Coffee heat rising

The Genealogy Jamboree

In an idle moment, I happened to google the name of some long-dead relative, and lo! up came a bunch of interesting stuff, not just dry government documents but newspaper articles and obituaries written by surviving loved ones. Genealogical records tend to suck you in. Like history (of which, I suppose, genealogy is a branch), the stories of the dead can be hypnotic.

Fooling around, I had the idea of creating a table that would compare the family lore about people on my mother’s side with what appear to be the facts, as reflected in public records. And…whoa! This is when you begin to realize how curious are some of the things your relatives have said.

My father never talked about his family, most of whom he was alienated from or just didn’t care about. But my mother’s stories…oh, my!

Gree, presumably in her younger days

One particularly memorable legend has it that my great-grandmother, familiarly known as “Gree,” was brought up by Mary Baker Eddy after her own parents died. This is why Gree was a staunch Christian Scientist right up to her dying day, at the (very active!) age of 94.

Think of that. She and her daughter both lived to 94, and they never saw a doctor in their lives. The evening before she died (of heart failure), she entertained a dozen people for Christmas dinner in her dining room.

Well, anyway: Mary Baker Eddy as stepmother. Right?

Start to look into it, and you find exactly zero evidence that Gree ever came anywhere near Mary Baker Eddy during her childhood. Eddy lived in New England: mostly in Massachusetts. Gree was born in Battle Creek, Michigan, and as far as I can tell, lived most of her younger years in Michigan and Illinois. She married in the Midwest, and she and her husband moved to California after they were well into adulthood.

It is true that Gree’s mother died when Gree was three years old. However, the father lived another ten years. That would have left Gree unparented at the age of 13…but again, there is exactly zero evidence that she was ever sent East. And as far as I can tell, Mary Baker Eddy never inhabited either Michigan or Illinois. 😀

My mother believed that Gree and her widowed, never remarried daughter Gertrude were prominent in the Christian Science movement at the start of the 20th century. She said they used to contribute frequently to the Christian Science Monitor.

Okay. Yes. The Christian Science Monitor was founded in 1908. So…yeah. Could be.

Look into it, though, and you find their sole surviving squib in any CS publication was a testimonial to the miracles of Christian Science in The Christian Science Sentinel, which appears to have been a kind of propaganda bullhorn whose nature was akin to a newsletter.

None of this means they didn’t know Mary Baker Eddy personally. Surely one or both of them could have. But evidently my great-grandmother never spent any time as Eddy’s stepchild. Unless…she was sent east on an orphan train (at the age of 13? In the 1800s, when she would have been considered old enough to earn a living?) and nabbed as a free servant by Eddy. But there’s no word of this either in fact or in family lore. Besides, the orphan trains went in the other direction: from East Coast cities into the hinterlands.

Interestingly, in this testimonial Gertrude remarks that she survived typhoid(!) and appendicitis grâce à the miraculous qualities of Christian Science. She also remarks that her brother went to France during World War I.

Then we have the story of Gertrude’s brother, my uncle Albert, who designed the Morrison Planetarium at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. We’re told that Al wanted to go to college but that his father refused to let that happen, saying no one needed a college diploma to earn a living. This, in the backlit haze of family lore, made Al’s accomplishments as an engineer and designer all the more astonishing.

Well. No. Mucking about on the Internet, what DO I come across but an article in an antique university newsletter indicating that at the age of 23 he was a junior at the University of Illinois, Champaign — majoring in civil engineering.

He was born in 1892. So if he was a junior in 1915, then he would have been a little old for an undergraduate. This could indicate that he didn’t start college until a year or two after he left high school. Or that he was working his own way through and so had to take a lighter than normal course load. Assuming he was able to carry a regular schedule of classes, though, he would have graduated in 1916. The U.S. entered World War II in April, 1917, and so it’s possible that he might have dropped out of college to volunteer for the war. But it’s just as possible that he finished his course of studies before joining up.

Whatever: this bit of intelligence gives the lie to the tale that he was entirely self-educated.

Amusing, isn’t it?

I have a cousin in California who converted to Mormonism shortly after he reached adulthood. He compiled a large genealogical record, we’re told, which in the first place would be lodged here in town at the Temple (and I do have Mormon friends who could get me in there) or which, in the second place, he may have information about. His sister, who lives in Fountain Hills, has completely alienated herself from me, for reasons unknown. Apparently I said something to offend her — what, I can’t imagine. My father had plenty to say about her conversion to Roman Catholicism, some of it extremely nasty — he was a bigot who operated in the highest stratosphere of bigotry, and if he made any of his remarks to her (God help us!), she no doubt thinks I’m just as stupid and vicious as he was. It remains to be seen if she passed this opinion along to her brother.

One would assume she did. But I figure it can’t hurt to try to get in touch with him. He can’t hit me over the Internet.

 

Day Care, Mom’s Vacation, and the Incredible Lightness of America’s Child Rearing Theories

I was over at Grumpy Rumblings this morning, where I came across nicoleandmaggie’s latest Deliberately Controversial Post. They ask if it’s right (or not) to keep on dropping your kids at day care when you’re on vacation, at one point citing the example of a child who realizes what’s up and is unhappy because he doesn’t get a vacation from the institution where he’s being warehoused.

Naturally this elicits a great string of commentary, much of it pretty entertaining and much of it pretty interesting. Several women remarked that since they’re paying for day care five days a week, they’re most certainly going to use it. Others snorted at the idea that the brats will be scarred for life if they’re left in a day care center for a few more days, willy-nilly.

Grumpy Rumblings has that WordPress comment function that forces you to sign in to enter a comment. I don’t wish to comment as English 235 PVCC, but I would like to add a little rant to the conversation. As follows:

Well. You are paying for it. Good reason to make your kid miserable, hm?

Seriously, IMHO it depends on your child and her attitude toward being institutionalized five days a week. Some kids love it. Some don’t. My son was utterly miserable and sick all the time in what was said to be the best day care center in the city. Fortunately for him, I happened to walk in the door just as he was climbing onto a makeshift table cobbled together by balancing an old door across the backs of two plastic kiddie chairs — he and the door tumbled down on top of a little girl before I could reach him. We left and never returned; I took him back to his old sitters in the neighborhood, which cost more but was sure as He!! worth it. He soon threw off the chronic infections he’d had since I enrolled him in the place, and his whole attitude changed. For the better.

And yes, when I was not physically at work, I did leave him with those women, each of whom watched two to four kids in her home — it allowed me to get a lot done and to unwind from the demanding and sometimes unpleasant job of mothering as well as from my paid work.

IMHO we too often fail to put ourselves in our children’s shoes; videlicet the idea [alluded to in nicoleandmaggie’s post] that you should tell kids how they’re feeling. How would you like some patronizing fool to tell you what’s going on in your head? Similarly, how would you like to be locked up in a day-care center, coming home sick with every bug in circulation, so that you’re literally never feeling well? If your child isn’t bothered by this, by all means leave the kid there when you’re on vacation — you work hard and you do deserve a break. But if she is bothered by it, maybe she’s trying to tell you something.

But then…we often fail to put ourselves in anyone else’s shoes, eh? It’s part of the human condition.

What do you think of this conundrum? Go on over to Grumpy Rumblings and add to the fray! 🙂

Kids & Costs: Another point of view

Guest Post by Frugal Scholar

Since I took issue with Funny’s** premise—that having children is intrinsically and unavoidably expensive—and since I promised to write something for her, here is a short version of what I would say to prospective parents.  First of all, I’ve read Elizabeth Warren’s books and articles. She is truly a voice for the American middle-class. I love her. In one of her books, The Two-Income Trap,  she avers that American middle class folks are in a bind: they MUST buy houses in neighborhoods with good school districts. These houses are pricy and come with high property taxes. Hence, both parents must work. Hence if one parent loses his or her job: disaster! This book, by the way, was written before the bursting of the housing bubble, or, as Funny (or I) would put it, the Bush Economy. [uh-oh! Evan, hang onto your hat! 😉)

When I read Warren’s book, a library copy as befits a frugal type like myself, I found myself saying NO. It doesn’t have to be that way. I feel there is always a choice.

Before I moved into the pricey neighborhood, I would check out the schooling in less desirable areas. Often, the schools are better than one would think. Or there are enrichment programs. I am skeptical of school rankings, incidentally, since they seem to correlate with the wealth and education of the parents. So that is what you get in the “better” school districts.

If the schools are really unacceptable, I would consider homeschooling. Why not? The money you save by living in a cheaper house could obviate the need for one parent to work. I would hate to do this myself, but there are many passionate homeschoolers.

If you decide you MUST live in the great neighborhood, why not rent an apartment or buy a too-small house? As anyone with kids in college knows, the years fly by. A little discomfort in the service of a greater good is a fine lesson to be teaching your children.

As a person who is hardwired for frugality, I run through similar processes for almost every decision I make, from the trivial (which tomato sauce?) to the momentous (which college?). As a general rule, I run a value-test on everything: with two choices, test the cheaper one first. That is why my son did soccer locally and didn’t go for the expensive and time-consuming traveling team. Why? He wasn’t that interested or good. That is why my daughter took a very basic ballet class at the local YMCA rather than at the upscale studio. Why? Ditto. Yet when it came to the summer, we opted for an expensive sleep away camp for both. Why? Because as members of a minority religion, we felt it was important for the children to get a sense of their culture.

I hardly need to say that other families will make different decisions, owing to the different talents and interests of the kids. I also happen to believe that most children are over-scheduled these days. That belief fits into my  general laziness.

My happy memories are of trips to the Children’s Museum, Aquarium, and Audubon Zoo—we were members of all and went a lot. Doing art together (I splurged on top-quality materials). Cooking together. Taking walks. Reading. Going to FREE concerts. We spent a lot on trips to faraway grandparents. And, through the years, I kept waiting for my children to get expensive.

**OOPS—just noticed that the post to which I took issue is a GUEST POST. I don’t know what Funny thinks.

(LOL! Funny thinks kids cost even more than pets. And that’s a lot!)

Don’t miss these great posts from Frugal Scholar:

Paula Begoun’s Skincare Recommendations: Anti-aging et al
Kitchen Remodel on a Budget: Beginnings
The Parental Safety Net

Chilly Christmas Night

Temperatures are supposed to drop into the 20s tonight, after a cold and blustery day. Plants are covered, as best as they can be covered while the wind fights to carry the old sheets and drapes to California. The big old-fashioned environmentally obtuse Christmas lights festooning the lime tree are turned on, in hopes of sparing the tree’s canopy this winter. And under the bedcovers, the heating pad is tucked where my feet go and turned to Day-Glo Blast.

Indoors, though, it was a nice warm Christmas. M’hijito was thrilled with the KitchenAid stand mixer and not bothered at all that it had gathered dust in my hall closet for several years. So I felt good to have found something to share with him that pleased him so much . . . and decluttered my life handsomely, too.

M’hijito was also pleased to announce he has succeeded in paying off all the credit card debt that accrued between the time he started his Arizona job (at much less than he earned in San Francisco) and his latest raise, which puts him back in the middle class. He now intends to snowflake down the remaining credit union loan that covered his costs during the year of unemployment after the dot-com bubble burst. Since he’s been paying that down steadily anyway, he should soon be debt-free (mortgage excepted). My son, the chip off the old frugal block!

Meanwhile, unless something’s totally awry, it looks like my scheme to deal with biweekly pay by setting up a weekly spending budget is working. Just paid the AMEX bill and found $399 left in the credit-card piggy bank, plus around $150 in the account devoted to recurring monthly bills.

Hot diggety! This means I’ll have a couple hundred bucks to spend on some decent office clothes at the sales tomorrow and still have two or three hundred dollah to apply to the Renovation Loan principal. Dance to spring!

Tomorrow: How to pay monthly bills on biweekly pay.