All My Ancestors

31 March 2008

I Loved That Car!

It was a 1963 Chevrolet Impala SuperSport convertible, with a 409 engine. It was navy blue with a baby blue interior. I think the top was white.

1963 Chevy

I suppose as a female I shouldn’t have cared much about cars. But I did. I had a girlfriend whose brothers were proud of their mechanical skills and their restored antique cars, and I picked up some car knowledge from them. Plus this was the era of the original Mustang and the GTO, so there was a lot of car talk going around.

Additionally, I grew up in the Texas panhandle, where the highways are seemingly never-ending, disappearing off into those unreachable horizons, and vehicles are important. It goes without saying that the cars had to be powerful because things aren’t close together out there, and when you had to go to the neighboring town, like maybe sneaking off to see your boyfriend, you wanted to get there and back home in a reasonable amount of time. Amarillo, the nearest town of any size, was 2 hours away–we didn’t measure in miles, it was too depressing. Rather, we used time.

My grandad bought that car for my brother and I. I asked my brother once why he thought Grandad took us squirmy, loud kids fishing–understand that our grandad wasn’t the stereotypical warm, fuzzy grandpa–he swore like a sailor and he was probably more than a little bipolar. My brother said, “I think he liked us.” Leave it to my brother–a man of few words. So I guess Grandad bought us the car for the same reason.

I’ll never forget walking across the big round gravel driveway, out to the granary, and around to the back to see the car. There it sat out in the middle of the South Dakota prairie, a sort of enigmatic picture. The granary was ancient and held my great-grandfather’s carpentry tools. And then there was this gorgeous car. I still wasn’t clear on how I got so lucky, but I was willing to deal with the ambiguity.

I don’t remember how we got the car home to Texas. I guess we must have driven it all 640 miles home, but I don’t remember that as well as driving it back and forth to college. You couldn’t have a more impractical car than that one in this part of the world–it was cold in the winter and hot in the summer. Riding with the top down was almost an impossibility because you risked baking. Anytime it rained, of course, if you were driving at any speed, it leaked. But who cared? We were young and the car was fast.

My brother and I were driving home from college one night–actually early morning– through the back roads in rural Texas. From nowhere, there was a sheriff or a highway patrol–my brother got a ticket for going 121 mph! The thought of that gives me cold chills now, but at the time, we were pumped about beating our time driving home from school. That car could fly.

1959 ChevyThere are other special cars in my memory–the 1959 Bel Aire sedan I drove when I first got my drivers license at 14! And used it to break a guy’s ladder that was sticking out the back of his pickup the first time I drove it to the grocery store. I think this was the car that we had air-conditioning put in–it was a unit under the dash in the middle–it froze your shins if you were riding in the middle, but what a luxury we thought that was.

 

About 3 months after I went to college, Dad bought me a used Chevy of some sort–one time having to come pick me up at school and get me back somehow impressed on him that he needed me to have a car. When I graduated from college in 1973, he bought me a new car–the first new car I’d ever owned. I think he was a little disappointed that I wanted a Toyota Celica, but he got it for me since that’s what I wanted. My high school boy friend’s 1956 Olds 88 (the tales that car could tell!), my Grandad’s ’48 Ford pickup I learned to drive in, 1948 Fordwith an in-the-floor shift, my brother’s first car that was a really a pick-up, a family Buick that kept catching on fire, my Uncle Larry’s’57 Chevy with Hank Williams songs on the radio, my grandmother’s circa 1954 purple Pontiac–all cars that are strong in my memory.

But they can’t top the Chevy SS convertible–I loved that car.

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24 March 2008

Quilting

Filed under: General by allmyanc

I took my quilt top to the quilter today.

quilt1

I like making quilt tops but I really really really don’t like the handwork of quilting. So I pay to have them machine quilted.

Also, I learned today what kind of quilts I make. Utilitarian. :-)

The quilter lady just put that word out there and she’s absolutely right. I don’t do fancy quilts. I just do plain, usable quilts. Ones that can be washed in the washing machine and ones that are comfy to sleep under. And that it’s not the end of the world if one of pets gets on it.

This one is made from cut up worn out pants–chinos–khakis, whatever you want to call them. The fabric is not heavy like jeans, just cotton pants. It seemed like such a waste to throw them away but they weren’t really good any more for wearing. So now they are a quilt.

And now I know. I’m a utilitarian quilt maker. I like it.

quilt2

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14 March 2008

Women’s History Month–43rd Carnival of Genealogy

Filed under: Landrum Family, South Carolina, Tennessee by allmyanc

Here are our marching orders for the 43rd version of the Carnival of Genealogy:

Write a tribute to a woman on your family tree, a friend, a neighbor, or a historical female figure who has done something to impact your life. Or instead of writing, consider sharing a photo biography of one woman’s life. Or create a scrapbook page dedicated to a woman you’d like to honor. For extra credit, sum up her life in a six-word biography (thanks to Lisa Alzo for the suggestion!).

There have been a lot of strong, admirable women in my family. I wish I’d been able to interact in person with many of them–I’ve written about some of them already– in another Carnival of Genealogy entry about which 4 ancestors I’d like to have dinner with, an early posting that included my paternal grandmother, multiple entries about my maternal grandmother, her sisters, the tragedy and legacy of my great-grandmother‘s suicide, my great-aunt Margie and her sisters, her sister-in-law, my great-aunt Eva, and, of course, “the girls,” my great aunts Edna and Lorene. These women were resourceful and hard-working. I’m fortunate to have known most of them.

There are also some women in my family I’ve come to know through family stories and my own research. I’ve written about some of those as well. There are lots of candidates in my family deserving of a tribute–a 3rd great-grandmother who lost 4 sons in a Civil War she probably didn’t believe in, and who then reared the children of one of those sons; another 3rd great-grandmother who lost her parents as a young child, lost 4 sons as infants and who endured a husband’s wonder-lust and physical ailments, one of my great-grandmothers who saw to it that her own daughters went to college at a time when educating women wasn’t all that common.

The ancestor I will focus on for this entry is sort of a repeat–I’ve written about her before.  I know her only through what I found in writing about her and through a story relayed to me by her great-granddaughter, my great-aunt Margie. This is a partial reprint from an earlier post, one I wrote for Mother’s Day last year, but honoring Delilah Jackson Landrum seem appropriate for this exercise. She has become one of my guiding lights–

Delilah Jackson (1780-1870) was my 4th great-grandmother. She was married to Merriman Landrum (1784-1826) and outlived him by several years.  What I wouldn’t give for a photo!

I get the impression that Delilah was from a locally prominent family from Union County, South Carolina. She was born in 1780–her father was Ralph Jackson, Jr. and her mother was Delilah Murphy. Ralph Jr’s mother was Amy Williams. Amy is a patriot, in the sense that if I were so inclined, I could use her as my ancestor to join the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) since she is on record as having furnished forage to some of the Revolutionary soldiers’ horses. Delilah inherits, among other things, a “dutch fan” at her father’s death about 1817. I’ve spent some time trying to determine exactly what this item was, and I think it must have been a hand-held fan used by ladies in that day that came from Holland. Simple enough, but probably highly prized in those steamy South Carolina times.  And she must have inherited at least some of her grandmother Amy’s strength as well.

Much of the information I have about Delilah comes from a book about her son. Her oldest son was John Gill Landrum (1810-1882), a Baptist minister of some note in South Carolina. He seems to have been a fairly conservative fellow, but I did like the fact that when he married a Methodist woman, he had no issues with her attending her own congregation while he tended his.

The book is entitled The Life and Times of Rev. John G. Landrum, written by H. G. Griffith in 1885. It was reprinted in 1992 by Brent Holcomb, to whom I am most grateful for making this book more readily available. The book was the result of an article Mr. Griffith was asked to write for the Baptist Courier, a South Carolina Baptist publication, about Rev. Landrum. Despite his birth in Tennessee, John Gill Landrum evidently made his claim to fame in South Carolina. After the death of his father, Merriman, he was sent back to South Carolina for schooling and as with many students who go off to study, he made his life where he was educated.

Not all of the family information in The Life and Times is correct–but the general outline is there. The author evidently went to great length to contact Landrum descendants–there is a quote from my 3rd great grandmother, his older sister, Elizabeth Landrum Cooper who was living in Texas at the time. Elizabeth says of her mother Delilah:

She was as good a woman as ever lived; well beloved by all that knew her. She was an exception–was kind and good to everybody.

Just after their marriage in 1805 in South Carolina, Delilah and Merriman moved to middle Tennessee. Delilah and her husband evidently worked for and lived in the house of Newton Cannon who was then the Surveyor-General of the state. He was later the governor of the state. As the surveyor, he was often gone from his home. The Landrums ran his household for him–the story indicates that Cannon sometimes teased Delilah that she “had not patched his clothes as she should have done, while the clothes exhibited many conspicuous specimens of her handiwork.” She must have had a sense of humor. This, and the fact that Cannon continued to visit in Merriman and Delilah’s home in subsequent years, tells me she must have been a warm, loving, welcoming person. When Merriman died in 1826, Cannon, governor-to-be, paid Delilah and their nine children “a special visit of sympathy and condolence.”

My favorite story from this book is that of Delilah after the death of her husband and while she was still living in Tennessee. Her youngest daughter Mary wanted her mother to go to a neighborhood revival meeting. This was not the church they usually attended, but she agreed to go with her daughter. This description took me right back to my own youth in way too many revivals

“The preacher soon rose to fever heat, and his audience indicated their sympathy by shouts and groans, and many other noisy demonstrations. When the excitement had reached its climax, the preacher, in the tones of a trumpet, demanded that all who wanted to go to heaven should rise from their seats and clap their hands. The whole congregation, with the single exception of Mrs. Landrum, rose and gave the required response. The quick eye of the preacher noted the defalcation, and he immediately added: “And all who want to go to hell, will please keep their seats.” Mrs. Landrum still calmly kept her seat to the grat horror of the zealous worshipers, and especially to that of the little daughter Mary. The latter, on reaching home, came to her mother with a heavy heart, and, in childish simplicity, said: “Mother, do you want to go to hell?” “No, my child,” replied Mrs. Landrum; “but that preacher is not my captain. God knows the hearts of all his people, and it is not necessary to make unnatural and unbecoming demonstrations in order to merely gratify the curiosity of others.”

I don’t know if this passage would have eased my way as I navigated through the religious minefield that comprised my own youth, adolescence and young adulthood.  I do know that it mightily soothed me when I found it a few years ago. Part of me wanted to proclaim, “See, it’s genetic!” when I recalled how I couldn’t bring myself to pray aloud when called upon in church to do so, or to stand and give a “testimony,” to resent having to “shut my eyes and bow my head” and to raise my hand when the evangelist was taking some sort of heaven-bound poll. I didn’t have Delilah’s strength, but I like to think some of it has come my way as I’ve worked out my own spiritual path. And I’ve thought about her often as I’ve also worked out my role as the wife of a minister–I’m so glad to have found her and her story.

Some forty years after the death of her husband Merriman in Tennessee, Delilah died and is buried in Texas in an unmarked grave. She probably rests beside that youngest daughter Mary and Mary’s husband Thomas Ballenger in New Prospect churchyard in Rusk County, Texas. She is only one of my great-grandmothers who need a tombstone–another of my projects.

A 6 word bio? Based on what her children and grandchildren had to say and my own conclusions from research: wise, secure, loving, resilient, honorable, revered. best casino bonuscasino craps free gambling online,online casino craps,casino crapsonline casino download,free casino game no download,casino downloadvideo poker slot machinefree online black jack gameonline casino gambling blackjack,casino blackjack game online,online casino blackjackcraps free online play,play craps free,play crapsblack jack onlinevideo poker strategywin video pokerfree online slots game,play free online slots gamehow to win at roulettecasino bonus codeplay free casino game onlinecraps rulesamerican roulettefree online backgammon,online backgammon,online backgammon gameonline casino wageringjackpot casino,casino jackpot online,jackpot city online casinofree slots game,free internet slots game,free wheel of fortune slots gamebaccarat casino online,baccarat casino game,casino baccaratplay black jack online freeonline card game casino,casino card game,card casino free game onlinefree on line casinojeux de casino en ligne,jeux casino internet,jeux casinocasino bonus whorejeux kenoplay blackjack onlinejeu keno gratuitestableau black jackcasinos video pokerroulette de casinojeux casino virtuelonline black jack gamejeux casino enfantles jeux de casinocomment gagner au casino,gagner au casino,astuces pour gagner au casinocoupon gratuites casino 770casino machine a souswww jeu casinocasinos en ligne gratuitesslots en lignesuper casinojeu slots gratisgéant casinobonus des casinos en lignejeux casino machine a souscasino blackjack gratuitesvideo poker machinesjeu baccarat gratuites

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12 March 2008

It’s about time!!

Filed under: How to by allmyanc

Kimberly Powell is reporting that a version of the BBC’s Who Do You Think You Are? is coming to US television. Here’s a bit more information from The Guardian. And, as a bonus, Phoebe will be there!

All I can say is, it’s about time. I watched this program while I was in Ireland last September, having heard of it before I visited. I actually managed to watch two episodes and I thought it was wonderful.

I started to say it’s surprising to me that it’s taken mainstream media this long, but it really doesn’t, even though genealogy is one of the most popular pursuits in the US. [snark ends here]

I can hardly wait!

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9 March 2008

AnceStories: Laughter, the Best Medicine

Miriam’s most recent journaling prompt asks us to think about who and how humor works in our families.

This is a topic I should be an expert on. I wrote a dissertation on humor. The main thing I learned was that the dissection of humor is the only operation in which the patient ALWAYS dies. (That’s not original with me, by the way, but I can’t remember–or find–the source right now.) It seemed like a good idea at the time, but anyone who’s done that sort of sustained, intense project, soon realizes that there’s nothing funny about it, no matter the topic.

We laughed a lot in our family–it seemed to be a point of pride to get others to laugh, in fact. Not that we were/are all clowns, but we do appreciate a good turn of phrase. My husband is from a family that laughs as well. And he’s the youngest, so he’s the performer, as is our youngest son. Our older son and I tend to be the “critics,” though that’s typically phrased humorously as well.

*When you laugh, who do you sound like? Your father, mother, a sibling, or other relative?
I don’t know who I sound like. I suspect I sound like my mother–everything else has gotten to be like her as I’ve aged–my hands, my skin, my looks. I know I don’t sound like my siblings–one brother sort of grins and giggles and the other laughs a bit louder than him, but we don’t sound alike, though we can enjoy some of the same things to laugh at.

*Who in your family giggles? Belly laughs? Chuckles? Guffaws? Knee slaps or does some other large physical act while laughing?
My grandad used to slap his knee sometimes when he was laughing, particularly if it was something he thought you should be laughing at also. The only person I can think of who giggles is a most unlikely candidate–he’s a cousin who is a big, tough, (at least in his youth) cowboy. I couldn’t help joining in the fun when Willie giggled. My brother laughs a bit like him though he would probably clobber me if I said he giggles. :-)

*Who has the most unique laugh in your family, and why
In my immediate family, our youngest son has the most unique laugh–it just sort of bursts out and is there before you know it’s coming.

*What kinds of things did your family laugh or joke about?
All sorts of things, including each other.

There’s also a tradition of telling stories about serious events but using a humorous twist. I wish I had a recording, for example, of my cousin’s tale about setting his house of fire right before Christmas. His daughter was getting married and his dad, who had cancer, was there. It reminded me of Ogden Nash’s tale of “The Night the Bed Fell.” The event wasn’t funny but the telling was hilarious–all the things going through his mind, his dad, my incorrigible uncle, facing off the official who wanted to replace his meds from the fire-damaged pouch, the interaction with the firemen–not funny, but hilarious in the telling. My husband has a few of those types of stories as well–the first wedding he performed had a bomb threat called in AND a tornado siren go off during the service. They had to evacuate the church twice, in pouring rain. You can imagine what the wedding pictures look like from that one!

*What best describes the style of humor in your family (dry, wet, ironic, silly)?
I’d say it is ironic and even sometimes sarcastic. It’s not mean-spirited but it does have an edge.

There’s some silliness, as well. My dad lived with us for a couple of years after my mom died. His stroke and aging made him all the more susceptible to my sons’ silliness–and they loved having the audience. He loved the antics of the pets as well–he chuckled when he told me about the dog stealing his sandwich off the counter while his back was turned as he was putting the sandwich makings back into the fridge. And then there was the time the hot air balloon came over the back yard and scared the dog.

*Did you ever have tickle fights?
Maybe one. At least with me. Because I probably beaned whoever tried. I always thought they were sort of mean–probably because I was on the receiving end as a child. And maybe it wasn’t all that much of a fight–I was just being tickled and I didn’t like it.

*Who were the practical jokers in the family?
My brothers were practical jokers when we were younger–I was probably a really good target. Once they left jelly beans on their bed that they knew I would eat. They’d made sure our dog had licked them first.

I’ve been known to pull a few myself–I used to tell my youngest brother that chocolate milk came from black Angus cattle–I suppose this is sort of a region-specific joke. Back in that time and place, Herefords were the most common and desired brand.

And I told my husband-to-be at the time that we didn’t sing our school song, we whistled it. He made the mistake of checking with my parents and then he married me anyway.

*What private jokes did you have as a family? What key phrases were giggle starters?
One of the things that can send us into gales of laughter is the mention of hearing aids, or talking about not being able to hear. Our grandad got progressively more and more hard of hearing as he aged. We were all gathered in my parents’ family room, and Grandad kept having us, or more likely, Grannie, repeat to him what was being said. My younger brother, the shrink-in-training at the time, said, “Grandad, have you ever thought about getting hearing aids?” To which Grandad roared, “An airplane! What do I need an airplane for?”

*What do you remember about your own children’s first laughs when they were babies? What silly things did you do to get them to chortle?
Almost anything could send son #1 into a fit of the giggles–getting down close into his face or rolling him around a bit or just talking silly. Son #2 was a tougher audience, but usually with some patience, he would laugh at the same things.

*What books, magazine, or cartoon strips were favorite humorous reads in your family?
We always read “the funnies,” in both the daily paper and the Sunday comics. My dad liked “Dennis the Menace,” “Alley Oop,” and “Nancy,” as I recall. My own sons like reading “Calvin and Hobbes” and it’s probably pretty telling that #1 son loved (and understood) Matt Groenig’s “Life in Hell” at a very early age. They both, along with their dad, like to watch “The Simpsons.” And they love to make fun of me because I don’t like watching it.

*What comedy television shows or movies were favorites in your family?
As I’ve said before, we didn’t have television when we were kids. But sometimes we got to go over to Aunt Eva’s and watch cartoons. I think I enjoyed more watching my brother giggle at Huckleberry Hound than I did watching them myself. Later, my aunt kept my oldest son when he was a little one, and she introduced him to Peter Sellers’ Pink Panther. He does a great Guy Gadbois to this day. My grandad loved Red Skelton–again, it was as much fun to watch him as it was to watch the show.

*Do you ever play games that get your family giggling up a storm?
Password, when played in a multi-generational setting, nearly always set us off into laughter. My grandad, no matter how hard he tried, just couldn’t keep his salty language under control during the pressure of the game, which, of course, sent us kids into gales of laughter–our mother, his daughter, was not so amused. We would practically wet our pants when he and my dad, his son-in-law, were paired up and trying to get the other one to say the magic word. And my grandmother would throw salt at my husband and walk backwards around his chair when she thought he was winning at cards too much. All cause for lots of laughing.

*Do you have digital recordings, videotapes, audio tapes, or home movies with family members talking or laughing in them? I’m a fan of Susan Kitchen’s blog, Family Oral History Using Digital Tools, and she has lots of good tips for preserving these recordings. Perhaps you should plan to do some recording at the next family gathering!
I wish I did have recordings of some of those card games and games of Password. So maybe it’s time to use my digital recorder at the next family gathering. I will say that one of the favorite recordings that makes people laugh in my family is the an old movie of me, at about age 3, gagging myself repeatedly while cleaning my sunglasses. I’m decked out in my two-piece sun suit, and just can’t seem to get those glasses smear-free.

*Besides preserving audio recordings (and perhaps posting them on your blog!), you can post photos of family members cutting capers, laughing, or joking around.
I have done some of this. My grandmother’s 4 sisters astride the horse at Knott’s Berry Farm is a good example. I think the Anderton’s always had a good time when they got together. My grandmother was not rambunctious, but she did like to laugh and make others laugh.

This was a fun reminiscence. I’m glad to be a part of a family that laughs–some of those times and the shared experiences make our lives all the richer. They give us a bond with family members who are no longer around but who can still make us smile when we remember some of our times laughing together. And the stories repeated give other family members information about those they may not have known first-hand. I’m so glad my great-aunt Edna told me the story about “fur-bearing Christians,” for example. I can still see the twinkle in her eye when she told me that tale.

And I remember going to sleep with a smile on Christmas’ Eve because from the living room, I could hear my two adult sons doing what can only be described as giggling as they were playing “Guitar Hero.”

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