It all started with a Prince

  As the sun was slowly lightening the morning sky, Pauline let herself into the storefront after inserting the large cumbersome key into the lock. The rustling of her skirts could be heard along with the chirping of birds in the trees. A horse neighed in the distance and a wagon rattled along the deserted street. The front window on the south side of the store was glistening in the early daylight. Pauline settled herself into the overstuffed chair located to catch those early rays and picked up a dainty green velveteen hat piece. She began slowly and steadily stitching the small piece of veiling just off side of center. After she finished this and added the green dyed marabou feather it would be placed on a wooden millinery stand in the window to show it off. Hopefully, it would also pull a few ladies in to check out her hats. She still had to finish black hats for Mrs. Baker and her daughter.  It was so sad that she lost Mr. Baker so unexpectedly. She was just waiting for th...

My maternal great-grandmother was Elizabeth (Holland) Sheridan. Elizabeth was the youngest child of Thomas and Mary (Shevlen) Holland both of which were Irish immigrants. She had an older sister Minerva and an older brother Thomas Holland, Jr. Her brother Thomas, Jr was born April 12, 1854, in Union, Cook County, Ohio.  By 1870 the family had moved from Ohio to Fulton, Gratiot County, Michigan where Thomas, Sr took up farming on 80 acres of land next door to the Patrick Sheridan family. (Now you know how our great-grandparents Michael and Elizabeth met) Thomas, Jr married Lillian Aurilla Fairchild at the young age of 19 on September 25, 1873, in Ithaca, Gratiot County, Michigan.  By the 1880 census they were living on a farm in Fulton and were the parents of four children: John, Charles, Minerva and George. The call for free land and open space must have caused them to want more for their young family. They sold their farm, packed up and followed along with others going West. ...

 My grandfather, Harry Edward 'Ed' Porter was born August 1, 1888, in Rochester Township, Cedar County, Iowa the oldest child of William and Carrie (Barnhart) Porter. I knew him fairly well as he lived until 1972 just a year after I graduated High School. Unfortunately, I never thought to ask him questions regarding his younger years and even his older years and his working history. Different stories abound - he was a carpenter, a laborer, a farmer, a cook, and the owner of a restaurant. A real jack of all trades.  He was raised in Iowa, married (twice) there and then after he married my grandmother Nellie Dillingham October 14, 1914, they moved to Flandreau, South Dakota where they owned a small restaurant and my dad was born. By 1920 they had moved back to Sioux City, Iowa where my dad and his siblings were raised. Well, they worked in a restaurant. I have never found proof that they owned it. Just the family stories. They lived above the restaurant and in the 1920 census he...

After a few long days flying Douglas DC-3 routes for North Central Airlines in the 1950s, Kenny found his way back to calm in a much smaller cockpit: the kitchen table.  The DC-3 demanded constant attention—radio calls crackling in, weather shifting without much warning, and the steady responsibility of carrying passengers safely through an era when flying still felt a little raw and unpredictable. By the time he parked the real aircraft for the day, his mind was often still running at cruise power, full of checklists, engine sounds, and invisible crosswinds. That’s where model airplanes came in. Building and flying them in his leisure time gave him a different kind of control—no passengers, no radios, just balsa wood, glue, and the satisfying logic of something he could shape with his own hands. He would sand wing ribs until they were smooth as bone, fit the fuselage together piece by piece, and let the familiar smell of dope (balsa lacquer) and Ambroid glue replace the noise o...

  Many years ago, my mom showed me Dad’s DD214 papers from his time in WWII.   I was excited to see it, had copies made and made sure the original was given back to her. I quickly added his list of battles and ribbons awarded to his genealogy profile. And then I moved on. Recently, I was looking for something else and veered off to look at his papers again. Down the rabbit hole I went. Just like any other family genealogist. Before, it was just dates and cities and countries. But I read that document differently that day. Suddenly, I could almost picture him in a tent, a rifle at hand, on alert constantly. Defending our country from the enemy. I could feel the heat, the sweat, the inner fear of the unknown. It made me want to know more about the timeline of him being in Australia. This isn’t a complete synopsis of his time in the South Pacific, just a small part of his story. Bill Porter - Australia Upon arrival in late December 1941, the 147th South Dakota Field Artillery...

 Heading into the fall of 1950, there was worry in the air in the town of Midland, Michigan. Polio had reared its ugly head across the country and now the dreaded virus was becoming prevalent in many towns across the state of Michigan. The virus did not discriminate. Young or old; rich or poor. Community pools were closed during the summer; extra-curricular activities were cancelled or postponed. Always on high alert. People were suddenly aware of symptoms of Polio. Fever, sore throat, sudden fatigue, loss of appetite, stiffness in arms and legs. A fussy baby suddenly became suspect. You hoped and prayed for it to be teething or just the common cold. Then if it spread into the second phase: neck or back stiffness, sensitivity to touch and muscle weakness meant it was time to head for the nearest hospital or doctor's office. My sister Mickie was born in 1948 and in late September of 1950 she became one of Midland's child victims of Polio. My mom told me that she had become irrit...