Week 52: Me, Myself, and I

 

Dear future family genealogists:

I’m writing this to tell you a little about myself—something to help flesh out what online documents might tell you.  I was the first child born to Donald Duane Scott and Peggy Kathryn Williams Scott.  Three years and three days after I was born, my little brother Jerry Duane arrived.  Three years and a month after he showed up, Janet Lynn was born.  

I inherited most of my Germanic, Scottish , and Finish DNA from Dad and most of my British Isles and Scandinavian DNA from Mom.  Physically, I look most like my dad’s side of the family and my personality most matched his.  

Right now, at 71 years old, I’m 5’4” tall.  When I was younger, I stood almost 5’6” tall.  Like most people, as I got older my spine compressed and some of that height disappeared.  My feet are bigger than they were when I was younger—about a size and a half larger.  A little research told me that pregnancy hormones relax the ligaments in your feet, causing the bones to spread and widen.  And if that’s not bad enough, as people age their feet tend to get widen too.  No wonder people wear sensible shoes when they’re older.  I’m not going to publish my shoe size.

I had dark brown hair when I was younger.  Now the brown has lightened and it’s slowly turning grey.   My hair wasn’t naturally curly like the women in my maternal line or even a little bit wavy.  It was just straight.  When I was little my mom would set my hair in rollers or pin curls at night.  As a teen, I set it in large rollers and spent hours under my hair dryer to get my hair just right.  It’s a wonder my brain didn’t cook because I’d set my hair wet before going to bed, then put the hair dryer bonnet over it, turn on the dryer, and fall asleep.  At some point during the night, I’d wake up enough to turn off the dryer.  I’m not sure how I managed to sleep on those torture devices, but I did.

I’ve worn glasses or contact lenses since I was about eight years old.  Mom first took me to the eye doctor after one of those school screenings we used to have showed that I wasn’t seeing very well.  My first reaction after coming out of the eye doctor’s office wearing my cat-eye glasses was amazement at all I’d been missing.  I could see individual leaves on trees!  I could read signs!  That thrill didn’t last.  Before long, I’d wear the glasses out of the house in the morning and then hide them in my lunch box when I got on the bus.  I didn’t like the way I looked in them.  At school I’d keep them in my desk until I absolutely had to read something on the chalkboard.  What can I say?  I was a vain little kid.  When I was a freshman in high school, I was able to get contact lenses for the first time.  For the first time I could see without having to suffer with ugly glasses and the world was clear to me all the time.  My next adventure will be cataract surgery in a few years.  I plan on having the kind of lens replacement that would let me see without glasses or contacts.  

Speaking of school, I was a good student.  I nearly got all A’s, with some B’s thrown in once in a while in elementary school and junior high.  One time—I think it was in 3rd grade--I got a C. Horrors!  In high school I continued to do well.  I was in the National Honor Society and was a National Merit Semifinalist.  Sports weren’t my thing in high school, but not many sports were available for girls then.  In fact, the only girls’ sports team that existed was a swim team during the four years I was at Jackson High School and that would have required me getting my hair wet, so that didn’t happen.

Instead, I was involved in music.  I started playing the cornet in fifth or sixth grade and continued with it until switching to French horn when I was a little older.  I loved being part of the band crowd and made a majority of my friendships there.  My high school was only a few years old when I started there so all our uniforms and instruments were brand new, making them seem more special.  I can still remember all the words to my high school fight song but not how my French horn part went.  I almost didn’t continue on with music when I got to college.  A month into my first semester at Arizona State University, one of my dorm friends found out that I had been in high school band and she urged me to join the Sun Devil Band.  I tried out and made it.  The director put me into a squad of three guys.  The squad leader, a sax player by the unlikely name of Spike, was two years older than me and was someone I wanted to get to know.  He was kind of shy so I started dating a trumpet player instead.  After a few weeks, that relationship fizzled and Spike worked up the nerve to ask me out.  Three years later, we got married.

I’ve always like to read.  As a little kid I went through phases of what kind of books interested me.  I read lots of books about dog breeds.  I read all of the Trixie Beldon and Nancy Drew mysteries.  I read novels.  I read some of the classics.  I always had a library book going. Nowadays, I belong to two book clubs that each meet once a month.  One is devoted to mystery books and the other includes novels, biographies, historical, and non-fiction books.  I don’t visit the library very often now.  Instead, I borrow library books online or buy books to read on my iPad.  I like it that way so books don’t pile up here in the house.

I’ve always been a person who liked order and cleanliness.  I grew up in a house that was kept clean and tidy at all times, which helped to form my habits but honestly, I think it’s also part of my genetic makeup.  I’m constantly putting things straight and symmetrical.  I attack dirty dishes and floors with a vengeance.  If something’s not in its place, I’m compelled to put it where it belongs.  I make my bed every morning.  I’d never leave a dirty dish or glass in the sink overnight.  I wipe down the shower after I use it.  When I was teaching, I’d clean the desk tops every day after the students left.  It’s automatic to me.  It’s not something I have to think about.  My brain needs order and cleanliness. 

I can’t sing.  Never could.  Even my second-grade music teacher agreed.

I tried dance lessons but dancing didn’t come easily.  I’d like to be a person who dances, but my feet don’t agree.  My brain doesn’t read the man’s signals when he leads.  Maybe I’ll try again someday.

I don’t like to play cards.  That makes Spike sad.  But at least I gave him children who would play cards with him.

I don’t like to do jigsaw puzzles or see the hundreds of pieces spread all over.

I do like to try new recipes.  Most days I enjoy cooking.  Cookies are my favorite thing to make.  I enjoy making them to give to neighbors when they move in or as gifts.

I love Mexican food of all types.  Ice cream is my favorite dessert--but only quality ice cream like Blue Bell or Häagen Dazs or Ben & Jerry's.  I adore high quality dark chocolate but don't care for milk chocolate at all.  

I love old roaming through old cemeteries to find the graves of my ancestors.  I enjoy genealogy research and building my family tree.

I like to play an online Scrabble game called Words with Friends with two of my best friends. Every day I also play Wordle, where you get 6 chances to guess a 5-letter word.  As soon as I have the word I text it to the Weirdles—Spike, Erin, and Niki—and they text their results to me.

I love getting pedicures but (almost) never get manicures.  Polish never lasts on my fingernails because I’m always putting my hands in water to clean something.  I keep my nails short and sometimes wear clear polish on them.  I’d like to have beautiful hands and nails, but I’ll never do it.  My fingers are another thing that have changed size over the years.  My finger joints have arthritis in them and several of my fingers are crooked from it.  I tried on my original wedding ring a few years ago and couldn’t get it past my first knuckle.  Even my most recent diamond wedding ring needs to be resized and it’s only fifteen years old.  Until that happens, I wear silicone rings.  They stretch.

My chosen career was teaching.  I started by teaching fifth grade for a few years.  Then I was asked to teach a 5/6 split.  That was a hard year trying to teach two separate curriculums in the same room.  Then I moved on to teaching sixth grade math.  I really liked that because math had always been a favorite subject of mine in school.  After only a year of sixth math I got a job teaching 7th grade math and then was moved to 8th grade pre-algebra.  After two years of that, I was also given an algebra class.  A few years later, all 8th grade students in the state of California were put in algebra classes.  That’s when I really had fun teaching.  Algebra was way more interesting to teach than arithmetic had ever been.  I tried my best to make the subject memorable to my students, even bravely teaching them to sing a quadratic formula song.  Over the years, former students would come back to the middle school to visit and tell me that things I had taught them really stuck in their brains.  They said they appreciated the lengths I went to in explaining new ideas and making them accessible.  I know I was a much better teacher as the years went on.

The things I’m most proud of in my life are my kids and my marriage.  It was a thrill to discover I was carrying twins back in 1977.  I went into the delivery room not knowing their genders since sonagrams weren’t offered back then. We were fortunate to have two beautiful, healthy identical twin girls, each weighing over 6 pounds.  We named them Nicole Irene and Erin Eileen.  Fourteen months later I was pregnant again and just before the girls turned two years old, their 9 lb. baby brother Jordan Scott was born.  That kept me busy for a long time. I had one more pregnancy when my kids were all teenagers.  Instead of adding to our household, it was a surrogate for my brother Jerry and his wife Kim.  In 1993 when I was 41 years old I gave birth to Abbey, a very special girl to me.

Spike and I married on 18 Aug 1973 and celebrated our 50th anniversary this year.  Who knew that the goofy shy saxophone player I met in 1970 would turn into a kind, hardworking husband and the best possible dad and grandpa?  His career moved us all over the country, but we always made the best of it and our kids adapted well.  We were always conservative with our money so now we live securely in retirement.  I hope we have many years left together.

In 2003 Niki married Corey Stringer and the following year Erin married Andrew Malahowski.  Both men are top-notch sons-in-law.  My grandchildren are Charlotte JoAnn Stringer, born in 2008; Sonia Marie Malahowski, born in 2009; and Peter James Stringer, born in 2009.  All three are intelligent, funny, talented, and kind.  One of the saddest days in my life came in May 2008 when my grandson Zachary Evan Malahowski was stillborn.  I never got to watch him grow up, but I'll always hold him in my heart.  In 2024 Irene Durbak is going to join the Evans clan.  We're thrilled to have her as part of the family.

I've had a wonderful life so far!

about three months old

  about a year old

about 18 months old

Janet, Jerry, and I about 1960

Those glasses!

5th grade, glasses hidden

1970, senior picture

1973 engagement picture

June 1977, leaving the hospital with Erin and Niki

May 1979 with Jordan

My 1952 Chevy truck

                                                                                2021

                                                         front:  Peter, Sonia, Charlotte

                                                         middle:  Spike, Jo Ann

                                                         back:  Corey, Niki, Andrew, Erin, Irene, Jordan

                                                                                 2023

                                                                front:  Charlotte

                                                                middle:  Spike, Sonia, Jo Ann

                                                                back:  Niki, Peter, Erin, Corey

Week 51: Cousins

Growing up in Northern Indiana, most of my cousins lived less than an hour away, which meant our families got together a lot.  Many of us have moved far apart as adults, but the close and common bonds we formed in our childhood make it easy to slip back into the familiar friendships when we do manage to get together now.  We may not see each other as much as we'd like, but we cousins have a special knowledge and love for each other that just isn't the same with people we've met later in life.

When we're together we tell stories from our shared past and about family members who've passed away.  We laugh like crazy at some of our funniest memories (like Roger the dog boy and Grandma's forbidden candy dish) and share intergenerational stories about those in the generations before us.  Some of my cousins know family history that I don't remember or never knew and have been a great resource in my genealogy research.  They remember places that people before us lived, have documents that are helpful, and have given me pictures that I cherish.  Each of us hears and learns tidbits of family history from a different perspective. When I discover something interesting in my genealogy research I can't wait to email or text them so they can hear about it.

         Scott cousins in 2005 attempting to recreate a group shot from the late 1960s

         Front row:  Tiz, Paula, Janet, Becky

         Back row:  Bill, Carol, Larry, Jo Ann, John, Jerry

         Missing:  Janice

             The first four Scott cousins in 1952

             On the floor:  Janice, Carol, Larry

             On Mom's lap:  Jo Ann

             Adults:  Rene Scott, Audrey Scott, GrandDad Scott, Peg Scott

             Feet:  Grandma Scott

              Williams cousins around 1962

              Front:  Jerry

              On the fence:  Janet, Bruce, Brian, Amy (held up by Grandma Williams)

              Toddlers or infants not shown:  Larry, Brad, Laurie

              Not born till much later:  Bobbie Jo, Gary

Facebook and Instagram have helped to keep us cousins up to date in each other's lives over the last ten or twelve years.  There's even a special FB page for the Bird Family, made up of my Scott cousins and of second cousins on my Dad's maternal side of the family.  I've been able to pose questions there about my great-grandparents and grand aunts and uncles that have been answered from several points of view. 

During the hours I've spent on Ancestry.com, my family tree has branched into the present and not just the past.  I've found and connected by email with Brenda Studebaker and Missy Song, both 4th cousins from Indiana on my Scott family tree.  Our shared ancestors are our 3x great-grandparents Caleb Scott and Mary Ivins.  I've also found and connected with Avery Williams, a 4th cousin who lives in Louisiana.  Our common ancestors are our 3x great-grandparents John Williams and Eliza Calendar.  If I had met Brenda, Missy, or Avery on the street a few years back they would have been complete strangers to me, but now that we've discovered our common ancestors, we feel a special cousin bond.  Missy, Brenda, and I have talked about meeting in person--something that I've made a goal for 2024.  There's something about having shared centimorgans of DNA that compels me to get to know these distant cousins to add a different dimension to my family.  

Week 50: I Couldn't Believe It

 

Irene Eldora Cartwright Williams

I've been working on this blog for nearly a year now, with only a couple more stories to be explored.  I'm altering this week's prompt just a little because somehow I've never written about my Grandma Williams and that's just not right.  Of my two grandmas, I was closest to her and spent the most time with her, even sharing a bedroom for a year with her when I was in middle school.  Between 1952 when I was born until 1955 when my parents bought their first house, we lived in an apartment sectioned off from Grandma and Grandpa's house at 456 E. Walnut Street in Nappanee.  As soon as I could crawl, I roamed back and forth through the door that separated our apartment from Grandma and Grandpa's part of the house.  I was the apple of Grandma's eye since I was her first grandchild and was considered the most perfect baby ever born.  It was an idyllic start for my life.

Irene was born on 26 Oct 1909 in the tiny village of Mylo, North Dakota only a few miles from the Canadian border, just twenty years after North and South Dakota were simultaneously admitted to the Union.  Her family had emigrated from Indiana eleven years earlier to homestead 160 acres of land.  Although Grandma could claim North Dakota as her birthplace, she had no memory of the place since her family moved back to Indiana before she was a year old.  As far as my mom can remember, Grandma never visited her home state later in life. However, Mylo is on my bucket list.

                                 Mylo's location in Rolette County & Rolette County's location in ND 

When Grandma was 14 years old and finishing her freshman year in high school her father died.  That was the last year she attended school.  I know her mother cleaned houses to make a living for the family after losing her husband, but I don't know if Grandma herself went to work as well to help out.  At 16 ½ Grandma married Lester Williams.

The Cartwright family when Grandma's older brother Pete was serving in WW1.  Grandma is wearing the hair bow.

I think this may have been taken about 1924 when her father died.

I love this picture taken early in her marriage.

Grandma had curly dark auburn-red hair and about a million freckles, although they don't show up in  any of the above pictures.  Her feet were small (in comparison to mine, anyway). When she was a girl the top joint of one of her index fingers was cut off when she and her older sister Clara were putting away a hand-push reel mower.  A tiny piece of fingernail grew out like a little claw for most of her life until she had that removed as an adult.  Grandma's arms were big and squishy soft.  I can remember coming inside after playing outside in the snow and putting my hands under her soft upper arms to warm them up as she held me.   

I could always count on something delicious to eat at her house.  One of her specialties was berry pie and she never seemed to care that I just ate the filling since I didn't like piecrust. When she bought maple syrup from her Amish neighbors, Grandma would pour some in a saucer and give me bread to tear into pieces and dip in the syrup.  There was always a gallon of vanilla ice cream from the Burger Dairy Store in Nappanee in her freezer and plenty of Hershey's syrup to cover it.  

Grandma was famous for the volume of her snoring.  Looking back now, I'm not sure how I ever fell asleep when we shared a bedroom.  She had moved in with our family after she and my grandpa divorced in the mid-1960s.  Luckily I slept a lot easier than I do now because even foam earplugs wouldn't have helped that level of racket. 

After Grandma moved from our house and back to Nappanee we still saw her a lot.  More than once when she came to visit us before I had a driver's license she'd take me back home with her and let me drive her Ford on the 30 miles of country roads.  And once, for some reason, when I was a freshman or sophomore I decided it would be fun to ride my bike to her house to spend the night.  I recruited my friend Crystal and begrudgingly let my little sister Janet come along.  We didn't take any water with us; instead we stopped at one or two farm houses along the way to ask for drinks.  We were pretty trusting back then.  After spending the night in a tent in Grandma's front yard we got on our bikes again and headed back home with sore seats.

Grandma was proud when I graduated from high school and college and she traveled all the way to Arizona for my wedding in 1973.  Four years later I made her a great-grandma for the first time when my twins were born.  Two days after I gave birth she wrote us this letter:

Her eyesight was starting to fail by this time but it didn't stop her a few weeks later from flying to Arizona to meet her great-granddaughters Erin Eileen and Nicole Irene.  Grandma was thrilled to know that I had chosen Irene as Niki's middle name.  Mom and I took the opportunity to have portraits taken and I'm so glad we did.  By early December of that year, Grandma passed away from heart disease so I never saw her again.

                                                             Erin, Great-grandma, Nicole

                                                          

  

                                                                         4 generations

                                                            One last favorite picture:

                                    On the porch of 456 E. Walnut Street, Nappanee, Indiana

and a recipe in her writing:

If Grandma could come back now as a 113 year-old she'd find that she had 21 great-grandchildren and 21 great-great-grandchildren.  She'd be over-the-moon happy to meet them.

           

Week 49: Family Recipe

For generations of my Williams family line one of the most loved foods has been homemade noodles.  Noodles could be paired with beef or chicken, but either way they were delicious.  I grew up watching my mom make noodles, just like she had watched her mom and grandma make them.  Once I got married I asked for the recipe, but it turns out there wasn't ever one written down.  Instead, the noodles were made by example, by watching, and by learning just how the dough should feel when it was just right for rolling out.  

Well, I'm  a recipe follower.  I needed more specific directions before I'd try them on my own. So one day as my mom made noodles I wrote down as closely as I could what was happening so once she wasn't there I'd have a record of the process.  It's still not precise, but I do have a starting point.

Meem's Noodles

                            -About 2 cups of flour

                            -4 whole eggs, beaten with a fork

                            Gradually add flour to the eggs until it forms a ball you can handle

                            that's not too sticky.  Place the ball on a floured board or counter and

                            roll out thin.  Let the rolled dough dry for about two hours, then cut

                            it into fourths and stack the pieces.  Slice into pieces about 3" long and

                            however width you want them.  Toss the noodles with more flour and

                            spread out to dry further before cooking in broth.

As a little kid, my favorite way that Mom served them is when she would open a can of beef that my grandpa had given us from one of his cows, mix it with beef broth, and simmer until the beef was tender.  Then it was time to get the mixture to a stronger simmer and to add the noodles a few at a time, stirring to make sure they didn't clump together.  The noodles would absorb some of the beef broth and thicken the mixture a little.  They were best served along with mashed potatoes and a vegetable.  I know, that's a lot of carbs on one plate.  But there was something magical about noodles and beef and mashed potatoes all mooshed together on my plate that made me eat and eat until I couldn't take another bite. 

Mom was cleaning up here after noodle making in this shot taken at my house in Texas in 2012.  We had a mini-reunion for Mom with her brothers Bob and Leo; their wives Pat and Bev; my Aunt Kay (widow of Mom's brother Joe); my dad and my sister Janet; and my cousin Bobbie Jo and her husband Jeff.  This day Mom made noodles for us just like Grandma would have.  We had lots of laughs and fun that week hearing the stories that Mom, Bob, and Leo told us about their lives and sharing some of the foods they grew up with.  

Now, just eleven years later, Uncle Bob is gone.  Aunt Bev is gone.  Dad is gone. Aunt Kay is in assisted living.  Uncle Leo is in assisted living, debilitated by lung cancer.  Mom is in assisted living hampered by memory loss.  I'm so glad we had that week together while they were all healthy and able to travel because the memories I have will always be in my heart.  

At the Dallas Arboretum

Bob, Pat, Mom, Janet, Dad, Kay, Leo

Aunt Bev and Uncle Leo

Aunt Pat and Uncle Bob

Aunt Kay, Mom, Aunt Bev

Uncle Leo, Dad, Janet

Week 48: Troublemaker

 

Depression has been a troublemaker in the generations directly before and after mine.  I started wondering how common depression might be in the general population.

From what I can find, it seems that about 1 out every 10 people in the United States will experience major depressive disorder sometime in their life and for some reason, twice as many women as men are affected.  I wondered what part genes might play in causing depression.  

In an article titled "Depression and Genetics" on a Stanford University website, I learned that scientists study patterns of illness in families to estimate what percentage of their cause is due to genes.  One method used is to find pairs of twins to see how common it might be for just one of the pair to have depressive disorder versus both of the pair to be affected.  Studies have found that anxiety and depression are partly hereditary since identical twins (who share 100% of their genes) are more likely to have both disorders when compared to pairs of fraternal twins (who share 50% of their genes).  As of now, no single gene has been identified as the cause.  It may be that combinations of different genes inherited from parents that affect a person's chance of being depressed.  Even if genetics are partly the cause, there are other factors like environment, lifestyle, and personal experiences to be considered.

Whatever the cause, depression is a tough disorder.  In my maternal line alone there have been:

• three out of four of my mom and her siblings
• two out of three of me and my siblings
• three out of three of my children

Luckily for my generation, my offspring, and for some in the previous generation, there have been anti-depressants (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors or SSRIs) to help. During the 18th and 19th centuries, common treatments were diet changes, enemas, water immersion, and even a spinning stool to put the brain back into a correct position.  In the 20th century, electroconvulsive therapy was sometimes applied to the scalp to induce a seizure as treatment.  Finally, in the 1950s doctors noticed that a tuberculosis medication seemed to be effective in treating some depression patients.  In the 1980s and 90s SSRIs began to be developed.  

There's no way for me to tell from looking at my family tree to tell which of my early ancestors may have had depression disorder, but it must have been immensely difficult to live with those feelings without having effective treatment or understanding of them.   

Week 47: This Ancestor Stayed Home

                                         

At the foot of a massive tree in the Pleasant Grove Cemetery in Warsaw, Indiana, there's a headstone gradually being hidden by its trunk.  My 2x great-granduncle Abraham Scott is buried there.  I've thought about two decisions that he made in his life and have wondered what made him make those choices.  In both cases, he stayed home when others of his family left for the frontier or for war.  What caused him to stay behind?

Abraham was born on 7 Jun 1830 in Lexington Township, Stark County, Ohio, the first born child of  Caleb Scott and his second wife, Mary Ivins.  According to the Biographical and Historical Record of Kosciusko County 1887, Abraham was apprenticed to learn the trades of stonecutting, stonemasonry, and bricklaying when he was 18 years old.  For the next fifteen years he practiced the trade in both Stark and Columbiana Counties in Ohio and was one of the masons who built the first brick building in Alliance, Ohio.

In 1850, just two years after his apprenticeship began, the rest of Abraham's family left Ohio, headed west to the newer state of Indiana.  Abraham said good bye to his 51 year old father and 41 year-old mother. He said good bye to his siblings:  Samuel (18), Emeline (16), William (14), Caleb Shreve (12), Isaac (10), Joseph (8), Mary Jane (7), Joshua (5), Amasa (2), and newborn Nancy Ellen.  It must have been a lonely feeling to see the wagons leave, not knowing if he'd ever see his family again.  Why did he stay?  By the mid-1800s apprenticeships had changed from the formal system followed in England and the American colonies.  Very few young men were bound by formal contracts to live under the rule of the master tradesman and instead were paid for their work as they learned the trade.  Did Abraham love the trade and want to continue learning more about it?   I wonder.

On 28 Oct 1852, 22-year old Abraham married Mary Catherine Hilton Hoils, a widow with three children.  Catherine, as she was known, was four-and-a half years older than he was and had three children by her first husband.  Over the next ten years Abraham and Catherine lived in Stark County and grew their family with three sons--Caleb Frank in 1853, William in 1856, and James Marion in 1862.  Sadly, William died at age 5, just thirteen months before James Marion was born.

In 1862, soon after James was born, Abraham and Catherine left Ohio and followed the road to Kosciusko County, Indiana, where Abraham's family had settled twelve years earlier .  In 1863 he and Catherine purchased 155 acres of heavily timbered land in Washington Township of Kosciusko County near the settlement of Packerton.  Abraham built a rudimentary log cabin (that must have felt strange for a trained mason) and began the work of clearing the land for planting with only a team of oxen. 

During the same two years that Abraham moved and began clearing his new land in Indiana, others men in Indiana were leaving to join the Union army.  Six of his brothers made that decision and headed off to the war.  But 32-year old Abraham chose to stay home in Indiana with his wife and five children.  Four of his brothers who left were young single men; was widowed, with a young daughter; and one was newly married.  Did Abraham feel that he had too many responsibilities at home?  Did he think it was a war for younger men?  I wonder.

Over the course of the rest of his life Abraham transformed his acreage.  The Biographical and Historical Record of Kosciusko County 1887 gave this description of the farm:

"His present farm now consists of 155 acres of well-improved land, and his primitive log cabin and sheds have been replaced by one of the best residences in the county, his barns and outbuildings being correspondingly good."

Abraham and Catherine had two more children after moving to Indiana.  In 1865 daughter Ida May Scott was born and in 1869 son Isaac L. G. Scott was born.  Sadly, in 1872 young James Marion died of typhoid-pneumonia just a few months before his 10th birthday.  In 1879 Abraham and Catherine adopted their 5-year old niece Sarah Frush after Abraham's sister Nancy Ellen Scott Frush died. Abraham would live to see a third son die when Caleb Frank Scott passed away in June of 1898.

Six months later on 10 Dec 1898 Abraham himself died.  In various local newspapers he was described as a prominent farmer; and old and respected citizen; an upright citizen; and a man widely known for his honesty and Christian character.  It was mentioned that he had been ill for two years before his death and that "his death came as a merciful release from the suffering."  He was 68 years, 6 months, and 3 days at his passing.

Week 46: This Ancestor Went to Market

 

Mom and Dad in 1973 with their Lake Havasu tans

Why was there no apostrophe???

My dad, Donald Duane Scott, "brought the market" to thousands of customers over the years. Between 1970 and 1989 Dad owned Scotties Catering in Lake Havasu, Arizona, where he drove a mobile food truck that delivered breakfasts, lunches, and dinners to factory and construction workers and employees of small businesses. At first it was just Dad with one truck but over the years other drivers and trucks were added.  

Dad would wake up around 4 a.m. to get the ovens in the back of the trucks lit so they'd be hot when breakfast sandwiches, burritos, burgers, and hot dogs were loaded. The trucks would have been cleaned, restocked, and iced the evening before but in the morning more ice would be added on to refresh the layer covering the sodas and to keep the cold sandwiches that would be loaded cool. Melt-ables like candy bars were brought from cool storage out to the truck shelves.  Relishes were stocked to be ready for the burgers and hot dogs.  Coffee was brewed and poured into the urns. Cigarette stocks were checked.  Then it was time to get armed with the supplies to take the customers' money. Coins were carried in a changer and currency in a canvas belt worn the waist. The previous night the coins and currency had been counted and then a set amount reloaded.  By the time his truck was ready for the road he had worked several hours.

Dad was a well-known and respected figure in Lake Havasu. Before my first summer job of driving one of the trucks I rode along with him on his route for a few days to learn the job. I remember being amazed at how many people in town knew Dad by name, wanted to talk and joke with him when they made a purchase, and considered him a friend. He had a soft heart when someone was short on cash before payday and would extend credit if he knew them. His method for keeping track of charges was to write them on his hand (and sometimes up his arm) in ink so he could transfer it later to paper. Dad loved to trade jokes with his customers and some of his favorites sometimes got a handful of ice thrown at them--trust me, they liked it. For a good portion of the year Lake Havasu is a beastly hot place to work.  His truck had an air horn that blasted an "Ah-Oo-Ga" to let everyone know that Scottie was on the premises.

Scotties Catering was a family affair. My mom was the head cook and kitchen manager, overseeing the making of thousands of sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, and soups over the years. My sister excelled at wrapping hot dogs, driving trucks,  and later at baking banana bread and cookies.  So.  Many. Cookies.  My brother helped clean and service the trucks and occasionally drove a route. During summers after my first three years in college I drove a route.  

Drivers came and went over the 19 years, but Dad was the constant face of Scotties Catering. After several heart attacks it was time to hang up his changer for the last time and enjoy a retired life. Dad sold the business to a nice family who kept the logo so the Scotties trucks still ran for many years.  When Dad passed away in 2014 my sister located one of the Scotties trucks and had it parked outside the church at his funeral.