Happy holidays, friends! I have been running behind schedule on Christmas cards, present-buying, meal-planning and…yes, blog writing since mid-November. I hate feeling that things are hurrying on faster than I can run. Maybe this is part of what attracts me to history and genealogy. It brings a certain peace knowing that one’s deceased ancestors are still waiting- ahem – right there where you left them.

My parents found the following picture among their things when they cleaned out their house to move. “You know who these people are?” my dad asked. He hadn’t any idea, even though their names were written on the back. In fact, that’s my dad’s maternal grandmother, Eleanor Sly, and Eleanor’s brother, James Clark Sly.

Eleanor (called “Nellie”) is only 10 years old in this picture and her brother, James, is listed as 12. That places the age of the photograph at about 1884. That’s the same year that France presented the U.S. with the Statue of Liberty. The new book on the market was Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn”.

If one interesting historical aspect stands out, it’s the amazing chandelier in the center. In fact, if the picture is from 1884, that would be a gasolier. Thomas Edison did not create a practical system for generating electricity in homes until 1882. (The White House was not wired for electricity until 1891). Therefore, it’s fair to assume that the bulbs in the picture must be lit with gas, not electricity.

In one way, the scene in the picture don’t look all that different than one we might take today. Yet that was 135 years ago. Eleanor and James are historically closer in that picture to the start of the Revolutionary War by 26 years than to my afternoon coffee.

Tonight, my parents will arrive for a two-week stay at our house. I hope that enough calm will prevail for us to spend time really talking to one another. The more I write these posts, the more I understand the importance of appreciating the people around us and asking about their past. Had I been a little more enlightened when my grandmother was alive, just think what stories I might have told here!

These last few weeks have been all about “right now” time (as in, I have to get this done ‘right now’). In writing this post, it has been nice to consider that all those gestures are just a tiny link between past and future. I always thought the lyric from “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” put that idea nicely:

Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more

I hope you all enjoy this time with your loved ones!

It’s October 18th and I’m officially overdue in swapping out our summer clothes for winter ones. I had planned for it last weekend but there were soccer games and birthday parties to attend, acorns to rake, and crock-pot meals to organize. And let’s be honest – I find no joy in boxing up t-shirts and shorts in exchange for turtlenecks and corduroy.

I feel like my winter clothes still have last winter/spring’s desperation clinging to them. It pains me, emotionally, to put them back on this summer-warmed, active body. It also pains me, literally, because the skinny jeans are so darn skinny.

But now that I’ve discussed tidying up, cooking and being overweight, I want to talk about women’s historical educational advancement. Whaaat? You’d rather hear about my closet? Come on, ladies…

Meet Clara C. Williams, who will become Eleanor’s sister-in-law by marrying her brother, James. She was born to Harriet and Alonzo James, of Warwick, in about 1873. Harriet was actually her father’s second wife.

His first wife (Clarissa) died in 1871, leaving behind 2-year old Kittie, and infant Elizabeth (Lizzie). Clara was the first child from this second marriage, followed by Nellie (3 years later), and Alfred (5 years later).

Her father was a farmer, originally from Sussex, New Jersey. He must have been a successful farmer because they had two servants living with them in both the 1875 and 1880 census. Also, they must have paid for Clara to attend the New Paltz Normal School (where the picture was taken).

The New Paltz Normal School began in 1884 after a fire destroyed what had formerly been a children’s academy. Its purpose was to train teachers to teach in New York State public schools. 

That means that the school was not even 10 years old when Clara graduated!

In 1938, it became an official four-year college: the State Teachers College at New Paltz. In 1947, it began offering graduate studies in education, and one year later it became one of the founding schools of the SUNY system.

Besides Clara, my grandmother attended the New Paltz Normal School and – decades later – my mom got her Master’s in Education there. (If I ever get to my grandmother being born and growing up in the album, you will see her graduation picture too!)

A lot of “firsts” in women’s higher education happened in the era of Clara’s mother, Harriet. Born in 1846, she would have been alive for the following:

• 1849 —Elizabeth Blackwell becoming the first woman to graduate from medical school (Geneva Medical School in New York)

• 1862 —Mary Jane Patterson becoming the first African-American woman to earn a bachelor’s degree. (Oberlin College in Ohio)

• 1870 —Ada Kepley becoming the first woman to graduate from an accredited law school (Union College of Law in Chicago).

I have been surprised to find that the history of women in higher education extends so far back. By 1889/90, already 17% of the bachelor degrees awarded in the U.S. went to women. Fifty years later? 41% . (I could pore over this very interesting table from the National Center for Education Statistics for hours).

So who’s who in this picture?

Clara is the sulky one in front – an old-time Maggie Gyllenhaal. Directly to her left (looking straight at us) is Carrie Tammany, of Marbletown, NY (Ulster County). Left of Carrie is Nellie Hallock, of Lake Grove, NY (Suffolk County).

Up in the middle, with her head cut-off with a pen mark is Isabel Thompson Dickerson, who will later marry a Shaw. On April 10, 1894, a Middletown Daily Press newspaper announces that Isabel has been assigned to teach in Bullville and Clara to teach in New Milford (both in Orange County, NY).

I don’t know the name of the black man in the back of the class but was amazed and pleased to see him there. By 1900, the number of black men obtaining higher education degrees was in the thousands but, from what I read, black men attending white colleges only numbered in the hundreds.

Less than two years after she begins teaching, Clara Williams marries into the Sly Family:

SLY – WILLIAMS
At Edenville, Jan. 1st, 1896, by Rev. R.H. Craig, James C. Sly and Clara, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo James Williams.

In June of the following year, 1897, she will have her first child, Katharine Evelyn (Evelyn). Her second child, Mary, will be born over ten years later, in 1909. If you’ve been following these posts, you’ll recognize Evelyn and Mary from prior pictures.

I don’t have information right now on whether Clara continued to teach after the birth of her daughters. I nearly killed myself trying to figure out the names and hometowns of her classmates at New Paltz. Why?

There’s a chance that someone might find it helpful and otherwise…I’d have to sort clothes. A lovely weekend to you all!

“Arraigned for Torturing a Cat: Frank Dunning promising that his father won’t let him do so again”. So reads an article title from The Sun, May 12, 1880. Sad but true, readers: my second cousin, four times removed, made headlines in New York for animal cruelty.

Frank was 23 years old at the time, having graduated from Columbia Law School two years prior. His 1918 obituary in The Princeton Alumni Weekly describes him as “courteous, jolly…the life of the circle at class and club gatherings”. That’s not quite how he comes off here.

I would be doing a disservice to my 8th grade Social Studies teacher if I didn’t mention yellow journalism at this point. This is exactly the period (1880-1900) that journalists looked for sensational crime stories to attract readers. Headlines were meant to shock; scandals increased readership.

I feel a pinch of remorse for dragging this example out 139 years later, especially as the means through which his descendants should remember him. Then again, come on, Frank! Plenty of privileged law grads fail the bar exam without resorting to violence. 

I’m copying the entire article from the New York Times below.(I’ve highlighted the best of the muckraking in bold):

Mr. Dunning’s Bull-Dog:

A Cat’s Tragic Death and the Indignation it Aroused

Frank Dunning, a young lawyer, of 37 West Thirty-eight-street, is the owner of a bull-dog whose natural propensity to attack cats with savage violence on all possible occasions led yesterday morning to the arrest of his master on the charge of cruelty to animals.

The lingering and cruel death of the unfortunate cat after the assault upon it by Mr. Dunning’s dog was not described in the affidavit, but was pathetically narrated  by Mrs. Whiting, whose story was corroborated by her companion, Mrs. Pratt. Last Saturday evening, she said, about 7 o’clock the cat scampered across the street in the direction of Mr. Dunning’s basement, just as the young gentleman and his dog were emerging from the front entrance with a view of taking an evening airing.

Catching a glimpse of the cat’s tail as it disappeared through the railings, Mr. Dunning said, “Sic her.” The dog obeyed with the utmost promptitude, and a moment later Mrs. Whiting and Mrs. Pratt were horrified to see the savage canine seize the luckless feline by the neck and carry her to the street, where he shook her until she became apparently lifeless.

At length Mr. Dunning, who had in the meantime stood by a delighted spectator of his dog’s prowess, interfered, and, taking the cat by the neck, slung her into the middle of the street. There she lay for some time feebly shaking her tail, until a passing wagon ran over her body. Even after that the cat manifested signs of life.

Mrs. Whiting sent her servant to the office for the Society of Cruelty to Animals to apprise them of the case. An officer who returned to the scene of the tragedy with some of the poison which the society uses to terminate the misery of dying beasts, found the cat dead. The body remained nearly opposite the aristocratic residence of Mrs. Whiting until Sunday, when it was removed by the Board of Health.

Mr. Dunning denied point-blank the truth of the charge of “inciting” the dog to assail the cat. The cat, he explained, was regarded as a nuisance in the neighborhood, and having a feline acquaintance of the male sex on the other side of the street, had been in the habit of spending many of her evenings in and about Mr. Dunning’s area in the company of her gentleman friend.

On Saturday evening his dog caught sight of the obnoxious creature, and, apparently recognizing her as a cat for whose blood he had been particularly thirsting for many days, at once attacked her. Despite the remonstrances of his master, the dog continued to bite the cat until she succeeded in escaping through the iron railing into the roadway, where she was run over by a wagon.

Mr. Dunning’s father, a lawyer, of No. 9 Nassau Street, said he was quite certain his son was not the sort of person to commit the crime charged against him. After consulting together, the two ladies decided not to appear against Mr. Dunning. Justice Kilbreth then informed the officer that he would indefinitely adjourn the case, but the papers were subsequently endorsed “discharged”.

Superintendent Hatfield was very indignant over the disposition of the case. “If the prisoner was a poor devil instead of a rich man,” remarked Mr. Hatfield to a TIMES reporter last evening, “the Judge would have held him in $300 bail. So far as I am informed of the particulars, the cat was cruelly butchered. The ladies are positive that young Dunning set the dog after the cat, and that he afterward slung her out on the roadway to be mangled by the passing vehicles.” 

Blood is thicker than water, so they say.

It looks as if the family shipped Frank off at some point to avoid further trouble. (I found another police document with his name on it, dated 1890). The Princeton obituary put it gently: “A country life…had a much stronger appeal for him, and he spent much of his time at Warwick, Orange County, N.Y., at the family country home, where farming and shooting were more to his taste.”

Shooting, right. We hope the female cats of Warwick knew enough to entertain their gentleman friends elsewhere!

It rained every day this week. Every morning brought grey, leaky sky and a shaking out of the umbrellas. Trudge, trudge, cranky children, angry clients. Together with the humidity, it began to smell like worms and decay at my house. The Times Square subway station, I can assure you, smelled even worse.

Our lawn, however, has never looked better. My husband points out that the Premier League only has such bright green turf because of the natural rainfall in England. Be that as it may, no luxurious country estate, not even Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester on hands and knees could ever convince me to live somewhere where a week of rain was the norm.

Yet, if I’ve got it right, my ancestors come from just this sort of environment. In an earlier post, I explained that no one has traced the Orange County Dunnings back to the English Dunnings but that “it is probable that several of the early Dunning immigrants to America were of the families from [Throwleigh and the South Tawton].”

The earliest supposed ancestor of the Orange County Dunnings was Theophilus Dunning, who emigrated from England and was granted land in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1642. Meanwhile, the earliest Registry entry for the Church of St. Mary’s in Throwleigh dates 1653. Old Theo left before they could track him!

I should go back and explain that Throwleigh and South Tawton are villages in the County of Devonshire, in Western England. As per my investigations, “typical winter weather in Devon…is clouds and rain with the occasional sunny spell.” What’s more, both are small: even in the 1900’s, Throwleigh had a population of no more than 300 inhabitants.

That makes it all the more unlikely that I would know someone near Throwleigh, right? Someone kind enough to enter St. Mary’s Church there and take a picture of a Dunning memorial for me? Fate is a funny thing, my friends!

As it happens, a colleague of mine grew up in Okehampton, less than a 20-minute drive from Throwleigh. When I told her about my project, she offered to visit the churches in her spare time. Pure goodness, mind you! I’m not the type who wields corporate power by pressuring people for pictures of stained glass windows. Not me.

So there’s the window: in memory of John Dunning, son of Throwleigh Barton who died November 1860. Throwleigh Barton’s a house, not a parent. According to this description (which has wonderful pictures of the village and church), most inhabitants lived in farmhouses or small cottages. Throwleigh Barton was “the most substantial of these farmhouses” and “a rare survival of a sixteenth-century house in vernacular style”.

There appear to be 9 sections of the stained glass design, representing the stages of John Dunning’s life. At least, that’s what I took it to be. His baptism, his studies, his saying goodbye to family in order to delight in Ramen noodles…it’s all there.

Er, I’m afraid I’m no better at interpreting stained glass stories than I am at album photographs. That’s not to say that I don’t think it all beautiful and amazing, because I do. It’s just that I <ahem> see through the stained glass, darkly. Do you know something of memorial windows or understand this one differently? Please share your thoughts!

One thing I do wonder is whether John himself had the window planned before his death, or whether the family drew up the plans post-John. I’m not sure how that works, but the prospective would make a difference, wouldn’t it, as to what scenes were placed in the panels?

What if you had to choose nine panels to represent your life? How would you divide it? What panel are you on now? I thought this, staring out at the drippy dark and grumbling as I washed dishes last night.

I would certainly have birth, marriage, death and the birth of my children in there, but I’m not sure how I would divide the rest. The comforting thing is that a lot of the things I fret over (i.e. dish-washing) wouldn’t stand a chance of making it. Not even bigger problems, things that were perfectly terrible at the time, would fit in a 9-panel depiction of my life.

So take heart. Don’t sweat the small stuff. If we should decide to do your life in stained glass, that garbage wouldn’t make the panel cut anyway.

Many, many thanks to my lovely colleague and a big old family hug to each of you. Happy summer solstice!

The 19th century was a time when millions upon millions of adults said “goodbye” to their friends and family. The potato famine led 1.5 million Irish citizens to leave their homeland between 1845-1855. Economic and political trouble pushed 1.3 million Germans to depart from Prussia and the German states. 20 million immigrants, 20 million immigrants, from Central, Eastern and Southern Europe said farewell to their loved ones in order to make a new life in the United States between 1880-1920.

What kind of courage these people had, I can’t imagine. Even if I were hopeful, even if I were optimistic that I would find a better life, I don’t know if I’d have been brave enough to get on that boat. If I went with my family or could make a connection once there, then maybe. If I were a young single man, alone, I could only have prayed for the adrenaline of self-preservation and for God, incessantly.

Which leads me back to my Orange County Presbyterian kin. Lucky guys! Their ship had already sailed (!) and there they were, successful farmers living their best Victorian lives. Who’d want to say ‘goodbye’ to all that? Eleanor’s Aunt Frances and husband, Selah Seely Jessup, that’s who. At the same time as Europeans flooded through the “golden door” of New York, New Yorkers like these packed up and headed further West.

“Go West, Young Man, and Grow Up with the Country”

One year before Horace Greeley gave out this famous advice, in 1853, Selah Jessup’s older brother William, moved to Kendall County, Illinois with Goshen native, Mary Jane Van Duzer. At the time, “the prairies were rapidly filling up with permanent settlers” and the couple started their life together “in a comfortable frame cottage built before the roads were surveyed.” Selah followed with his bride some time between 1860 and 1870.

They were not the first settlers in Kendall County. That is to say, they were not the first white settlers in Kendall County. (The Potawatomi, Ottawa and Chippewa tribes had been forced off the land following the Indian Removal Act of 1830 and the Treaty of Chicago in 1833). Na-Au-Say township had, in fact, been settled up earlier, and in large part, by Orange County people:

One of the most influential groups of people which helped settle Kendall county in its pioneer period, between 1830 and 1860, came from Orange county, New York…Whole families of several brothers and sisters at a time they came, the first ones either via the Ohio, Mississippi, or Illinois rivers, or around the lakes from Buffalo, while later ones came by the first New York to Chicago railways with their frequent change of cars. So numerous were they and so influential in public affairs that it was seriously proposed in the state legislature to name the new county Orange in honor of the old home from which these people came.

site link

Again, what courage these people had, I can’t imagine. Traveling by river to start a life on an unknown prairie? I’m reading Little House in the Big Woods with my daughter, and let me tell you, this is frightening stuff. Gathering water, making your own bullets to hunt your own dinner, rushing to preserve food ahead of the winter: they are so vulnerable! (Today Ma would post “I feel exhausted” on Facebook and we’d be like, “it’s so good that you made yourself vulnerable.”)

That is to say, even successful farmers lived hard lives at that time. If people said “God be with you” to each other, if people gathered together at church every Sunday I think it must have been – in part – because death was so near, every day. It may come as no surprise that one of the Jessup brothers (Reverend Theodore) ended up becoming a long-standing pastor at the Na-Au-Say church.

I am no pastor but I know something of the immigrant experience. In 2007, my then-fiancé left Argentina to make a life with me in New York. With planes, phones, Skype and social media, his ‘goodbye’ was more of an ‘hasta luego’ than a farewell forever. Yet he endured that same pain of separation, from home, language, culture and lifelong friends. He made a sacrifice, like millions of immigrants before him, because he believed in peanut butter us.

Selah’s story ends happily. His daughter Eliza went on to have three beautiful children (the McCauleys). Here they are enjoying a tricycle after their father Rod moved the family further west in 1902:

Had Aunt Frances not kept in touch, sending this photo as a postcard to relatives in New York, this blog post would not exist. In other words, make that visit and send that card! You never know how many years later someone will be glad that you did.

For sure, we’ll put a call in to my husband’s sister tonight….and before we hang up, I’ll say “adios”. God be with you.

Today I’m pleased to introduce one of the people who appears most frequently in my grandmother’s album – my great grandaunt Kate. Born 1871 (or thereabouts) she is listed under various names in the census records. In 1880 she’s listed as “Clara K.”, in 1900 she’s “Mary Kate”, in 1910, just “Kate”. Most often, I found her under “Miss Katharine Dunning“, a name she retained until her death, as she did not marry. Here’s a picture of young Aunt Kate:

I’ve gone through Orange County newspapers looking for information about Kate from her birth until 1910. Here are some things I now know about her:

When she was 22, she visited her cousin!

20 Jun 1893: “Miss Kate Dunning, of Middletown, spent last week with her cousin, Miss Nettie Wilcox, in Pine Island.”

(Note – yes, this kind of information is frequently listed in historical newspapers!)

She continually volunteered at church!

29 Mar 1893: Election of Sunday School Officers – The annual election of officers of the First Presbyterian Church Sunday School was held last evening as follows: Superintendent, R.B. Royce, First Assistant C.J. Boyd; Second Assistant Miss Lizzie Elmer; Secretary, Charles L. Millspaugh; Treasurer, H.B. Woodward; Pianist, Miss Nettie Beakes; Assistant, Miss Katharine Dunning; Chorister H.L. Adams.

01 Mar 1898: from the Middletown Daily Press: Hundreds of Friends Gather to say Goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Gordon – “The reception tendered to Rev. Dr. and Mrs. Gordon, last night at the church parlors by the congregation of the First Presbyterian Church was a most pleasant and enjoyable affair, and formed a fitting close of Dr. Gordon’s long and useful pastorate”.
(Kate Dunning is listed as Refreshment Committee member).

30 Dec 1904, Middletown Daily Press: Christmas Exercises Held by Sunday Schools for Four Churches: Santa Claus Present – “Prof. Verro, the magician, gave a performance which delighted the children and mystified the older folks. Misses Kate Dunning and Katherine DeWitt gave piano duets which were highly appreciated.”

(Note: Churches were such important institutions in the 19th and early 20th centuries that rural newspapers are full of information about their goings-on. The headline about Christmas Exercises, for example, was front page news.)

She knew how to ride a bicycle!

02 Jun 1896, Middletown Daily Press, Section entitled “Bicycle Notes”:

Items of Interest to Riders of the Wheel

• Mr. Charles L. Sweezy has a new Dayton tandem.
• Mr. Frank Kernochan rides well for a beginner.
• Rev. Albert F. Eroshaw is learning to ride.
• Miss Kate Dunning has become a good rider.

She owned some fancy clothes!

She sang (sometimes at funerals)!

06 Dec 1904, Middletown Daily Press: Funeral of Mrs. George A. Swalm – “A quartette from the First Presbyterian Church was present and sang selections. The quartette was composed of Messrs. Merrit Dunning, George Wikcham, Miss Kate Dunning, and Mrs. Charity Adams.”

(Note: sadly, for Mrs. Swalm, the obituary ended with the following line: “During the service the body reposed upon a couch in the rear parlor with black dress and shawl drapery just as was the custom of the deceased during her life.”)

She played piano (sometimes at weddings)!

October 1907: Warwick NY Dispatch: Marriage between William Lattimer and Mertle Allee Stage: “Miss Katharine Dunning, of Mechanicstown, rendered the Lohengrin Wedding March…the bride presented Miss Dunning, the pianist, and Miss DeKay, the bridesmaid, with a beauty pin set with pearls.”

“At the residence of Mrs. Andrew J. Gale, near Mechanicstown, Thursday afternoon, at 5’30 o’clock, occured the marriage of her daughter, Addie Reeve Gale, to Mr. Horace Henry Dunning, Jr. The parties entered the tastefully decorated parlor to the music of the wedding march of Lohengrin, played by Miss Kate Dunning, sister of the groom. The words that made them husband and wife were spoken by the Rev. William Dunning, of Binghamton, uncle of the groom, assisted by Rev. David Winters, of this city, their pastor. The ceremony was closed by the wedding march by Menelsshon…”

She had an interest in missionary work!

09 Feb 1906: China and the Indians: Topics Discussed by Ladies’ Missionary Society of First Presbyterian Church

The Women’s Missionary Society of The First Presbyterian Church met Thursday afternoon in the lecture room of the church with an attendance of 76. Miss Kate Dunning read a paper on China and Mrs. H.L. Adams on the Indians. A poem on the latter subject, written by Mrs. Belle Gardner, was read by Mrs. William Dunning. A quarter of ladies sang two numbers. Mrs. Judson also read a story. Mr. Ferris closed with prayer.”

I don’t pretend that these snippets of information capture the life of my great grandaunt, but they bring me a little closer to knowing her. I think it’s fair to say that she was friendly, caring, curious, and musically-inclined. She seems to have been someone that “takes things on”, and who was interested in community. In other words, Kate was someone my grandmother would have modeled herself after and likely did.

I chose a cabinet card photo for my second post because I want to blog in somewhat of a chronological order. Tintype photographs (shown in my last post) were the precursor to cabinet card photographs, so called because people used to display them in their cabinets.

These pictures were printed on thick card stock and used from 1870 until about 1900. The one I have shows a mother with her baby of approximately one year of age. “Ah yes”, I said knowingly. My great-grandmother Eleanor Sly was born in 1874 so this must be she with her mother, Catherine Dusinberre!

That’s when I fell down the rabbit hole.

It turns out that the Dusinberre family has a very long history in Warwick, Orange County, NY, as do the Sly family, Catherine’s in-laws as of 1868. I spent night after night into the wee hours digging up newspaper articles, census records and genealogy websites looking up our family tree.

I’m hooked, friends! I always found genealogy interesting but until I made that “discovery” I didn’t realize what kind of joy and excitement could come from pursuing it. Laugh if you will, but I feel proud like the mother in this picture and also a little dazed, like the baby:

They make a lovely pair but they are not Eleanor and Catherine. Darn it. My undoing came from the photographer’s name (which I couldn’t make out) and address printed at the bottom of the photograph.

With a little search engine magic, I discovered that Mr. Lundelius, the photographer in Port Jervis – *gasp of air* – did not open his studio until 1885. Eleanor would have been 11 years old then, far too old to match the baby in the picture.

The only other clue I have is August Lundelius’s obituary, from the Port Jervis Gazette, dated February 3, 1905. In other words, the baby in the picture would have been born some time between 1885 and 1904.

I will copy a portion of Mr. Lundelius’s obituary here for interest’s sake:

In the winter of 1885 he came to Port Jervis, and on the 22d of February of that year, Washington’s birthday, he opened a photographic gallery at No. 78 Pike Street. These rooms he occupied as a studio to the time of his death. Here he studied and worked, and developed the art which he loved so well. New features were introduced, and this gallery became one of the best known in this part of the state.

The name “Lundelius” attached to a picture was a guarantee of fine work. His studio grew in popularity, and Mr. Lundelius endeavored to keep pace with the growing demands of the public by unceasing toll, long hours and hard work. Vacations that he needed were never taken, and his only recreation was the hours with his family or with the societies of which he was a member.

It is believed this too close confinement had much to do in sapping the life functions and laying the foundation for the illness which finally proved fatal.

And…that may just be the universe tell you and I to take it easy. For my part, I will take the weekend off from ancestor hunting in order to spend time with the (living) members of my family. Meanwhile, if you recognize the people in this picture, please let me know!