For those who wonder what I do for income, I have worked as an editorial assistant for the AMS for the last 5 years, a job that is part-time and which can be done conveniently from home (or anywhere) at any time that works best for me. It's been a pretty ideal thing for me.
But changes have been happening at AMS and they are upgrading their editorial management software, and so they have brought a number of us to Boston to learn the new system. So this morning I walked from my hotel across Boston Commons, a wonderful park that is several blocks square, to Beacon Street to find that the AMS is located in what is actually a historic landmark carriage house. Oh my. During every break from our training I was wandering from room to room looking at that historic memorabilia - the place is full of historic things having to do with weather! Then there is the library room! The AMS has been publishing scientific journals since around 1900 (I think) and their library is full of those publications as well all kinds of very old books on weather, organized state by state. I just randomly picked Michigan and was pulled into reading about the climate recordings there in 1895. Gadzooks. I don't think these poor people realize I would much rather be reading their historical weather accounts than learning which button on the computer I'm supposed to be pushing next!
In any case, I like this work not just for the personal convenience but also because of the people - they are genuine and caring and there is a sense of everybody's awareness of and appreciation for working together. I think some degree of kindness goes a long way in creating anything of quality in this world.
Enough philosophy for one day - more tomorrow!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
A Day in New Jersey
I was sad to leave State College so soon, but I was still glad for being there. It reminds me of Boulder in many ways, just greener and more humid (though not quite as humid as I was expecting!). And seeing cousin again felt good to me.
The bus back to PHL was an Express, meaning it was not stopping in all the smaller towns, but then I learned why it takes the same amount of time. It took just over an hour to travel the last 14 miles into the city as the freeway becomes a parking lot. I just had to adjust my 'hurry up let's get there' attitude and let the bus driver deal with the traffic. Ahhh, not so bad then. Once in the city I was off to the airport to pick up my rental car so that I could then join the Friday afternoon traffic! Still in all, I made it to Flemington around 9 p.m. with Uncle George talking me around the rural roads of Flemington, NJ by cell phone (I discovered sadly that the GPS outlet in rental cars is disabled so you will have to rent the GPS unit from them!). To greet me in the driveway was cousin Jeanne who had come down from Maine to surprise her dad for Father's Day. Even though Jeanne was leaving the next morning, it was an unexpected delight to see her. I somehow felt that in that one day, (Friday, June 25) the female eldests of our generation in the Schaefer family had connected (of the 3 Schaefer brothers, each brother's family was blessed with a female as their first-born). I'm not sure why that felt noticable to me but it did.
So there was Uncle George, nearly 80, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as some might say. We stayed up until nearly midnight chatting. Jeanne mentioned as we were going to bed that a truck delivery was expected in the morning. What she didn't say was that the time would be 6 a.m. and the truck would be a 18-wheel deisel as long as the driveway - pulling itself INTO the driveway, unloading its bobcat which would then be unloading barrels of sugar water for an hour - all right under my bedroom window. It was a startling way to start the day, for sure. But there I was standing at the window looking out at Uncle George who was out there dressed and working as I come to realize happens often (i.e. he gets up around or even before dawn to work on the family bee business). The barrels of sugar water are to take to his hives which sometimes run out of enough to eat during the pollinating season. Uncle George and his son George left with their own truck (big sign on the side that says Jean's Honey, Inc.) to deliver the barrels to the hundreds of hives that they have on various farms all over New Jersey. Basically what happens is that George makes deals with farmers to install his bees on their farms. The farmers want and need the bees to pollinate their crops (otherwise no apples, cherries, pumpkins or any number of other crops would not happen without the bees). The bees are then busy generating honey which George is then able to collect and sell. No processing. Honey from the hives to the table. The farmers also sell the honey and after 40+ years, there are customers all over NJ expecting their deliveries of Jean's Honey. It's all quite amazing. There's more to the story about how Uncle George got into the bee business at all, but I think I'll save that part to add to the family tree.
Uncle George and I then went to St. Magdalena Cemetery in Flemington to visit the graves of Nana and Poppa, and Sarah Crown (Nana's sister). I had been to this cemetery almost 25 years ago when Poppa died, but not since. It's a beautiful place and Uncle George showed me where he will someday be - under some beautiful trees. We took a brief tour of old part of Flemington before heading back home to make lunch for Aunt Jean. During the day, as we were talking two more trucks arrived to collect honey, and not small amounts of it! Uncle George would go out and greet these people who, naturally, were people he has known a long time now. It was fun to watch and I even chipped in to help pack some cases of honey bears. In the mean time, Uncle George brought out some very old family items that his parents had once owned, and through the course of the afternoon we went through it all, discovering some treasures along the way. And then Uncle George and I just sat back and talked - all afternoon, it seemed like time just slipped away as I kept asking questions and he kept remembering and describing and I kept scribbling notes. I learned much more than I expected to about Schaefer history as well as Uncle George's own life. Our conversation seemed to weave in and out as Aunt Jean would wake up and need our attention in between, cousin George arrived to get the truck ready for Sunday's delivery of sugar water barrels, and Uncle George prepared a wonderful dinner (chicken breasts, green beans, Jeannie's yummy leftover macaroni casserole, and apple sauce), Aunt Jean did the dishes (which I did again later). At the end of the day while the elders napped in their chairs, I sat outside watching the fireflies lighting up around his land and tried to let my mind just quietly absorb this time and place, and the long and proud history of Uncle George's life and that of his and our family. There's so much more than I never knew in the story of our past and its evolution into present, and I feel happy and proud to discover this heritage now and to set my intentions to document what I can for any of the questioning souls who might come behind us.
Now I am on the train to Boston, having reversed my course back to PHL early this morning, returned the car, traveled back into the city, having time to sit and enjoy a hot cup of tea while admiring the cavernous architecture and history that seems to belong to all old train stations. The train has a plug-in for my computer and even as I type I watch out the window the click-clack of changing scenery, urban to suburbuan to rural, and I feel myself sliding back into present tense where I will necessarily be for the next 3 days. But I'm glad for arriving in the way I am, not all at once, but in stages where the past seems to call me to know not only the old stories but also the shared relations of today whose lives of work and love are carving the stories of now.
The bus back to PHL was an Express, meaning it was not stopping in all the smaller towns, but then I learned why it takes the same amount of time. It took just over an hour to travel the last 14 miles into the city as the freeway becomes a parking lot. I just had to adjust my 'hurry up let's get there' attitude and let the bus driver deal with the traffic. Ahhh, not so bad then. Once in the city I was off to the airport to pick up my rental car so that I could then join the Friday afternoon traffic! Still in all, I made it to Flemington around 9 p.m. with Uncle George talking me around the rural roads of Flemington, NJ by cell phone (I discovered sadly that the GPS outlet in rental cars is disabled so you will have to rent the GPS unit from them!). To greet me in the driveway was cousin Jeanne who had come down from Maine to surprise her dad for Father's Day. Even though Jeanne was leaving the next morning, it was an unexpected delight to see her. I somehow felt that in that one day, (Friday, June 25) the female eldests of our generation in the Schaefer family had connected (of the 3 Schaefer brothers, each brother's family was blessed with a female as their first-born). I'm not sure why that felt noticable to me but it did.
So there was Uncle George, nearly 80, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as some might say. We stayed up until nearly midnight chatting. Jeanne mentioned as we were going to bed that a truck delivery was expected in the morning. What she didn't say was that the time would be 6 a.m. and the truck would be a 18-wheel deisel as long as the driveway - pulling itself INTO the driveway, unloading its bobcat which would then be unloading barrels of sugar water for an hour - all right under my bedroom window. It was a startling way to start the day, for sure. But there I was standing at the window looking out at Uncle George who was out there dressed and working as I come to realize happens often (i.e. he gets up around or even before dawn to work on the family bee business). The barrels of sugar water are to take to his hives which sometimes run out of enough to eat during the pollinating season. Uncle George and his son George left with their own truck (big sign on the side that says Jean's Honey, Inc.) to deliver the barrels to the hundreds of hives that they have on various farms all over New Jersey. Basically what happens is that George makes deals with farmers to install his bees on their farms. The farmers want and need the bees to pollinate their crops (otherwise no apples, cherries, pumpkins or any number of other crops would not happen without the bees). The bees are then busy generating honey which George is then able to collect and sell. No processing. Honey from the hives to the table. The farmers also sell the honey and after 40+ years, there are customers all over NJ expecting their deliveries of Jean's Honey. It's all quite amazing. There's more to the story about how Uncle George got into the bee business at all, but I think I'll save that part to add to the family tree.
Uncle George and I then went to St. Magdalena Cemetery in Flemington to visit the graves of Nana and Poppa, and Sarah Crown (Nana's sister). I had been to this cemetery almost 25 years ago when Poppa died, but not since. It's a beautiful place and Uncle George showed me where he will someday be - under some beautiful trees. We took a brief tour of old part of Flemington before heading back home to make lunch for Aunt Jean. During the day, as we were talking two more trucks arrived to collect honey, and not small amounts of it! Uncle George would go out and greet these people who, naturally, were people he has known a long time now. It was fun to watch and I even chipped in to help pack some cases of honey bears. In the mean time, Uncle George brought out some very old family items that his parents had once owned, and through the course of the afternoon we went through it all, discovering some treasures along the way. And then Uncle George and I just sat back and talked - all afternoon, it seemed like time just slipped away as I kept asking questions and he kept remembering and describing and I kept scribbling notes. I learned much more than I expected to about Schaefer history as well as Uncle George's own life. Our conversation seemed to weave in and out as Aunt Jean would wake up and need our attention in between, cousin George arrived to get the truck ready for Sunday's delivery of sugar water barrels, and Uncle George prepared a wonderful dinner (chicken breasts, green beans, Jeannie's yummy leftover macaroni casserole, and apple sauce), Aunt Jean did the dishes (which I did again later). At the end of the day while the elders napped in their chairs, I sat outside watching the fireflies lighting up around his land and tried to let my mind just quietly absorb this time and place, and the long and proud history of Uncle George's life and that of his and our family. There's so much more than I never knew in the story of our past and its evolution into present, and I feel happy and proud to discover this heritage now and to set my intentions to document what I can for any of the questioning souls who might come behind us.
Now I am on the train to Boston, having reversed my course back to PHL early this morning, returned the car, traveled back into the city, having time to sit and enjoy a hot cup of tea while admiring the cavernous architecture and history that seems to belong to all old train stations. The train has a plug-in for my computer and even as I type I watch out the window the click-clack of changing scenery, urban to suburbuan to rural, and I feel myself sliding back into present tense where I will necessarily be for the next 3 days. But I'm glad for arriving in the way I am, not all at once, but in stages where the past seems to call me to know not only the old stories but also the shared relations of today whose lives of work and love are carving the stories of now.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Follow Me
Here is a map link that will show my travel route through next week! I'll have to add to it after that!
http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=103850768895875887638.000489dd16b94ab93732a&ll=40.946714,-89.34082&spn=15.124711,40.253906&z=5
http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=103850768895875887638.000489dd16b94ab93732a&ll=40.946714,-89.34082&spn=15.124711,40.253906&z=5
A Day with Cousin
First we (Cousin and I, and two of her children Meredith and Bryant) decided to visit Penn's Cave, a drive not far. We were able to travel through the underground cave in a boat while the guide was pointing out the stalagmites and stalagtites and all the intriguing geological formations and history. I also got to enjoy the scenary around the area and especially enjoyed seeing things like a big and quite old round barn.
In the afternoon, cousin and I rode bikes into town. The trail was actually a rail-trail through the woods and once in town we went across the Penn State campus to a yummy ice cream store. We then biked to a nearby arboretum and then most of the way back home (Cousin's husband Steve came to get us since the hills on the way home are considered deadly (!!)
Then we headed off to a swim meet where Cousin's oldest son is a coach and the other two swim for the Park Forest Bullfrogs (I think that's right - lots of green tie-dye and frogs everywhere!) It was fun and the kids did great.
Today, which is really the next day, Friday, Cousin headed off to work (she is an M.D.) and I am catching up on such things as blogging before heading to the bus station this afternoon to head back to PHL. From there, I'll catch a train to the airport, pick up a rental car and head north to Flemington, NJ (which hopefully I will find in the dwindling light), where I will be staying with Uncle George and Aunt Jean. I talked to Uncle George last night and he is excited I am coming to see them. yeah.
In the afternoon, cousin and I rode bikes into town. The trail was actually a rail-trail through the woods and once in town we went across the Penn State campus to a yummy ice cream store. We then biked to a nearby arboretum and then most of the way back home (Cousin's husband Steve came to get us since the hills on the way home are considered deadly (!!)
Then we headed off to a swim meet where Cousin's oldest son is a coach and the other two swim for the Park Forest Bullfrogs (I think that's right - lots of green tie-dye and frogs everywhere!) It was fun and the kids did great.
Today, which is really the next day, Friday, Cousin headed off to work (she is an M.D.) and I am catching up on such things as blogging before heading to the bus station this afternoon to head back to PHL. From there, I'll catch a train to the airport, pick up a rental car and head north to Flemington, NJ (which hopefully I will find in the dwindling light), where I will be staying with Uncle George and Aunt Jean. I talked to Uncle George last night and he is excited I am coming to see them. yeah.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Wed in State College
Who knew Pennsylvania going west was so beautiful? Lush and rolling hills - beautiful country. Cousin picked me up right on time, took me to a great lunch, toured the area on the way to her home. Her house is set on a wide open acre with a view of the hills, and her family are all delightful. We had kabobs for dinner and went out for ice cream. I'm so glad to finally be here.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Big City Travels
Here is the non-whiney summary of my day:
The flight from MPLS to PHL was delayed by an hour for reasons having something to do with airplane maintenance. And even though the good pilots made up some of that time, when I arrived I decided that there was no point in trying to rush into the city from the airport to catch my bus. So I took the public train - which cost only $7 and didn't take long at all, and then took a taxi to the room where I am staying for the night, found courtesy of craigslist. My bus to State College leaves tomorrow morning. I am not expecting it to be delayed for maintenance, but anything could happen and for that I am prepared.
Here is my whine: waaaah wa waaaaah wa waaaaah.
I had alot of time to think about modern travel, how it took all my energy all day long to physically fly the 1200 miles in 2 hours. How long I stood in the security line and how ordinary it is for everybody to remove their toiletries stored in plastic bags, along with their computers, their shoes and jackets, the mechanical and visual inspection for evil one by one by one, not just how long but how degrading it all is, trying to jam the least belongings into the smallest suit case so I can avoid paying $35 to check my bag, which everybody does and flight attendants hate, the ones who rather glare at you as you board and later do little to hide their resentment at bringing you a drink, never MIND the lady across the aisle who had the nerve to actually speak up and ask for ice (all the rest of us had been silently drinking our warm sodas), only to be told NO ICE, SORRY. And I sigh because none of this is pleasant - gets only less and less so, and what would Sarah Gillespie say? or George Schaefer or for that matter any of the numerous elders on that flight sitting there looking helpless because you know all they want is to see their grandchildren who are somewhere far away. I think there should be one airline for business travelers, one airline for vacationers, and a whole separate airline for people over 50 (that works for me) who want only to visit the people and places they love or that somebody they loved loved - something like that. I don't expect there is any business plan that would ever turn a profit for such a venture - that would have to be the point.
I should be out visiting the Liberty Bell at least. Maybe some time other. Today this place is a giant and humid city, and I am far, far away from my element. Whenever I question what IS my element, I can say what it is not. This.
The flight from MPLS to PHL was delayed by an hour for reasons having something to do with airplane maintenance. And even though the good pilots made up some of that time, when I arrived I decided that there was no point in trying to rush into the city from the airport to catch my bus. So I took the public train - which cost only $7 and didn't take long at all, and then took a taxi to the room where I am staying for the night, found courtesy of craigslist. My bus to State College leaves tomorrow morning. I am not expecting it to be delayed for maintenance, but anything could happen and for that I am prepared.
Here is my whine: waaaah wa waaaaah wa waaaaah.
I had alot of time to think about modern travel, how it took all my energy all day long to physically fly the 1200 miles in 2 hours. How long I stood in the security line and how ordinary it is for everybody to remove their toiletries stored in plastic bags, along with their computers, their shoes and jackets, the mechanical and visual inspection for evil one by one by one, not just how long but how degrading it all is, trying to jam the least belongings into the smallest suit case so I can avoid paying $35 to check my bag, which everybody does and flight attendants hate, the ones who rather glare at you as you board and later do little to hide their resentment at bringing you a drink, never MIND the lady across the aisle who had the nerve to actually speak up and ask for ice (all the rest of us had been silently drinking our warm sodas), only to be told NO ICE, SORRY. And I sigh because none of this is pleasant - gets only less and less so, and what would Sarah Gillespie say? or George Schaefer or for that matter any of the numerous elders on that flight sitting there looking helpless because you know all they want is to see their grandchildren who are somewhere far away. I think there should be one airline for business travelers, one airline for vacationers, and a whole separate airline for people over 50 (that works for me) who want only to visit the people and places they love or that somebody they loved loved - something like that. I don't expect there is any business plan that would ever turn a profit for such a venture - that would have to be the point.
I should be out visiting the Liberty Bell at least. Maybe some time other. Today this place is a giant and humid city, and I am far, far away from my element. Whenever I question what IS my element, I can say what it is not. This.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Monday in Iowa
Monday, June 21
NOTE: Most of this post is about Gillespie genealogy. If that interests you, read on. Otherwise you can just get the idea that I took a side trip through Iowa,
Left Omaha early, heading north. Heavy rain all the way to Sioux City. One whole side of the interstate was closed for repaving, the old pavement having been torn up, but with no new pavement having been laid yet, it was just a river of mud, miles and miles. All the fields around the highway were nearly lakes. One begins to understand how the midwest comes to be flooded.
Turned northeast from Sioux City and made good time to Hartley, Iowa by 10 a.m. The rain started to let up although the dark clouds of the storm seemed to be hovering around in nearly every direction. I finally found the cemetery I was looking for: Pleasant View. Luckily I saw a truck parked near one of the maintenance buildings and it was the caretaker there to pick up downed branches from the storms. He helped me locate the Husted family in no time. Next to a fairly sizable bush there is a Husted monument with what I think is the symbol of the Masonic Order engraved at the top. In front are three headstones that appear connected by concrete between them. Only one of them is readable: Sarah Husted born Jan 23 1837, died May 7 1916. This would be our Sarah, born in Ireland (or Scotland?), third child of our Robert and Elizabeth, herself a mother of 8 children, dying at the age of 79 having lived much of her life in the rolling hills of Iowa.
The other two stones to the right of Sarah are very nearly completely smooth and I find myself wishing there was some way to restore the engravings. But by feeling the stone next to Sarah, I could make out the shape of the numbers 1901 at the bottom, which would be the year Alfred died. On the stone next Alfred, I could 'feel' the numbers 1870 and 1871 - which would be the infant daughter of Alfred and Sarah whose name was Susan. I asked the caretaker if he had records, and he did: a plot map that merely confirms the names Sarah, A.B., and Susan.
To the left of this family group is a single headstone that says: Sarah Husted, born May 9 1876, died June 8, 1904. At first I thought this was our Sarah, but clearly not when I remembered our Sarah had to be born much earlier. So who was this? Sarah and Alfred did not have a daughter named Sarah. The clue was in the other two stones to the right of the Husted monument: Ernest Husted, born Feb 8 1863, died jan 25 1945, and Vernie M. Husted born Oct 2, 1887, died June 22, 1957. The marker for Vernie also has an additional marker that reads: American Legion Auxiliary. So Ernest is the son of Alfred and Sarah. Vernie is Ernest's second wife, Verna Mae. Ernest's FIRST wife was named Sarah, and so I conclude that the extra Sarah Husted gravestone belongs to Ernest's first wife.
The Hartley library was not open until late in the afternoon and so because I had many miles to cover I did not wait around Hartley more than another hour. But I drove around the town, had lunch at Red's Cafe in town and watched all the locals coming and going (all full of mud from being in their fields no doubt) and imagined our relations doing the same in their day. I wanted to stay and find somebody to talk to, but I could see the rain clouds moving in again, so decided I should be on my way.
It was a long drive to Mpls - pretty much all in the rain. The traffic coming into the city was a jolt after two days of wide open spaces. I do love the midwest.
NOTE: Most of this post is about Gillespie genealogy. If that interests you, read on. Otherwise you can just get the idea that I took a side trip through Iowa,
Left Omaha early, heading north. Heavy rain all the way to Sioux City. One whole side of the interstate was closed for repaving, the old pavement having been torn up, but with no new pavement having been laid yet, it was just a river of mud, miles and miles. All the fields around the highway were nearly lakes. One begins to understand how the midwest comes to be flooded.
Turned northeast from Sioux City and made good time to Hartley, Iowa by 10 a.m. The rain started to let up although the dark clouds of the storm seemed to be hovering around in nearly every direction. I finally found the cemetery I was looking for: Pleasant View. Luckily I saw a truck parked near one of the maintenance buildings and it was the caretaker there to pick up downed branches from the storms. He helped me locate the Husted family in no time. Next to a fairly sizable bush there is a Husted monument with what I think is the symbol of the Masonic Order engraved at the top. In front are three headstones that appear connected by concrete between them. Only one of them is readable: Sarah Husted born Jan 23 1837, died May 7 1916. This would be our Sarah, born in Ireland (or Scotland?), third child of our Robert and Elizabeth, herself a mother of 8 children, dying at the age of 79 having lived much of her life in the rolling hills of Iowa.
The other two stones to the right of Sarah are very nearly completely smooth and I find myself wishing there was some way to restore the engravings. But by feeling the stone next to Sarah, I could make out the shape of the numbers 1901 at the bottom, which would be the year Alfred died. On the stone next Alfred, I could 'feel' the numbers 1870 and 1871 - which would be the infant daughter of Alfred and Sarah whose name was Susan. I asked the caretaker if he had records, and he did: a plot map that merely confirms the names Sarah, A.B., and Susan.
To the left of this family group is a single headstone that says: Sarah Husted, born May 9 1876, died June 8, 1904. At first I thought this was our Sarah, but clearly not when I remembered our Sarah had to be born much earlier. So who was this? Sarah and Alfred did not have a daughter named Sarah. The clue was in the other two stones to the right of the Husted monument: Ernest Husted, born Feb 8 1863, died jan 25 1945, and Vernie M. Husted born Oct 2, 1887, died June 22, 1957. The marker for Vernie also has an additional marker that reads: American Legion Auxiliary. So Ernest is the son of Alfred and Sarah. Vernie is Ernest's second wife, Verna Mae. Ernest's FIRST wife was named Sarah, and so I conclude that the extra Sarah Husted gravestone belongs to Ernest's first wife.
The Hartley library was not open until late in the afternoon and so because I had many miles to cover I did not wait around Hartley more than another hour. But I drove around the town, had lunch at Red's Cafe in town and watched all the locals coming and going (all full of mud from being in their fields no doubt) and imagined our relations doing the same in their day. I wanted to stay and find somebody to talk to, but I could see the rain clouds moving in again, so decided I should be on my way.
It was a long drive to Mpls - pretty much all in the rain. The traffic coming into the city was a jolt after two days of wide open spaces. I do love the midwest.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Father's Day
First I will say that I am remembering my father as this journey begins today. I feel that he is glad for these travels and will be with me all along the way.
The weather was overcast through Colorado and Nebraska with growing lightening shows approaching the Missouri River. Turning north at Omaha, gigantic downpour, followed by wet quiet and cloudy lightning. The evening became cool and the grass was full of fireflies.
It's good to be with my friend of nearly 35 years. Her laugh stays with me for miles.
The weather was overcast through Colorado and Nebraska with growing lightening shows approaching the Missouri River. Turning north at Omaha, gigantic downpour, followed by wet quiet and cloudy lightning. The evening became cool and the grass was full of fireflies.
It's good to be with my friend of nearly 35 years. Her laugh stays with me for miles.
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