The Perfect Pedigree

 

Image courtesy of Among My Branches blog

No, I am not talking about any sort of aristocracy or purebred animal species.  I am talking about pedigrees as pertains to genealogy.  I know, I know...you're all getting sick of hearing about my ancestry adventures, but it's my blog so I can do what I want.  <<insert snarky smiley face>>

Several years ago I paid an obscene amount of money to build all of my and Captain's family trees.  The obscene cost allows unlimited entries onto the tree, and between the two of us, we have thousands of entries!  

I happily spent hours adding names and dates here, there, and everywhere.  However, I didn't pay a lot of attention to where the information was coming from.  Thus, I ended up with a lot of disinformation on my trees that I am now going back and trying to correct.

In adding all these names and dates, I have connected with heretofore unknown cousins across the United States which has been fun.  Last summer I invited as many of the Prokasky cousins as I could track down, and we had a fabulous afternoon of acquainting ourselves.  It was so much fun that we are going to do it again this year...bigger and better!  

After spending that lovely afternoon hearing stories from these newfound cousins, I realized that just having names and dates in my genealogy data wasn't enough.  It's like that poem about The Dash...what matters is what happens between the start date and the end date.  It dawned on me I had no DashData to record, and I decided I wanted to change that.  

In fact, I wanted to change it enough that I could write a family history book going back to my four-times great-grandfather, Henry Prokasky.  

I'm going to remind you all that I am neurodivergent with ADD, so when I have AN IDEA, I jump in feet first with no personal floatation device to keep me from sinking.  I'm talking whole-hog-investment of time and energy.  

Acknowledging the neurodivergent thing, I knew I needed to get organized about the data that I do have, so I ordered a genealogy research starter kit on Amazon.  Me...I love paper.  If I could fill out forms in triplicate all day long, I'd be happy.  Call me crazy.  

I was super excited this morning when I went to get yesterday's mail and the forms had arrived!  I opened them up and looked at the five different forms and immediately had an anxiety attack because it was too much organization at one time for my poor feeble brain.  

There is a 5-generation pedigree chart (hence the title of this post) that has in the header spaces to note the Surname being recorded, who it is compiled by, and the Chart No.  I understand the surname and researcher name fields, but that chart number thing is giving me fits.  How do I note that people in Chart No. 1 (my chart with spouse, children, and parents listed) are also listed in the charts of the preceding four generations?  Again, my feeble neurodivergent mind is curled up in the corner sobbing hysterically. 

Beyond figuring out what to put where on the forms, the next problem I am running into is that my writing is such that the information doesn't fit in the tiny little spaces allowed on these forms.  Sorry, Charlie, I have fairly large handwriting because I have been bat-blind since I was 5 years old and that's the only way I can see what the hey-hey I'm writing.  So I will have to ponder that and see what's to be done about it.  

That is all the easiest part of the genealogy research, actually.  Next comes online searches via Google, FindAGrave.com (which isn't as creepy as it sounds), FamilySearch, and the National Archives website.  Then I could branch out (see what I did there?) into local historical records found at the Olmsted County Historical Society, the Rochester Public Library, and the Minnesota History Center Research Library.  

If I wanted to get really I-N-T-O it all, I could go to state and national genealogy conferences, but that costs more than what I can possibly afford at this stage.  

Plus, all of the data that I would find in any of those places would be cold facts; nothing personal or heart-warming that would truly show the life of any person I might be researching.  

So you see my dilemma!

But still, the data is the foundation, and it needs to be correct and organized in a logical fashion for whatever final result you wish for.  

In my case, the final project will be a book detailing Henry and Margaret (Tomangh) Prokasky and their descendants through six generations to Cubby and Nugget (this is what Molly calls the baby bump).

Therefore, my plan is to leave what's out there on my public family tree site as it is.  On an interoperable web site, I will start the tree from scratch, paying much closer attention to who, what, when, where, why, and how.  I will write down what I do, when I do it, where I found it, and who it's about.  

It will be long journey, most likely years in the making, but it will be worth it when the final product is in my hands and I can share it with my family.  Luckily I find myself with more 'spare' time now that I am done with school, so what better what to spend that time than climbing the family tree?!

And guess what, pals of mine?  I'm going to drag you along on the ride!!  

Hugs, my friends!

Hiking Club Adventures

 When Captain and I stayed at the yurt in Afton State Park this winter, we spent quite a bit of time chatting with the ranger in the office when we were checking out.  I wandered around the little gift shop because I like to have a memento from each state park we stay in.  

This time I didn't purchase a memento but the Minnesota State Park Hiking Club log book and the Minnesota State Park Passport log book.   My theory was that the hiking club log book would provide me with dozens of trips with Cubby.  

The object of the hiking club is to get people out exploring the state parks and the incentive to do so is a find and record a password that is posted at about the halfway point of the dedicated hiking club trail. 

For our first foray into this adventure, I took Cubby with me back to Afton State Park because we needed to pick up the jacket that Captain left in the yurt when we stayed there.  Cubby wasn't thrilled with it being a 90-minute drive so I bribed her with the promise of lunch at McDonalds on the way there and a stop at Thelma's Treats in Afton on the way home.  

On the way to Afton, I really hyped up how much fun it was going to be to do a treasure hunt type search for the password, thinking there would be some sleuthing skill required.  When we discovered that the password is plastered in great big letters on a sign that says PASSWORD, it was a little anticlimactic.  Thus Cubby's crabby face.  

Still, I convinced her it was still a fun activity and we kept on hiking.  Lucky for me, we found  a stream she could play in for a good 15 minutes!

Of course, when we finished the hike and were heading home, I took her to Thelma's Treats in Afton--the oldest ice cream shop in Minnesota!  She had a cherry shake and I had a salted caramel ice cream cone...both were scrumpdillyicious, to borrow a word from a competing ice cream franchise.  

Fast forward several weeks and we had our second adventure to Carley State Park in Plainview.  We were a little early for the bluebells, although we did see a couple of tiny ones.  Cubby found a teepee type structure that fascinated her, but her biggest enjoyment were the concrete blocks that needed to be traversed to cross the stream.  

Me...not so much.  The first set of concrete "stepping stones" wasn't bad but the second set had a 3-foot gap between the bank and the first block.  Of course little Miss Nimble On Her Feet skipped right across and then looked back at her grandma.  

"C'mon Grandma, just step quick on the rock, the log, and then the block."  Uh-huh, sure.  Listen, child of my child, my center of gravity is WAY different than yours so just let me do this myself.  Yeah...it took me a good 60 seconds to accomplish what she did in a nanosecond.  But I did it!

And then...

From the last block to the other bank there is, again, a 3-foot span of water but this time there are no handy objects to step on to get from here to there.  Nope, I was going to have to launch myself and hope like heck I didn't face plant in the mud.  

I even had my own little cheerleader for this as I was sort of bouncing to really spring through the air.  Just as I was crouched and ready to leap, there was a voice behind me from a group of people I had no idea were there.  Ermagerd....I flailed around mid leap and landed back on the block facing back at a woman and two men.  The poor women who had spoke and robbed me of the last two years of my life looked as shocked as I felt and was apologizing up and down.  

The guy behind her?  Hmmmmm...he was laughing so hard I thought he was going to wet himself.

So was Cubby, for that matter.  

With wounded pride and all, I managed to jump across far enough to (1) stay out of the stream and (2) not face plant in the mud.  All good things in my world.  

After THAT ordeal, the last leg of the hike was a set of steps that looked pretty daunting, but we powered through it and made it back to the van in one piece.  

Next up in the Hiking Club adventure I believe will be Big Woods State Park in Nerstrand!  

Parental Validation

 

Image courtesy of Pinterest

You've all read (or should have by now) my stories of parenting wherein Captain and I diverge on philosophies.  Captain is of the "everything is a crisis" school of thought while I am of the "choose your battles" camp.  Captain tended to yell about everything.  I only yelled occasionally.  

But when I did...you can fill in the blank here.  

You know that old saying, "her bark is worse than her bite"?  Yeah, my description is more like "you won't hear the bark until she has chewed your face off."  

Stay with me here because I'm not trying to build myself up as a World Class Beeyatch.  I'm trying to illustrate that a child's healthy respect of an adult has to have just a tiny drop of fear in it.  

The reason I bring this up is because I got the sincerest validation of my parenting choices recently.  Have any of you ever had one of those "Lord, I did something right as a parent" moments when your adult children are talking?  Usually it's because your young adult son took time to help a stranger load something heavy into her car at Fleet Farm or whatever.  You get what I mean.  A warm fuzzy moment.  I've had those, and it's an amazing feeling.  

Recently, however, I had one of a different flavor, but it was just as satisfying. 

I'm going to paraphrase and take some artistic license with the details to protect the innocent here, but the crux of it is that we were recently at a gathering that included many of Bigger's classmates.  They are all in the early 30s now and parents themselves.  

I'm not certain how the conversation got started; probably one classmate started talking about stupid stuff they'd done as teenagers and whether or not they (1) got caught and (2) got in trouble.  One classmate asked the group which of their friends' mom they were most afraid of. 

I had three fingers pointed right at me.  

Huhn?  

The follow-up question, obviously, was "Why" and the unanimous answer was, "Because she didn't flip out about everything, but when she did, she followed through on a consequence."  

It stands out as one of the proudest moments of my life.  Again, I don't want to be known as the Class A Beeyatch, but being known as fair but fierce is okay in my book.  

On the same note, I saw a Facebook reel this morning which actually prompted this post.  It was a male comedian talking about parenting and yelling.  He said you can't just yell at your kids all the time because they will eventually tune that particular frequency out and, in his words, all they hear is a Yamaha dirt bike in the distance.  For my fellow Gen Xers, that means you'd sound like Charlie Brown's teacher.  

Anyway, he said that as a parent, you have to have two discipline voices.  One is the generic yell akin to a Yamaha dirt bike.  But then you have to have what I call the Come To Jesus voice.  My kids--and apparently their friends--know this voice of mine.  

I have a big voice, so my standard discipline voice generally covers a radius of a half mile.  Everybody in the neighborhood knows my kids are in trouble.  That's the voice to use when someone didn't finish their chores.  

The Come To Jesus voice is a full two octaves lower than that, is soft, and it's deadly.  And usually has fewer words.  This voice is what comes out when the child pulled out the old nugget about being old enough to do what he/she wants (i.e. stay out to the wee hours drinking and then not get up in the morning to do the expected chores).  This conversation will then move into Come To Jesus territory and end with  me saying in that two-octave-lower voice "If you are living under our roof and we are paying the bills, you do what I want you to do."  And here's the kicker.  The voice drops another half octave and ends with "Are we clear?"

I didn't pull out the Come To Jesus voice often, but those times when I did are still talked about.  And I'm okay with that.  

I have had two outstanding Face The Consequences situations as a parent; one with each kid.  I consider them to be the pinnacle of my parenting career.  And neither one actually involved the Come To Jesus voice, now that I think about it.  Hmmmm.

But, we must have done something right because between the two of us, Captain and I raised two children who became functioning, contributing members of society with respectable lives of their own.  That's what parenting is supposed to be, in my mind.  

Call me a Big Old Meanie, but if I run into any of my kids' classmates and get a bear hug and a story about how I terrorized them...that's a red letter day in my book.  

Call me crazy.  

Yurt Adventure

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It's not a secret that we love adventures of all sorts but particularly camping adventures.  This began the first year we were married and has continued.  

We started out using a pup tent, and for all newly married couples this is a fine and cozy sleeping arrangement (wink, wink).  After that, we upgraded to a 4-person tent that was really only big enough for 2 people and all of the crap that they need to bring along!  

Then the kids were old enough to come along camping and we had to upgrade again.  We tried one of those cabin tent things that has a partition in the middle so the adults can sleep on one side and the kids can sleep on the other side.  That was so hard to put up that we only used it once.  We decided a better option was to have two tents, one for us and one for the kids.  That worked just fine. 

After the kids flew the coop and it was back to just the two of us who were now in the stage of life where all of the Rice Krispies we ate as children came back to haunt us with snap, crackle, pop if we tried sleeping on the ground in a tent.  

New approach:  camper cabins!  These have been a game changer for us because we can still get the back-to-nature, semi-roughing it feel of camping but with a real bed plus electricity and possibly heat and/or cooling systems.  We've been reserving these cabins for about 10 years now and love it.  

Several years ago when we stayed in a camper cabin at Afton State Park with some friends, we snooped around the yurts that are available at Afton and were intrigued.  The attraction was that it was something completely different than anything we'd done before, plus there was a wood stove in the yurt that would make cold-weather camping a possibility.  

We made reservations for that winter for mid February and were super excited about a new adventure.  Unfortunately, we were not able to stay at that time because there had been a CO2 alarm during the night and the local fire department declared it off limits for 48 hours.  Dang!

This winter, we finally tried again and were able to reserve and stay in the Coyote Yurt at Afton State Park.  I'm here to say, it was heavenly! I won't say that we were completely unplugged because we did make sure all of our devices were fully charged before we got there.  

We arrived at the yurt around 4:00 because Captain had been needed at the Reber Ranch until mid afternoon.  We had to park some distance away from the yurt and haul our supplies in with hand carts.  We've done this before and it's not a terribly ordeal, but on this occasion we were pulling the carts of a muddy incline so it was something of a struggle.  Thank goodness we both thought to bring our muck boots along!

Upon arriving at the yurt, we unlocked the door and stepped inside.  The yurt is round and approximately 20 feet in diameter.  The roof is peaked and has a screened opening covered by a clear plastic dome.  There is a crank apparatus that can be used to open that plastic dome in the summertime to let in a breeze but we opted to forego that pleasure.  

In the center was a 4-person wooden table with two chairs and a bench.  To the right were two sets of twin bunk beds, and on the left was a full size futon bunk bed.  Straight ahead opposite the door was the wood stove. 

View of the right side of the yurt

View of the left side of the yurt

Woodstove in the yurt

Some kindly soul had filled the wood bucket so using the fire starter sticks I had bought at Menards, Captain had a nice little fire going in the woodstove in a matter of minutes.  As he was doing that, I was rigging up our light situation.  There was a bungee cord that went from an anchor on the wall behind the wood stove, up the wall and ceiling through eye hooks and then hung down from the center of the yurt with a carabiner attached.  To this carabiner I hooked our brand new 1200-lumen battery powered LED lantern.  

Holy let there be light, batman--that was as bright as anything I've seen!  We also had two small and one medium battery powered lanterns that we placed a post on each of the bunkbeds so that there was ambient light from all directions, not just from above.  

While the yurt started to warm up, I made up the futon with the flannel sheets I'd brought along as well as a queen size crocheted bedspread and a queen size comforter.  

Meanwhile, Captain was getting the outside fire going because that is where he was going to have to cook supper.  We had stopped at Duff's Meats in Hastings on our way to the state park to pick up some ring bologna to have for supper and sausage patties to have for breakfast.  

While he was doing that, I stayed inside to tend the fire and sit in the rocker by the fire and crochet.  I love it when I can just lollygag around doing nothing while Captain cooks.  Does that make me some kind of chauvinist or just a lazy wife?  Inquiring minds want to know!

Anyway, Captain got the ring bologna and fried potatoes cooked and we had a nice supper at the table.  Normally we use enamel dishware when we camp but since I didn't want to stand outside in the chilly night air and do dishes, we opted for paper plates and plastic silverware.  

After we finished supper and cleaned up, it was the relaxation portion of the trip.  I stayed in the rocking chair near the stove and finished a large mandala fugly blanket while I listened to my Roasary study guide podcast and Mike caught up on the news of the world on my tablet.  We literally spent nearly 3 hours like that, and although Bigger doesn't believe me, it was glorious!  

When I snuggled under all those covers on the bed, I used the last of my phone's battery to listen to an audiobook as I went to sleep.  Sometime during the night I woke up to reposition, and I could hear rain pattering on the yurt.  Since I was snug and comfy, the sound was soothing and I went back to sleep.  

We started stirring in the morning around 7:00, and believe me, we just eased into the day leisurely.  When nature called and I had to walk the 100 yards to the facilities, I'm sure I was quite the picture in my blue hoodie, purple polka-dot fuzzy lounge pants, and my muck boots, but I kinda didn't care!

It took awhile to get the coffee made, so we took a little stroll around and spotted two deer crossing in front of us.  Further on we saw another deer that must have gotten wounded during hunting season as she was limping quite heavily.  I also heard a chickadee and a cardinal singing, amongst other birds I couldn't identify.  

She's kind of hard to see, but there is a does just walking into the woods

Back at camp, the coffee was percolating nicely on the fire, so I filled my cup and went inside to start packing up while Captain stayed out by the fire to make breakfast of fired potatoes and sausage patties.  While we were eating at the table, I saw those same three does through the window walking on the opposite side of the yurt where we'd seen them earlier, so they must have just made a big loop on their journey. 

We finished up breakfast, did the dishes, and finished packing and cleaning the yurt before we left.  Let me say, hauling the carts back to the parking area was much easier than hauling them to the yurt!  

We stopped at the ranger office to return the key, and while I was there I purchased the state parking Hiking Club journal and the Passport Club journal.  What can I say--I'm a joiner; I love being part of a group!

From the ranger station we drove to the visitor parking to walk the trail down to the overlook area for a panoramic view and a selfie.  The trouble with our selfies is that my little T-rex arms are too short to get a good picture, and Captain's fingers aren't nimble enough to do so.  But, we do the best we can.  

From Afton State Park, we detoured to Ellsworth for...you guessed it...warm cheese curds!  We only need one more punch on our frequent buyer card to get a free bag of cheese curds.  Suh-weet!

From there we rambled our way home, once again rejuvenated by just a short trip back to nature.  Thanks for coming along with us!  

What's Past Isn't Always In The Past

Image courtesy of https://e-gen.info/?page_id=9653

Once again, now that I am done with school and find myself with a crap load of free time, I am doing the family research thing.

Last summer, we had three family picnics on consecutive weekends with the Brogans, the Brehmers, and the Prokaskys.  For the Prokasky clan, it was the first time in decades.  I know you know this because I blogged about it at the time.  Get ready, because my plan is to do that same thing again this year!

Meanwhile, I also dusted off my copy of the Benike genealogy that my uncle, Jerry, gave me years ago.  As I dug in harder on that one, I discovered a couple of really cool little tidbits of family history. 

I have said before how my Grandma Clara Prokasky was a live-in maid for Dr. and Mrs. Plummer and my Grandma Clara Brehmer was a day maid for Dr. and Mrs. Judd.  Well, it turns out that two of my Grandma Clara Brehmer's relatives...either cousins or uncles, I'm not 100% clear on that...each worked as a chauffer for Dr. Charles W. Mayo!  I bet they had stories they could have told at the time!

On a sadder note, I just went to the funeral of my mom's cousin, Richard Prokasky.  That only leaves four remaining people from that generation still around to tell the tales:  my mom's sister, Donna; my mom's cousin, Pauline; my mom's cousin, Mary; and my mom's cousin, Ginger.  Look out, ladies, I'm going to make time to pick your brains about family lore and legend!

On a related note (see what I did there?), I recently had cause to visit the Rochester Public Library to renew my library card.  While there, I went up to the reference desk and asked the nice young man behind the counter what resources were available via the library for genealogy research.  

He was very helpful and gave me a quick overview of links on their website to Ancestry.com, MyHeritage.com, and the Olmsted County History Center.  Then, joy of joys, he led me to a section in the very back of the second floor that had hundreds of books strictly on genealogy and local history. 

Out of curiosity, I pulled out a thick, hard cover book on the history of Olmsted County from the mid to late 1800s and early 1900s.  I didn't find any Brehmers, Prokaskys, or Benikes in the alphabetic index of names, but I did find a couple of Brogans. 

Specifically, James Brogan, son of Anthony and Kate Brogan, Irish immigrants circa 1853.  Anthony and Kate settled on 160 acres in section 35 of Elmira Township and lived long, productive lives.  James took over the--I'll call it a homestead--in 1891 just a year before his father passed away.  James eventually married Myrtle Lane, and they started a family, having a son, Boyd, and a daughter, Vera.

When I came home and told Captain what I'd discovered in this history book, his first question was "What happened to that farm?"  Huhn...good question.  We looked in a recent Olmsted County plat book and there was nothing to indicate a Brogan had owned land there in recent years.  Strange...

Later that evening while visiting Gammy, Captain mentioned it to her.  She couldn't think of having ever heard or seen any evidence of that particular parcel of land being Brogan land, either.  So, she called her brother-in-law the next day to find out more.  

G-Rod couldn't remember finite details either, but he did add to the picture.  James and Myrtle had two other children, a son, Lawrence, and a son, Paul.  Paul is Captain's paternal grandfather.  The history is sketchy because the family was fractured during the 1918 flu epidemic when both Myrtle and Vera passed away from the illness.  James, in his grief, was not able to care for the children and because his late wife's parents were either unable or unwilling to step in as care givers, the three boys ended up being taken in by other family members.  Sadly, it appears he was not able to maintain the homestead, either.  I think I remember someone saying he ended up working for the county highway department maintaining Highway 52 or something like that.  

These are the sad details that are inherently part of the research.  It's all well and good to think every story is "all because two people fell in love" with exponentially greater number of people in each generation, but the reality is that life is messy, sad, and sometimes tragic.  

I've talked about how Cubby always gets a little frown and teary-eyed when we are at St. Michael's Cemetery in the spring putting out veteran's flags and she finds a headstone of a child.  The same thing happens to me when I'm researching records of ancestors and find records for "Baby Boy So-and-So" or "Infant Such-and-Such."  I am thankful that infant and/or maternal fatalities are much less common than they used to be!

Anyway, short story long, I'll be boring you to tears with family nuggets of legend, myth, and lore I dig up.  If nothing else, it will be a good documentation of our family history for Cubby to--hopefully--treasure some day.  

Blessings, my friends!