Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Passages: Alfred Joseph Austin, Jr., 1947-2018


AJ Austin
1947-2018

Another one of my mother's brothers - Alfred Joseph Austin, Jr. - passed away last month on March 12th, in Lillington, North Carolina. He was 70 years old and I had not seen my "Uncle Al" in several years. He retired to North Carolina and I believe the last time we got together was in the summer of 2003 at my Uncle Jerry's home in Fleischmanns, New York. This was while my mother was still alive.

You can read the obituary for AJ Austin at the O'Quinn-Peebles-Phillips Funeral Home website by clicking here.

© 2018, copyright Thomas MacEntee. All rights reserved.

Friday, May 5, 2017

Passages: Josephine Eleanor Austin DeStefano, 1937-2017

Thomas MacEntee (l) and Joe'l DeStefano (r)
Chicago, IL - August 2016

One of my mother's sisters with whom I was quite close just passed away this Tuesday, May 2, 2017. Known as "Joe'l" - a shortening of her given and middle names Josephine and Eleanor - Joe'l DeStefano (Austin) was much like all of the Austin girls including my mother Jacqueline.

I remember my Aunt Joe'l's flaming red hair; her husband, my Uncle Jerry, and their children; the tiny apartment in Jersey City, New Jersey; and all the Italian food! We often spent weekends with them after a two hour drive down from "the mountains."

I also remember the summers we spent at Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, and when she'd come to visit me in Washington, DC. I last saw her in August 2016 when she came out to Chicago for my wedding celebration.

How can you put into words how much you'll miss someone and how painful it is to see your the oldest generation in your family slip away?

You can read the obituary for Josephine Eleanor DeStefano in the Asbury Press (New Jersey) by clicking here.

© 2017, copyright Thomas MacEntee. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Passages: Judith Frances Austin, 1938-2015

Judith Frances Austin, 1938-2015

I found out last Saturday, December 12, 2015, that my Aunt Judy had passed away . . . on November 29th.  In fact, I found out the same way most of my family did: from a phone call long after she was dead and buried. In fact, if it hadn't been for a family member driving by the cemetery last week, and seeing fresh flowers and a new grave next to Judy's husband's grave, we would have no idea that she had passed.  A nice way to inform the family, right?

As for my Aunt Judy, I had no knowledge of her existence while growing up. When I asked what happened to her, my mother said that she "ran away" when she was young and the family was always looking for her. So Judy was my "missing aunt" up until about 1991 when I received a frantic call from my mother one evening.

"I found Judy!" she said while crying over the phone. I couldn't believe it. After almost 35 years with no contact, my mother located her long lost sister. And she did it the way I as a genealogist would have done it: she used an obituary.  For some reason, Mom read the obituary for a Joseph Froehlich in Honesdale, Pennsylvania and a wife was listed as "Judith Austin." So that evening my mother hopped in her car and drove several hours to Connecticut where she found out that Aunt Judy's son was living. She knocked on the door and saw her sister for the first time in over 30 years.

Within a few weeks, my mother arranged for a reunion with the remaining brothers and sisters in June 1991. It was held at our house and was the first time in over 30 years that all 12 siblings had been together.  There were many tears and stories shared that day.

I can only imaging how overwhelmed my Aunt Judy was. I have located a letter she wrote to my mother on June 28, 1991, after that reunion:

I know your [sic] not home from vacation yet, but I wanted to talk to you. My head is still spinning from Saturday, no it isn’t the booze. I normally don’t drink, but I was so nervous, WOW, all of my sisters and brothers were there, and seemed so very happy to see me. I still can’t believe everyone wants me. How strange life can be, it takes away something that means everything to you and give you something that could mean as much.
I have to admit, my son and daughter-in-law love you. They think you are great. They want me to invite you to come here for a few days, or a day. Whichever you want. I do want you to come, whenever you like. I don’t plan on spending too much time at my home in PA, I can’t yet. It’s going to take some getting use to – it was Joe’s favorite place of all the one’s we lived in. He was happiest when there. He never wanted to go anywhere, not even to town once a week. I guess he felt secure when away from people. He fussed something terrible when I went to work but had to accept the idea after awhile.
Well, I can’t put everything I want to say on such a small sheet of paper. So, I’ll just have to come visit you one day or evening so we can talk about how ours [sic] lives were after I left home.
Hope you enjoyed your vacation and left some of Washington DC for me to see when you and I go.
Will call on Monday the 1st.
Love, 

Judy 
* * *

There are many more details to the story, including the reasons for her disappearance, but in order to protect the privacy of family members, and out of respect for my family, I can't post them here. What I do know is that Aunt Judy came into my life in the early 1990s and made up for lost time: she was fully integrated in the family and loving life with her seven sisters and four brothers. She will be missed.

© 2015, copyright Thomas MacEntee. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Can You Really Trust That Cause of Death?


Last night, 7 January 2014, we sat and watched The Poisoner's Handbook, an episode of the American Experience series on PBS. I strongly recommend that every genealogist and family historian working with death records watch this episode to gain a better understanding of how "unnatural" deaths were investigated at the turn of the 20th century.

Some interesting information that I did not know, was that in New York City, a coroner's position was considered a patronage position. This meant they could influence which funeral home handled the remains and even how the circumstances of the death and the cause of death were handled in the coroner's report and resulting death certificate.

The Poisoner's Handbook traces different types of poisoning crimes and explains how two pioneers - Charles Norris and Alexander Gettler - changed the entire science of how causes of death were investigated and reported. In fact, some of Gettler's research - especially that of carbon monoxide poisoning - is still used almost 80 years since its first publication.

So while go back and look at some of my early New York City death certificates in my research, take a look at this excellent film:
© 2013, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Passages: Gregory Edward Austin, 1927 - 2013


The last of a generation in my family has passed: my great uncle Gregory Edward Austin on 24 November 2013 at Elk Grove, California.

Gregory Austin was born in 1927 in New York City, the son of John Ralph Austin and Therese McGinnes Austin. I have fond memories of Uncle Greg; there are so many of them that it is difficult to choose just a few.

My first memory is a visit to Grahamsville, New York from California where he was living. Greg moved out to the San Francisco Bay Area after his service in the United State Army. He married, had children and built a life out West which meant his visits back East were special occasions! Not only did I get to see Uncle Greg but it offered an opportunity to see some of my other cousins, aunts and uncles at the same time. I do remember that on one summer visit, he convinced my mother to go with him to "crash" some of the resorts in the area (the Borscht Belt) and go folk dancing. And Uncle Greg also introduced us to guacamole (homemade, of course), which was still a novelty on the East Coast in the early 1970s.

Uncle Greg was an engineer and helped design the underground communications systems employed at BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) when it was first built in the 1960's. He continued to do freelance at work for BART even after retirement.

I got to know Uncle Greg better when I lived in the Bay Area during the 1980's and 1990's. Often I would house sit at his place in Fremont before he and his wife moved up to Santa Rosa.

Uncle Greg was smart, funny and was a beloved member of my family. He will be missed.

© 2013, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Passages: Joan Kathleen Austin, 1936-2013

Joan Kathleen Austin - 1936-2013
I found out this evening that my mother's oldest sister, Joan Kathleen Austin, had passed away peacefully late this afternoon. Like my mother, she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease and her condition took a sudden turn over the past few weeks.

It would be easy to sit here and write about the toll that Alzheimer's has taken on my family. I've written about it several times and the post that best describes the impact of the disease can be found here. I would much rather focus on my aunt's life and how she impacted my own life.

Aunt Joan was someone who I saw on a regular, at least monthly, basis while growing up.  My first memories are visiting her and my Uncle Bill when they lived down in Hackensack, New Jersey. There were many weekends spent at their home - one visit I remember vividly is when Hank Aaron hit his record breaking 715th home run. It was at my aunt and uncle's house that we all watched that historic moment.

Soon she and Uncle Bill moved up to Wurstboro, New York which was much closer, yet they kept their jobs in New Jersey and commuted every day.  I don't know how they did it, but you knew better than to call or visit after 8pm because they were up and on the road each morning by 4:30 am for the long drive to New Jersey!

Aunt Joan was always indulgent - she was like a grandmother who didn't refuse you when you wanted another cookie or wanted to do something fun. She was also crazy - as in wacky - she had no "filter" and was very unpredictable. It was always fun to be around her and she always made you laugh or at least shake your head in amazement.

I will miss her. She was a big part of my family and rather than remember the ravages of a hideous disease, I choose to hold close the best memories I have of her and of her life

© 2013, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Advent Calendar 2011 - Death Doesn't Take A Holiday


[Note: This post originally ran during the first Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories in December, 2007

Funny how you sit down to write about one topic and then it is taken over by another that is more important. This one started out about wills and estate planning, then and now. I'll save that topic for a later date. Today I had to "stop for Death" as Emily Dickinson once wrote. He was too important to ignore.

I am sitting here ready to post after a rough day but one that has really emphasized to me the "cycle of life." While I'm all hopped up and ready for the holidays, Christmas trees, baking, seeing friends and family, at the same time I am dealing with loss and death on many different levels. Death doesn't take a holiday. But if it does, some years it seems like my family is its prime vacation spot.

Yesterday, while I was in the middle of writing out my estate planning details, I received news that one of my partner's aunts was declining quickly. She had been quite ill for months and at a stage where hospice care was brought in to care for her last days at home. And then the call came about 5:30 pm that she had passed on. Her sister had just passed away during this year's Easter holiday.

This post is not about death but more about remembrance and ways we can embrace and cherish those memories. This post is really more about pausing and recognizing the cycles of life and how they seem most evident when a death occurs around a holiday such as Easter or Christmas.

Death amid a time of joy tells me that death is just a part of nature, it is part of what should be expected but is not always anticipated, it gives meaning to holidays and to life. If we had no sorrow, no loss, no death, we'd have no touchstones with which to measure our joy. Joy would be a constant, a flat line with no spikes and simply rendered a non-emotion.

But why do our losses seem more obvious when we should be filled with the holiday spirit? I know that last week's holiday was rough for those of us with recent losses and not so recent losses. Holidays emphasize togetherness and family for many of us, and the absence of a loved one during this time seems more intense, and the separation more vivid and painful.

I caught myself on Thanksgiving Day wanting to call Mom and ask if she watched the Macy's parade while she was stuffing the turkey. This was our ritual, our nod to continuity from year to year, something she and I shared. With phone in hand, I started to dial and then I remembered: she wasn't home stuffing a turkey or over at one of her sister's houses. She was in the nursing home this year. Maybe she was watching the parade, but the Alzheimer's would make sure she couldn't remember it even 15 seconds later.

So, I paused and put down the phone. I put my hands back in the bowl of stuffing. And I remembered for her. I remembered holidays, turkeys, and parades. I remembered learning how to make this exact dish that I am literally up to my elbows in. And I cried. And then I laughed because how can you wipe a tear when your hands are practically breaded and battered?

Sure, a cycle ended when I couldn't experience that holiday tradition this year. But cycles that seem to halt their movement - frozen in time - allow new cycles to begin. I now make stuffing with my own family in Chicago. I now call Mom on holidays and try to help her remember.

There will be many tears shed by me this holiday season. And that's not a bad thing, really. The tears tell me that a memory had meaning, that loss is real, that a loved one was important, that death hurts, that a ritual was worth repeating even to the point of aggravation, that there will be new tradtions in the years to come, and that more loved ones will all too soon be missing at the table.

That piece of a life is gone, and it isn't ever coming back. Choose to chase after it, blindly follow its path, and forget the life and rituals going on right now around you. Or choose to embrace its memory, wrap it around you like a colorful and warm Mom-made afghan, and make it live by telling it to others in your family.

This is what we do. We are family historians. We engage in The Telling. In a way, we bring life to the dead and memories to the living.

Photo: grave of my great-grandparents,John Ralph Austin and Therese McGinnes Austin. Grahamsville Rural Cemetery, Grahamsville, New York. My great-grandfather died two days after Easter, 1988.

© 2011, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Passages: Gerard F. May

I just found out that my uncle, Gerard F. May, passed away last Wednesday, September 14, 2011 in New Milford, New Jersey. Known to the family as "Roddy," he was born on November 16, 1933 and married my mother's half-sister Anna Patricia Larson on January 21, 1956.

They lived for many years in New Milford, New Jersey and I have fond memories of trips down to their house from where I grew up in Liberty, New York.  My aunt Pat was the first of her siblings to be diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease and passed away on October 12, 2006 at age 73.

Both my aunt and uncle were involved with the Catholic Church especially with the Knights of Columbus. I enjoyed spending time with them and for me they were, and continue to be, part of my memories of home. I offer my condolences to their children Dee, Fred and Gerard. The obituary can be viewed here.

© 2011, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Advent Calendar 2010 - Death Doesn't Take A Holiday


[Note: This post originally ran during the first Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories in December, 2007

Funny how you sit down to write about one topic and then it is taken over by another that is more important. This one started out about wills and estate planning, then and now. I'll save that topic for a later date. Today I had to "stop for Death" as Emily Dickinson once wrote. He was too important to ignore.

I am sitting here ready to post after a rough day but one that has really emphasized to me the "cycle of life." While I'm all hopped up and ready for the holidays, Christmas trees, baking, seeing friends and family, at the same time I am dealing with loss and death on many different levels. Death doesn't take a holiday. But if it does, some years it seems like my family is its prime vacation spot.

Yesterday, while I was in the middle of writing out my estate planning details, I received news that one of my partner's aunts was declining quickly. She had been quite ill for months and at a stage where hospice care was brought in to care for her last days at home. And then the call came about 5:30 pm that she had passed on. Her sister had just passed away during this year's Easter holiday.

This post is not about death but more about remembrance and ways we can embrace and cherish those memories. This post is really more about pausing and recognizing the cycles of life and how they seem most evident when a death occurs around a holiday such as Easter or Christmas.

Death amid a time of joy tells me that death is just a part of nature, it is part of what should be expected but is not always anticipated, it gives meaning to holidays and to life. If we had no sorrow, no loss, no death, we'd have no touchstones with which to measure our joy. Joy would be a constant, a flat line with no spikes and simply rendered a non-emotion.

But why do our losses seem more obvious when we should be filled with the holiday spirit? I know that last week's holiday was rough for those of us with recent losses and not so recent losses. Holidays emphasize togetherness and family for many of us, and the absence of a loved one during this time seems more intense, and the separation more vivid and painful.

I caught myself on Thanksgiving Day wanting to call Mom and ask if she watched the Macy's parade while she was stuffing the turkey. This was our ritual, our nod to continuity from year to year, something she and I shared. With phone in hand, I started to dial and then I remembered: she wasn't home stuffing a turkey or over at one of her sister's houses. She was in the nursing home this year. Maybe she was watching the parade, but the Alzheimer's would make sure she couldn't remember it even 15 seconds later.

So, I paused and put down the phone. I put my hands back in the bowl of stuffing. And I remembered for her. I remembered holidays, turkeys, and parades. I remembered learning how to make this exact dish that I am literally up to my elbows in. And I cried. And then I laughed because how can you wipe a tear when your hands are practically breaded and battered?

Sure, a cycle ended when I couldn't experience that holiday tradition this year. But cycles that seem to halt their movement - frozen in time - allow new cycles to begin. I now make stuffing with my own family in Chicago. I now call Mom on holidays and try to help her remember.

There will be many tears shed by me this holiday season. And that's not a bad thing, really. The tears tell me that a memory had meaning, that loss is real, that a loved one was important, that death hurts, that a ritual was worth repeating even to the point of aggravation, that there will be new tradtions in the years to come, and that more loved ones will all too soon be missing at the table.

That piece of a life is gone, and it isn't ever coming back. Choose to chase after it, blindly follow its path, and forget the life and rituals going on right now around you. Or choose to embrace its memory, wrap it around you like a colorful and warm Mom-made afghan, and make it live by telling it to others in your family.

This is what we do. We are family historians. We engage in The Telling. In a way, we bring life to the dead and memories to the living.

Photo: grave of my great-grandparents,John Ralph Austin and Therese McGinnes Austin. Grahamsville Rural Cemetery, Grahamsville, New York. My great-grandfather died two days after Easter, 1988.

© 2009, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Passages - Malcolm Austin


I just got word this morning that my great uncle, Malcolm Austin, passed away in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on Friday, December 3, 2010. In the above photo from about 1934, he is in the front on the right.

Malcolm Justin Austin was born in Manhattan, New York in 1929 and spent time growing up in Grahamsville,  New York. He was the youngest son of John Ralph Austin and Therese McGuiness. 

My memories of Uncle Mal, as he was called, were of him living with his family right above my great-grandparents house over in Grahamsville, New York. I'm not certain when he moved to Pennsylvania but I believe it was in the late 1970s. The last time I saw him was in 2005 at one of our family reunions.

From the information I received, Mal was cremated and a memorial service will be held in the future.

Photo: Gregory, Alfred and Malcolm Austin, abt 1934, location unknown. Digital photograph. Privately held by Thomas MacEntee, [ADDRESS FOR PRIVATE USE,] Chicago, Illinois. 2009.

© 2010, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Grave Curioisities Infographic

An interesting "infographic" called Grave Curiosities about burial customs here in the United States:

Grave Curiosities
Via: Funeral Flowers at iMortuary.com


© 2010, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

June Austin Finkle 1944 - 2009

On my way home from California - where I had spent Christmas - I received a note from my uncle with the subject line "Some Sad News" and I froze.  Sitting in the Santa Ana airport, I paused before opening the message wondering who had died - my mind immediately went there and not other types of bad news.

Once I learned that my Aunt June had passed, I called my uncle who had all the details about his sister and what had occurred unexpectedly earlier in the morning.

* * *

Here is the obituary for June Austin Finkle from the Times-Herald Record dated 29 December 2009:

June Finkle of Livingston Manor passed away on Monday, December 28, 2009 at home. She was 65.

June was the daughter of the late Alfred and Anna Henneberg Austin, born on July 30, 1944 in Jersey City, NJ.

All that knew June knew she was one-of-a-kind. She was a great person with a big heart. The memories June leaves behind are priceless and will never be forgotten. June was a great person all around. She will be sorely missed.

She leaves behind her three loving children: Judith Camara, Vernon Finkle Jr., and Arthur Finkle; six grandchildren: June, Lee, Christina, A.J., Dakota and Anneliese; three great-grandchildren: Ashley, Amber and Glenn; four brothers: Larry, Lee, Alfred and Lem Austin; five sisters: Joan Toher, Joel Destefano, Judy Froehlich, Jacqueline MacEntee and Jennifer Startup, along with many nieces and nephews and a very close family friend, Paul Tuggle. June was predeceased by two sisters, Patricia May and Julia Jackson.

Donations may be made in June's name to the American Heart Association, 7272 Greenville Ave., Dallas, TX 75231.

On Wednesday December 30, there will be a celebration of June's life at the White Sulphur Springs Fire House at 1 p.m.

Arrangements by Herbert C. Bryant Funeral Home. For further information, please call 845-439-4333 or visit our website at www.colonialbryantfuneralhome.com.

* * *

My memories of Aunt June are many and what I remember most was this: while she had all the same characteristics of most of the Austin siblings, she was unique.  Both gruff and endearing at the same time - if that is possible and it was possible with her.  She often said the things that only people thought but dare not say and often said them in public.  In your heart you knew she was right and you also wished you had her courage to say it.  Pity the poor store owner or anyone else who tried to put one over on Aunt June - not only did they hear about it, but half the county did as well.

And for a woman whose heart just simply gave out, you know it was a big heart, a full heart and one that always gave.

* * *

I want to thank all my genealogy colleagues who have touched me with their condolences and their kind words through emails, Twitter, Facebook and more.  As Denise Olson of Family Matters said today in her post entitled Sympathy, we - the memory keepers, the ones who bear witness to what our ancestors and families once were - know that each and every passing matters.  This is why we work to write their stories, to preserve their thoughts and words, and to bring them back to life if even only for a brief sparkling moment.

Rest well Aunt June and know that you will not be forgotten.

© 2009, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Advent Calendar - Death Doesn't Take A Holiday


[Note: This post originally ran during the first Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories in December, 2007

Funny how you sit down to write about one topic and then it is taken over by another that is more important. This one started out about wills and estate planning, then and now. I'll save that topic for a later date. Today I had to "stop for Death" as Emily Dickinson once wrote. He was too important to ignore.

I am sitting here ready to post after a rough day but one that has really emphasized to me the "cycle of life." While I'm all hopped up and ready for the holidays, Christmas trees, baking, seeing friends and family, at the same time I am dealing with loss and death on many different levels. Death doesn't take a holiday. But if it does, some years it seems like my family is its prime vacation spot.

Yesterday, while I was in the middle of writing out my estate planning details, I received news that one of my partner's aunts was declining quickly. She had been quite ill for months and at a stage where hospice care was brought in to care for her last days at home. And then the call came about 5:30 pm that she had passed on. Her sister had just passed away during this year's Easter holiday.

This post is not about death but more about remembrance and ways we can embrace and cherish those memories. This post is really more about pausing and recognizing the cycles of life and how they seem most evident when a death occurs around a holiday such as Easter or Christmas.

Death amid a time of joy tells me that death is just a part of nature, it is part of what should be expected but is not always anticipated, it gives meaning to holidays and to life. If we had no sorrow, no loss, no death, we'd have no touchstones with which to measure our joy. Joy would be a constant, a flat line with no spikes and simply rendered a non-emotion.

But why do our losses seem more obvious when we should be filled with the holiday spirit? I know that last week's holiday was rough for those of us with recent losses and not so recent losses. Holidays emphasize togetherness and family for many of us, and the absence of a loved one during this time seems more intense, and the separation more vivid and painful.

I caught myself on Thanksgiving Day wanting to call Mom and ask if she watched the Macy's parade while she was stuffing the turkey. This was our ritual, our nod to continuity from year to year, something she and I shared. With phone in hand, I started to dial and then I remembered: she wasn't home stuffing a turkey or over at one of her sister's houses. She was in the nursing home this year. Maybe she was watching the parade, but the Alzheimer's would make sure she couldn't remember it even 15 seconds later.

So, I paused and put down the phone. I put my hands back in the bowl of stuffing. And I remembered for her. I remembered holidays, turkeys, and parades. I remembered learning how to make this exact dish that I am literally up to my elbows in. And I cried. And then I laughed because how can you wipe a tear when your hands are practically breaded and battered?

Sure, a cycle ended when I couldn't experience that holiday tradition this year. But cycles that seem to halt their movement - frozen in time - allow new cycles to begin. I now make stuffing with my own family in Chicago. I now call Mom on holidays and try to help her remember.

There will be many tears shed by me this holiday season. And that's not a bad thing, really. The tears tell me that a memory had meaning, that loss is real, that a loved one was important, that death hurts, that a ritual was worth repeating even to the point of aggravation, that there will be new tradtions in the years to come, and that more loved ones will all too soon be missing at the table.

That piece of a life is gone, and it isn't ever coming back. Choose to chase after it, blindly follow its path, and forget the life and rituals going on right now around you. Or choose to embrace its memory, wrap it around you like a colorful and warm Mom-made afghan, and make it live by telling it to others in your family.

This is what we do. We are family historians. We engage in The Telling. In a way, we bring life to the dead and memories to the living.

Photo: grave of my great-grandparents,John Ralph Austin and Therese McGinnes Austin. Grahamsville Rural Cemetery, Grahamsville, New York. My great-grandfather died two days after Easter, 1988.

© 2009, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Thursday, September 24, 2009

An Unusual Funeral Card





[This post was written for the October 2009 Edition of the Graveyard Rabbits Carnival.]

I've written before here at Destination: Austin Family about funeral cards and the collection I've amassed over the years. Some of the cards are from the funerals of relatives where I was in attendance but the majority are from funerals which took place way before I was born.

One such example is the funeral card for my 1st cousin twice removed, Matthew McCrickert. Most funeral cards are in color and became popular with the advent of lithography in the late 1800s. They are commonly known as holy cards or funeral prayer cards since there would be a short prayer printed on the reverse and an image of Christ or a saint on the front. I remember finding these used as bookmarks by both my great-grandmother Therese McGinnes Austin and my mother over the years.

In the early days the cards would not be available at the funeral itself, but distributed by the family of the deceased at a later date. Only with modern advances of printing would the cards actually be available at the funeral home. Many of the modern cards in my collection are also laminated.

The card for Matthew McCrickert is unusual in that it is a bi-fold card and contains a small photo of him - the photo taken when he started his military service in the U.S. Army shortly after World War II. Matthew died in a military plane crash at Freehold, New Jersey on June 11, 1946 during a violent thunderstorm.

I'm curious if anyone else has similar funeral cards in their collection? Does anyone know how these were produced? I am assuming that a salesperson contacted the family of the deceased (getting the contact info from the funeral home) and sold them these cards. Any further information that I can add would be appreciated.

Photo: Funeral Card of Matthew McCrickert. Digital photograph. Privately held by Thomas MacEntee, [ADDRESS FOR PRIVATE USE,] Chicago, Illinois. 2009.

© 2009, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Friday, July 10, 2009

Respect For The Dead

The past fews days have not brought good news for those who work hard to preserve cemeteries and other places where our ancestors are buried:

- In Oxford, Alabama as I write this a 1,500 year old Indian burial mound is being desecrated so it can serve as fill for the construction of a Sam's Club.

Oxford, Alabama Destroying A 1500-Year-Old Indian Mound To Build A Sam's Club

State Laws Offer Few Protections For Mound

- In Alsip, Illinois (outside of Chicago), four people have been charged with the uprooting more than 300 bodies and dumping them in a corner of the cemetery in order to resell the burial plots.

4 charged. 300 graves desecrated

Till's kin on neglected casket: Get it out of here

Cemetery workers made $300K in gravedigging scheme

Parents can't find graves in Burr Oak 'Babyland'

What these stories have in common is that greed seems to triumph even after death. As the saying goes you can't take it with you, but now you can't even rest in peace.

Terry Thornton of Hill Country of Monroe County, Mississippi has highlighted the Oxford, AL story and I've been helping him publicize it. The best way for you to get involved as a reader is to tweet this blog post or any of the links included here if you are on Twitter. Or e-mail the post to someone you know who is a fan of cemetery preservation.

For genealogy bloggers, try to take a minute and think about how you would feel if your ancestors were involved in one of these awful situations. In order to keep the preservation of burial locations in the forefront of peoples' attentions, consider posting at your blog about how important cemeteries and other burial sites have been to your family and your genealogy research.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Not So Wordless Wednesday

On Wednesday I posted a photo of our friend Greg Anstett who was killed by a hit-and-run drunk driver last December right around the holidays. I posted the photo, not because it was his birthday but because the young woman who killed Greg on December 23, 2007 accepted a plea bargain and reduced sentence yesterday in San Francisco Superior Court this week.

I’ve held off on posting about Greg and his death not because I wanted to let the shock and pain of someone being killed at the young age of 51 and in such a hideous manner mellow into just a haunting memory. I did so since I did not want to unduly influence any court proceedings and jeopardize justice.

Samantha Osborne, 25, pleaded guilty in exchange for an expected sentence on October 22 of five years probation. The charges to which she entered the plea are a felony charge of hit-and-run resulting in death and a charge of vehicular manslaughter that was changed to a misdemeanor. This was Ms. Osborne’s third set of charges in a hit-and-run, DUI suspected case – she has had two other incidents with surpisingly similar circumstances.

In addition to the probation, Ms. Osborne will need to serve a 180 day sentence of home arrest, 90 days at a “work alternative program” and 720 hours of community service. If the terms of her probation or sentencing are violated, the result will be a state prison sentence without trial.

I don’t know how to feel right now at what should be closure on the loss of a friend. I think back to those days around December 23rd when no one could locate Greg who, although not always punctual, would never, never stand someone up or disappear without calling.

I received a call from a good friend who was supposed to meet Greg for dinner and he was a no show. After many calls and a few hours of waiting, the friend – who is 91 and lives a few blocks from Greg’s apartment – took it upon himself to see if something had happened. When he arrived at the apartment, he could see that Greg had not returned home from being out the night before. And so the process of calling hospitals and local police agencies was taken up by several friends.

On Christmas Eve, I got a call from another friend who sounded frustrated and exasperated: he had just returned from the Hall of Justice in San Francisco where the police department is based. He attempted to get some information but since he was not a family member, all he was told was “there was a violent incident involving Mr. Anstett” and no information as to whether Greg was dead or alive, or in a hospital.

So, Christmas Eve afternoon yours truly was in front of a computer at home scouring online lists, crime data and news articles. Finally, I spotted an item which made my heart sink:

License Plate Leads To Fatal Hit-And-Run Suspect

SAN FRANCISCO -- A 23-year-old woman who fled a fatal crash in San Francisco over the weekend was found by police a short time later because she left her front license plate at the scene of the crash, a San Francisco Police Department spokesman said.

The crash took place at about midnight Saturday night at the intersection of Van Ness Avenue and Post Street, when a green Jeep Cherokee driving southbound on Van Ness Avenue struck a man as he was walking in the crosswalk, according to Sgt. Neville Gittens.

Greg Anstett, 51, of San Francisco, was pronounced dead at 12:10 a.m., according to the medical examiner's office.

It was not known whether Anstett had a green light to cross the road at the time of the crash, according to Gittens.

There were no witnesses to the crash and the driver continued on, but police found the Cherokee's front license plate at the intersection, Gittens said.

About 20 minutes later, officers stopped the Cherokee a short time later at Eighth Avenue and Geary Boulevard, according to Gittens.

The driver, a Novato woman, was detained and released pending further investigation, Gittens said.

Officials have not released her name or whether drugs or alcohol were involved in the crash, Gittens said.

The woman, who was the only occupant of the Cherokee, has not yet been charged, he added.
[2]

While I was still digesting and processing news that was difficult for me to understand let along relate to another friend, I picked up the phone. I struggled to break the news to my friends, especially my elderly friend for whom Greg had been the sole caretaker for several years. When one of our friends Larry answered the phone, I told him that Greg had been in an accident and was hit by a car on Saturday evening. Larry kept asking where Greg was, which hospital since they had already called all the possible places in the city. I kept repeating that Greg had passed away but it wasn’t sinking in on the other end. Finally Larry said, “So where is Greg,” and I had to say, “At the morgue, Larry.”

Knowing our friend Greg, and how he and his energy were the focus of any event he attended, we made the decision to stick with our Christmas Eve events at the homes of friends and families that night although the mood was understandably subdued.

While some of the facts of what this woman did, or better yet did not do, don’t merit mention due to their lack of humanity, I think it is important to question how such a terrible accident and the subsequent attempts at cover-up could take place:

- Sarah Osborne who hit and killed Greg Anstett was spotted as a solo driver at the time of the accident but 20 minutes later she was pulled over by police with two passengers in tow;

- Sarah Osborne was not given the standard sobriety tests which would normally be mandated in such an event;

- Sarah Osborne’s father, is a retired instructor for the San Francisco Police Academy and such a relationship seems to have warranted “special handling” of the case;

- Sarah Osborne was allowed the luxury of spending the holidays with her family before being charged with the accident while Greg Anstett had the luxury of spending them on a cold steel table while his friends and family tried to find him.

Greg’s death and the frustrating process of trying to locate him, not knowing he was dead, spurred me to become involved with Unclaimed Persons on Facebook. Created by Megan Smolenyak Smolenyak, Unclaimed Persons works with volunteer researchers, many of whom have genealogy backgrounds, and assists coroners’ officers across the country in locating the next of kin for decedents who have identification on them when found, but no obvious family to claim their remains.

I’ve become a Case Administrator which means I post case details and help shepherd the case through the process of research, analyzing facts, establishing connections with living relatives, and making a strong case to have the coroner’s office contact these relatives. Some cases are solved in a matter of hours, others weeks or months. Unclaimed Persons assists county and local agencies who either don’t have the resources due to budget cuts, or the expertise in on-line people research.

So this week, when I found out that we had solved not one but two cases, I do what I always do when I get the news: I take a moment to be thankful that our work helped someone to finally “make it home,” I think about how sad it must have been for someone to receive that call, and I cry just a little – admittedly sometimes a more than a little – at the fact that someone had to make the passage from light to darkness without the comforting hand of a friend or family member. And I always think of Greg.

Notes

[1] “Guilty Plea in Hit and Run,” accessed on September 18, 2008 at (http://www.ebar.com/news/article.php?sec=news&article=3325).

[2] “License Plate Leads To Fatal Hit-And-Run Suspect,” accessed on September 18, 2008 at (http://www.ktvu.com/news/14920011/detail.html).

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Obituary Photos

There seems to be a raging discussion in the Dear Abby column today as to the use of obituary photos in newspapers and whether a photo should be "current" or show the deceased in the prime of their life.

For years, I was of the belief that the photo should be current but now that I've been exposed to more and more family photographs and reading blogs such as Shades Of the Departed, I am in agreement with most people: photos from the deceased's "prime of life" time are much better.

When newspapers first started running photos in obituaries (and it is a money-maker since it increases the cost of the announcement), I thought it was misleading to see a photo of an 84 year old woman that looked as if she were 34. Thinking that Cher had nothing on this woman, I would usually have to reread the obituary to make sure the age at time of death wasn't 48 instead of 84.

And putting aside valid reasons such as there not being any current photos of the deceased available, as I grow older I can see the wisdom of using a photo from the earlier years of the departed. In my mind, I often see myself as 25 or 30 and not my current mid-40s age. And as the aging process progresses, I'm sure I will keep this perspective.

An obituary for many is not just an announcement of one's passing. It is a short summary of one's life - achievements, successes, losses, battles - and should sum up the "essence" of that person.

Look at the poll in the upper right about this topic and cast your vote. And - if you could select one photo that depicted your "essence," which photo would that be?

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Memorial Day: Soft Power vs. Hard Power

As we come up on Memorial Day and I think about my relatives and ancestors who sacrificed their lives during military service, I always begin to ponder the "why" behind such service. There are times when a country just has to use "hard power" vs. "soft power" and I don't think I could explain it better than this segment of a speech by Gen. Colin Powell on January 26, 2003:

The United States believes strongly in what you call soft power, the value of democracy, the value of the free economic system, the value of making sure that each citizen is free and free to pursue their own God-given ambitions and to use the talents that they were given by God. And that is what we say to the rest of the world. That is why we participated in establishing a community of democracy within the Western Hemisphere. It's why we participate in all of these great international organizations.

There is nothing in American experience or in American political life or in our culture that suggests we want to use hard power. But what we have found over the decades is that unless you do have hard power -- and here I think you're referring to military power -- then sometimes you are faced with situations that you can't deal with.

I mean, it was not soft power that freed Europe. It was hard power. And what followed immediately after hard power? Did the United States ask for dominion over a single nation in Europe? No. Soft power came in the Marshall Plan. Soft power came with American GIs who put their weapons down once the war was over and helped all those nations rebuild. We did the same thing in Japan.

So our record of living our values and letting our values be an inspiration to others I think is clear. And I don't think I have anything to be ashamed of or apologize for with respect to what America has done for the world.

We have gone forth from our shores repeatedly over the last hundred years -- and we’ve done this as recently as the last year in Afghanistan -- and put wonderful young men and women at risk, many of whom have lost their lives, and we have asked for nothing except enough ground to bury them in, and otherwise we have returned home to seek our own, you know, to seek our own lives in peace, to live our own lives in peace. But there comes a time when soft power or talking with evil will not work where, unfortunately, hard power is the only thing that works.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Obit Madness - Oh No She Didn't!

Another great obituary. From The News & Observer, Raleigh, NC:

ON JUNE 3, 2005 at 10:45 p.m. in Memphis, Tennessee, Dorothy Gibson Cully, 86, died peacefully, while in the loving care of her two favorite children, Barbara and David. All of her breath leaked out.

The mother of four children, grandmother to 11, great-grandmother to nine, devoted wife for 56 years to the late Ralph Chester Cully and a true friend to many, Dot had been active as a volunteer in the Catholic Church and other community charities for much of the past 25 years.

She was born the second child of six in 1919 as Frances Dorothy Gibson, daughter to Kathleen Heard Gibson and Calvin Hooper Gibson, an inventor best known as the first person since the Middle Ages to calculate the arcane lead-to-gold formula. Unable to actually prove this complex theory scientifically, and frustrated by the cruel conspiracy of the so-called "scientific community" working against his efforts, he ultimately stuck his head in a heated gas oven with a golden delicious apple propped in his mouth. Miraculously, the apple was saved for the evening dessert. Calvin was not.

Native Marylanders and long time Baltimore, Kent Island and Ocean City residents, Ralph and Dot later resided in Lakeland, Florida and Virginia Beach, Virginia. Several years after Ralph's death, Dot moved to Raleigh in 2001, where she lived with her son, David.

At the time of her death, Dot was visiting her daughter, Carol in Memphis. Carol and her husband, Ron, away from home attending a "very important conference" at a posh Florida resort, rushed home 10 days later after learning of the death. Dot's other children, dutifully at their mother's side helping with the normal last minute arrangements - hospice notification, funeral parlor notice, revising the last will, etc. - happily picked up the considerable slack of the absent former heiress.

Dot is warmly remembered as a generous, spiritually strong, resourceful, tolerant and smart woman, who was always ready to help and never judged others or their shortcomings. Dot always found time to knit sweaters, sew quilts and send written notes to the family children, all while working a full time job, volunteering as Girl Scout leader and donating considerable time to local charities and the neighborhood Catholic Church.

Dot graduated from Eastern High School at 15, worked in Baltimore full time from 1934 to 1979, beginning as a factory worker at Cross & Blackwell and retiring after 30 years as property manager and controller for a Baltimore conglomerate, Housing Engineering Company, all while raising four children, two of who are fairly normal.

An Irishwoman proud of and curious about her heritage, she was a voracious reader of historical novels, particularly those about the glories and trials of Ireland. Dot also loved to travel, her favorite destination being Eire's auld sod, where she dreamed of the magic, mystery and legend of the Emerald Isle.

Dot Cully is survived by her sisters, Ginny Torrico in Virginia, Marian Lee in Florida and Eileen Adams in Baltimore; her brother, Russell Gibson of Fallston, Maryland; her children, Barbara Frost of Ocean City, Maryland, Carol Meroney of Memphis, Tennessee, David Cully of Raleigh, North Carolina and Stephen Cully of Baltimore, Maryland.

Contributions to the Wake County (NC) Hospice Services are welcomed. Opinions about the details of this obit are not, since Mom would have liked it this way.

Friday, May 2, 2008

Obit Madness - Ida Mae Russell Sills

At first, I thought for sure this was a hoax. So I went to Snopes where I verify all Internet items which cast a dubious shadow. I could find no reference to the dear Ida Mae Russell Sills. I did a bit more sleuthing and found an article which gave background about the true and correct paid death notice. In addition, there is a Legacy.com guest book about Mrs. Sills which is quickly filling up. See the links at the end of the obituary for more information.

From The Memphis Flyer, Memphis TN:

Sunday, April 13, 2008

IDA MAE RUSSELL SILLS began this world as Betty Jean Cherry, the daughter of Howard Cherry and Betty Thompson of Middle Tennessee. In the 1930s it was unthinkable for a child to be born to a single mother. The Thompsons contracted Georgia Tann at the Tennessee Children's Home. Georgia, now famous for selling babies, found a couple who was willing to purchase the child. Everett and Elsie Russell were chosen, who had already adopted one high profile Memphis baby. The Russells renamed their new baby Ida Mae.

Ida Mae had a rich but strict childhood. Ida graduated from Messick High School in 1950 and attended Memphis State University. Ida married High School friend, Karl Hadaway. On January 31, 1953, a child was born named Mary Denise. The marriage decayed and the couple divorced in 1954. Ida's marriage to Karl was a three ring circus, engagement ring, wedding ring and suffering.

Ida met and married Albert Sills in 1960. Ida said "I never knew what real happiness was until I got remarried, then it was too late." Ida Mae and Albert settled down in Fox Meadows area of Memphis. Albert wanted a son, Ida wanted a dog. Ida quoted "with my way we just ruin the carpet." But on March 6, 1966, a son was happily born named Lee.

Albert and Ida owned several dry cleaners and restaurants. Owning your own business with your spouse in the best of times is challenging. Ida worked all day as a Supervisor at the phone company, she would come home and prepare a home cooked meal for the entire family. She managed to pay all the bills, balance the books of the family business and at the end of a long day still be a supporting mother and loving wife. Ida said "Children grow up so fast they're like sand held in your hand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. The minute you close your hand and squeeze tightly to hold on, the sand trickles through your fingers."

Ida grimaced daily with anticipation of what her gifted children would bring home and ask "Mom can I keep it!" For Lee it was stray animals but Ida's daughter Denise, well she brought home a steady stream of poor hungry musician friends (are there any other kind). No one was ever turned away or left hungry. It is still a mystery how Ida fed, supported and influenced so many individuals on her budget. At Ida's house gravy was a beverage.

Albert retired in 1985, Ida said "great I now get twice the husband and only half the income." Lee went off to college and Denise got married and had a son named Josh. Ida retired from Ma Bell in 1989. After a long illness, Albert passed away from lung cancer.

In Ida's spare time she became an assistant coach to the University of Memphis Tigers, The Memphis Grizzlies, The LA Lakers and The Miami Heat, if not in reality in her mind. As a professional armchair consultant to the NBA, Ida was nicknamed Hoop Mama Two. Ball handling and dribbling was Ida Mae's biggest weakness.

If Albert was the frog prince, Ida was certainly the frog queen. Ida loved and collected frogs from all over the world. Ida moved to Waverly Gardens with her dog Raven where she made a lot of new friends.

Ida developed a cold that progressed into pneumonia. Now Ida was a smoker. She said "to quit smoking well that's easy. I ought to know. I have done it a thousand times" but the years of smoking left Ida's lungs damaged and beyond repair. On this Good Friday March 21, 2008, Ida Mae Russell Sills slipped away and joined her beloved daughter in Heaven. Fortunately her husband Albert preceded her and joined his mother in a much warmer climate.

Ida leaves behind a best friend Betty Brown of Memphis. Few people in this world are privileged to have such a beloved sister. They had many adventures, loves and tragedies over their 70 years of friendship and sisterhood. Ida also leaves one of her greatest joys, her grandson Josh. Josh has been the light of her life since his birth. Ida regrets not being here to influence his future children, but she will be watching.

Ida lost her daughter Denise Sills Barnes 2 years ago. Denise was a successful local Memphis singer and musician and was a manager with Nike for 15 years. Ida also leaves her son in law Roland Barnes, an engineer with Federal Express. Roland has been devoted when many would have moved on after their wife's death. And finally she leaves her son, her baby Lee. Lee lives in Orange County California and is President of Kredit Banque.

Ida influenced so many people, too many to list. Ida is now a falling star who has finally found her place next to her daughter in a lovely constellation, where she will sparkle in the heavens forever. In Lieu of flowers please give the gift of life to Saint Jude Children's Hospital in Ida's name. There will be a celebration of life, Saturday April, 19 from 4:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. at Waverly Gardens on Knight Arnold Road.

More on the Ida Mae Russell Sills obituary

Ida Mae Russell Sills Guest Book on Legacy.com