tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39012862248870514342024-02-07T16:44:19.829-08:00City Girl in a Writer's WorldI'm a city girl who enjoys writing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-69011588925774197852014-03-02T12:02:00.001-08:002014-09-20T22:17:55.440-07:00March 2014, Photo of the Month<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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73RkpnTMUrN1FPsSbuMHgwJXpVmVN0qSgKYHA4Ephr4FU51ZuyZXBAuq8RK_aGDAkWk_6PlfmBLDLWJ1m0qappQJdS835NmcvCk-E9xOrPf0O1TpJtTBtsJl-S_ZhItAytl4zZXYTmKA/s1600/Esquire+Jan+1959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73RkpnTMUrN1FPsSbuMHgwJXpVmVN0qSgKYHA4Ephr4FU51ZuyZXBAuq8RK_aGDAkWk_6PlfmBLDLWJ1m0qappQJdS835NmcvCk-E9xOrPf0O1TpJtTBtsJl-S_ZhItAytl4zZXYTmKA/s1600/Esquire+Jan+1959.jpg" height="400" width="322" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Esquire Magazine, January 1959</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi75e2viecXl_jGizm_oAvcmVR-Sbwvjwp3VoFcli-skq7c1nSKZrqmvK44OLc4sVc3JVMbLe0b6VgrCjMSir7vO7z1FV1y6ec_z1cUTS5y3ZNBYm0GNo0C1wNZEgjf5JgQ0KJzWtM6KPA/s1600/Esquire+jazz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi75e2viecXl_jGizm_oAvcmVR-Sbwvjwp3VoFcli-skq7c1nSKZrqmvK44OLc4sVc3JVMbLe0b6VgrCjMSir7vO7z1FV1y6ec_z1cUTS5y3ZNBYm0GNo0C1wNZEgjf5JgQ0KJzWtM6KPA/s1600/Esquire+jazz.jpg" height="247" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Esquire's 1959 photo by Art Kane</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In January 1959, Esquire Magazine published an all jazz issue. In the magazine was an article on the golden age of jazz and this photograph taken by visionary art director Art Kane. It is a classic photograph that captures four decades of 57 jazz musicians standing on a stoop in front of a brownstone in Harlem, New York. In later years, Jean Bach created a documentary, "A Great Day in Harlem" released in 1994 about this jazzy day in Harlem, New York.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: x-small;"></span><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLroIuBr-GUhL1jrUazcGM1Sb0GtlaFE3JqxaUrWAz4-1pcSnNHCVsw9RKZHJBK2cDxa8LIgBBEygXSlIScTBipAVL9HYBzdX-JYab910MpsXmxnQJ6A8C52jZMlchlyoUPl8zXO9Sxc/s1600/jean+bach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLroIuBr-GUhL1jrUazcGM1Sb0GtlaFE3JqxaUrWAz4-1pcSnNHCVsw9RKZHJBK2cDxa8LIgBBEygXSlIScTBipAVL9HYBzdX-JYab910MpsXmxnQJ6A8C52jZMlchlyoUPl8zXO9Sxc/s1600/jean+bach.jpg" height="400" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jean Bach's documentary ad</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-48679774646678888652014-02-15T22:19:00.003-08:002014-09-20T19:26:26.599-07:00Sepia Saturday - The Crowd<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCe8XFFkJihY44boNMbgPtL-EC-3BMxhl8YvWh21TiVN1yTXaNMu7kpFRUu_BTB03y-1_KtvNsjT1WY5zbGckpNzCgsdpQz-koy6WwmNGycyo03-N5lxmq2dMFxidnXG3fIdwJEQFL1I/s1600/2014_01W_40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCe8XFFkJihY44boNMbgPtL-EC-3BMxhl8YvWh21TiVN1yTXaNMu7kpFRUu_BTB03y-1_KtvNsjT1WY5zbGckpNzCgsdpQz-koy6WwmNGycyo03-N5lxmq2dMFxidnXG3fIdwJEQFL1I/s1600/2014_01W_40.jpg" height="128" width="320" /></a></div>
Sepia Saturday<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gHfqLUdyYxYzQkcfs5lnx-Q35sSaH7i58pGippPb6iKVDfJd_lA3qMJ7HyJXlzk0kJgBNzXR20uOo3VICZP6fr-R_esacvjzJYeaDC9w3whAWW4qhms1HpAQRv0_fdPdzKeLGK2aHEo/s1600/martin_luther_king19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gHfqLUdyYxYzQkcfs5lnx-Q35sSaH7i58pGippPb6iKVDfJd_lA3qMJ7HyJXlzk0kJgBNzXR20uOo3VICZP6fr-R_esacvjzJYeaDC9w3whAWW4qhms1HpAQRv0_fdPdzKeLGK2aHEo/s1600/martin_luther_king19.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chicago Freedom March, 1963</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In celebration of Black History Month, I selected this photo of "the crowd" in Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois. This photo was taken on July 4, 1963, during the Chicago Freedom March era. The rally was part of a larger six day NAACP Convention which began in the city on July 1, 1963. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Mayor Richard J. Daley led the march through the city, down State Street, and to the rally in Grant Park.</span></span></div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span><br />
<br />
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVIxHOqWlddNjn2-b9R7J_thIimpvcskinN5ZmYIlveng3_oLa-RwShU2ilmU72ze7YbAN_xs8WrnjYFZuk2uBshmNWJvql9gvWtiMgvn3oZ8ikoHaOivvsCaTkRkr8Bj4Hlx8KHGEOY/s1600/March.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTVIxHOqWlddNjn2-b9R7J_thIimpvcskinN5ZmYIlveng3_oLa-RwShU2ilmU72ze7YbAN_xs8WrnjYFZuk2uBshmNWJvql9gvWtiMgvn3oZ8ikoHaOivvsCaTkRkr8Bj4Hlx8KHGEOY/s1600/March.jpg" height="400" width="321" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">March down State Street, Chicago Tribune Collection, 1963</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span>
<br />
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">At the rally, Myrlie Evers the wife of slain civil rights' leader Medgar Evers received the NAACP's 48th Spingarn Medal posthumously for her husband's outstanding leadership. Mayor Daley opened the rally with a welcome address but was quickly booed off the stage by the crowd who did not favor his political policies. Forty-five years later President Obama's election night rally was held in the same location. As long-time residents of Chicago, my family has very fond memories of both events.</span></div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2ohJLds6UMgqIS5XwizmHaY5Y3qN6KeVW9Az-7sxKW7RLWPC3qEZ5hVNeE0Cf9fzW6rRqivQr5u-haWCxgGIdLL_1CENwGBf7VoBZ2uPDb7ymepqR9WiEZeO0EJoYaYUooFEwxs12sQ/s1600/newspapper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: small;">Seattle Daily Times, July 4, 1963, page 4</span></a></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2ohJLds6UMgqIS5XwizmHaY5Y3qN6KeVW9Az-7sxKW7RLWPC3qEZ5hVNeE0Cf9fzW6rRqivQr5u-haWCxgGIdLL_1CENwGBf7VoBZ2uPDb7ymepqR9WiEZeO0EJoYaYUooFEwxs12sQ/s1600/newspapper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2ohJLds6UMgqIS5XwizmHaY5Y3qN6KeVW9Az-7sxKW7RLWPC3qEZ5hVNeE0Cf9fzW6rRqivQr5u-haWCxgGIdLL_1CENwGBf7VoBZ2uPDb7ymepqR9WiEZeO0EJoYaYUooFEwxs12sQ/s1600/newspapper.jpg" height="640" width="372" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Please visit <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sepia Saturday</a> to see other amazing photo-posts.</span> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-19134604215904666702014-02-06T04:07:00.001-08:002014-09-20T22:21:31.198-07:00February 2014, Photo of the Month<br />
<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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSqaE4XkF34gEPdE6CsC4Lv4hWiRdbF4OtV4-G1kRCwNVpjfh40xZgxTEfGFKiQ9VGwh8mQlDxikOjkNUS_RkyOebWdkyqNEDK1IemvHoXYn47rgFTYpbmBwb-5YwbbSr1bJeqCYRpQLg/s1600/0a3d109a8832c57da0604aa1e989dc38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSqaE4XkF34gEPdE6CsC4Lv4hWiRdbF4OtV4-G1kRCwNVpjfh40xZgxTEfGFKiQ9VGwh8mQlDxikOjkNUS_RkyOebWdkyqNEDK1IemvHoXYn47rgFTYpbmBwb-5YwbbSr1bJeqCYRpQLg/s1600/0a3d109a8832c57da0604aa1e989dc38.jpg" height="262" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">African American Women, 1940's<br />
photographer unknown</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-65294277543281976822014-02-04T03:56:00.002-08:002014-09-21T20:42:40.343-07:00The Wheelers - Part III<h3>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm writing my family history story Feb 1-28, 2014 </span><a href="http://www.familyhistorywritingchallenge.com/"><span style="font-size: small;">Family History Writing Challenge</span></a></span></h3>
<h3>
<br /><a href="http://www.familyhistorywritingchallenge.com/"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"></span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.familyhistorywritingchallenge.com/"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuqHkx_09B8qlRmHxtLDXMkDHUuIC_OcMUbSB7G1MYpbXnYyoPgdDuRXeOMGCYolptZfnhkfa1Jj3MyD0fTT_AbSQlz3Q4SgM-JeGPveket5PL4_oDZnvc82l9saPbgI3-7fpHhDb0kQ/s1600/FHWC14+-290p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuqHkx_09B8qlRmHxtLDXMkDHUuIC_OcMUbSB7G1MYpbXnYyoPgdDuRXeOMGCYolptZfnhkfa1Jj3MyD0fTT_AbSQlz3Q4SgM-JeGPveket5PL4_oDZnvc82l9saPbgI3-7fpHhDb0kQ/s1600/FHWC14+-290p.jpg" height="400" width="296" /></a></div>
</span></h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elijah crawled up on his lap and
Uncle Rex began to tell their story. She was a soldier and they called her "Griff" which was short for Griffin. She served 12 months in Operation Iraqi Freedom. Rex pointed to the coffee table where there
was a photo of her receiving an award in her dress uniform. She was in the U.S. Army and came from a long
ancestral line of fellow soldiers. Her
three times great grandfather Isaac was born a slave circa 1839 in
Chattooga County, Georgia. When he
turned 18 years old he escaped and became a fugitive slave. His owner placed a bounty on his head because he was a skilled blacksmith and was worth every penny of $6,800. Escaping slavery wasn't a choice for everyone. It took courage to escape. The kind of courage where the possibility of freedom was worth the risk of escaping. Isaac had a spirit of determination and a relentless will, so he ran barefoot until he knew he was free.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
He didn't know the land very well and he knew if he was caught life would be worse than before, so he took safe refuge in the Underground Railroad. His first station was in Virginia. It took two months to travel north from Virginia to <span style="font-size: small;">New England. He said he wanted to be as far away from slavery as he could.</span> His last station was in Stratford,
Connecticut where he met Asa Seymour Curtis who helped him get to New
Haven.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrd6k7paJAMqMvNSET3arKIiUSPMRM1ifbpMghXiiRyeAVofVE08WkvetzRaXNwI4iSeK1iHLm7vjcTqt_LPGPH9AOOeGPKup1IpfhSlMFugA7Koo8nbL6l50TuUZt0RxMNzqyTzyRRc/s1600/frederick+douglass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; font-family: Times; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrd6k7paJAMqMvNSET3arKIiUSPMRM1ifbpMghXiiRyeAVofVE08WkvetzRaXNwI4iSeK1iHLm7vjcTqt_LPGPH9AOOeGPKup1IpfhSlMFugA7Koo8nbL6l50TuUZt0RxMNzqyTzyRRc/s1600/frederick+douglass.jpg" height="320" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Connecticut War Record, 1864-02</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After the Civil War began, the Governor of Connecticut called for men of color to make up the Connecticut 29th Regiment for Colored Volunteers. Isaac Wheeler enlisted on January 29, 1864, the same day, Frederick Douglass addressed the soldiers in Fair Haven, Connecticut. Isaac heard Douglass' famous speech and those important words, "You are pioneers of the liberty of your race." He realized that those words spoke truth and he was about to be the pioneer for the future generations of his family. Isaac served in the Civil
War and was seriously injured in the siege of Petersburg, Virginia. He returned home from the war a disabled “musket-man” with
a limp and he and his wife received a
pension from the government for the rest of their lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Elijah asked, “Why was he a fugitive
slave?” Uncle Rex continued with the
story. Isaac was born a slave and had never been free. His owner Ebenezer Herron sold
Isaac’s mother Matilda when he was eight-years old. She was taken from the plantation by her new
owner and Isaac never saw her again.
He learned at a very young age that family was important, and he believed the only way he
could have a family again was through freedom.
So he escaped and became a fugitive slave. Much later in life, he told his wife and children that he had to make many sacrifices for the next generation
of his family to have a life of freedom.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-63526556999184865592014-02-02T05:47:00.000-08:002014-09-21T15:55:40.379-07:00The Wheelers - Part II<h3>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm writing my family history story Feb 1-28, 2014 </span><a href="http://www.familyhistorywritingchallenge.com/"><span style="font-size: small;">Family History Writing Challenge</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></h3>
<br />
<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/AVvXsEhQQZm_jdbizZBlBhtH1ZnxDFEtoFtEvnx-N6E7MP5gfQPpEfEGagHvBqhKIRkN5CBJnYYnUwlE0tVH69_hzVDeS0ee6-Xjkc6tyx0qsvZSW4IzD5r3J2P_HdiadCAMcsJYD60Xkryzq7g/s1600/FHWC14+-290p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQZm_jdbizZBlBhtH1ZnxDFEtoFtEvnx-N6E7MP5gfQPpEfEGagHvBqhKIRkN5CBJnYYnUwlE0tVH69_hzVDeS0ee6-Xjkc6tyx0qsvZSW4IzD5r3J2P_HdiadCAMcsJYD60Xkryzq7g/s1600/FHWC14+-290p.jpg" height="400" width="296" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Come
here Elijah. Come and sit on my lap.”
Rex said. Elijah was his cute curly
haired five-year old grand-nephew. He
was precocious and everyone loved him.
He was the kind of kid you enjoyed being around because he always seemed
happy and content. He had an old soul
like he had been in this world before.
His two front teeth were missing but he had a grin like a Cheshire
cat. If he wasn’t flashing a smile he
would charm you with those big beautiful brown eyes. “Here I come, Uncle Rex.” Elijah said as he
ran with all his force into the family room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The family
room was a large rectangular space with cathedral ceilings and crown
molding. It had just been newly
renovated. There were seven large oak
windows that faced the west, and the best sunlight filled the room at this time
of day. The fireplace was centered on
the north wall and on the mantle were 18 framed pictures of family members over
several decades. The frame in the center
was larger than the rest and contained a sepia wedding photograph of a couple
in 1926. Above the mantle hung a
triangle glass box with an enclosed military burial flag. On the south wall were French doors that led
to a screened-in porch and an outdoor deck.
Ironically, you could feel the coziness of the extra-large space that
sponsored many family gatherings, parties, holiday festivities but most of all
storytelling.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-28987690394227342472014-02-01T18:14:00.000-08:002014-09-21T15:58:39.463-07:00The Wheelers - Part I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BsMmyChPYAs/Uu21_gwJOBI/AAAAAAAAErM/xOpV6EgLrdA/s1600/family+history.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm writing my family history story Feb 1-28, 2014 </span><a href="http://www.familyhistorywritingchallenge.com/"><span style="font-size: small;">The Family History Writing Challenge</span></a></span></h3>
<h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPLNFZYhRe2-J-0w8NsOe4vlIsS2Z8dsfmAXSGWtswNkki2OG6JhNdwoevvH_he4KEUU5rzpOCVNdCUJKybIQ_KFgS4w1VdX42v37TYkDCSpSUKEajXT2FttRDxI0LpA1d8YCyIIBG-0/s1600/FHWC14+-290p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPLNFZYhRe2-J-0w8NsOe4vlIsS2Z8dsfmAXSGWtswNkki2OG6JhNdwoevvH_he4KEUU5rzpOCVNdCUJKybIQ_KFgS4w1VdX42v37TYkDCSpSUKEajXT2FttRDxI0LpA1d8YCyIIBG-0/s1600/FHWC14+-290p.jpg" height="400" width="296" /></a></div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BsMmyChPYAs/Uu21_gwJOBI/AAAAAAAAErM/xOpV6EgLrdA/s1600/family+history.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></a></h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was June 12th a clear sunny summer day and Rex Wheeler
had just returned home from his daily walk in the neighborhood. This was a community where the Wheeler clan
had established deep roots and had lived in the same home for 84 years through
five generations. As Rex walked in the
house he couldn’t help but to reminisce about the day Medgar Wiley Evers was
assassinated. Fifty years ago to the
date, he thought. On that day, just like
today, Rex walked the same route to the same house. He remembered how the news
saddened the community. It was the first
time he had ever seen his mother cry. He
felt like he should have cried too, but he was too angry to pursue his grief,
so instead he sat in front of the RCA console and watched the news in silence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the NAACP Convention came to the city, he walked in
the Freedom March and participated in the rally in Grant Park. He saw Medgar Evers' widow receive the NAACP
Spingarn Medal in her husband's honor on July 4, 1963. Six weeks later, he participated in the March
On Washington. He was only 16 years old
at the time, but his parents encouraged him to go because they knew that he
would learn the value of sacrifice. Rex
glanced at the clock in the kitchen as he walked through the dining room on his
way to the family room. As he read the
time, 2:27 p.m., his mind was quickly brought back to the present day. It was Elijah’s time now, a time that Rex
often looked forward to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-16340131443098502072014-01-31T21:14:00.002-08:002014-09-21T16:30:27.579-07:00Surname Saturday - Pritchard<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">The following information has sources. If you are a relative or have information about this line of the Pritchard family, please get in touch with me. I am interested in learning more and willing to share information to help others continue their research.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Storyline: It's all in a name.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">My maternal
grandfather is Ernest Lee Pritchard Sr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was born 16 March 1901 in McMinn County, Tennessee, USA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He died on 10 Jan 1975 in Cleveland, Bradley,
Tennessee, USA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have traced his ancestry
back three generations: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>his father
Robert Dodson Pritchard, his grandfather James Pritchard, and his
great-grandfather Alfred Pritchard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Circa 1835, t</span>he family migrated from North Carolina to eastern Tennessee. The family settled in McMinn County, Tennessee circa 1855.</span><br />
<span style="clear: right; display: inline !important; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="clear: right; display: inline !important; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </b></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>Robert Dodson Pritchard</b></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> b. Jan 1862 in McMinn Co., Tennessee, USA</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> d. 28 Apr 1924 place unknown</span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;"><strong>James Pritchard</strong></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;">b. 1836 in Tennessee, USA</span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">d. unknown<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;"><strong>Alfred Pritchard </strong></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;">b. 1805 in North Carolina, USA</span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">d. unknown<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%; text-align: justify;">The name
Pritchard is of Welsh origin and is derived from ap. Richard which means son of
Richard.</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%; text-align: justify;">The name is found in ancient
records with various spellings, for example Prichert, Prichart, and Pricherd. The most common usage in modern times is
Pritchard and Prichard, and in my family line they have used both spellings. It is said that
the ancient Welsh Pritchards were related to the Pritchards of London who
were noble.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Early colonial history of America has shown many Pritchards who have emigrated from
Wales, but there is no evidence that any of these individuals are related to my Pritchard
family, at least not yet.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfP88WY-n4ccMT_ONMJuij0aDyoE1SJfiAi6qSaxl1Ge7KzFgdclEAwv2VdOtXYI3UoE-3A4BF3iA3vL-7oueqZ7kKYBYbJQuBNYo4RZUHCY_lyStbUEVTQKV1IdSiUbwp6sNPAI59muQ/s1600/Pritchard+cover.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfP88WY-n4ccMT_ONMJuij0aDyoE1SJfiAi6qSaxl1Ge7KzFgdclEAwv2VdOtXYI3UoE-3A4BF3iA3vL-7oueqZ7kKYBYbJQuBNYo4RZUHCY_lyStbUEVTQKV1IdSiUbwp6sNPAI59muQ/s1600/Pritchard+cover.gif" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-24777924841151045692014-01-29T23:03:00.001-08:002014-01-29T23:04:28.525-08:00Take A Peek .....Enjoy my Blog <a href="http://worldwidegenealogy.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-joy-of-blogging-in-30-days.html">The Joy of Blogging in 30 Days</a> on the Blog <a href="http://worldwidegenealogy.blogspot.com/">Worldwide Genealogy ~ A Genealogical Collaboration</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-32687791822894084672014-01-27T11:56:00.002-08:002014-09-20T22:04:03.426-07:00My New Blog Introduction ~<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ioos18pQjw-VjdrAXAJB0JsmylL-SqCZhHwemTObdoh7YIFPTcwFw_vP_uxkLM2VHG0aHo4u5NTPFJ9ZEYgt3OyqYsAmQJ2o-wXspRD1KpDvy-_rDQU-y7oYL3MEflmhmtYgxUnsCq4/s1600/new+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ioos18pQjw-VjdrAXAJB0JsmylL-SqCZhHwemTObdoh7YIFPTcwFw_vP_uxkLM2VHG0aHo4u5NTPFJ9ZEYgt3OyqYsAmQJ2o-wXspRD1KpDvy-_rDQU-y7oYL3MEflmhmtYgxUnsCq4/s1600/new+blog.jpg" height="221" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am feeling excited about being one of the new Blogs introduced on </span><a href="http://geneabloggers.com/" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Geneabloggers.</a><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, on Saturday, January 25, 2014</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-54671841616498193822014-01-27T08:53:00.002-08:002014-09-21T20:47:59.837-07:00The Book of Me, Written By You ... Well It's Not Winter (Prompt 4)<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDc1E2iEBf6W9CY62-BZOnShogLkBmfB5MAmH589efWCcu9TUy8QzGZqJKK-hgOUJHEQ9FlNv1Ip5zkuFMJD2tNfiBMtCzUeXeh66hthZ5mwE1OMUiyqxVh8BiiUWlGcVFBh5Ju62rWGk/s1600/the+book+of+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDc1E2iEBf6W9CY62-BZOnShogLkBmfB5MAmH589efWCcu9TUy8QzGZqJKK-hgOUJHEQ9FlNv1Ip5zkuFMJD2tNfiBMtCzUeXeh66hthZ5mwE1OMUiyqxVh8BiiUWlGcVFBh5Ju62rWGk/s1600/the+book+of+me.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prompt 4: The prompt for week 4 is "Favorite Season" and these are the questions.</span></div>
<ul><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why?</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Happy Memory.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Close your eyes and imagine your favorite season – write down what you see, feel, and hear.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is not hard to imagine my favorite season when it is one of the coldest winters in Chicago and the city is being called Chi-beria. Today, it is minus 14 degrees with wind gusts at 40 MPH, and they are suggesting that if you do not have to go outside then don't. The weatherman is reporting that today Alaska is warmer than Chicago. With that said, I guess you can tell that winter is not going to be my favorite season. At least not today.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My favorite season is summer. That is not to say that I don't like the other three seasons. I would just prefer to run through them instead of sitting down and enjoying the weather. There is an energy of life in the summer months that doesn't exist for me during the other seasons. Let's just say, summer and me just have great chemistry.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My favorite holiday is the 4th of July. I enjoy the tribute to our country, not to mention, I love the cookouts and fireworks. The fact that it occurs on a warm summer sunny day is an added bonus.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Summer reminds me of oceans, sunsets, flip flops, sunshine and blue skies, flower gardens, sun-tea, Italian ice, outdoor concerts, movies in the park, carnivals, sun on my face, beaches, bare feet, toes polished, baseball, barbque, road trips, boating, cotton candy, and Frankie Beverly and Maze. All of them are my favorite things. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If I close my eyes to visualize summer .... I see an ocean beach under blue skies and billowing clouds with the rays of the sun beaming down on my face. The warmth of the sun feels so healing and replenishing. I can smell the salt water and hear the roaring waves of the ocean slamming into land. I feel the sand between my toes and a slight breeze in the air. The weight of the climate is light and delicate. It is a perfect setting for reflection and contemplation. I feel a sense of contentment, peace, and resolve. This is what makes summer my favorite season.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<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;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zrF4Cl_Ps_4/VB5a-8Uhl2I/AAAAAAAAGqU/aGZWfR5a8jc/s1600/edb7b731636525dd23a6260e62d6ac2f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zrF4Cl_Ps_4/VB5a-8Uhl2I/AAAAAAAAGqU/aGZWfR5a8jc/s1600/edb7b731636525dd23a6260e62d6ac2f.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicago Fireworks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-22202284109181971562014-01-22T20:52:00.000-08:002014-09-21T20:49:56.481-07:00The Book of Me, Written By You ... The 102nd Day of the Year (Prompt 2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6VO4rO3g4LLwyMSPeMqDAbwB1QQ2QzlLedPkpenYksjgkeJIFmKXHmz29_WRO-Kl9RNmB4bXk6uTUuzcb5NGJmCu5ZBxH7sUp9-o4wXKMRxQv7KZdHlytk_Odf1ino-zYgYFhbqctvU/s1600/the+book+of+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6VO4rO3g4LLwyMSPeMqDAbwB1QQ2QzlLedPkpenYksjgkeJIFmKXHmz29_WRO-Kl9RNmB4bXk6uTUuzcb5NGJmCu5ZBxH7sUp9-o4wXKMRxQv7KZdHlytk_Odf1ino-zYgYFhbqctvU/s1600/the+book+of+me.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prompt 2: The prompt for week 2 is "Your Birth" and these are the questions.</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you have any baby photos?</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where were you born?</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who was present at your birth?</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dimensions?</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What day was it? Time?</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did you have hair? Eye color</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are you a twin?</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<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/AVvXsEhm1L7jWS36DdUUtWqO9NuPGgXrdPgFrZmVG-asT2KTc1wXSbbNBmr6iAeLB7QkUPb7-HyKkg_L8P6GHEygaaXDV2XIE_qR4iki6jvGSUsUpcGa7h_c_4YWdlc8-Xwp50kWNKNZDZov4Hk/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm1L7jWS36DdUUtWqO9NuPGgXrdPgFrZmVG-asT2KTc1wXSbbNBmr6iAeLB7QkUPb7-HyKkg_L8P6GHEygaaXDV2XIE_qR4iki6jvGSUsUpcGa7h_c_4YWdlc8-Xwp50kWNKNZDZov4Hk/s1600/baby.jpg" height="320" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tina Marie Starks, August 1960</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was born on a Monday, April 11, 1960, at 12:45 p.m. in Chicago, Illinois. It was the 102nd day of the year. My father is Black and my mother is white. They moved north to Chicago from Chattanooga, Tennessee to have me. The 1960's was a very volatile time and Chattanooga was one of the cities where students were having sit-ins at the local five and dime lunch counters. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My mother came to Chicago two months before I was born and my father arrived a few months before my mother. She gave birth to me at Cook County Hospital and there were no complications. I was a single birth and I am the only child that they have together. As far as I know, other than the medical staff, she was alone during delivery. I weighed 7 lbs. 10 oz. when I was born. The little hair that I had was dark brown and my eyes were medium brown. The doctor stamped her discharge papers "live child" and we went home together on April 14th.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My dad told me that he named me. He said he liked the name Tina it was short and sweet. He felt it would be easy to spell and easy to pronounce - one less thing for me to worry about. My middle name Marie was taken from his sister's name, Doris Marie. As he repeated my names he smiled and said they have a ring to them. I could tell that he felt proud, and for a few seconds he returned to the moment when he was in charge of naming me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The baby picture above was taken of me in August 1960 by my father. He took most of our family pictures. He gave me this picture several years ago and I cherish it, not because it is a picture of me, because it reminds me of a tender moment when my father shared my story with me.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-82120076172342238682014-01-22T10:18:00.002-08:002014-09-21T00:05:06.753-07:00A Blast from My Past<h3>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
Storyline: A photograph can trigger a sentiment that can take you right back to that moment. </span></h3>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJVJ0peTx76ise5xq7ffaiP0TPwt3RM-YueRWJgDW3x3MgbJjPifwT4SMO9sPlGmgKvO3QOJ4WcpJaif_Z7WTt1H33RijWIlJyixAJLfd2CmJFE4Sfoy2IcMPkQL0m3Z3SGzMOCxClCo/s1600/music.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJVJ0peTx76ise5xq7ffaiP0TPwt3RM-YueRWJgDW3x3MgbJjPifwT4SMO9sPlGmgKvO3QOJ4WcpJaif_Z7WTt1H33RijWIlJyixAJLfd2CmJFE4Sfoy2IcMPkQL0m3Z3SGzMOCxClCo/s1600/music.jpg" height="241" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">In 1969, our stereo resided in the living room
on the wall under the stairs. It was 4' x
3½', shaped like a rectangle, and stood about 3 feet from the ground. It was lifted off the floor by four 3 inch
wooden legs. The stereo cabinet was
completely wood. It was maple-wood, except for
where the speakers were enclosed.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
speakers sat in the front panel on the right and left side of the cabinet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was brown and tan netted material
covering them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking down at the right
side where the turntable sat was a wooden panel and if you slid it to the left
the cabinet would open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You had to reach
down into the cabinet to play an album on the turntable.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Next to the stereo was a shelf with about 100 vinyl records. There were a few 45's but most of the records were 33 albums. The 45's had these colorful plastic inserts that you would place in the center of the record so that it could play on the turntable. Those inserts were in a blue art deco bowl that sat on the shelf near the records. Each album rested in a cardboard sleeve with photographs or art on the front of the album cover.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">My parents listened to all types of music but their favorite genre was jazz. There were albums from Cannonball Adderly to Lester Young. Each person in the house had a favorite album that was worn down from repeat playing. My favorite album was the Jackson 5's ABC. It had scratches on the vinyl that would cause it to skip or repeat a note when played. The album cover had secretly disappeared to my bedroom under the mattress because I often daydreamed over their photos.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The stereo was played often in our home but never on Sundays. It was a source of regular entertainment that became a tradition at family functions. Each album had its spotlight. Some albums lasted for the duration of the hit and others were classic repeat defenders. </span>The chronic repeaters were Nate King Cole, Nancy Wilson, anything Motown, and the Fifth Dimension. Anytime I hear one of those songs today, it takes me right back to the past.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-17259112258009710122014-01-21T23:21:00.000-08:002014-02-08T17:16:36.847-08:00Wordless Wednesday - A Blast From My Past<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<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;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YqGADtob9D4/UvbWzjIkBhI/AAAAAAAAEzE/WGKdQhM4Rpk/s1600/music.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YqGADtob9D4/UvbWzjIkBhI/AAAAAAAAEzE/WGKdQhM4Rpk/s1600/music.jpg" height="241" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A language we all understand</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Please visit <a href="http://geneabloggers.com/daily-blogging-prompts/">GeneaBloggers</a><span id="goog_1707520771"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1707520772"></span> to learn more about Wordless Wednesday.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-58593785487643022002014-01-21T14:13:00.001-08:002014-09-21T00:14:55.822-07:00Tombstone Tuesday - Two Mothers<h3>
Faithie Lyons Wheeler and Gladys Wheeler Starks ~</h3>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Over the summer of 2012, I went on a genealogy research trip to the region of Tennessee where most of my family originated. It was not my first trip to Tennessee, but it was my first research trip. My itinerary started with a very personal visit to Highland Memorial Gardens Cemetery in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Highland is one of the first "colored cemeteries" in Chattanooga. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I made contact with the cemetery staff in advance and had gotten the burial sites to coordinate someone showing me the locations. I met with the grave diggers, as they called themselves, at the cemetery gates at 10 a.m. They guided me to six family graves. Only two, my grandmother and great-grandmother had tombstones to mark their burial site. I later asked my dad why were my grandmothers the only ones with tombstones and he said, "Because they were the Mothers". I didn't have to ask him what he meant, I knew. I had only brought flowers to place on the graves of the two Mothers.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://www.google.com/maps/place/2116+Shepherd+Rd/@35.043673,-85.183471,3a,90y,71h,90t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1s0UkufwLMh65hhtZM_Wqkrg!2e0!4m2!3m1!1s0x886063e4bcf6d487:0xbdd36e2c9685803!6m1!1e1?hl=en" target="_blank">Highland Memorial Garden Cemetery - mapped</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwfzy2Sya3PfffpCf6R22fiuYfaPoFE28LtJh_uYPPrBZIfg4Yy87ljR3I_jP_eGfF0oTRVYpZl_NKdam_akD2-6tcY22Kx9gzWIf3W_s2trEchyQIzSYo4ZXscv70oXX8R-h2EfKlls/s1600/Tombstone+Tuesday+Fathie.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;"> Inscription</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> Faithie wife of Dave Wheeler</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> Sept 13, 1884 - June 10, 1936</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span> </span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My paternal great-grandmother is Fathie Lyons Wheeler. She was born 13 Sep 1884 in Tennessee. Her mother died when she was very young so she was raised by her aunt Mary Lyons. She married David Isaac Wheeler on 13 Dec 1903 in Chattanooga, Tennessee. They had three daughters Lovie, Gladys and Daisy Wheeler. Lovie preceded her mother in death. Fathie died 10 Jun 1936 in Chattanooga, Tennessee.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTTd62gFepCY7WHEGCthxxpC7gfQjIZOzY7wPnRYWwlC1lAVQQqfdefK4jmuLhcZI3cI7D21rfdrgACDHJ0kc51HdWSDlGzmKabmMuhGpUB-N6jEde5dCj23AYhcZUtDoqH6oyzOtj0Q/s1600/Tombstone+Tuesday+Gladys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTTd62gFepCY7WHEGCthxxpC7gfQjIZOzY7wPnRYWwlC1lAVQQqfdefK4jmuLhcZI3cI7D21rfdrgACDHJ0kc51HdWSDlGzmKabmMuhGpUB-N6jEde5dCj23AYhcZUtDoqH6oyzOtj0Q/s1600/Tombstone+Tuesday+Gladys.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My paternal grandmother is Gladys Wheeler Starks. She was born 20 May 1908 (not 8 May) in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Her parents were David Isaac and Faithie Lyons Wheeler. She married LaGrant Starks on 23 Jun 1930 in Rossville, Walker, Georgia. They had nine children. Two children preceded her in death. Gladys died 22 Sep 1988 (not 24 Sep) in Chattanooga on her husband's 83rd birthday.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Please visit </span><a href="http://geneabloggers.com/" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">GeneaBloggers</a><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to learn more about Tombstone Tuesday.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">See Fathie Lyons Wheeler's tombstone on </span><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/191332684143339871/" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pinterest</a><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-9382002185536872662014-01-20T15:26:00.002-08:002014-09-21T20:54:33.331-07:00The Book of Me, Written By You ... Beginnings (Prompt 1)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6VO4rO3g4LLwyMSPeMqDAbwB1QQ2QzlLedPkpenYksjgkeJIFmKXHmz29_WRO-Kl9RNmB4bXk6uTUuzcb5NGJmCu5ZBxH7sUp9-o4wXKMRxQv7KZdHlytk_Odf1ino-zYgYFhbqctvU/s1600/the+book+of+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6VO4rO3g4LLwyMSPeMqDAbwB1QQ2QzlLedPkpenYksjgkeJIFmKXHmz29_WRO-Kl9RNmB4bXk6uTUuzcb5NGJmCu5ZBxH7sUp9-o4wXKMRxQv7KZdHlytk_Odf1ino-zYgYFhbqctvU/s1600/the+book+of+me.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am new to blogging and just recently learned about Julie Goucher's project, <span id="goog_704502263"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_704502264"><a href="http://www.anglers-rest.net/book-of-me-written-by-you.html">The Book of Me, Written By You</a>. I learned about the project on <a href="http://geneabloggers.com/">GeneaBloggers</a> where they were announcing the writing prompt for week 21. The project is 15 months, although you can complete it at your own pace and start at any point. Obviously, I have some catching up to do. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decided to participate on the spot even though I know life is pretty busy these days. I thought to myself when will life be less busy, and if I didn't start now I would only be procrastinating until a later date. I have reviewed each weekly prompt and some will be much easier to write about than others.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prompt 1: The prompt for week 1 is a recognized psychology test. Ask yourself 20 times<i> “Who are you?” </i>Each time you should give yourself a different answer, and if you can easily go beyond 20 then that is fine too. </span><br />
<h3 style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Storyline: I have never had a hard time making it to the finish line, but those starter blocks have always made me anxious.</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here I go with Prompt 1, </span><strong style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Who are you?"</strong></div>
</div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WtAvsVUgaD_zxeAPL3hZ98q6d6SHIo4fE3Ic-a3geXFPjWt9dquV4OmMvN_G3x8eKFGds0LvTp1VcybTRFbfmdg_fzhUB3XMaa463waAk9IaL23WR3OSVjq4sBkibsv61wOFO5fziAI/s1600/light2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WtAvsVUgaD_zxeAPL3hZ98q6d6SHIo4fE3Ic-a3geXFPjWt9dquV4OmMvN_G3x8eKFGds0LvTp1VcybTRFbfmdg_fzhUB3XMaa463waAk9IaL23WR3OSVjq4sBkibsv61wOFO5fziAI/s1600/light2.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. I am a child of God</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. uniquely me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. feminine = mother, daughter, sister, nana, aunt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. spiritual</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. great friend</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. passionate</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. creative</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. artist</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. worldly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. smart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">11. wise</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">12. storyteller</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">13. family historian</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">14. funny</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">15. resilient</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">16. counselor</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">17. foodie</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">18. writer</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">19. extrovert</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">20. friendly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">21. tenacious</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">22. breast cancer survivor</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first five responses are ordered, but the last 17 are random and could fall anywhere on the list.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-73739081270633279112014-01-19T21:34:00.000-08:002014-09-21T08:50:41.575-07:00January 2014, Photo of the Month<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTO08lsrQVafiT457npqNnzJeGkWlIFsINfKmDcxnnlcQRWNyR0vgEk9tzAUyUQS-l7dS_WCqPh3FqmSUZQ7NTz7ALeCJIW2-0VHf5kuK9dN5q6mVXtFqsQzUsmuEpC10cF6c6oZ0F_Q/s1600/chitown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTO08lsrQVafiT457npqNnzJeGkWlIFsINfKmDcxnnlcQRWNyR0vgEk9tzAUyUQS-l7dS_WCqPh3FqmSUZQ7NTz7ALeCJIW2-0VHf5kuK9dN5q6mVXtFqsQzUsmuEpC10cF6c6oZ0F_Q/s1600/chitown.jpg" height="296" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sunday's Best 1941, Chicago Boys</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Photographer Unknown</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-10228996544434110682014-01-18T16:25:00.001-08:002014-09-21T01:05:10.642-07:00Sepia Saturday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jSIz452Fo7238LIeE5ENQw87nNMm15v_dcSefza51ymyPMG-Vw6G_bE8qLKJ6bnPCTaSP-gkKbMZGxC2DOLUlKY2Bz8YILQ_p4qjRTP2_uJuZB8VN0USI3NivTH3enOEVG_-gzDjdeU/s1600/2014.01W.04%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jSIz452Fo7238LIeE5ENQw87nNMm15v_dcSefza51ymyPMG-Vw6G_bE8qLKJ6bnPCTaSP-gkKbMZGxC2DOLUlKY2Bz8YILQ_p4qjRTP2_uJuZB8VN0USI3NivTH3enOEVG_-gzDjdeU/s1600/2014.01W.04%5B1%5D.jpg" height="128" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BHX6Kk2Eai8TQj7i1BFxcMsnpdTBVlfLN3oP2He0MzDL-yRS-mYpEhUc2CwRldvbZK-hIvKtICInb8VmytA2LPe5TxLhROVIl2Lc9SNHlMqyzVEYgErkqWUdRj0CX0_HraHDUb2Hb0M/s1600/wwi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BHX6Kk2Eai8TQj7i1BFxcMsnpdTBVlfLN3oP2He0MzDL-yRS-mYpEhUc2CwRldvbZK-hIvKtICInb8VmytA2LPe5TxLhROVIl2Lc9SNHlMqyzVEYgErkqWUdRj0CX0_HraHDUb2Hb0M/s1600/wwi.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">African American soldiers during WW1, circa 1916</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was excited when I read that this week's photo represented veterans. As a veteran who professionally works with combat veterans everyday, I get excited when they are celebrated. The names of the soldiers in this photo are unknown but their heroism and bravery does not go unnoticed. During World War 1, more than 200,000 African American soldiers fought with the American Expeditionary Force in France. The military was a segregated branch at that time, so many African American soldiers fought alongside the French Army and not their white American counterparts. Most African American soldiers could not fight on the battle field instead they served in support roles. By the end of the war, 171 African Americans received the French Legion of Honor for their heroism and bravery.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Please visit <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday</a> to view the other amazing posts on WW1</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-73109294872691066312014-01-13T14:04:00.001-08:002014-09-21T08:58:46.462-07:00Fannie Herring's Legacy ~<h3>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Storyline: I grew up knowing that my maternal great-grandmother was a midwife. Although her story excited me, it was way more exciting to tell it.</span></h3>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her
brown-skin belly was swollen like a vertical watermelon. This was her third time being with
child. She was having strong pains and
could feel the discomfort way down in her back.
She had spent the last few hours like this so she knew it was almost time
to give birth. As she tried really hard
not to push, she wondered if the midwife would get there before the baby
arrived. The midwife opened the door and
walked quickly toward her bedside. Aunt
Fannie was a short stout dark-skin woman with gray eyes. Eyes the color of hot coals and the kind you
see on old folks. You could see her
thick gray hair peeking through her tattered head wrap and she wore an old
discolored striped shift-dress that had its own history.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It
was January 16, 1915, and Aunt Fannie was more than 80 years old now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her body was beginning to wear down but she
loved her work and never missed a birthing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wasn’t classically trained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She had learned midwifery helping to deliver babies in the slave
quarters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was known by the town’s
people as the most trusted midwife in Barbour County, Alabama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At a time when the races were segregated in
the south, she had delivered all the black and white babies in the county since
she was 22 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone knew she
had a passion for bringing life into the world and that is why the town’s
people called her God’s assistant.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aunt
Fannie’s first words to the mother were, “Are you ready honey? We bout’ to bring this baby into the
world.” The mother looked up at Fannie
with sweat pouring down her face and wishing that this was already over. At that moment, she knew that they were
equally matched contenders. “Yes ma’am
Aunt Fannie. I’m ready,” she said as she
scooted her bottom toward the end of the bed preparing to give birth.</span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901286224887051434.post-76344046896092125382014-01-08T20:16:00.003-08:002014-09-21T08:55:05.888-07:00The Backstory: A Saga of Interracial Love and Migration<h3>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
Storyline: When you can't figure out where to start, start with yourself and move outward.</span></h3>
<span style="background-color: #444444;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My father and mother were both born in Chattanooga, Tennessee in 1938 and 1936 respectively. My father, James is African-American, and my mother, Patricia is Irish-American. He was a tall, slim, brown skin handsome man who had a generous heart and a bright smile. She was petit with a fair complexion, light brown hair, hazel eyes and my dad said that she never met a person who couldn’t be her friend. They met in the late 1950’s at the local Five & Dime Store, where she worked at the ‘colored lunch counter’ and he worked across the street at the local pawn shop. Each day he would leave the Reliable Loan Office at 831 Market Street and walk about 50 yards across the street to eat lunch at S & H Kress at 822 Market. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ironically, at a time when the south exuded segregation, my white mother would serve my black father his lunch.
With no regard to race, they soon fell in love and made a commitment to be together, and decided to have me. I always tell them they were ‘brave in love’ during a time when Tennessee had laws that forbade interracial marriages. If they displayed any affection in public, they could have been arrested, jailed, or killed. Knowing their fate, they tried to hide their relationship from their family, friends, the public and most importantly from the law. Over time, it became increasingly difficult for them to disguise their affection and love for each other.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prior to 1959, no one in either of my direct ancestral lines had moved from the south. My ancestors seemed to be content with their planted southern roots, but these two changed this tradition and became part of the second wave of the nation’s Great Migration north. They migrated to Chicago when the racism in the south became so volatile that Patricia’s family threatened to lynch James. This is not to say that everyone in the south was racist, but there were institutions, laws, and a culture that promoted and enforced racism. My parents were victims of this system.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My father would secretly go to spend time with my mother at her home during the late night hours. They would also drive to a rural area of the city to my father’s cousin’s home where they could spend time in a more relaxed and safe environment. In 1959, determined to be together, they moved to Chicago. They saved their money and travelled separately to their new place of residence. My dad arrived first to prepare for my mom. Their first home was located in the Hyde Park neighborhood, as this community has always been known as progressive with a diverse population. My parents lived at 1015 E. 57th Street in an apartment building where many interracial couples resided. Dad gained employment quickly and worked as a janitor at the Chicago Osteopathic Hospital right around the corner from where they lived. My mother was a waitress at a local diner. Like most families during this era, my parents strived to make a better way of life for their family.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two months after my mother’s arrival, I was born at Cook County Hospital in April 1960. My birth certificate does not list my race, but my father was listed as Negro and my mother was listed as white. This was an interesting contrast to ‘colored’ the race listed on my dad’s November, 1938 birth certificate. When I look back at the photographs of my parents during this period, they looked so happy. One photo that stands out is a picture of them in 1958 at my dad’s cousin’s home. The photo is a 3 x 4 horizontal black and white. My mother in her white dress is cuddled up with my dad on the couch with the biggest smile. They looked so young and so in love. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They acclaim it as a time rich in social history for them and the nation. Unfortunately, even the Promised Land of the north could not sustain an interracial relationship. Their ‘separate, but equal’ skin tones became difficult for them to negotiate. The pressure of their cultural differences and the climate of the nation devoured their love.
My parents never married and eventually split up in 1961. My dad enlisted in the U.S. Army and my mother stayed in Chicago. They never spoke again. Two years later she met a man, married him and eventually moved west to California. Her husband was white and she thought it would be easier for us both if she placed me for adoption.
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In 1963, I was adopted by a wonderful family that my parents had known in Chicago. It was an open private adoption with all parties present except for my father who did not learn about the adoption until 1964 when he was discharged from the Army. This backstory of interracial love that compelled my parents to migrate north became the context that lends depth and purpose to my own story. A child born at a time when change was inevitable.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnAOjypM4Dc8cvqSz5mJajrmO17X1mA_QTVCQZmOwn9rkIC8f0psF26cdHK0CT2CXxo5gnjh9YEnYmpRfk05dazOaWlBIG322bNrrp9lfHBgJU4VJqH0RWInyblOqo1_ZcGbkQ_n4uNxU/s1600/S&H+Kress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnAOjypM4Dc8cvqSz5mJajrmO17X1mA_QTVCQZmOwn9rkIC8f0psF26cdHK0CT2CXxo5gnjh9YEnYmpRfk05dazOaWlBIG322bNrrp9lfHBgJU4VJqH0RWInyblOqo1_ZcGbkQ_n4uNxU/s1600/S&H+Kress.jpg" height="400" width="255" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The only photo found for S&H Kress</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Chattanooga, Tennessee</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12114716310996294064noreply@blogger.com9