Showing posts from April, 2010

Time Travel

My 40th high-school class reunion is next year and so recently I've found myself searching through Google and Facebook for those kids with whom I shared the happiest memories of my childhood. From the third grade until my senior year, I lived in Dallas, Texas but moved to California in 1978 after the birth of my son. I'd really not been back since. The first person I found was Judy Bridges. Judy now goes by "Judith" or "Kate" and teaches English and drama at the Hollywood High School of the Performing Arts. She's still beautiful, but I don't know that I would have recognized her had we passed on the street. My recollection is of a willowy 18-year-old with long blond hair and John Lennon glasses. I found her on Facebook: Kate's hair is still blond, but cropped and my guess is that she wears contacts. Since then, other classmates have contacted me with funny stories, remberances prompting me to dig out my old scrapbook. A genalogical dig into m


The past couple of days I've traded researching family for researching resources. General housekeeping such as downloading and printing blank census forms, request forms for military and vital records, updating correspondence records and research calendars, and clearing my family junk file. The latter is the most time consuming, least interesting, but most important. Sometimes when I get a lead from a source not directly related to my parents, I'll throw it in a general research folder. I've learned to attach a post-it note to the item to remind myself where it originated and why I thought it important at the time. For example, the last time I visited the Fayetteville Library's genealogy archives, I found a book entitled "Missouri Pioneers, County and Genealogical Records," compiled and published by Nadine Hodges in August 1973. My maternal ggg-grandfather, Andre Roy is listed as receiving a land claim from Francois Duquette (lower fields St. C-St C.)in Dece


For the past week, I've logged into my blog site and stared at the blank page, thinking. Somedays, the words simply don't come. Still, I think it important to go throught the exercise; sit, paper and pen in hand and let your mind wander. Tonight when Walt came in from work, we debated on what to do with the evening: music? a movie? We opted for a quick to run to WalMart for beer (him) and wine (me) and an evening on the deck gazing out over our "postcard." Postcard is what we call our home. The sight off our upper balcony overlooking Lake Ann is very much what you'd find in the postcard rack of any local Walgreens drugstore: the occasional blue heron skimming the lakeshore. The lone fisherman silently trolling his way to the harbor. We milked the remaining strains of daylight afterwhich he retreated to his music studio to compose and I to the library, to write. I logged onto Facebook instead. Janelle Chandler was online. Janelle and I had been in Ms Trantham&