Throw Back Thursday; A Boy And His Tractor

My Aunt Verna in the back and my Mother Veronica in front. What a pair!

My Aunt Verna in the back and my Mother Veronica in front. What a pair!

I had been working on organizing some old family photographs when I came across these photographs. They were taken in 1955 at Macomb Park, Schuyler Falls, N.Y.. Great care was taken in writing the date and place these pictures were taken. Because of this I know this was the eighth wedding anniversary for my parents and my Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Verna. They were married in a double ceremony. No names were noted, and I will take care of that detail.

My mother and her sister Verna were very close. They could argue with the best of them, but don’t ever come between them. I use to stay at my aunt and uncle’s place for about a week each summer. I always had a good time and looked forward to the visit each summer. One summer my aunt introduced me to the great taste of tuna fish sandwiches. My mother who could not stand the smell of any fish claimed my aunt did that to get at her. When I made a tuna fish sandwich at home, I had to very carefully rinse out the can and clean all the dishes used. I could not leave a trace of tuna anywhere.

I seem to be deep in thought on my toy tractor. Perhaps I was wondering when the food was going to be ready.

I seem to be deep in thought on my toy tractor. Perhaps I was wondering when the food was going to be ready.

Aunt Verna showing how the tractor should be ridden.

Aunt Verna showing how the tractor should be ridden.

Our family had many such picnics as pictured here. The were great times, and I am happy to say I have many pictures of them.

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Just One Of 8000

Baby sister between her two older brothers. She is not yet a full month old at her first Christmas. I have always said she was my rose between the two thorns.

Baby sister between her two older brothers. She is not yet a full month old at her first Christmas. I have always said she was my rose between the two thorns.

Telling family stories is a fun pastime for most people. I have recently used this blog to show how it can be done. We can tell stories through family heirlooms, by visiting an old hometown, or even where past ancestors have lived. When we research our ancestors, we must keep in mind that they did not live in a vacuum. They were part of the community and had dealings with many people. They may have known or been friends with community leaders and famous people of their times. This type of interaction could make for a great family story.

I was reminded of a family story that my wife is fond of telling each year around my daughter’s birthday. The reminder, unfortunately, came with the news of the death of a good man. Dr. Richard Aubry age 81 died in an automobile accident last week. Dr. Aubry was among other things a professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Upstate Medical Center in Syracuse, N.Y.. Dr. Aubry also wore another hat. He was a founder of the Regional Perinatal Center and attended over 8000 births. She was sent there for a fairly new procedure at the time called an Amniocentesis. This procedure is a medical procedure in which a small amount of amniotic fluid is removed from the sac that surrounds the fetus. This is done with a needle that is inserted through the abdomen into the uterus. Our doctor at the time wanted this test done because our second son was born with Spina Bifida, and my wife’s oldest brother was born with Down Syndrome.

However, if this wasn’t stressful enough our doctor informed my wife that if the test came back positive for any of these conditions, an abortion must be done. This was a concern for us as an abortion was out of the question. When my wife tried to explain this to the doctor, he flatly told her not to come back if the test were positive and she was not going to have an abortion. We had many a conversation while waiting for the test date. To say we were concerned would be an understatement. Back in the 1970s services for people and families with disabilities were not readily available, (I still do not think they are even today) and we did not live near any family that could help.

Finally, the time for the test came and then the wait for the results. When it came time to go for the results, my wife went alone. I do not know why I did not go. I should have. Perhaps I had to work or had to stay home with our two sons. Once there she was ushered into a room and given the results of her Amniocentesis test. Everything came back normal. All the signs were for a normal pregnancy and healthy baby. Dr Aubry told my wife that she was now to go back to her doctor for the duration of the pregnancy. At this time, my wife spoke up that she wanted to be looked after by him at the Perinatal Center. He started to explain that they were there for high-risk pregnancies and that she could not be followed by them. According to my wife, that was when she lost it. Through tears, she told him about the abortion ultimatum and that she could not see returning to them for medical care. But what could Dr. Aubry do? He was bound by ethics and procedures. The clinic was not for normal pregnancies and was run by rules and regulations. Dr. Aubry placed his hand on my wife’s shoulders and said “of course you can be seen here.”

My daughter was born during a snow storm in early December. Ten fingers and ten toes. Each and every of my daughter’s birthdays my wife tells of the kindness of Dr. Aubry. My daughter is just one of the 8000 births he attended. I can only guess at what the other 7999 stories are.

Our family on Christmas 2013. It should be noted that four grandchildren were also in the room at the time this picture was taken.

Our family on Christmas 2013. It should be noted that four grandchildren were also in the room at the time this picture was taken.

What are your family stories? Write them down so in the passage of time they don’t get lost. It is the human interest stories the generations to come will want to know. Isn’t that what we really want to know about our ancestors?

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Sixth Grade; Throw Back Thursday

That's me, back row 2nd child from the left. The only boy with glasses.

That’s me, back row 2nd child from the left. The only boy with glasses.

This picture is my Sixth grade class at Broad Street School. I thought I would put this on since I have been blogging about the school and Plattsburgh. The man on the right side of the picture is Gilbert Duken. Not only did he have to teach a class of 35 students he also was the principal. He also found time to take on a student teacher (standing on the other side) for part of the year. Also, he was an alderman for the city. I think about him when I hear teachers complain today.

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A Special Place

This is the Saranac River, that cuts right through Plattsburgh. This Picture was taken at the end of the street I grew up on. Many hours were spent fishing here.

This is the Saranac River, that cuts right through Plattsburgh. This Picture was taken at the end of the street I grew up on. Many hours were spent fishing here.


“This is my most special place in all the world. Once a place touches you like that, the wind never blows so cold again”
From the film Field of Dreams spoken by Dr. Archibald Graham played by Burt Lancaster.

The lucky ones among us have a place that fits the description of the above quote. It is a place that defines us, shaped us in our growing years, and gave us the unique outlook we have on the world at large. I have such a place. It is found in northern New York in the Champlain Valley. A place called Plattsburgh.

From the steps of city hall you can see the Macdonough Monument. It has a giant Eagle with it's wings spread on top. This commemorates the American Victory in  the Battle of Plattsburgh. Fought during the War of 1812

From the steps of city hall you can see the Macdonough Monument. It has a giant Eagle with it’s wings spread on top. This commemorates the American Victory in the Battle of Plattsburgh. Fought during the War of 1812

This is looking back toward city hall, from the monument.

This is looking back toward city hall, from the monument.

Many of our ancestors that we research had a special place also. Perhaps they were among the first settlers that brought a location to life and formed a town. Perhaps generations of your family lived in one place leaving their mark upon it, and in turn being influenced and cradled by that very place. The fact is they are the place, and the place is them.

I just recently returned from a place called Digby, in Nova Scotia. My ancestors helped settled the area over 200 years ago. To be able to go there and walk on their land, see the buildings they built, the monuments erected in their honor, walk in the churches they worshiped in, and find their graves, helped me understand them a little better. To have that type of understanding makes all the difference in your family history. Suddenly they are more than names and dates. They start to breathe and come to life. We even begin to understand them a little more.

Front door at St. John The Baptist Church. I must have gone through these doors countless times.

Front door at St. John The Baptist Church. I must have gone through these doors countless times.


The front altar at St. John The Baptist Church.

The front altar at St. John The Baptist Church.

This is looking back from the front altar.  Sitting in these pews is where a large part of my moral code was formed.

This is looking back from the front altar. Sitting in these pews is where a large part of my moral code was formed.


This week I just came back from an all too brief visit to my hometown, Plattsburgh, N.Y.. I have not lived there since the early 70s. However, even today when someone inquires where I am from, Plattsburgh, is my first thought. In the years past I have brought my children and grandchildren to my hometown. They all have received the “tour” more than once. I recounted stories and showed them the special places of my youth.

When I went to school here it was known only as Broad Street School. It was built right next door to the old wooden Broad Street School. We watched the new one being built. I was in 2nd grade when it opened up.

When I went to school here it was known only as Broad Street School. It was built right next door to the old wooden Broad Street School. We watched the new one being built. I was in 2nd grade when it opened up.

This restaurant was and still is a favorite place for my wife and I. Great food at low prices. We would come here after a movie or a dance. Many laughs and meals were shared with good friends.

This restaurant was and still is a favorite place for my wife and I. Great food at low prices. We would come here after a movie or a dance. Many laughs and meals were shared with good friends.

When you have an ancestor that you are trying to learn more about, spend some time learning about where they lived. Did they live on a farm or in town? Where did they worship? Did they go to a small school or a large city school? What type of work did they do? Who were the family and friends they had in the area? You can find answers in town histories, old newspapers, photographs, vital records, old postcards of the area, and searching on the internet. Construct a time line of your ancestor and their home town. This will put events in order for you. Contact a local historical society, they most likely will have much information just waiting for you.

Clare & Carl's  serve great Michigans. If you do not know what they are, that because you never lived in Plattsburgh, N.Y. A simple description would be a hot dog with a meat sauce on top. No, they are not chili dogs.

Clare & Carl’s serve great Michigans. If you do not know what they are, that because you never lived in Plattsburgh, N.Y. A simple description would be a hot dog with a meat sauce on top. No, they are not chili dogs.

They come right out to your cars and serve the food. My mother use to go here well before I was born.

They come right out to your cars and serve the food. My mother use to go here well before I was born.

I would have taken a picture of a Michigan but they were eaten too fast.

I would have taken a picture of a Michigan but they were eaten too fast.

When you learn about a place, you will learn about the people from that place. So get to know your ancestors a little better by getting to know where and how they lived.

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Mom, Mrs. Moyer, and the Hardy Boys

I could spend a whole afternoon reading the Hardy Boys. I would get lost in their world, it was magical. The ability to escape in a good book is not to be taken for granted.

I could spend a whole afternoon reading the Hardy Boys. I would get lost in their world, it was magical. The ability to escape in a good book is not to be taken for granted.

I have read several blogs recently that discussed books and reading. The subject of reading is one that I think about frequently as I am always in search of something to read. For me, reading is a pleasure and a way to make time pass very quickly. However, this was not always the case. So I would like to share an event in my life that shows how memory can be woven into a family history. Here is my small example of how you can write a memoir. It is the stories about us and our ancestors that will interest future generations.

Mrs. Alice Moyer was my third-grade teacher at Broad St. School in Plattsburgh, N.Y.. At that time, I did not know her first name as all of the teachers were addressed by either Miss, Mrs. or Mr.. Even the teachers addressed each other in this manner. I only learned her first name years after when I read her obituary. With her death, another person has gone without me ever expressing my gratitude. Mrs. Moyer was one of the best teachers I was ever to have at any level of my education. Her influence and talent for teaching forever changed my life for the better. Such people are rare and as such leave a deep impression on a developing person.

When I entered third grade, my reading ability was not even on a first-grade level. I had major speech impediments. I had spent my second-grade year trying not to be noticed by the teacher. It is safe to say that my second-grade teacher was the exact opposite of Mrs. Moyer. Second grade for me was a nightmare. It did not take long for Mrs. Moyer to spot my problems and notified my mother.

Mrs. Veronica Moore is my mother. A child of the depression and hard times she never got a chance to finish school. I do not think she made it much past junior high. In fact, the same could be said about my father. They were hard working people that had to earn their wages with a strong back. Education was the goal for their children, and nothing was more important. “Get an education” was the mantra I was to hear over and over.

Mom and Mrs. Moyer had a meeting, and the plan was laid out. Soon I was in speech therapy and would be for the next three years. We had large classes in those days, which 30 or more students were common, with only a teacher in the room. The classes where I went to school were grouped into three sections. The division was along the student’s ability. The “A” group were, of course, the better students, the “B” group were more the average students and the “C” group were the students that were struggling. Now the teachers never called these groups by any names but it was easy for us students to figure out. Even with a large class and having to attend to the different needs of each group, Mrs. Moyer found almost every day 30 minutes for one on one reading session with me. My third-grade work load was hefty. However Mrs. Moyer, was such an accomplished teacher it was one of the best years I ever had in school.

The home front was under the command of my mother. A library card was secured for me. The wonders of the library were now mine to explore and enjoy. I got to pick out the books that held some interest for me. Mom made sure that I had time to read them. I had to do a book report on the books I read and turn them in for school. On a chart in our classroom everyone has listed the books they had read and done a book report for. While I was far from the leader, I was right in the middle and held my own. Also, mom would buy me a book that I could keep and read anytime I wanted to. This was when I ran into the Hardy Boys. Their adventures kept me buying their books for a few years. Also, I liked Tom Swift and many others. Money was tight in our house, yet they would buy me my books. I can remember mom bringing me to the local bookstore and looking and looking for that special book I was to take home.

When I was in sixth grade about to go into junior high, I tested out for reading on a high school level. I have never looked back. Reading is a habit I have kept over the years. I use libraries now mostly for research. I prefer to own my books and not borrow them. Some are like old friends that I have visited more than a few times.

This is my effort at a memoir. They need not be long or in great detail. Just write down your stories as they come to you. In a few years, you will have written a full memoir to pass on. If you wonder why bother, would you not want one from your parents, grandparents? Start writing.

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A Vacation With A Little Family Genealogy Or Here Are Some Pictures Of My Vacation

Have you ever watched the television show Who Do You Think You Are, and felt a little envious when they fly off to some distant part of the world? I know I have often said to myself, “if only I could do that.” Well, in a small way I did just that. My wife and I took a vacation trip to Digby, Nova Scotia, Canada, I am well aware that it is not the same as Rome, Italy or London, England but it will have to do. Digby is the place my loyalist 4th great grandparents went to when the American Revolution didn’t end as they had hoped.

On the way, we drove through Maine. Maine is a state that I will have to return to as it holds much family history. We stopped in Brunswick, Maine and visited the home of Joshua Chamberlin commander of the famed Civil War 20th Maine Regiment. I had a 2nd great uncle that served in the 20th Maine.

This is Chamberlin's house. His church, family grave site and Bowdon College where he worked were all in a few blocks of this house. In fact the church and college were just across the street.

This is Chamberlin’s house. His church, family grave site and Bowdon College where he worked were all in a few blocks of this house. In fact the church and college were just across the street.

On the backside of Joshua Chamberlin's wife grave stone he had the word unveiled put on. His wife was blind the last few years of her marriage and this was a reference that now she could see.

On the backside of Joshua Chamberlin’s wife grave stone he had the word unveiled put on. His wife was blind the last few years of their marriage and this was a reference that now she could see.

In all the Who Do You Think You Are episodes they have an expert show the person around when they arrive in that exotic far away place. I was no different. Daryl, a cousin more that filled that role for us.

I am on the left and our host Daryl on the right. I could not have asked for a better host. I learned so much in my short time there.

I am on the left and our host Daryl on the right. I could not have asked for a better host. I learned so much in my short time there.

Going to where your ancestors lived is the best way to learn about how they lived and get the feel of the land. The local history comes alive. I was also able to get three books that I may never have known about, they have given me not only an insight on how they lived, but facts about them I would never have known.

This is Fort Ann. I was to learn much history on my visit.

This is Fort Ann. I was to learn much history on my visit.

The tides are the highest in the world. They rise up over 50 feet. The light house would be right behind the picture taker to warn ships away.

The tides are the highest in the world. They rise up over 50 feet. The light house would be right behind the picture taker to warn ships away.

My wife on the left with the people who are restoring a old family farm house and church. This is at the bottom of a large hill from the Loyalist Burying Ground. They were great people who served us cold drinks and even let me ring the restored church bell. This was a much used church of my ancestors dating back to before 1850. Sadly it is no longer used.

My wife on the left with the people who are restoring a old family farm house and church. This is at the bottom of a large hill from the Loyalist Burying Ground. They were great people who served us cold drinks and even let me ring the restored church bell. This was a much used church of my ancestors dating back to before 1850. Sadly it is no longer used.

The Loyalist Burying Ground. This place is off the beaten path, but well worth the effort. This small grave yard is on top of a hill that in order to get to you have to walk through fields. The dirt road gives way to a path then fields. But yet it is well maintained. They take pride in their history.

The Loyalist Burying Ground. This place is off the beaten path, but well worth the effort. This small grave yard is on top of a hill that in order to get to you have to walk through fields. The dirt road gives way to a path then fields. But yet it is well maintained. They take pride in their history.

Most of these people are related to me. This is in the Loyalist Burying Ground.

Most of these people are related to me. This is in the Loyalist Burying Ground.

This marker is placed near the spot the Loyalist landed to make a new start for themselves. I had a 4th great grandparents and a 3rd great grandfather in that landing.

This marker is placed near the spot the Loyalist landed to make a new start for themselves. I had a 4th great grandparents and a 3rd great grandfather in that landing.

Here I am in the genealogy room of the Admiral Digby Museum Genealogy Room. So much information and so little time. This is a great place with very helpful people.

Here I am in the genealogy room of the Admiral Digby Museum Genealogy Room. So much information and so little time. This is a great place with very helpful people.

On the way home, we stopped in Haverhill Ma. to visit the statue of Hannah Dustin. Hannah is my wife’s first cousin ten times removed. The short story of Hannah is that she had just given birth when Haverhill suffered an Indian raid. Her husband was able to save all the children except the new-born baby. Hannah was taken captive. A few days into her captivity she was able to kill all the Indians in her party while they slept with an axe. She was then able to make her escape. My wife’s family in that same time period had a 7th great grandfather killed by a tomahawk to the head and his son my wife’s 6th great uncle captured and tortured.

The Hannah Dustin statue. I do not think we will ever be able to understand the hardships our ancestors had to endure.

The Hannah Dustin statue. I do not think we will ever be able to understand the hardships our ancestors had to endure.

This is a side plaque showing Hannah's husband protecting the children

This is a side plaque showing Hannah’s husband protecting the children

It was not all genealogy. My wife managed to find no less than five quilt shops to visit and even a quilt show. We also spent a day at Old Orchard Beach in Maine. So this is my report of how I spent my summer vacation.

Some of the many great quilts at the quilt show in Digby, Nova Scotia, Canada. For a very small town they have many active quilters.

Some of the many great quilts at the quilt show in Digby, Nova Scotia, Canada. For a very small town they have many active quilters.

Old Orchard Beach in Maine. This was a real fun day.

Old Orchard Beach in Maine. This was a real fun day.

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Just Trying to do a Good Deed.

Where do we start?

Where do we start?


I like many of you have been helped along in our genealogy research. Many times it was a complete stranger, perhaps thousands of miles away. I also have at times tried to help other people. The good feeling you get when you are able to help someone is for me reward enough. One of the things I do is to help direct a genealogy group at my local library. We have many beginning genealogists that attend the meetings, and helping them gather family data is very rewarding. I, however wanted to do a little more. A website that has given me much information has been “Find A Grave.” So I signed on to try and fill photo request at local cemeteries.

I only had to wait a few weeks when a request came in. It was for Fly Creek Valley Cemetery. While not exactly in my backyard it was only about 45 minutes away. It is very close Cooperstown, N.Y., home of the Baseball Hall of Fame. This is an area my wife and I know very well and are down this way often. I checked the listing “Find A Grave” had for this cemetery and found they have a total of 30 requests. So I printed out a list and thought I would put a real dent in that number. My wife was talked into going (she is much better at spotting names on the markers) my note pad, camera, and list were all packed up and away we went.

The day was very warm in the high 80s and very humid. However we were very comfortable in our air condition car. Which was a good thing because after having to turn around about six times it was getting a little warm between my wife (who was attempting to read the map) and myself. Like true explorers, we managed to stumble on the correct cemetery. Since I was not able to get a cemetery map we got out of the car and started to look around. We picked an older section to start in and began to walk up and down the rows. I was sure we would find someone on the list as the numbers were on our side. It was a fairly small cemetery with 3539 residents of which 30 were on the list for a photo. The odds were with me that I had to find a few of them.

In the end it was just me, being closely watched.

In the end it was just me, being closely watched.

Did I mention that it was very hot and humid? After about an hour of looking my eagle-eyed scout, announced that she would be heading back to the car. However I was free to look as long as I wanted. I said that was very nice of her. But all I got was the look. If you have been married any time at all you know what the look is. I must say in our 43 years of marriage I have seen that look a few times. I stomped through the cemetery for an hour plus but did not find any of the names on the list. Also knowing that out of the 3539 residents only 58 photos had been taken of headstones, I thought I would take some photos of the older or more interesting stones to post them to “Find A Grave”. I won’t say how many I took, but believe me it was a good number. Not willing to give up yet I joined my wife in the car, and we drove through the cemetery seeing if she could spot any names from the car. No luck.

A great place to stop when in Fly Creek, N.Y.

A great place to stop when in Fly Creek, N.Y.


The best part of the day was we drove into Fly Creek to have a quick bite to eat. We went to our favorite place the Fly Creek General Store. Here you can buy gasoline, groceries, clothing, DVDs, fishing bait, and sandwiches from a great deli. I was reminded that we had worked past lunch time. Since it was about 3pm we decided to split a turkey sandwich and not spoil our supper. The food as always was great and we bought a loaf of homemade apple bread with Carmel drizzled over it to take home. As luck would have it right across the street was a moving sale and we purchased a nice lamp. On the way back we stopped at a quilt shop in the area my wife likes. But we arrived too late as they closed early on Saturdays during the summer. I was reminded that if we had stopped on the way down (like she wanted) she would have been able to look around and perhaps buy a few things. I turned the air conditioner up, as it was getting a little warmer.

A nice lunch to relax with.

A nice lunch to relax with.


Oh yes out of all the photos I took that day only one was not already taken. Of the 58 that were already taken how did I ever manage to take the same ones? Also how could I manage not to find one of the 30 names I was looking for? After all I was just trying to do a good deed

A nice yard sale to explore

A nice yard sale to explore

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