In the Kitchen

 

Every generation probably has its kitchen stories. My story is one of disaster. My kitchen has no cabinets. The floor is in disrepair and the ceiling looks up to the floor above. Someday perhaps I may get a new kitchen.

My mother’s kitchen was large, but it was not always so. The previous owners had made changes. The original kitchen was L shaped with the furnace and washing machine in the L. They added a utility room and moved the furnace and laundry to the utility room. They then opened the center of the L to make a square room but then put a wall to divide the room into two rectangular rooms. The rooms were narrow and if people sat on both sides of the table they were wall to wall. My mom hated it and asked dad to get rid of the wall. Dad kept putting it off. One day when dad was on the 4-12 shift, Mom and I knocked the wall out except for some 2x4s. I was only about 8 or 9 years old. When dad came home was he surprised.

When my mom was little her family would go to the Colby farm and camp out. She made it sound like they were going to a summer camp, but I suspect that my grandfather was really helping on the farm and my grandmother was working in the kitchen tent. I have a picture of her sitting in front of the tent.

Namesake

 

Some of my ancestors were named for other family members. I wrote of some of these in another blog post “Same Name”. But there were some others I didn’t mention. My mother and here sisters first names were from characters in a book my grandmother read. They were Yvonne, Bonalyn, Millicent and Constance. I wish I knew the title of the book. My mother’s middle name was my grandmother’s sister’s middle name, Arlene. The only problem was the doctor misspelled it as Arline. When I was born I was given my mother’s name reversed, Arlene Millicent. As for my grandmother, her name was Hazel, and she said she’d come back and haunt anyone who named their child Hazel. He sister’s first name was Mabel. I don’t know if those names were unattractive in the 1890s, but they would not have been choices my mom and her sisters would have chosen in the mid twentieth century.

My grandfather, Edward Wiedrich may have had a middle name. I’ve seen some evidence that his middle name was McKinley. Was he named for the president? My paternal aunt, Carolyn Moore’s middle name was Grover and I wonder if she was named for Grover Cleveland.

My son, Sean was named for John Wayne’s character in the movie “The Quiet Man”. It was a favorite movie of both my husband and me. We had decided that if we had a girl next we would name her Mary Kate after Maureen O’Hara’s character in the same movie. Mary Kate turned out to be a boy and so he was named for the commander of the Alamo, William Travis. Travis’ middle name is Earl after my father.

#Namesake, #52 Ancestors, #Hazel Bristol, #Edward Wiedrich, #Caroline Moore, #Sean Baker, #Travis Baker

Favorite Discovery

 

Favorite Discovery

My favorite discovery as I’ve researched my family tree is finding Andrew AJ Moore. It began with my search for my Moore great grandfather. The only thing I knew was that the family had come from New Egypt, NJ before settling in Camden, NJ. I wasn’t sure of his name although my h brother and father both were named Charles Shoemaker Moore. When my brother was born my aunt, the family matriarch wanted him to have that name. My parents settled on a different name. But the fact that the name meant so much in the family I decided to search for a great grandfather with that name. Also, he would have been the right age to have served in the Civil War. I went to the NJ Archives to search. Surprisingly my guesses were correct, and I found him easily. Census records for New Egypt led me to find the names of his parents and siblings. From there I went to the Plumsted, NJ clerk. New Egypt is within Plumsted. I asked if they had any information on Charles S Moore or his father John Moore. It was tax time and the clerk said they didn’t have time right now and took my information and phone number. About six weeks later they called and said someone else was asking for the same information. If I gave permission they would give my name and phone number to those people.

Within in a few days I received a call from Jack and Fran Born. Fran was also a great granddaughter of Charles Moore. We talked on the phone and they invited me to visit them in Absecon, NJ. They were such nice people, and we had a pleasant and productive visit. They had Charles’ original Civil War discharge paper. As we talked the said they family stories said someone supposedly was in the 7^th Calvary. They also heard someone participated in the Greenwich, NJ tea party before the Revolutionary Way (so far I’ve found no evidence of that).

I found a book about the 7^th Calvary and the men who served in that regiment. And there was Andrew AJ Moore who had also been in the census in the John Moore family. About this time there was a program on TV about the fire at Little Big Horn battlefield. Historians and scientists were able to study the battlefield forensically as the grass had been burned away revealing spent shells. They described the progression of the battle and how individual troopers and Native Americans moved by matching the spent shells. One of the people was Dr. Wiley who was a professor at a California college. I took a chance and emailed him. His first reply was the next morning and he said that he was in the Middle East on an archaeological dig and didn’t have his notes on the Little Big Horn study. But then he emailed again a few hours later with information. He studied the medical records of the troopers. He found that Andrew had malaria while the 7^th was in South Carolina but had only been treated once. He also found records that Andrew had been shot in the kidneys during the battle and that was his cause of death.

Since I’ve found books that told of Andrew’s movements and death by name. Later I was able to visit the battlefield. A park ranger looked up information the Andrew was buried on the riffle line by his buddies during the battle and a dead horse was put on top of his grave. Because of this his body was never recovered and buried in the mass grave. It was a moving experience for me to stand on that rifle line and know I’ve been the only family visit that grave and remember him.

#Andrew Moore, #52 Ancestors, #Favorite Discovery, #7^th Calvary, #Little Big Horn, #Charles S. Moore

Same Name

Naming is such a huge responsibility. When you name a child that name will more than likely stick for the rest of their life. Are you giving them the right name? Is this a name that will cause other people especially children will taunt them? I think about students I taught and think what their parents was thinking when they named this child. Just like Johnny Cash singing about a boy named Sue I remember a young man named Lynn. How many times did this great kid have to fight about his name?

Then there’s the confusion of naming a child after a family member. Among my relatives three generations named Charles Shoemaker Moore. This caused some family squabbles when my aunt wanted my parent’s future son named Charles Shoemaker Moore. My mom put her foot down saying he would not have the name Shoemaker It was baseball season and my dad said if it was a boy he would name him Terry Moore after the manager of the Phillies baseball team. As luck would have it my brother was prematurely born shortly after this squabble and so Terry Charles Moore was the name he was given.

Other same name relatives had found ways to differentiate who you were talking to or referring about. So, we had Big John and Little John (shades of Robing Hood), Big Helen and Little Helen, Big Margaretta and Baby Margaretta (awkward when she was a teenager).

My husband’s family penchant for the name William causes so much trouble when referring to one of them. My husband William is named for his father William and named his first-born son William.  Both of his grandfathers are named William. Two of his three known great grandfathers are named William. His sister married a William and has a son William. His mother’s brother is named William and he has a son and grandson William. I suspect there are more Williams lurking in the family tree.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Same name, #Charles Moore, #William Baker

Close to Home

Traveling far from home is a relatively modern event for average people. My great grandmother, Sarah Corset Wiedrich was born in 1868 in Genesee County, NY. Like most people of her era she rarely would have traveled more that twenty or so miles from her home. She was in her 80s before she went any farther. We would visit her every August while I was growing up. I was not much more than a toddler when she went with us to Niagara Falls. It was just over 50 miles from her home, and this was her first visit. Later, when my grandparents had moved to Florida she traveled there to visit with them. For an average person born in 1868 who would have imaged traveling from western New York state to Florida. Today we go vast distances and think nothing of it. People fly a thousand miles just for the weekend.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #52 Ancestors Close to Home, #Sarah Wiedrich, #Sarah Corset

Far Away

I was lucky enough to have some aunts, uncles and cousins within two hours of where we lived when I was growing up. We got together regularly. Aunt Margaretta and Uncle Roy lived in the Belle Meade area in North Jersey, about two hours away. Aunt Helen and Uncle John lived in Egg Harbor, New Jersey, about 40 minutes away. At least once a month we would visit, usually going up on Saturday and coming home on Sunday. The family interactions were great.

But I truly missed having a grandparent close by. My dad’s parents were dead. My mom’s parents, Hazel and Edward Wiedrich lived in Tampa Florida. We would only see them once every one or two years. There were some phone calls but that was the days of long-distance telephone charges. Letters would be sent. I wish they were saved to cherish later. When you did get together everyone was on their best behavior. I remember my mom telling me she asked my grandmother not to yell at the antics of my cousins and us as she didn’t want us to remember her as grouchy. Of course, she wasn’t grouchy, just with so many of us all together in one house it could be unnerving. You see, my grandparents lived in an eighteenth-century Florida house. Downstairs were my grandparents and Aunt Yvonne. Upstairs were my Aunt Connie and Uncle George with their children – three when we were young and three more later. Add to that other visitors were not unusual, sometimes adding up to a dozen or more people all under one roof.

I thought my dream came true when I went to live with my grandmother after high school in order to go to college in Tampa. We did many things together and those times were special, but some many other things interfered. First of course I was homesick. Also, my Aunt Yvonne had a drinking problem, which made living there difficult. She would wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me the astronauts were causing bad weather (I was studying astronautical engineering) and doing embarrassing things when someone came to visit. Eventually it was too much and my mom wouldn’t let me take out a loan to live on campus, so I came home. The worse part was the day I left my grandmother said, “What will I tell my friends? My granddaughter doesn’t love me.” I know she still loved me, but I disappointed her. The pain of that statement has never left me. Perhaps being far away would have been less hurtful.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Hazel Wiedrich, #First time away from home

Long Feet

The 52 Ancestors’ prompt of “Long” made me wonder what to write about. Then I thought about the Moore feet. Most of us inherited the long somewhat narrow feet. My feet are long, size 10 or 11 depending on the style shoe. Add to that they’re flat. When I went for my induction physical for the Air Force they questioned those flat feet but passed me anyway. My dad, Earl Moore faced the same. When he was drafted into the army during WWII they questioned his long, flat feet but it was war and he was inducted. Then there’s my great grandfather Charles S. Moore. He served in the 4^th NJ Regimental Infantry during the Civil War. He must have been and ornery guy because he disobeyed and order to stopped shooting mules with dried corn kernels and shot again. They court marshaled him and docked his pay. The transcript of the court marshal contained a question about his being late for a battle. The sergeant explained that he had bad feet and couldn’t keep up with the rest, so they made him the wagoner. Those long, flat feet are still around in my family. When my oldest son, Sean was born the first thing my husband said was, “Oh no, he has your father’s feet.” And now I see my grandson, Finn and think, “Oh no, he has my father’s feet.”

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Long Feet, #Earl Moore, #Charles S. Moore

Favorite Photos

I've always liked this picture of my mom, Millicent “Midge” Moore and me. It was in front of our apartment at 803 Chambers Ave. in Gloucester City, NJ. I always feel a close to her when I see this picture. It’s black and white but I still see the colors. 

The second picture is my mom’s favorite picture. This is in DeSoto Park in Tampa, Florida. My grandmother, Hazel Wiedrich and my mom made a path up to their house using upturned car batteries (sorry, people were so environmental conscience in the early 1950s). The third person is me.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Favorite Photos, #Arlene Moore, #Millicent Wiedrich, #Hazel Bristol

Fresh Start

How great is a fresh start? A chance to begin again with nothing hanging over your head. It seems it doesn’t come along often enough. Sometimes changing jobs can be a fresh start. I was lucky. I had a fresh start every year. I was a teacher.

Every September I began again. New students and a start at the beginning of the course again. It meant trying something new or eliminating something not successful. It meant developing a relationship with new students. Because I had multiple certifications, it sometimes meant not only different courses but different disciplines. This year it might be reading and Jr Hi math, next it might be earth science, life science, general science or High School math. It was exciting and refreshing. It’s hard to imagine any other job having that opportunity. Well, unless you count being a student a “job”.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors Fresh Start, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Fresh Start, #Teaching

School Days at Highland Park School

Highland Park School in Gloucester City, NJ was a four-classroom school when I attended from 1957 to 1961. In the basement was the lunchroom (it may have been a kindergarten room in the morning). My Brownie Scout troop met in the basement. I have fond memories of Mrs. Davidson and Mrs. Blanche Moen teaching us scout songs, making butter and crossing a bridge to a higher troop. I had attended Monmouth St. school for kindergarten before we moved to the Cypress Gardens section of the city.

Our class was quite large and was the only grade in our classroom. Some of the other grades were grouped two grades in one classroom.  My first-grade teacher was Mrs. Cole. She was the meanest person I ever met in my childhood. She would smack us, hit us, pull our hair and ears and verbally abuse us. Once when I had a wrong math problem she ripped my skirt off my body. That little navy-blue pleated skirt is seared into my memory. Why didn’t we tell our parents? She told us she would kill us if  we did. Kids were having night terrors, wetting the bed, and afraid to go to school. A classmate told me years later about meeting Mrs. Cole while grocery shopping with his mother and shaking in his shoes while she sweet talked his mother. I had a child nervous breakdown. After nightmares, crying and saying I was afraid to go to school my mother went to see the teacher. She said I was a terrible child and that my kindergarten teacher said that too. My mom went back to my old school and told Mrs. Barr, my kindergarten teacher what Mrs. Cole said. Mrs. Barr asked who my teacher was and when told it was Mrs. Cole she said my mom should go to Miss Mary Ethel Costello, the Asst. Superintendent of Schools. I was called to the principal’s room (she taught 2^nd grade) while all the other children were outside on the playground. Present besides the principal were Miss Costello, Mrs. Cole and me. Not even my mother. I was asked all the things Mrs. Cole was doing to the children. I told them everything (can’t believe I was that brave, but I was truthful). Then they called my mom on the telephone and had me repeat everything I had told them.  What was the result of this inquisition? Mrs. Cole would remain our teacher and would be fired at the end of the school year. As for me, I would still be in her class. She ignored me the rest of the year. This situation would be all over the news if it happened today. When she left at the end of the year they found empty gin bottles hidden all over the classroom, cloak room and the basement. I sometimes marvel that after that experience I loved school and ironically became a math teacher.

Mrs. Farina, the principal,  was my second-grade teacher. I don’t remember much about that year. The most overwhelming memory is that I was behind thanks to Mrs. Cole. I think I sat behind Joanne (Dee) Davidson as we were two of the tallest kids in the class. I remember looking over Dee’s shoulder to see her paper. I knew Mrs. Farina knew I was looking at other people’s papers, but she never said anything. She let me catch up and later I could do my work on my own.

Third grade was Mrs. Barrish  (not sure of the spelling). I remember very little. She was young and in my mind pretty. I think her husband may have been in the military. She left after that year.

Fourth grade was Mrs. Angrabe. I started that school year late. I had an emergency appendectomy at the end of August. In those days you were in the hospital for a week or more. I had some complications and was in about 10 days. I began the school year two weeks or so late. Then I wasn’t allowed on the playground at recess as a precaution, so I spent it in the classroom with Mrs. Angrabe. This was the first time I remember having science. I loved it. I was fascinated with space and space travel. Mrs. Angrabe’s husband taught science at my next school, M. E. Costello. This was Mrs. Angrabe’s last year teaching. She was pregnant with her first child. She was a great teacher and I loved her and her class. The next year Highland Park students went to Costello school. My classroom teacher was Miss  Perry. There we would have Mr. Angrabe for science. But tragedy would strike. Mrs. Angrabe would die shortly after having her baby. It was traumatic for young children who had spent so much of the previous year with her. Ironically Miss Perry would later marry Mr. Angrabe.

Highland Park gave us a great start. Our independence started. Probably our first days away from mom or a babysitter. Most of us walked to school by ourselves. Classes were large but for the most part we were taught well.

#Highland Park School, #Gloucester City, NJ schools, #52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2019, #School days, #Gloucester City, NJ

At Work in the Grocery Store

At Work in the Grocery Store

For most of us we spend more time at work than any other activity except sleeping. I spent 37 years as a teacher and then school librarian. I also worked as a substitute teacher for 5 years both before and after being a regular teacher. I was a referee high school hockey, basketball and softball for about 10 years while working at my other jobs. But, before all that I worked four years in a grocery store working my way through college. I wish I kept a journal all those years – so many memories lost.

I worked at Two Guys grocery store in Cherry Hill where I stocked shelves. Mary Matolla, an older lady, and I were the only female stock “boys”. The guys were a variety of young and old. I don’t remember all the names. Jack Cassidy was about my age. He was a typical young guy of that era, long hair, drugs, former college student. He was a pleasant guy to work with. Another one whose name I can’t remember was about the same age and went to the Rochester Institute of Technology. Reds Gilbert(?) worked part time at Two Guys and full time at another grocery store with my mom. He got me the job. John Slane was the assistant manager of the stock bunch. He was a homosexual whose adversity made him a little negative. The guys were so intolerant. He was always nice to me and I counted him a friend. Myrtle Kennedy, Chris and Shirley Dill were some of the cashiers. Myrtle was older and a little tough but nice too. Chris was about my age and like Jack Cassidy was a child of the hippie generation. Shirley was a nice person, basically happy while raising a family and working full time. Later my mom would occasionally see her at bingo. Earl was the produce man who lived in Westville. Minnie Rosencrantz worked in the meat department. I grew up in an Irish Catholic town and unbelievably I didn’t know Minnie was Jewish until after several years she was talking about a holiday. She laughed when I told her I thought she was Italian. Mr. Hanigan was the receiver. Mr. Pratt was the area supervisor. He was a large heavy man who had been an Army officer and ran and treated us like we were his soldiers. Eugene Salzgruber worked in the department store side. I dated him a few times and was on a company bowling team with him. He was a big happy guy. I think he eventually married an older woman with children and died somewhat young.  My job was mainly the “candy aisle”. It ran the entire length of the row, quite long. I’ve never seen that much in any other store. Also, there would be displays on the endcaps. I also stocked other things as needed. The worst was the sugar. The pallet weighed 1 ton or more and you would have pull it out with a manual hand truck that had the forks of a forklift truck. The aisles were wide enough that the pallet could be pulled down it. Occasionally I was puzzled when a customer would call you boy when my hair was to my waist and I wore a pink smock. OK, the guys at that time had long hair. I hated the beginning of the month when food stamps came out and I would have to jump on the register. No scanners in those day and items would be marked like 3 for 59 cents and you would have to figure out how much the one can they bought cost. That way if they bought just one the price would be a penny more. Registers didn’t calculate change.

I worked there for 4 years. At the time I didn’t always think it was the best job but looking back it was a good job. The pay was good. I graduated from college not owing a dime. It was an introduction to the working world and working with a variety of people. Sometimes I think I should have kept that job a little part time one after becoming a teacher. Teaching paid less than being a grocery clerk and would have been a supplement.

#Grocery Store, #Work, #First Job, #52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors-At Work

My Ancestors Jobs

Earl left officer

My dad, Earl Moore was a policeman. After WWII he worked in a wood working job for a short time before joining the Gloucester City, NJ police department. In those days 2 officers rode in a car. His first partner was Bud Lane. He was a good guy and a good partner. One day they drove into the alley at the department and he went inside. Bud stayed in the car. When my dad came back out Bud had suffered a heart attack and died.
A few years later he became a sergeant. His partner was Steve Farrell. Our families would do things together like going to an amusement park. Then he became Chief of Police about 1961. My dad had a good heart and I think he was respected.

Midge on far rt.

My mom, Millicent "Midge" (Wiedrich) Moore worked many years in grocery stores including ACME markets and Thriftway. Once she was held up with a gun held to her head. Later she worked for Oakwood Uniform in their office. But before all this she worked as a waitress in a diner. She started work at 12 years old after school. The diner was Security on Crescent Blvd. (Rt. 130) in West Collingswood Heights, NJ.

Ed on ice wagon

My grandfather, Edward Wiedrich was many things. He was a merchant sailor in WWI and in WWII. He was an iceman when he met my grandmother. Then he worked in the Wierd Plow factory. After work he cleaned up at the bean factory, bringing home the sweepings for his kids to pick out the stray beans. (It was the depression.) After moving to Florida he worked in a boat yard building boats.

Hazel's Doll Hospital

My grandmother, Hazel (Bristol) Wiedrich learned the trade of men's tailoring and haberdashery. After she married and had children she had a doll hospital. There were boxes with various color eyes, things to restring dolls, paints to restore china dolls, different color hair. She would even give dolls hair from the person.

Charles' crew

My paternal grandfather, Charles S. Moore was a waterman. He built wharfs, piers and bridges over water. Much of his
work was done in Camden, NJ but he did work other places. Later he was the foreman. One of the bridges he built was a train bridge either to or from Westville, NJ.




My paternal great grandfather, Charles S. Moore was a cooper and a carpenter. My maternal 2nd great grandfather had a public house (saloon) in Grafton, Dakota Territory in the 1880s and then went to Great Falls, Montana and had a hotel. Most everyone else on my mom's side were farmers.

#Earl Moore, #Policeman, #Millicent Moore, #Millicent Wiedrich, #Waitress, #Edward Weidrich, #Sailor, #Iceman, #Hazel Wiedrich, #Hazel Bristol, #Haberdashery, #Dolls, #Charles S. Moore, #Waterman, #Carpenter, #Cooper

At Work In the Grocery Store

For most of us we spend more time at work than any other activity except sleeping. I spent 37 years as a teacher and then school librarian. I also worked as a substitute teacher for 5 years both before and after being a regular teacher. Before that I worked four years in a grocery store working my way through college. I refereed high school hockey, basketball and softball for about 10 years while working at my other jobs. I wish I kept a journal all those years – so many memories lost.

I worked at Two Guys grocery store in Cherry Hill where I stocked shelves. Mary Matolla, an older lady, and I were the only female stock “boys”. The guys were a variety of young and old. I don’t remember all the names. Jack Cassidy was about my age. He was a typical young guy of that era, long hair, drugs, former college student. He was a pleasant guy to work with. Another one whose name I can’t remember was about the same age and went to the Rochester Institute of Technology. Reds Gilbert(?) worked part time at Two Guys and full time at another grocery was with my mom. He got me the job. John Slane was the assistant manager of the stock bunch. He was a homosexual whose adversity made him a little negative. But he was always nice to me and I counted him a friend. Myrtle Kennedy, Chris and Shirley were some of the cashiers. Myrtle was older and a little tough but nice too. Chris was about my age and like Jack Cassidy was a child of the hippie generation. Shirley was a large lady and a nice person, basically happy. Later my mom would occasionally see her at bingo. Earl was the produce man who lived in Westville. Minnie Rosencrantz worked in the meat department. I grew up in an Irish Catholic town and unbelievably I didn’t know Minnie was Jewish until after several years she was talking about a holiday. Mr. Hanigan was the receiver. Mr. Pratt was the area supervisor. He was a large heavy man who had been an Army officer and ran and treated us like we were his soldiers. Eugene Salzgruber worked in the department store side. I dated him a few times and was on a company bowling team with him. He was a big happy guy. I think he eventually married an older woman with children and died somewhat young.  My job was mainly the “candy aisle”. It ran the entire length of the row, quite long. I’ve never seen that much in any other store. Also, there would be displays on the endcaps. I also stocked other things as needed. The worst was the sugar. The pallet weighed 1 to 2 tons you and would pull it out with a manual hand truck that had the forks of a forklift truck. The aisles were wide enough that the pallet could be pulled down it. Occasionally it was puzzling when a customer would call you boy when my hair was to my waist and I wore a pink smock. OK, the guys at that time had long hair. I hated the beginning of the month when food stamps came out and I would have to jump on the register. No scanners in those day and items would be marked like 3 for 59 cents. That way if they bought just one the price would be a penny more. Registered didn’t calculate change. Sometimes I think I should have continued to work part time after I started teaching since I made less teaching. It wasn’t such a bad job.

#Work, #Grocery stores, #52 Ancestors, #Two Guys store, #Arlene Baker, #Arlene Moore, #52 Ancestors - Work

Tragedy

Tragedy

While visiting Maple Lawn Cemetery in Elba, New York, I noticed three small headstones. This cemetery published a booklet of obituaries for people buried there. I learned the story of these small headstones.

A family had three small children. An epidemic occurred and one of the children died. The parents went to the cemetery to bury their child and when they returned home a second child had died. Then only a short time later a third child died.

I can’t even imagine surviving that loss and remain sane. This was probably not a really rare occurrence one hundred years ago and fortunately today this would be a rare occurrence. The loss of even one child is tragic but to lose more in such a short time had to be unbearable.

This cemetery was so beautifully maintained and to make a booklet with the obituaries is such caring project.

#Loss of child, #52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors - Tragedy, #Maple Lawn Cemetery, Elba, NY

Weirdly Comical

Weirdly Comical

There were two incidents in my grandmother, Hazel Bristol Wiedrich’s life that relate to the fact she only had one leg. Her leg was amputated when she was a teen after about 19 operations stemming from a bone issue that wouldn’t heal.

Once when on a family outing she was in a car crash. My grandfather was driving a station wagon along a highway in Florida. This was about 1963. In the car besides my grandfather and grandmother were my aunt Yvonne, cousin Patsy and her daughter Cindy and Mrs. Thorp, a family friend from NJ. There were no speed limits or at least they weren’t enforced at that time. My grandfather was going at a high rate of speed when he went off the side of the highway. The car was thrown. My grandmother was thrown from the front passenger seat into the back seat. Everyone had some injuries, some minor and some serious. My grandmother was almost scalped. Of course, head wounds bleed a lot and my grandmother was covered in blood. People stopped to help and when they pulled my grandmother out of the car they all got very upset shouting “She’s lost her leg. Look for it.” My grandmother was somewhat in shock, but she said in her mind she was laughing that people were running around looking for a leg she had lost 40 years before.

Another incident that involved here missing leg was when she had her Gaul bladder out. It was an emergency surgery and the doctor visited her each day following the surgery. They kept you in the hospital for quite a few days at that time. The day before she was to be released she asked the doctor if she could use her crutches. The doctor replied, “I operated on you stomach. Why would you need crutches?” She replied, “If I don’t it’s the first time in almost 40 years. I only have one leg.” The doctor through back the sheets and said, “Oh, my God, you only have one leg.” It took a long time for him to live that one down. It goes to show he only looked at what he was supposed to although this was the same hospital that years later amputated someone’s wrong leg not once but twice.

Thankfully there are sometimes a funny moment during difficult times to help us keep our sanity.

#Hazel Wiedrich, #Wiedrrich, Hazel, #52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors Comedy, #Amputees

Sisters

Sisters

I’ve never had a sister, so I feel I know little of the topic. My knowledge is from my mom and her sisters. They were four, Yvonne, Bonnalyn, Millicent (my mom) and Constance. The older two were separated by a few years from the younger two. Still they were close but had what I assume to be the normal sisterly rivalries.

I hear of all their adventures in childhood. They roller skated in the second open floor bedroom of their farmhouse. Sounds like they were incorrigible, but this was during the terrible northwestern New York winters. They swam in the Tonawanda Creek at the back of their properties. Well, not my mother so much as she had a fear of the water. When I was young we went to their swimming hole for a swim. The water was freezing. Mom told of how she, Yvonne and Connie took lots belts and belted Bonnie’s bed so that she had to do a lot of unbuckling to get in bed. She was the bookworm and didn’t participate in all their shenanigans. At times they were all together in the same school room as they attended a one-room schoolhouse.

When they moved to New Jersey a year or so before WWII they lived in a truck that was converted into a trailer. This made for tight quarters. They my grandfather went to sea for a year and sent home no support. My grandmother only had one leg, and this was very hard on her. Yvonne was out of school and worked as a waitress. My mom was 12-yrs-old and worked at the diner with Yvonne after school. They supported the family.

In adulthood they continued to stay close. My family and Bonnie’s lived in southern New Jersey. Connie and Yvonne’s family lived in Florida. But we still would see each regularly. My family and Bonnie’s were together regularly. Thanksgiving was always celebrated together. My cousins went to Delsea Regional HS and my brother and I went to Gloucester City HS. Our schools played football against each other on Thanksgiving, so Bonnie made dinner if it was at Delsea and my mom made dinner if it was at Gloucester. 

They always kept a bond even though there was of course some competition, especially when it came to brag about their children. I loved all the stories, but sisterhood is still a bit of a mystery to me.

#Sisters, #52 Ancestors – Sisters, #52 Ancestors, #Wiedrich sisters

Brothers = David Cicero

Brothers – David Cicero

Not all brothers are biologic. Sometimes God drops a brother into the family because he knows it just completes it. That’s what happened to my family. We got Dave Cicero who could not be a better brother.

Dave became a part of our family when his mother died, and his father could not care for him. He became a foster child to my aunt. Our families were close, so Dave was always there. He was special to my mom and dad. When I was born Dave was a young teenager. I still have the donkey stuffed animal he gave me.

He is smart and worked as an engineer including designing things for the space program. If you’ve ever bought some honey in the little bear container you’ve seen something he designed. If you’re old enough you may remember chocolate syrup in a robot container (I think it may have been called “clanky”) you’ve seen something else he designed.

If he has a flaw it’s staying away from injury. He’s tussled with bikes, army gas masks, 5-ton trucks and big pots, not to mention motorcycles and tires falling off a car. I’m thankful a guardian angel has kept him around for his and our family.

When you’re a child you don’t know the reality of things. It took many years for me to know that my aunt didn’t treasure him as much as my family did. Dave was always being punished for some infraction that was usually the fault of my aunt’s adopted son. She passed up a chance to adopt a better son, but I think her prejudice prevented her from adopting Dave. It pains me to hear him refer to her as Mrs. Ludlum when he was her foster child for 17 years and she never let him call her mom or mother or any other maternal name.

After my aunt died, David lived with us until he got married. He worked for RCA and bought a color TV. His bedroom was upstairs, and my little brother and I weren’t supposed to go in his room. One night the Wizard of Oz was on TV. Dave brought us up to his room to watch his TV. I still remember my amazement when Dorothy opened the door and black and white turned to color.

After he married our families spent holidays together. When his children arrived, I was a babysitter for them. My mom and dad were God parents for their oldest child. When my dad was dying, Dave was by his bedside and when my mom was ill, not only was he for us but his daughter and son-in-law helped navigate the medical maze.

Dave is the most loving, compassionate, totally good person on the planet, and I’m blessed to have him as a brother.

#52 Ancestors Brothers, #52 Ancestors, #Brothers, #Foster children, #Cicero, David, #David Cicero

Same Name

Parents often want to honor someone in their family. My 2^nd great grandfather was named Charles Shoemaker Moore. That name was passed on to his oldest son who passed it on to his oldest son. When my brother was born there was a disagreement about his name. My dad’s sister wanted it to be Charles Shoemaker Moore, but my mom didn’t like Shoemaker for part of his name. On a hot August dinner after some arguing my dad said he would name him Terry after the Philadelphia Phillies manager, Terry Moore. My mom said fine, but little did she know that the next day my brother would be born premature. So, his name was Terry Charles Moore.

Other relatives sharing a name with a child or grandchild would have adjectives added to differentiate. So, there was Big Helen and Little Helen, Big John and Little John, Big Margaretta and Baby Margaretta. My name is a reversal of my mother’s. Hers Millicent Arline and mine Arlene Millicent.

In my husband’s family William is a very common name and not always bestowed on a child but a spouse marrying into the family having William as a name. My husband is William as is his oldest son. His father, both grandfathers and two great grandfathers are all named William. His mother’s brother and his sister’s spouse are Williams. Two cousins and a nephew are named William.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2018, #52 Ancestors Same Name

Going to the Chapel

Bill and I decided to get married while at Annual Training for  the Army National Guard in June of 1981. We picked July 18^th giving us about one month to plan. My parents were probably thrilled I was getting married but I’m sure my mom was a little disappointed that it would not be the wedding she would have like. My parents were married in the home of my dad’s sister, Caroline. It was a simple affair with just a few friends.

We planned a church wedding at the First Methodist Church in Gloucester City, NJ – my home town. We only planned for a matron of honor and a best man. My matron was Letitia Sarracino. We were both teachers at the same high school where we were students just one year apart. My friend Irma Zank was the soloist and we three were active in that church. Jimmy Ridge, a distant cousin played the organ. Bill’s best man was his uncle, Joe Baker.

I had picked a gown that I easily got off the bridal rack at Penney’s. No alterations necessary. The day of the wedding came, and it was a sunny, hot July day. The photographer was someone my dad knew who took the Little League pictures. Our neighbor loaned us his nice car and one of the students from school asked if he could be the driver. We arrived at church, but Bill’s mom wasn’t there. After about a half hour delay she arrived with her sister-in-law and nephew Bill and his family. Nephew Bill couldn’t find his shoes and that held them up. Meanwhile my Bill was the room at the rear of the church not knowing what was happening. He worried I might have changed my mind. The ceremony continued without any other delays.

The reception was in my parents’ back yard. Me, my mom, her friends and mine all helped to make the food. My friend Judy made sure the food was ready to eat and her husband served drinks at a home bar set up in the yard. My mom wanted music and so she got some sheets of plywood laid down in the yard and my brother’s boom box provided the music. Friends, neighbors and relatives were invited. The high school softball team I coached all came too as did some of our army friends. Everyone seemed to have a good time. I had chosen my cake with several pastel colors. Letitia ‘Tish’ was pregnant, and I had told her to pick a dress she like in whatever color she wanted. She chose a peachy, melon color so the cake was planned to go with what ever she picked. Bill and I cut the cake and left the rest to be cut by Judy. When our first anniversary came around I asked if we were supposed to eat a piece of wedding cake. That’s when I found out that the top layers of the cake had slid off and onto the floor due to the high heat. No air conditioning at my mom’s house.

Eventually the day came to an end and Bill and I left for a trip out west. We stayed in a nearby motel that first night and then headed to New Mexico and Arizona for a two-week honeymoon. My mother-in-law took care of Bill’s 4 kids at her home in Cape May until our return.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2018, #Weddings, #Arlene Baker

So Far Away

I grew up with only one set of living grandparents. My dad’s parents died 30 years before I was born. My mon’s parents lived in Tampa, Florida, 1100 miles away from us. In the 50s and 60s most people didn’t travel far very often. I would see my grandparents about once every two years. Sometimes we would go to Florida by car (a 3-day journey before interstate highways), sometimes by bus or train. Sometimes my grandparents would drive up here to NJ. There were letters and phone calls (not too often with those long-distance charges). But those things don’t make up for the loss of close regular contact with grandparents. My grandparents and parents made sure those visits were perfect. I loved and adored them. Of course, as and adult I would see their flaws. I loved them but grieve for not knowing them better and they not knowing me better.

I am so blessed to spend frequent time with my grandchildren. I hope that they will have many fond memories and feel they’ve been short changed with quality grandparent time.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2018, #Grandparents