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.

Giraffe Lady

She was tall. Over 6ft. Size 11 shoes. She was Jessie of course, my great-aunt.

Jessie around 1912.

East Tech HS.

Aunt Jessie died about 6 months before I was born but it's possible for me to say that - I feel like I knew her. I've heard about her from everyone. 

When I was younger I was given some of her jewelry and we even have her hope chest in our house.

Aunt Jessie never married and I do not believe she ever worked. My father once described her to me like this, " Jessie tried. She tried really hard and really wanted people to like her but she just had kind of a bad way about her. ". Later I asked my mom about the "bad way" comment and was told Aunt Jessie , could be, quite nasty at times.

My cousin Cher talks about Aunt Jessie's back pack. As she didn't work, my grandfather likely supplied all of her funds, and she ALWAYS had a backpack full of gifts. 

L to R: (Back) Unknown Male, Dorothy Leisenheimer, Jessie Miles
(Front) Estelle Holan, Sterlie Abraham Miles, Sterlie Arthur Miles

Lois Sullivan McBride

Lois was, technically, my grandmother's niece; however, they were about the same age. She and her sister Anna Mae grew up very close to "Marge" aka my grandmother! I've been told the girls were much like sisters.

I MUST have met Lois once and it was likely at Anna Mae's funeral. At the time, I was about 10 years old and don't recall significant details. Her son, cousin Jim, was kind enough to send me some photos her.

Lois was quite a beautiful woman and Jim said the three girls looked quite a bit alike:) She and her husband raised two boys together. Lois passed away in 2001. 

I see the resemblance to my grandmother here!

With her husband and boys.