Sentimental Sunday, The Hero and the Wood Burning Stove.

Sitting here in Idaho with icicles hanging on the front porch 3' long and negative digit temperatures, reminded me of a story about the Hero and his adventure with the wood burning stove in our cabin when we first moved to the farm.  I always was amazed at his stamina.  He would wake up in the middle of the night stir the fire and if needed add firewood to keep the family warm through the winter.  This one night of drizzly wet windy cold, he discovered he had forgotten to bring in more firewood.  Shivering he donned his boots, threw on a robe, and ran to the wood pile grabbed some wood and ran back in to refresh the fire.

( I need to explain the stove was a sheet metal stove [click here for more explanation]. ) He quickly added the smaller compact pieces with some wood shaving and snuggled back in bed.  About an hour later, he was startled awake by the sound of a chugging engine.  He was confused by the sound and looked around the room to figure out where the it was coming from.  He awaken me with his wild jump from the bed.  I saw the stove so red and hot it was almost transparent.  You could see the glowing log inside.  He picked up the fire thongs and reached in the stove,  pulled out a glowing piece of wood; ran outside with it and threw in on the gravel.  Breathing heavy from the fright and exertion, he looked at the wood this time and put more into the stove, and came back to bed.  The next morning he went out to look at the piece of wood.  It was still smoking in spite of the drizzly rain.  My father came over and smiled saying 'That was a pine knot, it is a wonder you didn't burn the house down.  A pine knot is hard wood filled with resin and is the joint where the tree's branches attach to the tree.  The resin makes it glow and burn hotter.
I found an example of pioneer use of pine knots.   'pine knots(spirited songs women The early night was spent around the hearth made bright and cheerful by blazing pine knots and if any member of the circle could read with satisfaction he was usually assigned this work while the others joined in the customary labor of carding spinning or sewing And seated thus upon their rough blocks of wood or rude stools there was enjoyed much of that domestic happiness which has been lost to generations later even amid the glitter of an advanced civilization )'
History of Conecuh Alabama. by Benjamin Franklin Riley 1881 pg 69
I had also read of how houses with weak chimneys were burnt down by the unsuspecting use of a pine knot. 

I am thankful the Hero woke up and saw the glowing stove, otherwise we could have all been killed in a fire. It was not his fault this was his first experience with wood burning stove and cutting wood.   It made him very fire safety conscious and careful of the wood he chose to burn.
Quite and experience.

Giving Thanks on Thanksgiving 2010

My Joys

I am thankful for my individual blessings of health and happiness.  I have been truly blessed!  Wonderful children, grandchildren, friends and ancestors.  My two years of loss after the Hero died have been filled with wonderful experiences with all those cited above that have filled my empty void. 
Joy is in my heart and the days shine brightly ahead.





My ancestors include John Howland and William Bradford on my mother and father's lineage.  I also have had the privilege of reading letters by many ancestors in between that professed their thankfulness surrounding their faith.  In this mix I must include my gratitude to a loving Savior Christ who is the source of all my blessings.

My wish to all who stop by, a blessed holiday. 

Pilgrims Painting Print 1800's

Sentimental Sunday, The Hero and a Secret

 I am in Idaho where it is snowy and cold. This brought a story of the Hero and his high school dating days to mind. 

In 1963, he had taken his girlfriend Jane Smith out for a movie.  It was cold so he had on his full length overcoat.  He walked her to the door and said good night. 
He got back into the car and started home.  It was back before the freeways were finished.  His home was on a boulevard that was in progress.  Houston was expanding. 
About 2 miles down the road he realized his bladder was full and  needed to be relieved.  It wouldn't be polite to go back to Jane's and her father wasn't really friendly.  Searching in his mind, he thought of a good friend Mary who lived in the same area.  He pulled up at her house and hurried to the door.  Just after he knocked, he was struck with the thought...What do I do now?  How do you say, "Hi, I need to use your bathroom" and rush by them.  Mary answered the door.  He stammered, "I just dropped Jane home and stopped by on my way home...."  in the middle of the small talk he realized this time he could not hold his bladder any longer back.  His bladder let loose.  He talked even louder to cover the dripping noise.  The thought in his mind was 'I am so glad I have a long overcoat on!' It stopped and he said "Well, I have to get home.  Bye." and hurried to the car.  As he got in, he looked back to see Mary looking strangely at a puddle of steaming liquid on her porch.  He never spoke to her of it and she never asked.  He would tell our children, "This was one of my most embarassing moments, but I survived."  When  asked why he didn't just rush home he said, 'not enough time.'  Can't you just see him on that door step.  LOL How I love him...so funny.

100th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy "There's one in every family!"

This post is for the 100th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy at Creativegene's

Lynn at 19

Our family was blessed to have an aunt that was of a colorful character.  She was opinionated, outspoken about her opinions, loving, and caring.  She also had an attitude of gratitude of family visiting, calling, or inviting her to their home.  Her home was in Pawnee, Oklahoma, while we lived in Texas near Houston.  It was a wee bit of a drive.  It was her house the Hero rode the tornado out in the bathtub.  She got a giggle out of that.
Her favorite activity was to crochet, and second to find collector pigs.  She and my uncle raised pigs on their farm for years.  We bought her a pair of pink piggy shoes for her 74th birthday.  She loved them and wore them all the time.  Wish I had a picture of her in them.
One of our favorite stories of Aunt Lynn was a Sunday church meeting.  They served the bread and water for sacrament.  She was curious why the young men serving did something and leaned over to ask about it in a not too quiet voice.  Down the line of 6 children and a son in law went the "Shhhhh". To which, she turned around and looked defiantly at me to say.  "I will not be Shushed!"  in a not too quiet voice.  The whole pew of children instantly broke out in giggles.  I was helpless, because, I too was stifling a giggle.
I remember her when I was growing up, with her hair tousled, smudges of dirt on her face from working with the men as they were planting or haying.  She loved being outdoors and loved being active.  When they placed her in a nursing home we were all sad.  The Hero and I would drive 8 hours to pick her up to bring her down for a holiday.  We wanted her to be apart of our children's lives.  She was the only living child of my grandmother.  So she was their link to the past.     She and Texasblu shared a birthday.  The youngest daughter buys a token pig every year in her memory.  They all remember and laugh at the memory some of her sayings, such as "If you don't mind, I'm going to cut your head off and spit in the hole."  Doesn't sound nice, but she stood about 4'11" and weighed about 99 lbs, not your fierce type.  She also taught the youngest son the rhyme about Beans the Magical Flute.  Don't ask.
She died in May of 2000 just after her birthday.  We all felt as if a special part of us had been removed.  It was our last trip to Pawnee.  The town is just not the same anymore.

Wordless Wednesday Don't Ask

The Mom said 'Don't Ask'

Tombstone Tuesday Meet The Juraschek Family

Tombstones in St Mary's Cemetery San Antonio, TX

This is one of the Tombstones in the Historical St Mary's Cemetery in San Antonio, Texas.  I have looked at several genealogy family tree websites, but have not found a family tree presence for this family online.  I am adding this to FindAGrave 
Here are a few tidbits I did find for the family.
 Name: Peter Juraschek
Death Date: 21 Nov 1914
Death Place: San Antonio, Bexar County, Texas
Gender: Male
Race: White
Death Age: 79 years 5 months 4 days
Estimated Birth Date:
Birth Date: 17 Jun 1835
Birthplace: Prussian Poland
Marital Status: Married
Spouse's Name:
Father's Name: John Juraschek
Father's Birthplace: Prussian Poland
Mother's Name:
Mother's Birthplace: Prussian Poland
Occupation: Retired Mechanic
Place of Residence: San Antonio, Texas
Cemetery: St. Mary's
Burial Place:
Burial Date: 22 Nov 1914
Additional Relatives:
Film Number: 2051130
Digital Film Number: 4165729
Image Number: 1350
Reference Number: cn 21644
Collection: Texas Deaths, 1890-1976
( the image is available on Beta.familysearch.org)
This son was on the 1910 census with his parents he was noted as head of household.
Groom's Name: Alexander Juraschek
Bride's Name: Maria H. Pyterek
Marriage Date: 17 Feb 1920
Marriage Place: Bexar, Texas
This daughter did not show on the census because she married Witte before 1910. I did find both her marriages.  There are more daughters and a son on FamilySearch.org Record Search.
Name: Anna Juraschek Witte Robinson
Death Date: 01 Sep 1956
Death Place: San Antonio, Bexar, Texas
Gender: Female
Race: White
Death Age: 80 years 20 days
Estimated Birth Date:
Birth Date: 11 Aug 1876
Birthplace: Germany
Marital Status: Widowed
Father's Name: Peter Vincent Juraschek
Father's Birthplace: Germany
Mother's Name: Mary Kraiczyk
Mother's Birthplace: Germany

If this is your family let me know, I will share where and how to get your family started.

Sentimental Sunday, The Hero Was a Poet

I have shared my side of the experience of having our first child if you want to understand the Hero's poem you can click here and read the background.

We were very close and the thought of being parted at the very important event was painful.  He, being the writer he was, wrote a poem to allow me to know his thoughts while we were parted.

I Forgot to Tell You

I forgot to tell you

I forgot to hold you

I forgot to kiss you!

You slipped from me

and delivered she

without my hand to comfort thee.

That moment I regret

For I know how you must wept.

It would have only been a threat of time

To hold and squeeze you as though you were mine.

And so I must write this rhyme

To let you know I worried for you

To let you know

I love you.

Ned