Yearbook Fun!

I found some fun photos and information on my grandfather last night:

1943

1948

WWII 

1942

Ukrainian Crazy

My Great-Grandmother, Eva, is a bit of mystery. Not even a photo of her exists.

The only story I know about her, from Aunt Arlene, is that she had a temper  - and she was nuts.

She would get so upset she would smack her kids around with skillets and the only thing that would calm her down was vanilla ice cream. Aunt Arlene recalled several late nights of running out for ice cream (along with Uncle Steve whom she was dating at the time) so she'd stop beating the kids.

Marge

I didn't know my maternal Grandmother but despite dying suddenly at age 53, she lived a colorful life.

She was born Margaret Mary on April 11, 1922 in Cleveland, Ohio. The circumstances of her early years can be found in previous blogs (See Tag: Evans).

Her friends and family called her Marge. She went to South High School and was quite popular. During a game in which her school played Holy Name, my grandfather asked her out. She had been asked out by a suitor from her home team and eventually declared she'd go with whomever's team won. My grandfather's team won.

In 1943 she enlisted in the Women's Army Auxiliary Corps. According to a cousin she did this by running away to Columbus, and was then stationed in Florida. She did this due to an affair with a married man gone wrong. After 3 months she was discharged due to a skin condition the Army was tired of attempting to treat despite the humid location aggravating it.

She married my grandfather and raised 4 kids.

On 4th of July weekend in 1975, she suddenly died to a ruptured cerebral aneurysm.

Thanksgiving

Gosh, when did life get so busy?

I wanted to write a VERY quick post for Thanksgiving.

Every year my Grandma Miles brought the same thing to dinner, nobody liked it. Nobody wanted to eat it. She would even put it on your plate.

Rutabaga's .... gross!

Aunt Sarah

The best part of having a legacy name is knowing the face that goes with the name.

Meet Sarah Jones Grant. My Great-Great-Grandmother that I was named for.

A hidden family tree...

A few months ago, my Uncle Tom suddenly passed away. Taking care of his affairs has been, mostly, handled by my cousin.

My cousin is slowly going through his things, including 300 some odd book pages when he came across this gem.

I have a lot more work to do but it's more than I've ever known about the family. My Dad said it was drawn up by he thinks (Herbert) a relative that visited in 1976 from Germany. It was made at my Grandparents home likely with his siblings, Uncle, and cousins. The relatives should all have copies but this is the first time any of us have seen it!

I'm so excited!

May the wind always be at your back ...

Link Roundup

A few (or a lot!) of links to round up this week:

Uncle Nick:

Cleveland Plain Dealer
Find a Grave
American Battle Monuments Commission
ABMC Facebook Post
Omaha Beach Memorial
Les fleurs de la Memoire
505th RCT Page
Special Forces ROH
Cleveland Veterans Memorial
AMBC: We Remember
ABMC: Mom visits Uncle Nick's Grave

E-Bay Round Up:

Isaac Evans (my great-grandfather) - Cleveland Press , Milking a Cow

Dorothy : God's Gift

I'm doing pretty good at this challenge and I'm only a bit behind. I've been putting off writing this one. Mostly, I have a lot to say - or I don't know what to say. How do you begin to write about a woman you greatly misunderstood in life but came to understand in death?

Dorothy is a Greek name and it means God's Gift. Click your heels? No, no - she was my grandmother.

Grandma was born in June 1917 and had an older brother, Bob. Her father was HJ and her mother Isabel. During the 1929 crash the family continued to do well due to HJ's business skills but do not mistake that she was very much a child of the depression.

They went to Europe often. Grandma had a run in with the Gestapo. My father says it didn't happen, my Aunt Linda says it did.

After she died I was able to read her diary. She received a diamond ring for her HS graduation. She graduated Ohio Wesleyan. Her mother died during her college years. She married my grandfather after college and they settled in her native Cleveland Heights. Grandma was a Librarian and kept the schools plants. She carted them home each school break to care for them.

As a child, I thought she was a hoarder. It was her depression upbringing coming into view. Bread bags were lunch bags, stocking held onions, etc.

Grandma loved arts : Ballet, Orchestra, Opera, Museums, etc. She adored the Nutcracker, something that makes me miss her more around Christmas.

She hated pictures, I'm assuming because she literally buried every member of her family (and in-laws) over her life. All she had left was the family she created - children and grandchildren.

We all miss her, I wish I would have known her better but she died a few days after my 14th birthday in 1999.

Dorothy, Isabel, and HJ.

Aunt Edith

I have a love/hate relationship with the next relative I want to share a bit about.

Edith Evans was the older sister of my maternal grandmother. She married her husband, James Sullivan, at age 16. Her daughters were Anna Mae & Lois.

When Edith’s mother, Mary died, my grandmother was 12 years old and lacked any other female figures. Her father and brothers did their best to raise her.

Growing up, I was told Edith was “cruel”, “nasty”, “unkind”, and “not just to your grandmother Marge but to her own children, poor Anna Mae “. It remains unknown to me if she was physically, mentally, emotionally, or all of the above abusive towards the girls. 

Edith died in 1962 following a stroke she suffered some time prior.

They don't throw things away.

I received a neat but also humorous email from my Dad the other day ..... take it away Dad!

I found this interesting. In the wedding photo, my folks are reading a Western Union Telegram. In times past these were used for the most important communications. In the second picture is what I believe the actual telegram. Note the similarities. This was from Sam Mora & his wife Marion from a cabin? in far off Canada. Sam & Marion are buried several graves down from Henry & Isabel at Lakeview. Some things never get thrown away in this family.

Cousin Skinner

Skinner aka Patrick Joseph Logan was my Great-Great-Uncle.

I don't know much about him except he came over with my Great-Grandmother, Mary Logan Evans, from Ireland when they were small.

I'm not sure why he was called Skinner or why we all call him cousin instead of uncle.

d#: 0208702
Name: Logan, Patrick J. (Skinner)
Date: Jan 13 1949
Source: Source unknown;  Cleveland Necrology File, Reel #050.
Notes: Logan, Patrick J. (Skinner), beloved husband of Emma (nee Godenschwager); father of Mrs. Farrell Finnerty (Bertha), James, Doris; brother of Catherine Parderski, Agnes Herbison, and grandfather; at his late residence, 9309 Bancroft Ave. Friends received at James P. Mullancy Funeral Home, 9811 Miles Ave. Funeral Friday, Jan. 14. Holy Name Church, 9:30 a. m.

Lois Grant Mora

Lois was my grandmother's aunt.

Technically, she was born Hannah Lois Grant but hated her birth name. My grandmother, was given her middle name in her honor, Lois.

Lois was born on June 12, 1890 in Troy, NY. She was the eldest of three.

In 1913 she married George Mora. They never had any children and she died on September 3, 1958 in Lake, Ohio. She was interred at Lake View Cemetery in Cleveland.

Harriet

This is going to be one short post.

Harriet P William born circa 1815 in MA.

She marries Abraham Miles in December 1835 in Cleveland.

They appear on and off in the census for the Euclid area.

Harriet dies May 9, 1892 in Cleveland. Her body was sent to Independence Township Vault by a municipal Cleveland Cemetery.

That's it. I know nothing more. Harriet is a true enigma.

The Library Cleaner

My mother's grandfather was Issac Evans. Isaac was a twin and the youngest of many born to Welsh immigrants in Cleveland. His parents William & Christianna immigrated from Wales. 

Isaac worked as a fireman, labor jobs, and most notably - a library custodian at the Miles Park Branch.

Isaac suffered memory lapses in his later years and not much is known about his family. He died in 1945 and is buried with his wife, Mary, in Calvary Cemetery. 

The Cheese Spread

I'm going to divert this weeks blog from Isaac Evans to a 4 legged friend. Pets play an integral part of our lives. In my mother's family, we are known as the "animal Polachek's".

My mother's eldest sister Linda was born with a physical disability. She has never let it stop her; however, she has limitations. Growing up she began learning about animals, caring for them, etc. Unfortunately, I'm not able to find the exact article but her budding animal career is mentioned in the papers. One recalls the "strange incidents at the Frank Polachek household" namely when Stash the armadillo smashed all the bleach bottles in the middle of the winter. Or the time tree frogs jumped all over my grandmother. I could go on and on with family stories that involve animals. Birds, herps, exotics, they had them all.


Growing up, we had two cats as my father did not like dogs. We had a rotweiler for awhile but that didn't work out. Tiger was adopted from the APL. Mr. J was found wandering the tracks in Cleveland while my father was on patrol and as he put it , " it was a one way ride to the APL ". Mr. J was an orange tabby. Tiger was a tiger/white cat. Tiger got into moth balls and died when we were young. Mr. J was ride or die.

Mr. J was "drugged" by the vet and moved to AZ with us (in the car!!!). I remember his fat ass burrowing under hotel beds and us trying to coax him out. He loved sleeping in the pilot light of the furnace.

In 1995, Mr. J started missing the litter box and having problems. We took him to the vet. Kidney failure. We made the decision to put him down and we cried for days.

For my 13th birthday I really wanted an orange tabby like Mr. J. My Aunt Kathy had recently found an abandoned litter, no mother in sight, near deaconess hospital in Cleveland. One cat was a skinny runt they named little boy. Little boy was neutered and declared healthy. I didn't know it yet but he was bound for Phoenix.

Fighting the USDA weather restrictions on live shipments of animals, he was flown from Cleveland to Atlanta and finally to Phoenix around my birthday. He was so calm that he didn't require anesthesia or drugs of any sort.

I had no idea he was being flown in. We got a call and mom said we had to go to Terminal 2 Cargo Hold. There we found a scared orange tabby in a big red box. It was Crackers.

From there, he was mine. We lived in Arizona and travelled to California, Oregon, and Washington. He rode shot gun in my car.

I'd like to keep my other memories private, something I can hold on to.

Thank you for being my friend Crackers but most importantly - thank you for being my family.

Isabel

Isn't it funny how with some we recall the end of their lives but not the life - or how they lived for that matter.

Shortly after my Uncle Dave died, my Aunt Robin mentioned my father had a 5 year diary my late grandmother kept. I asked him to to read it and he sent it out.

She began authoring it around 1934, her junior year of high school. It was a line a day. The diary chronicled things like camping, dates, graduating high school, her mother's death, and graduating college. Her mother's death was quite interesting to me. Her mother, Isabel, wasn't a woman I knew much about except she had been ill.

Isabel, Dorothy, and Robert Leisenheimer. Passport photo, note her signature at the bottom.

In early January 1938 my grandmother writes that her mother is going to have an operation to remove a tumor from her brain.  A few days go by and she writes that "mother is now at DeVand's funeral home" and later she counted the exact amount of flowers at the funeral home. I'm not sure if she was really that detached, the diary was limited, or maybe it was a combination of things.

Isabel's Obituary.

But yes. Sadly Grandma Isabel died on the operating table at age 46 or 48 (depending on the source).

Old Scotch Man

Known as Alex Hill, Alexander Hill was my 3rd great-grandfather. He was born August 1, 1809 in Leswalt, Scotland. Leswalt is in Southwest Scotland and across the water from Belfast, Ireland.

He married his wife Jessie (Jess) Wright in 1835 in Kirkholm, Scotland. I'm not entirely sure when they arrived but their first child, Jane, was born in 1838 in NJ. Their 4th child, Mary Ann, would later become Mary Ann Miles - my 2nd great-grandmother. The Hill's were early settlers to the Western Reserve (see my post about Archie Miles) and resided mostly in Euclid, Ohio.

Alex died in 1892 at age 83 in Cleveland, Ohio from "old age". He was buried at the now historic Monroe Street Cemetery. Alex purchased the plots for the majority of the relatives there.  He bought the graves of the "old" Miles' (his in-laws) " as my father called them. As a little girl I went a few times with my father. Most of the relatives don't have headstones but as I type this - I might send them a request to see if Alex has a stone they would photograph for me.

The gothic like gate house collapsed a few years ago. Luckily, a seasoned architect lives across the street from the cemetery and took the restoration project head on.  Construction is nearly complete and will be celebrated on September 21. The gatehouse will receive a plaque from the Landmarks Commission in addition to an Ohio Historical Marker. 

A wee bit 'o Irish

As a child I knew very little about my Irish roots. In fact, that I was Irish at all. If my sister & I spent St. Patrick's Day with our father he would make the comment that we were the only Irish in the house. One year he was challenged by my step-sister Dawn, " how are they Irish? ". I listened that time.

Eventually I knew the facts. My maternal grandmother was 1/2 Irish from her mother. Technically that made me 1/8th. In middle school I met a friend that was full Irish. Really. Her grandparents were fresh off the boats. I went to the Westside Irish American club. I ate Irish food. I went to the St. Patrick's Day parade, etc. All with the family of this friend. It was more than my family had ever taught me about my "Irishness".

I'd venture to say I'm closest to my Irish line for the simple reason that it's my mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA). mtDNA is passed down the female line. Although males receive a copy from their mother's, they do not pass it on. It also has a much slower mutation rate.

My maternal grandmother was an accident and was 20 years younger than her eldest sibling. Her mother's name was Mary Logan Evans and she died when my grandmother was 11 years old due to kidney failure. She died in August 1933 in Cleveland, Ohio and was only 53 years old. Since she died when my grandmother was so young, little was known of Mary.

This is what I know of Mary from oral history and my own research:

Mary was born to John Logan & Agnes Quinn in County Cork Ireland; however, conflicting records also show her born near Downpatrick Northern Ireland in October 1878 or 1879.

Her father, John, first left Ireland for the US. Her mother Agnes set sail at a later date, departing from England, arriving with Mary and two brothers (Patrick & John) in 1883. Mary was 5 years old and as a result, could recall very little of her time in Ireland.

Once in the US she raised Belgian Malinois for Cleveland PD. No known photos or personal stories about her exist. She was interred at Calvary Catholic Cemetery in Cleveland, Ohio.

d#: 0093040
Name: Evans, Mary
Date: Aug 1 1933
Source: Source unknown;  Cleveland Necrology File, Reel #023.
Notes: Evans: Mary, beloved wife of Isaac Evans, mother of Mrs. James Sullivan, Williams, Albert, John and Margaret Evans, sister of Patrick Logan, Mrs. X. F. Pasdersky and Mrs. Stewart Herbison, at her residence, 9321 Cassius Ave. Funeral Saturday, Aug. 19. Services at Holy Name Church at 9 a. m.

Giants Among Us

I've been a bit behind but today I caught up. When I looked in my book, I smiled, and then I didn't know what to say.

What do you say about a woman that was so great? A woman that wasn't a giant amongst women but a giant amongst humans? I truly mean that. She was wonderful.

I've previously documented how I came to correspond with her. I was transferring an old address book and was curious about this old timer Polachek still alive.

Her name was Arlene. In blood she wasn't my aunt but that didn't matter. She was married to, had children with, and deeply loved my Great-Uncle Steve. Blood or not, she was my family.

Aunt Arlene was born a Dahm to a (mostly) German family. She had two sisters named Audrey and Germaine. I don't quite recall how she met Uncle Steve but I believe it involves a friend of a friend with school.

Aunt Arlene flanked by her sisters.

She said growing up during WWII she didn't face any anti-german sentiment but confessed most of her time was spent worrying about Uncle Steve.

My mom tells great stories of spending time at her house. Uncle Steve apparently liked to " temporarily " fix things. Aunt Arlene would beg him to call my grandfather but alas no. (My grandfather was a Mr. Fix-it type!) He would relent and she said in one letter, " If I had a penny for each time I said " Please call Frank!" ".

In her lifetime she buried her sisters, a child, her husband, various friends, and various family members.

This story always stuck with me, and I'm not sure why but I luckily have the original letter still.

A couple of years after Steve died I attended a funeral for a friend - really more just a coworker, of his that we were friendly with. At the funeral I saw the man's wife and she made the comment to me that Steve & her husband were having a great time up in heaven partying. Meanwhile, we were down here miserable. A few years later, she died and I felt like gee thanks for the support.

I miss you Aunt Arlene, as does your immediate family, and anyone that was lucky enough to have known you. Till we see you again.