Unshoveling the Past

Photo of the Day: Luna Park, Pittsburgh

2013-04-03T10:46:00.000-04:00

General market in downtown Pittsburgh, circa 1900-1910. © Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

Photo of the Day: Frances Steiner

2012-11-27T12:37:00.002-05:00

Thanks to a distant relative that I met through Ancestry.com, Bonnie Chaffee, I have this wonderful photo of my great, great, great grandmother, Frances (Frannie) Koomer Steiner (Bonnie and I both share Frannie as our 3x great grandmother). Frannie was born on April 26, 1818, in Switzerland and married Johan Jacob Steiner when she was only 17. They had a few children, moved to Pennsylvania, and had a few more – ten children in all. She died when she was 71, on April 11, 1889, seven years before Johan. Thanks, Bonnie, for sharing such a wonderful photo with Louisa's ancestors!

Happy Veteran's Day, Cousin Jack Veckly

2012-11-11T18:28:00.001-05:00

My first cousin once removed is the little boy on the left, Jack Veckly, with his father John. My mother Nancy is on the right, with her mother Sally. Jack and Nancy were very close throughout their childhood, having been born only four months apart. Both families lived in the same house together in Cleveland when they were born. Jack died when he was only 19 years old, on November 1, 1951, in the Korean War. Jack was in Company 2, 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Division. He died in the battle referred to as the "Battle for the Punchbowl", the hardest fought battle of the Korean War. This post is dedicated to him, and to all other veterans who lost their lives in the Korean War.

My Norwegian Family: The Stangelands

2012-10-04T19:27:00.003-04:00

This post is my father's unedited, genealogical research of the Stangelands, my paternal grandmother's family, which dates back to the early 1400's. He sent this document to every known descendant of this family back in the late 1990's. This document was one of the reasons I became interested in genealogy and carrying on his research, both on my father's Norwegian side of the family and the German/Italian side of my mother. This document was a huge help, and on Ancestry.com, I was able to confirm that his information was correct.

Notes: Genealogical practice in developing family trees is to follow the line of eldest son to eldest son to eldest son, and so on. In the Stangeland Family there is a direct line of eldest sons from Øystein Askildson to Andreas Kristiansen. From Andreas the direct line would be through Lars Stangeland, who had both a son and grandson. So that the rest of us can continue our family histories, I am showing other of Andreas’ children as being directly in line.

Note that the surname of each child is his father’s first name, plus sen or son (son of), or datter (daughter of) Sometimes the farm location is added (Hompland, Maudal). This practice continued until the 19th century, when surnames were fixed. In this family tree you will see that father’s first name plus sen or son continues through to Andreas Kristiansen, my great-grandfather. His children all took Stangeland, the location of the family farm, as their surname. The practice of father’s first name plus sen continues in Iceland to this day.

Pre-Family: The first recorded history in Norway was in the late 700's. Vikings were active from 793 to about 1200. The country was unified by Harald Hårfagre about 900 in a battle outside of Stavanger, making him the first King of Norway. In 995, Olaf I brought Christianity to Norway and Olaf II (St. Olaf) strengthened its foundation in 1016.

Dynastic wars weakened the country by 1270, with Germans establishing important trading operations in Bergen and other cities. From 1320 to 1513 Norway was ruled by Kings of Denmark and Sweden, and from 1513 to 1814, by Denmark alone, and then to 1905 by Sweden. On May 17, 1905, Norway declared its independence.

The Black Death was carried on a ship arriving in Bergen in 1349. The effect on isolated farming communities was devastating; estates could not be maintained when workers were dying everywhere. Norway’s population declined one-half, to 180,000.

Denmark levied heavy taxes on the population, and collectors rode to farms for produce in lieu of cash. The Roman Catholic Church was consolidated with the Government, and owned and controlled much of the country.

The Stangeland Family – 1430

In each of us there is a drop of blood and some genes from Øystein Askildson and Maurits Fintland.

Øystein Askildson owned the farm in Hompland, in Fintland, in Sirdal commune (county), just across the border from Rogaland commune, where are located Stavanger, Kleppe and Maudal. In 1469, because of misconduct toward his local priest and for living in an immoral way, according to Diplomatarium Norvegicum (a large collection of Middle Age letters), Askildson had to mortgage his property to the church (Catholic). The mortgage was paid in full by Maurits Fintland’s grandsons.

It is difficult to get earlier information because many records were lost or destroyed when Lutheranism replaced Catholicism in 1563. Øystein Askildson’s connection to Maurits Fintland in unknown, but as rights to the farm descended to Maurits and his descendents, it can be acknowledged that Askildson was the first known man in our family.

Maurits Fintland is mentioned in the 1519 and 1521 censuses as the only person listed in the part of the Sirdal valley which lay within Stavanger county. In addition to the Hompland farm, he owned the farms in Maudal and property in Bjerkreim. In addition to the two sons listed below, quite possibly the families living in on Fintland, Finsnes, Lindland and Osen are also descendants of Maurits.

A county court judgement in 1574 recognized that Maurits’s sons Kjetil and Tollak were valid heirs to Maurits’s property. The 1563 census shows Tollak living on Hompland: In later years he was called Tollak Lindland. Kjetil is listed in the 1575 census, on Hompland.

Maurits Tollefson Maudal was born on Osen in Sirdal in Fintland, and moved to Øvre Maudal in 1603. He was the owner of Øvre Maudal, Austrumdal, one quarter of Nedre Maudal, and had shares of Hovland, Espeland and Nevland. In 1603 and 1612 he paid taxes of one dollar and, in 1624, five marks (all in coin). He also paid, in 1624, measures of butter in Maudal, Øverbo and Austrumdal, and corn in Espeland and Hovland. He was listed in the census of 1617.

Anna’s paternal family all lived in Øvre Maudal: Her maternal line lived in Ims, Mele, Ims in Høle, Froyland in Riska, Mele in Forsand, and Øvre Bjørheim. In 1660 her grandparents were married in the church in Høle. Movement like this is surprising, until it is realized that in large families children had to leave home to find work.

Marita’s parents were married in 1686 in the church in Høle. Her paternal family came from Nedre Espedal, Frafjord, N. Rossavik, Kristi Frafjord, Rossavik and Kjosavik.

I visited the Stangeland farm in August, 1996. The farm is now owned by Martin Stangeland (no relation) who has 20 dairy cattle, sheep, chickens, and grows corn and wheat. Martin pointed out some low buildings on the slope below his house and barn and said that was where our Stangeland family lived and worked for four generations. He said that other families also lived in the buildings and that everyone lived communally.

This new information about Johanna being Andreas’ mother came from KLEPP GARDS- OG ÆTTESOGA, which states that Johanna was a 23-year old “gjente”, which translates to housemaid. Family consensus now is that after ten years of marriage to Berta without child (the first marriage was to Ingeborg, who died after one year) Kristian was 40 years old, and very much wanted a child. So, he and Berta apparently made a contract with Johanna for her to bear Kristian’s child. She did so, giving birth to Andreas, and after completing nursing him, gave him to Berta, who raised him as her own. When Andreas was 13, Berta died, and Kristian married Elen two years later. The contract apparently was kept secret: Peder’s daughters believed Berta was their great-grandfather and Gerhard (George) told his granddaughter that his grandmother was Elen.

Andreas Kristiansen

A family comment about this news - Johanna had good genes, implying “Look at us all now!”. After giving up the infant, Johanna left the household and married soon after. She had a number of children, all of whom emigrated to America. She lived in Kleppe her entire life, and apparently had good relations with Kristian and Berta.

When Kristian died, one-half of the farm was given to Andreas and one-quarter each to his step-brothers. Since to farm one-quarter of the rocky farm was not viable, each sold his portion to Andreas. Lars emigrated to Iowa, worked on a homesteader’s farm, married the daughter, and inherited an enormous, rich farm when the father died. Johannes emigrated to Oregon.

When Andreas Kristiansen left the farm and moved to Stavanger the communal arrangement that had existed was broken up and everyone separated. The reason Andreas moved to Stavanger was that he had been raising beef cattle and sheep, and would slaughter them and take then to the market in Stavanger. He saw an opportunity to be a full-time butcher, and so decided to move his family to Stavanger for that purpose.

From 1825 to 1925, 800,000 persons left Norway, mostly for North America. Included were the three sons and three daughters of Andreas Kristiansen indicated above with an asterisk. As a result of this mass migration there are more people of Norwegian ancestry living outside of Norway (5 million) than there are today in Norway (4.3 million). The impact of the migration of mostly younger persons resulted in labor shortages today, compelling the Government to encourage immigration of foreign refugees to Norway. Immigrants from over 100 countries now live and work in Norway.

Note the birth and death dates of Gina. All birth dates were copied from Andreas’ family bible by Anne Mae Gunstrom Alter, the granddaughter of Maren. The bible is in the hands of Anne Marie Drange in Stavanger. I have the letter that the Laguna Honda Hospital in San Francisco sent to my aunt, Clara Stangeland Endresen. The letter states that Gina died December 21, 1991. Gina died exactly one month short of 110 years of age. I visited Gina in the hospital, with my wife and son, in September, 1989, when she was 107. She remembered me and my mother, and asked how was Mrs. Ambrose.

Alfrida emigrated from Norway when she was 17. Her mother had died, her father was planning to re-marry, and she did not like her prospective step-mother. Her grandfather Andreas, to the chagrin of her father, suggested that she go to Syracuse, New York where she had two aunts and two uncles. Andreas said if she remained in Norway she would become the surrogate mother to her two younger sisters. Alfrida did so, sailing to Montreal enroute to Syracuse.

Alfrida met Edwin Ambrose, born in Horten, Norway, at a Norwegian Lodge in Syracuse. Edwin had served one compulsory year in the Norwegian Navy, then completed a two-tear program at Horten Technical Institute, where he learned to be a draftsman. Since there were no employment opportunities in Norway, he sailed to Montreal and to Massena, N.Y., where he heard there was work in Syracuse. He found a job, and was employed all during the depression. Edwin was born as Øivind Ambrosiusen, son of Martinus Ambrosiusen and Hilda Hansen. He anglicized his name to simplify his life. He worked 35 years for the Solvay Process Company, a division of Allied Chemical Corporation.

Photos of the Day: Goodyear Vigilant, circa 1930

2012-09-25T18:20:00.001-04:00

Kaptein Peder Stangeland

2012-09-21T08:11:00.002-04:00

Today, September 21, I celebrate my great grandfather Peder Stangeland on his birthday. He was born in 1873 and lived to be 95 years old.

Below is my very lame attempt to translate a 1933 Norwegian article about Peder Stangeland's 60th birthday. Many of the clippings in my grandparent's scrapbook were Norwegian, of course, and though I should enlist the help of my many relatives in Norway, I used Google Translation, with limited success as you can see (corrections or proper translation is always welcome!).

Captain Peder Stangeland, who will be well known to the traveler audience on our side, turns 60 years on 21 the latter. He is Klepps by birth, but in 8-year-age he moved with his parents to Stavanger, where he was confirmed, and 5 days after graduation he went to sea for long voyages, only 14 years old. Stangeland stayed until 1895, when he came home and took navigation school, after which he went out with Professor Nordenskjold on long voyages.

In 1897, Stangeland was married, and thus was the end of the road in distant waters. He was appointed as Officer on Eira and was there for 4 years. Later he was 2 Officer on dpsk. Sandnæs (now Gann), where he served for 7 years to 1910. This year bought Farmann, something Stangeland led the route Bergen - Hardanger and Stavanger, and then sold the boat to Sandnes, followed by Stangeland. Later he became agent for the Oscar and Eira here in town and served as such until 1923. In some moments between he led among others on Eira.

But Stangeland went again in some distance and led among others, the steamer Majoren, something sank en route from Iceland with a purse of herring, etc. The crew was made up of an Ålesunds-fishing boat and were landed there. In 1928, led Stangeland Hanseat, which was in foreign trade and coasting, but this boat was sold after a years time. The last boat Stangeland led was Hundvaåg, associated shipowner Pedersen. Last year he had to end the sea because of a foot injury and now runs his farm on Våland.

Marching from Liverpool to LeHavre

2012-09-17T21:46:00.001-04:00

Another oral story and a week of journal entries from my grandfather, Carl O. Ericke, from WWI.

Well anyway, we crossed the Channel, went to Le Havre, and from there on the joy riding was over. We were no longer in the cavalry, as I said, and after hours of taking the American three-inch guns apart, we were now being trained on the French 75, which was a new job altogether, and we had to learn all over again. They put us through some rather hectic days learning about the French 75. See it in action, here: FirstWorldWar.com.

And the only thing we had to do with horses from then on were with the horses that carried the caissons. We had to take care of them even though we didn’t ride them. And when I say take care of them – I mean it. We had to wash their privates with soap and water. It's a nasty thing even to talk about it, but they didn’t make it easy for you. We had to take care of them because we depended on them to pull the caissons, so that's about all there is to say at this time.

Saturday, June 8, 1918

Piled off the boat in Liverpool. Oh what a great feeling to stand on real ground after 14 days of water. They left half of our battery to do the work at the dock, Eck too. What a glorious feeling, as we hiked along. Our eyes bulged. Buildings are not very tall. Passed a factory. Lot of girls working in overalls watched us go by. Glorious feeling with the band playing Illinois, girl motormen, double-deck cars with big windows. Few young men but bunches of children and women and old men. Very hilly and we soon showed signs of fatigue. Marched 8 miles to a rest camp called Knotty Ash: big orphan home. Band made up of little kids in sailor suits escorted us for a half mile or so. Mostly uphill – after being on boat so long was pretty hard. Few dropped out. Letters home ought to get out.

Camp consists of about two dozen big tents, 20 men in a tent. Little straw ticks. Coffee nice and bread is all we got. Band played a concert. Couldn’t even go to the fence. Seems as if a regiment before us had bought wine and booze from women and as a result the colonel killed two of the men. He is being held for trial. We’re always out of luck. Some camp followers stood at rear fence and talked a lot of rot. Lots of women flirted with us but that’s all. Guess we’ll be here tomorrow too. They call it a rest camp. Believe me we needed it after that hike.

Sunday, June 9, 1918

Left at about 10am for the train, right near camp. Got more rations of corn willy and hard tack. Funny little cars where you get in on the side, like you see in the movies, eight to a compartment.

Got into Winchester at about 9:30pm. Then a 2-mile hike to barracks at Dinam Hill. Seems everything is hills and we always go up them. Pretty tired and hungry but no eats. It was 4pm in Chicago when we went to bed. Mighty tired carrying those packs.

Monday, June 10, 1918

Slept till 8am. Breakfast of bread (2 pieces) and jelly and coffee. Not much for hungry tummies. Don’t like English camps much.

Went to the English canteen and American YMCA. Wrote some letters. Can’t get any cake or cookies. Very little candy – and expensive. Everything costs a bob (shilling) or more. Five-count bag of Bull a shilling and a two pence. Fierce. Have wet canteen – too bad as usual we are not allowed in.

Tuesday, June 11, 1918

Lieutenant Jones took us for a hike thru Winchester. It is England’s first capital. Last Parliament met there in 945. Saw the Winchester Cathedral. One part of it was built in year of 500. Saw palace of King William the Conqueror, some palace – old dump. Also Parliament Building, King Arthur’s original Round Table, Carving of Queen Victoria, King Lear, etc. Also old relics and souvenirs. Great stuff, all that ancient stuff of which England is proud.

Wednesday, June 12, 1918

Left Winchester and mighty glad of it. English rations two meals a day be damned. A lot of them drilling in howitzers. Took a look at them. We could handle one better than they in a week. The American 3” is the hardest ever. Forgot to mention that on the boat we got all the news, baseball scores and all via wireless from New York. Then about the seventh day out we got war dope from the Eiffel Tower. Oh yes, when we hit Winchester we heard about the subs, getting some boats in NY harbor. Bet it gave the folks a scare. More corn willy and train to Southampton. As we marched to the dock we passed a big hospital. Some cheerful sight just before going over the channel.

Laid around watching arriving planes and talking to Australian soldiers. They say the English Tommy isn’t worth a rot. They’re yellow. The French and Americans do the fighting. Also give Germans credit for being wonders in the air. Told us to kill but not take Boche prisoners. Also to be careful about picking souvenirs. Handed us a lot of bull about first night in the trenches and a lot of stories how they were wounded etc. Some fellows from Alabama stole a 50 lb. key from Winchester and tried to pull down a statue, etc. As punishment they were put in front line trenches. However, they were full of pep and went over the top more often in one month than the English have since the war started. Captured a German on No Mans Land. Stripped him, gave him a kick and told him they would get him later when they finished playing cards. Can you imagine Fritz.

Well, we got in the side-wheeler La Marguerite at about 6pm. We and Australians (that is our battalion – the other stayed at Winchester) on boat and terribly crowded. If we got hit we wouldn’t have a chance. Wore life preservers again. Passed a lot of half sunk boats about six on way out of bay. Out past Portsmouth and fleet of chasers joined us. About five transports. Made lots of speed. Guess about 24 knots an hour. Soon got dark. Big dirigible passed in moonlight. Corn willy and hardtack. Got awfully damp. No chance to go below, far too crowded. After all I heard about rough water, the channel was smooth as glass.

Thursday, June 13, 1918

After no sleep, at about 4:30 am we stayed on boat till about 8:30am. Even from the water, the land of France took in a different aspect. Marched thru LeHavre to American Rest Camp called Point 1. All the kids held our hands and coats. People at all the windows, American flags and women throwing kisses, and wounded English soldiers (they wear blue denim uniforms). Mostly old men, women, and loads of children. Some classy dolls in nightgowns gave us a cheer. Mu-la-la. Latrines right on corner. Can see your feet under then, your head also. Those for women are the same. And some dolls on the street. Children all wear black jumpers and artist hats – chapeaus. German prisoner camp here too. Saw bunches of them. Big saw-boned fellows, big round patch in back of coats and legs. Could hear them talk – some were building a shed. Seemed funny to understand German. Have canteen where you can buy beer for 25 centimes. Bull stuff though! Quite a novelty though.

Slept in tents, 12 to a tent. Corn willy warmed us. First warm stuff in long time. Right in channel. See lots of aeroplanes. Were given instructions what to do if there was an air attack. And we haven’t gotten pistols yet! Wrote a letter home.

Friday, June 14, 1918

In the afternoon, marched through town again to the trains. Got three days rations, same stuff. Left about 8pm. Ate and tried to get comfortable. Slept sitting up. Can sleep on our heads now.

Photos of the Day: Mug Shots

2012-09-06T19:09:00.002-04:00

Going Overseas in WWI

2012-09-01T13:21:00.001-04:00

The Kashmir (1914-32) was one of a series of 9000 ton steamers built in 1913-1914 which survived the war, but were scrapped in Japan in 1931-1932. On Oct. 6, 1918, the Kashmir collided with the Ontranto, an armed mercantile cruiser, off the coast of Scotland. The Ontranto was sunk, and with a loss of 431 lives, 372 of whom were American soldiers on their way to France, it became the biggest convoy disaster during WWI. For more reading on Islay Shipwrecks, check out http://www.islayinfo.com/islay-shipwrecks.html.

Another oral story on World War I from my grandfather, Carl Oscar Ericke, accompanied this time with his personal diary and scrapbook entries. If you're interested in the ships that carried Americans to Europe, follow this link: WWI Ships Histories. Though I found this photo of the Kashmir (above) I'm not exactly sure it's the same ship, based on my grandfather's comments about it's small size. But could there be two boats named Kashmir in WWI? Grandpa writes in his scrapbook that it is an old Cunard freighter that was currently servicing Eastern India at the time. According to the P&O Heritage Ship Fact Sheet this Kashmir (above) was transferred to the North Atlantic in 1918 to transport troops. It must be the same ship!

The politicians from Chicago came to New York to see us off before we left for overseas. They were a terrible bore, spending most of their time telling how good they were. Well we listened through that and finally that was over and we went back to camp. The next day I believe it was we went to get on the boat and, it wasn’t much of a boat. I don’t know what you’d call it a fishing boat, or what, but it certainly wasn’t one of their better boats, as we found out when we returned home in first class.

Anyway, we stood it, and it was a rather an unsatisfactory trip because we had to sleep below deck in hammocks. These hammocks were all right except that the upper one used to sway quite a bit, and those fellows would become ill, and do their business and the fellow below would get the worst of it. Finally wound up with all of us sleeping on the deck. There were thirteen days I believe on the water and somehow or other managed to get to the other side and end our boat trip. Only things that were worth mentioning was that there was a lot of play from fellows that wanted to make fellas sick who hadn't become ill, they'd get a bucket and come by those fellas and try to get them to toss their cookies.

Sunday, May 26, 1918

We left Camp Merritt. Took the train to Jersey City. The whole regiment loaded on one ferry and we were taken to Brooklyn dock. We get off and relieved ourselves of our packs and sat down for a sandwich. The boat is big, much more so than any lake boat, but I heard so much of ocean liners that I was somewhat disappointed. About 10 a.m. we registered, went up the long gangplank into the good ship Kashmir. We were crowded 16 to a table one floor below deck. Just got comfortable when they decided to put us at the well deck. So we had to move again. Got our hammocks in place and soon we were all set. The crew was composed of Hindus. The boat was an old banana boat painted war gray. One funnel. The officers have great quarters. Went to sleep like regular Jackie’s.

Monday, May 27, 1918

Woke at call of English Tar yelling "Out of the Hammocks" at us. Were still in dock. Our meals were fair. We will get 2 a day. Lots of rumors. Got out of dock at about 9 a.m. Passed out of the harbor and joined the rest of our fleet at 10 a.m. We were off! A few songs and a last look at the Statue of Liberty. That was the God of the moment. Most every body on deck watching land disappears. Brooklyn Bridge, the Woolworth Building, all faded away. There are 13 boats in the fleet and one battle ship of cruiser type. About 10 sub chasers escorted us out. Kashmir has 3 sister ships, all of which are sunk. 13th trip is a transport of troops. 13 days since we left Logan on May 13th. Were issued life preservers. Orders to wear them at all times. The water is fairly smooth. No one sick yet. Glad they have a canteen aboard.

Tuesday, May 28, 1918

The old K.C. insists we wear blues. Oh how I hate ‘em. Slept pretty good. Boat rocked quite a bit today. Slept fine last night. Funny feeling when boat rocks or pitches, you feel like in an elevator. Could eat a lot more than we get. About 1/5 cup of coffee. Some of the fellows are sick. Eck has been all in since he got on the boat. I feel fine.

Wednesday, May 29, 1918

Have calisthenics on the boat now, can you imagine it? Still hungry. The old boat is doing her share of rocking now. It is also raining.

Thursday, May 30, 1918

Gee, last night was fierce. Regular storm came up. Thought they would make us stay below. Water all over deck. First you see water, then sky, just like Dad said it was. Stayed up most of the night. No smoking is allowed after 8 p.m. It is rocking all day too. Came mighty near getting sick. God it’s awful. Some sights and smells below deck. Will sleep on deck tonight. They let us in the starboard hurricane deck now as we were too crowded. Slept on deck with Johnny.

Friday, May 31, 1918

There sure is a lot of water in this world. It’s pretty cold and rainy today. Boat has been pitching quite hard though water is getting calmer. Will sleep below tonight. Read a book of Mark Twain.

Saturday, June 1, 1918

Funny experience last night. A little after midnight the boat reversed its engines and blew it’s horn three times. As we had been having boat drill since the first day out and the signal was six blasts of the foghorn we were somewhat excited. We were nearly thrown from our hammocks. Found out this morning from the gunner on our boat that a submarine had shot a torpedo at the nurse boat that was alongside ours and in breaking their course our two boats nearly collided. Very little was said about it though we thought a lot. Fell in for muster today too.

Sunday, June 2, 1918

Forgot to say that yesterday the fleet lined up in battle order, which is V-shaped. The cruiser went ahead and dropped floats that looked like a periscope. The gunners on the various boats then shot at them as they came in sight. We have the best gunners on our boat. In the afternoon we saw smoke in the distance, then a funnel, and finally a boat. Our cruiser started out after it crossed its path and later joined us again.

Monday, June 3, 1918

We put on a submarine guard today as we are now in the war zone. Every so many feet stood a guard with a rifle to watch for submarines. Slept on deck. The card games, craps, and songs go on just the same. Had to take baths in the open.

Tuesday, June 4, 1918

Went on guard today. Got a good look at the brig. Some hole. Smell is fierce due to the Hindu kitchen above. Was pretty cold and foggy.

Wednesday, June 5, 1918

One of the Hindus died of pneumonia. He was buried off the back of the boat in a white canvas. Much ceremony with it. They say the night of the storm one of them got knocked off too when a crane broke loose. Slept on deck. Our cruiser turned back.

Thursday, June 6, 1918

Picked up our convoy. Woke up to find ourselves surrounded with little submarine chasers. At 10pm we sighted land in the form of a lighthouse on our left. It is the coast of Scotland.

Friday, June 7, 1918

Land! Oh, what a glorious sight. And on both sides. Ireland on one side, Scotland and England on the other. More of the mosquito fleets a couple of airplanes and two big dirigibles. One came real close. Through the North Channel and the Irish Sea, saw the Isle of Mann. Liverpool is where we hit. Some harbor! Houses all red tile tops. Can see funny little 2-story street cars. Went into dock. Funny English policeman in sight. Had to stay on boat for the night. Thank goodness we may get some real food.

Well anyway, be that as we may, we finally got there. Nothing but water, water, water. No sights that I can recall that are worth mentioning. The matter of a diary, I did make a diary and started it when the trip started. So a lot of this stuff is probably recorded in that.

While on the subject of a diary, I must say that Nancy has been after me to give it to her and since we've been very close the last couple years I do want her to have it. The reason for all that isn't that I think any less of Bill, but I have depended almost entirely on Nancy. Every time she and her husband moved, I moved too to get an apartment someplace nearby where they were living. It gave me a little feeling of safety to be close to her. Since then, I've seen her very often and they have had me at their home many times and I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't had her, especially for those moments when I get a little lonesome. I feel a little foolish saying all this because I don't even know if it's recording properly. But I'm hoping it will. The matter of the book isn't very vital but since I did tell her she could have it, I wanted to carry out my promise.

It was interesting when we got over there because we passed Ireland, and Wales, and finally landed at Liverpool. I don't know if I mentioned it or not but when we got there, we were again welcomed by the same politicians that said goodbye to us! I wonder how they got over there. First class no doubt.

Happy Birthday, Grampa Ambrose!

2012-08-26T17:34:00.001-04:00

Edwin Ambrose, was born on August 26, 1899, in Horten, Norway.

122nd Field Artillery Training at Camp Logan

2012-08-19T15:52:00.003-04:00

122nd Field Artillery soldiers standing outside the Mattes Club at Camp Logan.
©DN-0069642, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

The following excerpt is courtesy of the States Publications Society, Illinois in the World War. All the photos (except for above) are from Carl O. Ericke's WWI scrapbook.

On August 16 Battery A, under command of Captain Joseph W. Mattes, entrained for Houston to prepare a section of Camp Logan, where the regiment was to receive its training as part of the Thirty-third Division, under command of Major General George Bell, Jr. Only seven days later Captain Mattes was shot and killed in an effort to disarm negro soldier rioters in the city of Houston, where he had been sent to quell the disturbance. On September 21 the regiment was officially designated the 122nd Field Artillery and assigned to the Fifty-eight Field Artillery Brigade.

The eagerly awaited order for overseas service came in May, 1918. The regiment then had attained a high degree of efficiency. Many of the vacancies in the ranks of the offices, created when selections were made from the regiment to complete other organizations, were filled by promotion from the ranks. When the regiment entrained for the seaboard the latter part of May, the commissioned personnel was made up entirely of men who had held commissions in the unit in its national guard days or who had risen from the rank.

Next stop, Europe!

Reflections on Tiny Tim

2012-08-14T18:19:00.001-04:00

Noted in the back of the 1966 Willy Wispe log was this exchange between my father and my brother Bob, aged 11.

Ed: I bet he's never had a girlfriend.

Bob: He's his own girlfriend.

Willy Wispe: Children's Log #3, 1967

2012-08-06T12:06:00.001-04:00

The final Willy Wispe children's log was for the Summer of 1967 where we, again, sailed the East Coast, competing in Corinthian Yacht Club crusing races. Participation in writing in the log quickly declined, and soon the content on the day's entries started to conflict each other – obviously the writing was done later. I haven't found any more logs, though we sailed the Great Lakes for four years and it would be nice to find something from those trips through Canada. I suppose this 1967 log was my mother's final attempt at getting us to journal.

August 12, 1967
Darien to Stonington (by car)
Departed: 12:20 PM Arrived: 3:00 PM
Unpacked. Everybody O.K.
What I liked best/least–Bobby: Fishing was the best
What I liked best/least–Billy: I had a hot beef sandwich for the first time at Howard Johnsons
What I liked best/least–Sarah: At night caught a seasnail

August 13, 1967
Stonington to Block Island
Departed: 11:45 AM Arrived: 3:30 PM
Bob and Sarah felt sick. Not as scary as last year, tho.
What I liked best/least–Billy: I hated the big waves
What I liked best/least–Sarah: We had big roller's and I got sick

August 14, 1967
Block Island to Cuttyhunk
Departed: 10:15 AM Arrived: 6:00 PM
Bob had a bad day – sick and the sun got to him, too. Otherwise a pleasant trip, if long. We came in 1st in our class (using spinnaker, pole). Got off 1st, round mark 1st.
What I liked best/least–Billy: I liked it when we got to Cuttyhunk
What I liked best/least–Sarah: It was sunny and the waves were gaint

August 15, 1967
Cuttyhunk to Menemsha
Departed: 10:00 AM Arrived: 4:13:19 PM Menemsha, 5:30 Menemsha Pond
Sailed dinghy to beach and walked short way. Billy had earache. Came in sixth.
What I liked best/least–Billy: I didn't like it when I got poison oak
What I liked best/least–Sarah: We came in 6 in the cruising class. We saw the Shaws

August 16, 1967
Menemsha to Edgartown
Departed: 9:00 AM Arrived: 4:00 PM
Most beautiful foggy morning leaving the pond – blind leading the blind. Came in third. Saw the Shaws.
What I liked best/least–Billy: I liked it when we ate dinner at the seafood shanty
What I liked best/least–Sarah: The family got sunburn. Bobby's lips got sunburn and started to bleed

August 17, 1967
Edgartown to Wood's Hole
Departed: 9:00 AM Arrived: 1:00 PM
Made phone calls. Had sodas and got comic books. We won two "prizes" at the cocktail party, a toaster for Monday and a rose for today.
What I liked best/least–Bobby: Sailed dinghy
What I liked best/least–Billy: I liked it when we won two prizes
What I liked best/least–Sarah: Woodshole Oceanograbhic Institute tour

August 18, 1967
Wood's Hole to Marion
Departed: 9:00 AM Arrived: 2:00 PM
We went swimming. Mommy and Billy had poison oak from Menemsha. Went to cocktail party & dinner – all of us. Came in second place overall for Cruising Class this week.
What I liked best/least–Billy: I liked it when we each got an ice cream cone
What I liked best/least–Sarah: We won two prizes at the cocktail party

August 19, 1967
Stayed at Marion.
Departed: 12:20 PM Arrived: 3:00 PM
Slept late. Got groceries and ice. Bought ice cream cones. Dinner on boat. Swam.

August 20, 1967
Marion to Falmouth
Departed: 9:15 AM Arrived: 1:15 PM
Sailed and motored when wind and fog increased. Spent afternoon at laundry! Kids got showers and comic books at a dock.
What I liked best/least–Billy: I liked it when we got comics

August 21, 1967
Falmouth to Edgartown
Departed: 1:00 PM Arrived: 5:00 PM
When we got to Vinyard Haven the fog cleared and we sailed to Edgartown.
What I liked best/least–Billy: I liked having hamburger

August 22, 1967
Stayed at Edgartown
Walked around Edgartown.
What I liked best/least–Billy: We caught about 10 fish

August 23, 1967
Stayed at Edgartown
Rented car. Stopped at Katama Bay, Oak Bluffs, Vineyard Haven, Menemsha, Gay Head & Light.
What I liked best/least–Billy: We caught more fish and rented a car

August 24, 1967
Edgartown to Quisset Hole
Departed: 3:30 PM Arrived: 7:00 PM
What I liked best/least–Billy: I liked the calm harbor

The End.

Willy Wispe: Children's Log #2, 1966

2012-08-01T20:12:00.000-04:00

I'll never forget this particular summer vacation – or at least one specific moment of this trip on the ocean. I may have already mentioned that my mother feared the water. I didn't know this when I was little, and only found out when my parents moved to Martha's Vineyard, my dad bought yet another sailboat, and she refused to go out with him. My mother loved her garden and the solid earth she found underfoot. She was terrified when she was out on the water, and once said that it was all she could do to stay calm when walking on a dock with water on both sides. Who knew? (Probably my father.)

So, imagine being on a sailboat with a rather inexperienced sailor (my father learned how to sail when he was 35 – on this boat!), with three young children, and you're the only other adult who helps with the sheets, sails, and tiller, docking and un-docking, does all the cooking and cleaning (including vomit), and, oh yeah, keeps her kids from falling overboard – all the while hating the water.

My grandparents were with us on this trip – my father's Norwegian parents. I don't think my grandparent's were with us this whole trip, but I'm guessing they were with us on August 12 and 13. Weather was always the biggest consideration when deciding to set out to sea each day, yet my father would often leave port on a crappy looking day – eternally the optimist – telling us "if it's bad, we'll head back." I think sometimes he thought it might be better out in the open ocean than it was in port, with the boat slamming up against the dock.

All I can remember from those days in August is the waves – the big rollers that were so high that when you were at the bottom of the wave you saw no sky, just water on all sides. They were easily six to eight foot high rollers. I clearly recall my dad trying his best to keep the boat in control while our family sat in the cockpit, too nervous to talk.

My grandparents were sitting across from me, and my mother next to me, her arm extended over my body, as mothers do when they brake suddenly in a car. The terrified look on my grandmother's face caused me to explode in uncontrollable laughter. I couldn't stop, and the more my grandmother told me to shut up or gasped in Norwegian, as she was known to do, made me laugh even harder.

Looking back, I'm sure it was a nervous laughter, but maybe a little bit of me was trying to show my grandparents that it wasn't as bad as they thought; dad really did have it under control. Who knows. It was frightening at that moment, for sure, but it still makes me laugh to think about it.

The only other time I remember my grandparents joining us on Willy Wispe was years later on Lake Michigan or Huron. My mother was trying to help my grandmother out of the dinghy and onto the boat when she inadvertently pulled my grandmother's arm out of her socket. Nice one, mom!

This more formatted log of 1966-67 is an effort my mother made to make it easier for us to comment in the log. I love how it starts out so complete, and tidy, with excellent handwriting.

Trip with Grandma and Grandpa Ambrose

August 8, 1966
New Bedford to Wood's Hole
Departed: 9:30 AM Arrived: 12:00 noon
Every thing fine. Made a good speed crossing Buzzard's Bay. Everybody had something to do, either on deck or down below.
What I liked best–Bobby: The voyage across Buzzard's Bay and rowing
What I liked best–Billy: Rowing the dinghy and fishing
What I liked best–Sarah: When I was being rowwed around by Billy and Bobby

August 9, 1966
Wood's Hole to Martha's Vineyard
Departed: 11:00 AM Arrived: 1:15 PM
Had a late start. Sailed to Martha's Vineyard. Moured, then rowed to a dock and explrored town.
What I liked best–Bobby: The sail to Martha's Vineyard
What I liked best–Billy: Rowing the dinghy and sailings
What I liked best–Sarah: I liked walking back from the beach

August 10, 1966
Stayed in Vineyard Haven.
Bad day for sailing but good day to fish. Grampa caught two Sand Sharks, a six other fish were caught by the others.
What I liked best–Bobby: Fishing and rowing
What I liked best–Billy: Rowing around and fishing
What I liked best–Sarah: Fishing - sand sharks

August 11, 1966
Vineyard Haven to Menemsha
Departed: 9:00 AM Arrived: 12:15 PM
Heavey fog. Motered to Menemsha, a small fishing village.
What I liked best–Bobby: Motoring to Menemsha
What I liked best–Billy: I liked when I was fishing and when the big waves came
What I liked best–Sarah: The Ferry came and made big waves

August 12, 1966
Menemsha to Quick's Hole
Departed: 11:00 AM Arrived: 1:00 PM
Had a late start. Big rollers and dripping alchohal made Billy sick.
What I liked best–Bobby: Arriving at Quick's Hole
What I liked best–Billy: Arriving at Quick's Hole
What I liked best–Sarah: The first time the sun came out

August 13, 1966
Quick's Hole to Sakonnet
Departed: 11:00 AM Arrived: 7:00 PM
Rough day, every body dead tired.
What I liked best–Bobby: Arriving at Sakonet
What I liked best–Billy: Arriving at Cuteunk
What I liked best–Sarah: I liked heeling over

August 14, 1966
Sakonnet to Bristol
Went up Narragansett Bay – beautiful all the way.
What I liked best–Bobby: The voyage to Bristol
What I liked best–Billy: The voyage down the river
What I liked best–Sarah: I liked when the cards fell on the floor

August 15, 1966
Stayed in Bristol visiting Shaws
What I liked best–Bobby: Getting a shower
What I liked best–Sarah: I liked seeing Marilyn (Shaw)

August 16, 1966
Bristol to Dutch Island Harbor
Rain & Fog
What I liked best–Bobby: Getting into Dutch Island Harbor
What I liked best–Sarah: Billy caught a sand shark

August 17, 1966
Dutch Island Harbor to Block Island
Good trip.
What I liked best–Bobby: Catching fish
What I liked best–Sarah: We caught some crabs and flounders

August 18, 1966
Block Island to Hamburg Cove
What I liked best–Bobby: Swimming
What I liked best–Sarah: I like swimming

August 19, 1966
Hamburg Cove to Branford
All got food poisoning.

August 20, 1966

Branford to Stamford to Home
Ed and Bob do it alone, motor and sail
What I liked best–Sarah: Bobby and Daddy sailed and motored home by themselves

Willy Wispe was moored at the Stamford Yacht Club on Shippan Point when we lived in Connecticut. The Stamford History Society has a great website, and that's where I found this photo.

August 20, PM, 1966

What I liked best–Sarah: Geting home

Vineyard Haven on Dwellable

Willy Wispe: Children's Log #1, 1965

2012-07-28T22:52:00.001-04:00

When I was younger, my family shared a sailboat with another family – an Alberg 35 by Pearson, called Willy Wispe. Through a web search, I recently discovered that Willy Wispe is still sea-worthy, still owned by the same family, and currently moored on Cayuga Lake, New York. It's been painted a much more beautiful color since the 1970's! It's very comforting to know it's still on the water, and from a distance looks in very good shape.

When we lived in Connecticut we would sail around New England during the summer. When we moved to Ohio, conveniently, the co-owners of the boat moved to Michigan, so we were able to share the boat for another four years.We would spend our summer vacations sailing on Lake Huron and Superior, in the Georgian Bay and the North Channel in Canada.

When we moved back to Connecticut my dad sold our interest in Willy Wispe and invested in day sailers and racing boats rather than a cruiser. Since we were teenagers by then, it was a good decision by my father, as it would've have been very tight quarters with five "adults" on board!

During the "Willy Wispe" years, every August we would spend two to three weeks sailing and traveling from port to port. It was cramped, with some challenges, but we always had an adventure – or two. My dad was a proud member of the Corinthians, the New York Yacht Club, and the Noroton Yacht Club, and as you will see in the Log, some of our vacations were actually spent racing as a family.

Coincidentally, one of our neighbors and a good friend of my parents was Bill Shaw, one of Pearson's most successful boat designers. There's a great article by Steve Mitchell from the GoodOldBoat.com on the history of Pearson Yachts, if you're interested, just click on the hyperlink. He's not the Bill of "Bill & Lue Allen", listed below; they were my de facto aunt and uncle, my parent's friends from University of Michigan, whom we spent many a summer, with their family, on Drummond Island.

My dad would write in the ship's Captain's Log every day. My mother, with her lifelong love of spiral steno pads, created a Children's Log for us to share our thoughts – a futile effort. I found three years of logs, all on the East Coast, and I'll post them here. Each one starts with kid's handwriting but soon thereafter, it's my mother putting in all the notes. And for a little more perspective, in 1965, the three of us ranged in age from 6-10.

Trip with Bill and Lue Allen

August 10, 1965
We drove from Darien to Watch Hill, Rhode Island. While getting ready for bed we noticed the lights getting dimmer and dimmer and found our batteries were dead.

August 11, 1965
We sailed from Watch Hill to Block Island. Later on in the day we went to a cocktail party. It was on the shore. We stayed at the party for about an hour. Billy and Bobby went back to the boat to get our name tags. Billy brought them back and Bobby stayed on the boat. As soon as Billy came back with the name tags, we were going back to the boat. Sarah said that she was going to row Mrs. Ambrose and Mrs. Allen. She was going as slow as a turtle. We did not get back to the boat rowing. My father was operating the launch because the boy wasn't there.

We gave my father the painter of the dingy. He pulled us all the way to the boat.

August 12, 1965
We came from Block Island to Brenton Harbor new Newport. We came in third in the race. We lost our spinnaker just before we went over the finish line.

August 13, 1965
We went from Brenton Harbor to Bristol. Clambake. Saw Beth and Cathy Shaw.

From hereon, it's my mother's writing, and the information much more detailed and relevant to grown-ups.

August 14, 1965
Went into Bristol – walked to stores and met bus on street. Saw Herreshoff Museum. Back to boat. Did not sail in crew race because of rain and wind. Went directly to Potter's Cover. Made kites. Rowed and sailed dinghy.

August 15, 1965
Raced from Potter's Cove to Dutch Island Harbor. Went ashore after dinner and walked. Stopped at bowling alley where mommy washed. Walked all the way to Manny's Tavern, near Jamestown's Ferry Dock. Draft beer and shuffleboard. Ice cream cones after hours. Saw old fire engine. House for an animal next to tree with toys tied in it. Hard rowing going home.

August 16, 1965
Raced Dutch Island to Jamestown. Wind-up dinner. Chicken, rice, crabmeat salad, etc.

August 17, 1965
Cruised to Newport. Did laundry, shopped, left about 12:30 pm and went into increasingly dense fog. Turned back and spent night at Newport shipyard. At (after 1-1/2 hour wait) at "Christies."

August 18, 1965
Sailed from Newport to Cuttyhunk. Went ashore, shopped. Had a picnic on the beach with 2 fires. Boys collected firewood. Had steak, potatoes, tomatoes, and of course, wine. Sarah and mommy collected bay leaves and bay berries.

Artist's conception of the fort built by Bartholomew Gosnold's expedition on Elizabeth Islet, Cuttyhunk Is., Mass., in May/June 1602. The first English habitation in New England. Illustration in Robert Maitland Brereton, Reminiscences of an Old English Civil Engineer 1858-1908, pub. Irwin-Hodson Portland, Oregon 1908.

August 19, 1965
Cuttyhunk, long day's motor and sail to Nantucket. Had dinner and went to bed. Saw swordfish just caught.

August 20, 1965
Rented car and drove all over Nantucket, stopping here and there. Cool day. Had clam chowder dinner, shopped and shopped.

August 21, 1965
Allens left – we drove them to airport and then went to Surfside for a swim in the breakers. Had dinner out. Shopped again.

August 22, 1965
Sailed and motored from Nantucket to Falmouth. Played poker and went to bed.

August 23, 1965
Cleaned boat.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

2012-07-22T10:54:00.001-04:00

My father, Edwin Roy Ambrose, would have been 83 years old on July 23, 2012.

Happy birthday, dad!

Photo of the Day: Dragon Lady

2012-07-18T22:07:00.002-04:00

Earlier I wrote about my grandmother, Sarah Louise Voegtly Ericke, having played the Queen in Goucher College's production of "The Dragon." As with the story about Camp Logan, if I wait to sort through all the family archives, scan and organize everything, and then write about it... well, I'd need a few more years at best. Let's consider this blog the draft version of the book I will never write. (And I promise that in the book everything will all be in order!) Here's an actual photo from the play, which I just happened to find in Goucher's 1922 yearbook, the Donnybrook Fair, while searching for something totally unrelated. My grandmother is the woman in the dark gown, looking indifferent to the woman who's on her knees, pleading with her. Check out that dragon!

Quote of the Day: Sarah, Age 6

2012-07-16T18:58:00.001-04:00

"If I'd known we were going bowling I'd have changed my clothes."

Second Illinois Field Artillery, Summer 1917

2012-07-13T20:19:00.001-04:00

Sorry I haven't posted in a long while. I've been on vacation and busy with other summer activities, not to mention a very hectic work schedule. Part of my vacation has been spent researching more family history, along with the dreaded scanning, so my plan is to make up for time lost by posting a couple times a week. Here's another look at my grandfather's life pre-WWI. I read the last of his war journal today, and he commented on how his return to the States coincided with his 25th birthday. That seems hard to even imagine. But boy, what a handsome soldier!

Ninety-five years ago, my grandfather, Carl O. Ericke transitioned from being in the National Guard to the U.S. Army, and from the Cavalry to Artillery. In July, 1917, he was transferred to the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery, which set up camp in downtown Chicago. It was here that his training began for World War I. I've compiled pages from his scrapbook and photos from the Chicago History Museum.

Elevated view of the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery camp at East Chicago Avenue and Lake Michigan in the Near North Side community area of Chicago, Illinois. This image shows unfinished long buildings in the foreground and brick buildings and smokestacks in the background. © DN-0068559, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

Joseph W. Mattes, Captain, 2nd Illinois Field Artillery, Company A. He was later killed in the Houston Riots, just a month after this photo was taken. © DN-0068448, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

Milton Foreman, Colonel of the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery, standing with an unidentified officer. © DN-0068463, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

The first call of duty for the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery was strike duty in Bloomington, Illinois, during a strike by the workers from the Bloomington and Normal Electric Power and Railway company.

Soldiers from the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery sitting behind machine guns on the lawn of the court house in Bloomington, Illinois. © DN-0068407, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

As you can see from a few of these photos from his scrapbook, Carl's training was not all work and no play! In the photo on the top left of this page, my grandfather is the man standing in the middle, the blond. In the bottom photo, he's the second one from the left.

Group portrait of soldiers from the 2nd Illinois Artillery, Company A, waving their hats and posing for a photograph as they prepare to leave their camp at East Chicago Avenue and Lake Michigan for Camp Logan. My grandfather is the face to the right of the hat showing it's full insides (looks like a big black hole). Picture published August 16, 1917. © DN-0068564, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

My grandfather didn't start his journal until he was scheduled to leave for Europe in May, 1918, so next posts about him will be mostly images from his scrapbook. My earlier post on Camp Logan actually happened after this installment. I'll try to coordinate the timing of the oral stories, the scapbook, and the journal a little better going forward!

On the Way to Camp Logan

2012-06-14T19:48:00.003-04:00

Now that the Life in Botswana series is over, I am going to focus more of my posts on my maternal grandfather, Carl O. Ericke, and his life during the first World War. He recorded a few stories for my brother in his later years, so some of these stories are in his words. He also kept a diary, which I will transcribe for you... soon. My grandfather also put together a very beautiful scrapbook which I will post in articles and in it's entirety. I hope my cousins, who have never seen these images, will appreciate them here as much as I do. They are quite amazing.

War was declared and I wanted to enlist. My boss suggested I list in the National Guard that way he could replace me before I went overseas. So naturally, I agreed to this and I joined the First Cavalry in Illinois, National Guard. It didn’t work out the way I planned but it was interesting so I thought I would tell you a little about that.

Outstanding thing I have in my memory is the fact that I joined the cavalry because I liked horses. We went out for drill practice and it was very interesting. I remember we used to have parades and we did our stuff on Michigan Ave. My mother said she’d be in a certain hotel and would look for me. I was on horseback with my saber, parading along Michigan Ave. The captain said to present arms and we all drew our swords and held them at attention. It must’ve looked pretty good with all the swords flashing in the sun.

The thing I’ll never forget is when I got to the hotel where my mother was, watching for me. I had a sudden instinct to take a chance on getting into trouble, so I pulled in the reins on the horse and gave him my heels, which made him stand up on his rear legs. I then presented the sword by putting the heel of the sword on my chin, looking toward the hotel where my mother would be. That was something I’ll never forget and she didn’t either. I didn’t get put in jail or anything for doing that. Just a little incident I thought I would tell you.

A short time after this they sent us to Houston, Texas, for training our outfit because they didn’t need cavalry. It was the 122nd field artillery and they sent us here to learn about the French 75 guns. It was quite a thing and exciting. They put us on trains and, Colonel Foreman, who was quite a politician in Chicago, fixed it so his boys got to sleep in cars with upper and lower berths; so we went first class all the way down to Houston.

When we got there I remember looking out the window and seeing a fellow on guard walking up and down and smacking his hand on his cheek every once in awhile. I figured there were a lot of bugs around that place and it wasn’t a very welcome sight. But we got off finally and rode out to this place that we were to train. It was quite a little difference from the cavalry!

We did a lot of walking and we had a few experiences down there. From then on, I walked instead of riding on a horse. And I walked and walked all the way over Texas, and later on in France.

They made us the first occupants of the camp down in Houston, for training. As a corporal I was made into a gunner. And that’s no small job when you think of all the training we went through. As a matter of fact, we had to learn how to dismantle the breech of the gun and put it back together again in the dark. That meant a lot of training and practice but we managed to cope with that. Finally we got settled down in camp and time began to drag a little bit.

However it didn’t take long before there was some excitement in Houston! Rumors circulated that when soldiers were turning in their ammunition they would keep some it and then bury it under their tents. So sure enough, it wasn’t surprising when there was a fair in town and one of the soldiers shot a policeman. They immediately put in a martial law, and my unit was called in to take over for the rest of the camp.

We’d hardly been there for very long and we had to stop what might have been a mighty serious thing. Anyway, they called us together and issued each fellow one bullet for each .45 gun. And with one bullet we had to go into town and stop this trouble. We were all excited, and might say, somewhat afraid, as we drove in on trucks. We were the only outfit down there with our one battery. We stopped along the road and we all got out and they had us go through a field of grain, searching for all these soldiers who stampeded away from the fair.

There's a very interesting article, on the Texas State Historical Association website, if you're interested in reading the full history of the Houston Riot of 1917.

House Histories: Warwick Road, Detroit

2012-06-04T21:18:00.002-04:00

A few weeks ago, I received an email from a man named Hubert, whose family has lived in my grandparent's house in Detroit since 1985. He found me by reading my earlier post, A Rosedale Park Christmas, where I talked a little bit about North Rosedale Park and this house, which my grandfather sold after my grandmother died.

I've collected many photos of homes that my extended family has lived in over the last century, most of which have are not identified. I think many have been torn down, especially those that were located in the now-downtown area of Pittsburgh. I will be sharing these photos and stories randomly over the next few months.

I promised Hubert I would post more about his childhood home – and my mother's! – on Warwick. I found this real estate listing from the late 1960's when my grandfather sold the house. Don't you love the punch-out system and the listing number placed on the front lawn? (click to enlarge photos)

Photo of the Day: Alfrida Stangeland

2012-05-29T08:59:00.002-04:00

May is a busy birthday month for my family. Besides my two brothers, my maternal grandfather was born in May, as were both his parents, Charles Ericke and Emma Winterberg. And tomorrow, it is my paternal grandmother's birthday. Alfrida Stangeland was born on May 30, 1908 in Hetland, Norway. Her parents were Peder Stangeland and Kristine Hatleskog.

How It All Began...

2012-05-16T18:26:00.002-04:00

The Nineteenth Hole

2012-05-05T13:08:00.002-04:00

I have never known my mother to play golf. She understood golf, and would sometimes watch it on tv if it was pouring rain outside...and couldn't be in the garden...and my father had already turned it on. But I never knew she actually played the game. But by the way Nancy's clutching the cart, she probably enjoyed golf as much as she did sailing.

Isn't it weird how children only know their parents when they are older and often find it hard to picture them doing anything other than what they've personally witnessed them doing in their later years? Will I next find a photo of my younger mother skydiving, chasing tornadoes, or taming wild animals?

It also appears she's pregnant in this photo, and based on the timing, it's probably me in that little belly of hers, in the summer of 1958.

Life in Botswana: Time to Leave

2012-04-29T14:28:00.001-04:00

The final installment of my parent's memoirs: Life in Botswana

As we prepare to leave Botswana we thought it fitting to sum up our experiences. Ed's work has continued well, and he is pleased that the advice and assistance he has provided has contributed to the development of TIPA's staff, which now is clearly stronger and more capable than before.

Other work high points have been:

The creation and production by Bob Pearlman of Darien, a consultant, with Ed’s assistance, of a promotional brochure which won an award from the Advertising Council of New York. This effort took almost two years from writing terms of reference for the consultancy to clearing customs at the Gaborone Airport for the 20,000 copies (of 70,000) which were air freighted from Mt. Vernon, NY.
Participation on the committee which drafted a new Tourism Policy Act and an Industrial Policy Act.
Contributing to Botswana's seventh National Development Plan, which has just begun.
Coordinating the approval, selection and funding process for a new publicity and investment promotion program for Botswana in the U.S.

Both our social life and our activities have been limited by our trips and our preparations for them. Having all three children here this year was a tremendous treat and made up a bit for not getting home this year. We really feel we got to know our grandchildren even in such a short time because we were together constantly. The drawback is that we now know what we've been missing!

The amount of time and effort required of the position of commodore of the yacht club surprised Ed. Meetings, problems and activities took much time. A major happening was that because of no rain the water level of the dam dropped so low that our ferryboat was stuck in the mud. For a period of six weeks no one could get to our island. Then, as the water level kept dropping, the old road slowly reappeared and intrepid sailors first waded, then managed to get to their boats with 4-wheel vehicles (with many getting stuck). Eventually the road was high and dry, and we were able to drive to the club at all times, evenings too. This carried on for six months, then the floods came and in one 36-hour period the water rose two meters! Some boats floated away and had to be rescued. We were an island once again.

Ed organized the Guy Fawkes party and the Rugby Club/Yacht Club Raft Race. Both were well attended and lots of fun. Father Santa showed up by boat at our Christmas party at the clubhouse on the island and delivered gifts to all the kids. Santa gave Ed a small compass and a chart to help us find our way home the next time our car breaks down.

Nancy's time is still spent much the same way as before: shopping, paying bills, banking (mostly un-banking), reading, gardening and painting. More goods are now imported into Botswana so our food situation has improved. The down side is that we have to spend more time searching and standing in line to get them. The population of Gaborone is mushrooming, lines are longer everywhere. Automobile traffic has to be seen to be believed; most roads are one lane, even in the center of town, and though improvements are being made they can't keep up with the growth. Gaborone looks like one huge construction site.

Gardening continues to take much of Nancy's time and for most of the past year the yard has looked full of bloom. Unable to discard any living thing, Nancy planted outside our fence and the blossoms in spring and early summer this year brought many compliments from friends and passersby. We were surprised at the number of Batswana who stopped to admire.

In April of 1991 we lost our 24-hour guard service for a less expensive electronic alarm system. We appreciate the increased privacy (we never completely adjusted to having someone circle the house every half hour) but Nancy lost her gardening assistant. Ernest, the day guard, was paid extra to keep the garden watered and to rake and burn (yes!) the brush and clippings. He never assisted in the garden itself; in fact, Nancy often was mourning over his inadvertent destruction of a loved plant since Ernest was not what you would call light on his feet. The loss of Ernest plus our frequent travels have wreaked havoc on the yard.

Watering is essential here, almost every day, because of the sandy soil, heat, and lack of rain. To top it all the drought appears to have returned. A full year has passed with virtually no rain. Crops and animals have died (prices are going higher daily) and no one can predict an end to it. From mid-December until the first of March the temperature on our shady porch was over 95º and many days were hotter than that. We are still allowed to water because water evaporates so fast from the dam that it is better used to keep vegetation alive. Sadly, many of our plants died while we were away but the trees and bushes that Nancy planted will remain when we leave so all is not lost.

Nancy is still taking painting lessons at least once a week and has recently completed a three day painting workshop. In addition she took a six session course in drawing. She still finds painting fun but challenging. The companionship of her fellow students and teacher plays a large part in the enjoyment and forms a solid support group. These new friends are very dissimilar, varying widely in nationality, age and background as well as talent and previous painting experience. The group has produced two exhibitions in the past year, elegant afternoon affairs complete with wine, fruit, cheese and a chamber music group and held at one of the American Embassy residences. Nancy sold several paintings at each of these which has helped defray a small portion of her investment.

The Gulf War ironically brought an improvement in our lives - CNN. We now are able to see the news twice each day for varying amounts of time. We find the views of the U.S., and the news, give us a feeling of keeping in touch with home. We can't imagine what the Batswana and, we suppose, peoples of many other foreign countries, find of interest in 90% of what is shown but we are grateful for it. Another welcome source of information is the International Herald Tribune which Ed brings home from the office each day.

Much of our past two years has been spent saying goodbye to the people we had gotten to know well. Most contracts are for two years and when you extend you don't realize how different your lives will all be when old friends leave and you must begin making new friends. The expatriate group has shrunk, partly because Botswana is in good financial shape (at least for Africa) and partly because aid from international donors is now being directed to new areas such as eastern Europe and the former USSR. We have hosted and attended a great many farewell parties.

Among the entertainment highlights in Gaborone this year were two terrific concerts, Paul Simon and Hugh Masekela. Big Doings in a small town like Gaborone! Simon's Born at the Right Time concert was the next-to-last one of his two year tour. It was held in a small exhibition hall with the same light and sound systems he used in New York. We were seated dead center in the fourth row, about 20 feet from him, and by the end of the 3+ hours we felt we were personal friends. Hugh Masekela held his concert outdoors behind our new Sheraton Hotel. The crowd was small because of a lack of publicity but we enjoyed seeing him - he is very famous here, having lived in Botswana for eight years as an exile from South Africa.

We have been fortunate to have met several times in the past years Derek and Beverly Joubert, who have made several films for National Geographic: The Stolen River, The Forgotten River, and their latest, Eternal Enemies. If you haven't seen them please watch them the next chance you get. They are beautiful and very informative, and they are filmed entirely in Botswana.

We feel very lucky to have had such wonderful experiences but look forward eagerly to coming home. We expect to be in Connecticut and Boston the last week in July.

My parents landed at Logan Airport the day my nephew, Whitney, was born, on July 17, 1992. I was lucky to be the one to tell them they had a new grandchild! It was a memorable day for all of us.

It was the end of a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, and the beginning of a life.