Motivation

Got some much-needed and appreciated encouragement today.  Sometimes there are roadblocks in this solitary journey, and it's easy to walk away from it for a while.  Today my niece told me how she loves reading the blog, and my nephew told me that he used our family tree to find baby names.  That was thrilling.  It is all the gratification I need to keep going.

Genealogy Roadshow

Love this show... on a whim I applied to be on it.  I told the story of my orphaned grandmother and the problem of finding her parents.  Here is the reply I finally got months later:

Hello from the Genealogy Roadshow Team!

We appreciate you taking the time to apply for this season of Genealogy Roadshow. Unfortunately, due to the limited amount of stories we can tell, we will not be able to move forward with your story. There are many reasons why a story doesn't make it on our show. Even though you won't be taping with us, your questions and family history are still very important. We encourage you to keep researching!

Oh well.  

Getting in deep

I broke down finally and bought the Family Tree Maker software.  I have wondered why people would need software when Ancestry does it all for you.  Yesterday I asked another serious genealogy researcher that question.  Her reasoning was... it puts your family records in your own hands in case the website goes down or they start charging exorbitant fees.  It makes it possible to continue working on the family tree even when internet is not available.  It keeps your information private until you are ready to post it on Ancestry, thus allowing you to do all the necessary verification first. I hadn't thought of any of that but it made sense.

The Family Tree Maker software downloaded all of my records from Ancestry, and automatically syncs with my online records. It gives a more comprehensive display of the information on one screen.  It can print out a large number of different reports which may come in handy.  Ancestry prints reports but is more limited.

I've found that the more ways you can look at your information, the easier it is to spot inconsistencies and inaccuracies.  Right away, I was able to see that one of my links was incorrect because I could see the birth and death dates for two generations on the same page. I have had trouble seeing the media and documents that are posted on Ancestry - that might be a major limitation, but I am still working through it.

John Dillingham,

This is a published account of the life of my 3X great grandfather, John Dilllingham, 1773-1861 (father-in-law of the first Calvin Crofford).  There is much written about him - he was quite a character and influential in settling the Liberty Township in Indiana.  He lived through many hardships at sea and on land, including tragic encounters with Indians which cost the lives of some of his family.  His life spanned 88 years and covered territory from New England to Indiana.

                      BIOGRAPHY OF JOHN DILLINGHAM

by Amos Felt, for “The Fire Lands Pioneer,” presented in June, 1867, and               appearing in their journal for June, 1867, on pages 70 -- 73.
 John Dillingham and his family were among the early settlers of the Fire Lands.  Where he was born I do not recollect, but I think that he said in Rhode Island, and that his father’s family were formerly from the vicinity of Cape Cod.  He had two or three brothers and a sister or two.  He lost his mother when quite young, and his father married a Quakeress for his second wife.Early in life he took to the ocean, intending to follow the water, but when about seventeen years of age the brig on which he was went to Lisbon for salt, and on her return trip met with adverse winds and calms, so that they were more than double the time that they intended.  Their store of provisions was exhausted and they were about casting lots to see who should be food for the rest, when they discovered a vessel; but she did not heed their signal of distress.  They soon after saw land, and another vessel came to their relief, enabling them to get into harbor, which was Hartford, Conn., I think. After making a few more voyages he quit the sea, and before he was twenty-one years of age he married Clarissa Olcott, of East Hartford, Conn., by whom he had six children, namely, Henry, Clarissa, Betsey, Sally, Fanny, and Polly, all of whom are dead; and the dust of two of them is mingled with that of the Fire lands.Within a year after his marriage he enlisted as third Sergeant under a Captain Miles, who was recruiting for General Wayne’s army, to fight the Indians.  His Captain retained him for some time in the recruiting service before he joined his regiment, which was somewhere on or near the Ohio River.  He serve his time out under General Wayne, but was not in the battle of the Falling timbers, being detailed to guard the Maumee River to attack the Indians.Many were his hairbreadth escapes while he was in the service.  He used to relate to me the following:  At one time he was detailed to carry dispatches from some post between Cincinnati, and where General Wayne was encamped the winter before the war closed, and on his return, a little before sunset, he passed an old dry tree that had fallen and was on fire.  He concluded that it was the work of the Indians and that it was not safe to stop there for the night, so he pursued his journey.  In about a mile he met six or seven men that were on their way to Wayne’s camp.  They inquired if there was any fire or chance to make any.  He told them there was one about a mile ahead of them, and they beset him hard to turn about and go and stay with them that night.  He told them he did not consider it safe and that it was a plan of the Indians to decoy some one, that they might murder him.  They only laughed at him and he put ahead until it was about dark, then left the trail and put off to one side, dug away the snow and made a hole in the ground, got some dry wood and made a little fire, took his blanket and covered himself so as not to have an light seen, and sitting, slept what he could.  The next day he arrived at his post safe.  In a few days he heard of those men being killed by the Indians that night by that fire.
After Mr. Dillingham had served his time out and got his discharge, he returned to his family in Connecticut, but after working in one place and another, some of the time by-the-day, he concluded that Connecticut was not the best place for him.  He took his little family and started for the far West.  He made a stand in the town of Stafford, between Leroy and Batavia, Genesee County, New York, where he lived until 1809.  He then moved to Ashtabula County, in this State [Ohio] then to Mentor, Geauga County, thence to Tinker’s Creek, near Cleveland.  Here he buried his first wife[i] and two of his daughters, Clarissa and Polly, having buried his third daughter, Sally, in Stafford.
He married Hannah Hicox, of Cleveland, for his second wife.  She bore him fourteen or fifteen children, among whom were Sally, Ann, John, Hannah, Betsey, King, Esther, Olcott and Comfort.  They had three births that were twins.  The most of the children died in infancy and I never knew their names.When the war of 1812 broke out Mr. Dillingham was living on Tinker’s Creek, and he either volunteered or came as a substitute to Camp Avery.  After staying there some five or six weeks, his son Henry became dissatisfied with living at home with a step-mother, came out to see him and prevailed on him and his Captain to let him serve out his father’s time.In the Spring (that is 1813) he moved to Bloomingville, and there kept a kind of log tavern, and he and Henry carried the mail from Cleveland to Camp Seneca, where Gen. Harrison was encamped.Now let me digress to relate a few incidents connected with those times.  Soon after Major Croghan beat the British and Indians off from Fort Stephenson, now Fremont, the Indians divided into two small bands of some two or three hundred each, and roamed through different sections of the country.  One party made for Bloomingville, where there was a small settlement that had been posted up in a blockhouse.  It stood on the opposite side of the road from the old brick building, built by a company that styled themselves the Commercial Bank of Sandusky Bay.  The inhabitants thought there was no danger, and had mostly left the blockhouse and gone to their homes.  It seems to me that there was a hand of Providence in their escaping the tomahawk and scalping knife.Two men, John Paxton and Seth Harrington, both good hunters took it into their heads to go to a deer lick soon after the battle at Fort Stephenson.  The lick was situated somewhere near the road then leading from Huron through Bloomingville to Lower Sandusky, and some distance West.  Some time past the middle of the afternoon they mounted their horses and started.  The road ran some of the way across prairie and other places on ridges.  As they went off the prairie onto the ridge, some two miles from the blockhouse, they discovered a few Indians coming onto the other end of the ridge.  Paxton drew his rifle to fire, but Harrington caught it and told him not to, for there were more behind them, and that they were intending to attack the settlement.  They wheeled their horses and made for the blockhouse, and rallied the settlers as soon as possible.  By that means the settlement was saved.One more incident of this affair and I will resume my narrative.  A Mrs. Wood, a widow, sister of Captain Harrington, as he was always called (for they elected him their Captain that night,) after carrying in what wood and water she might want, went upstairs and brought down a one-tined pitchfork, which she said she was going to fight the Indians with, if they attacked them while the Captain drilled the men.  She took her post with them, with her one tined pitchfork.Mr. Dillingham took the mail to carry from Cleveland to Camp Seneca, where General Harrison was encamped.  Colonel Proctor, the British commandant at Malden, was desirous of getting hold of Harrison’s dispatches, to get some clue of this intentions, and had offered the Indians a large reward if they would take the mail and bring it to him.  General Harrison was aware of their intentions and frequently sent out detachments from Colonel Ball’s squadron of mounted riflemen, to clear them from the mail route.  At one time they came upon fourteen of fifteen Indians secreted in a thicket of hazel brush, and killed all but one, who broke through the horsemen, and as they fired at him, fell over an old log and pretended to be dead, by that means getting away.  At another time they killed nine.  This I had from Henry Dillingham, who carried the mail part of the time instead of his father, and saw the Indians after they were killed.About the close of the war Mr. Dillingham bought a farm a little below the head of Cold Creek, where Mr. Petingill built a gristmill afterward.  In the Fall of 1815 he bought of John Beatty two hundred acres of land, lying in 3rd section of Perkins Township, on Pike Creek, about half way between Bloomingville and Sandusky City.  Here he made considerable improvement, but finding that Beatty’s title to the land was not good, he exchanged with him for land in the first section of Norwalk Township, where he lived from October 1819 until June 1836.  He sold the latter tract to Mr. Chas. Jackson, and moved to Porter Co., Indiana, with most of his family, and there he died some four or five years ago, aged about ninety, his wire having died some two years before him.Henry Dillingham married Amanda Page, and began a farm on Pike Creek, the next lot south of his father’s.  After living on it a year he sold out to a man by the name of Rodgers, who let it go back to Mr. Beatty.  He moved to his father-in-law’s and stayed a year, then back to Pike Creek in March, and lived there until the 1^st of October, 1819, then to the first section of Norwalk, where he lived, I think, about two years.  He then moved to Ridgefield and made the first beginning in what is called the Webb settlement, where he lived until 1837, when he sold to a man by the name of Baldwin, who afterwards sold to Daniel Ruggles.  In June 1839, he moved to Porter County, Ind., where he died, in January 1850.  They had six children born on the Fire Lands, namely, Harriet, Rebecca, Adelia, Clarissa, Lyman, and one that died and was buried on the farm in Ridgefield. Betsey Dillingham, the second daughter of John Dillingham, died the 28^th of July, 1818, on Pike Creek, and was buried on her father’s farm, on a ridge the east side of the creek, where there were four others buried – a man and his son, Clark by name, in one grave.  The other two were Titus Allen, a son of Justes Allen, aged about fifteen, and an infant child of Zina Rhoads.  The last time I was there the graves were not to be found.  The farm had been divided and the ridge had been built on, near where the graves had been.Fanny, the fourth daughter of Mr. Dillingham, was married Amos Felt, the writer of this article, October 7^th, 1819, by Julius House, Esq. They were the first couple that he married.  She died May 26^th, 1840, aged 37 years, 1 month and 9 days.  She had eight children.  Three died young, and two have since followed her – Almira, the wife of Wesley Laylin, and Julia R., the wife of J. C. Waggoner.Sally, the eldest child of Mr. Dillingham by his second wife, married Edward Cole, of Bronson.  They moved to Porter County, Indiana, in 1837, where they still remain, and, it is said, have accumulated a large property.Mr. Dillingham was a very stirring, active man, a great lover of handsome cattle – red and brindle being his favorite colors.  But he was a poor feeder and quite often lost much stock.  He was rather of a roving mind for one that married so young.  I once asked him how he came to quit a sailor’s life.  He said that his education was poor, that he could never rise above a common sailor, and that, he thought, was rather a low calling for him.He was rather quick and passionate, yet free-hearted in company and full of life.  From the days of President Jackson to the end of his life he was a rank Democrat.

---

[i] In the book “The Descendants of Thomas Olcott” Clarissa is said to have died May 13^th, 1809, in Manchester, Connecticut.  “The Descendants of Thomas Olcott,” by Goodwin, Nathaniel Case Tiffany; Burnham Press, Hartford, CT 1845.

Halloween Night on Newport Avenue

Last night, while Trick-or-Treating with my two eldest sons and granddaughter, I happened upon an older gentleman sitting in a plastic chair in front of the house where my father lived as a teenager.  The man was nice, but not terribly impressed with my story, however he let me take a picture from on the porch.  It was a haunting moment for me.

4306 Newport Avenue

Allen Family Dilemma

Sorry all for not posting in so long.  I am stumped by some of the DNA findings, and have been searching - so far in vain - for any information to solve some of the questions that have arisen.

The DNA tests have confirmed that we are descendants of the illustrious Allen - Lewis - Warner - Dozier families of Virginia, but there are some missing links, two to be exact.  I can trace the Allens back to Robert Scott Allen, my 2nd great grandfather, but the proven ancestry then skips back two generations.

In our family tree, I have established the two missing links, but have no documented proof other than other family trees (which also have no documented proof).

Here is the line of descent as I have it so far:

Teresa Zaun, b. 1954, Norfolk, full circle back to Virginia!
^
Virginia Crofford, b. 1932, Waukegan, Illinois
^
Teresa (nee Ethelyn) Allen, b. 1893, Illinois
^
Augustus Dozier Allen, b. 1859, Illinois
^
Robert Scott Allen, b. 1797, Lunenburg, Virginia (d. 1864 - Civil War?)
^
John Watson Allen**, b. ????, Lunenburg, Virginia
^
Turner Allen**, b. 1751, Lunenburg, Virginia
^
William Allen*, b. 1724, New Kent, Virginia - m. Mary Lewis, daughter of Col. Charles Lewis of The Byrd of Goochland County, whose mother was Elizabeth Warner of Gloucester, and whose father was John Lewis, both of whom are buried at Warner Hall.
^
Robert Allen, Jr.*, b. 1704, New Kent, Virginia
^
Robert Allen, Sr., b. 1680, New Kent, Virginia (records in St. Peter's Church registry)

                                                *proven by DNA **no documented proof

Here is the reasoning behind my conclusions about the two ancestors in doubt:

I believe that John Watson Allen is correct because he was married to Rebekah Scott, whose mother was a Dozier.  The Scott and Dozier links were confirmed by DNA and the names were carried on in the next generations.  I do not know where the Watson name came from and I'm not 100% sure that was his middle name.

I believe that Turner Allen is correct because he is the only son of William who stayed in Lunenburg County, Virginia, where Robert Scott Allen was eventually born.  I know that Turner had a son named John, but that name was pretty common in the Allen family. Sorting them all out is a challenge!

So, there you have it.  I believe I am correct, but as far a proof goes, I am stuck.  I may have to start using other resources than those that can be found online.

Flesh and blood

As I record the facts and details of my ancestors' lives, I can't help but think about how these long-gone individuals were loved and remembered in their lifetimes by their children and grandchildren.  They were real, living, breathing, thinking, feeling people who passed their DNA - and their character - to me through succeeding generations.

I had the great fortune to know my father's grandparents and to be close to a large extended family of aunts, uncles, and cousins.  My father's family were/are born storytellers... family gatherings tend to be filled with laughter as we repeat stories of our most eccentric or wayward family members.  As a child, I loved them all and thought of all of these characters quite fondly.  It wasn't until I was older that I was aware of the darker side of some of these stories.

I would like to leave a sense of certain ones for posterity, in no particular order...

Jacqueline Delmar Abbott Zaun (paternal grandmother)
My Mamaw....  She clung to family, her lifeline.  She loved her Richmond family and stayed close to them to the end, even though she lived all her adult life in Virginia Beach near her children and grandchildren.  She was lots of fun to be around, and had no trouble relating to her grandchildren and their friends.  She was close to her great-grandchildren as well.  She was the classic redhead, a little spitfire, spunky, sassy, and a flirt with men of all ages... but she was always classy. She kept up her appearance faithfully.  She got up early every single morning, made her bed, dressed up, donned her stockings and jewelry, and was ready for whatever the day would bring.  She had a simple life, with few material possessions, but elegant taste in decor and furnishings.  She read voraciously, and that was the way that she became educated - her formal education only went through the 9th grade.  After her husband Ernie died tragically at the age of 47, she went to work at the lingerie counter at Ames & Brownley Department store.  She had some troubles with suitors in pursuit of her husband's insurance money.  My father had to throw one fellow out of the house by the scruff of his neck.  She eventually became an alcoholic and caused a lot of trouble for her adult children.  At her lowest point, she decided to turn that around.  She gave up drinking, and never went back to it. But she never got over Ernie's death.  They had adored each other, and she never remarried.  She lived with her daughter in a converted attic apartment for a time, and then moved to The Mayflower apartments at the Virginia Beach oceanfront. She was a library assistant, a fixture at the front desk of the 22nd Street Library for 19 years. She was an avid game player, especially Bingo and Scrabble.  I visited her at least weekly to play Scrabble or take a stroll on the Boardwalk. We have many stories about her - like the time she pulled up her shirt at the Thanksgiving dinner table, her ruthless Scrabble playing (I don't have much - I'll just play this "itty bitty" word - and it would be like 77 points), and the "damn dishes" (She was a shameless Indian-giver).  She adored her son Bev - he could do no wrong - but was more demanding and critical of her daughter, Gail. When Bev died, she followed six months later....died in her sleep at age 87, looking beautiful and peaceful after a lifetime of drinking, smoking, and general naughtiness.  Sure she was flawed, but there are many ways I want to be like her.

Ernie and Jack Zaun off to a New Year's Party

Horace Calvin Crofford (maternal grandfather)
Baba (pronounced buh-bah)... he was a big man, but there could be no gentler soul.  He deeply loved his family and was devoted to his wife, Teresa.  They were never financially affluent, but their needs were few.  I remember walking hand in hand with him around the block at their 35th Street home in Norfolk, ending up at the corner drugstore to get a nickel ice cream cone. He always had Lifesavers for me in church. He loved to talk about his younger days in the Black Hills of Wyoming.  He tapped his feet as he sang songs of The Old West, and played his mouth harp or harmonica.  He loved maps - he had a drawer full of fold-up maps which he would pull out and talk about the places in the stories he told.  He loved rocks and fossils - he told about Barnum Brown, the famous paleontologist who discovered T-Rex bones on or near his father's ranch.  He especially loved to talk about horses (as I wrote about in a previous post).  He once brought me a rusty bridle bit that he found on one of his trips to see his Wyoming family.  (My dad sanded and spray painted it silver and I still treasure it). I remember him having a jar of "hoarhound" candy on the sideboard which I thought was the most disgusting flavor on earth. After Teresa died, he moved in with our family for a time, sleeping on a fold out bed in our family room. He moved to a dingy apartment in Ingleside where he lived only a brief time before he died in his sleep of a heart attack.

Baba and Me

Herman Lukhard (paternal great-uncle)
Uncle Herman was not related to me by blood, but he was a powerful and influential man, truly a figurehead in every sense of the word. He has been gone for years, but his influence in the family remains. He was a Character with a capital C! I especially see glimpses of him in my cousin David now and then. I wrote about him in a previous post, but will include some personal memories of him here.  I remember him as a highly energetic, driven man, with a quick wit and ability to see humor in most any situation.  We'd do almost anything to make him laugh, but we feared his ire. He was controlling and impatient. If things didn't go the way he thought they should, everyone was sorry. We'd say we're sorry, and he would agree, "yes, you're the sorriest thing I ever saw!"  One time, when I was sixteen, my cousins and I wanted to go to 7-11 (by miles of narrow, winding country road) in a car that he bought for his daughter Teeny.  We trudged across the wide field up to the main house to ask Uncle Herman's permission for me to drive the car.  He made us go all the way back to get my driver's license and show it to him. Once, Robin and I rode with him ahead of everyone else to the "rivah" house. She and I were shooting pool in the sunroom and listening to my new Ray Stevens album (Everything is Beautiful), while he was busy in the kitchen, running in and out of the house getting stuff from the car.  Robin and I heard what sounded like a waterfall. Curious, we went to the kitchen and found it flooded, with an waterfall gushing down the stairs into the garage.  Uncle Herman had put a mess of green beans in the sink, turned the water on to rinse them, and forgot about it. When he saw the flood, it was not a pretty scene.  We helped him clean it up without talking much. A short time later, we heard the sound again.  We ran to the kitchen and it was flooded again! This time, he had put frozen chicken in the sink to thaw. The water was still running and flowed down the steps into the garage.  This time, we were frantic to clean it up before he came back in, but it wasn't easy as we were doubled over with laughter. We told Aunt Miriam about it later, but he was not amused. Robin knew, but I didn't know, that Herman had a problem with alcohol and things like that happened with him.  There were those moments, but he was a beloved Adult Class Sunday School teacher for many years.  I remember visiting his class at the church in Richmond when I was in college, and I thought he was such a commanding presence in front of that large class. People were in awe of him and entertained by his humor. In the midst of a heated discussion, I raised my hand timidly- he ordered everyone else to be quiet and "let the youth speak!" Most of all Uncle Herman loved the land, owning homes and property all over the state.  He loved boats - at the "rivah" house, he had a yacht, a pontoon boat, and several row boats. Boat rides out on the Potomac and the Rappahannock are some of my fondest memories from childhood. Uncle Herman had a running battle with his horse, a huge pinto Tennessee Walker named Champ. Champ was as controlling and stubborn as his owner and they just rubbed each other the wrong way. Uncle Herman never went into the barn without a broom to fend off attacks and we could hear him yelling from a distance. Things were NEVER dull around Uncle Herman, that's for sure.

Teeny, Herman, and Miriam on a visit to Va. Beach

George Wright Abbott (paternal great-grandfather)
Gramp... he died when I was only five, but I do have an impression of a man who was unconditionally loving and maybe a little frumpy (?).  He was adored by his three daughters, and they were devastated when he died.  I think my dad would have been a lot like him if he had lived longer.

Ar Newport Avenue in Norfolk for Gail's wedding

Teresa Allen Crofford (maternal grandmother)
Nanno... she died of breast cancer when I was only 12.  I remember her as an endlessly patient grandmother, playing dominoes with me on a card table in her living room, and even playing "pretend" with a set of plastic horses and cowboys.  She always had a fresh-baked lemon pound cake on a small table at the entrance to her kitchen. She also always had a jar of lemon drop candy. She would make the most amazing cinnamon and butter toast for breakfast. Her home and her clothes had a distinct smell, which lingers clearly in my memory to this day.  I would spend the night with her, along with my cousin Ronney, or my sister and cousin Cindy would spend the night with her. For safety, because of the steep wooden stairs, she would lock our bedroom door from the outside at night, but she would leave two jars on the windowsill, one for drinking and one for peeing. We always feared we would mix them up. I spent a lot of time in church with her, at Tidewater Central Church of the Nazarene.  She was a respected Bible teacher and compassionate "do-gooder." During church services, she would get caught up in the spirit and cry out, waving her hands in the air and sometimes running up the aisle. That was just normal to me. I remember her cleaning up my plate after a steak dinner, eating all the fat that I cut off my meat.  I remember her saving aluminum foil to use again, and saving bread bags. She wasted nothing.  The Depression did that to people.

Anniversary party at 37th Street in Norfolk.
The doorjamb visible behind her in the picture is the one
where our height was marked every year.

 Helen Shelton (paternal great aunt)
"Aunt" Helen... she was my father's aunt, but the relationship has proven to be complicated from what I have learned in my research.  She stayed with my dad's family in their tiny apartment in Norfolk as a teenager due to an unhappy home life (i.e. stepmother), sharing a bed with my dad who was still a young child. She and my dad remained very close. After Helen married, she lived in Richmond with her beloved "Dickie" but visited us often.  She was beautiful inside and out. She resembled Elizabeth Taylor in looks, exuding sweetness, humility, and love.  I remember her with much affection.  It was quite a shock to find out that her father Earl was born 3 years before his (supposed) father married his mother. As I said, it's complicated.

I am sitting on Aunt Helen's lap at the house on Witchduck Road
with Mamaw and my dad.

John Adam Zaun (paternal great grandfather)
Poppoo.... my oldest son is his namesake.  We made the pilgrimage to Richmond a couple of times a year to visit my great grandparents in their tiny house on Penick Road (see previous post "Our Women"). He died when I was 15, so I did not have a deep relationship with him, but I remember him fondly.  He was always sitting in his big easy chair puffing on his pipe, his gnarled fingers caressing the wooden lid of his tobacco jar.  I loved the smell, and I absolutely cherish the possession of his tobacco jar with the worn-smooth lid and the smaller jar for his matches.  It still smells of his tobacco.

In the yard at Penick Road.

Ernest Earl Zaun (paternal grandfather)
Pampaw.  This man is remembered as a wonderful man by everyone who knew him.  He died of complications from a botched gall bladder surgery at age 47 - I was only 4 1/2.  But I have distinct memories of him.  I recall sitting in his lap in the big green recliner in the den of his Witchduck Road house.  He would put a bandage on one finger of each hand and do the "Fly Away Jack, Fly Away Jill" trick that would have me completely mystified.  I remember walking around the yard holding his hand as he explained about every plant and tree in the yard.  He was one who told me that crabapples were not actually good to eat.  I can almost hear his words in my head.  I recall clearly the brand of peanut butter I had at their house when I was little, and I remember the flavor of their toothpaste. The sheets that are on my bed right now remind me of the pattern of his pajamas - it's the reason I bought them. Strong associations! I remember him telling me a story about tying a string to his big toe while he slept so that he could rock my father's cradle without getting up.  He was a football coach and Boy Scout leader to countless boys - now old men who still talk about him reverently. He was a bookkeeper at Dalton and Bundy Lumberyard in Norfolk.  I still have his leather covered measuring tape.  I have never heard a negative word spoken about him.

Mom sitting in Pampaw's recliner in the den at Witchduck Road.

Georgia Powell Zaun  (paternal great grandmother)
Nannie... I have already written quite a bit about her so I will be brief here.  She is the one who got me started on my family tree.  From her bed, she told me everything about her family that she could remember and I wrote it all down.  I was barely in my teens!  So happy I did that.  She was a quiet, but loving person.  I know her best through the letters she wrote to me and to my dad when he was little.

This is probably not a finished post.... check back later! And to repeat myself, I covet your comments on any of these posts.  If you have a story to add to what I have written, please share it in the comments below!