It all started with a Prince

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...

  Through years of researching my family history, one figure has haunted me more than any other: young Kate O'Brien. Her story has stayed with me, compelling me again and again to search the past and give voice to a life nearly lost to time. Catherine "Kate" O'Brien was born March 8, 1852, in Boston, Massachusetts. She was the daughter of Thomas and Katherine (Connors) O'Brien. Both of her parents were born in Ireland and were new immigrants to America.  Kate along with her sister Mariah and their parents lived in Hudson, Lenawee County, Michigan at the time of Kate's marriage to James Dennis Sheridan on May 25, 1874. James was a clerk in his half-brother Michael's general store in downtown Brooklyn, Michigan. James D Sheridan and Catherine O'Brien Michigan, U.S., Marriage Records, 1867-1952 James Sheridan was the half-brother to our 2x great grandfather Patrick Sheridan. A twist to the family story is that Kate's sister Mariah was married to our P...

Distinguishing between two men named James Harris and researching the correct ancestral line has proven to be a bit of a challenge. The possibilities are endless. I have gone searching for a Revolutionary War connection and my Harris line is a probable association based on location and dates/ages. Back in my early research days, when sources weren't as readily available, I researched this Harris family line: Pauline Prince Sheridan>Lillian Harris Prince>Ebenezer Harris>Eseck Harris>James Harris> Ebenezer Harris> Asa Harris>Asaph Harris I collaborated with my mom's cousin Suzanne via snail-mail back in the late 1990's, and I accepted a lot of what she sent, although over the years I have documented sources for much of what she shared and what I already had. In 2001, I corresponded with another researcher from the same line and he had: Pauline Prince Sheridan>Lillian Harris Prince>Ebenezer Harris>Eseck Harris>James Harris....but then he had:  ...

  Growing up in a large family (five daughters and Mom and Dad), we filled every spot at the dining room table. Right down to the youngest in a highchair placed at the corner next to Mom. You learned to eat what was served, say please and thank you and always asked to be excused when you were finished. And don't forget to take your empty plate to the kitchen to be scraped and where you and your sisters would wash and dry it when everyone was finished. When I got up in the morning, I would find my mom sitting at her place at the table with a cup of black coffee and often a cigarette smoking in a square turquoise colored ashtray. She always smiled; made you feel like you were the most important person at that point in time.  During the day it was a gathering place. Aunt Aggie would come for lunch while working at the local A&P grocery. There would be no knowing she was coming, she would just pull up out front and mom would find something to eat.  When friends came to ca...