Shalom and Hanukkah Sameach! Hanukkah 2017 begins this evening. And because I do identify as Jewish by virtue of my ancestral birthright, we find no problem with fitting it in among our celebrations of the season.
Being Jewish has everything to do with my passion for Family History. I grew up knowing that my grandmother was a Jew, but I did not feel its impact until I was required to read The Diary of Anne Frank in junior high school. The connections I made between my grandmother, Anne, and the Holocaust suddenly became very real to me, and I longed to know more about my own family’s experiences during those dark days, but it would be several decades before the truths of those times would come to light.
I know that my personal commitment to religious, cultural, and racial tolerance had its beginnings in those early literature and history lessons. I was solidly struck by the fact that I would have been targeted for death camps had I lived in Europe during those rough times, simply because my grandmother was born into Judaism. I could not wrap my mind around the fact that my whole family could have been slaughtered based on the identity of one grandparent. I still can’t.
Those early lessons in prejudice and religious/racial tension led me to want to know more. As I learned, the desire to understand that extreme commitment to birthright and religious heritage led me to make connections between my parents’ chosen religion and the tenets of faith espoused by my third great grandfather, Rabbi Heinrich Abeles.
For the longest time, the only things I knew about my Jewish predecessors were related to what I could learn through my history classes at school and church. Unfortunately, those lessons were limited to the Spanish Inquisition, the Holocaust, and the older-than-dirt-and-twice-as-dusty Old Testament, the latter of which I found beyond boring. In the intervening years between high school and the advent of the internet, I was able to glean a few more insights into Judaism, but really only enough to help me to understand the basic differences between Christmas and Hanukkah, along with the fact that all of those “potato pancakes” I’d been eating over the years as a side dish to Mom’s Christmas Saurbraten, were really Latkes, the traditional food of Hanukkah.
This photo was taken from our 2016 celebration. Tonight, Jews all over the world will light the first candle to begin their festivities.
Thanks to the internet though, I have been able to bring to life the Jewish commitment to God and tradition, and to intertwine them with my past and present. It was during those early days of inquiry that led me to understand myself as a Messianic Jew. I think there is an actual established religion out there that identifies as such, but for me, Messianic Jew is simply a way to identify my personal faith in Jesus Christ as the god of the Old Testament (“Yahweh”—whose name is too sacred to be spoken aloud). Since then, I have not only learned how to make Hanukkah an annual tradition in my home, but I have learned how music, prayer, and practice come together to make religion an integral part of daily life as a Jew. I have even been able to participate in, and appreciate, the deeply spiritual Passover Seder. Those early days of inquiry and discovery brought that dusty Old Testament back to life for me.
But doing Jewish genealogy has not been so easy. This has a lot to do with the Holocaust and the intersection of German, Hebrew, and Yiddish languages, upon none of which anyone in my family has much of a grasp. We have struggled to make connections between my grandmother’s verbal history and the truth of her past as a European Jew with not much to go on. Were it not for a handful of trinkets, photographs, and letters in a handwritten language we have yet to decipher, that past would have been nothing more than rumor.
All of that changed exactly one month ago when I received an email from a woman I’ve never met by the name of Ruth Contreras. Ruth’s letter asked about the family of Rudolf and Charlotte Abeles. She implored, “If there is the possibility to get into contact with someone of the descendants of the Abeles Family you may give them my e-mail address . . . so they can decide if they want to contact me.” Ruth not only provided the names of my great-great grandparents, but the name of my great grandmother along with the name and birthdate of my grandmother, all of whom had lived in Pitten, Austria at one point or another. This was information we already had on record, but her letter indicated that she could provide even more that we did not have. I was so overcome with excitement I had to read the email three times before I could actually believe what I was reading. The first thing I did was call my mother, after which I swiftly replied, “We are very pleased to report that you have made direct contact with descendants of the Abeles family in the United States.”
Ruth Contreras, the lovely woman who would not give up her search until we were found. (Photo Courtesy of Ruth Contreras).
After a series of back and forth emails in which we both asked and answered questions, I asked Ruth for a candid interview regarding her background and interest in finding my family. To my delight she was completely forthcoming in her answers. Ruth’s family had been next door neighbors to my family before all of the residents in the Jewish sector of Pitten were displaced or murdered in the dark days of the Holocaust. As I told her, “We must not let the world forget.” Ruth agreed, and the interview proceeded as follows:
Q: Would you prefer to be called just Ruth, or may I also share your surname?
A: You may do as you like and feel better.
Q: I have noticed that your official title is “Mag. Dr.” Does the Mag. stand for magistrate? Is the Dr. a Doctrate of Philosophy or some other kind of doctor? If magistrate, are you a magistrate for the town of Pitten?
A: My titles are „Master of science“ (I studied biology and have been teaching for some year in Vienna at a highschool.) and Dr. phil. Yes, indeed when I studied in spite of studying a branch of natural sciences the degree was Dr. phil. I have been working as an entomologist at the Natural History Museum in Vienna since 1972. From 1995 to 2003 (my retirement) I was the Head of the Department of Entomology at the Natural History Museum. After my retirement I did some terms of Jewish Studies at the University in Vienna.
A more detailed biography of Ruth Contreras along with a photograph of her family’s home in Pitten.
Q: I can see that you have a personal vestment in this project, but do you also have a more official role in the Jews of Bucklige Welt project? What is your role?
A: One of my interests is the history of Jews in Austria before the Shoah. I am working since several years on a project about the Jews that lived in the 10th district of Vienna and so I learned first about Rosa Rebecca Abeles who was deported from Alxingergasse 97 to Theresienstadt.
Some years ago I was interviewed for a book on the history of our family and the house where we are living: Johann Hagenhofer, Gert Dressel (editors) (2014) „Eine Bucklige Welt – Krieg und Verfolgung im Land der Tausend Hügel.“ ISBN: 978-3200037342 . Publisher:Alois Mayrhofer.
Q: What is the official name of the project, and how did it come about?
A: Last year I was invited by Dr. Hagenhofer to participate in the team that is doing research for a project „Die jüdische Bevölkerung der Region Bucklige Welt – Wechselland“
(English translation:The Jewish Population of the Bucklige Welt Region – Wechselland. Bucklige Welt covers more than 23 villages with approximately 39,000 inhabitants. Wechselland is a region of mountains and valleys in Lower Austria, South of Vienna. )
Q: Will there be a museum? A book? A website?
A: This project is part of the preparation for a regional Jewish Museum in Bad Erlach, which will be inaugurated in on occasion of the Lower Austrian Provincial Exhibition 2019 and yes, there are also plans for a book.
Q: How many towns in the region does the project cover?
A: We are 17 working on this project on about 25 villages and their former Jewish fellow citizens.As I am living in Pitten and had already some information, I was invited to participate in this project.
Q: How did you know to look for the Abeles family, and what was important about Rudolf, Lotti, and their children?
A: The history of the Jaul- Family in Pitten was known as well as the history of our house. In order to get more information I started with the permission of the Mayor of Pitten to check old registries at the school in Pitten where I found the information on Josefine Daniel and Heinrich Abeles. The other children of Rudolf have been added with the help of the archive of the Jewish Community in Vienna and by using the Austrian genealogical website https://www.genteam.at/.
The other important source where the registration forms where I found Rosa Rebecca repeatedly also hosting people at her home and this last document when she had to leave Pitten..
From the registration forms at the municipal archive in Wr. Neustadt I learned that Jakob Abeles had changed his name into Aldor.
The next step was to go to the Jewish Cemetery in Neunkirchen where I found the gravestone of Franziska Daniel. There is also a grave stone of a Ruben Abeles. The letters are in Hebrew, do you know the Hebrew name of your great great grandfather?
(The only name we have for my great-great grandfather is Rudolph)
Q: What was the surname of your family living next door to the Abeles family?
A: My grandparents who bought the house in 1917 were Rosa and Fritz Weiss. My parents were Elfi Lichtenberg (maiden name Weiss) and Franz Lichtenberg.
Q: Do you have any details of comradery or community between the families that can be shared?
A. I have no information if there was any contact between the families. As I told you, my mother did not talk much about this. My grandmother was born in 1880 (she was two years younger than the youngest son of Rudolf Abeles who was born in 1878) Maybe he did not even live there anymore. My mother was born in 1904 and my dad was born in 1907 so I think there was too much difference in the ages of them.
Q: How difficult was it to find us, and what led you to my website?
A: As Rosa Rebecca was the third person directly deported from Pitten I considered it important to find more information about this family. And yes, it was not easy at all to find your blog. After having contacted several groups of 2nd generation of survivors of the Shoah without success it was really by incident that I tried by using Google to look if I could find something about Josephine Daniel Wimpassing and came to your article A Renewed Tribute to Tante Rosa – Stories From the Past .
(Rosa Rebecca was a previously unidentified daughter of Rudolph Abeles. She was my great-great aunt)
One of the most fun parts of the Hanukkah celebration is the dreidel game. The dreidel is a four-sided spinner with the Hebrew letters nun, gimmel, hey, shin; one letter appears on each side. My children have very fond memories of that game which we played as a family. The letters stand for the Hebrew words, nes gadol haya sham, meaning “a great miracle happenedthere.” For my family,connecting with Ruth is a great miracle, and we are so very thankful to welcome her as a new part of our continued quest to discover the truth of our Judaistic past.
Most of my followers read my blog for just one reason: to find information regarding their own family history. This post is simply to update you on my situation and when you can expect to hear more about the family history interests that brought you to me in the first place.
Since my post regarding Grave’s disease a couple of years ago, I have undergone radiation therapy to shut down my thyroid. Living without a thyroid requires daily synthetic replacement. In the past couple of months I have suffered from hypothyroid symptoms that severely affect my general mental alertness. It is difficult to focus, stay awake, and remain pain and symptom free if I sit at the computer for more than just a few minutes. Hence my recent post regarding tennis elbow (just one symptom of the larger disorder). To make my long story short, I have been back to the doctor and am having my medication adjusted. In the meantime, my blog has suffered.
Please accept my sincere apologies. Many of the posts I had planned for the past few weeks just haven’t happened. I do expect my blog to return to normal function as my body responds accordingly. So here is what you can expect over the next few weeks and into the new year:
An introduction to my new friend from Austria, Ruth Contreras. She was just as anxious to find me as I have been anxious to find family members in Austria. We are both very grateful to have found each other. Ruth’s project, a recovery of pre-holocaust Jewish families from the Bucklige Welt region in Austria is a very exciting development.
Another Cousin Connection to Kwiatkowski brothers living in Hawaii, along with their holiday traditions.
My very first ancestor landing page featuring my great-great grandfather, Rudolf Abeles from Austria. My grandmother was very close to him, and even lived with him in Pitten during his later years where she attended primary school and helped him with daily tasks. We believe he lived to be 99 years old!
An exploration of Sephardic Jews in Europe, and how one particular Sephardic family ended up in Austtria. (My mother always said she would take a hard look into the mirror looking for evidence of her Spanish heritage).
My second ancestor landing page featuring Aucke Wykoff. He was a Colonel in the American Revolution, and was credited with saving the life of a fellow POW in the infamous New York Sugar House Prison. The man he saved was more than just a friend, he was a member of the family.
An exploration of life in the Sugar House prison and how Aucke Wykoff was related to Toby Polhemus.
In the next year, I’ll be updating and revisiting the life of Mary Davis Skeen, the woman who started my journey to learn more about Plain
Just one example of Kentucky’s historical stone fences.
City Utah’s Pioneer History, and the inspiration for this website.
A deeper look into the people and events that make up this place that is my new home. I’ll begin with a close look at the historical “Slave Fences” of Kentucky and the efforts to preserve them. I see evidence of this Irish stonecraft everywhere around here.
In the meantime, I have discovered some exciting information about Family History in Kentucky. I was able to visit the public library for the first time yesterday, and found some amazing help for family historians. There is tons of information available through their resources, and I want to showcase their upcoming Tuesday afternoon online events from 3-4 pm Eastern Standard Time:
P.S. You don’t need to have a library card or even live in Kentucky for these online events. To view online, tune into @KentonLibrary on Periscope (available on your smartphone or tablet), or at periscope.tv/kentonlibrary. Dec. 5 and 12 events look like they’d be interesting for people everywhere, especially those with German and/or Christian backgrounds.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled blog post for this important announcement:
I am pleased to report that I have made a very special connection to family, friends, and neighbors who were lost in the Holocaust.
In the past few days a flurry of emails have gone back and forth between my parents, myself, and a new acquaintance from Austria.
It began with a message coming directly through this website. (Hooray for contact forms!) A woman in Austria has found my posts regarding my grandmother and my great-aunts who were members of the pre-holocaust Jewish community in Lower Austria. She wanted to know if I could put her in contact with surviving members of the Abeles family from Pitten, Austria.
Hey, that’s me!
Completely stunned, I had to read the message three times before I could comprehend that this woman not only knew of my family, but even had some information regarding my family that I did not yet have. I did not quite understand why she was contacting me, but the fact that she knew so much about my grandmother and great-great grandfather was enough to spur me to respond–right after making a very excited phone call to my mother in Utah.
It turns out that this Austrian woman seems just as excited to have gotten a positive response from me. You see, her family lived next door to my family before both families were sent fleeing from imminent Nazi threat. She was eager to know if there were survivors of her family’s old-time friends. The good news is yes, there were several survivors, and the fact that she was able to find me is evidence.
I. Am. Ecstatic.
As a result of my excitement over this new contact, I accidentally closed out all of the renewed pages I had open for research on this week’s new page and corresponding blog post. Once again, I am having to start over to gather resources for the page and article on Aucke Wikoff that was supposed to have been posted last week.
Thanks to this new information, my family was able to update existing family members and add another we were unaware of. On top of that, we now know where my great-grandmother was buried and have a photo of her grave. I think the new page and blog post are going to be put on the back burner for the next couple of weeks as I converse with my new family friend and sort out this new story from the past.
My great-grandmother, Franziska “Fanny” Abeles Daniel
The tombstone, finally identified.
Luckily, this new information came before the post I had planned for next week on the Daniel family. It looks like I’ll be doing something a little different now that I have new information that actually helps to clarify the blog post I had planned for next week. I am really looking forward to sharing all of this with you.
In honor of Mexico’s Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), which officially begins at midnight, November’s Cousin Connection comes one day early. Coinciding with the the Catholic All Saints Day, and incorporating garish costumes resembling skeletons, Dia de los Muertos is not Mexican Halloween, but a much more elaborate version of Memorial Day in the U.S.
In Mexico, this year’s commemoration began a few days ago with a large parade including a salute to rescue workers who worked tirelessly to save family, friends, and fellow countrymen from the rubble of recent earthquakes.
When Pete, a Mexican friend from college, entered a Facebook post celebrating his recent connection to cousins he never knew he had, I decided that this week’s holiday is the perfect time to include it.
Pete’s mother abt. 4 years old
Gonzales grandparents
Pete at 15
Pete tells his own story:
I have become obsessed with making a family tree. It did not just happen out of nowhere. It started when I submitted my son’s DNA to Ancestry.com. I wanted to show him his multi-ethnic background. We were not disappointed. He is from all over the world–every continent except Antarctica and Australia.
Ancestry told us that he is mostly Native American from the area of Zacatecas and Aguacalientes. His ethnicity estimate is also 24% Great Britain with Western Europe, the Iberian Peninsula, Scandinavia, Ireland, Finland, European Jewish, Polynesia, the Middle East, Senegal, and Africa North all vying for a slice of the genetic pie.
But this smorgasbord of the world is not what compelled me to create a family tree. It was a feature of Ancestry that I did not expect. Our DNA was matched with other people who submitted their DNA with Ancestry.
There was a small group of people who were listed as close relatives. Some of these were easy to figure out. They were: a sister of my wife, a first cousin of my wife and his daughter, and a first cousin of my son. Then, there was a man and a woman who had a majority of Native American ethnicity in their report. They had to be related to my side.
But how?
My father was the only member of his family who came to this country. That was in 1948. How could he have close relatives in this country? My mother was raised as an only child. I was the only Mexican in the world who did not have a cousin, an uncle, or an aunt. We held our family reunions inside a closet. But, on the bright side, there were more tamales for us during the holidays. We did not have to share them with relatives.
But who are these people that Ancestry claims are closely related to my family?
Did my father stray, and now the evidence is coming back Maury Povich style to say that “The DNA evidence is in, you are the father?” Did my mother’s parents have a secret child? Did I have a close relative from Mexico who came unannounced to Chicago in the 1930s?
I did some research and found that these two people listed on Ancestry are from Chicago. One was 73 years old. The other was in her 20s.
The older man eliminated my father. My father was not here 73 years ago. He was still in Mexico.
Was my mother’s lingering doubt that her parents are not her biological parents more than a doubt? Could she be related to this 73 year-old man?
I found records for the younger woman. She had been arrested a couple of times in her early 20s. We have to be related and share the arrested development gene. My line has proven that this gene exists. It lingered in me into my twenties.
She lives in a northern suburb of Chicago. The older man lived in an adjacent suburb. They lived near each other.
I went to Facebook. I found a connection between the two people. I began to develop a hypothesis. These were the biological relatives of my mother, who was adopted in 1934. Now, I need to apply science to prove my hypothesis. I need evidence.
I sent messages via Ancestry to both people. I did not receive a response. I tried again. I received the same result-no reply.
I began to create my tree. I spent about 200 hours in September researching for my tree. September is our month off for home school. I needed to make progress and uncover these connections in one month before I started in October with Geometry, U.S. Government, Spanish, and Language Arts for my 13-year-old son. He takes three other classes in the regular school system.
I was obsessed. I searched every clue. I looked under every rock. Researching my family is not an easy thing. My name is not Gonzalez. Anyone researching my family will come to an instant dead end.
Our real family name may go back only a few generations. It may not be our real family name. Family legend has it that someone in the family line helped a gang rob a Zacatecas silver mine payroll. He then disappeared into another Mexican state with a new name and a richer, new life. I found nothing to prove or disprove that legend.
I did hit a dead end with the family lineage in the mid 19th century.
If my mother was adopted then there is another instant dead end. Could these two people be the key to answering the question about my mother’s biological parents?
Maybe my mother was not adopted although I have always believed in that theory. My grandparents resemble no one in my family. None of them look like any of the ensuing offspring. I look like my dad. My son, Pete, looks like me.
Did I really want to go down this road?
In my mind, my grandparents will always be my grandparents no matter what I find out. My grandmother, in her late-60s, would take her rug muffin [sic] grandchildren to the movies and to the 12th Street beach. She had a folding chair, and she would sit and wait with us at the Roosevelt Street bus stop. She did a lot for us.
I loved swimming in the 12th Street Beach. I never would have had that experience if not for my grandmother. She cared about us.
I loved the movies except for a horror movie that was in Spanish. I was afraid for about a week after watching it. I was about six years old.
She fed us when we visited her apartment down the street on Peoria. She fed me my first jalapeno when I was about five. She and her husband laughed about it. It was a rite of passage, and one of my dearest memories of them. She was performing an important ritual. I cannot live without jalapenos and spicy foods.
I searched census forms from the 1930s, line by line, of every residence in the Taylor Street area. I looked at immigration records, marriage records, death records, and I sent out a few smoke signals and gave offerings of fried bread and jalapenos to the family tree gods.
I made flowcharts comparing the DNA evidence and the relationship between these two people and me. I developed a hypothesis that the older man had to be either the first cousin of my mother or her brother.
I hit dead ends in my search for more information. I felt hesitant to call to contact the man. What does one say?
“I think that your mother or your aunt gave up your older sister/cousin for adoption. I have no evidence, it is just a hunch.”
I do not think so.
There was one other person who was listed as a close relative. She had a family tree with about 3,000 people listed on it, but it was private. I contacted her and asked for permission to look at her extensive family tree. I explained that we probably shared a common ancestor from one hundred years ago. I was hoping that her family tree would provide some vital clues to help me determine how we are related. She granted me permission, but she added that she doubted if we were related. She said that she had no Gonzalez in her tree.
Neither did I.
Looking at her tree was an eye opener. I immediately found a link between her and the two people who are closely related to me. I asked her about the two. One was the granddaughter of her aunt. The other, the 73 year-old man, was her first cousin.
Let’s call her aunt Aunt Zuzu.
If he was my mother’s first cousin, then this woman with the family tree was also my mother’s first cousin. I was on the right track.
She said that all her family lived in the Taylor Street area. She was not sure if we were related.
Her grandparents had one daughter who possibly could have been the mother of my mother. All the DNA evidence would fit if she was. There were two daughters who possibly could be the biological mother of my mother. One was pregnant with another child when my mother was born. It could not be her. The other would have been 14 when she was pregnant with my mother. I think it was this teen who gave birth to my mother.
I asked my mother if she knew this Aunt Zuzu. My mother’s voice picked up with excitement when she heard Zuzu’s name. She said that Zuzu was her cousin.
Cousin? But she had no relatives in Chicago. How could she be related? She said that my grandmother wanted her to address Zuzu as her cousin Zuzu and to call Zuzu’s mother dia Maria.
I asked her the name of Zuzu’s mother. She answered. It was the exact name of the mother of the person who I hypothesized was the biological mother of my mother. Dia Maria most likely was my mother’s grandmother.
It was a tangled web.
Zuzu’s mother was a close friend of my grandmother. Who else would you trust with your grandchild but your good, trusted friend?
It made sense. Was Aunt Zuzu my mother’s biological aunt? Was her sister the teen who gave up her daughter, my mother, for adoption? It was during the Great Depression. She came from a large family. She was only 14 when she became pregnant.
Was I solving this puzzle that I thought was unsolvable? I had thought that anyone who would know the truth about my mother was long deceased. But here I am, on the cusp of putting in the last few pieces of this puzzle.
Her mother was right there all the time. It was the older sister of her friend, Zuzu.
The owner of the huge family tree confirmed that her aunt had given up her child for adoption. She had heard that family story.
My mother is 83.
Her parents will always be her parents.
She finally found out the truth and received the answer to her doubt. It all fell into place like it was preordained. We were meant to know the truth while she was still alive.
In her last response. the woman with the huge family tree addressed the message to cousin Pete. I smiled when I read it.
I finally have a cousin. I am no longer the only Mexican in the world sin primos.
Along with his other cemetery photographs, Bernie sent me three tombstones of literary figures. How did he know I majored in English? Perhaps Bernie is more of a kindred spirit than I thought.
The first is a photo of Emily Dickinson’s grave. I have few favorites when it comes to poetry, and Dickinson is easily my American favorite. It is believed that she suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), and many of her poems reflect her struggle. I really relate to her poem, There’s a certain Slant of light, as I also suffer from SAD. When I read it for the first time, I felt that she put into words exactly what SAD feels like. In fact, as the days begin to grow shorter again, and the sun begins to approach that winter “slant,” I am starting to feel “the Heft of Cathedral Tunes” once again.
Emily Dickinson tombstone, West Cemetery, Amherst MA, Photographed by Bernie Kubiak
There’s a certain Slant of light
BY EMILY DICKINSON
There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference –
Where the Meanings, are –
None may teach it – Any –
‘Tis the seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –
When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –
The second tombstone is from St. Bonaventure Cemetery, the same cemetery where many of my relatives are buried. I had never heard of Robert Lax until I received this photo of his tombstone. He was born into Judaism in the same town my father came from, but converted to Catholicism in his adult years. He lived in the islands of Greece for more than thirty years of his adult life; first on the island of Kalymnos, then Patmos. Lax returned to his birthplace of Olean, New York during the last few weeks of his life. Most of his original work is now housed at St. Bonaventure University, where his funeral services were held. (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/robert-lax)
Robert Lax tombstone, St. Bonaventure University Cemetery, Allegany NY, Photographed by Bernie Kubiak
Lax was a minimalist poet. His ability to put together small words with few syllables in a single line down the page, and still pack both imagery and depth of meaning into those simple lines is amazing. I found his poem about life in Kalymnos, titled simply, “Kalymnos,” a very simple read; it only took a few minutes to get through it. Somehow though, the poem felt more like a novella as I absorbed its meaning. Divided into “chapters,” I feel 3 adequately captures the mood of the season with its description of the death of a fishing vessel. The vessel itself was the only casualty:
Kalymnos
BY ROBERT LAX
at 5
in the
morning
at the
cafeneion
the captain
described
the wreck:
the boat
had turned
over &
over
in the
water
churning it
like a
propell-
er
The final tombstone in this collection comes from America’s best known literary artist. Born Samuel Langhorne Clemens, he later adopted the pen-name Mark Twain. Despite many highly acclaimed literary successes, Twain suffered great loss as a husband and father, and was not as successful financially as he was artistically. Three of his children and his wife preceded him in death, and his declining literary success may have contributed to increasing pessimism in his later years. In his final days, Twain was said to have become a recluse prone to “volcanic rages and nasty bouts of paranoia .” (https://www.biography.com/people/mark-twain-9512564) He died in 1910 at his Connecticut home, and was laid to rest in Elmira, New York.
When I think of Twain, I don’t think of his final days. I think of Tom Sawyer’s Aunt Polly standing on her front porch, fists planted firmly on each hip, and shouting, “You, Tom!” while Tom runs blithely in the opposite direction. I loved both Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.
My favorite work of Twain’s is his short story, The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, but I wanted to include something of Twain’s more fitting for the season, so I went in search of a ghost story. I was not disappointed. In fact, what I found is actually titled A Ghost Story. Like most of Twain’s literary works, this one is quite suitable for children. Before you read it to your kids, though, I recommend that you read up on the background story of The Cardiff Giantat History.com. Share the giant’s history with your children before reading A Ghost Story. Just follow the links to each.
My birthday is this week. I consider this post my birthday gift. I thoroughly enjoyed “opening” it. Thanks, Bernie!
I had already published my first Cousin Connection when I met Diedre MacLean, I just didn’t know it yet. Diedre contacted me using Stories From the Past’s Tell Your Story form after she discovered several name matches from the same cemetery where Kathy, wife of my cousin Chuck, had discovered a connection to me. It was Diedre’s WordPress message that inspired me to create my Cousin Connection. If I could connect with Diedre through an online cemetery photo, I figured the possibilities were endless. There may be an end somewhere, but as long as there are ancestors yet to be found, I can keep telling stories for many years to come.
Diedre’s information came from word of mouth. Her grandmother shared her family’s history with her, as I am sure it was passed along from generation to generation. When Diedre shared the information with me, I could see that we did indeed have a solid match. I just needed to verify the information that matched our shared ancestor, so I started with Elenor Haskins, Diedre’s g-g-g-grandmother whom Diedre believed to be the daughter of our shared ancestors William Auckey Wyckoff and his wife Eleanor Van Mater. The first thing I found was her tombstone.
As I probed into FamilySearch data, and did a records search, I found discrepancies from the tombstone of Elenor [Wykoff] Haskins, and the Eleanor Wykoff listed as daughter to our shared ancestor. The first and last names matched, but the dates did not match the tombstone. I assumed the dates on the tombstone were correct. (They are written in stone.) I knew we had the right ancestor. After all, it would have had to have been an elaborate hoax on Diedre’s part, and really, what’s in it for either of us? We are, after all, complete strangers. So what was missing?
Insription: ELENOR, Wife of Charles Haskins, died Jan. 11, 1873 aged 40 yrs
After further communication with Diedre, I was convinced that I did indeed have the right tombstone, but I was not convinced that I had found the right ancestor on FamilySearch. I began to rattle some bones. I surmised that Diedre was missing a generation in her family tree, so I began digging with the oldest male among William and Eleanor Wykoff’s thirteen children. He had a daughter named Elenor. Her husband’s name did not match. The next child was the daughter named Eleanor, so I skipped her. The third child and second son also had a daughter named Eleanor. but her husband, children, and death date did not match either. I was beginning to worry that I would have to search all thirteen of the Wykoff children before I found the right Eleanor. The third son was my g-g-g-grandfather Cyrenius. He didn’t have any Eleanors. Thank goodness. I found Diedre’s Eleanor with the fourth son Charles. I was right. Charles was the missing link and his wife’s name was
-wait for it-
-wait for it-
Eleanor! Obviously his wife was not the Eleanor Haskins I was looking for, but their daughter was.
So. William married Eleanor. They had a daughter named Eleanor. Their sons could not be named Eleanor so they named their daughters Eleanor. Charles, one of those sons, had a wife named Eleanor and they also named their daughter Eleanor. She married a Charles too, but they named their daughter Etta, who named her daughter Eleanor, and that Eleanor named her daughter Etta. That Etta was Diedre’s Grandmother. Confused? That’s why I make charts.
The exciting part in all of this for me, is not the first name of Charles Wykoff’s wife, but her maiden name which is the same as my grandmother’s. Diedre and I may have more in common than we thought.
In the end, Diedre and I are fifth cousins once removed. I am still a bit confused about the fact that Elenor Wykoff Haskins married a man named Charles and that her mother and father just happened to be named Eleanor and Charles as well. It’s not impossible that four individuals just happened to share given names with previously unrelated people, but I could not find corroborating evidence in the form of primary sources. The only thing proving FamilySearch’s information to be correct is that tombstone.
I solved one mystery, but that leads to other mysteries. Welcome to genealogy.
I’d like to give a shout out to Bernie Kubiak for freely sharing his photographs with us for Cemetery Month at StoriesFromThePast.com. His talent as a photographer comes from years of practice. A large portion of the photographs submitted by Bernie for cemetery month come from St. Bonaventure Cemetery in Allegany New York. Bernie shares his reason in a short autobiographical passage:
“My mother took it upon herself to maintain the family graves at St. Bonaventure Cemetery and frequently took me with her to help. That, plus the fun of rolling down the big hill where the Stations of the Cross were, kind of started an interest in cemeteries and how people memorialize the deceased. As the opportunity presents itself, I make images of cemeteries, not as documents but my impression of the place. The older cemeteries are visually more interesting, before graveyards took on an industrial quality with similar stones at precise intervals which makes for easier maintenance. Some cemeteries started in the 19th century were designed to be places to visit, with gardens, picnic spots, and walking trails.
I’m largely self-taught as a photographer, taken some workshops, and have benefited greatly from acquaintances sharing skills. I abandoned film over a decade ago, freed myself from the darkroom, and find myself wondering when I’ll have the time or resources to scan all the slides I’ve left behind. I’ve been fortunate enough to exhibit in galleries in Massachusetts and Vermont and do sell prints. But photography remains an avocation. Having retired from too many years working in human services and municipal management, I can spend more time at the craft and maybe even finish up a website. In the interim, one can find a very random sample of my work at: www.flickr.com/photos/berniekubiak/.”
Bernie is attracted to cemeteries for the stories he can tell through images. It turns out that Bernie and I have a lot in common when it comes to cemeteries. Whodathunk?
You can scan and send your registration form to Shirlene or Karin at the corresponding email address in the image directly above and on the left. See you there!
Since Bernie is the photographer, he naturally chose a cemetery with family in it. St. Bonaventure Cemetery in Allegany, New York is quite a large cemetery, and I found many family names among the Kwiatkowskis buried there, including my great grandfather and great-great grandmother (Bernie’s great-uncle and great grandmother), . The family relationships can get a bit confusing when I try to position myself and Bernie with the dead relative, but I did use the cousin finder, and I think I got it right. If you see any mistakes in family progression, please feel free to let me know so I can straighten it out.
Bernie’s grandparents’ tombstone (my great-granduncle and “Babci Mary”).Bernie’s namesake who died in WWII when his plane crashed, probably in Papua New Guinea (my first cousin twice removed).
The cemetery is named for a local university that students claim to be haunted. Who knows whether the stories are actually true. You can read themhere and decide for yourself. In the meantime, here’s one as a great companion to those late night readings. You may want to keep the light on.
Happy October! I’m featuring cemetery photos from my cousin Bernie Kubiak this month. This one is from Chestnut Hill Cemetery in the village of Portville, New York (near Olean).
Photo by Bernie Kubiak
I don’t think we have any relatives buried here. You can find a complete listing of interments here.
As a result of my excitement over this new contact, I accidentally closed out all of the renewed pages I had open for research on this week’s new page and corresponding blog post. Once again, I am having to start over to gather resources for the page and article on Aucke Wikoff that was supposed to have been posted last week.
In the end, Diedre and I are fifth cousins once removed. I am still a bit confused about the fact that Elenor Wykoff Haskins married a man named Charles and that her mother and father just happened to be named Eleanor and Charles as well. It’s not impossible that four individuals just happened to share given names with previously unrelated people, but I could not find corroborating evidence in the form of primary sources. The only thing proving FamilySearch’s information to be correct is that tombstone.
The cemetery is named for a local university that students claim to be haunted. Who knows whether the stories are actually true. You can read them
StoriesFromthePast.com 
