Apr 22, 2020

The Next Grandpa Back - Video

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Related Link: https://carverhistorical.blogspot.com/2020/04/the-next-grandpa-back.html
A video about getting to know Cyrus Hoyt Carver using last century's best social media platform.


Treasure Chest - Written Word

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When I was a preschooler, my mother kept a box in her closet. It looked like a miniature pirate's chest. She let me reach in there and pull things out — old photos, Grandma's scrapbook, a very old game of pick up sticks. Mom called this her treasure chest. I asked her why.

"Because, sweetheart, my mother died when I was 14. These were her things, and they helped me feel close to her when I was sad.” 

I thought that chest was almost magical, and I wished I could meet Grandma Grace. It didn't seem fair that some of my friends had grandmothers nearby to rock them and kiss them and make them yummy cookies.

As I got older I forgot all about the treasure chest. We adopted a baby boy, and I was busy helping him learn to play baseball and important things like that. Then in 1971 we lost my little brother to an accident. I was 12, just two years younger than Mom was when Grandma Grace died. I remember being really lonely. I tried to stay busy with school, but then came Christmas vacation - long days in that quiet house. 

One day I found that old box on my bed with a note in Mom's handwriting: "Nancy's Treasure Chest." I reached in and pulled out Grandma's scrapbook. The front cover was missing. The whole thing was faded and hard to read. A blurry photo fell out of the back of the book. It's hard to make out, but this is my Grandma, Grace Sophia McGuffin, with her twin brother Edgar and their mother, there in the snow with the horses. 

Mary, Edgar, and Grace McGuffin around 1910-15, Line, SD
Back behind them you can see the faint outline of a sod house. I looked through the box for more photos. Here's a better photo of that sod house. Doesn't Uncle Edgar look dapper? 

Mary and Edgar McGuffin, early 1900s.
And here’s a better photo of the twins. They were born in Michigan in 1891. Grace attended Battle Creek college and taught school in South Dakota until she married my grandfather, Elmer Olson, in 1915. They started a family and moved to Portland, Oregon, where Gramps worked as a carpenter. They attended the Sunnyside Seventh-day Adventist Church. Two of their children died in infancy -- one a few days after birth, and the other from pneumonia at 14 months. My aunt told me that Grace first found out she had breast cancer in 1931. After surgery, it seemed to be gone, but then in 1934 it came back, taking her life in January of 1935. She left behind six children ages three through sixteen.


I started reading the scrapbook. The first page is filled with poetry. Here's the first stanza of a poem by Robert Whitaker. He was a Baptist minister in the Pacific Northwest. I remember being enchanted with her handwriting.


After that there were several pages of grammar rules. I wonder if she wrote these as a student, or if she used them when she was teaching school. Based on all the things my mother and aunt told me, Grace didn't stop teaching when her employment ended. She just changed from a classroom of pupils to a house full of children, so I wouldn't be surprised if Mom got an ear full of these grammar lessons.


The book has page after page of newspaper clippings. Here's a handy tip. "Did you know that gum may be removed from cloth if the spot is saturated with gasoline?" 


After the tips were recipes. I took the book to the kitchen. "Hey Mom, can we make this apple pie recipe from Grandma's book?" We ended up making the pie and some peanut butter cookies. And it felt like Grandma was in the kitchen with us as we sliced and stirred. I hadn’t had that much fun in weeks!

We did not try to make this recipe. This is for fake meat. It calls for a pound of peanuts and five pounds of flour. 

Then I found a list of books. "Hey Dad, will you take me to the library to check out these books that Grandma recommends?" 

We got Little Women and Little Men, and as I was reading them, it felt like Grandma was sitting next to me, like I could lean right up against her while I read. Way up at the top of this list it says "1918." That's when the Spanish Flu was killing people all over the world. It's my family's pandemic reading list for the 20th century.


Here are some riddles. Why is it illegal for a man to possess a short walking stick? Because it can never be long to him. Har Har. I tried that one on Gramps, and I thought I could hear Grandma Grace whisper in my ear, "See there? He almost smiled!"  


Thanks to my mother, I’ve been using this scrapbook to get acquainted and re-acquainted with Grandma ever since. And I've learned a lot too, as I looked up the authors of her poems, read the books on her list, rolled my eyes at her riddles, played some of the sheet music, and scanned through her household tips.

You people who run out to the store and pay money for Sudoko, here's how Grandma did it.


And finally, I came across a page of my mother's handwriting. How old do you suppose she was here?

If you inherit a scrapbook, I have a few suggestions. If it's fragile, make a good copy. Then go through it slowly, so you don't hit information overload. Ask some questions. Do you see trends? What subjects did the creator find the most fascinating? When was the book made? What was going on in history then?

What is Grace Sophia McGuffin's legacy? From her book, I would say she was fond of pickles, and potatoes, and really bad puns. She liked to collect ideas, write things down, read great books, and use good grammar. Her children and extended family tell me that she was kind and had a gentle sense of humor. She sewed all their clothes. They liked the potatoes she made for dinner after church. They liked her to butter their toast all the way to the edges. They liked it when she set up a little salon in the dining room and cut their hair.   

If I were to choose one thing about her, one thing that really stands out, it's the fact that her teaching career was over in 1915, but her lessons still live on. Years after her death, she had a tremendous impact on my life, thanks in part to the contents of that Treasure Chest.


Apr 4, 2020

The Next Grandpa Back - Written Word

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In times of uncertainty I like to look back in history to identify things that remain constant from generation to generation. It helps me feel grounded. And it occurred to me the other day that social media is one of those constants.

Think about it. Through the ages people have tried to connect -- with writing on cave walls, writing on bathroom walls, the town crier, the town gossip, newspaper ads, bulletin boards, Facebook, and Twitter.

My favorite social media platform of last century is the community news section of small town newspapers. Here's an example from the Creighton News, July 4, 1912. It's a small Nebraska paper.

  • Adolph Raff was in town Sunday and dropped in to say hello to the news. 
  • Cool underwear for hot weather at the Simon Clothing Company.
  • Mrs. Alice Norton has a small chicken that has four legs and four feet.
  • Instant Postum requires no boiling. 25 and 50 cent packages available.

These little tidbits tumble down the columns, paragraph after paragraph, no headings, filling most of page 3. They remind me of my Facebook news feed, without the photos or memes. And yet, each of these paragraphs provides a small snapshot in time that can help us understand the people who lived then.

These pages helped me get acquainted with my great grandfather. Dad told me stories about his father, but we didn’t know much about the next grandpa back. All Dad could remember was that he was really old, and he had a gruff voice. 

I can see him now, Cyrus Carver, standing in the kitchen of his son Bart’s house. He's been visiting, but it's time to go home. His lunch is packed. He gets his coat and looks outside. Oh no! Bart is talking to the newspaper man. That man is a busybody. He spends all his time gathering neighborhood gossip and printing it!

Bart waves. "Pops, come talk with us!" With a sigh, Cyrus steps outside.

"I don't have time for no stories. I have pressing work in the shop." He keeps his head down and tries to walk past them, but Bart takes his arm.

"Pops! People want to hear about your life. You set a good example. Talk to the man. Be neighborly!"

Well, if you put it that way. He sets his things on the porch and talks about the old days on the homestead, when the boys were young and his wife was alive. He talks about Saturday night dances at his place. They had some good times. Somebody would play the fiddle. They would make popcorn, play cards, tell stories.

The nearest doctor was miles away, and many a night some neighbor would knock on the door and ask for his wife. "Grandma Carver, my mother is sick. Please come help!" Sometimes she was able to save a life. Sometimes not. Early on, Cyrus set up a cemetery on a hill at the corner of his property. He built the caskets. How many? He wasn't sure.

The boys are all grown now, with children and grandchildren. None of them have much money, and if he doesn't work, they will have to feed him. He isn't having any of that, so he grows onions to sell. He takes orders for blacksmith and carpentry work. And now he really needs to get back. As he explains to the newspaper man, "I'm a self-sustainer. I will work till the day I die."

Cyrus Hoyt Carver was born in St. Lawrence County, New York in 1810. Around 1840 he married a local girl, Mary Allen, and they moved to Wisconsin, where they raised eight children. 

In 1864, despite his age, he was drafted into the civil war at Prairie du Chin, 3rd Dist Wisconson. After a few weeks he was sent home, due to epilepsy.

In 1877 they moved to Nebraska to take up a homestead. 

In October, 1879 the Neligh Republican reports that he built a two-story stone house, 16x26, built of fine, grey limestone.

According to a 1965 article in the Creighton News, he nearly lost his life in 1880 in a well but was saved by a neighbor. This deserves further study and a separate post.

Here he is in 1906 with some grandchildren and their dog, Shep.

Cyrus Hoyt Carver, (1810-1914) with grandchildren Ethyl, Eldon, Gilbert, Chester, and dog, Shep. About 1906. Age 96. Photo courtesy Carly Smith.

The 1910 Country Correspondence section of the Creighton News says that Cyrus had a stroke, but he bounced back.

Creighton News, Page 5 -January 27, 1910

Here he is in 1911, celebrating his 101st birthday. He used to grow tobacco, and he is spry.
Nebraska Liberal, Page 1 - August 11, 1911

In 1912, age 102, he's walking 14 miles against the strongest winds of the season to visit Bart. Can that really be true? Or is this some of that fake news? At any rate, he is still spry. I like that word. Spry.
Nebraska Liberal, Page 4 - October 11, 1912

And finally, here's his obituary in 1914. He lived to be 103 years, 10 months, and 26 days old, and he died in his workshop.
Creighton News, Page 1 - June 4, 1914
Wife's name Mary Jennette Allen. Boys' names: Dorr, Orin (Nickname Shib), Loren (nickname Nin), Donley, Oliver (nickname Oddie), Barton, Orland (nickname Professor). Daughter who died age 11, name unknown. 

What was Cyrus Carver's legacy? He was a husband, father, blacksmith, homesteader. He hosted dances and built caskets. He was a self-sustainer. He was spry. And if we could travel back in time and ask him what one thing he wanted to be remembered for, I think he would say, "I was a good neighbor."

If it weren't for last century's social media, I would know a lot less about Great Grandpa. I'm glad he took the time to tell the papers a little bit about his life. I want to be a self-sustainer. I'd really like to be spry. And we all want to be good neighbors. Don't we?

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