How Far Back Can You Go?

 In addition to Veteran's Day, this is also my mother's birthday, so I sort of alternate which I blog about. Today, it's Mom. And a little more genealogy.

I just finished reading a series of books that spans the time period from 1829 to 1919, following one particular family (fictional). It does continue on in an epilogue to bring the people's lives to their conclusions, but the general narrative spans about 100 years. It got me to thinking.

First, here are a couple of pics of Mom that I have not previously shared. These were taken on the same day (professional studio photos), but I don't know the date. However, I am guessing 1916. That would make my mother, Catherine Burnham Rowe Leary, seven years old. I think she looks a little older, but I'll explain why I choose seven with the next picture.

Here is the other picture taken on the same day. This is her mother, Emily Marguerite Fisher Rowe, her brother Merrill Fisher Rowe (Jacques), and her. Jacques (say Jack) is two years older, and I think he doesn't look older than nine. Notice their hands. Mom was large-boned and solid. Jacques was fine-boned. She always said she took after her father.

After reading the books, I got to thinking about who was born the earliest that I actually know. That would be my great-grandmother Rowe (Mom's father's mother). Meeting her is my earliest memory. I was about 13 months old. She was born January 29, 1858. That's 166 years ago. What's the birth year of the oldest person you personally remember?

Here is the day I saw her. She was brought to our house for the specific purpose of meeting me. She was 91. Her name is Annie Cordelia Burnham Rowe



Without getting too entangled in more genealogy, I learned who, specifically, Mom and her siblings were named after:
Catherine (her maternal grandmother Catherine Louisa Hall Fisher) Burnham (the maiden name of her paternal grandmother)
Merrill (his paternal grandfather Merrill Jordan Rowe) Fisher (the maiden name of his mother)
Margaret (never could figure this out unless a derivation of Marguerite) Perham (the maiden name of Annie's mother)- this baby died when only 3 hours old.

I edited (but not enough), worked on autumn olive a little, did miscellaneous things, and Om and I went to Applebees to take advantage of their free veteran's meal.

See A Veteran's Day Story

111 on 11-11

  Some years, on November 11, I post about the fact that it is my Mom's birthday. This year has to be one of those. She would be 111 years old today. That's a lot of ones.

I thought I'd hunt up a picture of her that you haven't seen before. In fact, I found a rather unusual one. There aren't many pictures of her father (Howard Meade Rowe), particularly not with his children. As far as I know, he was a fine father, but I think most pictures of that era were more likely of children with their mothers.

At any rate, this is taken on a beach (on an apparently cold day) in New Jersey in- are you ready for this?- 1911. Lots of elevens floating around here.

The child on the left is not me slipped through a time warp, although I'm a doppelganger for Jacques (Merrill). Mom, Catherine, is on the right. It was a little weird looking through that album. Jacques was first born, and there are lots of pictures of him. I kept seeing myself, only in the wrong era. We really do look alike.

At any rate, this is a nice picture to honor Mom. She always said she got along better with Howard, her father, than with her mother. He was dead before I was born, so I never knew him.

In other news: I was going to goof off today, but I did some stuff anyway. I wrote 577 words. Omer and I went out to take advantage of his free veteran's meal. Then I had to deal with some of the mess generated by my trying to find something yesterday. The mice have been into yet another pile of things I cared about, so that had to be cleaned up. I bought a plastic box to hold what's left. Now I've discovered the box is broken, so that has to be returned. The errands never end. Anyway, I've been sorting through quite a bit of nostalgic stuff. Perhaps you'll see some of it in days to come.

See A Veteran's Day Story

Startling Family Resemblence

 
Have you ever found an old photograph and been so startled by it you just could hardly breathe?

That happened to me quite recently. Although I'm not letting myself get bitten by the genealogy bug yet (because I know I'll become totally infected and incapacitated to do much else), I have dabbled a bit on a website called findagrave. The value of what you can find on it sort of depends on whether a particular cemetery has an enthusiastic volunteer to add data and pictures. But the cemetery where a lot of my mother's side is buried is quite well represented.

Now, let me first explain that I had no idea what this family member looked like before he was 72 years old. He ran away from home when he was 14 (in 1897) and was never heard from again until 1958. The family member is the oldest of my grandmother's brothers. She (Emily Marguerite Fisher) was oldest, then Ben, Lew, and Charlie. This family picture, taken in 1907 does not include Ben, because he'd been gone for ten years, and it's the oldest family photo I have. (Click the link if you want to read my thoughts on why I think it's remarkable).

So I was cruising findagrave, I think to verify some death dates, and there was a link to Benjamin Smith Fisher's gravesite, with a thumbnail picture- way too small to see details. I clicked it. I'm guessing it had to have been taken just before he ran off. I can believe this boy was about 14 in the picture. But I have to tell you, seeing this took my breath away.

Here's why. You've seen this next picture before, but not your whole life, as I have. This is the formal portrait of my uncle Jacques (Merrill Fisher Rowe), who was killed at age 26. Jacques was Granny's firstborn, my mother's older brother. Wow! Can you say family resemblance?

Here's the thing... it's like looking backwards into a long telescoping mirror. I've always been told I look like Jacques. When Granny started losing it, she began calling me Jacques (just say Jack- Granny liked the odd spelling).

The next picture I'll show you is one I don't like much. It was my 8th grade school picture, and my mouth was all swollen because I'd had braces put on my teeth the day before, but I was usually grinning with my mouth open, so this picture looks the most like the two above.

Now let's back up a few years. I've promised in the past to hunt up these shots, but today I am delivering. The first one is Jacques on the left and me on the right.



Ditto at slightly older ages.



I really, really wish we could go back one more generation. Granny and Ben's mother (Catherine Louisa Hall Fisher) looked not at all like these pictures. I know I have one poor picture of Granny's father. I may have a couple of better ones. I have two snapshots of Ben that he sent when he suddenly got in touch with the family after almost 60 years. I can possibly compare how those two looked when they were older. So now I'm wondering if Ben, Jacques, and I look like Charles Alfred Fisher.

Having this picture of Ben means a lot to me.

	See On Mom's Dresser
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On Mom's Dresser

 
I've been sorting. Don't even ask how it's going. The house looks like a disaster area (more than usual), but the hope is that when it's put back together there will be a little less junk, and a few more things that go together will be located together. That's a never-ending task.

Anyway. Today I found three of the four men who were always on my mom's dresser. Not sure why the fourth picture wasn't with these three. The missing one is of her dad. Perhaps it will surface eventually.

The very same dresser was also handy, now residing in my dining room. Just for you, I cleared part of the top and put the pictures back where they belong. Lots of reflections, but I wanted to put them in their "proper" context just for one minute.



It looks to me as if all the pictures were taken when the men were about the same ages, but not the same years, because they are from different generations.

The picture on the far left is my dad, Ray F. Leary. It looks to me as if he might have been college age (he went to Cornell but did not graduate). That would make it about 1922, and probably the oldest of the pictures.


In the middle is dad's son, John S. Leary. As a child looking at that picture he always looked to me like a grownup. Looking at the picture now, he seems more like a high school student. That places the year around 1944, the newest of the pictures.


On the far right is Mom's brother, Merrill F. Rowe, "Jacques." He was killed in 1933 at age 26. I'm guessing college age as well for this shot. That would put it around 1929.


Of course none of these pictures is labeled. At least I'm going to get that done before they are relegated back to a box. Two of the three would need new frames to display them (hanger/stander broken) and it seems wrong somehow to change the frames they've been in for my entire lifetime.

Another interesting mystery was also uncovered. Tucked in the frame of Jacques' picture was a cancelled check written by his father (the missing picture) Howard M. Rowe, to him in May of 1933 for $350.00 Pretty big bucks for back then. Wonder what it was for!

	See Who's Important See Passages See Ray F. Leary
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Who's Important? and a Family Mystery

 
While sorting some things today, I came across a leather 4-fold picture frame that I don't recall ever seeing before.



Judging from the age and three of the pictures that were in it, I'm sure it was my grandmother's. That said, there's a bit of a mystery...

The far left space has a picture of "Aunt Lucy." She's no relation at all, but was a friend of Granny's. She went on several vacations with us. To me, as a child, she was sort of a non-person. Just an adult who showed up for various things. Right at the moment, I can't even remember her last name. Clearly, she was very important to Granny. I never realized how much, if this collection of pictures means anything.

The next slot is filled with a photo of my grandfather, Granny's husband, Howard Meade Rowe. I never knew him. He died before I was born.

Next is, well... me. I'm about two. This was one of a set of professional photos that Granny had taken. There is another one that ended up being framed with Granny, Mom and me together (same dress, age, etc). I don't think I've ever seen this one of me alone.

Now comes the mystery part. Who was in the fourth frame? Clearly, there is a picture there of my mother. But it was not put there by Granny, and it doesn't fit the frame. The picture was taken after Granny was no longer living on her own. I'll show you the picture of my mom, in a minute. My guess is there was a picture there of "Jacques." (just say Jack- Granny had pretensions) Here's why I think that.

First of all, Granny never made any bones about it that Jacques and I were her favorites. She made a point of snubbing my mom regularly. Secondly, behind the too-small-for-the-frame photo is a letter written by Jacques that I've never seen before. Obviously something Granny really treasured. I'll treasure it too. Jacques (Merrill Fisher Rowe) was killed in a terrible accident when he was 26. We don't have many mementos of his life. Granny (her writing) has dated this 8/4/15. That's 1915. Jacques would have been eight. (In some ways, it's a little creepy to find something written a century ago, by an uncle I never knew.)

On the front it says "Dear Father, Uncle Lew put a saddle on Kate and I rode her around the yard. Love, Merrill."

On the reverse is a picture of a horse with a rider. It's labeled "Kate and me."

I think that Mom found this picture set at some point and removed the photo of Jacques. I know that she loved him dearly, but was naturally always hurt at Granny's favoritism. She couldn't keep it out of her voice when family topics arose. Then, she added her own picture, and three other letters to that last space. Those letters are two short notes I wrote to her, long after I was married and raising kids. Also, there is a thank-you note to her from Steve, our youngest, for a birthday gift. I would only classify one of those letters as anything significant, so I'm not sure why Mom chose to stash them there. She kept all my other letters, but I discovered them in plain manilla envelopes, long ago.

If Mom sort of commandeered the frame for people she cared about, I'm not sure why she left the photo of Aunt Lucy. I never had any sense of closeness between the two of them.

Do you think I'll come across a loose picture of Jacques that would fit this frame somewhere?

Anyway, here's Mom. Photo taken around 1965, my best guess anyway.

Families can be strange things, can't they?

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The Charles Alfred Fisher Family

 


Once again, I'm going to play along with Chuck's Family Friday. I don't think I'll be doing this every week. However, on my recent visit to Chuck & Sylvia's I asked him to show me how his genealogy notebook was organized. He introduced me to the Ahnentafel numbering system for tracing a family tree backwards.

I can't afford to get hooked just yet. Why, you ask? Because when I start, I'm going to want to really be serious about this. I already know quite a bit about some of my ancestors, but I'd like to learn more, and get all the pictures and memorabilia I have organized.

Meanwhile, I share a picture with you that I treasure, even though I only have a small digital scan of the original. It was sent to me by the daughter of one of my mother's cousins. I have no idea what that is called. I just Googled it and of the top ten answers, I got three choices: second cousin, second cousin once removed, and third cousin. So, she's one of those! I haven't seen her since we were children. (This is not the even more distant cousin that I am in touch with.)

Anyway, here's the picture.


It was taken in 1907. I can figure that out because the woman standing is my grandmother (Granny), Emily Marguerite Fisher Rowe, and the baby she is holding is my uncle Jacques. We have lots of pictures of those people. However, the rest of the picture is quite remarkable.

First of all, notice that it's quite a casual pose. Snapshots that were less than formal occasions were just coming into vogue.

The seated man with the newspaper is Granny's father, Charles Alfred Fisher, and his wife (also seated) is Catherine Louisa Hall Fisher. She was an amazing woman. If I get hooked on this, I'll share more about her. The boy at the table is Lewis A. Fisher. My grandmother was the oldest of four children. She was born in 1882, and Lew in 1886. That would make him about 21 here. Ben, next born, is not in the picture because he ran away from home when he was 14. The youngest is Charlie, Charles Henry Fisher, born 1888, so he's 19.

I don't know for sure, but I think the picture might have been taken in a house in Spencer, New York that is still standing. I'm guessing it's Charles and Catherine's home, since they look as if they belong there, and because the boys are also there.

Lew is the grandfather of the cousin who sent me the picture.

Charles Alfred would have been 56, and Catherine 49 when this was taken. I have some unlabeled family pictures, and I'm hoping maybe this photo will help me ID this couple in some of the others.

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Emily Marguerite Fisher Rowe 1882-1972

I'm going to play along with Chuck's Family Friday "game" today, even though it's Thursday. I won't be doing this very often, but today is a milestone kind of day. If my grandmother were alive, she would have turned 130 today. Can you believe it? It's true. She was born January 19, 1882. I have too many pictures to share, but it was SO hard to pick just a few. Even so, the ones I chose hardly do justice to the versatility of Emily Marguerite Fisher Rowe.

I was looking for the earliest photo we have of her, and I had already scanned this one from 1906, when I found a portrait from 1900. But I kept this one, because it has more interest, I think.



Granny, Emily, was the oldest of four children, and the only girl. She was born in Spencer, New York, to Charles and Catherine Fisher, and her brothers were Lou, Ben, and Charlie. Although she was the oldest, I never knew any of her brothers (we did receive a couple of pictures from Ben when I was about ten).

She was always athletic. Tales abound of her beating the boys at goat cart races, or climbing trees (usually with a book to read). There are photos of her climbing mountains in the Adirondacks, rowing a boat, camping, and playing tennis in bloomers.

In 1906 she married Howard Meade Rowe, and Merrill Fisher Rowe (called Jacques- "Jack") was born in 1907, and my mother, Catherine Burnham Rowe, was born in 1909.



Pictures of Jacques and me at similar ages, side by side, are indistinguishable except for the age of the photo.

There was another daughter, Margaret Perham Rowe, born in 1913, who was a preemie and only lived three hours. Jacques was killed in a tragic accident when he was 26. Of course that was long before I was around, but Granny never really got over it, and Jacques was always a "presence," especially since I looked so much like him.

Granny was forever interested in many things. She gave public "readings," as they were called in the early 1900's. Most were sentimental or religious essays or poems, staged quite dramatically. She also gave lectures about quilts and quilting. There are scrapbooks of clippings about many of her performances/talks. She was an avid knitter, and taught me to knit when I was four.

Howard died in 1941, so I never knew him either. But Granny apparently enjoyed a few more years of outdoor activity. This is one of my favorite pictures, taken about 1945. I still have the snowshoes, snowpants, and sweater she is wearing! (Although the photo was tinted with colors that don't match the actual clothes.)



She had slowed down a lot by the time I appeared in 1948. This picture is the two of us in 1960. I've always just liked this one too. It's very typical Granny, and I look less dorky than I usually did during that period of life.



This is definitely the last picture that was taken, on her 89th birthday, about 17 months before she died.



I have to say with all honesty that our family was quite dysfunctional, probably because we were all very strong personalities, also with strong flaws. Granny was an amazing person, however, and if I could have known her as an adult rather than a child, I would have been able to better understand some of the reasons she was the way she was.

I'm a strange mixture of her and my father... the two people who never could get along with each other. (That will tell you a lot about me, if you have made it this far.)

I do think that people who lived in her generation had to make huge mental leaps at the changes in the "world." When she was a child the primary transportation was still horse and buggy, and before she died we put a man on the moon. I'm not sure that even the transition to the digital age can compete with that scope of technological change.

Anyway... that's my Granny. Happy Birthday.

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