Jacob Yazel’s 30 Pound Liver

Unfortunately while I’ve been on break I have only had one day where I was able to make it to the Indiana State Library.  It was, however, a great visit.  I learned a lot of interesting info.  I was mostly looking for obituaries for Andrew’s family.  The goal is to get as many copied and recorded with the information transferred into my tree as possible.  It was amazing how helpful it was to fill some holes in my mom’s branch while out in Scranton.

Here was one of the most interesting stories I found.  I will just transcribe the entire news story from the Bourbon News Mirror in Marshall County on June 13, 1907:

“Last Thursday morning an operation was performed on Jacob Yazel, who lived near Inwood, for the purpose of locating the trouble he was having and seeking a remedy.  The operation was performed by Dr. McClure, of Inwood, and Dr. Shaffer, of Chicago, a son of Dr. Shaffer from Rochester.  When the surgeons had finished opening the abdomen of Mr. Yazel it was discovered that the outside of the liver was so hard that it was almost impossible to insert surgeons’ needles in it and when it was possible to do so the inside of the organ was spongy, thus indicating a condition that was incurable.  The wound was sewed up after the surgeons had made an exhaustive examination and though the patient rallied nicely it was seen he was not long for the world and on the following morning, about 6:30, he died.  The liver was so diseased that it was estimated to weigh almost 30 pounds.  The operation lasted 40 minutes.  Mr. Yazel had been ill for some weeks and all the physicians could do was to insist on the operation.  A few days before his death he sent for Attorney Thomas, of this place, and had his will made, leaving the farm and personal property to his wife.  He explained that he had made up his mind that he had to be operated on and took the will making as precaution, fearing he would not be able to survive it.  The deceased was about 65 years of age and was well knowsn and respected and leaves besides his wife a family of children, grown, who are all doing well.  The funeral was held Sunday. ”

A 30 pound liver?  My husband made the point that my dog is 30 pounds.  Now, this is a newspaper from 1907 and accuracy was never a strong point of sensational journalism.  But even a 20 pound liver would be amazingly impressive.

The other thing I love about this article is that it was front page news!  A surgery of one of the residents was front page news.

Anyway, it is sad that he died of liver failure at a young age, but this was an interesting bit of history that I enjoyed reading.

This is a photo that was THOUGHT to be Jacob Yazel.  If anyone out there sees this and knows otherwise, please respond.  I am guessing he is the one seated.  He would be around the right age.

Possibly Jacob Yazel and Family

Jacob Yazel is Andrew’s Great Great Great Grandfather in this way.  Andrew Nelson, son of > Gloria Reed, daughter of > James Reed, son of > Edna Faye Seymour, daughter of > Maude Yazel, daughter of > Jacob Yazel!

An Adventure for All Ages

We recently took a day trip up to Plymouth, Indiana, which is where Andrew’s maternal grandfather lives.  We just went for a visit (honestly we don’t get up there enough) and to start helping him look through his stuff because he is most likely moving to an assisted living facility.

So while Andrew took his grandfather’s floor-plan map and measured his furniture to see what was doable in the new place, I got to hang out with said grandfather and chat family tree!  I also got to check out some amazing pictures.

4 generation picture (1895, Plymouth, Indiana) - Back row standing: Maude (Yazel) Seymour, Nancy (Hippert) Yazel (Maude's Mother). Seated: Peter Hippert (Nancy's father), Edna Faye Reed (Maude's daughter and Andrew's great-grandmother)

This above picture was my favorite for one great big obvious reason (hello Beardy McBearderson!) but it’s also interesting  because it is one of those multi-generational pictures that people still take today.  Peter Hippert died just four years after this picture was taken.  Chances are that not many, if any, exist of him before this time.  Peter also did not live in Plymouth.  He still lived in Auglaize County, Ohio at this time.  He was just on a visit, which was probably quite the little journey at that time.

Earlier in the day, when we first got to the house, I mentioned our timetable and said that we might be stopping at a cemetery on the way out of town.  Andrew’s mom decided we should all go and have a little adventure.  She asked her dad, “Are you up for an adventure?”  He answered, “Well, yeah.”  And an adventure we had.

We all piled into the little Pontiac and headed out of town, toward a very small town called Bourbon, Indiana.  Actually, we weren’t headed for Bourbon, we were headed for outside of Bourbon.  The goal was Mount Pleasant Church of the Bretheren.

Andrew’s family on both sides were mainly Church of the Bretheren, and this area of Indiana is full of these little churches.  Unfortunately, according to Roy (the Grandfather), this one will be closing in the fall.  I might have to find out if they have any church records before things get handed off to ‘who knows where’.

Thanks to Google Maps and www.findagrave.com we were able to find the cemetery easily.  When we left the house in Plymouth we were all a little worried about the heat and how Roy would feel outside for so long.  As we drove the temperature dropped…and dropped some more.  We were followed by dark, menacing clouds the whole way.  When we got to the cemetery it was cool and breezy, still humid but so very comfortable.  The clouds were pretty much coming straight for us.

I knew we didn’t have much time, so I started snapping pictures of any headstones with Seymour, Stockman, or Yazel.  These are all names in that branch of Andrew’s family.  I even made sure to get a couple family pics.

From left to right: Gloria (Reed) Nelson, Andrew Nelson (posing?), and James Roy Reed. Visiting Mount Pleasant Cemetery.

The older part of the cemetery was across the street.  Roy was convinced that some of the earlier family members were buried over there, including Peter Hippert and a George Washington Seymour.  I don’t know anything about this GW’s plot, but I did find out that Peter is actually buried at a Horn Cemetery in Ohio.

Andrew and I headed back to the newer section, and immediately a lady in a fabulously comfy looking ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ T-shirt came out of her house next door to tell us that the weather map showed some nasty weather almost right on top of us and she didn’t want us stuck out there.  She said there would probably be hail.

Andrew’s mom rushed to get the car turned around so Roy could hop in.  The sprinkles started the second we got in.  We decided maybe would be a good time to eat, but we would have to get to a restaurant first.  This required driving through what looked like some sort of hell-mouth.  We did it, well Gloria (Andrew’s Mom) did.  The darkest part of the storm wasn’t nearly as horrible as it looked.  It was sort of downpour-y though, and when we got to the restaurant (where I proceeded to consume more carbs than I had in weeks combined) all of us got soaked.

We headed back to the house for a few minutes before we went along on our way back to Indy.  I sort of wish we had looked at a weather map before we left.  The “hell-mouth” we drove through earlier was nothing compared to the near-firestorm we drove through to get home.  I don’t know that I’ve ever driven in a lightning storm that was so prolific.  There was literally lightning every single second for about 15 minutes straight.  Once we finally got out of the storm it followed us home the rest of the way, behind us by about a few miles.  This is what it looked like the entire way home.  We were right on the border of heavenly and hellish weather.

The edge of the storm

I’m going to have to take a trip up north again, and maybe this time check the weather.

Black Sheep Sunday – Milo and Walter Long, the family murderers

I am writing today’s post in response to a blog writing prompt on www.geneabloggers.com, which is a great website devoted to providing ALL types of blogs about genealogy.  They suggest for a slow, lazy Sunday, to write about those black sheep of the family.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love black sheep.  What I love about my own family is that everyone seems to be a black sheep.  None of us are like each other at ALL and if we were in a normal family, we’d all be the total weirdos, cast off, like day old bagels.  But Andrew has got some nasty ones in his family.  Sometimes I just have to remind him, when I feel like maybe he’s forgotten, that he has murderers in his family and it runs in his blood.  He usually just rolls his eyes.  But I know deep down that he’s taking it to heart.

Andrew and I got married last year, after a lengthy courtship of like…7 years.  By the time we got to planning our honeymoon we were mostly thinking about a sensible trip.  Something that will be warm in December, but close enough that we won’t waste a ton of time traveling, and cheap enough that we won’t have to put anything on a credit card.  Well, two out of three ain’t bad.  We ended up in Saint Augustine, Florida, which we loved.  It was in this country so travel was relatively easy.  It wasn’t super expensive.  It was, however, freezing.  So all those nights we had planned to have drinks out on the deck of some precious tucked away bar fizzled when we got there.  So we spent a lot of nights in.

One night I got on the laptop (yes, we brought the computer on our honeymoon) and we were just sort of watching a House Hunters International marathon (so romantic, I know); and I was just messing about on Andrew’s tree as he was in and out of sleep.  I was doing the census record searches for a cousin of his, Milo Long, and it looked like he was in prison in Montana.

I was very confused about this and looked at the records and noticed a Walter Long as well.  Turns out they were brothers.  And they were actually in jail in Montana.  I just kept wondering how these two farmville Indiana boys ended up in a Montana prison.  After a short bit of research I came upon the answer!

Both Milo and Walter went after the family of John Hayes after a “claim dispute” in Montana.  According to the local paper, they had supposedly abandoned the claim, near Culbertson, Montana.  When they found out someone had taken up residence in that spot they headed over there and gave this man a warning.  The Long brothers, with up to 14 more ruffians, threatened the family and said they had 24 hours to get off the property.  24 hours later, they came back and the family was still there.  The group proceeded to shoot up the property, killing John Hayes and his 11-year old daughter, Augusta.

This is horrible, obviously.  But what I found amazing, was that there was only one census record of them in prison.  So I looked into it more and it turns out they were only sentenced to 13 years for the murder of two!  I guess that’s early Montana for you…

Milo and Walter were incarcerated at Old Montana Prison at Deer Lodge, which is now on the National Register of Historic Places.  The prison housed its first inmate in 1871 and closed up shop in the late 1970s.  There are all sorts of ghost stories attributed to the prison, but that’s nothing new for a prison, right?  Looks like the next time Andrew and I are visiting Big Sky country we might have to make a stop to see where his cousin’s hung out for a short time.  They have tours!

This is an older picture of the Old Montana Prison before it was shut down in the late 1970s.

Now, once they got out, Walter got married and had three kids (one of them, a girl, named Delight – I swear).  Milo got married a few times to a Helen, a Lola, and then a Nevada.

True to life Black Sheep here. I wish I had pictures of these guys.

Friends for Generations

We have some really good friends.  I am one of those people who when I find a good friend, I hold on to them.  What I have learned recently was one of the most adorable things I have ever seen, and it involves my husband and his friend.

So I LOVE getting people excited about genealogy, although it may be sort of a selfish thing.  I MIGHT automatically assume people will think less of me if they know that I’m interested in such a geriatric hobby, so I try to make it sound REALLY cool and hip.  However, when I get people excited I will often hear, “Well, let me know if you have time to work on my tree.  That would be cool.” And honestly, I kind of like it.  I love looking into other people’s histories, almost as much as my own, only because they are so different.  My friends, C-Dogg B-Dizzle and husband Ragin’ Nortron (names have been changed to protect the innocent), are two friends whose trees I am working on.  I must say, it is a nice diversion from my own.

I was working on Nortron’s tree the other day and made a lovely discovery.  When I look through census records I love to find out the actual home addresses of the people in the tree and put those addresses in my notes section.  Then if you want to pull up the address on google maps, it’s kind of awesome.

“Oh look!  This is where my ggg grandmother lived, and now it looks like a crack den!”  This happens a LOT.

So I was looking at Nortron’s gg grandfather’s (Arthur Jones) addresses in the actual copies of the census pages and noticed something interesting on the page.  I recognized the name under him.  Delmar Morts.  Hmmm….  I know there were Morts’s in my tree because of Andrew but I wasn’t sure if they were from Wabash, Indiana like this one.  So I switch trees, and what do you know.  Delmar and Arthur were neighbors!  Delmar was my husbands gg uncle!  Now…this wouldn’t be strange if any of us were from Wabash.  None of us were.  In fact, I don’t know that any of us have BEEN to Wabash.  Maybe, Ragin’ Nortron.  I can’t say.

My husband and Ragin’ have been friends for years, since we were all in high school together (WAY too long ago).  Ragin’ wooed and married a friend of mine and an old roommate.  They are now close neighbors to us and they are delightful friends.  I wonder if Delmar and Arthur were good friends.  I’m just going to assume they were… and sigh a lot, thinking about how precious it all is.

Cole Porter's Cousin in Peru

I was stuck.  A man sat across from me.  I didn’t know how name.  I wasn’t sure how he was related.  But I believe I was listening to his entire family history (which was long…considering he was in his mid-80s).  When we got to the story about how he saw Cole Porter once because his cousin lived across the street from his apartment in Peru I began to wonder, “How did I get sucked into this?”

Andrew’s Reed family was having a reunion up in good ol’ Bremen, Indiana.  No one knows where Bremen is, so when I attempted to describe it’s location, I said, “Plymouth, Indiana is the nearest bustling metropolis”.  It’s in northern Indiana, not quite “the region” but pretty close.  Much of the Reed family has hailed from this area, in or around Marshall County, for generations.  Marshall County is where Andrew’s mom grew up.  So I thought this would be a great opportunity to meet some of the older people in the family who I haven’t met and who might have some info for me that I could add to the tree.  I had no idea what was in store for me there.

It started out with the usual Reed atmosphere.  Lots of nice people and good food (mostly carb-based).  I usually leave an event in northern Indiana feeling very bad about myself and what I had consumed.  I like to pretend that the drive back to Indy actually burns calories.

Soon after the eating Andrew’s mom comes up to me and tells me she was talking to a man about the family’s history and he said that so and so was a colonel in the American Revolution.  Well….I needed to talk to this man.  Take me to him!  She took me to a very nice man.  I showed him the very vague print out I brought with me and merely asked him to look it over to tell me if there were any glaring issues.  He seemed very excited about my tree and said there were names on there he hadn’t really seen yet.  Then he asked if I wouldn’t mind talking to his dad.

I should have known better when it took about 3 minutes to break into the conversation that he was already having.  His son said, “Hey.  Dad!” about twelve times before he decided to acknowledge his presence.  He said, “This girl here is working on the family tree and wanted to know if you could see if what she has so far is right.”

He did!  He checked out the tree.  It looks like I’m on the right track.  That took like 5 minutes.  I talked to him for another 55.  No no….that is wrong.  He talked to me for another 55 minutes.  At least.  I’m not sure what he was talking about for most of it but here is some of what I learned about: the entire history of the state of West Virginia, Cole Porter’s headstone in Peru, Indiana, how many branches of the name Smith are really out there (countless), bodies of water in northern Indiana, and various “scandals” within his family.

I glanced around every so often for help.  I was trying not to be rude but he was talking to me with CONSTANT eye contact.  I could have been handcuffed to the picnic table and my level of “trapped” would have been exactly the same.   Finally Andrew’s mom caught my crazed and anxious glances.  She ran over.  Ok, maybe it wasn’t a run, but she got to my side very quickly (she is truly a gem) and attempted to break into the conversation.  It took almost another 10 minutes for her to help me get out and away from that table.  When I asked for his email address we got a long story about how his email address came to be.  ::sigh::

We finally exchanged names after speaking for over an HOUR and were on our separate ways.

I finally left the table and immediately reprimanded Andrew (probably unfairly).  “Didn’t you see me over there?!?  I kept looking over here! Thank god your mother saved me!” He responded, “I thought you were just learning lots!”  Or something along those lines.  He really was a very nice man.  I shouldn’t have been so peeved, but I had truly become claustrophobic in a open-sided park shelter.  I didn’t even know that was possible.

As Andrew was packing up drinks into the car his new iPhone fell out of his front pocket and sort of broke, a lot.  Ugh.  He had it much worse than I did.

Overall the reunion was great.  I wish I hadn’t been sucked in for so long because I wasn’t able to talk to the rest of the fam that we don’t see very often, but the food was good.  I felt like after that conversation I deserved all those chocolate peanut butter crispie treats.  I earned it.

A Long Darke Trip (Part 2 of 2)

Over the course of a couple of weeks after my summer trip to New York and DC I decided that I would create a Google map to identify important places in mine and Andrew’s family history.  This would be birthplaces and deathplaces (addresses if possible) and cemeteries mostly.  I had a fun time watching my map take shape and actually seeing the pattern of migration across the country.  I divided it into four different colors, one for my mother’s branch and then father’s, and then the same for Andrew’s side.  The reason I decided to put this together was to create something easily accessible for when we were out on a trip and had a little extra time.  This happened while we were in DC and I had a hard time finding a place I wanted to stop because there was no easy way to find all my important locations along a course from DC to Indianapolis.

Does this make me a nerd?  Potentially.

Anyway…

I used my fabulous Google map after my trip to Garst Museum to find homes and cemeteries in the area where I could find my peoples.

Andrew had  great great great grandparents who lived and died on Water Street in Greenville.  I drove past the address but it seems this house has been torn down and was replaced in the 1930s or 1940s.  There is a church still next door that seems as though it must have been there while that family was there.  I took an uneventful picture for Andrew’s mom along Water Street.

Water Street - Where John Clinton and Sarah (Sink) Crumrine resided

The connection to Andrew is as follows:  Andrew Nelson > Gloria (Reed) Nelson > Esther (Bolinger) Reed > Oliver E. Bolinger > Sarah (Crumrine) Bollinger > John and Sarah (Sink) Crumrine.

I also knew there were some family members that I couldn’t figure out and I wanted to check some of the smaller pioneer cemeteries in the area.

A lot of my peoples come from Neave Township in Darke County so I looked up a couple of the cemeteries around there and went searching for my surnames.  I started out in Oak Hill Cemetery in Fort Jefferson.  I’m not sure if Fort Jefferson is a town, village, or what.  It’s small and as far as I could tell there weren’t any stoplights.   I found a few headstones, but I still haven’t managed to try and match it up with those in my tree.

I then drove by the park (that sits where the fort used to be) and noticed another small cemetery down the street.  This was a really small one next to a Methodist Church.  I parked and started walking the aisles of stones.  Unfortunately I could only read about 50% of the inscriptions.  What I found very interesting was that some of the oldest ones were the easiest to read.  My only assumption was that it was harder stone.  I would like to know what they carved some of those very early headstones from.

As I was finishing my self-guided tour an older gentleman with a cane yelled from the road, “You finding what you’re looking for?”  I have to say that throughout this ENTIRE day I had about ten people ask me this.  People were so friendly and helpful.

I told him that I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for, but that I had some surnames that I was hoping to find.  I did find one or two in this small pioneer cemetery.  I found a Nyswonger.  It’s spelled a little differently than some of my peoples but it’s possible they’re still related.  Spelling in the 1800s seems to have been an afterthought.

Thus began the hour long conversation with the friendly neighbor.  He told me ALL about this street and what it used to look like when he moved here.  He bought this house over 50 years ago with his wife, Bert (Roberta) who just died two years ago, just sitting in the kitchen after breakfast.  He took me on a tour of his amazing garden.  His Asian Pear tree was spectacular and I suggested he try to sell them in Greenville.  He says he already does that, and smiled proudly.  He told me about his kids and his grandkids.  When he found out I was from Indianapolis he told me about all of his hiking adventures in Brown County, Indiana.  He was in a hiking and camping club.

One thing I had been wondering for a couple years now about this area was why does everyone have a metal roof.  It’s the opposite of how it is here.  When you drive around in Indy, almost everyone has shingles.  If you see a house with a metal roof it’s kind of rare.  In old-town Western Ohio if you see a house with shingles it’s rare.  Almost everyone has a metal roof.  I asked the man why he thought that would be.  He says, “Well, they’re more expensive but they last longer.”  This wasn’t an answer.  I asked, “Well, is there a state tax deduction or something for installing a metal roof?”  He said that there was nothing like that.  So….I’m still stumped on the roof issue.

After about an hour of chatting he reminded me that it was just about dinner time and I might want to head home.  He walked me to my car and saw me off.  He was very sweet.  I never even got his name, but I know where he lives.

A Long Darke Trip (Part 1 of 2)

I am in the middle of a little bout of unemployment.  I have some part-time work I have been able to do on the side, but mostly I am without work.  While having mini adventures during this time makes me feel guilty, so does sitting around looking for jobs and not finding anything.

So a few weeks ago I decided to travel out to Darke County, Ohio.  I believe it was a Tuesday.  Much of my family came from Darke County and the surrounding areas.  Oddly enough, Andrew’s mother’s side also had a chunk come from the same area.  I have looked hard to make sure there are no overlapping relations.  We’re all good here, kids.

I have a grandmother still in Dayton and I can’t tell you how many times I have driven to Ohio on I-70.  I wanted something more scenic, so I had an amazing drive across State Road 36.  I picked it up in Pendleton and took it almost all the way to Greenville, Ohio.  It was humid and early when I left which created this beautiful haze over the massive sprawling yards and farms almost the entire duration of the trip.  Taking 36 was a fabulous idea.  Good job, me.

I got to Greenville just in time for lunch and had a lovely meal at Bistro Off Broadway.  They did give me a weird look for eating alone, but maybe I was being self-conscious (but I don’t think so).

I headed to Garst Museum, an amazing little museum for the history of Darke County.  This is also the place where one researches the county’s family histories.  It’s the place to be.  When I walked in I paid my $5 and was told that there were two exhibits going on at the museum, one on Annie Oakley and one on Lowell Thomas.

This was great!  Annie Oakley is actually of distant relation to Andrew!  Lowell Thomas was actually my great-uncle (by marriage)!  I decided that I should get started on research first.  A small, fast-speaking, older woman gave me the instructions on how to begin.

Sign here.  I signed.

Write down the surnames you are researching.  Oh….hmmmm….lots?

It didn’t occur to me that I couldn’t just sort of browse and have things come to me.  My father’s side of the family and Andrew’s mother’s side have so many families from that area I wasn’t sure where to begin.

Let me show you.

Erin’s fams (surnames):  Brown, Munn, Ditmer, Hill, North, Surber, Niswonger, Staudt, Fryman, Harnsberger, Beam, Miller, Goings/Goins/Goens, Davidson, and Cartwright

Andrew’s fams (surmanes):    Bollinger, Crumrine, Bausman, Sink, Blocher, and Michael

I started with just two surnames on my side, Brown and Munn, and then one surname for Andrew’s, Bollinger.  I started with these names because I actually know people with these names.  I thought it might be a little easier.

I only had four hours till the museum closed for the day.  I started with Browns.  BAD IDEA!  I could spend an entire day on just the Browns.  TONS of information.

This was my first trip to a research facility to work on just family history.  I realized how much more information I could get if I travel.  Man…I have found the best hobby EVER.

There was only one other person who was in there the majority of the time with me.  About two hours into my research he says to me, “You’re not supposed to take pictures in here.” He did this mid-snap.  I gasped.   I’m not generally a rule breaker.  “Oh, but I thought I was allowed!”  And then he laughed at me and said he loves doing that.  Turns out I really wasn’t supposed to be taking pictures, but I don’t think he cared.  I didn’t read the instructional sign correctly.  Woops.

He asked me how my research was going and what names I was looking for (ancestry pleasantries).  I asked him if his family was from Darke County.  His wasn’t, but his wife was.  He explained to me that he is an author and that he was writing a book about a distant relative of his wife (I believe it was a great great uncle), last name Roberson.    This distant relative was the only man hung in Darke County, Ohio.  I was so excited to reveal my connection!  “That’s great!  My great great grandfather was deputized to find the only man hung in Darke County!”

It’s true.

Turns out that this man I was talking to in the museum was the writer of the article where I learned this little tidbit of information.  He said that after that article came out he started hearing from people all over the area with their own little tidbits of information.  He decided to write a book about it!  I can’t wait to read it.  I believe his name was Bill Stevens (the writer, not the hanged).  The link to the article written about this interesting event in Darke County History is included here:

http://dailyadvocate.com/main.asp?SectionID=108&SubSectionID=388&ArticleID=129708&TM=43764.42

The writer left.  I was alone again for a while and dug through folders till it was time to pack up.  I decided that I wanted to take a look at the museum’s exhibits before I left (I HAD paid to get in).  I walked through Annie Oakley’s and realized there was much too much to see in the 15 minutes I had.  Seems she was an amazing lady.  A good shot, anyway.

I walked into the next room and found a room dedicated to an exhibit of Lowell Thomas.

I didn’t know who Lowell Thomas was until I graduated from college.  In fact, the only reason I knew then was because he was an answer to a crossword puzzle from an antique magazine we were playing with at work.  The question was something about Lawrence of Arabia.  The answer was “Lowell Thomas” and I was like, “That’s my uncle!”  People just kind of looked at me in a sort of way that said, “Why is Erin so excited that she has an uncle named Lowell Thomas?”  And I kept going. “THAT Lowell Thomas is my uncle!  I swear!  My dad told me he was famous but I didn’t believe him!”

That’s the truth.  I was always suspicious of exaggerations, and assumed that this was one of my father’s.  But this is the truth.  My great aunt Marianna, a very interesting, friendly, and lovely lady who passed away earlier this year, married this Lowell Thomas in the 1970s after his first wife died.  She had also been previously married.  He didn’t live much longer and died in the very early 1980s.  If I ever met him (doubtful) I would have been much too young to remember such things.

So, for those of you who don’t know who Lowell Thomas is…

http://www.pbs.org/lawrenceofarabia/players/thomas.html

As I walked through the exhibit there were pictures of my Aunt Marianna in her younger years with this Lowell fellow.  Honestly I don’t remember ever seeing any of them before.  I turned a corner and there were condolence letters written to her upon his death from an assortment of characters:  Ronald Reagan, Art Linkletter, Isaac Asimov, and even Erma Bombeck.

Condolence letter from Reagan sent

Lowell and Marianna Thomas on Trip to China

Condolence letter from Isaac Asimov

It was a little surreal.