tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68659164311875159872024-02-01T23:09:24.591-06:00My Genealogy GirlBlog for my family history...Silks, Sauls, Sayers, Meisinger, Locke, Ogborne, Sharpless, Strickland...and the list keeps growing!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-76968259951374629172022-08-31T10:03:00.001-05:002022-08-31T10:03:11.000-05:00Wordless Wednesday - LeRoy Meisinger: A Studious Fellow<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(Photograph is in my possession!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDm-mlsIs3T9Inrb6V5ndY3tDMFX7fxo2POWjAZKArkrNse0t0Z7fB3pt1or9cJnSVRLCGwfBubrHQsiz6wQrK6cJfdBc5khAkSQ76JS3cqvQpwkIlVwN7edY1RcCE7yeK9Vb-QB8LJnpU0qHii3SD3kz7cXK78sFx5rBicyuPwwNLFwT8Gk8OIft/s1791/F69E2ABC-6662-42F5-B75F-E863EC8A1A09.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1791" data-original-width="1619" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDm-mlsIs3T9Inrb6V5ndY3tDMFX7fxo2POWjAZKArkrNse0t0Z7fB3pt1or9cJnSVRLCGwfBubrHQsiz6wQrK6cJfdBc5khAkSQ76JS3cqvQpwkIlVwN7edY1RcCE7yeK9Vb-QB8LJnpU0qHii3SD3kz7cXK78sFx5rBicyuPwwNLFwT8Gk8OIft/s320/F69E2ABC-6662-42F5-B75F-E863EC8A1A09.jpeg" width="289" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-57749623390146082052022-08-30T13:56:00.002-05:002022-08-30T13:56:14.067-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - My War Diary - Infantry Days June 2, 1917 to March 19, 1918 Five Thousand Miles From the Western Front<p> <em style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">"I have enlisted with a group of my friends in an organization which, I believe, offers me the opportunities for the best service, but what will it lead to is useless to guess, for there are no more uncertain quantities than the fortunes of war." - <strong>C. LeRoy Meisinger</strong> - WWI Diary, June 3, 1917</em></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-50622912215510766972022-08-30T13:45:00.002-05:002022-08-30T13:45:27.805-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - WWI Journal: Thanksgiving Day Menu at Camp Cody in Deming, NM<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">“November Twenty - ninth (1917)</span></p><article class="hentry author-suzanne-silk post-type-text sqs-frontend-overlay-editor-widget-host" data-item-id="5de16f53a06c9269204b6109" id="article-5de16f53a06c9269204b6109" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 80px;"><div class="body entry-content" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><div class="sqs-layout sqs-grid-12 columns-12" data-layout-label="Post Body" data-type="item" data-updated-on="1575055631659" id="item-5de16f53a06c9269204b6109"><div class="row sqs-row" style="margin-left: -17px; margin-right: -17px; position: relative; width: auto !important;"><div class="col sqs-col-12 span-12" style="float: none !important; padding-right: 0px; width: auto !important;"><div class="sqs-block html-block sqs-block-html" data-block-type="2" id="block-ae2661b33983d28b423f" style="clear: none; height: auto; outline: none; padding: 0px 17px; position: relative;"><div class="sqs-block-content" style="outline: none;"><p class="" style="font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;">Thanksgiving Day. On such a day as this, I begin to think that this is the first such holiday that I have been away from home; and I wonder if a year from today I will be up to my knees in Flanders. But my work came to the rescue, for holidays may come and holidays may go, but my work goes on forever. About nine o’clock I received a telegram from home, and I appreciated it very much. We worked until noon, when we heard the mess call and hurried to see what Uncle Sam had for dinner. And we were well satisfied for there were more things to eat than our mess kits would accommodate: turkey, oyster dressing, potato salad, cranberries, potatoes - all heaped together in the most cosmopolitan fashion. On the flat tray of the kit were butter, celery, green onions, radishes and stuffed olives, and pumpkin pie with ice cream. And for the cup we had the choice of cocoa or lemonade. Too soon it was over, and the vision of a hoped for siesta, or, to be military, - a bit of bunk - fatigue - went glimmering indeed, it was four o’clock before our work was over.”</p></div></div></div></div></div></div><footer><div class="meta" style="color: #b3b3b3;"><div class="first meta-row" style="margin: 1em 0px;"></div><div class="second meta-row" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span class="sqs-simple-like" data-item-id="5de16f53a06c9269204b6109" data-like-count="1" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1661884952595_543" style="-webkit-user-select: none; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; float: right; line-height: 18px;"><span class="like-icon" style="animation: 0s ease 0s 1 normal none running none; background-color: #999999; background-image: url("//assets.squarespace.com/universal/images-v6/comments/icon_like_12_light.png"); background-position: 50% center; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 10px; border-radius: 50%; display: block; float: left; height: 18px; margin-right: 5px; transition: background-color 0s ease 0s, opacity 0.5s ease-out 0s; width: 18px;"></span><span class="like-count">1 Likes</span></span><span class="squarespace-social-buttons inline-style" data-asset-url="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/58ef8d2729687fbef7a6a168/58f512dc29687f31125aae35/5de16f53a06c9269204b6109/1617280406413/" data-full-url="/new-blog/2019/11/29/leroys-wwi-journal-thanksgiving-day-at-camp-in-ft-deming" data-record-type="1" data-system-data-id="" data-title="LeRoy's WWI Journal: Thanksgiving Day Menu at Camp Cody in Deming, NM" style="-webkit-user-select: none; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; position: relative;"><div class="yui3-widget yui3-socialbutton" id="social-yui_3_17_2_1_1661884952595_447"><div class="yui3-socialbutton-content" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1661884952595_452"><div class="ss-social-button-wrapper"><div class="ss-social-button">Share</div></div><div class="ss-social-list-wrapper" style="height: 0px; left: 0px !important; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; z-index: 10000;"><div class="ss-social-button-list" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.05) 0px 1px 3px; min-width: 108px; padding: 14px;"></div></div></div></div></span></div></div></footer></article><nav class="pagination clear" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border-color: rgb(208, 216, 251); border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 0px; margin: 34px 0px 68px; padding: 17px 0px;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></nav>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-76375956712121795102022-08-30T13:43:00.005-05:002022-08-30T14:03:46.256-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - Balloon Flights: LeRoy’s Connection with Radio Stations and Local People<p> <span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here is an article proving that LeRoy had contact with people in towns as he was flying. It is quaint to know that the townspeople invited them to a banquet. Shows how exciting the flights were to people. I cannot be sure if LeRoy and James took them up on the invitation. I like to think they did. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzhRGT6UbAMajuSaamsYqRMYcA7-LU_kxJoLfX4zSPviosyImux9AXc4BJUECkhi06JRlsjGghoAxiHoyO2fStJO2zGAbCktfm6MDeBufVB2bFPVgRK3KsB8z1sI0d53dydtVCymA0fPoqFV_rWK-lbLuWnCKLQGiGDKM04WjeZzFmlqRKkPGBD2K/s886/250FE464-3842-49BB-92AD-7B80BA7F1CC7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="886" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzhRGT6UbAMajuSaamsYqRMYcA7-LU_kxJoLfX4zSPviosyImux9AXc4BJUECkhi06JRlsjGghoAxiHoyO2fStJO2zGAbCktfm6MDeBufVB2bFPVgRK3KsB8z1sI0d53dydtVCymA0fPoqFV_rWK-lbLuWnCKLQGiGDKM04WjeZzFmlqRKkPGBD2K/s320/250FE464-3842-49BB-92AD-7B80BA7F1CC7.jpeg" width="181" /></a><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 12px;">This article was found in The Daily Times, Davenport, Iowa, 03 Jun 1924, page 8.</span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtEzBzyDqOLRdcLKnVeJ7SWGwlJmh0RSrKIVyv0kE4NBeCTrg137akisPRy3Y9aaPb6m8HlYa25QxfJ1Tl-SYuU481YXNrUq3-DXTbPJHYMF0FWvE1ZhqatZe8VM8o-BSS02gqvIqjjIFT6YM85qfbxztOpEyexvbKVU_PcxtBJUMBVxS9L_dOD30-/s500/4707E1ED-471E-4EE7-9B33-A1C307EF93AD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="500" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtEzBzyDqOLRdcLKnVeJ7SWGwlJmh0RSrKIVyv0kE4NBeCTrg137akisPRy3Y9aaPb6m8HlYa25QxfJ1Tl-SYuU481YXNrUq3-DXTbPJHYMF0FWvE1ZhqatZe8VM8o-BSS02gqvIqjjIFT6YM85qfbxztOpEyexvbKVU_PcxtBJUMBVxS9L_dOD30-/s320/4707E1ED-471E-4EE7-9B33-A1C307EF93AD.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 12px;">Palmer School Radio Station, Davenport, Iowa. Date of photograph unknown.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-70458849590703146482022-08-30T13:40:00.003-05:002022-08-30T14:02:20.936-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - Newspaper Clipping of Balloon Accident with Photographs of LeRoy Meisinger and James Neely<p> <span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This article is from The Tribune in Coshocton, Ohio dated 09 Jun 1924, Mon • Page 8</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiYrsZbuAVqwWHJvPa9E4DjBwtkNFbK6zbVDjmAul6DE6t_A0xdAdNKoQVC4B1Gj5v9K8VGI--sNdaYZleCuAitIjqGFAW1W4jUQ3JEkjUYhNresyfndPE6khL6N1h7OLA54b6D61K2CGgXzPYU3hXMs5l-VPFzstkTq8oXNr8Ttr7z93qqLBrkFwh/s1203/F80C5096-152E-4D6E-981D-19C93B3AF411.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiYrsZbuAVqwWHJvPa9E4DjBwtkNFbK6zbVDjmAul6DE6t_A0xdAdNKoQVC4B1Gj5v9K8VGI--sNdaYZleCuAitIjqGFAW1W4jUQ3JEkjUYhNresyfndPE6khL6N1h7OLA54b6D61K2CGgXzPYU3hXMs5l-VPFzstkTq8oXNr8Ttr7z93qqLBrkFwh/s320/F80C5096-152E-4D6E-981D-19C93B3AF411.jpeg" width="133" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-47184407849085622422022-08-30T13:38:00.002-05:002022-08-30T13:38:12.436-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - The Moment my Ancestor Died: Finding the Time of Death C. LeRoy Meisinger and James Neely<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Often we are taken aback when we come across the death record of an ancestor. Details are found…date, age, cause of death… But what if we discover something that describes the exact time of death in a very dramatic and tangible way. That is what I found in a newspaper article from the Chattanooga Daily Times (Chattanooga, TN) dated Wednesday, June 4, 1924. Actually this is just one of many newspapers that reported the accident. Several details are given. However one caught my eye this time. It was a detail about James Neely’s watch. Just a sentence that gave me a moment to pause and reflect. Not only do I know the date LeRoy died but I know the very moment. The moment the balloon was hit by lightning. The moment LeRoy and James died.</span></p><p class="" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;">“A watch on Lieut. Neely’s body had stopped at 11:15, seven hours after the fatal flight started.”</p><p class="" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;">This detail made it real to me. This was more than a date or cause of death. This was a personal item worn by James that stopped the moment the lightning struck the balloon. This was the moment my ancestor died.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-15917453600875990032022-08-30T13:36:00.000-05:002022-08-30T13:36:03.664-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - WWI Journal: LeRoy’s Parents Meet General Blocksom<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Entry from LeRoy’s journal dated December 9, 1917. He parents just arrived to Deming via train.</span></p><p class="" data-rte-preserve-empty="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"></p><p class="" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;">”…General Blocksom, the commander of the 34th Division was on the train, just returning from France, where he had been for several months; and I told my parents hoping that we might get a glimpse of the great man. But the General was “old stuff” to them. They had made his acquaintance along about Kansas City and had some chats with him. The General even offered Mama his lower berth when it was found she couldn’t get one. The joke was on the General, however, for it was later discovered that his was an upper too.”</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-51697899640608506932022-08-30T13:34:00.004-05:002022-08-30T13:34:24.929-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - Traveling Tuesday: Chasing LeRoy in Nebraska <p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Like many genealogists, I have a deep desire to see where my ancestors lived. The streets they walked. The buildings they saw. The places they lived. In May 2017, I decided to go for a week to Lincoln, Nebraska to see where LeRoy lived. My main reason for going was to find a book – the transcript of LeRoy’s WWI journal which is in the library of Beatrice, Nebraska and is owned by the Nebraska Genealogical Society. My first day in Lincoln I travel to Beatrice (which I quickly learned is pronounced Bee-AT-tris). After thoroughly searching the reference section, I finally find the spiral bound copy of the transcript of his WWI journal. Thrilled, I scan every page. But in the back of my mind I wonder where his original journal could be. Historical society? Archives? Distant cousin? Someone must have it! My few days in Lincoln pass quickly. I meet several people. Enjoy my visit at the History Museum and the archives. Love walking around the beautiful cemetery where my ancestors are buried. Still…where is that journal?</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">The day before I am to fly back home, I decide on a whim to visit the place where LeRoy was born, Plattsmouth, Nebraska. Driving the straight roads to Plattsmouth, I have little hope of finding anything. However, I am excited to see the cute, little museum I found on the Cass County Historical Society Museum’s website. A nice way to spend my last day in Nebraska. I park right in front of the small brick building. A friendly volunteer greets me as I open the door and tells me if I have any questions to let her know. I wander around the exhibits and am very impressed by the variety and number of items on display. I notice my ancestor’s last name, Meisinger, on cards indicating who donated items to the museum. Literally, a good sign! After milling around for a while, I finally ask if they have any information on the Meisigner family.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">“Which Meisinger are you looking for?”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">“Well, John Meisinger, I guess, but LeRoy Meisinger is who I am really interested in finding.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">“LeRoy? Didn’t he die in a balloon accident? Let me show you what we have,” she replies as she walks through the door to the back room. Soon she reappears with several file folders. One contains the entire Meisinger family genealogy. A gold mine…but not the gold I want. She has a small file on LeRoy. Again, another wonderful find, but it contains nothing that I do not already know.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">“This is great, but I was hoping you had something more. See…I went to the Beatrice Library, and I found the transcript of LeRoy’s WWI journal. But that is the only thing—”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">“His journal? Oh, we have that. Let me go get it.” Within minutes she places LeRoy’s original journal down on the table in front of me. I stare at it. I cannot believe it. As tears swell in my eyes, I slowly open the book. First thing I read is his handwritten inscription to his parents:</p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><strong style="word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">To Mama and Dad, </em><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">with love and </em><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">happiest Christmas wishes. </em><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">Dec. 25, 1920 </em><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">from LeRoy</em></strong></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">It is amazing! But wait…the story gets better.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">“About a year ago,” the volunteer continues, “we had a man walk into the museum with this book. He said he found it at an estate sale. Because he thought it looked important, he wanted to donate it to the museum.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;">My ancestor’s journal was saved by a stranger just because he thought it looked important. I do not know who he is, but I want to thank him from the bottom of my heart. And I want to thank the Cass County Historical Society for safe guarding my family treasure.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><img height="112" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/b8cbd3a0-c87b-4b76-a561-c20025c1b633" width="500" /></p><div class="body entry-content" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1661884316112_322" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; margin: 1em 0px;"><div class="sqs-layout sqs-grid-12 columns-12" data-layout-label="Post Body" data-type="item" data-updated-on="1530040382362" id="item-5b328eb58a922db397d4ab79"><div class="row sqs-row" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1661884316112_321" style="margin-left: -17px; margin-right: -17px; position: relative; width: auto !important;"><div class="col sqs-col-12 span-12" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1661884316112_320" style="float: none !important; padding-right: 0px; width: auto !important;"><div class="sqs-block image-block sqs-block-image sqs-text-ready" data-block-type="5" id="block-yui_3_17_2_1_1530040412625_6994" style="clear: both; height: auto; outline: none; padding: 17px; position: relative;"><div class="sqs-block-content" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1661884316112_319"><div class="image-block-outer-wrapper
layout-caption-below
design-layout-inline
sqs-narrow-width" data-test="image-block-inline-outer-wrapper" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1661884316112_318"><figure class="
sqs-block-image-figure
intrinsic
" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1661884316112_317" style="margin: auto; max-width: 940px;"><figcaption class="image-caption-wrapper" style="padding-top: 18px;"><div class="image-caption"><p style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.68em; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Cass County Historical Society Museum in Plattsmouth, Nebraska</p></div></figcaption></figure></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="entry-source" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">Source: <a href="http://www.casscountynemuseum.org/" style="color: #111111; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.casscountynemuseum.org/</a></div><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-38853126899379405012022-08-30T13:31:00.003-05:002022-08-30T13:31:47.872-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - WWI Journal: Leaving Home<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">After three and half months in Lincoln, the Regimental Band is ordered to Deming, New Mexico. Here LeRoy describes the day he left for Deming. It is a touching description of a young man leaving his family for an uncertain future. A sentiment one can assume is felt by all the soldiers leaving for training and then eventually to war.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">September Fourteenth (1917)</em></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">Some of the companies of the Sixth were to train before us, and it was our solemn duty to parade down O Street and escort them to the station, where they entrained for Deming.</em></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">Our minutes at home could not be counted. We were excused until eleven forty-five, so we drove home, and ate my last little lunch at home. As much as one dislikes to do it, the goodbye must be said, when one goes away. It was harder, I am sure, on the home folks for us to leave than it was for us. We all felt somehow that we were obeying them proper impulse, and in spite of the fact that we hated to go – we went.</em></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">The whistle blew, and we were off, down O Street on our last march in Lincoln. There were several hundred people at the station. Mama and Papa were there, but they left before the train in order that they might see us pass North Thirty-Third Street. While it was a hard farewell, the tug at the heart strings was far harder when the train passed my parents at Thirty-Third Street; Mama was sadly waving – almost automatically – a small silk flag I had given her, and Dad stood staring at the train, and stiffly waving his hat.</em></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-92039667693196177512022-08-30T13:30:00.003-05:002022-08-30T14:01:19.000-05:00Wordless Wednesday - LeRoy’s Journal Dedication <p> <span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;">LeRoy’s Journal Dedication</span></p><p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBE1-vx1mfCjPvs7mKv1F9wwWVErlfxnuV5WlR8KunA5k91sT_BCWl7w_rJc_Tt-vAfT3d0GocauuleZRbWYPP6ewdY1x8mJcUjTV8Xug_RVn71vQ2e4Xr8NTC3nFVvNhjf7Cl4n6_fF_pSYW6OBSGjGckL9nVvhTH-k3eC0b-w2LmElXwAzXBK_I/s667/FA7E5133-9FBF-47F1-A1D3-9511B92494F4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBE1-vx1mfCjPvs7mKv1F9wwWVErlfxnuV5WlR8KunA5k91sT_BCWl7w_rJc_Tt-vAfT3d0GocauuleZRbWYPP6ewdY1x8mJcUjTV8Xug_RVn71vQ2e4Xr8NTC3nFVvNhjf7Cl4n6_fF_pSYW6OBSGjGckL9nVvhTH-k3eC0b-w2LmElXwAzXBK_I/s320/FA7E5133-9FBF-47F1-A1D3-9511B92494F4.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-20614134095901131552022-08-30T13:29:00.001-05:002022-08-30T14:00:42.870-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - Arriving Camp Deming, NM: WWI Journal Entries Dated 17-18 September 1917<p> <span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;">“Just out of El Paso we were temporarily delayed by a landslide but passing that we sailed merrily along for Deming. The day was cloudy and occasionally did the sun break thru. There were detached mountain ranges all about, but, in the immediate vicinity of the train, the land was flat and sandy, covered with cactus, horned-toads, tarantulas, and here and there a transient Mexican family seated about a camp fire beside their covered wagon.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">At five o’clock the trained pulled into Deming. A fine mist was blowing and the sky was gray. We were forbidden to leave the train, but we could see out the window, extending off to the north lines of tents and rows of wooden mess shacks - almost as far as the eye could reach. In the distance long lines of motor trucks were to be seen; and as the train came to a stop the motors began to purr and move forward. They traveled at high speed across the soft red sand and soon were unloading our baggage. In due time we left the train and marched for a mile and a half to our headquarters. It was getting dark when the trucks began to unload their cargo of boxes, trunks and so forth.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">As very often happens, a mistake was made, which resulted in all our baggage being left at the wrong company street; the solution was simply to move it all by hand. And even the sergeants worked! Fortunately, I rescued all my goods from the chaos.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">It was raining, and almost dark, when we discovered that only three tents had been set up to accommodate a company of approximately sixty. These were intended for the regimental staff, the supply sergeant and the band director. But we went together, and those who couldn’t get into one of these three tents, slept on the tables in the mess shack. In Barry’s tent, where I slept, there was the Chief and Principle Musicians, two sergeants, three corporals and two privates.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;">After we had all our equipment in the tents, piled about the center pole and our cots set up (see picture attached for Ernest Harrison) Harrison, Max Bixby and I set out to find a pie, some photo supplies, and a telegraph office, respectively. It was very dark and little puddles of water were all about. There was no light save the glare of the lights on passing autos, and the weird glow of the incinerators. For two miles we walked stepping into water frequently. Finally, we reached the station where I forwarded my telegram.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="background-color: #fcfcfc; font-size: 12px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCkskgMt0k7PJMo9uo4K2fPxaW-WUW80ZM5kOk3R0y7rA9dm8cmTqHqLv7eybWiZ4YPt07IV6NXAY9R4cwE9v3DIrBbss7wi3ALqSP3Yl9atuHGLTpxR9H5TaHODxmVEvmbVZbu2PdZqwtqTV1TNfXSARGwUKaA8umsvd3R-JLSERpSd4C3qO35HJ/s752/CD130598-4DD0-4411-AE91-78D88D332E49.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="459" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCkskgMt0k7PJMo9uo4K2fPxaW-WUW80ZM5kOk3R0y7rA9dm8cmTqHqLv7eybWiZ4YPt07IV6NXAY9R4cwE9v3DIrBbss7wi3ALqSP3Yl9atuHGLTpxR9H5TaHODxmVEvmbVZbu2PdZqwtqTV1TNfXSARGwUKaA8umsvd3R-JLSERpSd4C3qO35HJ/s320/CD130598-4DD0-4411-AE91-78D88D332E49.jpeg" width="195" /></a></div><br />LeRoy's friend, Ernest Harrison.<p></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="background-color: #fcfcfc; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">Next, we strolled up the main street of Deming. In general appearance, Deming is like any other small town except that a romantic color is added by the soldiers and Mexicans, both of which appear in great profusion. The streets had the appearance of a foreign bazaar. We went up one side and down the other, found some excellent malted milks and pies, then started home.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">The road that was two miles up was four miles back. Once I stepped into water up to my knee, which seemed to appeal to the odd sense of humor that my companions possessed. It was pitch dark and muddy. The stars were beginning to break thru the clouds, which gave us hope for a bright morrow. At last, we were home, and tired enough to turn in for our first cool night in Camp Cody.”</p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;">* * *</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">“We arose at five o’clock after a very cool night. But that was soon forgotten in the beauty of the sunrise. The sun was breaking thru the clouds, happily revealing the Florida mountains to the southeast, the Tres Hermana to the south and a range to the north. They are going to be good friends to us. Sometimes their heads are in the clouds and others they stand out brilliantly in the morning sun.”</p><blockquote style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; border-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px 0px 0px 1px; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; margin: 1em 0px 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;">Special thank you to Michael Kromeke for the picture of Ernest Harrison. Check out Michael's website for more amazing pictures from Camp Cody during WWI: <a href="https://campcodydeming.wordpress.com/" style="border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: rgba(17, 17, 17, 0.2); color: #111111; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;">https://campcodydeming.wordpress.com/</a></blockquote><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="background-color: #fcfcfc; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="background-color: #fcfcfc; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-2167724137318662762022-08-30T13:23:00.003-05:002022-08-30T13:23:44.372-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - War Diary<p> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px;">I found LeRoy's WWI diary! But more about that later... For now here is the first entry:</span></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">IX</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">Ante-Bellum Preface</em></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">I am beginning a diary of my service in the army. It may be very short; or it may cover many pages. But, from the situation at present, it looks as if it might be a long one. A few months ago we did not dream for a moment that the European conflagration might sweep our shores. But now, we are a part of it; and if the developing program of war is carried out, our men will be swarming the shores of France, carrying Democracy across the Atlantic.</em></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">And it is my privilege to be a part in this war of righteousness! A small part, to be sure, but a part. And no matter, if it shall be accorded me no greater service that that which can be rendered as a private or musician in the band. If I do that as well as I can. I will be entitled to be proud that I was a part of the Great War.</em></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">I have enlisted with a group of my friends in an organization which, I believe, offers me the opportunities for the best service, but what will it lead to is useless to guess, for there are no more uncertain quantities than the fortunes of war.</em></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">But the diary! Will it be worth while? And why am I starting it? To the first question, I can only hope for an answer. I will be one of millions, and my story will very likely contain no harrowing tales of danger nor deeds of bravery. Indeed, it will likely contain no different story than a hundred thousand other diaries being started at this moment. But if no more, it will serve its purpose in the answer to my second question. I am starting it, primarily that I may send it home in loose leaf form to my parents, and those to whom they may choose to read it.</em></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">I will endeavor to be fair and tell things as they really happen, in order that the whole may be a true account of my experiences - interesting or commonplace, as the case may be. If it is interesting, perhaps it will be worth preserving, if commonplace its immediate purpose justifies it.</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">So here goes, my diary!</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">June 3, 1917 C.L.M.</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">TO MY PARENTS</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">For whom</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">Each day of my Service bespeaks</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">a greater Sacrifice</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px 0px 1em; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">than I could have been called upon to make,</em></p><p class="text-align-center" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.8em; margin: 0px; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;"><em style="word-wrap: break-word;">THIS DIARY IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED</em></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-60984554718705716642022-08-30T13:21:00.003-05:002022-08-30T13:59:50.171-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - A Man at Work<p> <span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;">This blog is all about a fascinating and amazing man, Clarence LeRoy Meisinger. LeRoy was my grandfather's cousin...but more about that later. This is a picture of LeRoy at work. He is the man in the center looking at the camera and wearing a cap. ((Not just a cap, it is also known as a </span><em style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-family: proxima-nova; font-size: 15px; word-wrap: break-word;">flat cap, cabbie cap, gatsby cap, longshoreman's cap, cloth cap, scally cap, Wigens cap, ivy cap, derby hat, jeff cap, duffer cap, duckbill cap, driving cap, bicycle cap, Irish cap, newsboy cap, crook cap, Vergon hat, Joao's hat, sixpence, or a paddy cap, and in regional varieties: in Scotland as a bunnet, in Wales as a Dai cap, and in New Zealand, as a cheese-cutter</em><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;">...per wikipedia.))</span></p><p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;">So...any clue about his profession?</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-kjCNsHrTwVWjzi8dvojhR0aPfcL0jJK-_BvQBAH-gyebGvBeIQ4ivDvOLA0XSvNV-JfFxTyuGpoEDfJoYGWV8b7eISmKOtL-27XM-spWibHJHRO7m08oXTUmoBo5AufQrTqathcxPZySVZ8yg-HTf_w1NhYbOITYsk8fumz1ur6hoAm8wMLWmYL/s500/57519B63-A461-44EE-A7CB-FF15E3044FDE.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="500" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-kjCNsHrTwVWjzi8dvojhR0aPfcL0jJK-_BvQBAH-gyebGvBeIQ4ivDvOLA0XSvNV-JfFxTyuGpoEDfJoYGWV8b7eISmKOtL-27XM-spWibHJHRO7m08oXTUmoBo5AufQrTqathcxPZySVZ8yg-HTf_w1NhYbOITYsk8fumz1ur6hoAm8wMLWmYL/s320/57519B63-A461-44EE-A7CB-FF15E3044FDE.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-10399735557788073352022-08-30T13:19:00.004-05:002022-08-30T13:59:02.563-05:00LeRoy Meisinger - Family Life<p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;">LeRoy and his wife, Helen Hilton Meisinger. My guess this picture was taken around the time of their engagement or marriage. Isn't she beautiful!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrj6N_XkR5fe__EeOdSjBWS4CXxz0PZM9Ul-xMqcOBQF4tr4H213SRXr4mElQMlyN6prcFpf6Dtt5gI_jNer7jdfwzL1fstlkTuOPL-l1NK_2-bwlcSIvgt6bjztSFcSPXRnGMwPxPdx2TAp-anLx0AQ8z6ZbZNOHGhm3D0l5k56tDgdlS-U5oEFOl/s500/A4407F56-8879-48FA-9B7B-1CCD988E8D04.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrj6N_XkR5fe__EeOdSjBWS4CXxz0PZM9Ul-xMqcOBQF4tr4H213SRXr4mElQMlyN6prcFpf6Dtt5gI_jNer7jdfwzL1fstlkTuOPL-l1NK_2-bwlcSIvgt6bjztSFcSPXRnGMwPxPdx2TAp-anLx0AQ8z6ZbZNOHGhm3D0l5k56tDgdlS-U5oEFOl/s320/A4407F56-8879-48FA-9B7B-1CCD988E8D04.jpeg" width="209" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02-Kj2e5oV_fPeG8D59KYmpHs5vi0y_l9bzQxdsdM1MJuYy1my9DTh1b8k5cO1HJg4pB4Z0nGLpANk55S88UicDp8s8kamXNGJv31A54ubQ_NkLC1C3KLBDkYMPxpxZV3azzCIdkqbnhlDo-dwvulbyHHxN8cJBwWWk1ueNoPei1JbBsX2r4GoomF/s500/021DFECB-55B0-44C6-B9C9-E9512FB29234.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="319" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02-Kj2e5oV_fPeG8D59KYmpHs5vi0y_l9bzQxdsdM1MJuYy1my9DTh1b8k5cO1HJg4pB4Z0nGLpANk55S88UicDp8s8kamXNGJv31A54ubQ_NkLC1C3KLBDkYMPxpxZV3azzCIdkqbnhlDo-dwvulbyHHxN8cJBwWWk1ueNoPei1JbBsX2r4GoomF/s320/021DFECB-55B0-44C6-B9C9-E9512FB29234.jpeg" width="204" /></a></div><br /><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><span face="proxima-nova" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: #fcfcfc; caret-color: rgb(12, 34, 131); color: #0c2283; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-9950828251139343982015-08-26T14:26:00.000-05:002015-08-26T14:26:01.661-05:00Wordless Wednesday: Twins? Nope! My Mom and I <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-76451703204550474962015-08-04T17:33:00.001-05:002015-08-04T22:29:17.301-05:00Tombstone Tuesday: Silk Family...From Chicago to Florida to South
Carolina<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">SILK</div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">John</div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">1833-1907<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1i-09JQPyNyI8wIXBkAnRdq7lvUhFLYrCfoKQ0ap0cuAPqKR2IdtKAqcEh8N8tPdrxnHreM0lzGcHjGGmdTGVzoj0nOTkShhDM5r9rk4kpqN687qJq7AP5pP4uKK05sSguDhItlodXuc/s640/blogger-image--974970301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">Anna</div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;">1830-1917</div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1i-09JQPyNyI8wIXBkAnRdq7lvUhFLYrCfoKQ0ap0cuAPqKR2IdtKAqcEh8N8tPdrxnHreM0lzGcHjGGmdTGVzoj0nOTkShhDM5r9rk4kpqN687qJq7AP5pP4uKK05sSguDhItlodXuc/s640/blogger-image--974970301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br></a></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1i-09JQPyNyI8wIXBkAnRdq7lvUhFLYrCfoKQ0ap0cuAPqKR2IdtKAqcEh8N8tPdrxnHreM0lzGcHjGGmdTGVzoj0nOTkShhDM5r9rk4kpqN687qJq7AP5pP4uKK05sSguDhItlodXuc/s640/blogger-image--974970301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieNz2Tyt3ntTcQ0eY1H1W0fElmHGhB3PRM__xrx9aX1ntAWJ6HUiHXWtC6yS4tktws5yKftQLTZ3b3ue61KXdstlu2jLHPV2V_Q26Yzo3Ox_X-_Hcfs3UEjKDeXS-etU3dXgfOAgtn76A/s640/blogger-image--425762480.jpg"></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1i-09JQPyNyI8wIXBkAnRdq7lvUhFLYrCfoKQ0ap0cuAPqKR2IdtKAqcEh8N8tPdrxnHreM0lzGcHjGGmdTGVzoj0nOTkShhDM5r9rk4kpqN687qJq7AP5pP4uKK05sSguDhItlodXuc/s640/blogger-image--974970301.jpg"></a></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQewYTPs48dBKgwgsUhrnHD0zRYNQZyVze6IZMxeUj2aB0QfF2Ui5jjD0dJDA3tN4PnWyHBANvyTHxlsW0bAcIlkGzp33PARIwxQhILajdpjgzDAaM5YFY6J1WQMg3p9h-E2gDZrp6UnQ/s640/blogger-image--401375862.jpg" imageanchor="1"><br><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQewYTPs48dBKgwgsUhrnHD0zRYNQZyVze6IZMxeUj2aB0QfF2Ui5jjD0dJDA3tN4PnWyHBANvyTHxlsW0bAcIlkGzp33PARIwxQhILajdpjgzDAaM5YFY6J1WQMg3p9h-E2gDZrp6UnQ/s640/blogger-image--401375862.jpg"></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu8-cwGC29-tCatVmNzk3Qe1JCR4ohg8YEx3mUPGR96XICSNp4CWOBvLpGTWDJKpMdMx8WqbkVp1TgV2KXvnXBwyiQDDyoxTorQgRpN9Z9yHYx7U9X3JsG26-HhT09fzjkx8mzErn9yU/s640/blogger-image--1595607543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu8-cwGC29-tCatVmNzk3Qe1JCR4ohg8YEx3mUPGR96XICSNp4CWOBvLpGTWDJKpMdMx8WqbkVp1TgV2KXvnXBwyiQDDyoxTorQgRpN9Z9yHYx7U9X3JsG26-HhT09fzjkx8mzErn9yU/s640/blogger-image--1595607543.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU5VnGo6MWkc-fqQ2X00krxcaJ0ybjRCKgOlXhJUfoRbcuKLK9eElJsAWMhTUCyPsPZWZiQ4swAjk7Lv8vR6MlAkdZRuJEtE0GTZQvQxAqdnTcgGbaIpWEgAxeSNSnCY0w40OLNEw5lxM/s640/blogger-image-301329223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU5VnGo6MWkc-fqQ2X00krxcaJ0ybjRCKgOlXhJUfoRbcuKLK9eElJsAWMhTUCyPsPZWZiQ4swAjk7Lv8vR6MlAkdZRuJEtE0GTZQvQxAqdnTcgGbaIpWEgAxeSNSnCY0w40OLNEw5lxM/s640/blogger-image-301329223.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Clarence Arthur Silk</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">5 Dec 1906 in Chicago, Illinois </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">5 Oct 1979 in Boca Raton, Florida</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pearl Evelyn Jensen Silk</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">5 May 1906 in Manistee,Michigan</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">3 Sep 1987 in Charleston, South Carolina</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> </div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-26816773365478042742015-08-01T01:08:00.001-05:002015-08-01T01:13:09.939-05:00Sports Center Saturday: My Mom the Majorette "We were much cooler than
cheerleaders"<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">My mom as the Co-Captain of the Majorettes her senior year at Washington & Lee High School in Arlington, VA. Here is the caption from the yearbook:</span></div><div><br></div><div>High Stepping Twirlers Parade at All-Star Bout</div><div><br></div><div>State Champion Twirler Anne Pierce led the largest group of majorettes in several years as they brandished their flags and fire torches at featured events during the year. By special invitation, they appeared with the marching band at the first U. S. College All'Star Game and the opening of District Stadium, executing several precision drills to the martial tunes of the band.</div><div><br></div><div>Pint-sised addition to the majorettes, Elaine Pierce served as team mascot. She came to the group at the beginning of the year and performed in many of their routines.</div><div><br></div><div>By request the girls also appeared in the annual George Washington parade at Alexandria. As a tangible reward for their baton twirling at school affairs, the majorettes received recognition at the sports banquet in the early part of November.</div><div><br></div><div>Flagbearing majorettes, Co'Captain <b>Sharon Sauls</b> and Captain Anne Pierce, strut across the field during a practice session.</div><div><br></div><div>(Mom is the beauty on the left!)</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ll-H7lehXH24ub02CqiG8T6h0GZ6ZPNvdH3giA0Jm59Fvixxc3UnovPvwlQ6LWSpLfj7Vq05bsRU-ETQBxe7OlA5_RSPmUsmvxNqiKvInLeVCFQB-ZZu44f8iyviR6uXpoCeu-_TGOE/s640/blogger-image--963537185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ll-H7lehXH24ub02CqiG8T6h0GZ6ZPNvdH3giA0Jm59Fvixxc3UnovPvwlQ6LWSpLfj7Vq05bsRU-ETQBxe7OlA5_RSPmUsmvxNqiKvInLeVCFQB-ZZu44f8iyviR6uXpoCeu-_TGOE/s640/blogger-image--963537185.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-84857574653926326882013-09-24T11:39:00.003-05:002015-06-21T18:30:16.656-05:00C. LeRoy Meisinger: Oh the Places He Went! Part II<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD4Hhs2wEItqlFKGzvcmeoPWZHk2-Y6-wFgRS1J9cMjAOtiFEvuz48mDMTmFNOxdFqCTENSOX2dvEjvfYxbzqpmUBmr5ENOQ6TUmqAxFocBVQlxCHrz0Uhpj6PUJlc0jRww1D0jM9FtUc/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD4Hhs2wEItqlFKGzvcmeoPWZHk2-Y6-wFgRS1J9cMjAOtiFEvuz48mDMTmFNOxdFqCTENSOX2dvEjvfYxbzqpmUBmr5ENOQ6TUmqAxFocBVQlxCHrz0Uhpj6PUJlc0jRww1D0jM9FtUc/s320/image.jpg" width="208"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">C. LeRoy Meisinger</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the last post, I asked if anyone could tell me what was Leroy's profession...hoping the image of a hot air balloon would stir up some interesting answers.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">LeRoy's life was more fascinating than anything found in fiction. He worked as a Meteorologist for the U.S. Weather Bureau. In 1924, he conducted several experiments in a manned free balloon...which, I believe, made him the world's first Storm Chaser.</span><br>
<br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-35142022228076470982013-08-15T17:38:00.000-05:002015-06-21T18:31:06.121-05:00Those Places Thursday / C. LeRoy Meisinger: Oh the Places He Went<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am going to be starting a series of blog posts (and maybe one day something more than that) about my Grandfather's cousin, C. LeRoy Meisinger. Any clue as to what his profession was from this picture?</span><br>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-4143054539938088172012-12-01T19:44:00.000-06:002012-12-01T19:44:20.107-06:00Advent Calendar - Christmas Tree<br />
One Christmas...I was about 15...my parents thought it would be a wonderful idea to have a real tree. And by real tree I mean a live tree...a tree that would be beautiful - fresh, green, have that pine smell...and have a blob of dirt and roots the size of a VW Beetle! Ok not really...but it was pretty dang big! I wish I had a picture of my mom's face when my dad brought the tree into our house through the sliding glass door in a wheelbarrow.<br />
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Mom draped a sheet over the ball of dirt and the wheelbarrow, and we decorated. The tree was beautiful and green and smelled fresh. It was a wonderful tree, and we enjoyed our tree all Christmas season...all five days...<br />
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See the great thing about having a live tree is also the worse thing... On Christmas Day...after all the presents have been unwrapped....my Dad and Uncle wheeled the tree back through the sliding glass door...dig a hole in our yard...and plant the tree...my mom vacuuming the dirt away as my aunt takes the sheet to the laundry.<br />
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So there was our Christmas tree on Christmas Day, in our yard...some tinsel still clinging to the branches blowing in the cold December wind...enjoying the sunshine.<br />
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Merry Christmas!<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-71534314780678075292012-11-14T18:35:00.001-06:002012-11-14T18:35:08.740-06:00Workday Wednesday: George Silk making a delivery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3yj5rh5b5jjW_3H17skie2V1oxqW3PZiIDbW_ekm0L7ZvqQr0ehBvTjJQ6yCXTTwpCbeU9rwHkveW9hhW2Bl6yEkbQq5wlFDhQv5VPstnUl5nF6O-i8eqrvtO-bB99KoKNFsHq2FkbQ/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3yj5rh5b5jjW_3H17skie2V1oxqW3PZiIDbW_ekm0L7ZvqQr0ehBvTjJQ6yCXTTwpCbeU9rwHkveW9hhW2Bl6yEkbQq5wlFDhQv5VPstnUl5nF6O-i8eqrvtO-bB99KoKNFsHq2FkbQ/s320/image.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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George Silk delivering construction materials</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-30593194062452433642011-10-13T19:38:00.000-05:002015-08-26T14:06:07.054-05:00Treasure Chest Thursday - Capt. Drew<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjOm7JIwlF_trvsfRFN7py-oPFG7BS7-jHDOYR8m8DxAuZ4ByE-E4phuDP_DW_CESXiPRCiEzvqfr7VOMB5ajhk7eu6xqDwgLTtbV6KN61VEa7QjeJQfb3KQ3MjoEpNXFtBMv8m4CdR4/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjOm7JIwlF_trvsfRFN7py-oPFG7BS7-jHDOYR8m8DxAuZ4ByE-E4phuDP_DW_CESXiPRCiEzvqfr7VOMB5ajhk7eu6xqDwgLTtbV6KN61VEa7QjeJQfb3KQ3MjoEpNXFtBMv8m4CdR4/s200/photo.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capt. Drew</td></tr>
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Ok, I may be tweaking today's theme just a little, but this is a treasure for me. I took this picture of my son, Drew, on his way to school. This week is spirit week at school, and today is Pirate day. Clearly Drew is a treasure, but his costume contains a few items that I hope will be future treasures:<br />
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1) His Hat - we got that hat at Disney World when Drew was just three or four. He has always loved pirates and swords. When he was a toddler he always preferred a sword, gun, or broomstick to any other toy.<br />
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2) My High School Class Ring - he is wearing it as part of his pirate bling. He said he wouldn't loose it.<br />
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3) His Hair - I know that is a strange treasure - mostly parents save a lock after a child's first haircut. But Drew is growing his hair to donate to the Locks of Love. <a href="http://www.locksoflove.org/">www.locksoflove.org</a> <br />
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So this is a moment it time in my son's life. A moment I treasure!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-65481329746269466692010-10-24T11:06:00.001-05:002010-10-24T11:12:06.830-05:00Church Record Sunday - 1928 Certificate of Promotion<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_WZWv9InhJOkIQ2Dz6KZsJ7Mp2V2GgfOPq-utYi2x3i0PvT8sNbJCbfinurLyoWKONl6JuunAHeBZKYUZNFwjsEUaYv19hKnKhEgk6q2PeCU9NdD6vG18AsP5jb99MspdJgnJtXSoWk/s1600/img076.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1928 Certificate of Promotion for my husband's grandmother, Mary L. Ogburn</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_WZWv9InhJOkIQ2Dz6KZsJ7Mp2V2GgfOPq-utYi2x3i0PvT8sNbJCbfinurLyoWKONl6JuunAHeBZKYUZNFwjsEUaYv19hKnKhEgk6q2PeCU9NdD6vG18AsP5jb99MspdJgnJtXSoWk/s1600/img076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-24161658176255914092010-10-17T11:39:00.004-05:002010-10-21T13:13:58.619-05:00Sentimetal Sunday: My Grandpa's PoemIn my stack of stuff, I have this little treasure. It is a poem written by my Grandfather (Nov. 18, 1977). Now I never imagined that my grandfather wrote poetry, but my uncle says that he did many surprising things like write this poem. So knowing he held this same paper and wrote these words brings me closer to him. When I read it, I can picture my grandpa taking my 9 year old son's hand, who he never had a chance to meet, and telling him stories about life. Here is the poem:<br />
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To a Little Boy from an Old Man<br />
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At a friends home I happen to see<br />
A photo of a little boy, who is unknown to me<br />
I studied the picture, then I could see<br />
The beautiful features of the boy, who is unknown to me<br />
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My mind wandered back, I wished to be<br />
The age of this boy, who is unknown to me<br />
Mother Nature said, No, that is not for thee<br />
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I asked the little boy, let me take your hand<br />
Come along with me. I will show you our great land<br />
We will travel far, we will sit by the sea<br />
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As we journey on, I will tell you about life<br />
And what is to be<br />
The hardships, the pleasures, the work and the strife<br />
All this will be part of your life<br />
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Be honest, be strong above all be a man<br />
Then I am sure, you will see<br />
What a wonderful life this can be.<br />
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All my love to the little boy<br />
Who is unknown to me<br />
<br />
Clarence Silk<br />
The Old ManUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6865916431187515987.post-13949827324367061362010-10-14T13:54:00.002-05:002010-10-14T14:01:33.012-05:00Treasure Chest Thursday - 1897 I.O.U. for "Oxens"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyP4vDk499rIFpFiz6jxFf42rT04w7PNNQhjrX6tIo64T5WonGbDNefZszAN6yZT1Krjg8fXJCqe2K9v5iGdffYrZZoeEZb2-25sx879IlDJETMTqFEP2t-eg2cQlHlVyUW6YE-nqpzU/s1600/Oxen.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An original document I have in my treasure chest: 1897 promissory note for "One Team of Oxens"</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyP4vDk499rIFpFiz6jxFf42rT04w7PNNQhjrX6tIo64T5WonGbDNefZszAN6yZT1Krjg8fXJCqe2K9v5iGdffYrZZoeEZb2-25sx879IlDJETMTqFEP2t-eg2cQlHlVyUW6YE-nqpzU/s1600/Oxen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0