Wednesday, December 30, 2015

You Think You're Prepared.......

I had my wonderful father, Edward Anthony Kerkhoff, for over 49 years, and I know I'm blessed. I know I should be thanking God (and I am). But right now, all I can seem to focus on is that I'll never touch his hand again or hear him answer the phone.

I should probably wait to write this post about Dad. But it's very important that his future generations know him, and I want to get this down on paper. Maybe I'll write something more eloquent later. But considering that I'm not normally eloquent, that probably won't happen.

What do I want my great grandchildren to know about my dad?

He was a calm and gentle soul. However, if you wanted to tick him off, just disrespect my mom (even a little). This sweet man NEVER tolerated that. Mom was #1 for him (with the exception of God), and that's the way it should be.

Any Purgatory time he was going to have to endure was mitigated (if not completely erased) by the evenings he spent with me at the kitchen table, teaching me Chemistry and/or Algebra. The more I cried and screamed, the calmer he got. But I knew that he couldn't understand why I didn't understand these subjects. He never made me feel stupid. He always told me I'd get it (even though I never did).

He loved airplanes and anything aviation. He took me to the Air Force Museum (Dayton, Ohio) and
the Blue Ash Airport every year (or so it seems to me). Even as a little kid, I cherished these moments. He seemed to know everything about every aircraft in the museum. He used to lift me up and place me on one of the pillars of the small airport so we could watch planes take off and land. He always knew which type of aircraft we were looking at and would tell me other facts (which went in one ear and out the other).

Alms Park and the Cement Slide!  It just didn't get any better than this for a family picnic. Plus, we would watch planes at Lunken.

He was a faith filled, devoutly Catholic man. He lived it. He walked the walk. His faith wasn't something he "showed off" on Sundays. It was something he showed to me (and all of us) every minute of every day. But he revealed it silently, humbly.

His blue eyes sparkled when he laughed. And he laughed a lot.

And he cried. When we found out that Sarah had died (but before she was born),  I witnessed my dad kneeling in  prayer and pleading with God to take him and not his granddaughter. "Please God, take me and not Sarah. I've had a good life. Please don't take her. Take me."  This was in 1991.

He loved his family--his Peachee, kids, grandkids, brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, cousins,
etc). He loved family reunions and being in the presence of all of us.

He was kind--truly kind. And that is something that is very rare.

More Purgatory time was shaved off his time when he taught me how to drive a stick shift. "Feel the clutch, Marti."  WHAT?!  WHAT?!  SH!T--D@MN--SH!T (as I popped the clutch)!  "Feel the clutch."  WHAAAAAAAT???!!!!!  I'm surprised he didn't have to seek medical treatment for whiplash after spending more than 5 minutes with me trying to drive the Mazda GLC.

He was a master of the "airplanes" at Kings Island and taught me how to snap the cables. People would literally point at us as we sailed over their heads and then snapped the cables. He loved roller coasters (like his mom, Grandma Ada). I could never tell when the Barrels ride actually started because Dad would get those things spinning so fast, right away (as soon as we sat down). He loved "The Beast" and the "Rotor."

He told me that my job as a mother was to raise a moral, ethical, law abiding citizen who could get out and do it on his/her own. My job was not to be that child's friend. There would be days, weeks, months that go by that the child truly believed he/she hated me. If I was doing what needed to be done to raise a moral, ethical, law abiding citizen, the so be it.

He created his own Cincinnati chili recipe, and we'd have chili parties. He kept his recipe a secret until the last few years before his death.  Everyone loved his chili. Everyone but me. He knew it, and it was ok. I just ate hot dogs with shredded cheese during those parties.

When I was in high school, he was a victim of age discrimination. I watched my father do what was necessary to support his family as he became a Mason public school bus driver. I also saw my father sad and in emotional pain. But I never saw him truly angry or full of rage.  Sad but never vengeful.

Dad called me once because Mom put him up to it. She wanted resolution to a certain issue, but I couldn't agree to what she wanted me to. It sounds more dramatic than it was, but it was something I felt strongly about. Mom understood that but was trying to balance other issues with it. When Dad called and gently brought up the subject, I blew. I rarely lost my temper with Dad, but I did this time. He listened and then calmly asked me, "Is this something you'll have to answer to God for?"  Yeah Dad, it is. "Then do what you need to do."  He didn't ask me to explain my position. He didn't require I run it past him before he supported me. He trusted me.

He loved Christmas morning. He would plonk himself down on the floor (late Christmas afternoon or early evening) and play with my friends and me and the Fisher Price Castle. He loved (along with Mom) calling us, one by one, to come through the sheet to see what Santa had brought us. He loved being one of Santa's helpers on Christmas Eve night as he visited our family party and thrill the grandkids. 

He taught our dog Kahnsy how to swim in our pool and get herself out of the pool (using the ladder).
Dad was afraid she'd fall in and not be able to get out. He made sure she could.

He saved my nephew Brandon's life during the 1974 tornado. He grabbed him (from where Brandon--a few weeks old--was sleeping) and quickly brought him down into the basement. And just as they both got down into the basement, I heard glass breaking and "the train" overhead. The tornado story could be its own blog entry. CAN'T A MAN EAT IN PEACE???!!!  LOL!

Dad always told us he loved us. Actually, it was usually "Luvs ya" as he was kissing you goodbye.

He held our hands while he was in the hospital for the last time. He liked us (Mom, the 7 kids, his sisters, grandkids, etc) there with him. Even when we thought he was "out of it" (due to his pain medications), he let us know he wasn't. If we tried to pull our hands away from his before he was ready, he would tighten his hold on us.

He never took me (or any of my siblings, I think) camping because "I camped enough during the war."  Who can argue with that?

He was a great story teller. His infamous "Shot at and missed--Shit on and hit" WWII tale is classic. So is the story about how he found out his real name was Edward Anthony and not Edward Frederic like he had thought for he first almost 18 years of his life.  His recitation of the events that got him expelled from Covington Latin for smoke bombs was a joy.

Dad's death had NOTHING to do with Alzheimer's and/or dementia. I don't care what's on his death certificate. One of his doctors made some notation about Alzheimer's and/or dementia years ago (in his chart), and we were never able to get it removed. Dad had NPH. That means he had NormalPressure Hydrocephalus. That was commonly misdiagnosed as Alzheimer's or Parkinson's. Dad was not in the midst of dementia when he died. He was "with it."  The shunt he had in his brain (for the NPH) did its job. I hate that the official cause of his death is not absolutely correct.

I think this will be an entry I constantly update. If you have a story about Dad, will you please share it?  I'll add photos later. But I feel a "push" to get this out out there.

I'd like to speak to my great great grandchildren--Please know that Ed and Peachee loved each other just like what you read about in books. I didn't fully appreciate it until very recently. I took it for granted. It's what I grew up with. And I stupidly assumed (somehow) that it's what most people had.  What Peachee and Ed had/have is incredibly rare. Don't settle for anything less. Just don't.

Friday, January 30, 2015

What Would They Think?

I try to put myself in my ancestors' shoes (wooden shoes for some of them) and imagine what they were thinking as they first saw the United States.  I'm sure the kids were filled with excitement, but if I were a mom who had left everything I knew and put all my eggs in this immigration basket, I think I would have wanted to throw up over the side of the ship.

My ancestors came to the States through a number of ports, but Castle Garden in NYC was the main one.  My Kerkhoffs arrived on 28 October 1864 after leaving Haselünne, Germany on 15 September 1864.  In a matter of 6 weeks, they bade farewell to a very small town that had been the only home any of them had ever known and then had to face navigating an overwhelming New York City.  

Hasestraße 4
The Home of My Kerkhoff Family

The Adler
The Kerkhoff Family's Ship

Lately, I've been reminded of their arrival and that it has, in part, made me who I am (this goes for all of my ancestors).  It has played a significant role in the opportunities I enjoy and the path my life has taken.  And since May 2014, that path has taken me to NYC.  I'm based there now and commute 2 or 3 times per month.  More often than not, I have to fly into LGA and cab it over to JFK.  And if I sit on the left side of the aircraft, the view reminds me of my Kerkhoff family's journey here.  I see the area that they saw (now Castle Clinton).  And I have to wonder......what would they think of their granddaughter who now flies into NYC at least a couple of times per month?  FLY???!!!!  Travel from Cincinnati to NYC in a couple of hours????!!!!

I love this view even though I know the Statue of Liberty wasn't there when my ancestors arrived.

See the "bottom" of Manhattan? That's where The Adler sailed into.  Now, it's Castle Clinton.

What would they have thought of their great great great granddaughter standing in the same place they stood?

Great Great Great Granddaughter of Casper and Lisette Kerkhoff

Every single time I fly into NYC, I think about my ancestors.  I know that if they hadn't made the decisions they did, I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing.  I owe everything to them.  

Friday, September 5, 2014

Going "Home" Again

There are only a few places that emotionally feel like a "home away from home" for me, and I sense it immediately.  London and Rome are two places that I knew I belonged.  There's no logic to it, but I knew I had an attachment to those places as soon I got there.  I yearn to be there.

Then there are places that I thought I would emotionally respond to like I did to London and Rome and was surprised when it didn't happen.  Paris quickly comes to mind.  I love the history, culture, architecture, etc., but I don't have that "you're home" feeling.  Wiesbaden is another.  If any single town/city should've awakened something in me, you'd think it would be a German town.  But it didn't.  I liked it.  I liked being there.  But I didn't feel "at home."

And then I visited Haselünne three years ago, and I felt that same "at home" feeling as I did with London and Rome.  My heart yearns for it.  I feel a connection to it that I don't feel with any other town that my ancestors came from.  Why?  I have no idea.  But I've learned to not question and just accept it.

Next week, I go back "home."  But this time, two of my sisters and one brother-in-law go with me to our ancestors' birthplace.  I hope I haven't built it up so much to them that it doesn't live up to their expectations.  But I'm really looking forward to seeing the church and the Hase River again, drinking some more Korn, and just being in the same place that my ancestors were.

St. Vincent's Catholic Church--To the right is the spot where the Latin Boys School once stood, a school my male ancestors probably attended.

The tower of St. Vincent's

The "Historic" Road 

St. Vincent's

The Hase River

Grandpa Joe's pipe resting on the baptismal font where his father was baptized in 1850

Me in front of my "home."  My Kerkhoff family's home was located on this spot--Hasestraße 4

I think of Casper and Lisette Kerkhoff and what they must've been doing 150 years ago tonight.  I'm sure they were preparing for their big adventure, and saying goodbye to family and friends.  And I'm also sure that they knew that they would probably never see these people ever again.  I think of them as they visited the grave of their only daughter for the last time.  Bernadina Antonetta Lisette Kerkhoff died in 1862 when she was just 14 years old.  I can't imagine the pain my great great grandparents felt as they walked to the cemetery for the last time and told their daughter of the journey they were about to take.  A journey they had to take without her.

My sisters and I will be in Haselünne on the 150th anniversary of our Kerkhoff family leaving the town (15 September 1864), and I hope Casper and Lisette will be smiling down upon us.

Let the adventure begin!

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Old Catholic Sacramental Records are Priceless!

I've said it before, and I'll say it again--Catholic Church archivists are some of my favorite people. For the most part, they are incredibly helpful and fully understand how important sacramental records are regarding each Catholic family's history.  Each diocese and archdiocese has its own way of making these records available (or not available, as the case may be), and it's very important that the family researcher find these records.  Here are some links and tips that might be helpful to you.

The Archdiocese of Chicago and the Diocese of Toledo have their "old" sacramental records online at FamilySearch.

Archdiocese of Chicago Sacramental Records

Diocese of Toledo Sacramental Records

I could weep looking through these beautiful old records.  This is a priceless resource for people searching for their family members, and they're beautiful to read and see.  I could also cry because none of my ancestors lived in Chicago or Toledo, so these records don't help me at all (at least not that I've found yet).

Many more Catholic records are found on FamilySearch (and also on microfilm at their library in Salt Lake City--microfilm can be ordered to be shipped to your local LDS library).  I've only listed a few, but if you google "Catholic Records FamilySearch" you'll find these listed and much more.

Italian Catholic Sacramental Records

Hungarian Catholic Sacramental Records

Ontario, Canada Catholic Sacramental Records

I found the Catholic baptismal records for 2 of my great great grandparents in this German collection.

German Births and Baptisms

And some release their records to Ancestry.

Irish Catholic Sacramental Records

Quebec Catholic Sacramental Records

And some others have their own website with digital images of their records.  Why, oh why, couldn't any of my Germans have been from the Diocese of Passau?  Because that would have been too easy for me, I think.

Diocese of Passau Sacramental Records

Other dioceses and archdioceses will send you the records you need and/or allow you to come into their archive office (or library) and search through them yourself.

Archdiocese of Los Angeles

Archdiocese of Boston

Archdiocese of Baltimore

Diocese of Sioux City

And still others, like Covington and St. Louis, release their sacramental records to the local library.

Diocese of Covington Sacramental Records at the Kenton Co. Library

I can personally tell you how incredible the Genealogy Dept is at the Kenton Co. library.  I spend many, many hours there.  The archivist for the Covington Diocese is also very helpful.  If you have Catholic ancestors who lived in Covington, you're in luck.

Diocese of Covington Archive Office

Archdiocese of St. Louis

Still other dioceses (e.g. the Diocese of Duluth) and archdioceses require that you contact the individual parish concerning the records you need.

Archdiocese of New York

I also have to include a couple of wonderful German archivists.  The office in Meppen is incredibly helpful and very quick to respond to inquiries.  I've never had a language problem when I've asked a question or requested records (I don't speak German).

Catholic Archive Office in Meppen, Germany

And the archive office for the Münster diocese found my ancestors' sacramental records from Dinklage.

Münster Diocese Archive Office

Depending on where your Catholic ancestors lived, you may hit pay dirt and can't believe your good luck with all the details you learn about your family. Or you may become so frustrated with the lack of help from the archive office that you literally cry.  Been there, done that, and am still doing it.

Good luck finding your family.  Remember that Googling is your friend.  And don't hesitate to send emails asking for help, records, etc.  What's the worst that can happen?  Maybe the person will delete it.  But you might just luck out and get some incredible information.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

"He is moving farther away in people's minds."

Every single one of my ancestors was someone's child.  Obvious, right?  But it's not an objective thought for me.  It's very, very personal.  And that thought is always with me and has been since I started this quest.  It's why I'm obsessed with including all of them in my tree.  Every child mattered.  Each one made an impact.  It doesn't matter how old or how young they were when they died.  They all changed the world, if just a little bit.  All of their loved ones changed because they knew them.

Each member of my tree should be known and remembered.  Every mother of each of those children would ask us to not forget her child.  After my cousin PJ died, my Aunt Janny said to me, "You should never have to bury your child.  It doesn't matter how old he is.  He's still your baby."

It is my responsibility to make sure that I remember and honor each one, and my sister Karen's most recent blog entry reminded me of this.

"I am also concerned that he (Brandon) is moving farther away in people's minds."

A Sorrowfull Mother

I can only pray that we don't allow any of our family members to move further away in our minds.

George Kerkhoff, Grandpa Joe's older brother

Edna Geisen, died at 3 1/2 years of age
Grandma Elsie's older sister

Ester Helen Elizabeth Meyer, died at 5 weeks of age
Grandma Ada's little sister
Buried in the Heger family plot

Infant (Boy) Geisen, Stillborn
Grandma Elsie's baby brother
Buried in the Geisen family plot

PJ Maurer
with Grandma Elsie

Al Meyer
with his sister, my Grandma Ada

Brandon Gromada
My darling nephew

Sarah Catherine Kerkhoff
23 July 1991

Edward Kerkhoff (twin brother of Inez Kerkhoff Perkins)
24 July 1891

Bernadina Antonetta Lisette Kerkhoff (older sister of Anthony Kerkhoff)
02 March 1848 - 11 October 1862

Lorraine Kerkhoff (older sister of Dad's)
05 March 1924 - 10 March 1924

Martha Amanda Purcell (Mom's aunt)
18 May 1889 - 29 July 1889

And many, many more.................................................

Sunday, September 15, 2013

These German American Lutherans Are Tough to Track Down

Quite often, I'm reminded how thrilled I am that most of my ancestors were Catholic.  I love my faith, and I fully appreciate that the practice and love of the Catholic faith has been handed down from generation to generation in my family.  But from a genealogy point of view, if your peeps were Catholic, you've probably hit pay dirt!

That's because all sacramental records are kept at the diocese level along with being kept at the actual parish.  And every diocese has an archive department.  I could tell quite a few tales about how much I love my Catholic church archivists.  These records hold priceless information--not only names of parents but also godparents.  Usually, godparents were family members (unless you're dealing with my Geisens, and then the godfather is someone who owns a brewery), and they can lead you in all different and fabulous directions.

I know how to get my Catholic records (even if I have to wait awhile because that archive office is closed for renovation and relocation).  It must be in my blood since my great uncle, Msgr. Gerhard "Gerry" Geisen was the Chancellor (head of the archive office) for the Covington diocese.

And then I run into my Protestants.  They're tough sometimes.  The Anglicans on my maternal grandpa's side have cooperated with me.  Great Britain has released quite a few of those records.  But the German American Lutherans..........

They haven't cooperated in my search quite so much.  Actually, not at all.  I can't find Pittsburgh/Allegheny Co. Lutheran records online.  I've found a few churches that have had their records microfilmed, so I'm hoping against hope that my German Meyers and Seips worshipped there.  Yeah, what are the odds of that?  I'll put it this way--I'm not going to hold my breath.

I finally did get one lead.  Someone posted on Ancestry about where some of the old records for western Pennsylvania Lutheran records are kept.  Do I see a road trip in my future?  Certainly a phone call.

Lutheran Church Records--Thiel College

My dad's maternal grandfather, Frederick Meyer, was born in Pittsburgh to a Lutheran family.  But my great grandmother, Amelia Heger, "encouraged" him to convert to Catholicism before she'd marry him.  But I need to find out if he was baptized in the Lutheran church (he was conditionally baptized in the Catholic faith when he converted).  I need to find his parents' marriage sacramental record.  I need to find his siblings' baptismal documents.  Because those things will give me new names to track down.  I already know where the Meyer clan lived in Pittsburgh (the Birmingham suburb on the south side), and there are quite a few other Meyer people and some Seips in that neighborhood.

Historic Maps of Pittsburgh

Pittsburgh City Directories

Are they mine?  I NEED TO KNOW!

Side note--Only if you're as obsessed as I am will you understand my perseverance.  If you're not into it, I fully understand you thinking to yourself "WTF?"

OK, thanks for listening to my vent and frustration.  Those of us who are ridiculously obsessed with our peeps know when we're "this close" to finding something.  And that's how I feel about this family.  I just need a few more pieces to my family puzzle.  And I need those Lutheran church records to start assembling it.  I also need to acknowledge that the research frustration is not all the Lutheran's fault.  It's also the responsibility of my Meyer family.  Try looking for "Johan Meyer" or "John Meyer."  Make sure that there's a brick wall close by that you can bang your head against.  He's become, for me, the poster boy for "Needle in a Haystack."

Monday, August 5, 2013

The Unknowns

How can I ever thank my Geisens for having family photos taken?  And how can I ever tell them how much it means to me, 120+ years laters, that these photos have survived?  Many photos that are housed in the Geisen family photo album (a gorgeous green velvet album--sounds tacky, but it's not) have the subject's name written on them.  Or I know who they are (Aunt Mayme had a distinctive look) because I distinctly remember them.

I saw the beautiful face of my Aunt Edna, my Grandma Elsie's older sister.  A sister Grandma never knew.  Edna died at 4 years of age from heat stroke, and Grandma was born the next year.

Edna Geisen (1887)

Edna in between her 2 older sisters--Aunt Dada (Charlotte) on the left and Aunt Mayme on the right (photo probably taken around 1889)

I've been to Edna's grave.  She's buried in the Geisen family plot at Mother of God cemetery in Covington.  She's with her mommy and daddy.  And as I've stood at her grave, looking at her name, I've thought of the unbelievable sorrow that her parents (my great grandparents), siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. went through during her illness, death, and the years after.

How can I express how much I love having a photo of her?  Of knowing what she looked like?  For whatever reason, I "feel" that I have a responsibility to these peeps of mine.  A responsibility to let others know who they were.  To not allow them to be forgotten.  I know it's not logical.  But it has become a sometimes overwhelming feeling.  I feel a responsibility to these family members to make sure that they live on.

That responsibility leads me to the fascination/obsession I have with my Geisen/Pistner family "Unknown" photos.  Many in the photo album have no identification.  Who are these people who my Geisens loved so much that they included them in the family album?  I'm trying to narrow some of it down.  Does a certain photo look like another photo of a "known" person?  We have a photo of Lizzie Geisen (my great grandfather's sister).  Does this other photo look like her?  As soon as I saw it, I thought to myself, "That's Lizzie." But maybe I'm mistaken.  They're obviously related, but is it the same person?  I don't know.  Will I ever know?  Perhaps not.  But I'll do my damndest to figure this out.

The "known" photo of Lizzie (Elizabeth) Geisen

Is this an earlier photo of Lizzie?

And who is this family? Where were they when this photo was taken?  The "matriarch" was wearing black.  Was she in mourning?  The men look like Geisens (like my great grandfather, but I don't think he's either one of them).

The men in this photo look like Geisen men.

Is this woman the same woman in the photo above it (center--in between the 2 guys)?

These are many of my "Unknowns."  But what is "known" about them is that they were loved by my family.  They were all so precious to my Geisens and Pistners that they were included in the album.  And that makes them very precious to me.