Category Archive:Family

So the story all these years is that I am Irish – “me da was Irish” – you know, the whole Irish Catholic background thingy. But I’ve never been able to go very far back into “me da’s” family ethnicity and lineage – mostly due to an unfortunate need for a name change upon arrival in America – or so the story goes. “We were running from the� . . . .” you fill in the blanks.

And, now most of the family is gone. Only one aunt lives on Dad’s side. And, worse yet – NONE of the family kept good records as far as I know. That’s the way of life for laborers and their families growing up in the lower west side (aka the Bottoms) of Columbus, Ohio.

So, it was kind of fun to find a link to a reliable census information page while I was looking through our local library’s website. I’ve found links to so called census links before and they were all “you pay us and then maybe we’ll share information” type places.

This one, however, had census pages photographed and names linked to the proper pages! Woot! Here was something I could play with.

And, sure enough, in the Fourteenth Census of the United States: 1920 Population, I found me da’s da. And, indeed discovered that my grandfather (who was gone before I was born) had been born in Ohio, but HIS father had been born in Ireland. My grandmother – known to all of us as Mom-Mom – was born in Ohio and her mother’s mother (my great great-grandmother)�was born in Ireland as was her mother’s father (my great great grandfather).

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School days, school days, dear old golden rule days,
Readin’ and ‘ritin’ and ‘rithmetic, Taught to the tune of a hick’ry stick,
You were my queen in calico, I was your bashful barefoot beau,
And you wrote on my slate, I love you Joe, When we were a couple of kids.

It won’t be long now . . . just a few more days . . . a collective sigh of relief will go up from every mom with school aged children . . . a collective cry will go up from said school aged children. One with glee – one not so gleeful.

Yes, indeedy. School is starting soon – next Tuesday, I do believe. The Boy has to go in on the 21st for his freshman (!!!) orientation – to which, btw, parents are not encouraged to attend. Poor Lessa�- she’s the mama of a high schooler! lol

At the other end of the spectrum, little miss Ladybug will be attending kindergarten this year. That will be all but one of the grandbabies in school. Izzy has another year before he is old enough for Head Start.

All of the little ones being pushed out of the net . . .� poor Nana Moosie. Poor Paw-Paw Moosie. These babies are just growing up way too quickly.

:moose:

We received word last night that a dear pastor friend had passed away. It is because of the love of this man and his wife for me and my family that I can call heaven my future home.

Our first meeting was memorable. Lessa – at that time she must have been all of 5 years old – ran into the house as I was nursing the infant dragonfly to tell me that “that man said he was going to hang me!”

Nothing can get me up and on my feet quicker than knowing that someone was threatening to hurt my baby – down the street I went – dressed in a knit halter top and shorts – to confront the man who would do such a thing. . . .

. . . only to find a gentle man cheerfully rolling up his fishing line onto his spool. It seems that my gorlie and her friends were riding their bikes up and down the sidewalk while he was feeding out the fishing line (getting ready for a fishing trip). He told them “be careful or you’ll get hung up in the line.”

The intricacies of a 5 year old mind – she and her friends heard only that he was going to hang them.

Embarrassment set in – because I had come unglued over a perceived threat – because I was standing in the presence of a man of God in clothing which left little to the imagination – well, you get the picture.

We became friends with that family. Their youngest daughter babysat for us quite often. And on a nearly daily basis Pastor Dick and his wife, Ginny, would come to my house for coffee. He always had this big black Book with him – and no matter what question I had or what problem I had, he found an answer there in that Book.

Before long our family began attending his small church. Before long I opened my heart to the saving knowledge of Jesus. Before much longer our family had packed up and moved to Alaska to work with another small church.

Lots has happened since that time. There have been times when none of us served the Lord as He would have us serve. There have also been wonderful times of blessings and faith-growing experiences.

All because of a man who was going to “hang” my daughter and her friends.

All because Christ loved me enough to die for me.

Rest in peace, Pastor Dick. I’ll see you in the morning.