The Susie Situation - Episode 1 - Things That Burn

My family left us many things - a predisposition to cancer, diminutive stature, a distinct lack of generational wealth. They neglected to leave photos. We don't know what Grandpa looked like, or two of our three aunts. Those three aunts died way too soon and really needed to meet more men. That's what we've decided from where we sit -- three nieces and grand nieces, learning about Dad's three sisters, while we unravel a 100 year old mystery that we're calling "The Susie Situation." Our story starts with a fire.

This is available as a video (below) or as a written work (below that.) 

I wake up most mornings thinking that I'm getting old. Why is this at the forefront of my thoughts at dawn? Who knows.

Last year I had surgery to remove various body parts before they had a chance to acquire cancer. My father's family gave me the gift of being genetically hospitable to certain types of cancer, and I don't need those parts anymore, so it seemed like the thing to do, but ...

Something happens when they re-arrange all those parts inside of you. It must create free space for trapped air? After years of gas-free living (except for the summer of '69 - and we don't know what was going on there) I found myself waking up at 3am with copious amounts of excess flatulence.

My morning routine the first few weeks after surgery involved waking up, thinking about getting old, noticing which body part hurt most, remembering that I'm not going to be around forever, and then telling myself to stop whining, because I've outlived many women in my family. This series of thoughts might take anywhere from 3 minutes to 3 hours, after which, resolving to go about my day with dignity and grace, I would roll over, sit up, and fart.

Do I recommend this surgery? Well, it might have prolonged the lives of some of those women I've outlived. Even a little bit of standard medical care might have helped. I mean, I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure aspirin is not the best and only painkiller for breast cancer. Uncle Clarence, I'm talking to you.

My father's three sisters all died before I was born. I don't even know what two of them looked like. Sometimes I hear rumors of photos. "My sister might have some, but she isn't speaking to me and won't share" or "My uncle had all the photos, and then his house burned down."

Things that burn. There's actually an old family story about a house and a barn burning down on the same day, back when my father was two years old. He wrote about this in a manuscript he left me. 

He says, “We were living on this homestead near Spencer, Nebraska. And Dad was away from home."

I guess the rest of the family was out getting the cows. Except for his sister Susie. For some reason she wasn't there. On their way home, a thunderstorm came up on the prairie.

"There was one really bright flash and then a hard clap of thunder. Then we saw smoke coming from our new barn. It was on fire, and we couldn't save it. Before we got to the barnyard, there was another really bright flash and another deafening roar, and smoke came pouring out of our house -- our new house!"

Now, when I was a kid, I noticed that if I asked the wrong question during a family story, I would often get an illusive answer.

"Dad, what are the odds of lightning striking two structures on the same land on the same day, catching them both on fire?"

"Well ... I couldn't say."

"Dad, where was Grandpa during this time?"

"Well ... sometimes he was away."

"Dad, where was Susie?"

"Well ... you know, I was only two years old."

As I got older I discovered that this lightning story was the official story, but there was an underlying suspicion. Subtext. Family lore. A suggestion that this fire was set on purpose. Why? Nobody explained. They hemmed and hawed and said, "Well ...."

So I set out to find other sources of information. For years I searched through newspaper listings and other resources in Boyd county, near Spencer. I got negative results. That's what the professional genealogists tell you when you hire them to look for things, and they don't find them. "I searched. I got negative results. That will be four hundred and fifty dollars, please. I prefer a check."

Then one day I broadened my search to Holt county, a few miles south of Spencer, and that's when I discovered a tiny little news article in the Atkinson Graphic, dated July 12, 1912: "Orlin Carver of Phoenix had the misfortune to lose his house and household goods last Friday night by fire. Mr. Carver lives on a Kinkaid homestead and the loss will be an especially heavy one for him."

It didn't mention a barn. And Grandpa's first name was spelled wrong - Orlin instead of Orland - but I've often seen it misspelled in this fashion. My dad was born in 1910, so he would have been 2 in 1912. I had no idea where Phoenix or Kinkaid were, but a quick look at a map showed that Atkinson is 41 miles south of Spencer. The dates are right. The place seems right. There were not many Carvers in the area. This looked like my family. Now what?

I reached out to my cousins, Kate and Melody. "HELP!" They were patient, letting me bury them in research, listening to my dramatic overshares and sighs of confusion. They passed information back and forth between me and their aging parents, adding information of their own, and suggesting new avenues for research. Over the last year we've pieced together large parts of this story while our own stories unfolded in parallel..

If we were writing the script for a movie, we would have to admit that the script is not complete. We're hoping that if we release some updates, a bit at a time, we'll figure it out as we go. Perhaps more of our cousins will provide feedback and help us add depth and clarity. Perhaps the final family narrative will be crowdsourced.

And perhaps I can change my morning routine. Wake up and think, yes, darn it, I'm getting old, but at least I've shared what I know. And also, finally, thank heavens, that farting has subsided.

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Hook 'em and Pull 'em - Video

Related Link: Hay is for Horses

A story about haying in Pleasant Valley in the late 1960's.

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The Next Grandpa Back - Video

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.

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Treasure Chest - Video

Related Link: Treasure Chest - Written Word

This is a YouTube Video version of the Treasure Chest story

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Treasure Chest - Written Word

Related Link: Treasure Chest - Video

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.

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The Next Grandpa Back - Written Word

Related Link: The Next Grandpa Back - Video

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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In Flew Enza

Excerpt from journal of Orland William Carver Jr. Portland, Oregon, 1976.

Two doctors consult on the porch of a small wood frame house in the Smelter Hill district of Joplin, Missouri. Inside, four young people lie on pallets on the floor of the main room. A fifth child watches from the doorway of a back room. He is thin and pale and doesn't look particularly well himself.

The little house is usually cold, having no insulation to speak of, but the children's mother has tacked blankets over the windows and added extra wood to the fireplace. As a result, the main room is absolutely sweltering. Even so, some of the children shiver on their pallets.

It is 10:30 on Wednesday morning, November 27, 1918. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving day. The Joplin Herald calls for increasing cloudiness today, with a chance of rain tomorrow.

During the last few days these doctors have tried every remedy they can think of, from a special white powder to a contraption called a pulmotor, a portable ventilator housed in a large wooden suitcase. It looks like the grandfather of a modern day sleep apnea machine.

None of their remedies have helped, and now they've escaped to the porch for some fresh air while they discuss what to do next. "Let's try the white powder," murmurs the older doctor. The powder is in his doctor's bag. He plans to mix it with water. The younger doctor will use an eye dropper to dribble this mixture into Susie's mouth.

Susie is not really a child anymore. She is 20, but in Annie's mind, Susie is still her baby girl. Annie hovers, waiting to bring whatever the doctors need. As the doctors shake their heads and talk quietly out on the porch, she begins to pace and wring her hands, silent tears running down her face.

The powder doesn't help. At 11 Susie takes her last breath. Six hours later Clarence dies as well. A neighbor lady comes over to try to comfort the children's mother while they wait for Susie and Clarence to be taken to the morgue, but at this particular point in time, Annie Carver is inconsolable.

Annie's husband Orland is unreliable at best, so the family has become accustomed to sporadic stretches of hunger and homelessness, but the last few months have been rough, even for them. In July they packed up the wagon, hitched up the mules, and started the 220 mile journey from Enid, Oklahoma to Joplin, Missouri.

On the way young Ashton came down with typhoid fever. They were only 20 miles away from Joplin, but Ashton was too sick to travel, and the family was almost out of food. They stopped and asked for help. Kind local residents put them up in an empty house and called a doctor. They stayed for at least two weeks while Ashton recuperated.

Baxter Springs News (Baxter Springs, Kansas) · 30 Aug 1918, Fri · Page 2

Baxter Springs News (Baxter Springs, Kansas) 06 Sep 1918

Baxter Springs News (Baxter Springs, Kansas) - 13 Sep 1918

In mid-September they finally made it to Joplin, rented this house, and got settled. Susie got a position as a telephone operator. Clarence and Orland found work as well. But then, Orland announced that he was leaving. “Mother, children, the government has called me to work in the shipyards in Virginia, to help with the war effort.”

The family was shocked but not totally surprised. Orland had a habit of leaving like this, for days or weeks at a time. None of the kids knew where he went or what he did while he was gone, but they assumed he was working elsewhere or looking for work.

Somewhere during all of this hubbub, daughter Sina Belle complained of illness and took to her bed. A visiting nurse examined her and said that she had tuberculosis. The nurse helped Annie make arrangements to send Sina to the nearby Jasper County Tuberculosis hospital in Webb City.

On November 11 news spread quickly that the war was over. An armistice had been signed with Germany. The older kids stayed out late celebrating. Annie thought this was appropriate under the circumstances. Nearly everybody was out celebrating.

A few days later Susie came home with a cough, Clarence woke up with a fever, and Robby and Willie complained of headaches. They all had the Spanish flu, that super-sized worldwide pandemic that killed so many people in 1918.

During the weeks before they got sick, Annie spent countless hours helping sick neighbors. Now the neighbors helped her, bringing soup on Thanksgiving day and watching after the younger kids while she went alone to the burial.

For those of you who are counting, that's six kids having three scary diseases all within the span of about 90 days. In later years, Annie was to wonder if the kids caught the flu on Armistice day, out in the cold with all the other flu-ridden celebrants. It's hard to know. At the rate this strain was spreading, they could have caught it anywhere.

When my father (Willie) wrote this story down, he called it “The Valley of the Shadow”. He remembered things an 8-year-old would remember. Instead of influenza, the school kids called it “hen flew endways”. They also had a little jump rope chant: “I had a little bird, its name was Enza. I opened the window, and in flew Enza.”

Articles on the subject say that the Spanish flu of 1918 was unique, in that it was particularly hard on the young and the strong. In this case, it took the family's only sources of income. Fortunately Annie was able to find work to tide the family over until Orland returned.

Susan Viola Carver and Clarence Dean Carver are both buried in Fairview cemetery, presumably in pauper's graves.

Aunt Susie, Uncle Clarence, rest in peace.

Joplin News Herald 28 Nov 1918 Page 1

Joplin Globe 28 Nov 1918 Page 4

Notes: 
1) Despite the information in these articles and on their death certificates, Susie and Clarence would have been 20 and 18, respectively. 

2) I found a newspaper article dated Nov 2, 1918, that says both Orland and Clarence were called to Hopewell, Virginia to the munitions plant there. However, Clarence must not have gone.

Joplin News Herald 2 Nov 1918 Page 5

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Hay is for Horses

Related Link: Hook 'em and Pull em - video

¬July, 1967

Nancy, David, Daddy, Gramps July 1967

"See there, girl. Jets!" Gramps points upward. Three fighter jets fly over the back field, really close together, like geese heading south for winter. But it's not winter. It's the middle of July. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. There are no clouds.

"That there is Air National Guard, hundred forty-second fighter group." He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and blows his nose. "Oscar would like a jet like that."

He is talking about my Uncle Ozzie, his older boy, who died under mysterious circumstances a long time ago, before I was born. I don't know what mysterious circumstances are, but I heard my cousin say it, and now I like to say it again, because it has big words that sound important.

Gramps had two boys, and both of them were pilots. Uncle Ozzie joined the Air force, and Uncle Jimmy is in the Navy. Several of Gramps' girls don’t even know how to drive a car, but both his boys can fly planes.

Uncle Jimmy comes to visit when he is on leave, and I don't like that, because he tickles me. Sometimes Uncle Ozzie used to visit by buzzing the house. That’s what my aunt told me. Buzzing means flying your plane really low to the ground and near to the house so that all of your family looks up and says, “Oh, my goodness.” Everybody misses Uncle Ozzie, but I don’t know if I miss him, because I don’t know if he would tickle me.

Uncle Ozzie in his plane.

We are harvesting bales of hay. Last winter Gramps announced that this year we would plant oats out in the back field. We all live with Gramps at his house. After my step Grandma died, Gramps asked us to move in and cook for him and do his laundry and pay the taxes, because taxes cost a lot of money. He has a barn and a tractor and lots of things you can hook up to the back of the tractor, like a plow and a disc, and also this thing that looks like a giant rake called a cultivator.

Last spring, way before first grade let out for the summer, he got out a special piece of equipment for the tractor. It was called a seeder, and this made sense because you put oat seeds in a trough on the back. Then as the tractor drove along, these little arm things went round and round and pushed the seeds out the bottom, where they fell to the ground. I know because I got to ride on the standing board that was mounted across the back of the seeder. My job was to make sure the seeds didn't get clogged up and that the arms kept pushing the seeds out, just so. Mommy wasn't sure I should ride back there, but Gramps said, "Nonsense. The girl is safe. I'll drive slow."

Now the hay is all grown up, and the baler came this week to cut and bale it all, and that was really good. I watched from the yard. There is one man who drives around from house to house, and on the first day he will cut and rake your hay, and then after that, probably the next day I think, he will come back to bale it. He comes with his baler machine, and it sucks up the hay, and it squishes it into a rectangle, and it automatically ties it up with string that’s hidden inside the baler somewhere. Then it spits the hay bale out the other end.

You have to hope it does not rain after the man cuts it and before he bales it. I heard Daddy say so. He said, “I sure hope it does not rain and ruin that hay.”

And then Mommy said, “Oh, Bill, don’t worry. The forecast is for sun.” And she was right.

Today Daddy helped Gramps pull the sled out and hook it up to the tractor. The sled is a special kind of trailer that doesn’t have any wheels. It is flat and made of boards. We grab hold of the bales of hay with this special hook attached to a wooden handle and pull them over to the sled and stack them on it. Gramps, Daddy, and I are doing the grabbing.

Daddy and Gramps lifting the hay bales.

After we get all the nearby bales, Gramps drives the tractor to the next section of the field, and we grab some more. I am too small to stack the bales onto the sled, but I can grab and drag. When the sled is full, with bales stacked on top of bales, we drive to the barn and unload.

I am getting very hot, and it feels like we have been working forever. We are going to go back to get more bales, but Mommy says first go get a drink out of the hose and get your handkerchief wet to keep you cool. I go to find the hose. The water is cold and good and from our well, which tastes lots better than the water in the fountain at school.

I am wearing my farmer girl clothes. Some of our people used to be farmers. I know that because we studied about occupations in school. So I asked Daddy about our people and their occupations, because the teacher said to.

Daddy said, “Occupations? That’s a big word for a first grader.”

And I said, “That’s why I’m in school, to learn big words!” And he couldn’t argue with that.

I asked Daddy if any of my grandparents or great grandparents were firemen or anything exciting. He looked at Mommy and they both shook their heads. Mommy and Daddy are teachers, and Gramps is a carpenter. We are all kind of boring, except for Uncle Ozzie and Uncle Jim.

Daddy said, “My grandfather was a blacksmith. The rest of the family were farmers.” Then he looked at Mommy. “Your great-grandfather was a police officer, wasn’t he, dear?”

Mommy nodded. Then I heard her say, really soft like she was talking to herself, “A police officer, and a drinker.”

I looked in the library at school for books about farmers or blacksmiths or drunk policemen, and I found a book called, “Farmer Boy.” In chapter one they slaughter a pig. That means kill it and cut it up. We won’t do that, but I could still pretend to be a farmer girl today. I’m not sure exactly what a farmer girl would wear. I asked Mommy, but she said just play it by ear. That means, imagine what to wear and then find something like that in your dresser.

On the bottom I have blue jeans. It is my first pair of blue jeans, and I wear them almost every day. On the top I have a short sleeved shirt. This morning on my head I had a straw hat, but I took that off because my head got hot, plus the straw poked me. And also I have this handkerchief. It was  around my neck, but it keeps falling off. I get it wet with the hose and then wring it out so it isn’t all drippy.

Gramps driving tractor. Nancy riding sled full of hay bales.

We are going back out to the field. I am riding on the sled. I am singing to myself a new song that my friend Cheryl taught me. She lives across the street. I’m trying to remember all the words, but I can only remember part of the chorus. It goes kind of like, “La-la lah lah lah, now I’m a believer.”

The singers of this song are four boys on TV who are called Monkees, and they are very funny. I tried to watch them last week, but Daddy said, “Oh dear, is that Rock and Roll?” And I shrugged my shoulders because I didn’t know, and he said, “Rock and Roll is filthy. The origins of the phrase have to do with sexual ---“

And Mommy stopped him and said, “Oh, Bill, she doesn’t even know what that is!” And then I thought maybe I could still watch TV, but then she said to me, “Nancy, change channels. That’s junkie music.” So I had to switch to the Gomer Pyle show, because that’s all that was on, even though Daddy doesn’t really like that show either. Mr. Pyle says “Golly” a lot, and that is a substitute swear word. But Mommy lets me watch it, because Mr. Pyle also has a pretty singing voice.

Mommy and Daddy know a lot about the origins of words because of being teachers. I think if I’m going to learn the Monkees song, I’ll have to do it by listening to my clock radio at night before I go to sleep. I will turn it down very soft and keep it up close to my ear.

The tractor stops, and I climb off to drag in more bales. We fill up the sled and then Daddy says, “Look, this is the last bale!” I am excited, because I have been working and working and I am tired. I think I worked just as hard as Farmer Boy when his family cut up the pig.

We drive back to the barn and unload the hay. Gramps picks up the last bale and puts it on the stack in the barn. Then he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his billfold, and takes out a dollar bill. “Come here, girl, and get your pay.”

I am flabbergasted. I don’t know the origins of that word, but I heard it on TV, and I really like it. Flabbergasted. The most money I ever got before was a quarter for washing the car. I look at Mommy, and she nods her head, and I take the dollar and say, “Thank you.”

I push the hair out of my face. I’m dirty and thirsty and so tired that my legs and arms might stop working, and also I feel really good, way down inside my bones. I am seven, going on eight, and I just earned a dollar.

David and Mommy.

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Annis and Orland, Venus and Mars

One of my favorite family jokes, which always falls flat, is "Grandpa was from Mars, Grandma was from Venus." My children smile uncertainly. The grandkids look confused.

"Don't you remember the book that was all the craze a few years ago? Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus?"

Blank stares. Finally somebody will say, "Oh. Ha-ha."

Mars and Venus are both ghost towns now. Annis Hubbard's mother Jane took a homestead in Venus in 1886. Orland Carver's family moved to nearby Mars a few years before that, in 1877. Venus is marked on the map below. Mars is just a little bit southeast, in Royal. (If Royal doesn't show up, make the map a little larger by clicking on the "+" sign.)

Grandpa

Orland William Carver Sr. was born in Wisconsin on Nov 20, 1869. We've heard he was born in Janesville, but La Valle, Sauk County, Wisconsin seems more likely based on the family's location in 1870. His parents were Cyrus Hoyt Carver and Mary Jennette Allen.

Grandpa was the youngest of eight children: Seven boys and one girl. My father thought the girl's name might be Nettie; however, an unknown person on Familysearch.org has it listed as Roxy. This girl died at age 11. All of the boys lived to adulthood. They were: Dorr, Orin, Loren, Oliver, Donley, Barton and Orland.

Notes on spelling: Mary's middle name may have been spelled Jeanette, Jenet, Janet, or Jennette. Dorr's name has been spelled Dorr, Dor, and Door and in one record, David. Donley has also been spelled Donaley.

The family moved from Wisconsin to Nebraska with a group of other settlers. Among them was a man named Samuel Haskin, who appears to have been a close family friend. The Haskins and Carvers took homesteads near each other.

As they reached adulthood, some of the Carver boys also took homesteads in the Mars area, Grandpa included. Homesteading in Nebraska was not an easy life for any of these families, and over the years many moved away.

Grandpa and ? and Alta, maybe

My dad's early notes say that Grandpa's first marriage was to Grandma, but later he updated those notes to indicate a previous marriage to an unknown lady, and that they had one daughter named Alta. I haven't found any information about this marriage or child.

Grandpa and Grandma

I haven't seen any confirmed photos of Grandpa. Dad describes him as stocky, white, medium height, brown hair, blue eyes. Good luck getting a sketch artist to draw that for you! But since I don't have a likeness of his face, I'm going to show you the next best thing, a photo of his handwriting.

This is from Florence Sholes' marriage license. I think it says something like, ”I give my consent Miss Florence and Mr Carey to be married. Orland W. Carver.”  Since the sides are cut off and his handwriting is not quite as pretty as Dad's, it is hard to decipher. Below that is Grandma's handwriting.

We don't have any family stories about how Grandpa and Grandma met, but here is my theory. One of the Haskin girls, Mercedes, married Grandma’s brother, Edmund Hubbard. I imagine that at some point Annis came by to visit her brother, and there was Orland, neighbor man, with his keen good looks and stunning penmanship.

Maybe they met at one of those dances the Carvers liked to host. He winked. She blushed. They danced. And then they got married, proving once and for all that poor Grandma's man-picker was in serious need of repair.

I want to say good things about Grandpa, I really do. Here are some things.

• He used to rock the kids to sleep and sing them hymns.
• He fathered children who grew up to be good people.
• My father loved him.
• Without him, I would not exist.

OK. That's all I've got. I'm just not sure what was going on with him, but it seems like life started out well enough but went downhill over the years. Whatever was wrong, Grandpa, I'm sorry for you and wish your life had been better. More than that, I'm sorry for your family.

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Florence Sholes and Clarence Carey

Updated 6/21/18 to include Census and Draft Registration Information

As mentioned previously, Annis Hubbard and Charles Sholes had one daughter, Florence Octavia Sholes, born on December 31, 1890. I don't know how much time she spent with her biological father. Chances are she didn't know him, but that is conjecture.

• Her parents were married in 1889, and Annis filed for divorce in 1895. 
• The divorce papers say that Charles had been gone for more than five years, I think. The handwriting gets really hard to decipher. 
• Florence was 6 at the time the divorce was filed.

April 1906 -- O'Neill, Nebraska
At age 16 Florence married a 27-year-old from Iowa named Clarence Dean Carey. Don't lose track of Uncle Clarence. He just keeps showing up in this family. We name a Carver boy after him. We marry him, twice. And we have a lot of children with him.

May 1910 – Washington, Knox, Nebraska 
The census shows the family living in Washington, Knox, Nebraska.

1910; Census Place: Washington, Knox, Nebraska; Roll: T624_849; Page: 4A; Enumeration District: 0127; Image: 918; FHL Number: 1374862.

Name:	Clarence D Carey
Age in 1910:	31
Birth Year:	1879
Birthplace:	Iowa
Home in 1910:	Washington, Knox, Nebraska
Race:	White
Gender:	Male
Relation to Head of House:	Head
Marital Status:	Married
Spouse's Name:	Florence Carey
Father's Birthplace:	Iowa
Mother's Birthplace:	Germany
Household Members:	Name Age Clarence D Carey 31 Florence Carey 19 Laverne Carey 3 Esther Carey 1

Jan 1920 – Mullen, Boyd, Nebraska
By 1920 the family has moved to Mullen, Boyd, Nebraska. This is about 16 miles east of Spencer, where Orland and Annis are living in 1910.

1920; Census Place: Mullen, Boyd, Nebraska; Roll: T625_980; Page: 2B; Enumeration District: 25; Image: 524.

Name / Age / Birth Year:	Clarence D Carey / 40 / abt 1880
Birthplace:	Iowa
Home in 1920:	Mullen, Boyd, Nebraska
Race / Gender:	White / Male
Marital Status / Spouse	Married / Florence O Carey
Household Members:	Name Age Clarence D Carey 40 Florence O Carey 30 William L Carey 12 Esther I Carey 11 Marvin E Carey 9 Richard H Carey 7 Harold E Carey 5 Louie G Carey 3 8/12 Mable M Carey 1 4/12  Ida G Carey 0 4/12

Sept 1918 – Bristow, Boyd, Nebraska
Per Clarence’s WWI draft registration, the family is in Bristow, Boyd, Nebraska, where Clarence is farming.

May 1921 -- Florence dies in Bristow
I feel like Aunt Florence was probably exhausted all of the time. She had nine kids in 14 years. Shortly after the birth of child number nine, on May 22, 1921, she died of peritonitis.

After her death, Clarence and the children went to stay with Annis and her second husband, Orland Carver, in Norfolk, Nebraska. They put up a tent in the back yard and camped out while Clarence tried to figure out what to do.

It must have been very hard for a low-income farmer/laborer with that many children to figure out how to care for them and make a living at the same time. Annis helped, but she was not in good health. Some of the children ended up in foster care or were adopted out.

From Dad's Journal

Here is an excerpt from my father's journal about this family.

"Florence had died at the age of thirty-three or thirty-four, at the birth of her ninth child. I could scarcely believe it -- nine children in fourteen years.

"Eleven days later, a 1914 Overland full of Careys came to a halt in our driveway. The kids probably didn't pile out according to age; and I'm not too sure whether fourteen-year-old William LaVern was even along. I think he probably came later by bus or train.

"Be that as it may, twelve-year-old Esther was there. A pretty child she was, and almost petite. She had probably been holding the baby during the ride, although ten-year-old Marvin or eight-year-old Richard could have -- or perhaps even seven-year-old Harold. However, it would hardly have been wise to delegate this chore to five-year-old Louis Gustave (Gussy), four-year-old Mabel, or two-year-old Ida Grace, known to us as Gracie.

"Esther and Dick could have passed for twins, had he been big enough. The rest of the family had lighter colored hair -- more on the brownish order -- and it wasn't wavy like Esther's and Dick's. Neither was Vern's. As for that tiny bundle they called "Clareton" (Clareton Lee) I just couldn't tell whom he looked like. I remember well, however, that Clarence, his father, took Clareton from Esther's arms, carried him to my mother, who stood waiting in the doorway of our three-room house, and placed him in her arms.

"'Here Grandma', he said smiling, 'take him. He's yours.'

Dad goes on to explain that between the Carvers and Careys, there were 16 people in a three-room house. Dad and his brother Ashton were already sleeping out back in a tent due to lack of room. The solution? Grandpa and Clarence emptied out the tent and created double bunk beds (full sized beds that several children could cram into at once.)

"Poor Mom! Can you imagine a sick person managing a home with so many children in it? I don't know how she managed to cook for such a gang, even with the help of Esther and Sina. Drainboards? Sinks? Faucets? Not in our house. We simply washed in one dishpan, rinsed in another, and somehow stacked the dishes on the table to drain.

"The family made do like this most of the summer, until Clarence Carey found a house for rent. Eventually the government stepped in and put several of his children in fostor homes, much to his distress. The baby, however, stayed with Grandma.

"When Grandma was hospitalized, Sina quit school to watch Clareton. She did her best to care for him, but after Grandma died and Grandpa left home, it was more than she could do."

I'm not sure of the timing of all of this. Grandma died in 1925 but I don't know when she was hospitalized. Dad's sister Sina Belle Carver would have been about 14 when Florence died and 17 when Annis died. Eventually Sina married Clarence, but that's a story for another time.

The Carey Children 

William Lavern (Vern) Carey 1907
I see Vern in the Nebraska area and unmarried in the 1940 census, nothing after that and haven't located any family members.

Esther Irene Carey 1909-1999
Esther helped to raise Clarence's second set of children, if I understand correctly.

Marvin Eldon Carey 1910-2002
Marvin moved to Portland, Oregon. My dad used to go visit him occasionally. I think. Or maybe that was Gus.

Richard H Carey 1913-1943
Richard died fighting in World War II. He is buried in Carthage, Tunisia. He was a private in the 26th Infantry 1st Division.

Harold E Carey (Beed) 1915

Louis Gustav (Gus) Carey 1916-2007
Gus also lived in or visited Portland at some point, at least this is what my vague childhood memory tells me.

Mable Mae Carey (Beed) 1919

Ida Grace Carey (Rowlette) 1920
Ida Grace or possibly Grace L. Uncertain. Her name may have changed when adopted.

Clareton Lee "Buddy" Carey (Rowlette) 1921
As an adult it appears his name is spelled Clair.

After Florence died, Harold and Mable were adopted by the Beed family. Grace and Buddy were adopted by the Rowlette family. I don't know too much more about them at this point but hope to hear more from Carey cousins in the future.

Notes:
The above excerpt from my father's journal is also published in the book "Journal of a Not-So-Perfect Daughter", Chapter 7 "Twisted Trees". Author Nancy Carver Abbott. Publisher Pacific Press Publishing Association. Originally published 1998. Kindle ebook published 2013.

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Annis Hubbard, Before Orland

Excerpt from journal of Orland William Carver Jr. Portland, Oregon, 1976.

My grandmother, Annis Loiza Hubbard, was born in Vermont in 1869. Her parents were Edmund Wilmot Hubbard Sr. and Cynthia Jane Parks (who went by Jane.) Grandma had two brothers, Edmund Wilmot Hubbard Jr. and Arthur Parks Hubbard. 

Note: My father always spelled her middle name Loiza, with a z. On her birth record it is spelled Loisa, with an s. 

Jane moved the family to Nebraska in 1886, when Annis was 17. By this time Edmund Sr. had passed away, and some of Jane's sisters had already made the move to a place called Venus, Nebraska. If you look on a map, this is just a few miles north of Orchard, near Walnut Grove.

Here is a photo of Grandma. Dad thought she was about four in this picture. I love the Little House in the Big Woods curls, and that serious face. She looks so young and so old, all at once.

Annis Loiza Hubbard, about 1873

This is the only other photo I've ever seen, with her brothers. From what I can gather, Annis was also called Annie. Edmund went by Ed. And Arthur? My dad's generation called him "Uncle P".'

Edmund, Annis, Arthur Hubbard. Before 1925. Probably Nebraska.

We aren't sure when this picture was taken. Grandma died in 1925, so obviously before that. According to those who remember him, Uncle P's idea of dressing up was a clean white shirt and a fresh pair of bib overalls, so this must have been an important event, since he is in a suit.

• Their mother died in 1897, and this looks later than that, so I don't think it's her funeral.
• Is the car a Model T? I'm not a car expert. Model T production started in 1908. This car looks well used, though, not new.
• Grandma’s outfit looks like internet photos of women's wear in the 1910s. But that spans a number of years.
• Best guesses: 1914 for Great Grandpa Cyrus Carver's funeral or 1916 when Annis and family returned to Nebraska for a visit.

Annis Hubbard and Charles Sholes

Grandma married Charles Sholes in Sherman Township, Antelope County, Nebraska on October 9, 1889. She was 20. He was 26.

Somewhere along the way Charles left, and in 1895 Annis filed for divorce on grounds of desertion, and also because he was a man of vicious and vulgar habits. At least that's what the divorce petition says. It may just be something lawyers always put in their paperwork, though. When you hear the memories of Charles' descendants from his 2nd marriage, he is described as loving, gentle, and soft spoken. It’s hard to look back and tell exactly what happened 115 years ago. My father said that the only thing he ever heard Grandma say about Charles was, "We went our separate ways."

One thing that's not hard to tell, he was handsome. Here is a photo, courtesy of his great-granddaughter Sandy Dempsey. The exact date of the photo isn't known, but it's safe to say he looked something like this when he met Grandma.

Charles Eugene Sholes. Est age 21. About 1883. Independence, Iowa.
Courtesy of Sandy Dempsey

Charles was born in Buchanan County, Iowa on May 24, 1862. His parents were Elijah W. Sholes and Sarah Root. This family was still in Iowa in 1880, but by 1885 they are in Verdigris Precinct, Knox County, Nebraska. 

Annis and Charles had one daughter together, Florence Octavia Sholes. Florence was born December 31, 890 in Venus, Knox, Nebraska.
31 DEC 1890 • Venus, Knox, 

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