One family member who found herself in a sticky situation was Amelia Mary Earhart. As one of the leading pioneers for women aviators, she disappeared on a global flight on July 2, 1937. Although many searched for her, she was never found.
Amelia Mary Earhart was born on July 24, 1897 in Atchison, Kansas to Samuel “Edwin” Staton Earhart and Amelia “Amy” Otis Earhart. Amelia and her younger sister, Grace, were tomboys who liked to play and explore the neighborhood. They would catch bugs, climb trees, and they enjoyed racing on sleds in the winter. Continue reading “Amelia Mary Earhart: Flying Solo”
The distant ringing of the phone brought her out of her slumber. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and slowly sat up in her bed. Yawning, she looked at the bedside clock. It was almost time to get up anyway. She reached over, picked up the alarm clock and switched it to off. It was probably someone calling for the donut shop again. The two phone numbers were so annoyingly similar, and she received calls from the shop more times than she could count. She made her way to the kitchen to start her coffee. Just as the coffee began to perk, the phone rang again. She grabbed her notepad and pen. She said hello, and the guy on the other end asked, “Is this the donut shop?” Continue reading “Number, Please”
I have a strange fascination for cemeteries and tombstones. I know. I know. It’s sounds morbid, but as a history buff and an amateur genealogist, it’s not as bizarre as it sounds. If you look closely, each stone tells a story. Recently, I’ve been checking out some funny, strange, and unusual headstones, and I wanted to take a peek at some of my ancestors’ grave sites to see what I could “dig up.” Continue reading “Family Tombstones”
As a child, I was blessed to have my maternal grandparents live on the same little island in California. Their sweet presence made a positive impact on my life, and I enjoyed spending time with them, especially when I could spend the night. Continue reading “Cowgirls and Freckles”
At the age of four, my family moved to Alameda, California. This little island tucked away in the San Francisco Bay showcased many Victorian homes. These beauties included everything from quaint cottages to astounding mansions and varying sizes in between. While living on the island, children that lived in these houses, often told wild tales about secret rooms or spoke of hidden treasure. My brothers and I would often search for hidden rooms and fortune too. When I was five or six, I did find a prize, an antique teapot from Holland. Continue reading “My Island Home”
I slipped downstairs with a small shovel and started digging under the stairwell.
When I was a child, my childhood home was a three-story Victorian beauty nestled on an island in the San Francisco Bay. It was the perfect place for a child with an active imagination. The first level of the home housed two garages, a bar, a laundry room, a pottery room, and an extra room that we used as a playroom. Continue reading “Buried Treasure”
When I was thirteen, I had my first real crush, and his name was, well to save us both some embarrassment, I will call him Ben…Ben Williams. When I first met this young man, I was about eleven or twelve at the time, and I have to admit it was not love at first sight. Ben and I had been friends for some time; I was a Girl Scout, and he was a Boy Scout. We enjoyed several camping and backpacking expeditions during our scouting years. Believe it or not, our troops went backpacking together. Continue reading “First Kiss”
After the death of her parents, my 9x great-grandmother left her French homeland behind and traveled across rough waters to make a new life in Canada. While researching this adventurous grandmother, I often wondered if she had any inkling about her new life. Although this woman knew that she was to marry once she reached her destination, did she worry about her future mate? Did she wonder about the life they would share? Did she fear the unknown frontier? Continue reading “Jeanne Fressel: A King’s Daughter in New France”
One of my favorite old-time photos shows my great, great grandfather, William Strassburg, crossing a river on a wagon with a pair of horses. No name or date appears on the back. However, I know my grandfather lived in Gunnison, Colorado for many years, and the scenery does resemble the Western Slope of Colorado. The boys in the wagon are a mystery, and no one in the family knew who the children were. Continue reading “Crossing the River”
In 1956 in the little town of Delta, Colorado while standing with her parents, a young woman cried; she wasn’t ready to leave her parents and return home. Her vacation was not long enough, and she wished she could spend more time with her family. As people began to gather at the bus stop that would take them to western destinations, the parents of the young women tried to comfort their daughter as she prepared to head back to California and return to her job as a telephone operator in Oakland. Once the bus pulled up to the curb, her parents teased her about the fine-looking young men in uniform that were also traveling on the bus. Her mother spotted a handsome man in his dress greens; he had dark hair and large brown eyes that warmly sparkled when he smiled. “Oh, I would sit by that one,” her mother urged. Continue reading “No, Not That One”