“The baby is sick. He has been sick a long time. He cries a lot and Pa sometimes spanks him to make him be good. When he sits in his high-chair he can’t hold up his head . . . Ma says she doesn’t have time to take care of him and anyway she is too busy to eat herself so she has no milk for the baby.”
So wrote Gertrude Willson in her diary in upper New York State during the mid-1880s. That starving baby grew up to be a school principal in New York City, although he died at age 56 because of his early malnutrition. Gertrude went to normal school and became a teacher. Her cousin became a school principal, then turned Methodist and became a circuit-riding preacher in Nebraska, and later was an Episcopal priest.
However poor her family was, Gertrude Willson’s family had pluck and determination and overcame odds.
A couple of months ago I asked readers to send me stories about their family history. I published one of them, by David Brook, and plan to publish the story of Gertrude Willson, a cousin of John Willson, in a future post.
The people who sent me stories are well-educated professionals. If there is one thing that has struck me about their family stories, it is how “middle class” they are, even going way back. That’s true of my family, too. By middle-class I mean that they worked hard, out of duty as much as necessity; they expected their children to do so, too; and they valued education. Continue reading “Middle-class at Heart (Part I)”
David Brook is retired from the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources where he was director of the Division of Historical Resources. He has also written two books on the history of historic preservation in North Carolina.
Before modern vaccines and antibiotics, generations of Americans were routinely plagued by contagions including yellow fever, typhus, measles, and diphtheria. Cholera, however, topped them all in sheer terror. Caused by a bacterium not identified until 1884, cholera is a horrible intestinal disease, spread through contaminated food and water. With a short incubation period, cholera kills through severe dehydration. Untreated victims can die within hours of onset. In the 19th century, crowded immigrant communities were especially hard hit.
The coronavirus pandemic brings to mind the impact of cholera on the life of my great-great grandfather, Ludwig “Louis” Wellendorf (1831-1899). Louis was from Bresewitz, a small town on the Baltic Sea near Rostock, in the Grand Duchy of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Germany. According to family lore, he had participated in the failed Revolution of 1848, and fled to Denmark to hide for a time. Continue reading “Cholera, Stormy Seas, and Survival: A Family Story”
It’s not a comfortable time for our country right now. For some reason, perhaps due to our enforced confinement, my husband and I started remembering family stories—our own family histories, good, bad, indifferent. Stories in which personalities peek through the misty past.
I’d love for you to share such stories, those that you like to tell but may not have an audience for, especially if you have exhausted the patience of children and grandchildren. To me these stories bring the past alive. Here are two of mine:
First story:
My great-grandfather’s parents came from Ireland in 1837 and farmed in Ohio. (I always praise the potato because without it they [and thus I] would probably not have been born, and they were lucky to miss the horrible famine of 1847). Their son John was born in 1847 in Ohio. Like many countrymen, the family moved west around 1860. They reached St. Louis, where they were to wait for a boat to take them up the Mississippi to Wisconsin. The family briefly dispersed, with plans to meet at the port. But John, then aged 14, never arrived. Continue reading “You and I Are What History Is About”
