When I Grow Up

Shifting Roles

By Kimberly Yavorski July 22, 2015 Uncategorized

When I wrote about endings, I was thinking of the next generation, the upcoming one, who are no longer children. About the end of a chapter in their lives, and mine. In focusing on that bittersweet fact, I neglected to realize that this also means that the other generations are also changing.

In the span of three weeks, my three “chosen families” have experienced significant loss. The first was the family I have mentioned before, the family that has adopted and been adopted by my family. Three of my “cousins” lost a beloved father last month. Just a few days later was my own dear father-in-law, and just last week, the mother of my closest friend, one whom I consider in every way to be my sister from different parents.

As one could imagine, we are all reeling from these losses. I know they say that death comes in threes, but never before have I experienced three losses in so close a personal way. Three weeks, three parents gone, a dozen children and their families in mourning. It is all, quite simply, overwhelming.

It is an unfortunate fact that the older we get, the more people we lose. Generations slowly slip away, and before we realize it, WE are the older generation. This is a sobering thought. I have noticed my advice being sought out more often, and being told that it is valued, but does that make me what would have been referred to in older times, “one of the elders,” someone who is “older and wiser?” Honestly, I am not sure I like that idea.

Responsibilities are shifting. Where once I went to older family members for comfort and advice, they are now also seeking it from me. I find this a bit disconcerting. I am happy to help, but this doesn’t seem to be the way things should be. I am not ready for that role – that is much too “grown up.”

And the Endings Begin

By Kimberly Yavorski June 5, 2015 Uncategorized

Last night we had our Girl Scout troop’s last Court of Awards and Bridging Ceremony. Four young ladies were “inducted” to the vast group of Adult Girl Scouts. (We have one girl who has another year of Girl Scouts, but council rules dictate that a troop needs to have more than one girl, so she will become “Independent” for the next year.)

Preparing for last night was difficult for me, for various reasons. This particular group is not big on ceremony and we have run things very informally. (In fact, inscribed in the card they gave me last night was this: “We are grateful. As a leader you reminded us there must be Laughter, Excitement, Acceptance, Determination, Encouragement and Ridiculousness.”) Although I recognize that the initial letters influenced the word choices, the Ridiculousness seems terribly appropriate. This informalness made many of the traditional ceremonies seem stuffy and forced, or on the other hand over-the-top sentimental and just plain mushy. My other issue, of course, is my own sentimentality. Not only have I grown very attached to this goofy crew whom I have gotten to spend the past 6 to 8 years with (not counting my own daughter of course), this also marks the end of a 13 year run as I hang up my leader hat, at least for a little while.

Over the past week, I have gone through countless photos, choosing which ones to include in a slide show commemorating the girls’ Girl Scout careers and it has been fun watching them grow up all over again. They have pushed and challenged me and I have learned as much from them as they have from me. We have had adventures, such as zip lining and white water rafting (3 times) and some frightening moments, such as watching them fall out of the raft, into the raging river, relying on others to help them out of the water, knowing that I had to make sure the rest of the girls in the raft stayed safe (and that I had to stay there as well to avoid total panic). There have been challenges, such as starting cooking fires in the rain, hiking back to camp through downpours (knowing that there was a tornado watch in the area) and the inevitable issues that come with having several strong personalities in one group. In recent years, our biggest challenge has been scheduling. This is a very accomplished group with very diverse interests who are always busy. Despite this, I had well over 200 slides of photos (with more than one photo on most slides) documenting our adventures.

I have known for some time that last night would be tough for me. I am very proud of these girls and the smart, accomplished young women they have become. As is true with all girls I know who have graduated from the program, they will go on “to make the world a better place.” But, I will miss them. Even the way I had a tough time getting them focused on a task or even getting a word in sometimes. Over the years, they have at times been difficult, but they have made me smile, and even laugh out loud – A LOT!

I will also miss helping them plan events and watching as they figure things out, such as how to set up a tent or adapting when an essential item is left off the camp shopping list, or even which direction to walk in the city to get to our destination. I think it is likely that I will be a troop leader again. In fact, my daughter is counting on it in the event she someday has daughters. For now, I will remain active in the area, supporting other leaders and maybe planning the occasional multi-troop event. Oh, and taking pictures. I love taking pictures.

Another Kind of Family

By Kimberly Yavorski May 21, 2015 relationships

For the past 13 years, I have spent a significant amount of time with a group of girls. The makeup of this group has changed over the years as has the number in the group. We started with 4, peaked at 22 and now have 5. More than 40 girls have come and gone. Some left when they graduated, others had scheduling conflicts or other activities took precedence, some simply lost interest.

I have managed to stay in touch with most of them, through Facebook, my daughters, or their moms whom I occasionally run into (according to my son, I spent 20 minutes catching up on a couple girls when I ran into their mom in the grocery store just last weekend). Some of the older ones have married, some have kids, and many have graduated college and went on to grad school or are out “in the real world.”

If our Girl Scout troop has had one constant over the years: it is that it has always been changing. Girls came into our family as they moved up from younger levels or joined as their existing troops disappeared. Each change brought challenges. The dynamics changed. When younger girls joined, the older ones were not always welcoming; the new girls were “immature.” After several months, things leveled out and they became “equals” in the eyes of the older girls. We experienced the occasional “clique-iness,” but overall, we have been mostly drama-free.

For the past few years, the membership has remained largely the same. We had a few girls graduate, but no one new join. This year, four graduate, leaving one to go on her own next year.

We just took what is likely our final trip together, into Philadelphia for dinner and a show. I noted at dinner how much of a family we have become. Here was a group of girls, with little in common, sharing (without asking first) each others’ dinners and desserts, laughing and teasing each other – like sisters. If it were not for the fact that they were thrown together in a troop, they possibly would not even be friends. Their interests are diverse. They are very strong young women, who generally like to voice their thoughts and opinions. They lead very active lives, which has made scheduling events difficult, (and infrequent) but they have managed to have bonding moments anyway.

We have laughed together and learned from each other. They have pushed me to try new things and we have encouraged each other to succeed. We have had adventures that have been a little frightening (we had a few people end up IN the Lehigh River while rafting), challenging (climbing and zipping through trees, climbing ropes at circus school) and just plain fun (feeding giraffes at the zoo, going to the movies and theater). Countless memories were made and thankfully, I have many of them documented in photographs.

Now we all move on … to discover new things. And, of course, to make the world a better place.

When the Journey Is the Goal

By Kimberly Yavorski May 12, 2015 Uncategorized

As life seems to spiral out of control, I am trying to slow down and enjoy the moments. Too often, we set our sights on a goal: achieving something, going somewhere, and neglect to appreciate what it takes to get there.

In recent months, I have taken a number of long trips visiting colleges. Being the passenger, I have had more opportunity to notice the surroundings and take note of whether there were any points along the way that would be worth stopping at should we have a future occasion to travel the same path again. In each case, I noticed some points of interest and hoped we would have a reason to be there again. In all likelihood, though, we will probably drive right on through each time.

Too often, the goal becomes so much the focus that nothing else is seen. In looking ahead to our destination, we put blinders on and miss out on what is in between. We are in a rush to get there. But what do we miss out on in the meantime? Each year, the world becomes a smaller place; the distance from New Jersey to California is now a small one. However, there is a lot of wonderful stuff between New Jersey and California. Should we miss out on all of it just because we can make the trip quickly?

In some cases, the rush is necessary. We have appointments or other timely commitments. But what about downtime? Do we even know what that is anymore? I have seen a commercial recently where children are berating adults for not taking vacation time. Though I cannot tell you what this is advertising, the sentiment is a powerful one. We need to take time, and more of it needs to be unplanned.

I have fond memories from my childhood of getting into the family car and driving, destination unknown. We would seek out the smallest roads, the small, squiggly lines on the road map, and got excited when we found one that was not on the map at all. We made it through most of a summer doing this almost weekly and discovered some wonderful restaurants, arcades, parks and even a small fair (which had added excitement when the power went out!). The journey WAS the destination. We had no plan, no agenda; we were just out for a ride. (Of course this was in the day of 88 cent a gallon gas.)

It was a simpler time. There were fewer distractions. Fewer billboards, fewer cars on the road, no technology in the car. On long rides, we amused ourselves playing word games, waving at truck drivers on the highway, or took a nap. We may have had a book, or paper and pencils (for playing hangman and building boxes), but for the most part, we saw the scenery and enjoyed time together.

We have become accustomed to life zooming past. Schedules are full. Having family members going in opposite directions and/or being double-booked is not an infrequent occurrence. We have gotten to the point that it is slowing down that takes effort, and planning.

Many people focus on where they want to be, not where they are. Take hiking. Some people set a goal: “I am going to hike 10 miles today” and then do it: hike ten miles, often at a fast pace, then celebrate the accomplishment (perhaps through an exercise app on social media). When I go hiking, I prefer to set a goal to work toward. Whether I actually reach it is not relevant (unless of course it means I would be sleeping on the trail if I didn’t). I hike for the experience. I want to see, smell, hear and feel my surroundings. I want to experience all that nature is offering. Reaching the end is sometimes a disappointment, because it means the journey is over.

I want to extend that idea to the rest of my life. I want to slow down. See and smell the roses, and the mountain laurel. Check out the roadside attractions. Follow paths to see where they lead. Explore state parks. Someday maybe take a cross-country road trip. Meet people. Talk to them. Share experiences. Try new things. Slow down, and just be.

The Pain of Surviving

By Kimberly Yavorski May 8, 2015 Uncategorized

I think it is time to address the other “elephant,” the one that has a hold of me that I cannot seem to shake – Guilt. Logic says that I shouldn’t be feeling this. I haven’t done anything to cause it, yet it is there, weighing on me, making me reconsider what is important. Since I did nothing to cause it, I am equally powerless to shake it.

I remember a similar feeling on September 11. So many lives were lost, none touched me directly, but I was overwhelmed by grief. How could I hope to have that feeling lessened when so many others would have to spend the rest of their lives coping with the changes that horrible act wrought on their lives. This is frequently referred to as “survivor’s guilt.” However, in this case, this name doesn’t quite seem to fit.

I seem to have been flooded lately with stories of mothers who have lost their children. It feels wrong that I go about my days, doing all the things that earn me the title “Mom” and feeling sad that they are moving away from me, on to college and their own lives. How dare I feel sad about something so trivial when there are those who will never have the chance to do the same, who have lost their children forever. How dare I complain about the carpools, the messy rooms, the teenage attitude.

A year ago, our family suffered a tragic loss. My beautiful niece, Marin Elizabeth, died, just 2 months before she was to be born. Her parents very generously allowed us to share their grief. Her mom was quick to acknowledge that we are grieving as well – for what was lost and for what could have been.

Demonstrating a strength perhaps even she had not known she had, her mom welcomed family and friends into her world, even offering all of us the opportunity to see and even hold her baby if we so desired. Many were surprised by this, as it is something so foreign and unimaginable. I was originally caught off guard, but quickly realized that it is really a perfectly natural thing to do. As a mother, I know that nothing could stop me from holding my child.

Prior to this, I had not really thought about the concept of sharing grief. Maybe she realized (as I now have) that grief, like love, expands, like ripples on a current, spreading and being enhanced as it grows. Thinking about it, isn’t grief really about love? Without love, would we care about loss at all?

Adults are not supposed to outlive their children. That is not the normal state of affairs. This death is difficult to comprehend, thus difficult to accept. It is painful to think about what could have been and more so to think about the reality. I know however that my pain pales next to that of her parents. I cannot begin to fathom the depth of their feelings. I am grateful that I was allowed into their lives and that they are letting us all take this difficult journey with them.

I think I may finally understand why some people memorialize deaths of loved ones. Personally, these are dates I don’t remember, preferring to think of deceased loved ones on their birthdays, which hold much happier memories for me. Some leave this earth too soon and do not have the opportunity to leave their mark – to make the world a better place. We need to make sure that there is some record for them, to mark their potential for greatness, that was stolen from them through no fault of their own. In a small way, this is what I hope to do here, to prove that Marin was here, that she was special, that she was loved.

Many good, kind souls have gone before her. Like her, they come, unbidden to my mind at random times (frequently in the middle of the night) and touch something deep inside me. Although I am struggling to comprehend what God’s plan could possibly be, I am confident that she is at peace and that we will be reunited someday.

Depression, Loss, Grief

By Kimberly Yavorski May 7, 2015 Uncategorized

It is curious that these topics keep on showing up: on my Facebook newsfeed, on TV, in the news. I have started writing about this, then abandoned the idea several ideas in the past few months. Among other excuses was the thought that expressing my opinions here might be considered “irresponsible.” I have been pondering this and reminded myself of my purpose in writing this blog and decided to go for it. With my very limited audience, I don’t think I have to worry that anyone will take my opinions as medical advice. The current atmosphere suggests that things should be out in the open, that we need to acknowledge things in order to accept them. This is also a step well outside my comfort zone.

There are some things in life that you just don’t understand until you experience them yourself. You may empathize with someone, you may think you know how it feels, but without the actual experience, you really don’t “get it.” Into this category, I would put childbirth, migraines and I would now add depression.

Everyone has heard (and many have seen) that childbirth is a painful process, and we have all heard about how you “forget” the pain (you don’t, you just decide that it was worth it). Given the nature of migraines, many people dismiss them as being a “bad headache.” (Nope, not even close.) And depression, well that is a big one and like many other things, experienced differently and to different degrees with influencing factors too numerous to list. Not only is there the stigma about anything related to “mental health,” there is also the idea that it is something that one can “snap out of” and that it is just being really sad.

“Really sad” is a fully inadequate term. It may describe some experiences of depression, but what I went through a few months ago was NOT really about being sad. Instead it was an overwhelming feeling of apathy, an emptiness, a hollowness that nothing could seem to penetrate. I would say it was more a lack of joy than an actual sadness. I knew what it was, I knew I was in a dark place, but didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. There were memory lapses that scared me (was I suffering early onset Alzheimer’s?) and I had frequent, debilitating headaches. It was the most unsocial holiday season of my life. After a few doctor visits and many tests, it has been determined that my brain is fine and the headaches were likely brought on by this depression.

Why did it start? Multiple factors were likely in play, with the loss of my dog probably a precipitating event (though it took well over a month after that happened to get to the lowest point). Why did it stop? That is even more of a mystery. While in this dark tunnel, I was convinced that there would be an end, that I would pull through and things would return to “normal.” (Normal is very much a changing state of being. Life events constantly bring on a new normal.) I knew I was depressed, but was not concerned that it needed any sort of intervention, that time would heal me. I have always been a firm believer that our bodies can overcome many ailments, if we let them (eating well, sleeping well – our bodies are designed to tell us what they need – we just need to listen).

That is where my fact-finding mission made me question things. When looking up major depression on medical websites (and yes, using their criteria, that is an accurate assessment of how I felt) all indications are that it cannot be “cured” without some sort of professional intervention. Knowing how serious this can be and possible repercussions of unrecognized/untreated depression, I wonder if that attitude is an instance of CYA in the medical community. I don’t doubt my “diagnosis” and know that I was not treated for it, it just went away on its own.

What I do know about depression is that is has given me a new outlook and appreciation for not having it. Over the next couple weeks, I felt stronger and more aware in general. It is almost as if I had forgotten what it feels like to be truly alive. Now, I feel energized, ready to take on challenges, dig deep, and get things accomplished. I also know that I would rather not go back into that dark place and will need to pay attention to early signs and make different decisions (like getting outside more and eating healthier, which I should be doing anyway).

It is an interesting coincidence that articles and blogs about depression and mindful living keep appearing. It may be that I am more in tune to them now or it may be that the climate is right for self-awareness in general. I think it is a very good thing that mental health issues are staying in the public eye. Every week I seem to see some new promising development addressing health issues relating to the brain.

Depression is frightening. It was to me and I am sure it was to my family who had to live through it with me. Like other brain issues, it varies widely from one individual to another. There is no one treatment that is right for everyone, nor is treatment always necessary. (The doctor referred to three months being “too soon” after my loss and explained that is why he held off on prescribing medication then. A month later, we determined that it was not needed.) It is possibly the only area in which doctors seem willing to admit they don’t know “why.” Treatment seems to be a “let’s try this” course of action. Web searches turn up more options than you can read through. As is true with many other ailments, exercise and a good diet can have positive results.

From my viewpoint, last year was a horrible year. Terrible things happened to people I love. There were many tests and trials and too many losses. I have felt that my loss is insignificant compared to that of others and that my reaction was disproportionate. An article I read recently hints that I am not alone in this feeling and that it is common among pet owners to not allow themselves to fully grieve, since it “was just a dog/cat/etc.” I have to say that I am a bit surprised, and very appreciative of the people in my life who have made a point to remind me that I did have a significant loss and need to go a little easier on myself.

I spent the last couple months of 2014 wishing it away and looking forward to 2015. The year is quickly approaching the halfway point (I am still wondering what happened to January) and so far it has been fairly uneventful, but very busy. I am trying to remember to slow things down; to notice and appreciate the little things; to find joy in the everyday. I am very good at reminding others to “Breathe.” I guess I need to remind myself too.

The Family We Choose

By Kimberly Yavorski April 24, 2015 relationships

girl-948250_1280 “Family” is a powerful word. It conjures up many images and evokes many feelings. It can be defined in various ways. Obviously, we are all born into a family. Most of us stay in that family, others become part of another family at a young age.

Then there is the family that we have with whom we share no genetic ties. This can be our choice in life partner and his or her family, who then also become our family. So far, this all makes perfect sense to most, but beyond that there are relationships that I have discovered some people really don’t understand.

Those of us who are truly lucky have others whom we consider family – close friends with whom we spend enough time that, when out in public, people assume are related to us based on the way we act. Those people whom we could not imagine life without; we just know they will be there – no matter what. Many of us have friends like this, those whom our children refer to as aunt or uncle. In my family (the biological one I was born into in this case) we have another whole family we refer to as aunts, uncles and cousins, just because it is simpler than trying to explain the origins of our relationships (and better explains the emotional ties we share).

Having four (almost) grown children with friends floating in and out of our house, and being a Girl Scout leader for more than 10 years, I also have grown attached to other children who have come into my life, ones that I would protect at all costs, as if they were my own. I am happy at their successes in life and worry about them when they are struggling. I am especially thankful that they let me into their lives and allow me to share their joys and sorrows.

Given how much non-biological family I have, one would think that I would not be surprised at how quickly another person could join this group. This morning I said goodbye to a teenager from France who spent the past week with us and almost felt like I was sending one of my own daughters off. We had a wonderful week, and I realized a couple days ago that I would miss her when she left, but it still caught me unawares.

I speak almost no French (I do like French food, so I know a few words). Our guest spoke some English, but we had a few hiccups as far as communication went. We played a bit of charades and at the grocery store, we did a bit of pointing at assorted items, and she giggled as we got her samples to try from the deli counter to decide what to buy for lunches. On both sides we frequently had puzzled expressions, then smiles as understanding struck. Overall, I think we got by just fine and enjoyed the week that went much too fast.

I feel privileged to have spent time with a few of the other visiting students as well and enjoyed watching the dynamics of two cultures coming together and sharing experiences. I saw girls who previously had only communicated via email and Facebook now sharing stories, jokes and smiles, like sisters. In conversations at our group farewell dinner last night, I learned that other parents had similar experiences as they joked about wanting to “adopt” these kids.

I also enjoyed the sense of order we had this week. Having a house guest somehow makes a difference in the “tidiness level” of the house. Things were put away with more regularity. Mornings went a little bit smoother. The week was virtually stress free (I guess this may be a bit unusual for having a house guest), though by mid week we were all going to bed a little earlier. We established a routine of sorts, even the dog greeted her each morning for a pat on the head and then again in the afternoon. Only the weather was uncooperative.

This morning was a little sad. Tomorrow will be different, like before. We will be a little less busy (just a little) and will speak only in English (well, that and the combination of other languages that frequently drift into our conversations). However, we will also be different because of this experience. I believe that we are touched by many people we encounter in our lives, which changes us in some way, forever. This is a good thing.

I know that the girls will keep in touch, at least for now (Facebook is wonderful for things like that) and hope that our paths will cross again.

Au Revoir!

I’m Back

By Kimberly Yavorski April 24, 2015 Uncategorized

This title is a little tongue in cheek, but true. Since I know that I have a few people following this, I feel I need to give some explanation as to where I have been all this time. The holiday season was a difficult one for me and I dropped out of sight for a few months. There have been some heath issues that I may or may not go into here, but as it turns out, nothing serious and I am back. Back to living, back to writing. Although I had seemingly abandoned the blog, I have been working on my book and am happy with the progress thus far (though I had hoped to be further along by now). I started working on a couple blog posts, but either wasn’t happy with them or wasn’t sure about posting with all the time that had passed (so I let more time pass – makes sense, huh?).

The past few months have been a blur. Though I have experienced senior year as a parent three times already, I forgot how much happens in so little time. Rereading my initial post, I note with alarm that I am much closer to that time when my day job becomes obsolete. Back in the fall, I stated a goal of posting more regularly. Then life got in the way. Let’s try this again.

Soccer Mom No More

By Kimberly Yavorski November 24, 2014 growing up, relationships

soccer mom no more Another milestone has passed. My youngest played in her last soccer game yesterday, a “friendly game” with teams composed of the seniors in the league. As it turned out, her team won – three times. This particular group of kids had no desire to see the end of the season, so after the team won in regular time, they played a “winner take all” overtime: 5 minutes, sudden death. Since they still hadn’t had enough, they then proceeded to penalty kicks, with each player taking a kick.

I have been a “soccer mom” for the past 15 or so years, since my second child came home from school with a piece of paper and declared that she wanted to play soccer. She had been kicking a ball around the playground at recess and wanted to be on a team. In the area we live in, soccer is commonplace. Where I grew up, soccer was virtually unheard of. I first encountered the game when I was in sixth grade and my small school got a “real” gym teacher (rather than the parent volunteers we had teaching us before). I quickly decided I liked the game, but played only in gym class. (These were the days that girl sports were limited – largely to basketball and cheerleading.)

Back to 1999 – the soccer sign ups were in the cafeteria of one of the local schools. We walked in, got a form to fill out and waited in line to turn it in. When we finally got to the front of the line, I was asked how I wanted to help. They really needed coaches. Really? Me? Coach a competitive team? I claimed lack of experience. Didn’t matter – how about assistant coaching? I was trapped and agreed.

Fortunately, that year all I needed to really do was to be a warm body to help corral 15 or so third grade girls. The following year, I was paired up with a great coach who was very good at mentoring and spent most of the season telling me I could be a head coach. Before I knew it, I became an assistant coach for my son’s team as well (I showed up to one of his games wearing my coaching shirt and they quickly asked me to fill in for a game the head coach could not make). Since my daughter’s team was older (and parents were getting more competitive), the following year, I stayed with the younger kids and then moved on to coach my youngest for her first couple years as well.

Coaching ended up being challenging, but very rewarding. Trying to convince four and five year olds to take turns and follow rules takes a lot of patience and a great sense of humor. Since my husband was already coaching two baseball/softball teams, I also took on T-ball and softball, which I loved as a kid, but played only in the street (at the time, Little League was still a boys club). Like soccer, it was fun when they were little, but as they got older, the parents sometimes created stress and I relinquished coaching responsibilities to those more experienced and chose areas more suited to my skills to volunteer my time.

It has been more than 10 years since I coached, but I have spent just about every Saturday from Labor Day through Thanksgiving on the soccer field, watching, cheering, and trying to stay warm (and/or dry). Some days we had four games to watch. In recent years, we had two kids on the same team and sometimes another on the sidelines, coaching. Fall weekends have been full, for the most part making one or more trips to and from the soccer fields. What will we do next year?

Although I have loved watching these games, I do have some ideas: leaf peeping, wine tours, road trips, fall festivals… Knowing our kids, though, our soccer days may not be completely over; we may boomerang back to the soccer field, to watch them coach.

Beginnings … and Endings

Family Historian

By Kimberly Yavorski November 15, 2014 family history

This is a role I have taken on in our family. It can be an overwhelming task, but is one I greatly enjoy. I have the family tree records and have been the happy recipient of various documents, photos and mementos.

This is a natural progression for me. My calendar has always been full and has been a resource to go back to when trying to decipher where and when things may have occurred. I have thousands of family photos (only counting the ones taken by me) and am usually the one people go to when they need a person, date or event identified. Birthdays and other significant dates stick in my head (again, I am the phone-a-friend when that information is required).

My dad’s family does not have much history here in the US. His father came to America as a child and his mother died young, so I have had little to go on in the way of family lore. Since I am a little intimidated by researching in Italy, and my mom’s (very colorful) family has provided a vast amount of lore, I have focused mainly on her branch.

My mom’s family of course, has to be difficult. Besides the fact that they were very big on nicknames (my dad thought she had about a dozen uncles instead of three), I have gone back a few generations and have not found an uncommon name anywhere! This is the family of Hopkins, Thomas, Robinson, Hall and (heaven help me) Smith! Now many of these names have a certain prestige and go way, way, way back in US history, but are those people, MY people? I recently came across a Facebook page that gave me some valuable information. As it turns out, the PA death certificates just went live online last month. AND, they are free to access for PA residents. This of course meant that I got lost in history, and managed to find quite a few death certificates for my family members, enabling me to fill in many dates and names in the tree.

Then there is the mystery of my great grandmother, who was born in Indian Territory, Oklahoma. I recently got a few leads to follow, but it looks like the circumstances of her birth are going to stay a mystery for now. On another line, I may have found roots going back to 1850, though I need to find a 1939 obituary to prove that I have the right family. (The common names make this part difficult.) Unless one of my new Facebook acquaintances is able to help, I think this will have to wait until I can make a trip to those local offices and/or cemetery to find out more.

It has actually been several years since I have actively been researching the family tree. In that time, much more has become available online, but there is still much that requires a trip to a town or county office, a library or historical society. For the most part, family groups tended to stay in the same area, so one trip has the potential to accomplish a lot. Then you have the traveler, like my elusive ancestor whose obituary I am now seeking. He was born in NJ, moved to Scranton, back to NJ, to areas northwest of Scranton. He held a variety of jobs: laborer, miner, fireman, silk worker. What took him to these places? I keep asking the same question of the ancestors who traveled to Oklahoma.

For some people, a list of names and dates is enough. Me, I want their stories too. Piecing them together is a challenge, but also a lot of fun. I am learning about history, not just my family’s but also that of the towns they lived in. I had no idea that the Choctaw’s leased land for mining, or even that Oklahoma had coal mines. I am learning more about coal mining in general, it being a rather popular occupation among my ancestors. All of my answers lead to more questions. I may sound like a small child, but why? How? Why did they move there? Why did they move back? How did they travel? What were their everyday lives like? I can get some of these answers, but for most I’ll have to speculate. Since I keep getting sidetracked by these questions, this is one task I expect to never fully complete, but that’s okay, the fun is in the hunt.