I'm worth an onion!

It's been a hectic month. I've worked 20 of the last 24 days. That's my excuse for not writing ~ it ain't much, but it's all I've got.

My husband said the sweetest, silliest thing to me the other day. I was getting ready for work and made a sandwich for lunch which used the last of the already-sliced-onion in the fridge. My husband mentioned possibly having leftovers for lunch which included said onion. I apologized and confessed to taking it. He assured me that I was worth an onion. Amused, I laughed and went off to get dressed. He smilingly pointed out that wasn't just any onion, it was a Vidalia.

Apparently, love is . . . .being worth a Vidalia.

Thinking about that made me realize how important laughter is to a relationship. Laughter is absolutely necessary for a true commitment. If you can't laugh at yourselves, you'll never get through the stressful moments in life.

I celebrated Mother's Day at the hospital this year. My son, Joe, and his friend were mugged late Saturday night. Joe was hit over the head with a rock. They came back to our house and filed a police report before we headed off to the emergency room. While we waited in the examining room, Joe inflated a latex glove to play with. A few minutes later, he put his hand on head, discovered he was still bleeding, and slapped his bloody handprint on the balloon.
"Wilson?" I asked.
"Yep." he replied.
We laughed and batted Wilson around the room until they finally came in to put staples in my baby's head.

Some people think we should be committed and wonder how we could laugh at that. Simple, laughter reminds of you good things and bounces endorphins around your brain. It's very healing. We laugh a lot in our house. I highly recommend it.

Genealogy tip of the day: Save those wedding programs. This being wedding season, there are bound to be a few budding genealogists who haven't noticed this treasure yet. Wedding programs generally mention the happy couples' full names, parents, siblings, there is often a niece or nephew involved, the date & location of the wedding. . . they are veritable treasure trove of genealogical tidbits. Save them with all your other source material.

Red Wing

My husband and I just returned from a trip to Red Wing. It the first time we've visited the town and it was a wonderful trip. We were the only guests at the Bed & Breakfast where we stayed (the advantage of going on weekdays) so it was like having our own private mansion. I highly recommend a midweek off-season trip as a way to truly relax and reconnect with each other. It's more private when there are few tourists and it's cheaper, so you feel less guilty about spending money frivolously. We used our tax refund and decided that was our economic stimulus package (and we paid it ourselves, instead of sending the bill to our children - take that, Washington.). Spend a few days in small city within a hundred miles of your home: rent a room, eat out, drink, shop, consider it your patriotic duty.

We stayed at the Moondance Inn, which was marvelous. It was built in 1874 and still has the original woodwork and the Steuben & Tiffany lights. The hosts were very warm and friendly and non-cloying. Also, every room has a private bath & whirlpool. I'm very big on that feature. Hostels sounded fine at twenty, but by forty a room with a private bath is far more important than a cheap room. Or is that just me? There's a great porch, with plenty of comfy seating, but the only picture I took of it has my husband in it, and he values his privacy. And I value his happiness and peace-of-mind, so you have to go to their website for pictures.


If you go to Red Wing, be sure to climb the bluff, it's worth the sweat. Red Wing has a hill at the east end of downtown called Barn Bluff. It rises 350 feet above Main St (which it actually interrupts) and provides an awesome view of the Mississippi islands and Lake Pepin. Having read the Little House books as a girl and later reading them to my own children, I insisted on driving around the lake. My husband was a good sport, he even stopped at several historic markers. Poor guy, he's never been big on that sort of thing, and Lake Pepin has a lot of markers. I think he was relieved that we have no relatives buried in Goodhue County, otherwise I'd have dragged him to cemeteries, too. He really doesn't get the appeal of a cemetery as a tourism hotspot, of course, he's not into genealogy either.

Genealogy Tip of the Day: Go gravehunting! Anytime you travel, search your family tree for burial sites in the county (or counties) to which you are headed. I suggest entering the cemetery name in the burial site, as well as town, county & state. It makes planning grave hunting trips easier. If your software won't let you search for a detail like every "burial site that contains Goodhue County" you need better software. Reunion is great for searching, it allows locations Reverse Place name sorting, which starts after the last comma (i.e. country, state, county, city). When you are in a cemtery, look around. The people buried near ancestor may be relatives - especially in older cemeteries. If you have a digital camera, it costs nothing to take a few dozen extra pictures. Shot at least two tombstones extra in each direction. Trust me, this will be worth it. I knew Mary Lester grew up and married Louis Barger - if I had looked two tombstones from from her mother Margaret Holland Lester Beecher, I'd have found her on my first trip to St Thomas Cemetery in Jessenland. It would have saved me a return trip.

Yom HaShoah

Today is Yom HaShoah, the Day of Holocaust Remembrance. It seems quite fitting that Irena Sendler's story was just shown on TV two nights ago. Irena was a Catholic social worker in Warsaw, who saw what was happening when the Nazi's forced the Jews into the Ghetto. She couldn't ignore it. She couldn't pretend it didn't concern her. Irena smuggled two-thousand five-hundred children out of the ghetto. This is remarkable even without considering the fact helping Jews was a capital offense. She knew there were children she could help, so she did. Irena never considered herself a heroine. She did not glory in the children she saved, rather, she mourned those she could not save.

Irena was a far better Christian than most of us today. She was concerned with right and wrong, good and evil. She was not concerned with tolerance. She knew the Nazi's were evil and did not care what their reason was. How many of us look at the world through the rose-colored glasses of tolerance? It is not right to let Ahmadinejad give an anti-Semitic speech at a conference on race. Israel has every right to exist. The Holocaust must never be forgotten nor downplayed. We cannot, in the name of tolerance, allow his intolerance. The West must let Iran know that we won't let them destroy Israel. Let us all participate in Yom HaShoah by recognizing the hateful anti-Semitism of Ahmadinejab and his cronies. Let us stand up for evil. We need to be more than deeply disappointed, we need to be outraged.

Spring!!

Spring, glorious spring! It may, finally, be here. Today was warm and sunny and brilliant! It's the kind of day that makes me wish I still smoked so I'd have an excuse to go outside more often. Not that I can afford to start that again. It never ceases to amaze me how many of co-workers love that nicotine (which I dearly miss, lo these last nine years ~ never start, quitting is too horrid). The "healthcare system" for which I work strictly forbids smoking on company property. There is a gathering of people at the property line several times a day.

After the last snow, I entertained fears that this would be a year without summer. Today, though, ooh la la. I revel in days like this, when it gets above 50°. And it's Friday!!!! And I have a three-day weekend!!! And, best of all, this is the day we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for us. This is a truly beautiful day.

Good Friday, sad though it is, always makes me rejoice. As a child, I confess, it was mostly in anticipation of the Easter basket. As an adult, it blows me away. I have no doubt I could take a bullet for my husband or any of my children ~ but crucifixion? Followed by three days in hell gathering the no longer damned? Oy vey! How can we not rejoice that He loves us that much?

Today's genealogy tip: Try misspelling. Lots of immigrants are illiterate, as their literacy improves they may change the spelling. Some folks Anglicize their names (Grandpa Jäger became Jaeger then Yaeger in just a decade). Some folks never change the spelling, they get lost because the government employee can't spell. Bureaucrats never ask, "How do you spell that?" They just guess wrong. I knew which my Maurer ancestors lived in in 1860 but could not for anything find them on the census, even with Soundex. They lived near Great-great-grandma Maurer's sister, Mrs. Gasow. I finally searched for Gasow. Nothing. Then I tried a Soundex search for Gasow and found Gausau. The next farm over was Maier. The names & dates matched those I knew and I found some children I never knew of before! Jackpot. Had I tried a Soundex search misspelling Maurer, using Mauer, a common variant, I'd found them five years earlier.

Uncle Sam is on Steroids

With a freakishly huge federal budget looming, it seems that governmental expansion is a given. Like it or not, Uncle Sam is on steroids. If I must give a chunk of my paycheck to the country's most inefficient human services provider, I'd like to suggest ways to improve it. Ideally, we help people get off welfare, there is considerable dignity and self-esteem to be earned by earning one's way.

1. If we are providing welfare in order to care for minor children, we have a right to insist those children attend school. Their best chance to grow up and contribute to society is by becoming educated. If a child is truant (in the Minneapolis school district, eight absences in a quarter is automatic failure, that seems like reasonable number) to the point of failing the quarter ~ and we can allow exceptions for hospitalizations, obviously ~ Mom gets off the next quarter, and Junior goes to foster care. After four absences, the social worker can be notified to get on Mom's case ~ so it doesn't come as a surprise.
2. If you're getting welfare, you're getting educated. Welfare recipients who do not have a high-school diploma or GED must be attending classes with the goal of graduating. Those with a diploma need to be in a vo-tech or community college program. We can pay for it. Remember, we're trying to improve people's lives. No school = no money. Actually, I'd like to see free community college for everyone who wants it, just like high school.
3. If you get food stamps or WIC, you must attend (and pass) a cooking/nutrition class. It is both cheaper and healthier to make food from scratch than to buy ready-to-nuke meals. This week, a local grocery store is offering a frozen meal for two ~ 24 oz of linguine, chicken, sauce & vegetables ~ for $6.99. On the other hand, a 48 oz package of chicken breast is $3.87, a 12 oz box of linguine is $1.00, one pound of sweet yellow onions is 77¢ and a pound of asparagus is $2.48. In other words, the ready-made meal is $3.50 per serving, the same size homemade meal is $1.06 per serving!
4. No welfare for druggies! Members of the military ~ who actually provide a service in exchange for money from the government ~ get drug tested. It's only fair that welfare recipients are subject to the same standard.

I saw the best personalized license plate the other day: HRUDUDU. If you remember Watership Down that plate will bring a smile to your face. If you never read it, you should, it's excellent. It is funny, sad, scary and thoroughly entertaining.

Spring has sprung. In appreciation of warmth and sunshine, my son Pat and I went out with our cameras to take skyline shots of Minneapolis. This is my favorite. I had to stand on a deteriorating snowbank to get a view above the freeway fence, but I think it was worth it. I love this view, with all the modern skyscrapers in the back (the big one on the left, with the black cap, is Philip Johnson's IDS Tower) and in the front, right by the IDS, is the Foshay Tower (it's the one that looks like a tribute to the Washington Monument). The Foshay was the first skyscraper west of the Mississippi. I remember when the Foshay dominated the skyline. We used to go up to the observation deck and be awed by the view.

Today's Genealogical Tip: Read the hometown obituaries. If you have a small town in your family's recent past (and many of us do) check the local paper's website. Even many small town papers are now online and they have great obituaries. It's not uncommon to find birthplaces, mother's maiden names, military and job history, all siblings' names and church memberships listed. Those small-town papers can be a genealogical dream come true. Even big city obits seem to be getting more in-depth. Bookmark the websites of papers for towns where your family settled en masse and check them often.

Heat is Cool

No, the title isn't supposed to be poetic; it is a sincere expression of my sentiments. Go a couple of days in March, in Minnesota, with a broken furnace. You will understand. Heat totally rocks. I love central heat. As a teenager, who read wa-a-ay too many Bodice Busters, I thought it would be terribly romantic to travel back in time. I was an idiot. As a middle-aged woman who has a real life, I have to say I love now. We live in an amazing place and time. Imagine life without central heat and indoor plumbing. Eeek!

People living in the Southern half of the U.S. might not properly appreciate the beauty of central heat. My friend, Joy, has long believed that those of us in the North ought to be able to deduct the cost of heat, winter coats, etc. from our income taxes. Her rational is that we spend a lot of money to live here, thereby saving the strain on the Southern infrastructure. Imagine if all of us became "snowbirds." It is expensive to stay through the winter ~ and darn chilly. I'd like to know when my share of global warming is coming. Can I have it now, please? After a few sub-zero days, one starts to think about Al Gore's broken promise. Next time it hits ten below, let's gather every available copy of An Inconvenient Truth and have An Inconvenient Bonfire to get warm.

I feel extremely fortunate. After all, I am far too outspoken and opinionated to live safely in an earlier age (or now, in many parts of the world). For that freedom, I thank every vet and all the brave women, like my mother & grandmother, who got jobs and tried independence before they settled down. It is those women who quietly entered the workaday world who made the greatest inroads for us. Suffragettes made noise, but the quiet ones got men accustomed to women who think and do. Thank you, Ladies. Thank you, Vets. God bless you all.

If you'd like to thank a vet for all they've done for us, might I suggest Operation Homefront. They earned a 4-star rating from Charity Navigator so you know the money goes where they claim. From their website:

Mission Statement

Operation Homefront provides emergency assistance and morale to our troops, to the families they leave behind and to wounded warriors when they return home. A nonprofit 501(c)(3), Operation Homefront leads more than 4,500 volunteers in 30 chapters nationwide and has provided critical assistance to more than 45,000 military families in need. Operation Homefront also operates an online magazine for military wives and women in uniform. Through this community, we reach the newest and youngest military families, instantly alerting them about our programs and other information to help them succeed in military life.


Stay warm and enjoy the weekend.

Robin Hood Saves the Economy! Woo hoo!

I saw a billboard for a radio station today claiming intelligent talk, or some such thing. I tuned in, and heard the most brilliant idea. The Top 1% (that is, the 3,000,000 wealthiest Americans) should give America a 15% tip. Because America has served them well, we the people, deserve 15% of their net worth. Now, I was driving and therefore, not giving my full attention to the gentleman on the radio, but I thought he said that 15% of the net worth of the top 1% was $60,000,000,000,000. If sixty trillion dollars were handed to the government to redistribute, the economy would be saved! Yeah, right. Also, when one considers that the total net worth of Americans is only $62,169,900,000,000, his math looks even goofier. The 62 trillion for the National net worth is based on the Federal Reserve - http://www.federalreserve.gov/releases/z1/Current/z1.pdf

The good news: this moron is just a caller and is not a legislator. The bad news: he's probably allowed to vote.

On a completely unrelated and totally silly note, have you ever heard of the Blue-footed Booby? It is a seabird, native to the Pacific islands and coastal areas of the Americas - as far north as California and south to Ecuador. It's sort of silly-looking (in fact, the name comes from the Spanish word for stupid) with its skinny head & body and those vivid blue feet. A co-worker has calendar with showing the blue-footed booby this month. It is a great picture. But, what really makes me smile, is my own immaturity. I have this mental picture of wind-up boobies (like chattering teeth) with bright blue web-feet. And, no, I don't mean the birds. It was bad enough, walking around work, thinking about bodacious ta-tas running around on their blue feet, trying not to grin, before I noticed something else. Multiple people have this wildlife calendar. It's getting hard to avoid. And the picture is better than I realized. One of the birds is leaning, lifting his right foot, looking for all the world like he's ripping one deadly fart. No, it isn't ladylike to think that way, but it sure makes me smile. You may think you're mature - but now that I've planted the blue-footed booby in your mind, your inner-adolescent is grinning. You're welcome.

The Daily Muddle

I work in home infusion pharmacy. We make IV (intravenous) drugs for people to take at home, thereby enabling them to get out of the hospital and on with their lives. It's a very cool concept. You get your medicine, connect it to your IV catheter, throw the drug container in a special (but normal-looking) backpack and head out. Our patients go to school, work, on vacation, all while taking their very complicated meds. I complain about it, but truth be told, if I ever need this stuff, I'd absolutely trust my co-workers. They can be pains in the ass, but they are really good at their jobs.

It's commonly agreed at my workplace that we have communication issues. The problem is always, of course, the other guys' fault. Someone-in-management read an article (always a bad idea ~ never teach managers to read) and decided that a daily huddle was the solution. Twice each day, every department sends one or more representatives to the huddle. We're told how many patients are pending for the day and what type of therapies they'll need. Each department reports as to their status. Sometimes it's useful, such as today when we were informed not to make chronological promises because delivery couldn't meet them. It was snowing quite prettily and visibility was non-existent. Often though, it's just confusing, hence its nickname: the Daily Muddle.

In order to improve interpersonal relations at work, someone-in-management (I don't know if this is the same someone or not) decided we needed to get to know each other better. Now the Daily Muddle includes a trivia question. Today's question: What's your favorite book? Now, there's a question. How can anyone limit themselves to one? There are so many awesome books available. I could fill a bookshelf with favorites. Since a bookshelf won't fit in the computer, I'll just reveal one from time to time. Today's book: Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls. I'd recommend this to everyone. It is one of the best books I've ever read. It's the first one that ever made me cry - I bawled so hard (if you've read it, you know exactly where I was) I couldn't finish it for another hour. This was the first book that truly transported me and the first book with a real, genuine hero (and thinking about him has me tearing up again). I know it's a "children's book" but if you've never read it: go, now, find a copy and start reading. I'll be here when you get back.

If you're wondering why "Cathy the Spherical," its because I like history & genealogy (which is just micro-history). Before there were surnames, there were descriptors. I've always liked the ones that weren't so flattering, yet probably quite accurate, like Lulach the Fool, Edward the Outlaw, Henry the Quarrelsome or Cathy the Spherical.

Today's Genealogy Tip: Label your source documents. Whenever I get new documents, I enter them in my Reunion (great genealogy software) file as unique sources. That way, I can list all the info I want to transcribe right into the source. (Uncertified copies of Minnesota death certificates are available at the Minnesota Historical Society library for 30 cents, so I have a lot.) I then link all the pertinent info to that source. Don't forget to link Mom, Dad & Spouse using the death certificate as a source, and the informant is often a family member, too. On each document I write a code number - you can use the source number from your software or number the documents consecutively. By numbering the document, you can easily find it later if you want to recheck something. In your software, record the document # and keep the documents in order. When your files outgrow the first folder (or drawer), having them coded will be a sanity saver. Of course, if it's an original source, you'll want to write on the acid-free envelope, not the actual document.

My Virgin Posting

I've pondered the whole blog thing for quite a while. I love to hear myself talk (a trait no one shares, right?) but, still, a blog? Like the world wants to read my ramblings. On the other hand, Google the word "blog" and you'll get well over two billion hits, and how many of those, dear reader, have you seen? My point is that no one is forced to read a blog, so even if it is egocentric, it is also harmless.

WARNING: Coherence is not my strong point. Segue into Nothing accurately describes my writing style (and thought process, for that matter). Conversations in our house can change topics every fifteen seconds. Now that you've been warned, you are not allowed to complain. Topics can change for no reason at all. There is no hamster in my head, running ever foward in his little wheel ~ I have a gerbil, on meth, in one of those little plastic balls that can go anywhere. (Note: this is an analogy. I do not subject gerbils to methamphetamines. Gerbil owners understand why. So anyone from PETA who's having a heart attack over my little analogy can just get over themselves.)

It does seem a bit absurd to add another project to the pile, but they do tend to have considerable overlap. I love genealogy, have since I was about thirteen ~ and no, I won't say how long ago that was. I've recently had my parents' Super 8 film and camcorder cassettes converted to DVD and I'm editing those. For my birthday last month, I got a CanoScan 4400f. It scans slides!! How cool is that? So, now I'm scanning Mom & Dad's old slides to convert to DVD slideshows along with the home movies. (Anyone sensing a theme?) My last grandparent died 24 years ago and I still miss her. When we watched the DVD's in their raw form, there were Grandma & Grandpa Johnson walking around! There is even film of Grandpa Yaeger, who died before I was born.

Okay, now you see the link between the film projects and genealogy, but the blog still confounds, ne c'est pas? Along with random (ir)rational ramblings, I figure I'll sneak in some genealogical tidbits.

Today's tip: Not everyone entered the US through New York. This might seem obvious, and yet. . . Margaret Lampertz and Johann Zeyen (my father's maternal grandparents) could not be found anywhere at Castle Garden. I searched the website's index repeatedly, with no luck. I tried so many variations my eye's burned. After years of trying to find out exactly when they got here (and thus, perchance, whence they came) I finally checked Philadelphia. On the first attempt: there they were, arriving May 16, 1883 on the British Crown, together, along with her brother, Peter. Until then, we thought they met in Minnesota. The ship's manifest also listed their collective hometown, Burglen, Baden-Württemburg. Another brick-wall shattered, simply because I finally remembered what happens when one assumes.

Have a lovely day. And don't forget to smile at a random stranger - it will either brighten his day, or feed his paranoia, either way, it's fun.