Genealogical Travel Trips are Great - Part One

J. Mark Lowe
I'm spending the weekend in Gadsden Alabama for the North East Alabama Genealogical Society Swapmeet to benefit the Nichols Memorial Library. On Thursday, the Library was open late, so I checked into my hotel by the Coosa River and stopped by the Library. There were several folks there researching and many of the great NEAGS volunteers who always make me feel so welcome. As I sat down at a table to begin research, the discussion turned to DNA and before I knew it, we were having an impromptu basic DNA presentation.
Friday morning began with a visit to my cousin, Jimmy Martin. Jimmy is the Grandson of Beckham and Kate Morris Martin of Warren Co KY. We usually visit at the Martin Family Reunion in Smiths Grove KY in July. I've always enjoyed our conversations and when Jimmy heard I was going to be in Gadsden - He invited me over.
Jimmy and his wife, Kris, live just outside Gadsden not too far east of the Coosa River. He gives wonderful directions and I drove right to their home. Jimmy was waiting for me. I am about 20 years older than Jimmy, so my knowledge of his older family members interests him. His Grandfather, Beckham, was one of the best storytellers in the family. Jimmy's Dad, Jimmie, always seemed so much like Uncle Beck and had a big personality himself. This younger Jimmy has that same contagious grin and laughter and seems to have been blessed with the storytelling gift himself.
Thanks to an earlier discussion with Jimmy, I found the pension record I mentioned in my earlier post. I sat down on the sofa and looked through the old pictures Jimmy had layed out. The only thing genealogists like better than old pictures is gravestones. There were many wonderful pictures of the family some old, some new.
In a few minutes, Kris came home. Jimmy asked her about the pictures she had used earlier in the week for a Scout presentation. Kris handed Jimmy an envelope. He pulled out an interesting tintype of an older African-American gentleman. He explained that Kris' parents found it at an antique shop. Unfortunately, there was no identification or even location. He pulled another photograph of a family out of the envelope and handed it to me. The lady in this photograph reminded me of my Lowe Great-Grandmother. When I flipped the picture over, the words on the back said Jim Martin's family. This was a photograph of my Great-Grandfather, Great-Grandmother and their oldest children, including my Grandmother. I had never viewed this photograph before. The resemblance is even more interesting because my Lowe Great-Grandmother and Martin Great-Grandmother were first cousins. I made a photograph of this picture and promised Jimmy to identify all of the children in order.
Kris had brought in some Bar-B-Q from Dad's in Gadsden for our lunch. What a great choice, the three of us had a great visit and discussed their sons - who are wonderful BTW. As we finished our conversation and Bar-B-Q sandwiches, a phone call told them schools were dismissing early because of the approaching storms. I realized I was late for the Library and headed back to Gadsden. Visiting with Kris and Jimmy was just like family visits should be. I felt like was I back in Kentucky visiting with my Martin family and sharing the same stories I heard growing up.
Friday afternoon was filled with one-on-one consultations with patrons of the Nichols Memorial Library before a presentation on my favorite online resources. Heavy rains and winds kept a few people home, but fortunately the major storm bypassed us.
Feeling a bit weary and feel some rest will give me enough energy to share the rest of the weekend, some great genealogical tips, and maybe the picture Jimmy shared. We all worked at Keeping the Story Alive by sharing the stories of our families.
Read Rosemary Jones Hyatt blog for the North East Alabama Genealogical Society.

Even Perfect Genealogists Miss Records

This photograph was taken at Granny Martin's house in Edmonson Co. Kentucky. My Dad, Joseph Wyatt Lowe, is marked with a blue square and the other square is above his Grandmother - Granny Martin - Clara Black Smith Martin.

J. Mark Lowe
Although I don't define myself as a 'Perfect Genealogist,' I do teach across the country sharing my experience as a Professional Researcher. It is only fair to share this new discovery of a record regarding my family, which seems so obvious to me now.
Let's talk about my beginning years. My genealogical search began when I was 7 years old. My family had just left a Martin Family Reunion in Smiths Grove, Kentucky. As soon as we drove away from the reunion, I began asking my Dad about that other Lowe family who attended the reunion - Who are they? How are they related to us?
He explained that they were related to us on the Martin side of our family and the Lowe side of our family. As a 7-year-old this was not clear to me, so I continued to quiz Dad. It was a hot July afternoon and we were packed like sardines in the car, but my Dad made a left turn and then a right turn and then a left turn. He stopped the car and hopped out. I quickly climbed into the seat and hopped out with him. We were in a cemetery.
We stood at the foot of the gravestone of my Dad's Martin grandparents. 'This is my Grandmother. We called her Granny Martin, he name was Clara Smith Martin." He told me other stories about her, and I remembered seeing some pictures of Granny Martin. Next to Granny Martin was buried her husband, James Wyatt Martin. My Dad told me that he was named for his Grandfather Martin (Wyatt) and his Great Grandfather Lowe (Joseph) - he also told me that Papa Martin died about 5 years before he was born. I had heard my Dad tell me many stories about Granny Martin and her family. My Dad was born at Granny Martin's house on the hill in Rocky Hill Station in Edmonson County. (and many that I don't have time to recollect here.)
Going back to the cemetery -->
My Dad pointed to the stones in the next row by his Grandparents. This is Rebecca James Martin, we called her Aunt Jim. She was Granny's sister and married Uncle Mike Martin. In the next row, is Martha Margaret Ann Gilmore Potter Smith Martin. She was Granny's and Aunt Jim's mother and married Uncle John Martin. So you see, a Mom and her two daughters married three brothers.
This 7-year-old needed more information and a genealogist was hatched.
I have so much documentation on Granny Martin and her family, I have original land documents, mortgages, cards, letters, etc. With the beginning of the Civil War Sesquicentennial, a cousin asked me about our Civil War Ancestors. I knew that Granny Martin's father, Moses M. Smith, served in the Union Army. He died when she was a young girl and is buried in Berea Christian Church cemetery in Polkville. However, I had never looked for a pension for Moses M. Smith, since he died a young man and his widow remarried in a reasonable time after his death. I decided to do a search for Moses M. Smith in the new records offered on the Civil War. Within the list of available records there was a listing in "Civil War Pension Index: General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934." Suddenly, I realized he had a young daughter living at this time - my GGrandmother Clara Smith. The pension index card indicated an application for a minor was filed in 1883 and the Guardian was F.M. Hardcastle. I knew that Mr. Hardcastle was married to Clara's Mother's sister (Aunt). This Moses M. Smith served in the 52d Kentucky Mounted Infantry.
Remember this index is titled by NARA as "General Index to Pension Files, 1861-1934. Washington, D.C.: National Archives and Records Administration. T288" As a good researcher, read the appropriate finding aids and explanations.
I now have a new record to review about my Great-Grandmother Clara Smith Martin and hopefully her father. This is a testament to a regular review of your previous genealogical research. A review may prompt a search in an additional area or encourage further research in a focused area. In honor of the 150th Anniversary of the Civil War, Ancestry.com is offering free access to these records.
I'm still learning about my family and enjoy sharing the stories my Dad told me along the way. Consider a review of your research, focusing on the Civil War era. Are there additional records that will shed light on your Ancestors? Whatever your choice, tell their stories and keep their story alive. I'm doing my part.

Where Are The Tree Houses?

I was talking with my friend, Jack Wood, with the Jackson-Madison County [Tenn.] library, when he asked this simple question - Where Are the Tree Houses?

We were lamenting the loss of simple activities that promoted creativity and imagination. He remembered how he 'found' lumber in his neighborhood to build his tree house. My experience was much the same. My tree house was in a mulberry tree located on the back property line on a hill. I had inherited the tree from my brother, Denny, who had held the tree as his own for many years. The lowest limb on the mulberry tree was beyond my reach, which kept me at bay. Denny has always loved chocolate, so whenever he had extra money it was spent for candy bars. In an effort to torture his little brother, he would keep his 'treasure' in a brown bag which he suspended high in the air in the mulberry tree. He also created a booby trap with fish hooks on the trunk of the mulberry tree to prevent access.

As a determined adventurer, as soon as he left for school, I began planning. One of the problems with the mulberry tree was its proximity to the sight of Mrs. Frey. Since I was the small, adorable child, she was often concerned that I might be injured and phoned my Mom. This protected me from the normal fighting with my brothers, who were larger, but prevented my attempts at scaling the mulberry tree with tools and ladders.

On this day, I decided that if I dragged a small wooden box under the mulberry tree, I might be able to jump while reaching upward to snag that lowest limb. In our building, I found a empty nail keg, which I thought would be excellent stepping stool. Unfortunately, the ground beneath the mulberry tree was rough and irregular. I steadied the barrel and climbed upon it. 1 - 2 - 3 and jump. I caught the lowest limb and thought I had achieved success. As I worked my way closer to the trunk of the tree, I realized that I missed the line of fish hooks up and down the mulberry tree.
I swung my legs up and around the limb, easing my way toward the bag of candy bars. Ouch! What was that? Ouch! I had been skewered by one of the booby trap fish hooks. Facing defeat, I began to realize how high above the ground I was hanging in pain. Deciding I couldn't jump down, my plan focused on moving to the trunk and shinnying down the trunk to the safe terra firma.

Making it safely to the trunk, wrapping my arms around the trunk, I started sliding down the tree. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Fish Hooks! Reaching the ground with tattered clothing and three fish hooks protruding from my body, I ran with all my might to the house to tell my Mom what Denny had done to me. My screaming must have alarmed Mrs. Frey because my Mom knew exactly what had happened before I arrived. Ok, good and bad memories surround that mulberry tree.

I agreed with Jack that libraries often served as the source of information and discovery for our communities. Woodworkers would review Popular Mechanics or Woodworking magazines for ideas to build. My oldest brother, Joe, learned to build radios and simple electronics from magazines. These early experiences formed a pathway to his career as an Engineer and Systems Analyst.

Early memories and experiences shape our love of history and often form the foundation for our desire to collect and share the stories of our family. As my great-neice and great-nephew were found climbing in the cherry tree in their grandparents' yard, I was reminded of my mulberry tree just down the hill from where they climbed. [Their grandparents live in the historic house where Mrs. Frey watched out her window.] Dig deep, share your stories, and help those who follow you to create their own special memories. Keep the story alive.

Be sure to record or write down the stories/memories of your family. Document the date, time and location for posterity.

First Grade Christmas in Cedar Hill

(as published in the Robertson County Times, 23 Dec 2009)

Christmas is here. It seems like only yesterday that I was enjoying a party in my first-grade classroom in Cedar Hill Elementary. We had red punch, decorated sugar cookies and cupcakes. We also exchanged names in the class to purchase a Christmas gift. I don’t remember if there was a financial limit, but I can’t imagine it was more than five dollars. The class had decorated our cedar tree with colored paper chains and other decorations we made in class from glitter and glue. There might have been some tinfoil stars as well, but I know we had lots of tinsel added at the end.

Our teacher was Mrs. Sallie Gamble Orand. She was a very gentle woman, who was always smiling and seemed to have time to talk to each one of us. Just a month ago, we were practicing a couple of songs for the Annual School Christmas Program. I remember that we sang “Away, in the Manger” and another song with an older group. The sixth-grade students, taught by Mrs. Marion Martin, played two Christmas selections on their flutes. This was very impressive to all of us in the first grade. My older brother, Denny, would have been in the seventh grade that year. I’m sure he sang with his class, but I don’t remember their performance that year, because I was so nervous. All of the younger classes sat in chairs in front of the stage, while the older classes came onto the stage for their performances.

On the night of the performance, there was a large Christmas tree on the stage and our principal, Mr. Joe Borthick, welcomed all of the parents and guests. I remember several of the older students playing Christmas songs on the piano during the evening. I know I was focused on our songs. My parents; my sister, Beverly; my brother, Wayne, and of course, my brother, Denny were there for our Christmas extravaganza. Our big brother, Joe, was home from college and came to our big show. It seemed to me that everyone I knew from Cedar Hill was in the auditorium.

The first grade stood for their first presentation. I was on the second row. On the row just in front of me were Sharon Shepard, Pam Harris, Mary Jo ‘Josie’ Head, and Julie ‘Sweetie’ Tinsley. Beside me were Billy Corbin, Mark Mason, Robert Hulsey and Bailey Knight. There were about 28 of us in the class that year as we stood for our song. Mrs. Lovan gave us our notes from the piano and Mrs. Orand stood before us smiling and urging us to sing out. I’m sure our parents thought our rendition of “Away in the Manger” was as beautiful as ever heard. We finished our second song to loud applause and took our seats. We listened intently as all of the other classes performed. Just as we thought the evening was over, Mr. Borthick, said we have a guest who has traveled a long way to be here in Cedar Hill tonight. “Ho, Ho. Ho., Merry Christmas!” was booming as the jolly old elf himself walked out onto the stage standing just behind the first graders. Now I had seen Santa many times at Ben Franklin 5 & 10 Store, at Gamble’s Hardware, and other stores over the years, but never had I seen Santa in Cedar Hill. What a Christmas! I was ready for Santa to come.

We were gathered in class for our Christmas party and after we had distributed all of our gifts and enjoying the party, Mrs. Orand called each of us up to her desk, one at a time. She wished us a very Merry Christmas, gave us a book and a big hug. She gave me The Big-Little Dinosaur. I still have that book from that special person. It was not the first book I was ever given, but Mrs. Orand would always fill a special role for me. It was through her encouragement that I began reading every book I could. She encouraged me to learn music theory and I began taking piano lessons. Perhaps I learned that it was not the gift itself that was special, but the attachment to the special person who gave it.

As we went home from school that afternoon, everyone shouting Merry Christmas as they boarded the buses home for the holidays. There was a light snow falling as we pulled out of the school drive in Cedar Hill on Bus No. 6, driven by Mr. Porter Corbin. Now Mr. Porter was one of the nicest men I ever knew, but he didn’t put up with any shenanigans on the bus. He let my brother, Denny, off the bus at our Feed Mill. When I walked up to the front of the bus to get off, Mr. Porter said, “Not today young man, you’re headed to the house.” I was disappointed because I wanted a bag of peanuts and a Grape Delish soda from the big cooler at the Feed Mill. A few other students got off the bus at the railroad track and others at Gossett’s store. When the bus turned left onto the big Highway, I knew my house was the next stop. Mr. Porter stopped in front of my house and called one of the older students to cross the highway with me. He wished me a ‘Merry Christmas’ in his big booming voice and I waved bye to all of my friends who were headed home in the snow. The snow continued to fall until we had six inches.

We have some pictures of the holidays, but it is hard to capture the true essence of those family gatherings. Those photographs cannot hold the smell of my Mom’s cornbread dressing cooking or the taste of Aunt Martha’s fruit salad or the sound of my brothers playing with their new toys. Remember to take some time this season to share your memories with your family.

[The photo of Mrs. Sallie Orand was saved in one of my many memory boxes. I believe she gave each of us a picture in the First Grade. ]