe Dad, at least I have some photos of my special day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3O4AEjUtNFmQXuXutNOfGp40OtknocPttXVqf3IMJXYF68wAhbBOixo_zbV09ZiD-0TV5m5-9u0PZq2Cb0SHeYL5tTM8RdTpC-Gp73_eSCyGw9zp6sEbF8lfQw1THm3AhXne12vyaZI/s1051/Debi+1st+birthday+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1051" data-original-width="1036" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3O4AEjUtNFmQXuXutNOfGp40OtknocPttXVqf3IMJXYF68wAhbBOixo_zbV09ZiD-0TV5m5-9u0PZq2Cb0SHeYL5tTM8RdTpC-Gp73_eSCyGw9zp6sEbF8lfQw1THm3AhXne12vyaZI/w394-h400/Debi+1st+birthday+2.jpg" width="394" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Keep your hands off, Deb!</span></i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwRXPIelKKFuahh_dujQmxBbtDAkhFE5oFnPYb55JsBQqL90fOLKz1uPN2alFUQrxAWAvMCjRvDtmnA4wiFHE__usroucbkHyu8ACbpIz2deK1o3TkW8TDBq9rovrspS8dMsLiOOi0I0/s1056/Debi+1st+Birthday.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1025" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwRXPIelKKFuahh_dujQmxBbtDAkhFE5oFnPYb55JsBQqL90fOLKz1uPN2alFUQrxAWAvMCjRvDtmnA4wiFHE__usroucbkHyu8ACbpIz2deK1o3TkW8TDBq9rovrspS8dMsLiOOi0I0/w389-h400/Debi+1st+Birthday.jpg" width="389" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">But it tastes so good!</span></i></div></i><p>And here's my second birthday. Dad labeled this photo on the front so in the interest of privacy, I've cropped it in order to delete the names. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWuophT6-8mxOOuZ5dst1YD4KG6eBD8PYCQ6Dgc3yKeMhLQ1c0DZrDmvGzcAGmQHcfcedPPTab2zjNGXYxyP5jr2cz8U8SyHUOZHo4VQMiHnyrmtY_QVBOVw4GW9ACaj3CVWYLCsKVvwQ/s974/2nd+Birthday+cropped.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="974" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWuophT6-8mxOOuZ5dst1YD4KG6eBD8PYCQ6Dgc3yKeMhLQ1c0DZrDmvGzcAGmQHcfcedPPTab2zjNGXYxyP5jr2cz8U8SyHUOZHo4VQMiHnyrmtY_QVBOVw4GW9ACaj3CVWYLCsKVvwQ/w400-h272/2nd+Birthday+cropped.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">SP, Sister, TJ, Me</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since my sister is older, of course I wasn't around for her 1st birthday but Dad took care of that for us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCSDkE997ZMVSGvWh6RwweaeNjaMgf3eC2bIYqTOcqJVSEp5XPYOFT1iOhWiN4oXwkWaUtWjTqb25SHHryY5_olfVr88BRMmwf8TXztdRW4-c7iLMrkZuBH30ztmjYkVeouVH0Yi4WHE/s1450/Cary+1st+birthday.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1450" data-original-width="998" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCSDkE997ZMVSGvWh6RwweaeNjaMgf3eC2bIYqTOcqJVSEp5XPYOFT1iOhWiN4oXwkWaUtWjTqb25SHHryY5_olfVr88BRMmwf8TXztdRW4-c7iLMrkZuBH30ztmjYkVeouVH0Yi4WHE/w275-h400/Cary+1st+birthday.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One of my favorite family photos is one that my dad titled "<i>the greatest photo ever taken</i>". I've shared it before but it's too good not to share again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfHeZsoJ1O9w_oDwOgm8l_LWIyelALVCKan8PKjdB2jhXA6IPEzPSDkB0kSzuJjQRecF8dCxXjEAQii9RIWhG8upRq92ucFq7fMFFesvnDDCibh2vA5MkrlM4y1VF5eoEXhMrtDH9ejw/s1447/Greatest+Photo+Ever+1957.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1236" data-original-width="1447" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfHeZsoJ1O9w_oDwOgm8l_LWIyelALVCKan8PKjdB2jhXA6IPEzPSDkB0kSzuJjQRecF8dCxXjEAQii9RIWhG8upRq92ucFq7fMFFesvnDDCibh2vA5MkrlM4y1VF5eoEXhMrtDH9ejw/w400-h341/Greatest+Photo+Ever+1957.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Big sister's 5th birthday</span></i></div></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>I haven't run across any of my brother's first birthday, or really any others, but I did come up with this group shot. And I'm happy to say that I can identify a few of these kids. For those of you from my childhood, you might still be in touch with the girl on the right in the middle row. Big brothers Tim and Sam.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrJ1Av-3u0_dwkueia2Vun_HIuTyxiOxfuneFohMXfarecyVcW9HCTVXO5ov89heA2y-qidQ8q03l52C8cwkGTpBC6IBW29gAnOOqzodyIRnp6RKDHnH85VJ5I3fB5QV2VsfsxyL6P7A/s1056/Doug+Party.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="1056" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrJ1Av-3u0_dwkueia2Vun_HIuTyxiOxfuneFohMXfarecyVcW9HCTVXO5ov89heA2y-qidQ8q03l52C8cwkGTpBC6IBW29gAnOOqzodyIRnp6RKDHnH85VJ5I3fB5QV2VsfsxyL6P7A/w400-h394/Doug+Party.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Brother is middle kid, front row. Maybe 4th or 5th birthday?</i></span></div><br /><div><div><p>I even have a few of my dad to share. My grandmother was kind enough to label this as his 2nd birthday. What a cutie patootie!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntlB9PqEgUA3f2UAdQihDoizuoVjj2GVk9iuQja6a2RwPOPdnyEwYQc1Bg-ZZbkdc2TS3JTeez9stNw4csVvbK6ujCqJnvkbJQH-z7aQofnFpzsdvEu4XSLEicjgXF3p596hpq4d_5bI/s1138/Gordon+February+11+1929.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1138" data-original-width="685" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntlB9PqEgUA3f2UAdQihDoizuoVjj2GVk9iuQja6a2RwPOPdnyEwYQc1Bg-ZZbkdc2TS3JTeez9stNw4csVvbK6ujCqJnvkbJQH-z7aQofnFpzsdvEu4XSLEicjgXF3p596hpq4d_5bI/w241-h400/Gordon+February+11+1929.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Gordon Levy, 11 February 1929</span></i></div></i></div><div><br /></div><div>Mom threw a big party for his 50th birthday - do I remember it was a surprise? No matter what, he was thrilled to celebrate!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgSvapZDVQlqRdkJk8j2uSHEw38cJpafL34Bxe95AKw8dXLOeTr5wejRxjNOAGpMP7EhR0enhs33efILBQdB3MOPpJ3Tw_ACUJ8jNfdPKIOW9rswmq3LTspsB9cua4_J84hAfeXqkYPI/s1273/Gordon+2_1977.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1026" data-original-width="1273" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgSvapZDVQlqRdkJk8j2uSHEw38cJpafL34Bxe95AKw8dXLOeTr5wejRxjNOAGpMP7EhR0enhs33efILBQdB3MOPpJ3Tw_ACUJ8jNfdPKIOW9rswmq3LTspsB9cua4_J84hAfeXqkYPI/w400-h323/Gordon+2_1977.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Looks like one candle per decade</i></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>One last photo that has become a classic in our family. I learned the hard way that even though my girls have birthdays only one day apart, they must each have their own cake. Sharing is hard to do!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8e2QlZ93lf1xFeQ188yTHE0yCoOFbiO3utN-Wq2N3dNythtYGC0FUWabK4tBqL5qzJOp628rrfukwdKfiRn_e8P5ul7wGDakst8BYFZolSusDoh88liy6U8DD06aj5hc1Z_3eHKcITkk/s972/1980+w+cake.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="972" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8e2QlZ93lf1xFeQ188yTHE0yCoOFbiO3utN-Wq2N3dNythtYGC0FUWabK4tBqL5qzJOp628rrfukwdKfiRn_e8P5ul7wGDakst8BYFZolSusDoh88liy6U8DD06aj5hc1Z_3eHKcITkk/w400-h328/1980+w+cake.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Was Ernie not the preferred character or was sharing the cake the probl</span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;">em?</span></div></i><div><br /></div><div>Birthdays - we all have 'em! And when my birthday rolls around in just a few short weeks, I'll be thankful that I've had another one.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-19461871957038002072021-11-14T13:50:00.000-08:002021-11-14T13:50:15.079-08:0052 Ancestors: Stormy Weather - Snow!<p>For most of the country, snow isn't an unusual event and people, particularly adults, dread winter arriving because of snow. </p><p>But I grew up in San Jose, about 40 miles south of San Francisco, where snow is something kids (and I'm sure, secretly, adults) wished for. Almost every year we were severely disappointed but on January 21, 1962, the unexpected happened and it SNOWED! It was an event worthy of the front page of the Oakland Tribune the following day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXWFZ-Jma56mkbY1AuWk1BmANuoXlv_7ax2RphXSmqAT1_d4egypstR0el0lMXqn-mE9EVKs5HVQLiP8V1FPEUsqS4DcClIKvaKzTjXsBf3HnzieXEHbH5b0vnGa4wGw71oBXLBJmPBI/s1899/Bay+Area+Snow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1899" data-original-width="654" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXWFZ-Jma56mkbY1AuWk1BmANuoXlv_7ax2RphXSmqAT1_d4egypstR0el0lMXqn-mE9EVKs5HVQLiP8V1FPEUsqS4DcClIKvaKzTjXsBf3HnzieXEHbH5b0vnGa4wGw71oBXLBJmPBI/w220-h640/Bay+Area+Snow.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Oakland Tribune, January 22, 1962, page 1</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>I remember waking up that Sunday morning and running outside to see for myself. Sure enough, there was a light dusting of the white stuff on our front lawn. Somewhere I remember seeing a photo of my mom standing there but because my memory says she was in her bathrobe, maybe it's a good thing I can't put my hands on that photo now.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I found a few photos and this one from that day in San Bruno shows the amount of snow I remember. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGIhT_qOeAyDrm5etTYlpqHO-0y83bnBcH-ewD2WJeW7Oxm-rUPYLcEg7-nWlb1DUTsNYHTHXQhNjB-vQbRHCJqCYlAO8v_wksNj5H6bAMCAAB3nJ1gzCxSRndRr0RbkIIWt7pU1T8HT8/s480/Snow+1962.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="480" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGIhT_qOeAyDrm5etTYlpqHO-0y83bnBcH-ewD2WJeW7Oxm-rUPYLcEg7-nWlb1DUTsNYHTHXQhNjB-vQbRHCJqCYlAO8v_wksNj5H6bAMCAAB3nJ1gzCxSRndRr0RbkIIWt7pU1T8HT8/w400-h313/Snow+1962.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>I really don't have memories of going to the snow as a child but as I looked through my dad's slides, I found proof that we did, in fact, have at least one visit.</div><div><br /></div><div>Not much snow here!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Udem59Uis4UiP9IWrFkxsajSRkQ9xBBUInhiCZjDesrUOlvRwqskpqieEeOAPHDrKKA1pM2GV3w5SZHzTuSxRMyWacFJxivhs_4JD6n-eCTfWma8TU6g9Si6o1WXEzV_lTJBpII0Wnw/s906/Page+11+-+Yosemite+1958+DebiLevy_GerryLevy_CaryLevy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="883" data-original-width="906" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Udem59Uis4UiP9IWrFkxsajSRkQ9xBBUInhiCZjDesrUOlvRwqskpqieEeOAPHDrKKA1pM2GV3w5SZHzTuSxRMyWacFJxivhs_4JD6n-eCTfWma8TU6g9Si6o1WXEzV_lTJBpII0Wnw/w400-h390/Page+11+-+Yosemite+1958+DebiLevy_GerryLevy_CaryLevy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Yosemite, 1958</i></div></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;"><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Big sister explored and found a little more.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcEFIJ6_U_r7ZCKVqW8vwcfLAAAkNpnkFnfZgL6oolajzcsyNTnC3Lv99GBBgHfj2inoLfBAtHFx__MEYHghyF7_mt9z6yHazBWR_Dbe-CqArPhIggnL-5inZZHpqNn97HzanpNKNSsw/s884/Page+11+-+Yosemite+1958+CaryLevy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="860" data-original-width="884" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcEFIJ6_U_r7ZCKVqW8vwcfLAAAkNpnkFnfZgL6oolajzcsyNTnC3Lv99GBBgHfj2inoLfBAtHFx__MEYHghyF7_mt9z6yHazBWR_Dbe-CqArPhIggnL-5inZZHpqNn97HzanpNKNSsw/w400-h389/Page+11+-+Yosemite+1958+CaryLevy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I don't know when or where this was but it goes to show you that Dad had some photography "issues" and often times the subject lost all or part of their head.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1yAkfVSS-2DXANXS-vG1wi7mQbC8l9vjV_vI9zNVCmI3-c32TREt26pQqmKSPMKaXijtEx8QP4KpRaZOthuF6Cbgd259EzU_d0-Mj17DubUchZwqTf9B7UNncjvd3isxyOMICGMBKoE/s5728/IMG00053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3824" data-original-width="5728" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1yAkfVSS-2DXANXS-vG1wi7mQbC8l9vjV_vI9zNVCmI3-c32TREt26pQqmKSPMKaXijtEx8QP4KpRaZOthuF6Cbgd259EzU_d0-Mj17DubUchZwqTf9B7UNncjvd3isxyOMICGMBKoE/w400-h268/IMG00053.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Big Sis, Me</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not sure where this was but by my brother's age, I'd guess it to be about 1964.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWGXxrm7ajH_963entVKVpcrG2zCr9z0m0kj53qeXwm_NxNmOFjaA0NEn8hdY0cZrGNexuKURnLfOhKukZKxvPrROPYwOA6inpn6Ft-cinIJQl1i1dd_PeX9ssaEN4t_ZxZNNqzv1_nM/s5728/IMG00552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3824" data-original-width="5728" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWGXxrm7ajH_963entVKVpcrG2zCr9z0m0kj53qeXwm_NxNmOFjaA0NEn8hdY0cZrGNexuKURnLfOhKukZKxvPrROPYwOA6inpn6Ft-cinIJQl1i1dd_PeX9ssaEN4t_ZxZNNqzv1_nM/w400-h268/IMG00552.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Did I really try to ski? I do remember going as a teenager and after one trip down the hill I vowed I would never try that again. And I haven't!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvibVTVMvvIcHkMC5ynthTBZOYpY7jFyuIdW70NHnwSkwPsh93Oo5B7nlIFc2Et4szbIVDzz7UoH6jL2kvUoHpjv7yD01okmO8f-b5VlpgTox9G93x209TzSk8D-D__y9eo2CfUssqVA/s5728/IMG00553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3824" data-original-width="5728" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvibVTVMvvIcHkMC5ynthTBZOYpY7jFyuIdW70NHnwSkwPsh93Oo5B7nlIFc2Et4szbIVDzz7UoH6jL2kvUoHpjv7yD01okmO8f-b5VlpgTox9G93x209TzSk8D-D__y9eo2CfUssqVA/w400-h268/IMG00553.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Being that my parents and all grandparents/great grandparents grew up in California, I don't have many photos of any of them in the snow. But my paternal grandfather, Sig Levy, must have strayed away from Fresno at least once to play in the snow.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdVyFiYa_DuwjXQikFZZX4A3PuJEj16gvWGxcF8UFEENErGDcDEqnuTKYfUlZP6mbQzVvbeaE8FTFe5-FbX7JSSVrxn9Hrui3XjFAcUB0XSleM3VPv_CYlCrgCSlqsXptLXxsdqox6Wc/s1225/Sig+Snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1225" data-original-width="1137" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdVyFiYa_DuwjXQikFZZX4A3PuJEj16gvWGxcF8UFEENErGDcDEqnuTKYfUlZP6mbQzVvbeaE8FTFe5-FbX7JSSVrxn9Hrui3XjFAcUB0XSleM3VPv_CYlCrgCSlqsXptLXxsdqox6Wc/w371-h400/Sig+Snow.jpg" width="371" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>That's a big snowball!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7cMONpMXl6TScK322fKY3vQs1vrN949CCccnCo3KyA-wCZ0egro9MH05ot4Wqh1xMcCX257SvNxDSQaRjbAfh1MTqKgU5bj9lsDki6yzCpqLXiitXizz9JxrgrWIEF_qbgm98EU1ajLg/s995/Sig+Snowball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="994" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7cMONpMXl6TScK322fKY3vQs1vrN949CCccnCo3KyA-wCZ0egro9MH05ot4Wqh1xMcCX257SvNxDSQaRjbAfh1MTqKgU5bj9lsDki6yzCpqLXiitXizz9JxrgrWIEF_qbgm98EU1ajLg/w400-h400/Sig+Snowball.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Now that we live in Washington, we see snow more than I'd like but it does provide a peaceful and beautiful setting. Just keep me off the roads!<br /><div><br /></div><div> </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-33694134111139382142021-11-07T13:02:00.001-08:002021-11-07T13:02:52.651-08:0052 Ancestors: Voting - Gordon Levy, President<p>I'm not sure if my dad, Gordon Levy, didn't talk much about the past or I just didn't listen. Actually, I think he <i>DID</i> talk about it but once he realized we weren't listening, he gave up. But one thing I do remember him talking about was his service as Student Body President at Fresno High School in the fall of 1943.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRb_dADfqsMhTEAYJY30-QBbYGbrHdkvblZrohr7AfA5DVF4d49fUaB-28HRNyreq9nKr2ArNk0xCieBghCQRcWSCdf3AEGD-0BfP-WeYySVavEyMwsbBAFshpAmCRh8k8MKLw05mYgGE/s1177/Gordon+Levy+Letterman+Sweater+c1944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1177" data-original-width="753" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRb_dADfqsMhTEAYJY30-QBbYGbrHdkvblZrohr7AfA5DVF4d49fUaB-28HRNyreq9nKr2ArNk0xCieBghCQRcWSCdf3AEGD-0BfP-WeYySVavEyMwsbBAFshpAmCRh8k8MKLw05mYgGE/w485-h640/Gordon+Levy+Letterman+Sweater+c1944.jpg" width="485" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Gordon Levy, c1943</i></div></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;">Notice the Block "F" on his sweater signifying Fresno High School</i></div><p>Dad was involved in many, many things in school and throughout his life - he loved serving his classmates and his community. But I don't think he was as proud of anything as he was of his service to Fresno High School as President of the Student Body.</p><p>I know that he was one of three nominees for the position. What I don't know is how these individuals were 'selected' to run - was there some type of nominating process or, like it was when I was in school, did these individuals just decide they wanted to run and away they went?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHx_lHUvsDUosk9B_DEJ073KOs_j8sWymb7Wl4T8rnm2iy9f1sA7fuoldNJagh8RAVxnAajUzI2nK0XBn2Ws_P8mwjXkwRbBYIeciozCYzLKZkbfpG_igdpwq9HSMiVkE3xDjjVmMjfcg/s694/Gordon+Levy+nominated+Fresno_Bee+5_29_43+pg+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="629" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHx_lHUvsDUosk9B_DEJ073KOs_j8sWymb7Wl4T8rnm2iy9f1sA7fuoldNJagh8RAVxnAajUzI2nK0XBn2Ws_P8mwjXkwRbBYIeciozCYzLKZkbfpG_igdpwq9HSMiVkE3xDjjVmMjfcg/w363-h400/Gordon+Levy+nominated+Fresno_Bee+5_29_43+pg+9.jpg" width="363" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fresno Bee, 29 May, 1943, page 9</span></i></div></i><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>And not just because Dad told us he'd won and there was lots of evidence to that effect, The Fresno Bee actually reported this. Those were sure different times!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTjCadwnT1gCE9ZK68bqL5w6k3VkaNLUSdASQbHTW9skwRKSMzTLtL2wRj6a7AiSZ2eCefyS1Bqo-HwuLF8lOnwz49Ux9iR-zqEnVNSEgBV0HodJ6qAmT2WOZdbQP86Bh-EBX3YbNWXY/s866/Fresno+High+Chooses+New+Leaders+Fresno_Bee+6_3_1943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="866" data-original-width="624" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTjCadwnT1gCE9ZK68bqL5w6k3VkaNLUSdASQbHTW9skwRKSMzTLtL2wRj6a7AiSZ2eCefyS1Bqo-HwuLF8lOnwz49Ux9iR-zqEnVNSEgBV0HodJ6qAmT2WOZdbQP86Bh-EBX3YbNWXY/w289-h400/Fresno+High+Chooses+New+Leaders+Fresno_Bee+6_3_1943.jpg" width="289" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Fresno Bee, 3 June, 1943, page 17</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>And the following year, The Owl (Fresno High's yearbook) confirmed that these individuals were, indeed, officers of the student body.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKcdJgvzpT8kkutEWt3EkVBXLd7D_pHHc6HIFv_GHD5FSzjmHXkigk9jyZKeCCaXwVS8eeuBagJZ7WSWvrF44B5OcB4APJtEIRF-Xujc-yJIXDupbWXqOdGdLhYBhd78e3cvrxO4wwQY/s1800/Fall+President.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="1800" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKcdJgvzpT8kkutEWt3EkVBXLd7D_pHHc6HIFv_GHD5FSzjmHXkigk9jyZKeCCaXwVS8eeuBagJZ7WSWvrF44B5OcB4APJtEIRF-Xujc-yJIXDupbWXqOdGdLhYBhd78e3cvrxO4wwQY/w400-h189/Fall+President.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>From The Owl:</div><blockquote><div><i><u>Executive Committee Fall Semester</u></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>With a platform of better rallies and assemblies and more interest in student body government, President Gordon Levy began the semester by appointing a hard working executive committee, which gave the administration a flying start.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>The committee made two wise choices when it appointed Peggy Kohlmann commissioner of social affairs and Roger Burton to the position of yell leader. John Hammel, commissioner of finance, headed the Senate sponsored war bond campaign which succeeded in winning Treasury Department citations for the school and its senior and sophomore classes.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>The hope for increased interest in student body activities was furthered with weekly ex-committee bulletins and the Beef Box which gave students an opportunity to express personal viewpoints. The social program of noon dances was enlarged by two evening dances which proved extremely successful.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Two portions of the by-laws to the constitution were amended. One provided for a life pass awarded to all athletes earning four major letters whereas the other authorized a student body Gold Block F award to one boy and one girl of each graduating class.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>To better visualize membership in the student body, the committee voted to provide free student body membership cards which proved to be conducive to school spirit. The committee also became permanently situated in room S-26 where all rally and executive meetings are now held.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>At the opening of the semester, President Levy managed to come to terms with the Roosevelt High School student body, a fact which resulted in resumption of relations between the schools on November 11, probably the high spot of student cooperation.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Vice President Lowell Aiken and Rally Chairman Vergil Gerard instituted student talent assemblies and achieved the goal of one assembly per week. George Holstein, dean of boys, helped to increase faculty co-operation as activities sponsor.</i></div></blockquote><div><i></i>It was nice to read about the improved relations between Roosevelt High School and Fresno High School in the Fresno Bee. From the account in the article, <i>"the long rivalry of the schools came to an abrupt end last Fall when the two principals recommended to Wilson that competitive events cease because of cases of vandalism and 'near sabotage' involving students of both schools and resulting from 'heated spirit' generated by the 1941 and last Fall's football games."</i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxR7vs37aBzwdMs3rN00pZKz_LwEZ9wbOuk6bHWIXoMRbXrHWQ9mZeciLhGCFtQmrNW1xMad_xJTjmZjq6lEeuL2Anq-16fd0tI47TaLczS31mhTl8X9QdM-7QzfQ-OqCYbk_JFBTPK0/s1355/Ban+on+Athletics+Lifted+Fresno+Bee+9_16_43+pg+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="953" data-original-width="1355" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxR7vs37aBzwdMs3rN00pZKz_LwEZ9wbOuk6bHWIXoMRbXrHWQ9mZeciLhGCFtQmrNW1xMad_xJTjmZjq6lEeuL2Anq-16fd0tI47TaLczS31mhTl8X9QdM-7QzfQ-OqCYbk_JFBTPK0/w400-h281/Ban+on+Athletics+Lifted+Fresno+Bee+9_16_43+pg+18.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fresno Bee, 16 Sep 1943, page 18</span></i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfMa8lmAkzhv1G4Un9JiquJl6s9G5DXjEfBqwnfFusNSmKwqkmxPFNBoijO402cle2gLSjcTigQQhMePtIBmy-5xewJnpEghl1j2iSGWc0mLBR4PbSgxlFTd-gUjTPuo0EXJWpIc4koo/s807/Students+Back+Action+Fresno+Bee+9_16_43+pg+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="707" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfMa8lmAkzhv1G4Un9JiquJl6s9G5DXjEfBqwnfFusNSmKwqkmxPFNBoijO402cle2gLSjcTigQQhMePtIBmy-5xewJnpEghl1j2iSGWc0mLBR4PbSgxlFTd-gUjTPuo0EXJWpIc4koo/w350-h400/Students+Back+Action+Fresno+Bee+9_16_43+pg+18.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fresno Bee, 16 Sep 1943, page 18</span></i></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Also in the 1944 edition of The Owl, this photo was included.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1uqeJSvqEDx_93j5s9a4WV6BOedDRboXX4IIE16Huk2Bx2Uhkh27MY4bncpp0UsWrjdYRcYMKChRbvzj9luUA2slbBZUqKwnVafge5wBYNFbDdCb-QbZNVtin6YVRem2YfXnoOWR1wiU/s1753/Fall+Student+Body+The+Owl+1943_1944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="982" data-original-width="1753" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1uqeJSvqEDx_93j5s9a4WV6BOedDRboXX4IIE16Huk2Bx2Uhkh27MY4bncpp0UsWrjdYRcYMKChRbvzj9luUA2slbBZUqKwnVafge5wBYNFbDdCb-QbZNVtin6YVRem2YfXnoOWR1wiU/w400-h224/Fall+Student+Body+The+Owl+1943_1944.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">That's Dad in the middle of the front row holding.....holding.... WHAT? He's holding this????</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9z4FPJ7T28DBs6eK87pesXIMTq5tz4ih9zySyETZf9dpNS8agT9zFauRHHINy1ubusFU-CP9r1lc2R1dUSfmjx84DA4oyaMJL0ADFrtPxQRLuMuZJvwvIIh8kAF2zkqsinHUseW4Hzw/s2048/President+Gavel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9z4FPJ7T28DBs6eK87pesXIMTq5tz4ih9zySyETZf9dpNS8agT9zFauRHHINy1ubusFU-CP9r1lc2R1dUSfmjx84DA4oyaMJL0ADFrtPxQRLuMuZJvwvIIh8kAF2zkqsinHUseW4Hzw/w400-h300/President+Gavel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENe358doXDpB8nIhuDR42l2-VwaoYic2lQ03e2godOmG8WpgrslNk_2t_TfU-9xrMPvxLeqwpr-YLihlBqexLjRNoQZ8uixyIOZG2yIoaT2jbpGBvpbUbpmo3QFOUO9plx2-HnwMxC9k/s2048/President+Gavel+Closeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENe358doXDpB8nIhuDR42l2-VwaoYic2lQ03e2godOmG8WpgrslNk_2t_TfU-9xrMPvxLeqwpr-YLihlBqexLjRNoQZ8uixyIOZG2yIoaT2jbpGBvpbUbpmo3QFOUO9plx2-HnwMxC9k/w400-h300/President+Gavel+Closeup.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>When we put together the memorial service after he died, I remember choosing some photos and other mementos to put on a table for attendees to view as they entered and exited the synagogue. I don't remember many of the details but I do remember that this gavel was displayed - instinctively, we must have all known just how important it was to him. Who knew?</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-13142543368750194782021-10-24T10:57:00.001-07:002021-12-28T10:24:26.430-08:0052 Ancestors: Sports - Ardee News Sports Reporter<p>My dad, Gordon Levy, was the sports reporter for the Ardee News in 1946. He talked about his time writing for them but until recently, I thought he was referring to the RD News. Oh how I wished I'd spent some time talking about it with him.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4NO7ME7Vt1pwwSYv6z19o0hJWVxEMdxfYxU8KO_YJrSPwQzsK0rDPiMyYUB9wASXLH3-HVpG_kFd_hBKjUPLeX_aKL678_uttuFH4KS8cQsvIDbGxSpcnVV6W9XICA8xeJVUW3ZY8-c/s895/The+Ardee+News+star+reporter+is+on+the+job.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="895" data-original-width="625" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4NO7ME7Vt1pwwSYv6z19o0hJWVxEMdxfYxU8KO_YJrSPwQzsK0rDPiMyYUB9wASXLH3-HVpG_kFd_hBKjUPLeX_aKL678_uttuFH4KS8cQsvIDbGxSpcnVV6W9XICA8xeJVUW3ZY8-c/w279-h400/The+Ardee+News+star+reporter+is+on+the+job.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Ardee News star reporter is on the job</span></i></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">On February 6, 1946, Dad wrote home to his parents from his post at Furstenfeldbruck, Germany - or as he sometimes called it, "Firstandthirdbase".</div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><i></i></p><blockquote><i>Our little paper (one of which was
mailed to you the other day) has finally undergone an organization which made
one of the veterans an editor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In turn,
the new ed made me sports chief – which should pan out pretty nicely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later on in the spring and summer, they are
planning on a large sports program here which will include everything from
track to baseball to swimming and ping pong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So we should have quite a bit of fun trying to build up interest –
that’s right up our alley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe one of
these days I’ll take Harry Truman’s place as man of the year on Time’s cover.</i></blockquote><i><o:p></o:p></i><p></p><p></p><p>He left me a few of the "papers", although it's confusing to me that these are from mid-January, 1946 and his letters home stated he arrived in Furstenfeldbruck on January 24. Maybe these papers were published en route? Or maybe the Wooster Booster was a separate publication from the Ardee News?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReX9EHX5bRhyZamMztAvUQl_D1U4kIjPEKicS5ZmWBm5dSVtZUtSP0v4sQqTy7W34imYP5sq5ezuZa_ll0Af-TAAJgPYWrzg__0V5vyCdxCSA-k3Q2xQbNwDeJ1jtKkwknmiAJiqHofU/s2048/Wooster+Booster+1_9_1946+page+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1413" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReX9EHX5bRhyZamMztAvUQl_D1U4kIjPEKicS5ZmWBm5dSVtZUtSP0v4sQqTy7W34imYP5sq5ezuZa_ll0Af-TAAJgPYWrzg__0V5vyCdxCSA-k3Q2xQbNwDeJ1jtKkwknmiAJiqHofU/w276-h400/Wooster+Booster+1_9_1946+page+1.jpg" width="276" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Wooster Booster, January 9, 1946</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's hard to read but at the bottom left it shows a list of the staff and shows Dad as Editor. Hmmmm.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfZSZN0-lsBWO5uHOnQJkh8SStXT0apN3aUmjk_29Hxtt0b8kunrnqj6H1OhhQ4CMr7jNeDQppkVGS9wvcJ03nTVLkGFPxdH0f1I2KFlXyZG5P3UGDpa6O2v_4je5zSLVBf5Bc3XbTCQ/s2048/Wooster+Booster+1_9_1946+page+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfZSZN0-lsBWO5uHOnQJkh8SStXT0apN3aUmjk_29Hxtt0b8kunrnqj6H1OhhQ4CMr7jNeDQppkVGS9wvcJ03nTVLkGFPxdH0f1I2KFlXyZG5P3UGDpa6O2v_4je5zSLVBf5Bc3XbTCQ/w281-h400/Wooster+Booster+1_9_1946+page+2.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And, of course, my photographer-wannabe father had to take pictures (with captions!) Boy, I'm glad he did! Here's a few.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgON8axrV-s6mCLYMiKN4JBJ67CB6QZEnaldWpPK9o-cS68rc0k9w-9OAcuGn-ZWqyfpNwiSKpESZfwqSk2scHFr4l5q5fBmUhrMsOcX2wx9P3nJOyXAvH_MgHU5eyRfE9P7KUTatam1_Q/s949/These+were+the+Eagles.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="949" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgON8axrV-s6mCLYMiKN4JBJ67CB6QZEnaldWpPK9o-cS68rc0k9w-9OAcuGn-ZWqyfpNwiSKpESZfwqSk2scHFr4l5q5fBmUhrMsOcX2wx9P3nJOyXAvH_MgHU5eyRfE9P7KUTatam1_Q/w400-h284/These+were+the+Eagles.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>These were the Eagles</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5F2V_Au79JfXuI9Ba7DhQlqidFhopzKYKYvsuwSbo9eRAdRNByHLWhP3nwYbbUqfCcynU4S4bF3hcE6tW70xxebbN3qITKaXjYK5LLEUhyphenhyphenOYisECYHLKF-yb-Tm4KEGvMR8L-O5cW4VA/s1330/Bibich+Field+on+opening+day.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1009" data-original-width="1330" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5F2V_Au79JfXuI9Ba7DhQlqidFhopzKYKYvsuwSbo9eRAdRNByHLWhP3nwYbbUqfCcynU4S4bF3hcE6tW70xxebbN3qITKaXjYK5LLEUhyphenhyphenOYisECYHLKF-yb-Tm4KEGvMR8L-O5cW4VA/w400-h304/Bibich+Field+on+opening+day.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Babich Field on opening day</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM3IRt0ftOe1nnleaAFM_pePh6opfjluxvEM0LRDSDwTo6g-EP80nDA_66Zgxd3DfEVLHaDFN8vUN40BrlWKy0-U3l3lI34sBCGyFnBROVD5zK21NJr4XWOaY3BDBnvEGnImQIlzFL0o/s1111/Galloway+Johnson+Nardozzi+Dill+%2527we+always+play+hard%2527.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="1111" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM3IRt0ftOe1nnleaAFM_pePh6opfjluxvEM0LRDSDwTo6g-EP80nDA_66Zgxd3DfEVLHaDFN8vUN40BrlWKy0-U3l3lI34sBCGyFnBROVD5zK21NJr4XWOaY3BDBnvEGnImQIlzFL0o/w400-h271/Galloway+Johnson+Nardozzi+Dill+%2527we+always+play+hard%2527.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>We always play hard</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9NxxrMkNxbHe89cFvime4G5MB3s5FTi7qQ5AGpIjB0LqzD4h4WowPO0ZOhVcC9emZU6MOR060L2VECuwjXngsAb1vK1RG33M1NxQiztLHbZ0i7TC5JgBO53v-a8H3Yu140FeMOfvcwJ0/s1033/Jungle+press+box%252C+constructed+for+Ardee+News++%2527good+afternoon+baseball+fans%2527.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="1033" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9NxxrMkNxbHe89cFvime4G5MB3s5FTi7qQ5AGpIjB0LqzD4h4WowPO0ZOhVcC9emZU6MOR060L2VECuwjXngsAb1vK1RG33M1NxQiztLHbZ0i7TC5JgBO53v-a8H3Yu140FeMOfvcwJ0/w400-h255/Jungle+press+box%252C+constructed+for+Ardee+News++%2527good+afternoon+baseball+fans%2527.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Jungle press box, constructed for Ardee News 'good afternoon baseball fans'</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMrtQAejjTDGNVdM1UGoyTPPnH0eZGgxSPXAomeshfEpdcClIKOjC1whFVHmYPWyQuC7-1fSWrpKCynfZwxwtreyWFaYxqTZ689PDjHVXQcapIWlFPb2hmrkia8pTlfQLrQpRinGyoUY/s1097/Mike+Kusiak+%2528left%2529+and+Andy+Tomaso+man+the+giant+Bibich+Field+scoreboard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="721" data-original-width="1097" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMrtQAejjTDGNVdM1UGoyTPPnH0eZGgxSPXAomeshfEpdcClIKOjC1whFVHmYPWyQuC7-1fSWrpKCynfZwxwtreyWFaYxqTZ689PDjHVXQcapIWlFPb2hmrkia8pTlfQLrQpRinGyoUY/w400-h263/Mike+Kusiak+%2528left%2529+and+Andy+Tomaso+man+the+giant+Bibich+Field+scoreboard.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Giant Babich Field scoreboard</i></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't just baseball - here's the Soldier's Field pool.</div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmS12NVQDay0bV-98WcgX64XH8IjFbsbUCZOdr4LTIs_m4I4yF5T3UYs5puai1Xc_95Nrpo8yIUTRkpaMpoGHIhsi8i24tXyHjMyhadVF5oqQCuuWLx1_gzANB6JRMre2oLawrVd7lhSM/s1130/Soldiers+field+pool.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="755" data-original-width="1130" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmS12NVQDay0bV-98WcgX64XH8IjFbsbUCZOdr4LTIs_m4I4yF5T3UYs5puai1Xc_95Nrpo8yIUTRkpaMpoGHIhsi8i24tXyHjMyhadVF5oqQCuuWLx1_gzANB6JRMre2oLawrVd7lhSM/w400-h268/Soldiers+field+pool.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">And track stadium in Nurnberg. This field was the scene of Hitler's pageants and in 1946 was owned and operated by the 26th Infantry Blue Spades.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibygVQ4w3eDjxawSgmu4YkPH5gag4I3xgpMk6jvxETApgw6kKPqUmyVWkqTE7wyYZDUUnaObAO9zYOM0m91XBQ3ZEXOOJ0RqFv80x5sXatqJKPxrk8AliqlK490riAOSOOUcrGlffQJME/s1125/Nurnberg+Soldiers+Field.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="1125" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibygVQ4w3eDjxawSgmu4YkPH5gag4I3xgpMk6jvxETApgw6kKPqUmyVWkqTE7wyYZDUUnaObAO9zYOM0m91XBQ3ZEXOOJ0RqFv80x5sXatqJKPxrk8AliqlK490riAOSOOUcrGlffQJME/w400-h265/Nurnberg+Soldiers+Field.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHj8GQ0IlD8GXLoSm3EqBPII4Vhb6dg3j9DUnYLMYMer6ZJH3aMXSjmxLZ_s8GyYG_FSTv00hCYEIxo3Qm_lvcYAKmJd9V7JaLcYjdDJ-8depEPqYTRpfKpdW_xgE6EldisH3Q7vrGVQ/s1115/Soldiers+track+stadium.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="771" data-original-width="1115" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHj8GQ0IlD8GXLoSm3EqBPII4Vhb6dg3j9DUnYLMYMer6ZJH3aMXSjmxLZ_s8GyYG_FSTv00hCYEIxo3Qm_lvcYAKmJd9V7JaLcYjdDJ-8depEPqYTRpfKpdW_xgE6EldisH3Q7vrGVQ/w400-h276/Soldiers+track+stadium.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Looks like he even took in some volleyball in Furstenfeldbruck.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_d08X0obcs3bfJckRmiLNaaIf3vatONlEnqpAfFVbI-8roqNVP4FX2jImsR2NlPMB7tJYisl6fUeheamEWXBDtR18GAxUlc7Nu_kzsW9QwRajpt7rFvgOWkkk7v66YEfVTzBO2LUqLk/s1318/The+Ardee+News+on+the+spot+at+an+Archway+Court+volleyball+game+in+Furstenfeldbruck++And+Tomasko+in+charge.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1014" data-original-width="1318" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_d08X0obcs3bfJckRmiLNaaIf3vatONlEnqpAfFVbI-8roqNVP4FX2jImsR2NlPMB7tJYisl6fUeheamEWXBDtR18GAxUlc7Nu_kzsW9QwRajpt7rFvgOWkkk7v66YEfVTzBO2LUqLk/w400-h308/The+Ardee+News+on+the+spot+at+an+Archway+Court+volleyball+game+in+Furstenfeldbruck++And+Tomasko+in+charge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Ardee News on the spot at an Archway Court volleyball game in Furstenfeldbruck</i></span></p><p>I'm so glad my dad left me some tidbits about his time in Germany. I hope that one day I run across some of the newspaper articles he wrote.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-82083459241751445252021-10-08T13:55:00.001-07:002021-10-08T13:55:20.411-07:0052 Ancestors: Preservation - Blog Books<p>A few months ago I shared that I wanted to get back to publishing my blog into books. In 2011 I published a book using blurb.com of my first year's blog posts to give to my Mom as a Christmas gift, which she seemed to really love. When we next were together, we had such fun looking through the book and talking about her family.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsmnnVqW7ID8zMxSf6X9g6A0qRq3860WSA6rbDYkYPnZYvT0aTiLMLuAI-vKp9pgESc2VphOvxlxCXAPWIFI0ENZaDi5JYLlcFa9icRXz_bMqfJq4zyVpz-1-k8zm5b5J-14x8O_RcoE/s2048/2011.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1908" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXsmnnVqW7ID8zMxSf6X9g6A0qRq3860WSA6rbDYkYPnZYvT0aTiLMLuAI-vKp9pgESc2VphOvxlxCXAPWIFI0ENZaDi5JYLlcFa9icRXz_bMqfJq4zyVpz-1-k8zm5b5J-14x8O_RcoE/w373-h400/2011.jpg" width="373" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I'm the little one in the front.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>It was fun to do and since she seemed to enjoy it, I made another one in 2012.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYwFV2Sw3ZaxpTZGBxhj4-fzknLUv25f1wM46CTVWs7YKueZSR1cDpYtXHSF-8ZcjUrmt62EFmlFc7DXQ9Pe64sdAIgepc-jA-y1kPfV7RUL_LZ1PJXzfHDy6_GA0tVpZNKC3DFdiRPU/s2048/2012.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1875" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYwFV2Sw3ZaxpTZGBxhj4-fzknLUv25f1wM46CTVWs7YKueZSR1cDpYtXHSF-8ZcjUrmt62EFmlFc7DXQ9Pe64sdAIgepc-jA-y1kPfV7RUL_LZ1PJXzfHDy6_GA0tVpZNKC3DFdiRPU/w366-h400/2012.jpg" width="366" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Four generations of women in my family</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>2x great grandmother, great grandmother, grandmother, 3x great grandmother</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>And then it happened. In May, 2013 Mom passed away and when the holidays approached that year, I just couldn't face making another book since it felt like there was no one to gift it to. So I took a pass.</div><div><br /></div><div>And that pass lasted for eight more years until just a few months ago when it occurred to me that I needed to preserve my blog in different ways. Maybe, just maybe, long after I'm gone a descendant will come across it and learn more about those ancestors who came before them. So it was time to get serious and get those years documented in print form.</div><div><br /></div><div>Naturally, my first stop was blurb.com since I'd had such success with it before. Unfortunately, blurb had discontinued the service of "slurping" a blog which would mean I'd have to figure out another way. A blogging friend, Wendy, commented that one way to do it would be to cut and paste. Duh, why hadn't I thought of that? So I started to explore that option. After a lot of cutting and a lot of pasting, I was close to the finish line when I realized that for a 130 page soft cover book, the cost was going to be $82. Not bad for one but I had nine books to make so that was looking to be a hefty price tag.</div><div><br /></div><div>Come on, there had to be another option. And then another blogging friend, Amy, said that she prints her blog books using lulu.com so I explored that option and sure enough, the same book in hard cover would be $27. SCORE! So off I went.....</div><div><br /></div><div>The books would be slightly larger and I'd have to change the cover a bit and it was fun to find a special photo to put on the covers. It wasn't long before I had my first two books in hand - the end of 2012 and all of 2013 in two different books. I was thrilled!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3-ki8ptNyZWUlWSMEctpptw8rFErhyNtRve1imvoTq6wMSYfFcYJJxuV_NNO7W09tuvS1hZmuVUgI9soaysSRnLpeFS6ryuG_8c7TGmbw_jTOkM9_0NTcIi2UdHzkgeGheUwEnKwrj8/s2048/2012_2013.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1338" data-original-width="2048" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3-ki8ptNyZWUlWSMEctpptw8rFErhyNtRve1imvoTq6wMSYfFcYJJxuV_NNO7W09tuvS1hZmuVUgI9soaysSRnLpeFS6ryuG_8c7TGmbw_jTOkM9_0NTcIi2UdHzkgeGheUwEnKwrj8/w400-h261/2012_2013.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Left - Me drying a bowl, Right - my great grandfather, Herman Levy</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>I was hooked! Sure it was labor intensive but by putting it in Word I was able to re-format and size things before I converted into a pdf. Lulu was fairly easy to use and I got it down to a routine. And then when I got an e-mail from Lulu and realized I could take advantage of their discounts at certain times, I got even more enthused. It wasn't long before the 2014 book was complete!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbHVunke_zuiDs5QonfWG4pe2pSiT8pjupPBq7r7VT2VG0ZG5tPsHznXLzAjFKv0F2CEirtoEgIkcTOLyRZv1GNfn7k0W_VstJtXVO-wBPwox8FgEFe8M_PmJUU0fKlOE6nL0cgMERaM/s2048/2014.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1743" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbHVunke_zuiDs5QonfWG4pe2pSiT8pjupPBq7r7VT2VG0ZG5tPsHznXLzAjFKv0F2CEirtoEgIkcTOLyRZv1GNfn7k0W_VstJtXVO-wBPwox8FgEFe8M_PmJUU0fKlOE6nL0cgMERaM/w340-h400/2014.jpg" width="340" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Santa Cruz High School Graduating class, 1890, Bertha Schwartz (great grandmother) standing on right</i></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>And on it went until I completed through 2020. What a collection I have!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTkOiXt8RcA-v-iEQJGe_tKQRXoATexfIcYeWWn5ZX1yiUT44P_HoWewTpHhG0P5UHMXX48aaV1pC2-8WiMFTlQ4s91UK7WbQohej_XdQZD8yvXU41VxnxKENLv5Ss8YfT2loFcSeW38/s2048/New+Books.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1537" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTkOiXt8RcA-v-iEQJGe_tKQRXoATexfIcYeWWn5ZX1yiUT44P_HoWewTpHhG0P5UHMXX48aaV1pC2-8WiMFTlQ4s91UK7WbQohej_XdQZD8yvXU41VxnxKENLv5Ss8YfT2loFcSeW38/w300-h400/New+Books.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div>So that's how I've preserved my blog - I am so happy I finally took the plunge and completed it. Next up, publishing all of the letters my dad wrote to his parents and the pictures he took when he was in the Army in 1945-1946. Working on a title for that now.......</div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /><p><br /></p></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-29210263259685908352021-10-03T11:34:00.000-07:002021-10-03T11:34:28.882-07:0052 Ancestors: Steps - Hills of Eternity<p>When I saw the blog prompt <i>Steps</i>, I immediately thought of a very special step at Hills of Eternity Memorial Park in Colma, California.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzF7SW4vyAHnO6gOK1qTAR1RHnl6eXrvVj17GUZJFfOzVWmA8yyVWRerq6I8G9Eak5U7GLkWbwWmPAztzqY41RuAz-Al1Eku70w85g4Mv2aZTADKR-TOP96Jd-aWiqg2tX2bl_ie0Vsk/s2048/Gunzendorfer+Step.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzF7SW4vyAHnO6gOK1qTAR1RHnl6eXrvVj17GUZJFfOzVWmA8yyVWRerq6I8G9Eak5U7GLkWbwWmPAztzqY41RuAz-Al1Eku70w85g4Mv2aZTADKR-TOP96Jd-aWiqg2tX2bl_ie0Vsk/w400-h300/Gunzendorfer+Step.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Yes, that step shows the name <i>Gunzendorfer</i>, which was the family name of my paternal grandmother. There are several Gunzendorfers buried at Hills of Eternity. The family plot shows a few.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijZsEjVQBJmzGedEr6cjUgcwfjAYqwJG0nOti2ls_5Txn8Z88jo1hsroJXXeuh8_HtlyST1EGrVIBFcwBpJzV3k3yB9ng0s8iTSmbkHnLQ9owrHxhjRMEGmoerrmW2rSIxl993dFK7M8/s800/Gunzendorfer+Plot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijZsEjVQBJmzGedEr6cjUgcwfjAYqwJG0nOti2ls_5Txn8Z88jo1hsroJXXeuh8_HtlyST1EGrVIBFcwBpJzV3k3yB9ng0s8iTSmbkHnLQ9owrHxhjRMEGmoerrmW2rSIxl993dFK7M8/w400-h300/Gunzendorfer+Plot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Ferdinand and Fannie, seen in the foreground, were my second great grandparents. They spent the later years of their lives in Monterey - I'm not sure what took them to the San Francisco area for burial. To the right of the Gunzendorfer monument is their grandson (my grandmother's brother), Wilton, who was placed there after his death in 1989.</p><p>From the Hills of Eternity website:</p><blockquote><p><i>Judaism views death as a natural part of life. Hills of Eternity Memorial Park honors the two basic principles that are part of this natural life cycle: k'vod ha-mayat - the dignified and respectful treatment of the dead - and k'vod he-chai - the honored treatment of the mourners.</i></p><p><i>Congregation Sherith Israel established its first cemetery in accordance with these principles when it was founded in 1850. The cemetery was located in Pacific Heights on Vallejo Street, between Gough and Franklin [San Francisco]. In 1860, Sherith Israel dedicated its second cemetery in the area that is now Dolores Park. Twenty nine years later, Sherith Israel's cemetery moved again to its current location in Colma.</i></p></blockquote><p><i></i></p><p>I'm relieved to learn that the Gunzendorfers are interred in their original burial location.</p><p>Also from the website:</p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><i>Hills of Eternity Memorial Park consists of twenty acres of graciously landscaped gardens at the foot of the San Bruno Mountains. The grounds and mausoleums are respectfully maintained under endowed care. Fresh flower placements and grave ornamentation plantings add to the dignified beauty and serenity of the park.</i></blockquote><p></p><p>Also at Hills of Eternity is the Portals of Eternity mausoleum and chapel, which was built in 1934, and was designed by Samuel Human and Abraham Appleton.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOqtonN3FZpFH0yJfgScTIIkAVZwB9induK55cov-XsLQMSCvW1mgFrlQ4jCWFZxFlFUXko56icsytPFLc1cp1L_WKMzLZBvTeuTkoJv8W_eD3JuYMbgbaCVJ2clLF4qgRb3yoiwtBuY/s800/Hills-of-Eternituy-Memorial-Park-IMG_8593.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="800" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOqtonN3FZpFH0yJfgScTIIkAVZwB9induK55cov-XsLQMSCvW1mgFrlQ4jCWFZxFlFUXko56icsytPFLc1cp1L_WKMzLZBvTeuTkoJv8W_eD3JuYMbgbaCVJ2clLF4qgRb3yoiwtBuY/w400-h255/Hills-of-Eternituy-Memorial-Park-IMG_8593.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Photo by jcemsf.org</i></div></span><p>It is the Portals of Eternity Mausoleum where my great grandparents, Abraham and Bertha (Schwartz) Gunzendorfer, are interred.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkA-hLvZ2gMpRr5r0Es5ItUAreekeoGr-fFNOL9HDHzlO9XG-pAnxwGnpmUEqBAbR131QO6lKUL8NW7twom7G4beCX2PYCBfr77AVjSCu1XW_5jBmi1c6J-T0KMvukUCo3z6ket5JV1uQ/s333/Gunzendorfer+bertha+abe.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkA-hLvZ2gMpRr5r0Es5ItUAreekeoGr-fFNOL9HDHzlO9XG-pAnxwGnpmUEqBAbR131QO6lKUL8NW7twom7G4beCX2PYCBfr77AVjSCu1XW_5jBmi1c6J-T0KMvukUCo3z6ket5JV1uQ/w300-h400/Gunzendorfer+bertha+abe.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span>It's hard to see but that's them in the center with the arrow pointing to their name. I did not add that in the picture - the arrow is actually </span><s>scratched</s><span> etched into the plate. Why would that have been done? They are very high up so really no way for vandals to have been able to accomplish that. A mystery, for sure.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Also interred at Hills of Eternity are some of the Steen family - Bertha's mother was a Steen and while she is not there, these are some of her relatives.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCVKtDuoUYyAO1D8gA9Y9Mq25utBDSft421t2qgsviA6M4TI5BE8P7RF_saQAE1HCPI0p68ONb1p28MW03qXYTgCugo9xIA8IDWclx-rNI6TE0nelz_Fp9DNIOexB2NKQmlSToR_Q4a0/s800/Steen+Hills+of+Eternity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCVKtDuoUYyAO1D8gA9Y9Mq25utBDSft421t2qgsviA6M4TI5BE8P7RF_saQAE1HCPI0p68ONb1p28MW03qXYTgCugo9xIA8IDWclx-rNI6TE0nelz_Fp9DNIOexB2NKQmlSToR_Q4a0/w400-h300/Steen+Hills+of+Eternity.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Interred here are: Dena Steen (1866-1894), Hannah (Plotzky) Steen (1828-1909), Hyman Steen (1887-1924), Jacob Steen (1831-1909), Julius Steen (1862-1876), Lena (Jacobson) Steen (1848-1927), Meyer Steen (1861-1926), Rosalind Steen (1885-1902). </div><div><br /></div><div>I was so fortunate to have been able to spend time in this cemetery in 2012 and, hopefully, will be back again one day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-29519843967248533902021-09-26T10:59:00.001-07:002021-09-27T08:56:31.681-07:0052 Ancestors: Fun and Games - Let's Play!<p>Over the years I've learned that my favorite blog posts are those which show pictures - lots of them! So in that light, I've put together photos of my ancestors (and me) at play. I sure wish I had more of them because it really brings them to life.</p><p>First up, my grandfather, Sig Levy, loved to play tennis. I not only have a photo of him as he played, but even have some of his tennis racquets hanging on my wall.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh44bIf7G2RaW1c5im0jrFmZMmQxf2R5e_V9nA3pbS5qDNnAzvFfSChfK7PE1yhynVFjKYKd81E2hMtlrwaZawjtAvtjdDudCvjTDSPCEeNRhisEJX4C7q_VPVcDmx6et9ODiVWW72at0Y/s1957/Sig+Tennis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1957" data-original-width="1303" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh44bIf7G2RaW1c5im0jrFmZMmQxf2R5e_V9nA3pbS5qDNnAzvFfSChfK7PE1yhynVFjKYKd81E2hMtlrwaZawjtAvtjdDudCvjTDSPCEeNRhisEJX4C7q_VPVcDmx6et9ODiVWW72at0Y/w266-h400/Sig+Tennis.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sig Levy</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJf7Emv-_J73jOZCwIqe4Qxhm-1mrlpYmWTVDNFT2V2MJr3o6gFGHh2ua5CjVLThLxoGOMdBojTcP1_figzpPVfvCdAcE4RMjUECcpvF8JuFbzURv5uyhoz2SqxwDjlFQj_n38EmNgcs/s2048/Tennis+Racquets.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1429" data-original-width="2048" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJf7Emv-_J73jOZCwIqe4Qxhm-1mrlpYmWTVDNFT2V2MJr3o6gFGHh2ua5CjVLThLxoGOMdBojTcP1_figzpPVfvCdAcE4RMjUECcpvF8JuFbzURv5uyhoz2SqxwDjlFQj_n38EmNgcs/w400-h279/Tennis+Racquets.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>I also found a photo of my grandmother's brother, Wilton Gunzendorfer, in the 1915 Monterey High School yearbook, <i>El Susurro, </i>when he was a freshman - turns out he liked to play tennis, too. Yep, he was known as "Champ Gunzy".</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhli11uQeRB1dlDZW0Otz05vpiK6wiz41DRMsEvsDHbalJ9JFLdCL7Q9GpI_p2yJc-m040XhYSkRTJavBRLjwYpk9moazg1Nhl_jv0mZBvTplFQbSXQ_ZCoheArbc4UXC6Vd7KronGlmAk/s701/Champ+Gunzy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="302" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhli11uQeRB1dlDZW0Otz05vpiK6wiz41DRMsEvsDHbalJ9JFLdCL7Q9GpI_p2yJc-m040XhYSkRTJavBRLjwYpk9moazg1Nhl_jv0mZBvTplFQbSXQ_ZCoheArbc4UXC6Vd7KronGlmAk/w173-h400/Champ+Gunzy.jpg" width="173" /></a></div><br /><p>It makes me wonder if Sig and Wilt ever played tennis together. I do know that he played with his brother, Ben Levy, as he wrote on November 2, 1916 to his future wife and my grandmother, Loraine Gunzendorfer:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><i>What do you know about my young
brother and myself qualifying in the semi-finals in the county tennis
tourney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well he is tickled stiff as we
have worked our way up to the real fast players.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had never played with him before and it
must be good-fortune that is with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our next opponents are real sharks so I have no hopes of winning but we
are getting a lot of fun and good exercise out of it.</i></p><p></p></blockquote><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p>I've read a lot about my grandmother, Loraine Gunzendorfer, rowing on a lake in Oakland with her cousin, Hyman Steen. Since she lived close to Lake Merritt, I assume that's where they went - boy would I love to find a photo of that! But this picture of her with her <i>Mermaid</i> friends will just have to do.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XAbtd8NvTsi1_h_crLbBUPMQiV3sWmzZ4gz_1GMfln8P-tKuXL63gK_oVhqLvXEKmzsRSXPLzFOq5sqlemOSVscw-3a2scS84QL0_oCUV6eos2G-aHP3uIqxILNWv5AzYhpCqnjxyys/s522/Mermaids.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="522" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XAbtd8NvTsi1_h_crLbBUPMQiV3sWmzZ4gz_1GMfln8P-tKuXL63gK_oVhqLvXEKmzsRSXPLzFOq5sqlemOSVscw-3a2scS84QL0_oCUV6eos2G-aHP3uIqxILNWv5AzYhpCqnjxyys/w400-h360/Mermaids.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>1915 Monterey High School, El Susurro</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Loraine, second from left</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I don't have too many photos of my mom and her ancestors, especially of them playing. But I thought this photo of her with her parents, Clara Fitzgerald and Earle Martin, showed a playful side of the family.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGD4KLQRvs9mQwD-SIKoD2f0Q8GzvB0OakGt207ax1um6w2FRPEVqTGAdm57fHQ34J_yynCLxfHdKy0og9hMwQmb7snRcIldIvIa1WyJzJQA6mBiSpA1Bj6k4vgdOX_vzNO4QEhpcFER4/s1138/Geraldine+Martin_Clara+Fitzgerald_Earle+Martin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1138" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGD4KLQRvs9mQwD-SIKoD2f0Q8GzvB0OakGt207ax1um6w2FRPEVqTGAdm57fHQ34J_yynCLxfHdKy0og9hMwQmb7snRcIldIvIa1WyJzJQA6mBiSpA1Bj6k4vgdOX_vzNO4QEhpcFER4/w400-h300/Geraldine+Martin_Clara+Fitzgerald_Earle+Martin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>My dad liked to play games and sports - he was ready for football in the backyard on Christmas Day, 1937.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV26rF7XdE432eu7ORk46PkdVHkrOv9uLHynJuJoa1vtunCyFkfMl78ugyVhtuZtMOkSaraCq_7jYJ8Gdzh53BqM_GIycHBDEczk4YaD04uAB6wZM1hD6dAdkq7XF4LGKb3Zw3wrYMxHY/s1016/Football+Xmas+Day+1937.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="693" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV26rF7XdE432eu7ORk46PkdVHkrOv9uLHynJuJoa1vtunCyFkfMl78ugyVhtuZtMOkSaraCq_7jYJ8Gdzh53BqM_GIycHBDEczk4YaD04uAB6wZM1hD6dAdkq7XF4LGKb3Zw3wrYMxHY/w273-h400/Football+Xmas+Day+1937.jpg" width="273" /></a></div><br /><div>And even when he wasn't actually playing, he found an opportunity to be playful while watching others play. He must have been watching a granddaughter play softball while he sported her high school letterman's jacket.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQuTNKb07qFg9fvbAtkMCWPl-NiJ38w1dkAs3qGS9errOZS37mvJx7DzfOSV-VH1Ku6qzHlMYPpOtihzDYVssv7-QN_W7xEEfGKNODEQuEQdjFL8XXroZX0VlojiodVrmEZsLw2msoDk/s2048/Gordon+Levy+KW+Jacket.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="2048" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQuTNKb07qFg9fvbAtkMCWPl-NiJ38w1dkAs3qGS9errOZS37mvJx7DzfOSV-VH1Ku6qzHlMYPpOtihzDYVssv7-QN_W7xEEfGKNODEQuEQdjFL8XXroZX0VlojiodVrmEZsLw2msoDk/w400-h394/Gordon+Levy+KW+Jacket.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Of course the playful gene didn't stop with Dad - he made sure his kids followed in his footsteps. We had A LOT of board games as kids - one entire shelf in the storage room was filled with them. I don't remember too many specifics about what we played (or who won) but it was fun to see this 'canned' pose (for a Christmas card, I'm guessing). Was I paying off little brother.....or was he paying me off?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMVqyDzq_eiPLCeA_HbEHqW4_5Bmeu4Sn-nkxyEcutnZh7ryCvG33dlWEPI1j2j1lbPThrv6xkLxZ4fxMv9XdESvaq0pBSKTwpiUDmhTbIvLBfp8a__yF89YN4_NIbYxuld9YHN4xNF4/s2048/Levy+Kids+Monopoly+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1533" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMVqyDzq_eiPLCeA_HbEHqW4_5Bmeu4Sn-nkxyEcutnZh7ryCvG33dlWEPI1j2j1lbPThrv6xkLxZ4fxMv9XdESvaq0pBSKTwpiUDmhTbIvLBfp8a__yF89YN4_NIbYxuld9YHN4xNF4/w400-h300/Levy+Kids+Monopoly+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I sure wish I had some photos of playing games with our next-door neighbor, Mary. Our favorite places to play were in the far back of their station wagon parked on the driveway (what?) and under the ping pong table with blankets over the top and sides to make a tent. Not only board games but paper dolls - oh, those were the days!</div><div><br /></div><div>We also liked to play dress up and produce plays. Looks like we were here with our cousin putting together some sort of dance routine. Remember those candy cigarettes with red coloring on the end so you felt like you were smoking?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_xkEAk_Fg9wv4J0n8stSnNacDN3ml9BYcDhji3zS5_SE5jSI-zn-9W8-8GKjYrzl8o2mfHvP4h7FMSR0bzVMKXpnxPRZrEW3xOiNSDgXF9eCDIlaZhRPJTUAUwMJ4RHLOVKHa5k07Cg/s2048/Levy+Kids+Leotards.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_xkEAk_Fg9wv4J0n8stSnNacDN3ml9BYcDhji3zS5_SE5jSI-zn-9W8-8GKjYrzl8o2mfHvP4h7FMSR0bzVMKXpnxPRZrEW3xOiNSDgXF9eCDIlaZhRPJTUAUwMJ4RHLOVKHa5k07Cg/w400-h268/Levy+Kids+Leotards.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Cousin, me, sister</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>My parents loved to play and watch golf - looks like they tried to get big sister interested, as well. Or at least I <i>think</i> that's big sister?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBZMYy_9Fec-dwVT4FDpbpDI5D2MX7pZFAs1-mDrHLi7NpBZuMcRXsvK_N-DBz63bcJXi1MC7fQ3xqd5WUXGq8TwYyFUZy559fi6wdDzcVjO6utsahtBEjJrQMfh0r6N-NiIhJ0CHpwo/s2048/Cary+golf+Monterey.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2042" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBZMYy_9Fec-dwVT4FDpbpDI5D2MX7pZFAs1-mDrHLi7NpBZuMcRXsvK_N-DBz63bcJXi1MC7fQ3xqd5WUXGq8TwYyFUZy559fi6wdDzcVjO6utsahtBEjJrQMfh0r6N-NiIhJ0CHpwo/s320/Cary+golf+Monterey.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><br /><div>Dad was not much of a fisherman so not sure how this happened? Were we at family camp at Camp Campbell?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDMPgiGObeHmu0VaUdnH49d2EbF4CiNZoYsYtB8CnwzxVo3pPXgzylEAKrUjcyoWchohBLd1MeQDjlebNfecmTB8YJwbeH4h_MsVlgj48_vnO6JjYSmAj4d6-vFPFlZvEukt2DQJ9B3o/s2048/Levy+Girls+Fishing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDMPgiGObeHmu0VaUdnH49d2EbF4CiNZoYsYtB8CnwzxVo3pPXgzylEAKrUjcyoWchohBLd1MeQDjlebNfecmTB8YJwbeH4h_MsVlgj48_vnO6JjYSmAj4d6-vFPFlZvEukt2DQJ9B3o/w400-h268/Levy+Girls+Fishing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Little brother liked to play, too!<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1G8RxmwRaPiQJEEnU4I8n1i8p3jJ6FTzkYYJETgo1nnSMhnO4AJEbcchJvBguUhC0aFPuzzU2QoYDxA8y_8OgbX8zRHMV5pvhMoiVzNWSj7xltpbmtIFQ5XxzSOJxqI-kZUTfOtKt8I/s2048/Doug+Football.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1750" data-original-width="2048" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1G8RxmwRaPiQJEEnU4I8n1i8p3jJ6FTzkYYJETgo1nnSMhnO4AJEbcchJvBguUhC0aFPuzzU2QoYDxA8y_8OgbX8zRHMV5pvhMoiVzNWSj7xltpbmtIFQ5XxzSOJxqI-kZUTfOtKt8I/w400-h341/Doug+Football.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Maybe my grandmother's love of rowing rubbed off on me and little brother. Not sure where this is or even how far we got but for a brief moment in time it looks like we were having fun.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAvmp30YGcjCEVYg9-Kh6STRgmZzl6RXWzMIXzL8hkVKrK6mvEF7SFv9nAxlHlaCjncjVZKFr8uvUDz-RH9vKgCaffu5C1qGfQSW5lBOgb7k4T3Vq5G0HJXj0TaTXrs067Je1GqwPp78/s2048/Debi+Doug+on+the+water.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1575" data-original-width="2048" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAvmp30YGcjCEVYg9-Kh6STRgmZzl6RXWzMIXzL8hkVKrK6mvEF7SFv9nAxlHlaCjncjVZKFr8uvUDz-RH9vKgCaffu5C1qGfQSW5lBOgb7k4T3Vq5G0HJXj0TaTXrs067Je1GqwPp78/w400-h308/Debi+Doug+on+the+water.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>As time marched on, I dabbled in different playful activities. While maybe not exactly play, I remember the March of Dimes charity walk we participated in a few times. I don't remember exactly how far we walked but I do remember it was a <i>LONG</i> day and my feet hurt like crazy by the time I took the last step.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieo5FO0VfV8aUpaJ2LoKUNF4A7Thxu6HBH2-8XKgoj0OK8ov0PiXxa9jrHOGJjjLzmu6zfi6oeLU_-AWJFZgKUTfc4Cr1T4LYeoMYf5tvaL-uFeVF0TyyXGvnuybDJcTEiUh8FJRTtIJ0/s2048/Debi+MOD+Walk.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1133" data-original-width="2048" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieo5FO0VfV8aUpaJ2LoKUNF4A7Thxu6HBH2-8XKgoj0OK8ov0PiXxa9jrHOGJjjLzmu6zfi6oeLU_-AWJFZgKUTfc4Cr1T4LYeoMYf5tvaL-uFeVF0TyyXGvnuybDJcTEiUh8FJRTtIJ0/w400-h221/Debi+MOD+Walk.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That's me on the right with the sunglasses</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>It's fun to see my ancestors at play - I've learned a lot about how they spent their free time and what gave them joy. Not to mention it's fun to see myself at play as a child. I just hope I wasn't playing here. Artillery?????</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpeq4hpW4xa1Td2W_lHWnO6tU8Sh42vPKxyYWsmHwX-HMcnrRFOr1WYcKTxGE7GtHRKlciKyuzgNeekzC1p7e-nbhVQSc_xQh_C0FqkRO3CyFvh9C0efmXo8rI_955s_mpGzzXusd15E/s2048/Debi+Walkers+Artillery.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpeq4hpW4xa1Td2W_lHWnO6tU8Sh42vPKxyYWsmHwX-HMcnrRFOr1WYcKTxGE7GtHRKlciKyuzgNeekzC1p7e-nbhVQSc_xQh_C0FqkRO3CyFvh9C0efmXo8rI_955s_mpGzzXusd15E/w400-h268/Debi+Walkers+Artillery.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-74223535511125581512021-09-12T11:05:00.001-07:002021-09-12T11:05:40.822-07:0052 Ancestors: Working - Dean Witter<p>Last week I mentioned that I "discovered" an album I'd stashed away where I found some great photos of my parents at their graduations from Stanford University - you can read it <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2021/09/52-ancestors-school-gerry-and-gordon.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>. <i><b>PLEASE </b></i>tell me that others have stashed things away and forgotten that they had them?</p><p>Also included in the album were a lot of newspaper clippings - remember that my dad had a bit of the scrapbooking gene in him. Most of them were loose and just haphazardly placed into the album - his parents apparently didn't teach him appropriate scrapbook etiquette. I never really had the scrapbook gene but I guess you could argue that my blog is the 21st century form of scrapbooking.</p><p>After my dad's graduation in 1951, they moved to San Jose where my dad began his career at Dean Witter.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiardWM1hKnwEifmf4SJGE0BYA7aZWsvGY_s2SpuVPLrBXm_-8XBMCC4Vdp9vC6jdQx7qRXWAiCVFQcB1TsqXqoYkVZzr8b2aLiUWyAf_bg9Mk8AIVHP9z3zPQjHY-iAaa4Y7CKFcveOjk/s1198/Registered+Representative+9_17_1951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1186" data-original-width="1198" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiardWM1hKnwEifmf4SJGE0BYA7aZWsvGY_s2SpuVPLrBXm_-8XBMCC4Vdp9vC6jdQx7qRXWAiCVFQcB1TsqXqoYkVZzr8b2aLiUWyAf_bg9Mk8AIVHP9z3zPQjHY-iAaa4Y7CKFcveOjk/w400-h396/Registered+Representative+9_17_1951.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;">San Jose Mercury, 17 Sep 1951</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;"><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;"><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCVWbWGhlZ4DiOuHW51GUp1l4ch9wbdLjDBvmU_Tb-blF0OpICmcOHWywYbZJSNB7kDyGFv0uW-crP8Q8ffkRL2hasS_LWqDx_DzPsE-dtEXMJYGyhGpKoMApNoMJ9ZDmENXapXTGiJI/s2151/Associate+Named+10_14_1951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2151" data-original-width="647" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCVWbWGhlZ4DiOuHW51GUp1l4ch9wbdLjDBvmU_Tb-blF0OpICmcOHWywYbZJSNB7kDyGFv0uW-crP8Q8ffkRL2hasS_LWqDx_DzPsE-dtEXMJYGyhGpKoMApNoMJ9ZDmENXapXTGiJI/w192-h640/Associate+Named+10_14_1951.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>San Jose Mercury, 14 Oct 1951</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>Interesting that Dean Witter was located in the Bank of America Building - more on that later.</div><div><br /></div><div>By 1952, Dad offered San Jose Chamber of Commerce members "a positive investment policy". The article is small and hard to read but a couple of his rules to follow are below.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheLustqpWfszuWl7OscivBZnOktBggMbBKPFdP7SGdfCmzlDHNesZ8TckcgROGO78HW121q-zOMxeuEZb_IC7Jy_44WFqxJUee2mmouVlyR76zFYt40fIbNArz-mA6f81hQ-NKtmq9xrg/s2717/Tips+on+How+to+Invest+2_3_1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2717" data-original-width="1158" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheLustqpWfszuWl7OscivBZnOktBggMbBKPFdP7SGdfCmzlDHNesZ8TckcgROGO78HW121q-zOMxeuEZb_IC7Jy_44WFqxJUee2mmouVlyR76zFYt40fIbNArz-mA6f81hQ-NKtmq9xrg/w272-h640/Tips+on+How+to+Invest+2_3_1952.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>San Jose Mercury, 3 Feb 1952</i></span></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Select concerns manufacturing needed goods.</li><li>Choose concerns that are leaders in their particular industry.</li><li>Achieve diversification (such as five different companies in as many industries to spread the risk).</li><li>Put the same amount of dollars in each company. </li><li>Buy shares listed on major exchanges.</li><li>Choose shares having a 10-year earning and dividend record and only those shares which have earned $5 for every $4 paid out in dividends.</li><li>Annually weed out poorer stocks and replace them with better ones.</li><li>Deal only with a reputable brokerage house or bank.</li><li>Buy only on one's own capital (instead of with borrowed money).</li></ul><div><br /></div><div>I wonder how Dad would feel now with the self-investing that is prevalent today. I can remember him coming home after a day's work and saying how bad the market performed that day and he'd say "can you believe the Dow was down 25 points today?" He'd be hanging on for the ride these days!</div></div><div><br /></div><div>This article has no date but I assume it's from the same event. Not as detailed but easier to read.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgg9BliVQnZBwIb0HscX3zkDbhyiSAh2Z6i7ifUOzUM_IFTDDvfYOjb8Rl8-i84oUDo_fFeZZycUMyeRNPIYyjS63dseoq3_lplXzCbgZTD0UeVhyphenhyphen2WedILcQ0xEaWk-ktbnRYTPT-g4/s1373/Chamber+Hears+Stock+Expert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1373" data-original-width="692" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgg9BliVQnZBwIb0HscX3zkDbhyiSAh2Z6i7ifUOzUM_IFTDDvfYOjb8Rl8-i84oUDo_fFeZZycUMyeRNPIYyjS63dseoq3_lplXzCbgZTD0UeVhyphenhyphen2WedILcQ0xEaWk-ktbnRYTPT-g4/w322-h640/Chamber+Hears+Stock+Expert.jpg" width="322" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And then, the office moved from the Bank of America Building. I often wondered if he started at the office on First Street and now I see that he did not.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9G3DqGopGo52-ObsRxQdQHncEydQLwsoVXtn_t3cZfdrYuKkYuRPLYdVKhy1UX4H2MdtIGBs6mC3nFmFkxqL3BzoVYLNTyQoR1DJh7aRb-W7YbAoNGu7JdA8rFj3GxE51EBQT6jYDcE/s901/Dean+Witter+new+office+WSJ+12_15_1952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="901" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9G3DqGopGo52-ObsRxQdQHncEydQLwsoVXtn_t3cZfdrYuKkYuRPLYdVKhy1UX4H2MdtIGBs6mC3nFmFkxqL3BzoVYLNTyQoR1DJh7aRb-W7YbAoNGu7JdA8rFj3GxE51EBQT6jYDcE/s320/Dean+Witter+new+office+WSJ+12_15_1952.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Wall Street Journal, 15 Dec 1952</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWTr6rdL8ES5HyF5qEfmZdkSXLgbCr4SegBt99upaVF38WT1ULdBYZbt5ryiZ-Ut9cMfw-YZ9DvXPk_T6FC4zQkugcmpA2FUVnIw5Bhp_vqPdErCIHe7-V18n8-daak_0fONIS_XzgS0/s707/Dean+Witter+new+office.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="707" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWTr6rdL8ES5HyF5qEfmZdkSXLgbCr4SegBt99upaVF38WT1ULdBYZbt5ryiZ-Ut9cMfw-YZ9DvXPk_T6FC4zQkugcmpA2FUVnIw5Bhp_vqPdErCIHe7-V18n8-daak_0fONIS_XzgS0/s320/Dean+Witter+new+office.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Newspaper and date unknown</i></div></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Oh boy, I remember the quotation boards where someone would stand at a chalk board all day and change the quotes. And they called that fast information and service.</div><div><br /></div><div>And here's Dad posing in front of the new office. I remember going there as a child.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHu4Aj1PX7oOOQc0oCLPHydDboZtT8Pjo7i8tpuBmxioUPH4G7wsTsZFXHbEqSaojG2HawxvniHvDlTNZBQXzj-rjPsCSx-qN0-IBlIelRMZkOfjMYx0XygJhxwtqNSyHMIKToqXZVgo/s1337/In+front+of+office.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="916" data-original-width="1337" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHu4Aj1PX7oOOQc0oCLPHydDboZtT8Pjo7i8tpuBmxioUPH4G7wsTsZFXHbEqSaojG2HawxvniHvDlTNZBQXzj-rjPsCSx-qN0-IBlIelRMZkOfjMYx0XygJhxwtqNSyHMIKToqXZVgo/w400-h274/In+front+of+office.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Another interesting story that I could have helped Dad with. In the 1980's Dad felt the need to "try out" another career and joined the San Jose Chamber of Commerce and Visitors Bureau - they must have liked his talk in 1952. He spent a decade with the Chamber and then decided to go back to what he loved and re-joined Dean Witter. I remember him telling me that when he went back they were not going to give him "credit" towards his pension for his previous service there. Believe it or not, there were no computer records and my packrat father couldn't come up with an old pay stub or anything to prove that he'd previously worked there. He told me that <i>finally</i> he was able to come up with a photo of him shaking hands with Dean Witter - success! But if he'd only looked at his own scrapbook he would have found this.....</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgRgON-2cLwDaw2HhjpMfYDH55gsb97_Vb8bX4gUkItSqIySX61A_h5amI6YHy5HtDrtZwlE3XXvgec3CgwCWpVIky8AyTmFsbCQyXiA0wNC2cD5Ahr9K76iQlFIJ6NaAoDaAS2cyZ90/s1994/Letter+from+Dean+Witter+12_20_1954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1994" data-original-width="1962" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgRgON-2cLwDaw2HhjpMfYDH55gsb97_Vb8bX4gUkItSqIySX61A_h5amI6YHy5HtDrtZwlE3XXvgec3CgwCWpVIky8AyTmFsbCQyXiA0wNC2cD5Ahr9K76iQlFIJ6NaAoDaAS2cyZ90/w394-h400/Letter+from+Dean+Witter+12_20_1954.jpg" width="394" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dean Witter was a special part of Dad's life and I'm glad he left me some mementos so that I could take a trip in his honor down memory lane.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-20791736666597833662021-09-05T14:55:00.001-07:002021-12-28T10:15:08.727-08:0052 Ancestors: School - Gerry and Gordon Graduate <p>Labor Day weekend is always a tough time for me as my dad died on Labor Day in 2005 which was September 5. I can't believe it's been 16 years ago today. So when the prompt of <i>School</i> came up, I thought there was nothing better than to write about my dad, Gordon Levy and my mom, Gerry Martin.</p><p>Dad received his Bachelor's Degree in 1949 (5 years due to military service) - I wrote a bit about his early college days <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2020/09/52-ancestors-back-to-school-gordon-goes.html" target="_blank">HERE</a> and <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2020/09/52-ancestors-on-map-stanford-university.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>. I just ran across another photo album (<i>WHY</i> do I stash them in different locations?) and thought I'd share a few photos here.</p><p>My mom, Gerry Martin, graduated from Stanford with a BA, Economics 7 April, 1950. I always wondered why she studied Economics - ick. But she did and sure was a proud graduate.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtLAZGZ1-tktlumS7yJKNWn2S22YX3gE63rGKAjmVgqPvBtm6EnIdLjDdTFhfhqNWAGW4z-42o3KzcYKfChFggVdmcPGZjocIz-kpNMCKPCeQGfVGQ8WW_FEFE8oHUjLrPSH4P0wXI2HM/s1289/Gerry+Martin+4_7_1950.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1289" data-original-width="817" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtLAZGZ1-tktlumS7yJKNWn2S22YX3gE63rGKAjmVgqPvBtm6EnIdLjDdTFhfhqNWAGW4z-42o3KzcYKfChFggVdmcPGZjocIz-kpNMCKPCeQGfVGQ8WW_FEFE8oHUjLrPSH4P0wXI2HM/w254-h400/Gerry+Martin+4_7_1950.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Gerry Martin, 7 April 1950, Stanford University</i></span></p><p>Not sure if this was before or after the ceremony but, thankfully, dad labeled it for me.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicvRFn1K5w0ZvGWCyYMonEx-RfqnVM4nv2LWn5NPsA0Ik1ZGlMDfe1a8V7Jp3nFeVdwYEViJ_mjHtHVshCD_yi5ltnIFPlQgkyd_P8FLnF81YxP3hFRR9p3JvOMd65b8Oec8UUIDsyY-M/s1608/Gerry+graduates+1950.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1608" data-original-width="963" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicvRFn1K5w0ZvGWCyYMonEx-RfqnVM4nv2LWn5NPsA0Ik1ZGlMDfe1a8V7Jp3nFeVdwYEViJ_mjHtHVshCD_yi5ltnIFPlQgkyd_P8FLnF81YxP3hFRR9p3JvOMd65b8Oec8UUIDsyY-M/w240-h400/Gerry+graduates+1950.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Oh I'm sure Dad wished he had a telephoto lens - somewhere in that crowd of graduates is my mom.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66tVw_Eq14pxGMuOOE9EvxEPPO3zthJyndBhXJHQxdwhn2ldiZy6MxbtFN9yKXG7lc2ZvCfb2Zlfy8Um9urpQS5R_DxBL3SVo9y51VNCI5fjZc03GflZvCsHMERs4Gl9ua2pAXTGkRvA/s1190/Graduation+Ceremony+4_7_1950.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1190" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66tVw_Eq14pxGMuOOE9EvxEPPO3zthJyndBhXJHQxdwhn2ldiZy6MxbtFN9yKXG7lc2ZvCfb2Zlfy8Um9urpQS5R_DxBL3SVo9y51VNCI5fjZc03GflZvCsHMERs4Gl9ua2pAXTGkRvA/s320/Graduation+Ceremony+4_7_1950.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And her graduation photo from The Quad, the Stanford yearbook, in 1950.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvW1YX3LpMvpz3xcClojKDJq7wX6b17FuvQoIV-vapvfDTejioz-6YEBojwZWWJYEUQR1rGCHZZVwAQLP3aQ7rGpc1Vouzo3uoqxFSyi-N3Uf8kPF78oS6CpLfQEMUBHzfs1BIaQWCCI/s338/Gerry+Martin+Stanford+Yearbook+1950.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="282" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvW1YX3LpMvpz3xcClojKDJq7wX6b17FuvQoIV-vapvfDTejioz-6YEBojwZWWJYEUQR1rGCHZZVwAQLP3aQ7rGpc1Vouzo3uoqxFSyi-N3Uf8kPF78oS6CpLfQEMUBHzfs1BIaQWCCI/s320/Gerry+Martin+Stanford+Yearbook+1950.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After his undergraduate graduation, Dad continued on with his graduate degree and kept at it even after their marriage in September, 1950. And just like that he was done and then participated in the graduation ceremony on 6 April, 1951.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4m8-w8DQjnq57kc_EDER_P_yM4NJy_JCHcRhWxwac5421rVGG8Hy4BHWvUE5xt_xBM0cODw4tqTxhSYDISswSyXQ4yWlAbPiJ8t54TIvDrsIK0PxEVhzcUQVsjJNUGoEjDMFLVVx05A/s1188/Gordon+Levy+MBA+graduate+6April1951.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1188" data-original-width="783" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4m8-w8DQjnq57kc_EDER_P_yM4NJy_JCHcRhWxwac5421rVGG8Hy4BHWvUE5xt_xBM0cODw4tqTxhSYDISswSyXQ4yWlAbPiJ8t54TIvDrsIK0PxEVhzcUQVsjJNUGoEjDMFLVVx05A/w264-h400/Gordon+Levy+MBA+graduate+6April1951.jpg" width="264" /></a></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> Gordon Levy, MBA, 6 April, 1951, Stanford University</i></span></div></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They looked so happy (and probably so thankful it was finally over).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIhXzca1dKNIhR2Aa8PAHu1UiCHlZAiEncmxmva3bOpXL4DTrqdaCnxn6wC_eLQqRBuJEgRd_ngB9qveCxj8ImdHWta0U4cfrWQM1uEC543YKtP_doOsRVdZzpphVP3aX-BYYQH_1a2A/s1208/Gordon+Levy+Gerry+Martin+6April1951.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1208" data-original-width="812" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNIhXzca1dKNIhR2Aa8PAHu1UiCHlZAiEncmxmva3bOpXL4DTrqdaCnxn6wC_eLQqRBuJEgRd_ngB9qveCxj8ImdHWta0U4cfrWQM1uEC543YKtP_doOsRVdZzpphVP3aX-BYYQH_1a2A/w269-h400/Gordon+Levy+Gerry+Martin+6April1951.jpg" width="269" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Gordon and Gerry Levy, 1951</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>And proof that the parents all attended. Fortunately, it's an easy drive from Fresno to Palo Alto.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23WXhuBamGpHjJPBK2oKo2cfmB3wc66S3YSao1QJEnGLZgiBsvbJ_Zo4DD4R1DSpBggqXSDUrPKJKlChzFtw0Gg494MELMBxyZe6H9JZDw_xirxRp3i_dHT1xXSr5LM8JGJiI6ULUr3g/s1439/MBA+Graduation+Sig_Levy+Loraine_Gunzendorfer+Clara_Fitzgerald+Shell_Hunter+1951.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1151" data-original-width="1439" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23WXhuBamGpHjJPBK2oKo2cfmB3wc66S3YSao1QJEnGLZgiBsvbJ_Zo4DD4R1DSpBggqXSDUrPKJKlChzFtw0Gg494MELMBxyZe6H9JZDw_xirxRp3i_dHT1xXSr5LM8JGJiI6ULUr3g/s320/MBA+Graduation+Sig_Levy+Loraine_Gunzendorfer+Clara_Fitzgerald+Shell_Hunter+1951.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Sig Levy, Loraine (Gunzendorfer) Levy, Clara (Fitzgerald) Hunter, Shel Hunter</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>And from the 1951 yearbook.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKbf87E3ULjUo49wfc14Df1cTrcKGoGBBlwjQS_E2dlV0SIZHKGsW7YBnoR5yhX64aNEmjDJbC6Mw0LvxthN9xLHMLFklL6a3iOWBn25HpaiQh7PakZnTSle_0KtT8XcXQKkmvjcbtp8/s739/Gordon+Levy+Stanford+Yearbook+1951.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="739" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKbf87E3ULjUo49wfc14Df1cTrcKGoGBBlwjQS_E2dlV0SIZHKGsW7YBnoR5yhX64aNEmjDJbC6Mw0LvxthN9xLHMLFklL6a3iOWBn25HpaiQh7PakZnTSle_0KtT8XcXQKkmvjcbtp8/s320/Gordon+Levy+Stanford+Yearbook+1951.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think about my parents every day but Labor Day weekend is always so tough. I'm always so happy when I can remember Dad in my blog.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-10520275263068478752021-08-29T13:58:00.002-07:002021-12-04T10:02:52.869-08:0052 Ancestors: Character - Dick Crawford<p>This week's prompt really had me stumped, probably because I'd already written about my grandfather, <a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2020/10/52-ancestors-quite-character-sig-in.html" target="_blank">Sig Levy</a>, for last year's prompt <i>Quite The Character</i>. So I felt like I should get a little more creative and interpret the prompt a little differently.</p><p>I wondered if my grandparents had written about any characters in the letters they wrote back and forth from 1916-1919. In checking Loraine's letters to Sig, the word was never mentioned. But when I opened Sig's letters to Loraine and searched on 'character', a new world opened up to me. </p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><p><i>November 11, 1917</i></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: 42.75pt;"><i>And what do you
think my dear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dick did not pass his
examination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came home last night
really sad and if <u>he</u> can't pass, I don't think I would have stood a
chance, as he is a young giant and one of the best athletes in this part of the
country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has an excellent moral
<b>character</b> and is high class in every respect, but the physical examination was
too stiff for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don't give any
reasons, just "pass" or "don't pass".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I think I'll be happier now because if we
enlist, we will both go together or else wait for the draft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know they are to classify on the 15th of
December, and call us out on February first.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: 42.75pt;"><i>I'm glad that
you appreciated Dick's phoning you and that answers your question: "Am I thinking of you?" Now do you love me a lot for that? Dick is a swell fellow - my closest friend and
the only one in the world whom I would have ring you. And I didn't want to miss the opportunity as
I thought you would enjoy it, and you did, didn't you my dear?</i></p><p></p></blockquote><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: 42.75pt;"><i></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: 42.75pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>I've read a lot about Dick in my grandfather's things so decided this would be a good time to research my grandfather's closest friend.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86GaLYTRJqZGXiqqCB8LvFyoGI-lEaOlkNSFFt8KtNXBz32H8sxgwhUzuZ-pVwZxgS9uR8g8XKe5PpDltlYJYiy1gNOzVaBijnhEIoJ20s9pZqqY_9rbv37vRS3iBQkyUwOaCIEFSjeU/s511/Crawford+Dick+The+Owl+1908.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="398" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86GaLYTRJqZGXiqqCB8LvFyoGI-lEaOlkNSFFt8KtNXBz32H8sxgwhUzuZ-pVwZxgS9uR8g8XKe5PpDltlYJYiy1gNOzVaBijnhEIoJ20s9pZqqY_9rbv37vRS3iBQkyUwOaCIEFSjeU/w311-h400/Crawford+Dick+The+Owl+1908.jpg" width="311" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dick Crawford, Fresno High School, The Owl, June, 1908</span></i></div></i><p>Dick was born Edwin Dickey Crawford to Annie Lee (Dickey) and James Malcom Crawford on 2 June 1892 in Temple, Texas. I don't know the reason but somewhere between 1900 and 1910, the family moved to Fresno. </p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><p><i>January 13, 1918 - letter from Sig to Loraine</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>I am enclosing a clipping of a
picture that I received from Dick. As
usual the paper got it all wrong and has him training for an aviator when in
fact he is in the non-flying branch, but he will be all swelled up to learn
that he is training for a flier. So your
friend is in the same camp. Yes my dear,
I think it would be great if he would meet Dick. According to your address they are in the
same camp but Dick is in the 10th squadron.
He most likely is registered as E.D. Crawford. He will surely like Dick as they don't come
any better.</i></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i></i><o:p></o:p></p><p>Sig was probably referring to this picture (newspaper article) he had received from Dick.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="545" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57brgLWynuTkg6Jdf0b5UJd-B2Pmj4cnKOzTZQZiKTDjSMTRWe4lqR6iplbF5QaezQvuhQgyIsvbd2C7cvCs_vXAj2Ee4oXlR-kIJwcbvzkphftYstJ0LOwyeB-PhaCf30tWHEtk2SIc/w400-h365/Crawford+and+Levy+Aviation+Training+Fresno+Morning+Republican+13+Jan+1918+pg+14.jpg" width="400" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Fresno Morning Republican, 13 Jan 1918, Page 14</i></span><br /><br /></div><p><i>Fresno has many proud sons in the service of Uncle Sam, but above is shown seven Fresnans who are in training for the aviation service at Camp Waco, Texas. The picture was received here yesterday by Sig Levy, who has been recommended for the officers' training school for aviators, from Dick Crawford, who recently enlisted in the aviation service. The boys report that they like the life. In the picture reading from left to right they are: (Upper row): Dick Crawford, Fritz Prather, Hollis Pierson, Heitzig, Bouden, Kellog, Owen, all of Fresno; and Wikarons of San Diego.</i></p><p>Then on January 27, Sig wrote:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i></i></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>Haven't heard from Dick for weeks
but saw his best girl this afternoon and she told me that he hasn't been at all
well and is a little discouraged. He is
making a big fight again to get in the officers camp for flying and I certainly
hope he makes it, because he would be a wonder.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p></p></blockquote><p>Things didn't sound great in Sig's letter to Loraine on January 31, 1928:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>I had a long letter from Dick and
he has been very sick - and really sick at heart. The poor fellow is certainly not in his
regular company, but he is so game that I think he will get hardened to it.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A few weeks went by and on February 10, 1918 Sig wrote:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i></i></p><blockquote><i>Haven't heard from Dick lately and
I imagine he is about to depart for France as they are starting the aviation
officers eastward - those who have been training in Texas.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Finally, a week later, February 17, 1918, Sig mentioned Dick again:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i></i></p><blockquote><i>At last had a letter from
Dick. He is feeling better but not any
too happy. He says he is glad that I
have a chance for a real job because his life is certainly tough and he said he
would give anything to be back home.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And the weeks went on. March 3, 1918:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>Had a long letter from Dick last
night. He says for me to have all the
fun I can while the going is good and he says this army life is a regular monk’s
life. However, he is now feeling fine
and has gained ten pounds. But all his
Fresno comrades have left to parts unknown and he is very lonesome and has no
idea when he will leave. The weather
down there is now getting dreadfully hot, but that is better than cold.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">March 19, 1918. Dick is still waiting to go - sounds like he and Sig were very close friends.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>I heard from Dick today. He is feeling fine and says he was given
almost all his battle equipment which means France any day – and he can’t wait
to go but said he wished hard to be with me for a few days before leaving, but
of course that is impossible.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">March 21, 1918. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>Later tonight I’m going to write
Dick and it will most likely be the last he will get in U.S. as I think he will
be on his way any day. Poor kid, I hate
to see him start without a higher position.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">March 28, 1918. Sounds like Dick was on his way during this past week.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i></i></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>Haven’t had a line from Dick so I
think he must have departed so I soon expect to hear from him “over there” –
you never can tell.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">April 2, 1918. Apparently, Dick hasn't left yet. I'm glad to hear he had an opportunity to visit with friends - maybe friends from Texas?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>I suppose you read where the yanks
were about to enter things head first in France. You know what that means – everybody all
aboard soon and a big shift for “over there”.
But we are going to beat them dear and beat them terrible. Heard from Dick yesterday. They are letting him have a glorious time
visiting friends as the time for leaving for France he says is any moment.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A few weeks before Sig mentioned Dick again. April 18, 1918.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>Today has been a rather peculiar
one. I heard from Dick last night – he
is in Omaha and he is in training for a master truck driver and is very
enthusiastic but working awfully hard.
But what do you think sweet – his mother died last evening. It was very sudden and the cause was
apoplexy. It will surely wreck Dick as
he was so fond of her. She was a very
fine woman and very young. I suppose
Dick will come home for the funeral.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>Sure enough. Annie Crawford died on 17 April 1918 at the young age of just 46.</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>Sadly, Dick was unable to return home for the funeral. The 'little girl' mentioned was, apparently, his girlfriend.</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>Dick’s mother’s funeral was
yesterday and he could not come. Isn’t
that tough. I guess he feels pretty blue
and his little girl is still in the sanitarium improving rather slowly.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">After a few brief mentions of Dick, Sig wrote on May 14, 1918.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>Haven’t heard from Dick for an
age. Several balloons exploded in his
camp but his folks tell me that he didn’t happen to be in the midst. He most likely will write me all about it.</i></blockquote><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>Just a few days later - May 19, 1918. I can't get enough of the loving words Sig and Loraine wrote to each other.</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>Heard from Dick and the poor
fellow is certainly working hard. He is
driving a truck all day long and says he works until he is “all in”. He will be one boy who will be happy when the
war is over. The girls out there treat
the soldiers very nice but he says he craves for the company of the real
western girl – and then he would be happy.
I supposed when I am on my way I will be worse in that regard than is
he. Saw a Red Cross picture last night
of a girl in love with a soldier boy.
Sweetheart it reminded me of you so much because she loved him so much,
and I really thought deeply of you all night.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>
</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>June 2, 1918</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></o:p></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Had
a letter from Dick yesterday. He likes
Omaha better every minute. He says the
girls out there are just showering the boys with attention. It won’t be long before Fresno will not have
any young men left. Every day bunches
are leaving. </i></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not much news about Dick until November 22, 1918.</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></o:p></p><p></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Read in the paper that Dick
Crawford is home on a furlough. Isn’t that
great. </i></span></p><p></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">November 29, 1918 - SPECIAL DELIVERY</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>And I first just left Dick and
Helen - poor kid leaves at 3 a.m. for Virginia.
He is on a furlough and tried to get discharged while here but nothing
doing. They wouldn't allow him an
extension or anything - wired him to come right back.</i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p><p></p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>December 11, 1918. Was Dick heading home now?</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></o:p></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Had
a card from Dick en route and he said his train was crowded with aviators
homeward bound. </i></span></blockquote><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">December 12, 1918. Sounds like he was on his way home.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Just
had a letter from Dick – he has arrived safely and expects his discharge before
the 15<sup>th</sup>. He says he is crazy
to get back into God’s country. </span></i></blockquote><p></p><p>December 26, 1918. Just in time for Christmas. I wonder what "quite natural" looks like.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>Dick arrived home last night and
is back for good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He changed his clothes
at once and looks quite natural.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p>January 5, 1919.<p></p><p><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve
only been with Dick once or twice since he is back as I have spent most of my
evenings writing to you and then home to bed and then thinking of you. </span></i></blockquote><p>January 14, 1919. Sounds like Dick is busy catching up.</p><p><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Don’t
hardly see Dick at all – I fear he is too busy with dates. </span></i></span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></i></p></blockquote><p>January 17, 1919. Now Dick is planning to catch up with Sig.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span></p><p></p><blockquote><i>Don’t see any of the fellows
anymore, even at night. They say they
are all too busy, but I have a date with Dick tomorrow night. I even sold his home this week – can you beat
that.</i></blockquote>January 18, 1919. And they did!<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><blockquote><i>I am up to the club with Dick and
we are having a nice visit. Just before
dinner tonight I made a deal netting $200.00 commission. Pretty good finish for the week.</i></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p>January 19, 1919. And now Dick is back to catching up with Helen.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span></p><p></p><blockquote><i>It is a beautiful sunshiny day but
I am too lazy even to go riding. Dick
just came in and he is half asleep and left to go out and see Helen. He will have to wake up or she won’t enjoy
his company. </i></blockquote><p></p><p>January 29, 1919. Lots of changes in Dick's life.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span></p><p></p><blockquote><i>I had a glimpse of Dick today –
never get a visit with him as he is too busy with his <u>women</u>. And tomorrow he is moving away out to their new
place which I leased them so I guess he won’t get down town much at
nights. With all my deals I am changing
many homes on the first of the month. </i></blockquote><p></p><p>February 14, 1919. </p><p><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></i></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dick & I are going to visit a little
while tonight. There is a soldiers night
at the armory but I’ll not go. </span></i></blockquote><p></p><p>February 15, 1919. I'm glad Sig and Dick are still 'hanging out' and I'm sure they looked dapper in their uniforms - where are the photos of that?</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span></p><p></p><blockquote><p><i>What do you think? I went out last night to the soldiers and
sailor ball. They requested me to come
so Dick & I went in uniform. It was
simply packed and quite a sight. The
music and life was quite a change for me after all my strenuous grind of hard
work. </i></p><blockquote><p><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></i></p></blockquote></blockquote><p>And as my grandmother would say, that was that. Sig and Loraine were married just 4 days later so that was all I read about Dick. It sounds like he was a special friend of Sig's but I don't know if their friendship continued after Sig was married.</p><p>I did learn that Dick followed in his father's footsteps and became an optometrist. He went on to marry Estelle Kuster and together they had two sons, Stanly Francis Crawford (1920-2009) and Edwin Dickey Crawford (1926-2013). </p><p>Edwin Dickey Crawford died on 13 Dec 1954, coincidentally the day before I was born.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2742" data-original-width="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1di7C4HJT8fXgwLIzJjkmA37MStE4T2mJqCNvE-0ZfXyWXh_jPIGd2TYXugu00iur1NsCNY0mVxRcAMeE228abRspaoAn-AoUYVRrFLQJrp2YxdS8I7WgzPFaSqPhOo_WjKk52O4DkZ0/s16000/Crawford+Dick+Obit+Fresno+Bee+14+Dec+1954+page+1.jpg" /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fresno Bee, December 14, 1954, page 1</span></i></p><p>I've contacted a few people on Ancestry who might have some knowledge of Dick but since it looks like he only had one grandchild, I'm not sure I'll hit pay dirt with those contacts.</p><p>I never heard Dick's name mentioned but since he died before I was born, I guess that's to be expected. But I'm happy to learn what a great friend he was to my grandfather during a very difficult time for both of them.</p><p> </p><blockquote><blockquote><p><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></i></p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><p><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></i></p></blockquote><p></p><p></p>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-45707048425534827842021-08-08T14:32:00.001-07:002021-08-08T14:32:59.772-07:0052 Ancestors: Favorite Name - The "other" Ferdinand<p>As you probably remember, Ferdinand Gunzendorfer was my 2nd great grandfather. He was born 1 August 1838 in Adelsdorf, Bavaria, Germany and died 20 October 1907 in Monterey, California. He was married to Fannie Goldstein in 1863 and together they had four sons - Gustave George (1864-1939), Adolph (1866-1932), Abraham (1869-1944), and Jacob (1871-1960). Abraham was the father of Mildred Loraine Gunzendorfer, my paternal grandmother. These facts are confirmed.</p><p>But there are other Gunzendorfers that I am trying to link to my Gunzendorfers. I have put together a tree for a family in New York that I <i>suspect</i> are related to my Gunzendorfers. </p><p>The most likely link of that family is Adolph Guzendorfer (1867-1943) who was born in Adelsdorf, Bavaria, Germany. From passport applications from he and his brother, Ludwig (1874-1929), their father was Bernard/Bernahard/Bernardt (1829-1908?) Adolph arrived in the United States somewhere between 1879-1888 and married Lena Wasserman 17 November 1895 in New York. </p><p>I know that Adolph and Lena had one daughter, Lenore, who was born 13 October 1896 in New York. My grandmother wrote in her 28 November 1918 letter to my grandfather, after they had announced their engagement: </p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><i>"Quite a coincidence, sweetheart. 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></blockquote><p>I know that Lenore was married on 17 June, 1919 and my grandmother was married on 23 February 1919. So if you're tracking with me, this means that Loraine's father, Abraham Gunzendorfer, was the cousin of Lenore's father, Adolph. Right? Which would mean that Abraham's father, Ferdinand, was the brother of Adolph's father, Bernard. Right? Dates of birth are within 10 years of each other so the timeline matches.</p><p>Years ago I connected with some of the New York Gunzendorfer family and this blog post reminds me that I need to get back to that. I just <i>KNOW </i>they are related to my family.</p><p>But back to my favorite name. While not necessarily my <i>favorite</i> name, the name that haunts me is Ferdinand Gunzendorfer. No, not <i>that </i>Ferdinand but this one.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRMQfer7eGGDmBlJFtkYuvhq0wsVh19ZKgFKT4eKhIoatSK1DAywptx1Q5DeabOPrAzB0hNCgN2qM9VefdKVvQXFKzrEcvmLHdVOZPWJPdy6-9tbzi7rwhwFWP1REdH-m6l7G0LfWKKA/s250/Gunzendorfer+Ferdinand+1956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="250" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRMQfer7eGGDmBlJFtkYuvhq0wsVh19ZKgFKT4eKhIoatSK1DAywptx1Q5DeabOPrAzB0hNCgN2qM9VefdKVvQXFKzrEcvmLHdVOZPWJPdy6-9tbzi7rwhwFWP1REdH-m6l7G0LfWKKA/w400-h301/Gunzendorfer+Ferdinand+1956.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Congregation of Ahavas Achim Cemetery</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>French Camp, San Joaquin County, California</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Findagrave memorial #25960680</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One little clue. My grandmother wrote on 30 September 1917 about a Dr. Franklin and said:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><blockquote>"my father's cousin in Stockton is a very good friend of his."</blockquote></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So her father, Abraham, also had a cousin in Stockton. And the cemetery above, Ahavas Achim Cemetery, is located in Stockton. But how does this Ferdinand fit in with the NY Gunzendorfers? I've searched and searched for him and, for the most part, have come up empty. I think that this Ferdinand may have actually been born in 1864 rather than 1874 as stated on the tombstone. Which would make him fairly close in age to NY Adolph. Maybe another brother to NY Adolph and his brother, Ludwig? So did Bernard name a child Ferdinand in "honor" of his brother? There are so many pieces that tie these two families together but I just can't put the puzzle together.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've thought about this for so many years and even blogged about it before. I <i>NEED </i>to get back on this and solve it once and for all!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Any suggestions?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="info" style="background-color: #6e6c68; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "Source Sans Pro", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="info" style="background-color: #6e6c68; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "Source Sans Pro", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-12487700715033877242021-07-31T13:35:00.002-07:002021-07-31T13:35:39.819-07:0052 Ancestors: Health - Sig takes a fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZ_z2mUgc98MJB5bL60tEnQIJpcbNwslXJ4KX-tn7votV5TgL4cMVnUQBozEr1kP7o1gLDVvSB_Gg8rVpBT3jebJFByMR0KnH91rFRxnnhoCSGZXjREjDWA3uBqHIS9BBFJUE-MYvF5U/s2048/Sig+c+1966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1452" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZ_z2mUgc98MJB5bL60tEnQIJpcbNwslXJ4KX-tn7votV5TgL4cMVnUQBozEr1kP7o1gLDVvSB_Gg8rVpBT3jebJFByMR0KnH91rFRxnnhoCSGZXjREjDWA3uBqHIS9BBFJUE-MYvF5U/w284-h400/Sig+c+1966.jpg" width="284" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sig Levy, c. 1966</span></i></div></i><p>This week's blog prompt reminded me of a letter that my grandfather, Sig Levy, had stashed away in the metal box where he kept many (all?) of his "important" papers which now resides in my home. I've looked through it several times and there really isn't much other than insurance policies and jewelry appraisals but each time his notes about a fall piqued my interest. So, here it is.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrhSSs37HPTtRbiliKCY40kxwJ-NSU0Cm756In7drJmgrPbDHqFQG8JMEUYkBInBp1XtPOcq7FkN7NBoLcrg7OTu1E7XjkyFMvH8QKfkGxIS2_6hcN5cSiysZ65tBRbBp0TteQqu1mzZk/s2048/Record+of+fall+1966+page+1-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1553" data-original-width="2048" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrhSSs37HPTtRbiliKCY40kxwJ-NSU0Cm756In7drJmgrPbDHqFQG8JMEUYkBInBp1XtPOcq7FkN7NBoLcrg7OTu1E7XjkyFMvH8QKfkGxIS2_6hcN5cSiysZ65tBRbBp0TteQqu1mzZk/w400-h304/Record+of+fall+1966+page+1-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDLIueVUx3PYOAFoEsghYYlTQi7cENDTCOvBafUBZRzX1xLkdfEzU9xn6ADtQCrEZpHZYo-Fch5piTTJvbEgoKXtp8aFqssMFjL1vHIKOAbtFbkwmZ7k7NeG9e9GlyFlr8iIK5MX9WBQ/s2048/Record+of+fall+1966+page+3-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1561" data-original-width="2048" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDLIueVUx3PYOAFoEsghYYlTQi7cENDTCOvBafUBZRzX1xLkdfEzU9xn6ADtQCrEZpHZYo-Fch5piTTJvbEgoKXtp8aFqssMFjL1vHIKOAbtFbkwmZ7k7NeG9e9GlyFlr8iIK5MX9WBQ/w400-h305/Record+of+fall+1966+page+3-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQLuRdfST8B1huDCqI6mEZ773MnVyFveGLXSpVY-bF7VY8OgCq3iJsOpcmTynuJRHd6I48knUvQfoDqF3uHOA1TL1mRjpL-0uCmcWh0-baSpELZUNUjjMCwB4FH8SDW9i326e3mvaXxQ/s2048/Record+of+fall+1966+page+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1357" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQLuRdfST8B1huDCqI6mEZ773MnVyFveGLXSpVY-bF7VY8OgCq3iJsOpcmTynuJRHd6I48knUvQfoDqF3uHOA1TL1mRjpL-0uCmcWh0-baSpELZUNUjjMCwB4FH8SDW9i326e3mvaXxQ/w265-h400/Record+of+fall+1966+page+5.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i></i></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><i>September 18, 1966 </i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>This is what happened to me at the Community Hospital
Fresno.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a patient under Dr. Knudson’s
care in room 429.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>He had taken me over to the hospital I believe on Monday
Sept 12 for Xrays because I had terrible pains & a swelling in my right chest
under my ribs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He suspected a stoppage
in the ducts of my pancreas and came to the house in the morning of that day
and gave me two injections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came back
again around noon time & the pain was still severe so he gave me another
apparent stronger injection and ordered me to the hospital for Xrays but by the
time I arrived at the hospital the pain had subsided & the swelling was
down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he had the Xrays performed
which took about an hour or more & he and Dr. Mayhee (?) said they could
find nothing serious after reading the Xrays.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>I was sent to my room & put to bed and ordered on a
liquid diet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During that afternoon Dr.
Nielsen came to my room; examined me & said I was OK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was on a liquid diet for 2 days – during that
time I was given several pills, a cup of liquid & a shot in the arm – all this
was given me to get ready for more xrays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This medication caused a stoppage of passing any urine so that night
they dumped (?) my bladder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
meantime they took 2 blood tests & reported all OK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then on Thursday they took me down for
another complete almost 2 hrs xray & forced liquid thru my veins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The result was that all showed OK so I wanted
to go home on Thurs but Dr. Knudsen said he wanted me to stay another night for
medication which he gave me causing me to go to the toilet to urinate about
every 20 minutes or so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So late Thurs
aft I asked the nurse if the side of the bed could be left down so I could go
to the bathroom & she said yes but that I was not to get out of bed at
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I said then you will pull up
the side of the bed & she said she would before she could go home from her
shift & that was the last I saw of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Later that eve another nurse came in and gave me 2 large red pills &
a sleeping pill and shortly after I fell in a dead sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later on I was awaken by having to urinate so
in a daze I was feeling on the bed to reach for the urinal which the previous
nurse told me to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached the tube
alongside the bed which moved & I together with the urinal fell on the side
of the bed & landing on my head & shoulders on the hard floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hurt terribly & I grabbed ahold of the
sides of the bed & tried & tried to get on my feet but the floor was so
slippery I kept falling flat on my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After about 10 minutes or more of struggling I finally made it into bed.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>At once I buzzed for a nurse and an orderly & nurse came
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told them I had a bad fall on my head
which was cut & I hurt badly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
put a tape on my head & left the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I & the bed was soaking wet & I thot they came back change my
wet bed clothes etc. but that was the last I saw of them.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Later about 10 minutes I couldn’t stand the pain & wet
any longer so I buzzed again and a different nurse came in I told her of my
fall & condition & she at once changed the bedding & gown to make
me comfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said no one told her
that I had fallen on the floor so I asked her to notify my doctor which she
said she would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later I called again
& asked a different nurse to bring me aspirin to relieve the pain which
she did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also asked to notify my
doctor & she said it had been done.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>The doctor finally arrived about 9:45 the next morning Friday. I told him of the accident & he said
they notified him during the night &
told him I wasn’t hurt badly. He at once
ordered Xrays to ascertain if I broke any bones & the result was that I had
not.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>When I hit the floor on the floor [sic] it almost knocked me out
completely but I finally struggled to bed with a painful chest & ribs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He released me for home by my wife later
Friday.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Sig Levy</i></p></blockquote><p>And almost as an afterthought, he added this.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p></p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><i>When the second nurse came in Thurs eve and gave me a
sedative even tho the previous nurse forgot to pull up the side of the bed
rails the nurse should have taken care of it because she might know I would
become dazed later in the night. It
appeared to be gross negligence on the nurse’s part. </i></blockquote><p></p><p>Why did he write this? Was he anticipating a lawsuit of some kind? Was there a lawsuit that I just haven't found evidence of? So many questions.</p><p>I wasn't quite 14 when Sig died so don't have a ton of memories of him but I'm learning that he might have been a bit quirky. He also, apparently, like to document things "just in case".</p><p>What's interesting is that just 2 years later, August 17, 1968 Sig died from pancreatic cancer. You can see that the death certificate states he'd had it for 1 year. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07bCmZ9V4eVM5NDEPqdS6TMg-1UAgoXyX0jY3mWmIY3xsC3f5Ot6xqOmCFcsDiD4OwOZAPT8M8NM90gzLLph1-RocY6lVKXwJm9_I_iVd6R_DFS7luiJOUC_R_dknD1K7ncrqbIOVamI/s2048/DC+Sigmund+Levy+redacted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1845" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07bCmZ9V4eVM5NDEPqdS6TMg-1UAgoXyX0jY3mWmIY3xsC3f5Ot6xqOmCFcsDiD4OwOZAPT8M8NM90gzLLph1-RocY6lVKXwJm9_I_iVd6R_DFS7luiJOUC_R_dknD1K7ncrqbIOVamI/w400-h360/DC+Sigmund+Levy+redacted.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>Was this event he describes above the beginning of the illness that took his life? Who knew?</p><p></p>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-20584001755792423642021-07-23T15:13:00.001-07:002021-12-04T09:38:34.133-08:0052 Ancestors: Fashion - Hats off!<p>This week's blog prompt, Fashion, had me going through some photos to discover a theme. It was then that I noticed how many hats there were in my family, particularly on the paternal side. It is amazing how many different style of hats there are. So, hats off to those in hats!</p><p>My grandmother, Loraine (Gunzendorfer) Levy, had a lot of hats. Here's a few through the years.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwMmPQYeuvZrImfgXEGbko3VO_3C76aO5vio2FUBmTCqAGgI1bJBAZwy8eqSlsSScidxGMhJfdbKQkv5CKmtS9gKYYPEQ49TRH8R7Ps6a8Sy69olDimqPNkwOOaRz9CUA5KhXKM8AyqY/s2048/Loraine+Buggy+1896.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1626" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwMmPQYeuvZrImfgXEGbko3VO_3C76aO5vio2FUBmTCqAGgI1bJBAZwy8eqSlsSScidxGMhJfdbKQkv5CKmtS9gKYYPEQ49TRH8R7Ps6a8Sy69olDimqPNkwOOaRz9CUA5KhXKM8AyqY/w318-h400/Loraine+Buggy+1896.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Mildred Loraine Gunzendorfer, 1896</i></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyJrCXCp5Gi5U4vxdIfaWvjuATfk0aZv5eUtQ7nQE2iKBPVaQ_OmHGHRBAZOrNWvI48Ubg5EvnTktbdTEgPoItQhM1Uhng6ab9o6vUBYaXrfiy6XTkJgQ491iDQCfNMP3Ga2zWrXuyQg/s712/Loraine+c+1919.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="712" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyJrCXCp5Gi5U4vxdIfaWvjuATfk0aZv5eUtQ7nQE2iKBPVaQ_OmHGHRBAZOrNWvI48Ubg5EvnTktbdTEgPoItQhM1Uhng6ab9o6vUBYaXrfiy6XTkJgQ491iDQCfNMP3Ga2zWrXuyQg/w400-h236/Loraine+c+1919.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>On her honeymoon? 1919</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I remember "back in the day" when we would dress up to fly on a plane. Looks like Loraine did just that before she took her seat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQdmlZgZqY2brId8ilQHPjcq6M0F_1q-q2TZEmlvAcYQoRIXTc0HRloqyrGOu7temVIUV1tgrMckGaefwx4UPBh_aTy_8hXOpGrq6U0dBNZr4S-98qoEoBbMAn6g5XX8XyBkBoE37srKY/s1235/Loraine+Plane.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1235" data-original-width="707" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQdmlZgZqY2brId8ilQHPjcq6M0F_1q-q2TZEmlvAcYQoRIXTc0HRloqyrGOu7temVIUV1tgrMckGaefwx4UPBh_aTy_8hXOpGrq6U0dBNZr4S-98qoEoBbMAn6g5XX8XyBkBoE37srKY/w229-h400/Loraine+Plane.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I remember Grandma wearing a hat like this.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GShO94vXz7kPFNxOocfPPnk-EHziWxmx0nWS2xTTWutXSbBjdqw4LQEKEfflB666hbBn_-9SaYdRq5VMyKvHHL15eyE-R190h6VHXL2a0Omhm1pUiZdVjar6KaopDSPr_6UByw1TdUM/s645/Page+9+-+Grandmother+back+from+Hawaii.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="645" data-original-width="644" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GShO94vXz7kPFNxOocfPPnk-EHziWxmx0nWS2xTTWutXSbBjdqw4LQEKEfflB666hbBn_-9SaYdRq5VMyKvHHL15eyE-R190h6VHXL2a0Omhm1pUiZdVjar6KaopDSPr_6UByw1TdUM/w400-h400/Page+9+-+Grandmother+back+from+Hawaii.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Grandmother back from Hawaii, c. 1959</i></div></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Her mother, Bertha (Schwartz) Gunzendorfer, also liked hats and the two of them liked to show them off together.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXqDMNR7V91l_9LbkKYn7dPLXvqSaMMo-ComcwrBOIgWGCcdjPj_egqQXtpxZK6bVdkusaRg6nXFDb4yOVoDJ1z2nBX0PmEoQf5RC5WceuN_gHkO4aQDK_trXiSHDFy05Q2ebm517Mh0/s717/Abe_Birdie_Loraine+c+1919.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="518" data-original-width="717" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXqDMNR7V91l_9LbkKYn7dPLXvqSaMMo-ComcwrBOIgWGCcdjPj_egqQXtpxZK6bVdkusaRg6nXFDb4yOVoDJ1z2nBX0PmEoQf5RC5WceuN_gHkO4aQDK_trXiSHDFy05Q2ebm517Mh0/w400-h289/Abe_Birdie_Loraine+c+1919.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Abe and Bertha (Schwartz) Gunzendorfer, Loraine Gunzendorfer c. 1919</span></i></div></i><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvKrhoHbVN-7MnQHyZ2m6euqLfdsyWmqmc2rKgivQN9sHu1jCNKLABbjWTrgVol8panVH2p_nUsOQ9o2dlC_NTQT-rCbopBbbWTHA1fSA_5mhZ6-Nx0hfRTscqq6tK1NzOnlNXafxFtk/s1240/Bertha_Schwartz+Loraine_Gunzendorfer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1240" data-original-width="718" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvKrhoHbVN-7MnQHyZ2m6euqLfdsyWmqmc2rKgivQN9sHu1jCNKLABbjWTrgVol8panVH2p_nUsOQ9o2dlC_NTQT-rCbopBbbWTHA1fSA_5mhZ6-Nx0hfRTscqq6tK1NzOnlNXafxFtk/w231-h400/Bertha_Schwartz+Loraine_Gunzendorfer.jpg" width="231" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Bertha (Schwartz) Gunzendorfer, Loraine (Gunzendorfer) Levy</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>She was sporting quite a hat at Dad's graduation from Stanford in 1949.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwz-n3hByfjWKPSHKnREsuYXapYCL8MU2dtmY5g_XwpwnxGGDb3jiHPfZXrL0XnVcO1RF517Mc4jS25JDKrQn1wM61BisTpAmlPGgIquHmyUocwCydVyLJsWQsHEA6RSbDoLQArd11ENU/s810/Bertha_Gordon+1949.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="810" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwz-n3hByfjWKPSHKnREsuYXapYCL8MU2dtmY5g_XwpwnxGGDb3jiHPfZXrL0XnVcO1RF517Mc4jS25JDKrQn1wM61BisTpAmlPGgIquHmyUocwCydVyLJsWQsHEA6RSbDoLQArd11ENU/w400-h335/Bertha_Gordon+1949.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Here's an old one - check out all of these hats! Bertha and Abe are in the front.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisHenPK_CnJkaYIQkdqqenvcGYnfK1ZiKNaLzgbwY61P52sDzU5_901PttRNHo4qiZIfkD5ZMkiJChMXSlHc747o9cUZpZO4Nss13XmKBgtR0E_ddQ7A313aujvchnv5cxBKONL5vmHNg/s1533/Abe+%2526+Bertha+Gunzendorfer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="927" data-original-width="1533" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisHenPK_CnJkaYIQkdqqenvcGYnfK1ZiKNaLzgbwY61P52sDzU5_901PttRNHo4qiZIfkD5ZMkiJChMXSlHc747o9cUZpZO4Nss13XmKBgtR0E_ddQ7A313aujvchnv5cxBKONL5vmHNg/w640-h389/Abe+%2526+Bertha+Gunzendorfer.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Even Bertha's family liked hats!<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQHRKqnHB08gS0KCYXmE33n1IyB_lUF0iT8Hjj-M12DGQ184b7NglprbvdcL7mEmtHxx7o2GG_b3_ugC0a8Ser1JKCnDkIfd0fBuZ0ZvtTWzyLHAQrEKHmcUISgXzvRdY7hf9tyfx8Gc/s1217/Schwartz+Louis+Rebecca+Milton+Colman.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1217" data-original-width="982" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQHRKqnHB08gS0KCYXmE33n1IyB_lUF0iT8Hjj-M12DGQ184b7NglprbvdcL7mEmtHxx7o2GG_b3_ugC0a8Ser1JKCnDkIfd0fBuZ0ZvtTWzyLHAQrEKHmcUISgXzvRdY7hf9tyfx8Gc/w323-h400/Schwartz+Louis+Rebecca+Milton+Colman.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Parents Louis and Rebecca (Steen) Schwartz, </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Brothers Milton and Colman Schwartz</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Looks like little Colman didn't have a hat - but he found a few!</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5VomKoctMPXjceZgDT8PbEK0JHP9kaod-O2BAK2piSWBMfLOkS20ue3SXSYduJ8FejT9ab_5e32-I9fiHO61_jhO5r6yC-6R5D06ZBl7NV8dfPBhsCIywRfS0WeB23otfq5MQBY2tME/s546/Schwartz+Colman+cropped.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="546" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5VomKoctMPXjceZgDT8PbEK0JHP9kaod-O2BAK2piSWBMfLOkS20ue3SXSYduJ8FejT9ab_5e32-I9fiHO61_jhO5r6yC-6R5D06ZBl7NV8dfPBhsCIywRfS0WeB23otfq5MQBY2tME/w400-h378/Schwartz+Colman+cropped.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Colman Schwartz, 1890</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH-vpm38_wDJ4KnCnEURqqLYQsdO-WUwF4_Xt5pH3hOoAi3bfL0h-okpEvvZoS6gvvzD8wDrZSlOCtaYBeyNifcmo7r2F6BfrBzz96U17dIftWxqLmLaQ5HDcFaFeBaPKRhZLoEqC2JiQ/s1461/Schwartz+Colman+1896.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1461" data-original-width="924" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH-vpm38_wDJ4KnCnEURqqLYQsdO-WUwF4_Xt5pH3hOoAi3bfL0h-okpEvvZoS6gvvzD8wDrZSlOCtaYBeyNifcmo7r2F6BfrBzz96U17dIftWxqLmLaQ5HDcFaFeBaPKRhZLoEqC2JiQ/w253-h400/Schwartz+Colman+1896.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Colman Schwartz, 1896</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>And the Levys liked hats, too!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6puczvjwc5vcW7RCyPj6-qQzge1-zx7rneO8v3mzZ3BR47PcdLZ-oc1RYnTp-iPBOP5TAcF7wBBW77fE7_ca3mKD5QJZlCjdK0-9mDJUXk3NXQm0U03QnBpfJkj18OtvYwMYdPGr8WdQ/s932/Hello+Neighbor+Excursion+1914+Sig+5th+from+right.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="932" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6puczvjwc5vcW7RCyPj6-qQzge1-zx7rneO8v3mzZ3BR47PcdLZ-oc1RYnTp-iPBOP5TAcF7wBBW77fE7_ca3mKD5QJZlCjdK0-9mDJUXk3NXQm0U03QnBpfJkj18OtvYwMYdPGr8WdQ/w640-h410/Hello+Neighbor+Excursion+1914+Sig+5th+from+right.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sig Levy, 5th from the right - you'll see that style of hat again</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8bfyM26Q9_QtUzcgKKE-UVwGwpfnWtBMyQvB4yZMH5cRgKtNqTeoQm8Ws8BW7PvDUvV6_wMuwByZWeFO693tf2P8HsWeBX-wETcQ1m5lSaCGn2cyG0HNeXjvQGtMtuC8T1ExIDD82sQ/s2048/Jack+Marvin+Alyce+Moffett+Sig+Levy+6_6_1957+Fresno+Realty+Board.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1619" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8bfyM26Q9_QtUzcgKKE-UVwGwpfnWtBMyQvB4yZMH5cRgKtNqTeoQm8Ws8BW7PvDUvV6_wMuwByZWeFO693tf2P8HsWeBX-wETcQ1m5lSaCGn2cyG0HNeXjvQGtMtuC8T1ExIDD82sQ/w316-h400/Jack+Marvin+Alyce+Moffett+Sig+Levy+6_6_1957+Fresno+Realty+Board.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sig on the right with his WWI hat on</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoYdeYj94KqBEgEzY8lu4PV7OSkEnJbL5jsWut0mZrVmI4TlUZpDEIL2nqbifvHBezIph0nDsVY55Dlo7zEEuGv1VDdHR9LjS54zOja1x26M2lfkKfD_jfKEBmywuswr9-YMtJ4UQAVs/s1543/Sig+Costume.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1543" data-original-width="792" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoYdeYj94KqBEgEzY8lu4PV7OSkEnJbL5jsWut0mZrVmI4TlUZpDEIL2nqbifvHBezIph0nDsVY55Dlo7zEEuGv1VDdHR9LjS54zOja1x26M2lfkKfD_jfKEBmywuswr9-YMtJ4UQAVs/w205-h400/Sig+Costume.jpg" width="205" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Sig Levy, ready for a costume party</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Looks like Sig posing while on his honeymoon. Is that the same hat?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHydEBGKy9vcOCvyngmOb0IZ1lZwvL4EiSKecsnqbPdGHsnVBl7BB6rPy6R6_C9alegq_nN61_7-4bTuLeLHFAinrIiCWfGiE4Kn-p2BGIScjvIlTaZAwhaCI25hx7FgZ8FpgdQJrgZ8/s678/Sig+Levy+c+1919.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="454" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHydEBGKy9vcOCvyngmOb0IZ1lZwvL4EiSKecsnqbPdGHsnVBl7BB6rPy6R6_C9alegq_nN61_7-4bTuLeLHFAinrIiCWfGiE4Kn-p2BGIScjvIlTaZAwhaCI25hx7FgZ8FpgdQJrgZ8/w268-h400/Sig+Levy+c+1919.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57zSBX5MmnamIXyW9pEDMXielg7AFDpDXq6dGf84yjjzMcp8sAvvypM7qhijuakqRdpTWGrKqzPnz2A2V8pb7rja1xt-2kLauv2IOONkCjZGy2FazjZIbiN0i7d2ez1Tt4mLLHBx6anY/s995/Sig+Snowball.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="994" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57zSBX5MmnamIXyW9pEDMXielg7AFDpDXq6dGf84yjjzMcp8sAvvypM7qhijuakqRdpTWGrKqzPnz2A2V8pb7rja1xt-2kLauv2IOONkCjZGy2FazjZIbiN0i7d2ez1Tt4mLLHBx6anY/w400-h400/Sig+Snowball.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Keeping the head warm!</i></span></div><div><br /></div><br /><div>My dad liked hats, too. I remember in the 60's he always matched a hat to his suit. Sadly, I haven't found any photos of that. Check out this hat!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ6Jw99UfnPZ11wz0AAIPYqdCxnqGbT1CoJwOlNP82wLpfzOlgBTYiwgAUXD8v6LZgYv5n5qKacWljdevZSjza83BlCyvLgH_MiJATFyskrJIprJFInxiGq6sO4LrArXkEeW9DxofCGcQ/s911/Gordon+Levy+Vancouver+BC+August+1936.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="601" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ6Jw99UfnPZ11wz0AAIPYqdCxnqGbT1CoJwOlNP82wLpfzOlgBTYiwgAUXD8v6LZgYv5n5qKacWljdevZSjza83BlCyvLgH_MiJATFyskrJIprJFInxiGq6sO4LrArXkEeW9DxofCGcQ/w264-h400/Gordon+Levy+Vancouver+BC+August+1936.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Gordon Levy, Vancouver BC, 1936 - Like father, like son</i></span></div><br /><div>This one is a little goofy but SO "Dad".</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialWgcLxywpiJOlF0H40JsZ4uzSxgGCiy4ay3Ha7Q3Jn1sm1tbaVUWDTAd1KIEo4jEu_z1Xcq6pXLSlGnpKU88ulCg7ZKiCAxAAEdsCcH5xBrlVbEthGQIfd9o2M-mZDbTPvHJTtxmApY/s2048/Gordon+in+hat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialWgcLxywpiJOlF0H40JsZ4uzSxgGCiy4ay3Ha7Q3Jn1sm1tbaVUWDTAd1KIEo4jEu_z1Xcq6pXLSlGnpKU88ulCg7ZKiCAxAAEdsCcH5xBrlVbEthGQIfd9o2M-mZDbTPvHJTtxmApY/w214-h400/Gordon+in+hat.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Gordon and Gerry (Martin) Levy</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Believe it or not, the hats got even goofier.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3QmzT54L1b7j0OhrIQqm_jNHWBwu87US9B4_G_gmm8qWkQcy2QwTNSVRz3HhtbNYsMtPIf6sP8cvc1XtLZZW6PVwqCRgAuXP2DaFXutrOCAfEngVi3vmufwPd5_fGdIf913lWEiz7yM/s1391/Gordon+and+Gerry+1981.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="1391" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3QmzT54L1b7j0OhrIQqm_jNHWBwu87US9B4_G_gmm8qWkQcy2QwTNSVRz3HhtbNYsMtPIf6sP8cvc1XtLZZW6PVwqCRgAuXP2DaFXutrOCAfEngVi3vmufwPd5_fGdIf913lWEiz7yM/w400-h253/Gordon+and+Gerry+1981.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Now they're ready for a costume party</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_F6WEr_OPl8FzdjUG1jY29LJun5ZZzlyOVFRPWVXByi3TNXoJs1V6qPgvehPNImYs2vzHLUJcnCb7AMeKXOWXhCT39ylkf1IRXMRXlws54wAB1oNUbH06Mrgn4U9xqt7IBKouOWtKgDI/s2048/Gordon+Rain+Slicker.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_F6WEr_OPl8FzdjUG1jY29LJun5ZZzlyOVFRPWVXByi3TNXoJs1V6qPgvehPNImYs2vzHLUJcnCb7AMeKXOWXhCT39ylkf1IRXMRXlws54wAB1oNUbH06Mrgn4U9xqt7IBKouOWtKgDI/w400-h268/Gordon+Rain+Slicker.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Keeping his head warm AND dry!</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrh2dDM5WPvz6JW545e0-3zHb-_kFtBllMoKH6MjZ9vBkuLgH2sliStuTTncw97FdKxQLRxbZWFB_42jv8GHYsVABlT6OJcWofUbSnRJKtilNV2jSjejan173b2ZQUlM2VA7DP7SLJA5o/s2048/Gordon+Card+Hat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1737" data-original-width="2048" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrh2dDM5WPvz6JW545e0-3zHb-_kFtBllMoKH6MjZ9vBkuLgH2sliStuTTncw97FdKxQLRxbZWFB_42jv8GHYsVABlT6OJcWofUbSnRJKtilNV2jSjejan173b2ZQUlM2VA7DP7SLJA5o/w400-h339/Gordon+Card+Hat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Crazy Hat Night at Family Camp</i></div></span><div><br /><div>Even my sister and I got into the act.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrSkF92uyc_mcp4-FNqR2QiYe28C16MW8fcWujxyjQRBWs2r1iBCUpQHFWijt_19EidbhaA9s5PS4oVWwgJc_P1MBdNXpE2oTBhTAMjyd462MoYEql_8T4Si0U46z2VTgBolqseWxUhA/s909/Page+20+-+What+a+pair+Debi+Cary+1959.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="909" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrSkF92uyc_mcp4-FNqR2QiYe28C16MW8fcWujxyjQRBWs2r1iBCUpQHFWijt_19EidbhaA9s5PS4oVWwgJc_P1MBdNXpE2oTBhTAMjyd462MoYEql_8T4Si0U46z2VTgBolqseWxUhA/w400-h380/Page+20+-+What+a+pair+Debi+Cary+1959.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>What a pose!</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>And a few of our own creations from Crazy Hat Nights.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKRTCUCZl69a3NuxHZ9GGhM2OhQqloB1UciV_M9ZITWZyh8OFfC9cEJLT2ayK8VW1LGuog6xV1ach9Z8UX8wY2kHO7y6O1-nNFs6Zczp-vlvlUHjf10_8oblto59c70F0N14g3GMo3NQ/s892/Page+11+-+Christian+Dior+Creations+Family+Camp+1958+-+CaryLevy_DebiLevy_unknown.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="892" data-original-width="834" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKRTCUCZl69a3NuxHZ9GGhM2OhQqloB1UciV_M9ZITWZyh8OFfC9cEJLT2ayK8VW1LGuog6xV1ach9Z8UX8wY2kHO7y6O1-nNFs6Zczp-vlvlUHjf10_8oblto59c70F0N14g3GMo3NQ/w374-h400/Page+11+-+Christian+Dior+Creations+Family+Camp+1958+-+CaryLevy_DebiLevy_unknown.jpg" width="374" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I'm in the middle - 1958</i></span></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4pRN1Kt1UxK8PdaRMQ7rfPVu0AUU0gn9ANziiRjeDDWOVUPftJjsGGt5JfXjvSLgI6Nq9_fhCdcLQ06c8zP841odkbJC3sCwv-p09bWVzqF9SG8CTCO2oIz8QZo-OfqpdqJNGiiaZFc/s1116/Page+28+-+Family+Camp+1961.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="845" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4pRN1Kt1UxK8PdaRMQ7rfPVu0AUU0gn9ANziiRjeDDWOVUPftJjsGGt5JfXjvSLgI6Nq9_fhCdcLQ06c8zP841odkbJC3sCwv-p09bWVzqF9SG8CTCO2oIz8QZo-OfqpdqJNGiiaZFc/s320/Page+28+-+Family+Camp+1961.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>1961</i></div></span><div><br /></div><div>But the most elaborate hat I came across was modeled by my grandmother's first cousin, Henrietta Schwartz. Grandma's mother (Bertha Schwartz) was the younger sister of Henrietta's father, Joseph Schwartz. Maybe she was going to the Kentucky Derby?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3pP-uWCOoiYgoLCuggHg0WyYEmV4O5HyCpIxQt07F_Hm6_c22ITXPQRbWB5lgB_sOAyX7TbiqTW2Mv0pzUY026gyV1mcmbW38zERH1snijPwpIqfYyWFFD_BSVGysLs56AVjwpd-apk/s2048/Schwartz+Henrietta.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1495" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3pP-uWCOoiYgoLCuggHg0WyYEmV4O5HyCpIxQt07F_Hm6_c22ITXPQRbWB5lgB_sOAyX7TbiqTW2Mv0pzUY026gyV1mcmbW38zERH1snijPwpIqfYyWFFD_BSVGysLs56AVjwpd-apk/w293-h400/Schwartz+Henrietta.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Henrietta Schwartz, date unknown</i></span></div><div><br /></div></div><div>That's a lot of hats!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-62056618299413677422021-07-18T13:55:00.002-07:002021-12-04T09:26:14.909-08:0052 Ancestors: Transportation - It takes all kinds<p>This week's blog prompt reminded me of a few posts I've already written about Transportation. You can refresh your memory here.</p><p><a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2019/10/52-ancestors-transportation.html" target="_blank">TRANSPORTATION</a></p><p><a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2017/08/national-aviation-day-2017.html" target="_blank">NATIONAL AVIATION DAY</a></p><p><a href="https://who-knew-it.blogspot.com/2017/08/machines-and-roadsters-and-carsoh-my.html" target="_blank">MACHINES AND ROADSTERS AND CARS...OH MY!</a></p><p>As I looked through my photos to find a transportation theme, I came across many different forms of transportation, some of which we don't often think about as transportation. But if it gets you from Point A to Point B, it's transportation in my book. Sit back while I have some fun!</p><p>Of course, a car is what typically comes to mind. And I have lots of photos of people beside or inside cars. My favorite might be this picture of me with big sister and Mom - maybe in Hawaii (based on big sister's clothes) in 1961. Wait - Mom looks pregnant which she was in 1961 so this is probably correct.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHS_BzHjJLXFy_d-So6VQAUn3RA_qc96F7EhZOEL_l-sHpyUXp2GZpou5tsiqWP8UFb-dLTTMHetuCeQcDaZMCbND7N2vR0IJdQj2jRgsWVixB5q5zvDGUjrmR8hwA23R4hlbW9Vt7rdQ/s2048/Car.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1396" data-original-width="2048" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHS_BzHjJLXFy_d-So6VQAUn3RA_qc96F7EhZOEL_l-sHpyUXp2GZpou5tsiqWP8UFb-dLTTMHetuCeQcDaZMCbND7N2vR0IJdQj2jRgsWVixB5q5zvDGUjrmR8hwA23R4hlbW9Vt7rdQ/w400-h272/Car.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>And then this classic of Dad in a car. I have a vague memory of this car - probably the car they had when I was a small child. Am I remembering correctly that it's a 1957 Chevy? And the house doesn't look familiar so, perhaps, it's the house on Cheryl Way they moved from in 1958?<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWy9JCbN3JYUVtscoJXkeq-QIvzqEl595ocGmgZVu0HePW5bobP72hqkpi8bgk0VNxcmNU_kJ9p0RPG4bCea_kLOLaHWzjxZ9CHKxxe9o6erXkR5JTzYnlyf-UWhfgzjwq1MyhpL7RbU/s2048/Gordon+Chevy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2034" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWy9JCbN3JYUVtscoJXkeq-QIvzqEl595ocGmgZVu0HePW5bobP72hqkpi8bgk0VNxcmNU_kJ9p0RPG4bCea_kLOLaHWzjxZ9CHKxxe9o6erXkR5JTzYnlyf-UWhfgzjwq1MyhpL7RbU/w398-h400/Gordon+Chevy.jpg" width="398" /></a></div><br /><div>There you go, Dad, this looks like quite a classic!</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVPY-Z6tDZSLRSZYCqep7xhs9jSl5cTirDaIn_EaN6nwHluOc-wLzMYRUpLfMJGv_LV9gNFYLt2EAK7eyw3LRxDr6-x9b_Dalgsarwuyss0F9AQnjCAU2qd8wczvXGFwi857RJbq0Asg/s2048/Gordon+Car.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1304" data-original-width="2048" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVPY-Z6tDZSLRSZYCqep7xhs9jSl5cTirDaIn_EaN6nwHluOc-wLzMYRUpLfMJGv_LV9gNFYLt2EAK7eyw3LRxDr6-x9b_Dalgsarwuyss0F9AQnjCAU2qd8wczvXGFwi857RJbq0Asg/w400-h255/Gordon+Car.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>This must be a "prop" from somewhere - but where? Reminds me of what my grandmother used to refer to as a "machine". Looks like fun!</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3Gc60_ewUNXTDLZWLURHf82XXgtv7q3oRtcYV8oyFZzAEADdLFkmJa3K4V-0ylT8tkUWKOy5COxfrHQDl6ygZiRNsHayt1HfmwZcmogG5VuRExbHSt3NhPtdj3FYoRXxdzKd37QFFy4/s2048/Model+T.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1701" data-original-width="2048" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3Gc60_ewUNXTDLZWLURHf82XXgtv7q3oRtcYV8oyFZzAEADdLFkmJa3K4V-0ylT8tkUWKOy5COxfrHQDl6ygZiRNsHayt1HfmwZcmogG5VuRExbHSt3NhPtdj3FYoRXxdzKd37QFFy4/w400-h333/Model+T.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Not really much of a photo - just a mom and her kids packing up to go somewhere, maybe family camp or the beach? What really caught my eye, though, is the car in the garage - if I remember it is a Buick Skylark (1962?) which is the car I learned to drive in. And if I remember correctly, at one point my sister and I "shared" this car to use to go back and forth to school.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviuTF6vbRSwBUt2bTDmEXhZy_2Ly1gvWJWEOLwBKJaafnvWXKmdTsvPG2SnaxOI6VDhVJ4vxjoAQ4UXlUs3lLHbvHscnpeOzoqV9stm3TZzbCdxyaHrjq7DHSgSNPfrdHf0jVJdfFxSI/s2048/Skylark.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1419" data-original-width="2048" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviuTF6vbRSwBUt2bTDmEXhZy_2Ly1gvWJWEOLwBKJaafnvWXKmdTsvPG2SnaxOI6VDhVJ4vxjoAQ4UXlUs3lLHbvHscnpeOzoqV9stm3TZzbCdxyaHrjq7DHSgSNPfrdHf0jVJdfFxSI/w400-h278/Skylark.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Here's a few different cars and trucks. I think this must have been the Homecoming "parade" in 1969.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyCZSnDfw556tSgIsYtuCYPUb06kOEnUb8HWAGT-IEpnjKPk6-YaZnydee4lZkIFbdTLqrJqN1vKwCU4mhTqVGnMMSWHIZvmQvl6g-zqET-MFTsFDxyUWkva3pxt2WpF0reIdr3wsDsA/s2048/Pioneer+Homecoming.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1384" data-original-width="2048" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyCZSnDfw556tSgIsYtuCYPUb06kOEnUb8HWAGT-IEpnjKPk6-YaZnydee4lZkIFbdTLqrJqN1vKwCU4mhTqVGnMMSWHIZvmQvl6g-zqET-MFTsFDxyUWkva3pxt2WpF0reIdr3wsDsA/w400-h270/Pioneer+Homecoming.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Haha - this was quite a car. I remember loving that Disneyland ride because it felt like you were really driving.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_CJax1OxAmzC-zqYm9hC_CafQgNKeZWWgil-WCvRFtRgjA2l9Lq5dRU4BKjUQ7NfBktMDJRyF_GXirxDi1P-y3QXnoleuJbYe6VJEIqeayYSik0CN-9xHMlof8kpMLeXcWxkW_FfQBw/s2048/Autopia.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1633" data-original-width="2048" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_CJax1OxAmzC-zqYm9hC_CafQgNKeZWWgil-WCvRFtRgjA2l9Lq5dRU4BKjUQ7NfBktMDJRyF_GXirxDi1P-y3QXnoleuJbYe6VJEIqeayYSik0CN-9xHMlof8kpMLeXcWxkW_FfQBw/w400-h319/Autopia.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And then we start getting a little more obscure. But donkeys are a good way of getting around, aren't they?</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HzvaD7p7AWFhZsmi1Z8BmMmAQANVPDLmfaSFhMJfAMkmSYC-6vob-23OOZtfI7CDWTjzUYYM13ODenI1DUsgPG05JU4vpbd12E0GjlvyV3GEz5tUme5koOVnOlkmciPI1UtzxPBw8pw/s838/Burros.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="838" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HzvaD7p7AWFhZsmi1Z8BmMmAQANVPDLmfaSFhMJfAMkmSYC-6vob-23OOZtfI7CDWTjzUYYM13ODenI1DUsgPG05JU4vpbd12E0GjlvyV3GEz5tUme5koOVnOlkmciPI1UtzxPBw8pw/w640-h336/Burros.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>A few years later, we "graduated" to horses. Boy did we have fun with these two!<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_A2OP0WABSP9Ha5XaN1lKjesmlQH6U5296Rj81eLCcDkhJmsL01-C48-BX7veeC4LEawO4O3N3ME9jr5B0_Yi1EAvtVN3TBC-ml5b6hyMJuifcNHXje1TZ6UGQ7WMoQogwtN7i_gfcEg/s2048/On+Horses.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="2048" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_A2OP0WABSP9Ha5XaN1lKjesmlQH6U5296Rj81eLCcDkhJmsL01-C48-BX7veeC4LEawO4O3N3ME9jr5B0_Yi1EAvtVN3TBC-ml5b6hyMJuifcNHXje1TZ6UGQ7WMoQogwtN7i_gfcEg/w400-h271/On+Horses.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Little brother didn't get very far on his horse.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiPNzOK1sTDt27eeXCri0GuopWpULEgX3NSmt7pI1xYUZY-WwcOTMh-uu0-4aLoKPTjeC4Ebo6BoLB7gNzEirJ2n-TnBG118SvCxDjxcNxuwURDrQdKaQC68GBDjZyl49Ab2sCQ3SiN8/s2048/Rocking+Horse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1628" data-original-width="2048" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiPNzOK1sTDt27eeXCri0GuopWpULEgX3NSmt7pI1xYUZY-WwcOTMh-uu0-4aLoKPTjeC4Ebo6BoLB7gNzEirJ2n-TnBG118SvCxDjxcNxuwURDrQdKaQC68GBDjZyl49Ab2sCQ3SiN8/w400-h318/Rocking+Horse.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course boats are a form of transportation. Some for many people....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNURmJNR2Fou8xwjM1yqfNKeId78JGNie0gLwCIqBwJ1DxAbMq5gX-yrrRVfJhw6RdfkEkaGREKkCrwlHdyAAoEsEc3SXNGfEkFZIcktuE2n42jHWKmEH4xVjEu6Z2Fjppevb7aQsQdo/s2048/Navy+Ship.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1438" data-original-width="2048" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNURmJNR2Fou8xwjM1yqfNKeId78JGNie0gLwCIqBwJ1DxAbMq5gX-yrrRVfJhw6RdfkEkaGREKkCrwlHdyAAoEsEc3SXNGfEkFZIcktuE2n42jHWKmEH4xVjEu6Z2Fjppevb7aQsQdo/w400-h281/Navy+Ship.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And some for just a few.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYnauWujnHlrs3pI4Y2EQYNkRAnzsGOO1ZVUpDLSENoI2Gc0p0NBLW3otD0fX3DFj1ZZ90Af4FIHCX7ZIK8cuTiKRRUhXYpistGAaSuHlkh6Euzg7WuTJz4zDUA7Sqq0-udNPSYbeBquo/s2048/Lake+Tahoe.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1206" data-original-width="2048" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYnauWujnHlrs3pI4Y2EQYNkRAnzsGOO1ZVUpDLSENoI2Gc0p0NBLW3otD0fX3DFj1ZZ90Af4FIHCX7ZIK8cuTiKRRUhXYpistGAaSuHlkh6Euzg7WuTJz4zDUA7Sqq0-udNPSYbeBquo/w400-h235/Lake+Tahoe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lake Tahoe - I'm holding the little kid.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>We were always forbidden to ride a motorcycle - hopefully this is as close as little brother got.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJxjYPxkou7uxwkquCT41YNTXjP-1poVvX7jtim26QSpRTmZXChiGvNwgHY5x3nR0nSLv_iSi5LLY-HYSecHUnijTBgtVMziECK31K9Ehx4lc_dVwvCIZfcEJ0DhYwCdXCX2k7mrEvjg/s2048/Motorcyle.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1765" data-original-width="2048" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJxjYPxkou7uxwkquCT41YNTXjP-1poVvX7jtim26QSpRTmZXChiGvNwgHY5x3nR0nSLv_iSi5LLY-HYSecHUnijTBgtVMziECK31K9Ehx4lc_dVwvCIZfcEJ0DhYwCdXCX2k7mrEvjg/w400-h345/Motorcyle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Of course there are many ways to get from Point A to Point B at Disneyland. The Monorail or Skyway....</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtX4uYG8ndhZXiAs2bw9eyVBOzyT930GvG6XNAZcQLIl4ftqDWBABb90n8D6HcsPqPM0CCfiygRfa07u1KIKJJ0KW7KlfivpTio9RvcHN8wdCw5X8YoS-fZ7yiESE_-jD5lsfWGdIB3c/s2048/Monorail.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2037" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtX4uYG8ndhZXiAs2bw9eyVBOzyT930GvG6XNAZcQLIl4ftqDWBABb90n8D6HcsPqPM0CCfiygRfa07u1KIKJJ0KW7KlfivpTio9RvcHN8wdCw5X8YoS-fZ7yiESE_-jD5lsfWGdIB3c/w398-h400/Monorail.jpg" width="398" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The Matterhorn.....</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZm4OKeToajzpNZTHOCERS-HfMXd1neIvq_dy5kI33W5HpmwlgUWPY305iKwC-41UuSnMTaEITL5q9dLfIAnj8ICoT5IX3nguD67JO88Mh1uR6lvTGNL1X4hfn39l3TtUbGd22CzBG4H4/s2048/Matterhorn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1653" data-original-width="2048" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZm4OKeToajzpNZTHOCERS-HfMXd1neIvq_dy5kI33W5HpmwlgUWPY305iKwC-41UuSnMTaEITL5q9dLfIAnj8ICoT5IX3nguD67JO88Mh1uR6lvTGNL1X4hfn39l3TtUbGd22CzBG4H4/w400-h323/Matterhorn.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Or the Caterpillar to travel through the Looking Glass.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi23hri-09unriwBepNap84tQ17nuycmz0xkbYCWhI5Ykc75UoYJXHhsdt7ShyphenhyphenqYSo2OlGUzYoHCHlbFXLudhZ0zjbHALqUiKSDO5XbAQUFxfOKUh2ikNkev9Uq3-00unIXmajv-6b4nI/s2048/Alice+in+Wonderland.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1746" data-original-width="2048" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi23hri-09unriwBepNap84tQ17nuycmz0xkbYCWhI5Ykc75UoYJXHhsdt7ShyphenhyphenqYSo2OlGUzYoHCHlbFXLudhZ0zjbHALqUiKSDO5XbAQUFxfOKUh2ikNkev9Uq3-00unIXmajv-6b4nI/w400-h341/Alice+in+Wonderland.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few other modes of transportation. I think Mom may have made a friend during one of their trips - maybe he was their guide for the jeep?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPrEAu-k3oFH1W2Z89IN4RQOgreCRumCXKC6QZ9BE45aS4-TVXg3jQvAkCfVXrT-SjWcYkOQ-ehDytUoxc6he6I3zbnkcUjacL_k95wXbpKYF0rlH4pMGFz7MbfxKnWXPdOwu3ommsv5A/s2048/Jeep.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1919" data-original-width="2048" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPrEAu-k3oFH1W2Z89IN4RQOgreCRumCXKC6QZ9BE45aS4-TVXg3jQvAkCfVXrT-SjWcYkOQ-ehDytUoxc6he6I3zbnkcUjacL_k95wXbpKYF0rlH4pMGFz7MbfxKnWXPdOwu3ommsv5A/w400-h375/Jeep.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Now this is an interesting contraption. But looks like we were having fun - or at least little brother was!<div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0QhPk1HhyqBUCdixtW10wu3q6C6SYkW9_oTSNcm2F9HjLf5WVC4xFqI5nylfXUpW3ScDdBh2vF75emT2A_dBkdLPWNuG00obpCz7FKU-ojPuIkXJDBrqw7nGQr8xVDTNmutfn3TvYoE/s2048/Carousel+Swing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1693" data-original-width="2048" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0QhPk1HhyqBUCdixtW10wu3q6C6SYkW9_oTSNcm2F9HjLf5WVC4xFqI5nylfXUpW3ScDdBh2vF75emT2A_dBkdLPWNuG00obpCz7FKU-ojPuIkXJDBrqw7nGQr8xVDTNmutfn3TvYoE/w400-h331/Carousel+Swing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Stage coach was a comfortable way to get from Point A to Point B back in the day.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim2JFwtPWwGc0D0PhLcJPKUYWoJxAgRioZgZxt-fqv0O8NrgIOqVIet83PmAx7UV2zwW9POkSNGz7oduUqJKTfE6oEPH5J9apnSdMCzc1wLfrmsF7YBxYWZbOtg4RJLOL5vJsyAfzG-0/s2048/Stage+Coach.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2002" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim2JFwtPWwGc0D0PhLcJPKUYWoJxAgRioZgZxt-fqv0O8NrgIOqVIet83PmAx7UV2zwW9POkSNGz7oduUqJKTfE6oEPH5J9apnSdMCzc1wLfrmsF7YBxYWZbOtg4RJLOL5vJsyAfzG-0/s320/Stage+Coach.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3wNXrJ8xrffq9OTJ_YER3xFaTHH2mse1nANkUu0V36vyGEFS4ZQ6waHVG3JyEiczsMHb3MebAUaWFTMI6aRLzg-x6Gz_fFI1KZp1AUik4JHKcmvSz-oqSg5pGPP5vCslmSmymN6OkqQ/s2048/Stagecoach.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1357" data-original-width="2048" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3wNXrJ8xrffq9OTJ_YER3xFaTHH2mse1nANkUu0V36vyGEFS4ZQ6waHVG3JyEiczsMHb3MebAUaWFTMI6aRLzg-x6Gz_fFI1KZp1AUik4JHKcmvSz-oqSg5pGPP5vCslmSmymN6OkqQ/w400-h265/Stagecoach.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></blockquote><br /><div>My cousin is taking the fun way to get into the water.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXm2kF9L7XodhEwjO22XY6HM0raERFEfNXntXs1K07u6tspPdjXeTr_RqKLF0EqzwApka89HEjDm0lLcWvPSUE6AV8CVD8ID8KamG4m6mf2QPkksh21AhI6qr9mdgEm9It_VoFaMkO9l8/s2048/Marcia+Slide.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1996" data-original-width="2048" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXm2kF9L7XodhEwjO22XY6HM0raERFEfNXntXs1K07u6tspPdjXeTr_RqKLF0EqzwApka89HEjDm0lLcWvPSUE6AV8CVD8ID8KamG4m6mf2QPkksh21AhI6qr9mdgEm9It_VoFaMkO9l8/w400-h390/Marcia+Slide.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Of course planes are a common form of transportation. I think that's me bringing up the rear.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOr8jvz_eUFFGS5s-wV8KYooLq_Biu7WqEdJX1VNoIF9MNlIxvTGy6PJryRvbVaxDwHwCutFgA9o5G8YqaUv6j_Bvkxdqdwx2y_xt-byJa0BdXjf6E7XdtC9wTJqG2CvbDL5zVZtb5bis/s2048/United+Airlines.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1375" data-original-width="2048" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOr8jvz_eUFFGS5s-wV8KYooLq_Biu7WqEdJX1VNoIF9MNlIxvTGy6PJryRvbVaxDwHwCutFgA9o5G8YqaUv6j_Bvkxdqdwx2y_xt-byJa0BdXjf6E7XdtC9wTJqG2CvbDL5zVZtb5bis/w400-h269/United+Airlines.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Mom didn't have much of an adventurous streak which is why she just stood <i>beside</i> the Mercury.</div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbwd3uFfqAsto7sSESn3-gt9axSMfJWEVK5MJfRlVgHLrWLBweLe_DYw3SEHzmiN8ysVGULo1WOLkH-0RZdfC8H26w2CUPl6y5k3F-UwG8Tc9tdvEGBB0MlaoHZFX21ABFG1Fjl463Lc/s2048/Mercury.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="2048" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjbwd3uFfqAsto7sSESn3-gt9axSMfJWEVK5MJfRlVgHLrWLBweLe_DYw3SEHzmiN8ysVGULo1WOLkH-0RZdfC8H26w2CUPl6y5k3F-UwG8Tc9tdvEGBB0MlaoHZFX21ABFG1Fjl463Lc/w400-h394/Mercury.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>That's a lot of forms of transportation. But none was as unusual as this. A SNAIL?????</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx8kTjq_kjKRGGl7KnyOuVzqiv1ImldPUFvvMlxMLWIy-PYW9d0l6LO-Rxmz4Oi2dIobEoOBz8aWYTPRIWJetA06QCjQQ8El05wKMld9ewo3i299MsRdgOOT4Y5Sellz_ZmWAB5LtVcV4/s2048/Snail.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1383" data-original-width="2048" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx8kTjq_kjKRGGl7KnyOuVzqiv1ImldPUFvvMlxMLWIy-PYW9d0l6LO-Rxmz4Oi2dIobEoOBz8aWYTPRIWJetA06QCjQQ8El05wKMld9ewo3i299MsRdgOOT4Y5Sellz_ZmWAB5LtVcV4/w640-h432/Snail.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3930899264249549964.post-35372073947840337752021-06-25T16:13:00.001-07:002021-10-08T13:05:01.175-07:0052 Ancestors: Groups - Fresno Grammar School<p>Several years ago I ran across this photo.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaWTyU0naOoAhoqchyphenhyphenQ_vaUUyuCNsIyaXqvQ2516ZX3pHYjoTk8pPCa6tnRKkhuNh7KRgJL3-NMKNKptsb_P1PQ-f3KjZtqKQXeVp-16WadqaKWDmH_rQvheFRLU6fTlfr9BzN1z2TDE/s2048/1902+Grammar+School+Original+Sig+Levy+front+row+2nd+from+left.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1165" data-original-width="2048" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaWTyU0naOoAhoqchyphenhyphenQ_vaUUyuCNsIyaXqvQ2516ZX3pHYjoTk8pPCa6tnRKkhuNh7KRgJL3-NMKNKptsb_P1PQ-f3KjZtqKQXeVp-16WadqaKWDmH_rQvheFRLU6fTlfr9BzN1z2TDE/w400-h228/1902+Grammar+School+Original+Sig+Levy+front+row+2nd+from+left.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>It was an abnormal size and not in great condition so I put it aside for later. I recognized the little guy second from left in the bottom row as my grandfather, Sigmund Levy, so I knew it had to be a group of school children. And then, of course, later never arrived and there it sat.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_FUhQCd2bi03m-GoGr4m-1lhTkH68Xg0byQ8YIrsknmzetN5SIuTVcZw3S5VzQptDXXrlKT-5qRjJWk7JMgpJ5aACSRiXCOTE-TwA9snl0q9upfc0GrAkXC5hAgP1RMA3KBBtQDObsiM/s716/1902+Grammar+School+Original+Sig+Levy+cropped.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="377" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_FUhQCd2bi03m-GoGr4m-1lhTkH68Xg0byQ8YIrsknmzetN5SIuTVcZw3S5VzQptDXXrlKT-5qRjJWk7JMgpJ5aACSRiXCOTE-TwA9snl0q9upfc0GrAkXC5hAgP1RMA3KBBtQDObsiM/w210-h400/1902+Grammar+School+Original+Sig+Levy+cropped.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sig Levy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Recently I looked at it and thought again "hey, I wonder what the occasion was". And as I went through more things, I realized I had this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLfmvE7DdJKU80MxhRy4mDv_xUJZolKGc9chP62V8HYb3u29a-lAclYYumTLyVgzV2jQ_3rLp6VZ7s3DnTSF8PDqTlO_VD1auZl6FcAT9iYDpRNgpwJ3HYUAjENxr4EhfitU6obeonyg/s2048/1902+Grammar+School+Class.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1787" data-original-width="2048" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLfmvE7DdJKU80MxhRy4mDv_xUJZolKGc9chP62V8HYb3u29a-lAclYYumTLyVgzV2jQ_3rLp6VZ7s3DnTSF8PDqTlO_VD1auZl6FcAT9iYDpRNgpwJ3HYUAjENxr4EhfitU6obeonyg/w400-h349/1902+Grammar+School+Class.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sadly, I only have the clipping above and don't know which newspaper it was in. But I <i>DO</i> know now that my picture is that of the 1902 Fresno Grammar School graduating class. My guess is that Sig gave the newspaper a copy of the photo and they used it in their "Remember When" article.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I looked for a little for more information about Fresno Grammar School and found some interesting photos.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wUt9UEkSwLNZegYwpMB3NGRmXWKdGlCL9krkcbS9lFy1DCcTBIiTXBhXrfvt7D2rUtOgehzv7BORIUvzF4SvgR7j1NLK6T-Udm4uM-u0IS7Og0nAxGK_DMp4XlQOcaElTmO20v3xv2Q/s493/Fresno+Grammar+School+c+1900.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="493" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wUt9UEkSwLNZegYwpMB3NGRmXWKdGlCL9krkcbS9lFy1DCcTBIiTXBhXrfvt7D2rUtOgehzv7BORIUvzF4SvgR7j1NLK6T-Udm4uM-u0IS7Og0nAxGK_DMp4XlQOcaElTmO20v3xv2Q/w400-h291/Fresno+Grammar+School+c+1900.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Study Hall at Fresno Grammar School, c. 1900</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.valleyhistory.org/elementary-schools" target="_blank">Fresno County Historical Society</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I wonder if Sig is in there somewhere?</div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_mCPcOMiV7Or_R8ocamtTQaOWmdSXpuddH4sC5lTPs9cT-2MQddYOfSJlFb717eRpntyB3DfcGUEGCIgruhMF3c7VlUPJAGg-WQIFT0HiiEFOWO2yWJU3LidObGpmQvviNVBbK0rZoE/s500/Fresno+Grammar+School+c+1910.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="500" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_mCPcOMiV7Or_R8ocamtTQaOWmdSXpuddH4sC5lTPs9cT-2MQddYOfSJlFb717eRpntyB3DfcGUEGCIgruhMF3c7VlUPJAGg-WQIFT0HiiEFOWO2yWJU3LidObGpmQvviNVBbK0rZoE/w400-h255/Fresno+Grammar+School+c+1910.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Fresno Grammar School, c. 1916</div></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://Calisphere.org"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Calisphere.org</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And look at this - a list of the 1902 Fresno Grammar School midyear graduates.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGC8_HFHD_qhkJ9gs1y6o5LE6ub6a96ZGMuiScfEeTDvJk2j0ML3jp-AE8B_vCMM1d4q0mJUeX2Ata7NKupmJToOvOpT0h6PeliJYq1-k6IBPjhvAVYvbsdLJzdyGclIj-I5AbNWPNaI/s866/Fresno+Bee+Republican+2_24_52+pg+32.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="866" data-original-width="546" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGC8_HFHD_qhkJ9gs1y6o5LE6ub6a96ZGMuiScfEeTDvJk2j0ML3jp-AE8B_vCMM1d4q0mJUeX2Ata7NKupmJToOvOpT0h6PeliJYq1-k6IBPjhvAVYvbsdLJzdyGclIj-I5AbNWPNaI/w405-h640/Fresno+Bee+Republican+2_24_52+pg+32.jpg" width="405" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">Fresno Bee, Fresno, California, 24 February 1952, page 32</div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not a familiar name in the group except for one very important one. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I pulled out the The Owl, Commencement Number (Fresno High School yearbook) from June, 1906 to see how many of the students were still together. Looks like quite a few - what a group!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93524Uzwwnt3K9PJI6Y4-QduPbRPZFACWF2UFADGVnwts3j7BWfr5FSA0EK7MnlHmwQmToeT83N219iA7UawCX41T1DbPDZoQ3HKU5ki8PpOKGjPRwXWKfyh0awmr00jHJZOqGRczYXQ/s2048/Fresno+High+1906+Graduates+part+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1271" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93524Uzwwnt3K9PJI6Y4-QduPbRPZFACWF2UFADGVnwts3j7BWfr5FSA0EK7MnlHmwQmToeT83N219iA7UawCX41T1DbPDZoQ3HKU5ki8PpOKGjPRwXWKfyh0awmr00jHJZOqGRczYXQ/w398-h640/Fresno+High+1906+Graduates+part+1.jpg" width="398" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqcnimQhlEayob72Yo38-baGd6C5EebK-8eqHBjYxtiPTNhNrkkqsnASTSAEzCyoCitcINqrubKHN_3f2zivpy86_D7qjdjWDRUqFfSl42-lEUwczJaVA8sFpCV4ZWWUB6cT5faR-zCc/s2048/Fresno+High+1906+Graduates+part+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1284" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqcnimQhlEayob72Yo38-baGd6C5EebK-8eqHBjYxtiPTNhNrkkqsnASTSAEzCyoCitcINqrubKHN_3f2zivpy86_D7qjdjWDRUqFfSl42-lEUwczJaVA8sFpCV4ZWWUB6cT5faR-zCc/w402-h640/Fresno+High+1906+Graduates+part+2.jpg" width="402" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZE67ueRoD_XPRqW3psvvtsBo8L9FUVY0obwnAzp9ErI-zCfQt0T9HQfypluRpJebc6qsKqoUSg1hztzrgrXQJa7nJxd5fiHdYkUahG6lACLpD2dczLgajEeiDWXG81XAr7rFHyzUfqY/s2048/Fresno+High+1906+Graduates+part+3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1289" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZE67ueRoD_XPRqW3psvvtsBo8L9FUVY0obwnAzp9ErI-zCfQt0T9HQfypluRpJebc6qsKqoUSg1hztzrgrXQJa7nJxd5fiHdYkUahG6lACLpD2dczLgajEeiDWXG81XAr7rFHyzUfqY/w402-h640/Fresno+High+1906+Graduates+part+3.jpg" width="402" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyjDOeuzy9K9585LO9mnvWsnUYfXR1kUzYgtX1T4-M9Q4T82WV-D1G2ztuFNcvpWQpoa47v4So0nr-tgBccQsk_TcW6R14J7grwrfjq5xW3k_oPLpInMbzvpjLbBTRvDL7slhsGJy4If4/s2048/Fresno+High+1906+Graduates+part+4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1377" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyjDOeuzy9K9585LO9mnvWsnUYfXR1kUzYgtX1T4-M9Q4T82WV-D1G2ztuFNcvpWQpoa47v4So0nr-tgBccQsk_TcW6R14J7grwrfjq5xW3k_oPLpInMbzvpjLbBTRvDL7slhsGJy4If4/w430-h640/Fresno+High+1906+Graduates+part+4.jpg" width="430" /></a></div>Sadly, Sig isn't pictured since he graduated in February but I do have a photo of him from about that time - I wonder if either of the other two young men were listed above.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pWeQWMYqC3h_aAEvayqK9tfXJJS6INjWMrevEq1lo7NWs5DwpBqp425ZVzhHuyt5QK9fK4UEw36rcL9R7zOjhrU0im20tIuqJmVr_PoZ-9pmr3YTIkjllEXGg4J7z5IcBunukcIw9UQ/s577/Sig+Beach+Bathing+Suit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="556" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pWeQWMYqC3h_aAEvayqK9tfXJJS6INjWMrevEq1lo7NWs5DwpBqp425ZVzhHuyt5QK9fK4UEw36rcL9R7zOjhrU0im20tIuqJmVr_PoZ-9pmr3YTIkjllEXGg4J7z5IcBunukcIw9UQ/w385-h400/Sig+Beach+Bathing+Suit.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sig Levy (right) rockin' the swimsuit!</div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div></div>Debi Austenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17409492643470603926noreply@blogger.com0