It was a mere 16 years ago today that the fun all started, and every day the bond grows stronger.

Love you, Mike!

PS – happy 15th birthday Jerry old boy!

Randomly –

Arsenio vs. Clay? Tough one this year. I like them both. Edge to Asenio for being the Aubrey-free team.

Best. Coverband. Ever: Dirty Loops. Bonus points because they’re Swedes. /Hat-tip to Mike for showing them to me.

I recently indexed some very cool 1940 censuses…censi? Both from Georgia – one was Whitemarsh Island, Chatham County, Georgia (near Battery Point from what I could tell). This was the closest to home I’ve done so far. The second was an all-’Negro’ barracks at Ft. Benning. Indexing the 1940 census has been so fun. I’m actually considering trying to become an arbitrator. I’ve indexed nearly 8,000 names to date. I should be ready.

Finally, some parting thoughts on marriage (gay, straight, or otherwise) – instead of the federal and state governments fretting about whether we should acknowledge inherent rights to varying couples, how about they simply stop registering our private relationships? I can’t possibly be the only one who is creeped out by the idea of disclosing to some bureaucrat my choice in life partner…right?

I (and thousands of other genealogy geeks) have been spending free time indexing the recently released 1940 US Census. On the grand scale, it’s satisfying knowing I am literally helping make history, and more importantly, make history available. On a smaller scale, indexing is a nice way to give back to the community that has provided so much to me for my own research.

In this spirit, The Ancestry Insider has created the 1940 First Indexer Award

The displayer of this badge certifies that he or she is a proud indexer of the 1940 Census.

1. Name: Jaime

2. First Indexed: April 6, 2012

3. First Batch: Minneapolis, Hennepin Co., Minnesota

4. Favorite experience: Getting two subsequent batches from Berwyn, Cook Co., IL. Didn’t see anyone I ‘know’ but lots of familiar names.

5. I learned about this award from the blog of: The Ancestry Insider

If you want to help index, visit Family Search

______________________________________________________

Award Rules

To earn this award you must index or arbitrate at least one batch of the 1940 Census. Once you have submitted a batch:

1. Copy this entire post, including the rules.
2. Replace the answers to the questions.
3. If you wish, replace the badge with a different size or background. Pick from the choices at http://ancestryinsider.blogspot.com/2012/04/1940-census-award-badges.html
3. Post on your blog.
4. Display the award with pride alongside other awards and badges on your site.

It recently occurred to me that there are a remarkable number of goalies in the NHL playoffs who have two first names as their name. I can think of five –

I’m probably missing someone.

Lists are fun. Beats counting sheep.

I’m almost afraid to confess this, but after some thought (and creative reasoning) I’ve decided to make my admission in the name of science. Yesterday, I watched the first episode of CMT’s Southern Nights: Savannah.

Now that that is out there, I’m left to wonder if I should watch the next episode. I sort of want to. However, as I said, if I do, it would have to be for science – social science anyway. After the first episode, I was truly left gap-mouthed, stunned. This happened. In my city. W….T….F….? This was real (in that reality-tv sort of way, of course).

I fully understand that this is a produced reality show, and a certain amount of showboating for the cameras will be part of it. Most people act differently when film is rolling. Some try to hide (I would put me in that category, and henceforth dub it the ‘normal’ category). Then there are those, like the people chosen for this show, who play it up for the camera. They are like exaggerations of real people. Which, of course, is the reason I want to keep watching. How much of an exaggeration are they? How much of their obnoxious, immature, narcissistic actions are real? What percentage? I.e. – how much does my fellow man suck? I’m also interested in exploring the perpetuation of negative stereotypes of young, white southerners. Is it the producers or the participants who seem to be hell-bent on said perpetuation?

After his leaving mid-show to play guitar, I am not certain I can count Mike in. So – anyone willing to join me in this experiment? Maybe if we can share notes and observations after the show we can justify watching this train wreck – all in the name of science!

To Science!

It’s been quite a March. Another stellar St. Pat’s has come and gone. Great weather and great company made this year’s parade one of the best ever. I know I say this every year, but this time I mean it.

Last Thursday, we had the great pleasure of seeing Bela Fleck & the Flecktones. They put on a killer show. It was phenomenal to hear as well as see Victor Wooten play. He makes it look so easy.

Other March goodness includes my wonderful Aunt S- sending along some very helpful family history documents. She single-highhandedly helped me confirm info I had, fill in a number of blanks, and as always with genealogy, create a few more mysteries.

I’ve also finally started putting our tablet to good use as an e-book reader. Earlier this month, I read The Wreckers by Francis Lynde. It was a rather enjoyable read, with a fast moving plot. In it’s prime, the book may have come off as a preachy pro-labor/anti-railroad novel. Enough time has passed that it now seems more a historical action story. I tried finding a bio on this author and couldn’t come up with anything. If you’re familiar with him (her?) let me know and whether the other books are worth reading.

I’m now onto the infamous Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. How I’ve gotten to be this old and this cool, and have not read this yet, I’m not sure. It’s now on the tablet. Quite engrossing, more when I’m done.

Congrats to both of my siblings for their big March news, respectively. Now if only one of us wins that Mega Millions tomorrow, March will have truly been a near perfect month.

We’re less than two weeks away from St. Patrick’s Day! Savannah’s grandest holiday.

For those of you keeping score, I have been able to trace that I, indeed, have Irish ancestry. I’ve only been able to trace one line officially back to Ireland…North Ireland. County Derry. That counts, right? I say most Americans won’t be able to tell, much less care about, the difference. If you’re related to me and would like to see how I’ve traced this, I’d be happy to show you.

Mike’s side is my focus now. I might get lucky – I’m part Irish, afterall.

If St. Pat’s is not your preference in superficial ethnic holidays as excuses for street parties, I can also trace lines back to Canada, Italy, Scotland, Wales, England, and Germany. Check back with me on Columbus Day or Gwyl Ifan – I’ll be ready to celebrate.

It’s just after 6pm on a Monday, and I’ve been home for nearly an hour. For most of you, this is incredibly insignificant. For me, it is an hour of life reclaimed. Joy!

The era of free TV ended at the Gull Reef Club last month. Despite the time-fillers that are the holidays, I was still rather lost and lonely without my warm, glowing friend. Worry no more, beachcombers! TV is back, and after some artful diplomacy by Mike, it is better than ever! Whole Home DVR, check. Skipping ads and slow motion, check and check. The Audience Network carrying Less Than Kind, check and mate! Hockey has never looked so good. I’ve never been able to follow the puck so well.

If you need me, you know where to find me. Good luck peeling my eyes away.

2012 randomly wandered in and has apparently decided to stay…for now anyway. I’m OK with this, as I’ve not made the pretense of setting any goals or resolutions. In the spirit of said randomness…

Retronaut – I’m obsessed.

On the historical vein, I’m enjoying my gift subscription to Ancestry.com. I’ve made some great headway on a number of family lines. Among the most insignificant, yet most memorable, concepts I’ve come across to date is that of fistula in ano. Go ahead, look it up. Now stab your eyes out. Yeah, so that was the reason given for why one of my ancestors got out of serving in the Civil War.

Keeping it historical, yet far less medical, I’m signed up to Index the 1940 US Census. It will be interesting to be part of this, if only to see how quickly it moves. I do hope everyone remembers however, accuracy above speed at all times. Wonder if I’ll run across anyone I know?

From left, or far north, field comes season 3 of Less Than Kind. The opener knocked it out of the park. Three cheers and thank you to everyone involved in that show. It could not have been easy. I’m looking forward to the rest of the year.

I suppose I should end this now. Randomness has a way of going on and on. Well there’s your obscure slice of 2012. Enjoy.

Mike is taking my old-fashioned Halloween decorations to a 21st century level. He has a very cool plan to bring our house ‘to life’ this year. We WILL have the scariest house in Savannah (and that’s heavy competition in this town!). You have been warned.

Lest I forget, Mike DID make me my birthday dinner last weekend. For posterity’s sake –

Fresh, wild-caught Georgia shrimp poached in butter/lemon/garlic, served with a white wine/homemade stock/parmesan sauce over fresh linguini. Fresh poppy seed bread to accompany. Quite delicious.

I actually did the dessert – that strawberry jello/cream cheese/pretzel dessert – the one I’ve owed to Mike for his birthday for two years now. I finally didn’t screw it up.

This weekend, I’m making peanut butter cookies. Not to brag, well actually yeah to brag, I make the best peanut butter cookies in at least Georgia, if not the eastern half of the US. Come to think of it, mine are just the best period.

Thanks Mike!

My official birthday was really more of a birthweek this year, and quite a good one at that.

One week ago, our TouchPad arrived. It’s a neat little toy. I have given the Kindle (beta) app a twirl and it seems to be pretty cool so far. I need to spend more time with it.

On Tuesday, my real birthday present arrived (gasp! yes, a birthday present) -

Beautiful, huh? It is a Squier Vintage Modified Jaguar Special Short Scale (did I get that right, Mike?) The neck is shorter in length than average. Meaning I can tune even the high strings, that is – I can actually reach their tuning pegs I anticipate writing more on this later. Thanks Mike – I love it!

The rest of the week flew by, and before I knew it, it was Friday and all of my siblings had converged upon Savannah. It had been too long since we were all together at the same time. We even scored a Bears victory on Sunday. We tried to figure out the last time we all watched a game together…likely sometime in the mid-90s.

Saturday was my actual birthday. We kept it pretty low key. We are going to do the fancy-pants meal next weekend. I did get the Halloween decorations up, which makes me ridiculously happy. We have a very spooky old house. The decorations really add to it.

All in all, getting older wasn’t so bad.

As the Bears were wrapping up their decisive victory against the Falcons today, I light-heartedly commented to Mike that I had forgotten how much a Bears win on Sunday can make or break my attitude for the rest of the week. He responded, “So are you saying you have Bear-Polar Disorder?”

Congratulations to the Savannah Sand Gnats for winning game two of the South Atlantic League Division Championship. We had the bonus tonight of seeing Johan Santana open. He helped moved the game along quick-like. It was over before 10.

One victory more and they win the whole Division. We bought tomorrow night’s tickets on the way out of the stadium tonight. Go Gnats!

Mike doesn’t send me flowers. This is perfectly alright by me. He gets me much better gifts than that –

It’s the amp. The bass is his, but I’ve co-opted it for now. I suspect I’ll have my own soon enough.

The fact that he got an amazing deal on it, makes me even happier given my history of cheapness thriftiness.

Thanks Mike!

Quitter, Quitter,
Queen of Twitter,
Run for President,
Or get off the Shitter.

We are at the 149th anniversary of the Sioux Uprising/Minnesota Indian War (or pick your variation on the name). More particularly, we approach the anniversary of the escape of the settlers at the Upper Agency, Yellow Medicine, Minnesota, under the keen guidance of John Otherday.

Among the 62 settlers that escaped the Upper Agency were my 4th great grandmother and 4th great grandfather, as well as my 3rd great grandfather – then, just 9 years old. By evening of the 18th, they were aware of what went down at the Lower Agency. They knew it was leave or face certain slaughter. John Otherday led the parties for the next week across the prairies and marshes of Minnesota, with my family eventually returning to the more populated St. Paul. There they settled. Waaaay down the road, the Gull Reef Club was born.

I suppose, in some respects I owe my existence to John Other Day. Many in my family may say the same. Quite an incredible story, really.

If you can set aside the overwhelmingly white/male/1864 perspective of the following, this excerpt from Charles S. Bryant’s A History of the Great Massacre by the Sioux Indians, in Minnesota helps tell the story of those few days at Yellow Medicine, August, 1862:

During all the fatal 18th of August, the people at the Upper Agency, in utter ignorance of the tragic events transpiring below, with a feeling of perfect security, continued their usual avocations. In the absence of Major Galbraith, the assistant Agent, Judge Givens, was conducting the affairs of the Agency. As night approached, an unusual gathering of Indians was observed on the hill just west of the Agency, and between it and the house of John Other Day. Judge Givens and Charles Crawford, then acting as interpreter, in the absence of Freniere, went out to them, and sought to learn why they were there in council, but could get no satisfactory reply. Soon after this, Other Day came to them with the news of the outbreak below, as did also Joseph Laframbois, a half-breed Sioux. The families there were soon all gathered together in the warehouse and dwelling of the Agent, who resided in the same building, and, with the guns they had, they prepared themselves as best they could, and awaited an attack, determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible. There were gathered here sixty-two persons, men, women, and children.

Other Day, and several other Indians, who came to them, told them they would stand by them to the last. These men visited the council outside, several times during the night; but when they were most needed, one only, the noble and heroic Other Day, remained faithful. All the others disappeared, one after another, during the night. About one or two o’clock in the morning, Stewart B. Garvie, connected with the traders’ store, known as Myrick’s, came to the warehouse, and was admitted, badly wounded, a charge of buckshot having entered his bowels. Garvie was standing in the door of his store when he was fired upon and wounded. He ran up stairs, and jumping from the window into the garden, crawled away, and reached the Agency without further molestation. At about this time Joseph Laframbois went to the store of Daily & Pratt, and awakened the two men in charge there, Duncan R. Kennedy and J. D. Boardman, and told them to flee for their lives. They hastily dressed and left the store, but had not gone ten rods, when they saw in the path before them three Indians. They stepped down from the path, which ran along the edge of a rise in the ground of some feet, and crouching in the grass, the Indians passed within eight feet of them. Kennedy went on toward Fort Ridgley, determined to reach that post if possible, and Boardman went to the warehouse. At the store of William H. Forbes, Constans, bookkeeper, a native of France, was killed. At the store of Patoile, Peter Patoile, clerk, and nephew of the proprietor, Was shot just outside the store, the ball entering at the back and coming out near the nipple, passing through his lungs. An Indian came to him after he fell, turned him over, and saying ” He is dead,” left him.

They then turned their attention to the stores. The clerks in the store of Louis Robert had effected their escape, so that there were now no white men left, and when they had become absorbed in the work of plunder, Patoile crawled off into the bushes on the bank of the Yellow Medicine, and concealed himself. Here he remained all day Tuesday, in sight of the stores, which the savages were plundering, and at which they were engaged during the entire day. After dark he got up and started for a place of safety. Ascending the bluff, out of the Yellow Medicine bottom, he passed the Government warehouse and dwellings of the employees, half a mile distant from the trading-post. They had already been plundered and sacked. Patoile dragged himself a mile and a half further that night, to the Minnesota, at the mouth of the Yellow Medicine. Wading the Minnesota, he entered the house of Louis Labelle, a settler on the opposite side at the ford. It was deserted. Finding a bed in the house, he lay down upon it, and was soon asleep, and did not awake until morning, when two half-breeds, Joseph Laframbois and Narces Freniere, and an Indian, Makacaga, entered the house, and finding him there, awoke him, telling him there were hostile Indians about, and that he must go into a ravine near by and hide. They gave him a blanket to disguise himself, and going with him to the ravine, concealed him in the grass and left him, promising to return, as soon as it was safe to do so, bring him food, and guide him away to the prairie. He lay in this ravine until toward night, when his friends, true to their promise, returned, bringing some crackers, tripe, and onions. They went with him some distance out on the prairie, and enjoining upon him not to attempt to go to Fort Ridgley, and giving him the best directions they could as to the course he should take, shook hands with him and left him. Their names should be inscribed upon tablets more enduring than brass. That night he slept on the prairie, and the next day resumed his wanderings, over an unknown region, without an inhabitant. After wandering for days without food or drink, his little stock of crackers and tripe being exhausted, he came to a deserted house, which he did not know. Here he remained all night, and obtained two raw potatoes and three ears of green corn. These he ate raw. It was all the food he had for eight days. Wandering, and unknowing whither to go, on the twelfth day out from Labelle’s house, he heard the barking of dogs, and creeping nearer to them, still fearing there might be Indians about, he was overjoyed at seeing white men. Soon making himself and his condition known, he was taken and kindly cared for by these men, who had some days before deserted their farms, and had now returned to look after their crops and cattle. He now learned for the first time where he was. He had struck a settlement far up the Sauk Valley, some forty miles above St. Cloud. He must have wandered, in those twelve days of suffering, not less than two hundred miles, including deviations from a direct course.

He was taken by these men, in a wagon, to St. Cloud, where his wound was dressed for the first time. From St. Cloud the stage took him to St. Anthony, where he took the cars to St. Paul. The writer was well acquainted with him at Yellow Medicine, and met him in St. Paul, about an hour after his arrival in that city, as one risen from the dead. A case of equal suffering and equal endurance is scarcely to be found on record. With a bullet-wound through the lungs, he walked twelve days, not over a smooth and easy road, but across a trackless prairie, covered with rank grass, wading sloughs and streams on his way, almost without food, and for days without water, before he saw the face of a man; and then traveled, by wagon, stage, and cars, over one hundred miles.

His recovery was rapid, and he soon enlisted in the 1st Regiment Minnesota Mounted Rangers, under General Sibley, in the expedition against the Sioux. Patoile was in the battles on the Missouri in the summer of 1863, where his company—that of Captain Joseph Anderson—is mentioned as having fought with great bravery.

We now return to the warehouse at Yellow Medicine, which we left to follow the strange fortunes of young Patoile. Matters began to wear a serious aspect when Garvie came to them, mortally wounded. They laid him upon a lounge in Major Galbraith’s parlor, and did all for him that the circumstances admitted. Other Day was constantly on the watch outside, and reported the progress of affairs, keeping those within constantly posted. Toward daylight every friendly Indian but him had deserted them, and they then-felt that their case was well-nigh hopeless, and began seriously to canvass the question of flight. The demoniac yells of the savages came distinctly to their ears from the trading-post below, half a mile distant. They were absorbed in the work of plunder. The chances of escape were sadly against them, even if they made the attempt. To remain was certain destruction. They decided to make the attempt. Other Day knew every foot of the country over which they must pass, and would be their guide.

The teams were hastily harnessed to the wagons and Iriven to the door. A bed was placed in one of them; Garvie was laid upon it. The women and children provided a few loaves of bread, hastily taken; and, just as day dawned, the cortege started on its perilous way. Most of the men were compelled to walk. This party consisted of the family of Major Galbraith, wife, and three children; Nelson Givens, wife, and wife’s mother, and three children; Noah Sinks, wife, and two children; Henry Eschele, wife, and five children; John Fadden, wife, and three children; Mr. German and wife; Frederick Patoile, wife, and two children; Mrs. Jane K. Murch, Miss Mary Charles, Miss Lizzie Sawyer, Miss Mary Daly, Miss Mary Hays, Mrs. Eleanor Warner, Mrs. John Other Day and one child, Mrs. Hanrahan, N. A. Miller, Edward Cramsie, Z. Hawkins, Oscar Canfil, Mr. Hill, an artist of St. Paul, J. D. Boardman, Parker Pierce, Dr. J. L. Wakefield, and several others, mostly young men, whose names we do not know.

They crossed the Minnesota at Labelle’s farm, and soon turned into the timber on the Hawk River, crossed that stream at some distance above its mouth, and ascended from the narrow valley through which it runs to the open prairie beyond, and followed down the Minnesota, keeping back on the prairie as far as the farm of Major J. R. Brown, eight miles below the Yellow Medicine. Mr. Fadden and Other Day visited the house, and found it deserted. A consultation then took place, for the purpose of deciding where they should go. Some of them wished to go to Fort Ridgley; others, to some town away from the frontier. Other Day told them that if they attempted to go to the fort they would all be killed, as the Indians would either be lying in ambush on that road for them, or would follow them, believing they would attempt to go there. His counsel prevailed, and they turned to the left, across the prairie, in the direction of the Kandiyohi Lakes and Glencoe. They traveled all day over the prairie without seeing a house, and, at night, prepared to bivouac on the prairie, wfcen one of the party mounted a horse and rode forward, and found a house about a mile ahead. They hastened forward, and reached it in time to escape a furious storm which raged that night. They were kindly received by the only person about the premises, a man, whose family were away. Here they remained until the next morning. Soon after crossing Hawk River they were joined by Louis Labelle and Gertong, his son-in-law, who remained with them all that day. On Wednesday morning they left the house of the friendly settler, and that night reached Cedar City, eleven miles from Hutchinson, in the county of McLeod. The inhabitants had deserted the town, and gone to an island in Cedar Lake, and had erected a rude shelter. There was shallowwater, at one point, from the mainland to this island. Through this water our escaping party drove, guided by one of the citizens of Cedar City, and were cordially welcomed by the people assembled there.

That night it rained, and all were drenched to the skin. Poor Garvie was laid under a rude shed, upon his bed, and all was done for him that they could do; but, in the morning, it was evident that he could go no further, and he was taken to the house of a Mr. Peck, and left. He died there, a day or two afterward. Some of the company, who were so worn out as to be unable to go on beyond Hutchinson, returned to Cedar City, and saw that he was decently interred.

On Thursday they went on, by way of Hutchinson and Glencoe, to Carver, and thence to Shakopee and St. Paul. But for the unflinching devotion of Other Day (Ampatutokicha) and his wise guidance, they would all have been lost, as it has been since learned that Indians were on the fort road, who would undoubtedly have destroyed the entire party. Major Galbraith, in a report to the Department, says of this escape:

“Led by the noble Other Day, they struck out on the naked prairie, literally placing their lives in this faithful creature’s hands, and guided by him, and him alone. After intense suffering and privation, they reached Shakopee, on Friday, the 22d of August, Other Day never leaving them for an instant; and this Other Day is a pure, full-blooded Indian, and was, not long since, one of the wildest and fiercest of his race. Poor, noble fellow! must he, too, be ostracized for the sins of his nation? I commend him to the care of ft just God and a liberal government; and not only him, but all others who did likewise.”

My 4th great grandfather’s name is listed above. Spot him and I will eat a cookie in your honor.

Thank you, John Otherday!

A huge thanks to whomever turned in my wallet that I dropped on River Street this weekend. I really can’t believe I was able to track it down. May much good karma come your way!

15 years ago today…

Bob Dole had just announced his run for president against incumbent Bill Clinton;
People were still trying to figure out what happened to that Valuejet plane over the Everglades;
Jihadis were dealt with;
The evil GOP wouldn’t shutup about ANWR; and
Mike and I got together. Huzzah.