So How DID I End Up Here?

[897tgigvib]

All y'all have so many generations in one place, you luckies.

My mother's parents were both originally from where they thought was Kentucky, but mom and I recalculated was actually West Virginia by a few miles. Her father's family ran an undergroud railroad taking runaway slaves to their own little town in Canada. Her father's father was the only survivor of that, as one time returning the place was still smoldering, his brothers still smoldering too, hung by chains and burned. So he was back and forth to Canada. Mom's father was born in Canada. Mom's mother was born in Appalachia, a proud cigar smoking woman. They moved to Clearwater Minnesota, where mom and her siblings were born and raised.

Dad's side of the family was from far removed of each other. Dad's father was born and raised in County Cavan Ireland, was a native Gaelic Irish speaker, and learned English onboard the slow ship to Ellis Island. His father was also onboard but died enroute, buried at sea. That was 1897. Dad's father was a gentle giant of a scots-irish and irish man, over 6'7", and heavy built. He was practically told to be a policeman in New York, did that a few months, then headed west, stopping in Chicago where they made him a policeman there too. I believe my nephew has the old original photo of his police squad. He kind of stands out in it. His size makes the other men look like kids. But, he continued west after less than a year. He wanted a sheep farm. That was what he was raised to be. A shepherd. In Minnesota he met my grandmother, who would become dad's mother. She was visiting her father, who was a Union civil war veteran, still living with his wounds. (No, Chamberlain was not the last civil war veteran to die from his wounds. My great grandfather died from his wounds in 1924, 10 years later than the most honorable Chamberlain.) Grandmother already had 3 children whose father was a reporter who left for some assignment and never did return, and was considered dead or hopelessly lost. They fell in love, and my grandfather cared for her children as his own. They moved to near Dillon Montana, where my grandfather worked as a shepherd, grew in importance with the Scottish Rite Masons. One time as there were problems with the SHEEPMEN and the CATTLEMEN brewing, my grandfather sent out notice to all the ranches far and wide in Beaverhead, Madison, and other counties to have a meeting at the masonic lodge. He had a proposal that would solve the disputes.

First thing he did was allow the women into that meeting "By special dispensation, due to the acute importance". It was then observed that MOST of the Sheepmen were actually the wives and daughters of the Cattlemen.

So my grandfather proposed the way to run sheep through the rangeland should be different than the way they'd been doing it, and that it would work, but would have to be done right.

Sheep were not to be kept at a single place to graze for more than 3 days at a time. This way, they would mow the grasses, but not kill the grasses.

Then, the cattle would not be in that area until 2 weeks after the next rain. It rains in summer in the hills of Montana. The grasses will have recovered, and not overly much alfalfa need be brought up.

While in range, Alfalfa should be grown in the valleys at the ranches.

So, my grandfather made peace and helped both the cattle and wool businesses in the area, and my grandfather was made 32nd degree Scottish Rite Mason. 2nd highest.

Soon, my grandfather purchased his own ranch, just the dillon side of Beaverhead Point of Rocks. He prospered pretty well, dad was born, and he purchased 2 more large ranches nearby. But when dad's 12th birthday was coming, a big ice storm hit. This was 1930. Neighbors came over asking my grandfather to help them get their truck unstuck. He went to the Robinson's place to help them do that. As he was pushing the vehicle out, he stood up, became pale, and fell dead.

Uncle Matt then took over operations, soon changing to cattle. My father got money set aside for college and university. Dad was already skipping grades. Dad went to high school in Twin Bridges, but he and his mother lived for a year in HOLLYWOOD where dad graduated high school ALSO. Lol! Two h.s. diplomas...

So dad did not get the ranches. He got his first masters degree in Mexico city during WWII because he was requested to. Trained to become a marine officer in Virginia, then the war ended and was released honorably. He met mom while he was teaching in Helena, married there, student taught in Twin Bridges, got another college degree in Albuquerque, then Idaho Falls for a couple years, then Sacramento hs, and then santa rosa. i left out a few of their other moves such as berkeley and stanford to pick up the teaching and administrative certificates for california...

So, every generation for the past over hundred years has been moves...

 

[TheSeedObsesser]

I think that you're a lucky, Marshall, you know a lot about your family history!

We've lived in Ohio as far back as I know. I have older relatives in the southeastern U.S., they went there to escape the cold. Other than that we've lived in Northern Ohio, right up by Lake Erie. And a year ago we moved down here, were it's much nicer!

I know we have ancestors from both of the first two major migrations, from Northern and Eastern Europe, and Russia.

According to Ma, one of our ancestors was, supposedly supposed to be next in line to be Czar. But then the current Czar was killed and unknown ancestor fled to America. (calling him that cause I forget if he was great, great or great x3 or something.)If I know my Russian history right, this was during the reign of the Romanovs, before the whole Bolshevik Revolution deal. The "czar system" would probably be some kind of monarchy, and you know how those work. The last Czar was Czar Nicholas. His whole family including the family dog was slaughtered as to not leave any heirs. So its a paradox of history I guess. We supposedly also have some German royalty somewhere in there. I can't remember many details, I should ask my parents before they forget, and wright it all down this time!

 

[Ridgerunner]

A lot of interesting stories.

The first of my line, Alexander, went from Dublin Ireland to London where he boarded the Abraham, captained by John Barker, in 1635. He landed in Virginia and started having kids. Alexander’s son Lazarus was elected to the House of Burgesses in 1692. The line hung around in Virginia and Maryland for a few generations but somebody eventually wound up in the ridges of East Tennessee. My great great grandfather was living there when he joined a Union regiment. He was mustered out after the Civil War was over so I know my line was living in East Tennessee then. My uncle still owns the farm my great great grandfather owned. His grandson, my first cousin once removed, will probably get it next but the last name on the deed will change.

My dad settled back in East Tennessee after his service in WWII. I was the one to leave that area after I graduated with an engineering degree. I was offered a job where one of the requirements was a willingness to travel in and out of the US. I took it. I was based in South Louisiana but got to work in Europe, Africa, and Asia. I even visited Brazil once.

When I retired, my wife and I worked up certain criteria to decide where to retire to. Northwest Arkansas met those pretty well, plus it’s a day’s drive or less to our parents and kids in Tennessee, Kansas, and Louisiana. The big reason we settled here is that it is centrally located to family.

SeedO definitely get this stuff written down. You don’t want to lose it.

 

[digitS']

I had to get off the tablet so that I could write a little more comfortably.

"Here" it is: My mother's family came to northern Idaho in 1896. This was my mother's grandfather and grandmother, their 3 children (1 more was born here), her grandfather's younger sister - and their mother & father. Yep, the old folks came. So this was my gg grandfather - the Civil War veteran who qualified for the homestead and got one nearest to town. That town was Kamiah.

The youngest daughter married a neighbor but stayed with the old folks until after their deaths. They are buried in that little town. Mom's grandfather and family had moved on by then - to Palouse. Palouse is another farming town nearby. Their home was a little different since Palouse is in Washington and they were close enough to walk to the Palouse store but their farm was in Idaho. Yes, they were right on the border.

My grandfather was Canadian and showed up to "work the harvest" and met my grandmother in Palouse. He spirited her off all the way to southern California! I think Grandpa was something of a sun worshiper. Three children were born in California but they were back living right next door to Grandma's parents when Mom was born. Actually, she was born in Lewiston, not all that far away, because Lewiston had a hospital. You see, the "Spanish flu" epidemic had swept through the region, and the entire US/Europe, the year before and they thought it best if Grandma had that child in a hospital.

The family moved south again soon after Mom was born - but only half way, this time. Mom grew up in southern Oregon. She followed her parents to southern California after they had raised nearly all of their 9 kids. They went off chasing that sunny weather again!

Laguna Beach, just outside of Los Angeles is where they thought they'd settle down to a retired life. Mom met Dad there. He was "kind of" in that Okie migration you can read about in The Grapes of Wrath. The difference was that altho' Dad was born in Oklahoma, his family moved to New Mexico before the Dust Bowl years. Things weren't wonderful in New Mexico but they weren't quite so bad as being in the middle of that drought!

Dad joined the military, Mom says - to impress her. I wonder how many opportunities he had for steady work during the Depression.

They married but the plans for the young family didn't work out so well. Dad was in town to find work after serving his "hitch" when Pearl Harbor was bombed and "All Military Personnel are Ordered to Return to Base!" Base for Dad was the Presidio of San Francisco but he was soon on a troop ship to the South Pacific.

We continued the migration north when he came home from the war. We were soon living with my widowed grandmother in the Sacramento Valley north of San Francisco. We then moved to the same southern Oregon town where Mom grew up - they were retracing her early life moving north! The final step was when they moved back to northern Idaho where Mom was born. My brother and I were both grown by that time but we ended up, tagging along.

Bro' lives just about 50 miles south of the Canadian border. He was about the last person I'd have expected to leave southern Oregon but he has been in the same country home for 35 years.

I've been around here in quite a few more places but never more than 20 miles from the ID/WA border - over 45 years, now.

My Canadian grandfather returned to Canada during the final years of his life and died in the little town of Hope. You see, a town named "Hope" isn't just to be found in Arkansas. This family's story is as old as the American dream. And, it didn't just begin here. However, there is a small town of Hope in Idaho. Just a little farther down the road that passes through Hope, is another community: Beyond Hope.

Steve

 

[so lucky]

I am the gypsy in my family. My family hasn't moved further than 5 miles from our original home. Mama and dad were from different parts of KS and MO. I am the one that has moved to different states, and 2 years in Cuba in the early 80's. Now I am living in SC. I love the MO Ozarks, but not the cold and snow.

Hey, Moxie, good to see you!

 

[so lucky]

Lots of interesting history, here. Yes, SeedO, make sure you get it all written down, before your parents start forgetting. Or maybe your parents would like to write it down, or record it. (do people still use tape recorders)
All these stories make my own inglorious ancestors appear poorer than dirt, in pocket and in spirit. My mom's family were gypsies, moving here and there with lumber camps. Dad's family were farmers. My grandma ran a puppy mill. :/My older brother was the first of any of either family to graduate from high school.
Not all of us come from noble stock, apparently!

 

[Ridgerunner]

One of the stories I like best is on my wife's side. She worked on here geneology and found one of her ancestors was an English ship's captain. She could not find his wife's name though. She was only known as "The Spanish Lady". How would you like to go down in history as "The Spanish Lady"? That's just so poetic, at least to me. Much better than having an actual name.

 

[so lucky]

Hey, I guess I could add: even though my side of the family were ne'er-do-wells, my DH's family were prosperous business owners, in our small town during the Civil War. They were well off enough to have slaves (not a bragging point, of course, just saying) Anyway, the Union army came to town and took over all his property. (Never got paid back, come to think of it!)

 

[thistlebloom]

All these stories make my own inglorious ancestors appear poorer than dirt, in pocket and in spirit. My mom's family were gypsies, moving here and there with lumber camps. Dad's family were farmers. My grandma ran a puppy mill. :/My older brother was the first of any of either family to graduate from high school.
Not all of us come from noble stock, apparently!

It doesn't matter what your lineage is, it's what you do with the life you own.

 

[peteyfoozer]

I was born in S Calif and lived most of my life within 100 miles of where I was born. Moved to N Oregon in my 20's to work in a feedlot, then back down home to the family ranch in Tehachapi for another 20 some years. We came back to Oregon almost 8 years ago, seeking a job. I always wanted to live on a bigger working ranch. This one is for sure bigger than anything I ever thought I'd see! It's been an answer to prayer here, but I do sure miss the kids who are still down in S Calif with the grandbabies!