Monthly Archives: February 2014

Some Folks Call Me a Maverick

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FT40-to-Follow-150Recently in Family Tree Magazine, Lisa Louise Cooke compiled a list of “Social Media Mavericks” — 40 genealogists to follow on social media. I am honored — and quite surprised! — to be named on that list! I’m in the Twitter section. Here’s what she had to say about me:

@AmyCrow
Certified genealogist and librarian Amy Crow tweets posts from her No Story Too Small blog. One must-read: “Two Worthless Brothers in My Family Tree.”

So what do I do on Twitter? I post from the blog, talk genealogy, and, occasionally, go on about The Walking Dead. Go ahead — click the little blue birdie on the right side of the page and you’ll see.  (And if you’re wondering about Facebook — I share all sorts of genealogy stuff over there.)

Be sure to read the full article in Family Tree Magazine. You’re sure to find some great new people to follow. (Or, it will confirm your choices in who you already follow!)

Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but ever since hearing about this, I’ve had Garth Brooks’ “Against the Grain” stuck in my head. (Which also explains the title of this post!) Amazing how earwigs work… Apologies in advance if I just passed it along to you; hey, that’s social media. :-)

52 Ancestors Challenge: Week 8 Recap

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52ancestors-week8Congratulations to everyone who has made it to Week 8 and to those who are just getting started (and to everyone in between)! I’ve seen several people commenting that they’re “trying to catch up.” Remember – the goal is write something. It doesn’t have to be the definitive work on that ancestor. Don’t feel guilty about only posting a photo or only posting a couple of paragraphs. My motto: “Anything you write is more than what you had before.”

This week, we had both the serious and the silly. Larry Sanburg told about his ancestor’s involvement with the Underground Railroad. Susie Reynolds shared how her great-great-grandparents met.  Genohio isn’t quite her own grandpa, but she is related to herself. Cheryl Biermann Hartley wonders why her grand-uncle was wearing a dress.

One post that I’d like to bring special attention to is Cheri Daniels’ touching tribute to her Aunt Janet in “The Last Cup of Tea.” It’s a story of family dynamics, grief, and how one cup of tea really can make for a family story. (Thank you, Cheri, for allowing me to highlight your beautiful post.)

My contribution this week was about my great-great-grandfather George Skinner of Perry County, Ohio and why I’m glad he didn’t follow his siblings.

The Family Scattered, But He Stayed Still: George Skinner, 1841-1920 (52 Ancestors #8)

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If you were expecting the tale of my second ancestor who died a fiery death, you might be disappointed. (How’s that for an intro?!) I was sick most of last week and couldn’t complete the research that I wanted to devote to it. So instead, I present to you my great-great-grandfather, George Austin Skinner.

George was born in Perry County, Ohio in 1841, one of nine children born to William Harrison and Matilda (Debolt) Skinner. What has fascinated me about George is that he never moved away from Perry County. That by itself isn’t extraordinary, until you put into context with the rest of his family.

His father William died in 1850, which left Matilda to raise the youngest seven children. (George’s brother Marian was just 11 months old at the time of William’s death.) By the 1860 census, the family had scattered. Matilda (twice-remarried) was living with her daughter Amaretta and her husband in Jay County, Indiana. George’s brothers Robert, William, and possibly John Rezin were also in Jay County. His brother Stephen was in Porter County, Indiana. Brother Marian is unaccounted for (so far).

Why did only George stay behind in Perry County? Even his grandfather George Debolt had moved on to Jay County.

For reasons yet unknown, George did stay behind. His descendants are grateful he did, because it was in Perry County that he met and married Susan Orr. They had 11 children, including my great-grandmother Clara (Skinner) Starkey.

George died in Thorn Township, Perry County, Ohio on 28 March 1920. He is buried in Zion Ridge Cemetery.

52 Ancestors Challenge: Week 7 Recap

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52ancestors-week7It’s hard to believe that we’re already at Week 7.

I would like to apologize to those whose posts I missed last week. It’s no excuse, but I had a hard time keeping up while I was at RootsTech. Hopefully I have them all this week.

Michelle Rasmussen followed up on a tiny clue and found more about her great-aunt who was rumored to have flown in WWII. Pam shares an extraordinary letter that her grandmother’s adopted sister received from the biological sister she had never met. Eileen Souza has some excellent advice in “How I Found Margaret McGinn Noble’s Family.”

Taking the title “Ancestor With the Longest Name” this week is Juli D. Quinteros de Hernandez and her grandmother “Beulah Mae Houston Russell Quinteros Russell Hancock Johnson Kaufman.”

My contribution was “Came to a Fiery End: John Ramsey, 1860-1941.”

And with that, it’s on to the posts:

 

Came to a Fiery End: John Ramsey, 1860-1941 (52 Ancestors #7)

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John Ramsey (1860-1941), undated photo.

John Ramsey (1860-1941), undated photo.

John Ramsey, my great-grandfather, was a farmer all his life. It was working the land that eventually claimed his life.

John was born in Perry County, Ohio in 1860, the son of Samuel and Charlotte (Danison) Ramsey. In 1887, he married Melzena Kelly. John and Melzena had a tough life. They lost at least four children before their daughter Carrie was born in 1895; they would lose six children in all before 1900.

When Melzena died at the age of 49, John was left to care for four children, ranging in age from 6 to 16. (Ralph, my grandfather, was the 6-year-old.) Surprisingly, John never remarried.

John’s son Luke never married; he lived at home until John’s death. My mom remembers the front room at her Grandpa Ramsey’s house. It had a wood stove and a chair on either side — one for her grandpa and one for Uncle Luke. She also remembers her grandpa chewing tobacco and spitting into the fire. (Eww.)

The Somerset (Ohio) Press, Thursday, 10 April 1941, page 1.

The Somerset (Ohio) Press, Thursday, 10 April 1941, page 1.

Tuesday morning, 8 April 1941, John went to one of his fields to burn off some brush. It isn’t known if he had a heart attack and collapsed or if the fire turned on him and he was overcome by smoke. In either case, he collapsed and was burned “beyond recognition.” He was discovered later that afternoon by one of mom’s classmates.

He and Melzena are buried in Highland Cemetery in Glenford.

NOTE: John Ramsey isn’t my only ancestor to meet with a fiery end. Next week, I’ll discuss my ancestor John McClelland, who participated in the ill-fated Crawford Campaign.

 

My First – and Almost Last – Time I Sledded: Or, Why I’ll Never Be An Olympic Luger

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Central Ohio isn’t known for its winter sports. We usually don’t have enough snow on the ground long enough to do anything with it. So when there was good snow cover one Saturday morning when I was 7, my dad decided to take my middle sister and me sledding. It was the first — and nearly last — time I was ever on a sled.

The service road at Hoover Dam, February 2014.

The service road at Hoover Dam, February 2014. When snow covered, it really is a good sledding hill. Just watch out for the curve.

It seemed that every other family in Columbus had the same idea that Saturday morning. Every hill we went to was packed with snowsuit-clad kids carrying sleds. (Central Ohio also isn’t known for its abundance of good sledding hills.) At last, we found a hill that was untouched: the service road at Hoover Dam.

It is a really nice hill. It goes from the parking lot all the way down to the base of the dam. (I’m not sure if there was a “No Sledding” sign there then like there is now.) Picture the road with snow on it and you’ll see why it was so appealing.

There was just one problem: That nasty curve in the road. Remember, I’d never been sledding before, so negotiating a curve wasn’t something that Dad was comfortable letting me try, even with guardrails on both sides. Especially considering that the hill to the left wasn’t there in the early 1970s; it was pretty much a tree-filled ravine.

Getting a grown man and his 7-year-old daughter on a tiny sled isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Finally, we situated ourselves sitting up, bobsled-style, with me in the front and Dad in the back. Dad was going to steer using the ropes that were attached to the front of the sled. (Looking back, I don’t know why we thought this was a good idea.)

My sister started down the hill first. Then Dad and I pushed off. It was exhilarating. The crisp winter air hitting our faces, the butterflies in our stomach when we hit a bump… and then, the ice.

There was a patch of ice at the top of the curve. My sister had managed to miss it, but Dad and I hit it square on. We went out of control and straight into the guardrail. Without it, we would have gone down the ravine. Instead, Dad and I were pinned under the bottom rail.

Dad’s legs took the brunt of the impact. It is amazing that he didn’t break his legs as we went under the guardrail or his hand from shielding me from the collision.

My sister made it back up to us just as we were dislodging ourselves from under the guardrail that had saved us. Later, she told me that all she could think when she saw Dad was, “Oh God. I only have my temps. Please let him be alright so I don’t have to drive home.” (We’ve teased her about that ever since.)

After assessing the damage to ourselves and the sled, we decided that we had had enough sledding for one day and opted to go home. (Yes, Dad was in good enough shape to drive, much to my sister’s relief.)

The ride back home was quiet as the three of us thought about our misadventure. As we pulled in the driveway, Dad finally spoke. “Don’t tell your mom.” Really? My sister and I nearly tackled each other getting in the house first to do exactly that.

So as I watch the luge and skeleton on the Winter Olympics, all I can think of is my first time sledding… and how I’ll stick with curling.

Just Go Do It. Now.

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RootsTech 2014 focused heavily on story. Judy Russell, the Legal Genealogist, told us in her keynote that oral history can be lost in just three generations, if not passed down in a deliberate way.

Three generations.

The name of this blog is “No Story Too Small.” I firmly believe that no story is too small to be recorded and to be cherished. I wish I knew the answers to Judy’s questions. I wish I knew if my great-grandfather could swim or what my great-grandmother’s favorite toy was.

You might be like me and keep saying, “Yeah, I really need to <x>.” Interview parents and other relatives. Label the photographs. Write down some stories.

We know we should. We know we need to. Yet, we don’t.

We allow ourselves to fall into the trap of telling ourselves that we’re too busy. We allow ourselves to think that the task is too big. We allow ourselves to think that we don’t know how or that we don’t know where to start.

We allow ourselves to be complacent.

We have to stop that. Now.

Grandma Johnson was the keeper of the stories in our family.

Grandma Johnson was the keeper of the stories in our family. She was also a good cook.

We’ve all seen the sad reminders of how short life truly is. I lost a cousin last fall; he had been ill for years, but his death was actually sudden and unexpected. Todd Hansen of BYUtv’s “Story Trek” told about a man he interviewed and got his life story; the man died the next day. A good friend of mine lost his father earlier this week.

Those losses seem to happen to someone else. Until they happen to us. And they will happen to us.

The task of recording your family’s stories may seem monumental. The key is to start. That’s all. Just start. But you have to do it, and you have to do it now.

So stop reading this post and go do something about it right now. Go call a relative and ask what was their favorite birthday present ever. Pick up a photograph and label it. Write down how you learned how to drive. It doesn’t matter what you do or what format it takes — just go do it. (As soon as I publish this, I’m going to email this photo to my sisters to see if they remember what the occasion was that they were cooking with Grandma.)

Seriously. I mean it. Stop reading this and go do something about your family’s stories. Right now.

52 Ancestors Challenge: Week 6 Recap

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52ancestors-week6Trying to get caught up from being at RootsTech last week.

You’ll understand why the photo that Chelsea highlighted in “Harry Mason and His Well-Dressed Brothers, 1925” is one of her favorites. There are also some awesome photos on Beverly’s post “Flora Carter Tidwell of Alabama,” especially with Flora’s mother in mourning dress.

Tying for “Amy’s Favorite Name” this week are Borden Hays Baumgartel (post by Caroll), Seraphin Blanchette (post by Sally Knudsen), and “A Woman Named Jonas Bryant” (post by Andrea Kelleher).

My contribution this week was “The Grandfather I Barely Knew: Ralph F. Ramsey, 1907-1984.”

On to the posts:

The Grandfather I Barely Knew: Ralph F. Ramsey, 1907-1984 (52 Ancestors #6)

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In a perfect world, I would have known him better. After all, I was a teenager when he died. There should have been lots of opportunities to get to know my Grandpa Ramsey. But it isn’t a perfect world.

I won’t get into the reasons why I rarely saw him, even though he lived only about an hour away. The reasons now aren’t all that important.

My Grandpa, Ralph F. Ramsey, on a rare visit to our house, 1971.

My Grandpa, Ralph F. Ramsey, on a rare visit to our house, 1971.

Ralph F. Ramsey was born 7 December 1907 in Perry County, Ohio. (I can always remember his birthday since the Japanese decided to celebrate it in 1941 by bombing Pearl Harbor.) The memories I have of him is that he was a quiet man and I remember him smiling.

He married my grandmother Della Starkey on 22 May 1929. Together, they lived in the sprawling metropolis of Glenford (population: less than 500 at its peak). After her untimely death, he married Wilda Leckrone.

Grandpa was a shovel operator for Central Silica. It’s funny — he’s one of my few non-farmer ancestors and even then he worked in dirt.

Back in the 1950s, Grandpa and my mom drove to Alabama to pick up Mom’s cousin who was getting out of the Navy. (I think I have that detail correct. Note to self: call Mom and find out who it was.) They stopped at a roadside rest along the way and there were people taking a survey, seeing where people were coming from and going to. Keep in mind, Grandpa lived his entire life in Glenford or just outside of it. So how did he answer the question, “Sir, where are you from?”

“I’m from Thornville, Ohio.”

Thornville? Grandpa never lived there a day in his life.  Later, my mom asked him why he answered that way.

“Because I figured he’d never heard of Glenford.”

(Yet, somehow, this highway worker from Alabama might have heard of Thornville? And we wonder why there are weird answers in things like the census.)

It was because of Grandpa that I flew for the first time. Mom and I were on vacation in Florida with my oldest sister and her family. We had all gone together in their RV; Dad couldn’t join us because of work. The night before we were going to head home, we called Dad… and learned that Grandpa had died. There was no way we could drive back in time for the funeral; Mom and I flew home the next morning.

Grandpa Ramsey – a quiet man, sported a crew-cut, and always made a perfect pot of coffee without ever measuring. In a perfect world, I’d have known him better.

Personalizing WordPress: The Missing CSS Code

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In my syllabus for my session “Personalizing WordPress” at RootsTech 2014, I inadvertently left out a section that is required at the top of the CSS file (style.css) when you’re using a child theme. Oops.

At the very top of style.css for your child theme needs to be these lines:

/*
Theme Name: name you want it to display in the dashboard
Description: basic description
Author: your name
Version: anything you choose
Template: name of the parent theme as listed in wp-content/themes (ex.: twentytwelve, twentyfourteen, coraline, etc.)
*/

For example:

/*
Theme Name: My Awesome Genealogy Blog
Description: This is the theme for My Awesome Genealogy Blog, based on the Twenty Twelve theme
Author: John Smith
Version: 0.1
Template: twentytwelve
*/

Put that code at the very top of the style.css file for your child theme. Upload it to the child theme’s folder in wp-content/themes. The child theme will then appear on your dashboard and you’ll be able to activate it.