Lift Up Your Hearts!

As someone relatively new to the Liturgical Year, I have nothing authoritative to say about Lent, but I love this season.  As a penitential season it is much easier to celebrate than Advent, which gets entangled with the secular celebration of Christmas.  And Lenten disciplines have all the fun of New Year's resolutions but with a statute of limitations.

• People blog about all sorts of personal things.  (Okay, this makes it four; it's not a legitimate reason, but it's too obvious not to mention.)
• In future years, when I wonder (because I can't remember) what I did for Lent in previous years, I'll be able to find it here.
• Publishing my disciplines makes me slightly more likely to be able to stick with them.
• Several people have asked about ideas for different ways of approaching Lent besides the traditional abstention from meat or sugar, and my disciplines are usually on the odd side, as I've written about before.

• The computer  Foregoing this time-sink would, indeed, free up much time for prayer and re-orienting of my life, but the cost would be too great.  The computer is my primary means of communication with far-flung loved ones, nearly my only source of news, and is required for most of the work that I do.  Giving it up would plunge my life into more chaos, not less.
• Blogging  Giving up blogging seems to be a popular Lenten discipline, but it's too good an exercise for my mind, as well as my way of keeping in touch with family and friends.
• Genealogy  This is another tremendous time-sink, but since my current goal is to eat this dinosaur in small but steady bites, it makes no sense to fast for nearly a month and a half then be overwhelmed after Easter.  The sooner I get my recent research entered, the more likely I am to be able to decipher my chicken-scratch notes.

What I finally settled on:

• The computer goes off at 9:00 every night.   When I stick to a 10 p.m. bedtime, my life goes much better, but that's not always easy, especially when I'm in the middle of a project and "just one more thing" can lead to midnight or beyond.  Not only are most of my projects computer-oriented, but for some reason computing is one of those areas where I blink and two hours have passed. If I get nothing else from this discipline, at least I'll be better rested.
• I'm giving up reading and/or working puzzles while I eat.  Most of you will find this odd, but it is a real sacrifice for me.  I agree wholeheartedly with C. S. Lewis, who said, "Eating and reading are two pleasures that combine admirably." There's no reason not to combine them; I'm doing this because it's a great pleasure I can dispense with for 40 days as an exercise in self-denial, without troubling anyone else or falling terribly behind in my work.  Exception:  Porter and I sometimes do puzzles together during meals; for obvious reasons I'm not abstaining from them.
• I'll spend between a half hour and an hour reading each day.  Preferably the longer time, though I haven't managed it yet.  I know; that's hardly a sacrifice.  But I've noticed that over the last several years my reading has become even more fractured and fragmented than it was when I had small children at home, if that were possible.  I read blogs, articles, and news stories online; I listen to audio books in the car as I run errands, I skim magazines.  I read books in five-minute gulps as I can throughout the day—on visits to the "reading room," while eating, while falling asleep at night.  What I'm missing is concentrated time on a single, book-length topic, and I have a very large stack of quality books—many recently purchased and one overdue at the library—on which the derivative of my progress is negative.  I'm hoping that a short, but consistent, dedicated time will reverse the trend.

As with most First Things articles, David B. Hart's 2004 essay Freedom and Decency is intellectual, dense, long, and not easy going.  But—again like most First Things articles—it is well worth the effort.  (Hat tip to John C. Wright.  Who says science fiction writers can't be deep thinkers?)  What earns the article its own post rather than a brief mention in my "Casting the Net" series is the following extraordinary paragraph, which leaps from the somewhat dry erudition with the shock of a striking panther.

I am not convinced that we are in any very meaningful sense in the midst of a “culture war”; I think it might at best be described as a fracas. I do not say that such a war would not be worth waging. Yet most of us have already unconsciously surrendered to the more insidious aspects of modernity long before we even contemplate drawing our swords from their scabbards and inspecting them for rust. This is not to say that there are no practical measures for those who wish in earnest for the battle to be joined: homeschooling or private “trivium” academies; the disposal or locking away of televisions; prohibitions on video games and popular music; Greek and Latin; great books; remote places; archaic enthusiasms. It is generally wise to seek to be separate, to be in the world but not of it, to be no more engaged with modernity than were the ancient Christians with the culture of pagan antiquity; and wise also to cultivate in our hearts a generous hatred toward the secular order, and a charitable contempt. Probably the most subversive and effective strategy we might undertake would be one of militant fecundity: abundant, relentless, exuberant, and defiant childbearing. Given the reluctance of modern men and women to be fruitful and multiply, it would not be difficult, surely, for the devout to accomplish — in no more than a generation or two — a demographic revolution. Such a course is quite radical, admittedly, and contrary to the spirit of the age, but that is rather the point, after all. It would mean often forgoing certain material advantages, and forfeiting a great deal of our leisure; it would often prove difficult to sustain a two-career family or to be certain of a lavish retirement. But if it is a war we want, we should not recoil from sacrifice.

Did you ever wonder where your Ash Wednesday ashes come from?  Traditionally they come from burning the branches from the previous year's Palm Sunday, but these days the ashes that mark your forehead on this first day of Lent might be from right here in Central Florida. Read about 84-year-old Ralph Higginbotham's family ash-making business in this Orlando Sentinel article, which also includes a good explanation of Ash Wednesday and Lent.

Under Higginbotham's direction, the family makes several hundred pounds of the smooth, black dust from sabal palms every year. He makes the ashes by slowly roasting palm trees in steel drums.

He uses no flammable liquids in the roasting and no pigments to darken the finished product.

A single 25-foot palm, cut and left to cure in the sun for two years, will yield about 5 pounds of ash. After grating and sifting, the ash goes off to suppliers in California, Illinois and Rhode Island, who sell it to churches and dioceses across the country.

Jon shared Controlling Our Food on Facebook, but as that leaves out most of my readers, I'll post it here.  I almost didn't, because whoever put it up on Google Video is some sort of anti-Semitic conspiracy theorist.  That doesn't negate the importance of what this French documentary has to say, however, so in the spirit of "the wise man recognizes truth in the words of his enemies," I recommend taking the time to watch this video, because it raises some critical issues about the environment and the future of our food supply. (It's nearly two hours long, but it not content-dense, so you can do something else while listening or be liberal with the fast-forward button.)

Controlling Our Food is primarily about the Monsanto Corporation.  To bolster the claim that Monsanto will do anything to increase profits, including lie and cover up and put people at grave risk of illness and death, the first part of the documentary is old news about PCBs and dioxin and industrial/agricultural pollution.  True enough, but old, and overly long, so that even in two hours there is not enough time given to the main points.

My main points, anyway.  Perhaps the creators of the video intended it to be primarily an anti-Monsanto slam.  To confess my own biases, I prefer organic, locally-grown, heirloom products produced on small farms as naturally as possible, but this does not make me anti-technology, anti-agribusiness, or even anti-GMO food (in principle), any more than being strongly in favor of educational choice, and homeschooling in particular, makes me blind to the benefits of public education. Mankind has been "engineering" his crops and livestock from prehistoric times, and in most cases this has been a good thing.  There is a place for insecticides, herbicides, antibiotics, and other chemical interferences with nature.  We take for granted the abundance of inexpensive food produced by our "factory farming," and those who would destroy the system need to consider the impact of that destruction, especially on the poor.

It's the long-range impact and unintended consequences of our technological innovations that concern me, and that's what I took away from Controlling Our Food.  Perhaps Monsanto is evil incarnate and its executives are conspiring to poison us all and take over the world—but I doubt it.  I distrust them, because I distrust any large organization that dominates a field, whether it's Monsanto, Microsoft, Google, the Teamsters Union, or the national government.  But one doesn't need to have bad intentions to provoke evil consequences, and here are a few that should concern us:

• Monsanto's "Round-Up Ready" soybeans have been genetically engineered to resist Monsanto's popular herbicide, Round-Up.  Farmers who plant this seed variety can drench their fields with herbicide to keep them weed-free while allowing the soybean plants to grow.  It doesn't take much thinking to realize this means Round-Up will be used extensively rather than judiciously.


• Injudicious use of herbicides threatens the non-GMO crops of neighboring farmers.


• And what about the effect of those herbicides on farm workers and their families?


• And on those of us who subsequently eat those Round-Up laced soybeans?


• Because GMO seeds are patented, farmers are forbidden to save seed for next year's planting, and Monsanto aggressively pursues lawsuits against anyone they think is violating this agreement.


• This is especially disconcerting because the modified genes are distributed by natural forces beyond the boundaries of the originally-planted field.


• Which is concerning in itself, and threatens all non-GMO varieties, especially heirloom and native strains.


• More and more farmers are planting GMO crops, in order to remain competitive, and because non-GMO seeds are becoming increasingly unavailable.


• Poor farmers are especially hard-hit, because the natural strains of a crop that their families could subsist on—replanting the "seed corn" from year to year—are being lost; often high-cost GMO seeds are the only choice available.


• Anything that threatens our biodiversity is potentially a major, long-term problem.  Not only does the lack of variety give us a bland sameness—all store-bought orange juice tastes the same—but any disease or pest threat to the one remaining strain endangers the entire food supply.


• When we reach the point where we cannot get seed for the future from our current crop, we are standing on top of a house of cards far more serious than the one that collapsed in our current financial crisis.

As I wrote in my review of Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle:

Our food supply is no longer self-sustainable.  Plants and animals have for years been bred for many characteristics, but those which encourage reproduction, by seed or by sex, are not among them.  Those who sell seeds have little interest in plants that will allow the farmer to save seeds from his current crop rather than purchasing new seeds for the next year.  Characteristics that make animals successful reproducers are not generally compatible with the technique of keeping animals in close confinement, and besides, artificial insemination is more reliable and predictable, so that’s the way our agricultural animals are reproduced.  I find the idea of a food supply that can’t last beyond the current generation without artificial intervention to be very, very scary.  Closely related is the way we have bred variety out of our food plants and animals.  Ninety-nine percent of the turkeys we eat, for example, are of a single breed, the Broad-Breasted White.  All I can think of when I hear numbers like that is the Irish Potato Famine.  We may end up owing our lives to heritage and heirloom plant and animal breeders like our friend at the Claude Moore Colonial Farm.

P.S. To the makers of the video: You do not inspire confidence in your findings by showing us that most of your research was apparently done via Google searches.  Perhaps it was intended to assure us that the information is readily available, but I find it to be like a college student submitting a research paper in which all his sources are cited from Wikipedia.  If you do a search for "dangers of epidurals" you will (currently) see this on the first page (click on the image for a larger view):

Jon provided the name; now all I have to do is figure out what "Classical Unschooling" is.  It could be confused with unschooling as it was practiced "in the good ol' days"—but for a great article on the "unschooling" label see Pat Farenga's post What's going on with unschooling?  (There's no permalink that I could find, so if you come to this post later you may have to search in his archives.)  What I mean for Classical Unschooling to be, however, is an approach to homeschooling—better yet, all of life—that combines the best of what I've gleaned from authors as divergent as John Holt and Susan Wise Bauer, a flexible plan that is low-stress yet high-expectation, creative yet disciplined, supportive yet challenging.

Liz at smithically schooled began the discussion, but it's a little hard to keep up with because if there's an an easy way to know when comments have been added there I can't find it.  (The Recent Comments feature is another reason I like LifeType on Lime Daley for this blog.)  It would be great if my highly intelligent and experienced blog readers would read and add to her discussion, which is why I'm making this post and sending you there.  I'll also post a comment here if I note that the discussion has progressed there (and hope others will do the same) so you can know more easily if there's been an update.

Andy B. posted a link to New Math on Facebook, and it tickled me so I'm passing it on.  Many are funny, some a little odd, one or two potentially offensive.  Here are a few that I liked:

And my absolute favorite, the one that inspired this post:

The usual disclaimers, I don't usually do "memes," etc.  But when it's books, it's hard to resist.  I found this one over at Percival Blakeney Academy.  The instructions are:

• Look at the list and bold those you have read—films don't count.
• Italicize those you intend to read.  ("Intend" may be a little strong.  How about "Would like to read someday, sometime.)
• Tag somebody if you like.  (I don’t like to tag people.  But I’d love to see other people’s lists and comments.)

I don't know who chose the books on the list, nor why.  It seems varied enough, with books old and new, and several I've never heard of.  And any book list that includes Swallows and Amazons gets big points as far as I'm concerned.  It could only have done better by including George MacDonald.  :)  My comments follow in parentheses.

1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien  (Absolutely one of the best series of books I’ve ever read.  I have read them, and The Hobbit, see #16, innumerable times and get something more out of them every time.  The movie misses nearly all that is wonderful about them.)
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte (I no longer remember anything about it, however, except a couple of house and moor images in my mind.)
8. 1984 - George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy (Again, I don’t remember a thing about it.)
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller (What is it about books we’re forced to read in school?  I remember nothing about this book either, only my anger in 8th grade that my class read The Caine Mutiny while the other was reading Catch 22, then the teacher made us read Catch 22 but let the other skip The Caine Mutiny.  As a consequence, perhaps, I remember absolutely nothing about this one and little more about the other.)
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare (I’ve read some, but hardly all.)
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien (See #2 above.)
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger (Unlike many folks, I wasn’t forced to read this in school, but I read it anyway because it is set in one of my home towns.  If you’re not from Wayne, Pennsylvania, don’t bother; there’s nothing else redeeming about it.)
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell (I passed this up at a time when it was a big fad amongst my friends; I’ve seen the movie twice but it hasn’t given me any reason yet to want to read the book.  Still, I think I might find it interesting for historical reasons.)
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald (Saw the movie, can’t remember if I read the book or not.)
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams (Worth reading, if only to know where “So long, and thanks for all the fish” comes from.)
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck (Probably worth reading for cultural literacy reasons, but I don’t want to pollute my mind with its historical inaccuracies – the same reason I sometimes wish I hadn’t seen the movies Braveheart and Amadeus.)
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll  (Don’t miss this.)
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame (Ditto.)
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis  (What I said about the movie version under #2, The Lord of the Rings, applies here as well.  Read the books first for their own delightful sake, then read Michael Ward’s Planet Narnia for some amazing insights.)
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis (I answered this one already, see #33.)
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden (It’s on my list because Janet read it in Japan.)
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving (On the recommendation of Janet’s English teacher; okay, but I wouldn’t recommend it myself.)
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery (And all the others in the series as well.)
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding (I definitely don’t recommend this.  Get the Cliff Notes version, so you can understand all the cultural references to it, but otherwise don’t subject yourself to it.)
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley  (I had to read it in school.  I might like it more if I read it again.)
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett (And many more of her books.)
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson (I don’t know anything about the book, bad Dad liked Bill Bryson, so that’s reason enough for me to italicize it.)
75. Ulysses - James Joyce  (I suppose I should want to read this, for cultural literacy reasons, but I never got past the first page.  I read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in school, and that was bad enough.)
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome (I love this series!  It’s much too neglected these days.  One reviewer dismissed it as being too unbelievable, because the siblings don’t fight.  It gets worse – they love and respect their parents.  What a shock.  I’ve seen no better portrayal of competent, confident, independent children in which the adults are also competent, reasonable people.  Besides, these are great stories.  Warning 1:  the stories are old, and there are one or two instances of words that were once acceptable in polite society which are no longer.  Warning 2:  reading these stories may give you an irresistible desire do go out and buy a sailboat.)
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker  (I read it when Heather was in high school.  Don’t bother.)
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery (First in French, then in English.)
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams (You’ll never look at a rabbit the same way again.)
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo  (Mostly.  The only version I was able to get at the time was slightly abridged; it was still plenty long, however.)

Some of the ones that are neither bolded nor italicized I have no intention of reading, but most are that way because I don't know anything about them.  If there's one you recommend, please say so.  And I'd love to see other people's lists.  You can put one in a comment here, if you wish; if you make it a post in your own blog, please leave a link to it here.

Both Porter and I are fortunate in having many ancestors who were amongst the first Europeans to come to this country.  Whether it’s a fortunate situation in general may be up for debate, but for one doing genealogy research it is an undeniable blessing.  For one thing, those early New Englanders kept good records!  I didn’t know how good until I tried to find ancestors in Pennsylvania, where keeping birth records wasn’t generally required until the 1900’s.  Even next-door neighbor New York isn’t nearly as easy to research as New England, and the further west one travels, the worse it gets.  Except for California, that is.  California may not be so good with history, but its modern-day records are more open than most.  As a person concerned with privacy this makes me nervous, but the genealogist in me is grateful.

Finally, as Gary Boyd Roberts of the New England Historic Genealogical Society has stated, "Living Americans with 50-100 immigrant ancestors in New England …can expect to find a royally descended forebear."  Why is it good to have royal blood?  It’s not for bragging rights, although I’ll admit some sort of perverse interest in finding myself descended from the villains of Robin Hood (King John), Becket (Henry II), and Braveheart (Longshanks).  I find it best to take refuge in what C. S. Lewis said in Prince Caspian, when Caspian expressed regret for not coming from a "more honorable lineage."  Aslan told him, You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve, and that is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor in earth.

The most important benefit of having royal ancestors is that it makes history much more interesting.  I never could abide history as a school subject, but finding a connection between the two makes both history and genealogy come alive.  One reason for my research is the hope that it will help our nephews and grandchildren to see historical figures and events as the real lives of real people.

From the standpoint of research, however, the best thing about royal descent is that those folks made history, and even those who didn’t keep records of the hoi polloi kept track of their noblemen.  How else would I be able to find ancestors as far back as the 6th century, and how cool is that?  And again, someone else has done the work that I would never do, even if I could.

What has been somewhat amusing about my research is that while I discovered multiple paths to royal ancestors in my line, I had found nothing for Porter, despite Gary Boyd Roberts’ assurances.  He, however, has multiple Mayflower lines, while I’ve found none of those for myself.  During my recent trip to Boston I rectified the former omission.

The key to the Wightman connection turns out to be Ursula Perkins, born 1812, died 7 August 1889, married Elbridge M. Wightman in 1829 and lived in Bristol, Connecticut.  The only information I had about her parentage was that she was the daughter of “Mark and Polly Perkins.”  Recently I decided to try to push her line back a bit further.  Skipping details of the research that led me to these resources, I discovered The Descendants of Edward Perkins of New Haven, Conn. by Caroline Erickson Perkins (Rochester, New York: C.E. Perkins, 1914), and Yale Genealogy and History of Wales by Rodney Horace Yale (Beatrix, Nebraska: 1908).  In the latter I found a Polly Yale who was born May 26, 1793 and “[m]arried Mark Perkins, July, 1811, and lived in Oneconta [sic Oneonta], N.Y.  He died Sept. 30, 1813.”  Her parents were Thomas Yale and Polly Beckwith.  So far, the facts were consistent with what I knew about Ursula.

In the second book I found a Mark Perkins, son of Elijah Perkins and Lydia Sperry, baptized in 1788 at Woodbridge, Connecticut.  Four brothers and sisters were baptized at the same time, so his actual birth year must be somewhat before this.  Unfortunately, the book stops short of naming a wife for Mark, so there was no obvious reason to connect him with Polly Yale.  However, there’s an LDS record that names a Mark Perkins who married a Polly Yale and died 30 September 1813 in Oneonta, New York.  The LDS sources are of varying reliability, but it was an encouraging find.

Most indicative was the cemetery records of Old North Cemetery in Bristol.  There I found:  Thomas Yale, who died 18 February 1814, age 52; Polly, his wife, who died 17 April 1795, age 25; and Anna, his relict (widow), who died 15 September 1830, age 70.  All these are consistent with the Yale book, so I am confident I have the right family here.

Also in the cemetery is Elijah M. Perkins, who died 30 September 1813 at age 31; the records note that he is buried in the Thomas Yale lot.  Considering the death date, it takes very little imagination to believe that this is not the Elijah Perkins noted above as Mark’s father, who could not have been 31 in 1813, but rather that Mark’s full name was Elijah Mark Perkins and that he was brought home from Oneonta to Connecticut for burial in the lot of his wife’s father.

Furthermore, also in the Thomas Yale lot is Polly Yale, wife of Thomas Peaslee, who died 23 April 1870 at age 77.  The age is consistent with the Yale book’s birthdate for Polly.  I’m convinced that Polly Yale Perkins, left a widow with an infant, married again in Oneonta, to a Thomas Peaslee, returning to Connecticut to be buried—census records suggest that she may have outlived her second husband and returned between 10 and 20 years before she died.  All this is speculation; remember what I said about New York records being less than stellar?  So far I've been unable to find a death record for Mark Perkins (nor one for Elijah, who apparently moved to New York as well), nor a birth record for Ursula Perkins, nor a marriage record for either Thomas Peaslee or Polly (Yale) Perkins.  Nor can I find any evidence of a Thomas Peaslee who fits well into this scenario.  I haven’t given up, but as these records are not essential to the present purpose—finding Porter’s royal ancestry—I’m giving it a rest.  That Polly Yale was Ursula Perkins’ mother I have no doubt.

Someday I hope to arrange all the generations in easily-readable, printable form, but that’s a task I’m not willing to tackle at the moment—real life calls—so here is all most of you will want to know, anyway.

The generations to Ursula Perkins from Thomas Yale and Anne Lloyd, English immigrants to the New World and each a “gateway” ancestor to proven royal descent:

Thomas Yale = Anne Lloyd

Thomas Yale = Mary Turner

Thomas Yale = Rebecca Gibbards

Nathaniel Yale = Anna Peck

Abel Yale = Esther Cook

Abel Yale = Sarah Jerome

Thomas Yale = Polly Beckwith

Polly Yale = Mark Perkins

Ursula Perkins = Elbridge M. Wightman, Porter’s great-great-great grandparents

  

I believe these are their pictures; if anyone knows differently, please let me know.

Our relationships to various historical figures; interested parties can calculate their own relationships from there.  Note that this shows only the closest relationships; in many cases there is more than one line to the same ancestor.

Charlemagne, Holy Roman Emperor:  Porter's 37th great-grandfather, Linda's 37th ggf

Alfred the Great: Linda's 36th ggf

King Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine (Becket, The Lion in Winter, buried near and namesake of Château de la Motte Henry in France): Porter's 23rd great-grandparents, Linda's 25th ggp

King John (Lackland) of England (the Magna Charta guy, Robin Hood's enemy—Jonathan may not take this one very well): Porter's 22nd ggf, Linda's 24th ggf

King Duncan I of Scotland (killed by Macbeth): Porter's 27th ggf, Linda's 29th ggf

Saint Margaret of Scotland: Porter's 26th great-grandmother, Linda's 28th ggm

William the Conqueror (1066, Norman Conquest): Porter's 26th ggf, Linda's 28th ggf

There’s a lot more, not only royalty (because they were all so interrelated) but people with names like Ælfweard and Ælfgifu and Gruffudd o’r Rhuddallt ap Madog Fychan ap Madog Crupl, and all sorts of people who no doubt would be at least as interesting as those above if only I knew more European history.  If there’s a relative out there who’s studying any part of European history, let me know, and I’ll see if there’s someone on the list to make it more personal for you.

I'm trying to digest and document the genealogical data I gathered during my recent visit to the NEHGS Library in Boston.  There's much too much to handle all at once—and too many other duties calling—but I am focussing at the moment on getting into publishable form some significant progress I made on one of Porter's lines.

This line includes the first set of Welsh ancestors I've found for Porter.  He's happy with them, even though he worries that Wales is uncomfortably close to Ireland.  He's afraid I'll eventually find Irish ancestors in his tree—not that he has anything in particular against Ireland, but because he will no longer be able to blame my quirks on my Irish blood.  :)

These Welsh ancestors are making my head spin.  I have Welsh lines, too, but haven't yet tried to carry them back beyond the immigrants.  This line of Porter's goes much further into the past, well into the time—which actually isn't all that far back—when Welsh names followed a patronymic system rather than having fixed family surnames.  So I am struggling with names like Gruffyd ap Einion of Gwyddelwern ap Gruffyd ap Llewellyn ap Cynrig ap Osbern Wyddel of Cora y Gedol.  Granted, one gets a lot of genealogy worked into a name that way, but entering it into standard genealogy software is a bit of a challenge.

After all the travelling we did in the last quarter of 2008 and in January of 2009, I, the homebody, was really ready to enjoy a few months with nowhere to go. But "the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley," and in this case I'm thrilled.

Ever since we moved away from Boston, I'd been waiting for Porter to get a job assignment back there so I could stay with him while doing research at the New England Historic Genealogical Society Library on Newbury Street.  He's been all over the country, but never to Boston...until now.

Last week there was an important class being held just outside of Boston, which Porter wanted to attend.  Unfortunately, IBM has had a freeze on educational travel for quite a while.  There's a way to appeal for an exception, but the process can take time.  In this case, Porter learned at 5:00 on Friday afternoon that if he would take care of the airfare and car rental, and do what he could to save money on hotel and meals, he could go.  That meant leaving in less than 48 hours!  He's used to travelling on short notice (though not usually that short), and I guess it's a testament to how much more travelling I've been doing myself recently that I was able to manage it as well.  Those of you who know me know that flexibility and decision-making are not my strong points, but how could I pass up a trip to Boston (even mid-winter) when I could fly on his Southwest companion pass, stay in his hotel, and spend a week at my favorite library?

We even managed to fit in our weekend commitments, such as dinner with friends (Friday), a gardening class at Leu Gardens (Saturday), and church (Sunday), without panicking over preparation time missed.  We managed to get two of the last seats on the one Sunday flight still available, and were winging our way to Providence while most of the rest of the country was celebrating Super Bowl Sunday.

One friend asked if we purchased our winter clothes for the trip.  We didn't, but it was fun remembering that both the boots and the gloves had come from Boston in the first place.  :)  Despite the heavy clothes, we still managed to fit everything into carry-on luggage only—further evidence of having had more air travel experience.  We're not up to Rick Steves' standards yet, but much better than we were.

I've used this post as an opportunity to learn a bit about making my own interactive Google maps, so you can see some of the locations and travel routes here.

View Larger Map

Porter's class was in Bedford, which turns out not to be convenient to any part of Boston's good public transportation system.  No hotel approved by IBM was within walking distance of a reasonable station, so Porter graciously braved the Boston rush hour traffic to transport me to and from the Anderson/Woburn RTC station on the Lowell line.  The Anderson RTC is relatively new—too new to be on any of the maps we had from when we lived there—spacious, pleasant, and warm. The last feature turned out to be particularly important this week, for although the temperatures had moderated from the bitter cold snap of the week before, this Florida girl still finds below-twenty temperatures a bit nippy.

On our way from the Providence airport to Bedford, we drove through Norwood, checked out our old apartment (they've built a whole new house in the formerly-vacant lot next door) and other landmarks, and ate at the Thai Thani restaurant:  it's small but pleasant, and one of our favorite in-town places to eat when we lived in Norwood.  Because of the Super Bowl we were the only customers.

Our first hotel, a DoubleTree, was only a few minutes from the class site, but Porter found a Radisson in Chelmsford for $50 less per night.  For Diamond members like Porter, Hilton properties often provide enough gratis food for both breakfast and dinner, so we had thought we might justify the more expensive hotel by saving on food expenses.  However, this was definitely not that kind of DoubleTree.  The breakfast was okay, though nowhere near the sumptous fare of the DoubleTree we stayed at in Scotsdale, Arizona.  But dinner?  We made one meal out of the potato chips, cookies, and oranges that were provided, then packed our bags and moved to the Radisson.  As it turned out we also saved a little on meals there, though the hotel provided nothing, because from then on we skipped breakfast in order to get me to the train station before the notorious Boston rush hour traffic became totally unbearable.

Monday—while we were still at the DoubleTree—I spent in our hotel room, because the NEHGS library is closed on Mondays.  True, there's plenty more I could have done in Boston, but it was good for Porter to be able to concentrate totally on preparing for his class instead of driving me around, and good for me to have a full day to prepare for the rest of the week.  I spent the day glued to the computer, flipping between my database and the NEHGS Library catalog, making a list of the resources that I thought might be helpful.  Having neglected genealogy for the better part of the past year—and knowing that even with four days ahead of me there would never be enough time to begin to cover all I wanted to—I needed to maximize my efficiency.  Besides, the intensity of diving into my work as soon as Porter left the hotel and not coming up for air till he returned was good preparation for the following days.

After breakfast on Tuesday Porter took me to the station, where I bought my tickets and climbed aboard the commuter train to Boston. Natsukashii!  When we lived in Norwood I would take the Franklin Line into Back Bay or South Station, but the Lowell Line into North Station was similar enough.  There have been some changes since our time, however: the subway tokens have given way to a more modern, card-based fare system.  At North Station I purchased a 7-day unlimited subway pass; for the number of rides I actually took I didn't quite get my money's worth, but the flexibility made the $15 purchase worthwhile.

The Green Line T was always my least favorite of Boston's subway lines, and that's one thing that hasn't changed.  But my first ride was pleasant enough.  As I exited the Copley station I was blessed by gently falling snow.  By evening the snow was not such a blessing, but it made for a very pleasant walk to the library.

It seems incredible that it was four years ago I wrote the following:

[Li'l Writer Guy] rather likes to imagine he’s seated in some academic cloister, inhaling the intoxicating scents of polished wood, leather, and books old and new. On the table before him are the paraphernalia of his profession: stacks of books, pads of paper, writing implements, bookmarks, his laptop computer. Lost in thought, he stares out the window, but he’s not seeing the cityscape. Now and then he rises, and paces between the table and the stacks. At the end of the day, he reluctantly packs up, puts on his coat, and steps into the outside world, blinking owlishly and realizing dimly that time has not stopped for others as it has for him. (Any resemblance of Li’l Writer Guy’s fantasy land to the New England Historic Genealogical Society Library is not coincidental.)

And yet my return to that fantasy land might have been after an absence of a mere week, had not the photocopy system changed in the interim so that my card was no longer good and I lost whatever value had been stored in it.  I'm sure it was less than $5, however, so I wasted no time on regrets but set right to work.

The above description pretty much covers it.  I set up my computer at a desk on the sixth floor, now thoughtfully equipped with surge-protected power strips and free wireless internet access.   Occasionally I stopped to admire the falling snow out the window, but mostly tripped back and forth among the desk, the stacks, and the copy machine.  The main difference between imagination and reality is that in the fantasy version there is plenty of time and I'm not desperately scooping up as much data as I can carry.  Someone asked me what, in particular, I was researching.  The answer is, nothing in particular—and yet everything.  By virtue of the power of exponential expansion, a mere 10 generations back gets one person over 1000 ancestral lines to investigate.  Perhaps someday I'll come to the library for the purpose of doing an intense investigation of one or two questions, but for now I'm still at the stage where there are hundreds of books that might shed light on my family.

At about 4:50 the lights began to flicker, and I realized that I was off by an hour in thinking the library closed at 6:00.  I sent Porter a hasty Pidgin message and scrambled to pack up.  Reversing my morning's travels, I ended up back at the Anderson station where I had a fairly lengthy wait for Porter to arrive, as the beautiful snow had turned into a storm sufficient to snarl the already dense rush hour traffic.  Since by the time we arrived at our new hotel Porter had been driving in the dark and the snow for over an hour, we elected to eat dinner at the hotel dining room and then crash into bed.  It was a portent of things to come—so much for the plans I had had to accomplish things unrelated to genealogy in the "off hours."

On Wednesday we wasted no time on breakfast, but went straight to the train station.  The traffic on 495 was fine, but we weren't on 93 very long before it slowed to a crawl.  I made the 8:30 train, however, and was soon picking up where I had left off so hurriedly the day before.  Most of this day was devoted to one particular line of Porter's, and I believe I made an interesting and exciting discovery, but I'll say no more yet because there's still work to do before I'm satisfied of its authenticity.  The library is open till 9:00 on Wednesdays, so I stayed late, though not till closing.  The traffic was much better, due to both the later hour and the improved weather—although it was quite cold (in the teens), the roads were clear of Tuesday's snow.  We ventured across the street from the hotel for some decent, though not spectacular, Chinese food at Hong & Kong's before collapsing into bed once more.

Thursday we left a little earlier, and the traffic was so much better I caught the 7:38 train.  A good thing, too, as the rest of the trip was delayed, first by the breakdown of a train ahead of us, then by multiple breakdowns on the Green Line.  By the time a Green Line train came there were so many people waiting that the trip would have made a sardine claustrophobic.  As we approached the Arlington station I remembered having looked at the map and wondered why the NEHGS travel directions specified going to the Copley station instead of Arlington, so I happily exited the car one stop early and found that it was, indeed, a better choice.  I walked into the library two minutes after it opened and once again set to work.  The day was pretty much the same except that I didn't even notice this time that I'd missed both breakfast and lunch, I was working so intently.

At closing I took a different path, walking to the Back Bay station where I caught the Franklin line to Norwood.  That would have been really natsukashii except that the train was so crowded I had to stand up the whole way, making it impossible to look out the window and wax nostalgic as we passed the old, familiar stations.  The reason for this trip was to visit some friends from our Norwood church.  Porter joined us soon after I arrived, and we had a great time re-connecting.  If I have any regret about this trip it is that we did not have time to see several other people we would like to have visited.  Guess we'll have to come back.  :)

Friday was the last day, and a short one as Porter's class ended at 3:00.  Although the Green Line was still delayed, I arrived at the library before it opened, so I ordered a cup of tea at TeaLuxe across the street, which our friend Madeline had introduced me to at one of my first visits to the NEHGS.  After that it was full speed ahead once more.  There wasn't enough time; there never is.  But I was ready to leave, feeling saturated with data and having $46.75 worth of copied pages to digest upon returning home.  (My original plan had been to enter the newly-acquired data each night after dinner, but that went by the board the very first night.  I have many weeks' worth of work ahead of me.)

If my goodbyes to the NEHGS were a bit on the sentimental side, my Green Line farewell was made with much less reluctance.  At least on my part—the T itself was perhaps unwilling to let me go, as five trains came in the outbound direction before one going my direction.  At least that one was going as far as North Station.  Part of my quarrel with the Green Line on previous days was that most of the rush hour trains went only as far as Government Center, two stops before North Station.  I never did see a train that would have taken me beyond that; what those going to Science Park or Lechmere were supposed to do, I don't know.  At any rate, this one—so crowded I rode just inside the door, well in front of the while line everyone is supposed to be in back of, and hoping no sudden jerk would impel me out of the car—did get me to the station, where I caught my final Lowell train.  This time when he picked me up at Anderson, Porter took 128 to the Mass Pike, thence to 395 and 95 and finally to Old Saybrook for a delicious dinner with PJS and B&A.  If the primary purpose of this trip was for Porter's class, and the secondary for my genealogical research, the most important one was to visit family.  We spent Friday night in Granby with DSTB, where we delivered a box full of the most amazing and diverse collection of bottle caps that ever thrilled a nine-year-old boy.  We all had fun sorting them on the kitchen table.

We were joined Saturday by PJS for a day of game playing.  Of course Uncle Porter and the boys played PlunderChess and Lord of the Rings Risk, but I really enjoyed Hoopla.  Another highlight was attending a Suzuki cello group lesson at the Hartt School of Music. After dinner we headed for Salem, where we really had time for nothing but a night's sleep, going back to Saybrook early in the morning for the 8:00 service at Grace Episcopal Church.  We checked out a few things related to our upcoming marriage celebration, and truly enjoyed meeting and hearing the rector, Father Charles.  It's a beautiful church.  We had chosen the 8:00 service because it was Rite I, and because we had a brunch date at 10:00, but unlike our church's Rite I service, this one had no music at all, which made it feel a lot less like worship.  Perhaps this summer we can attend a later service.

I loved experiencing the cold and snow of Boston, and I loved even more the weather gift of this day: a touch of spring.  The sun was out and the temperatures above freezing, so ice was melting and the ground gave out the most delicious scent of warming earth.

After brunch and some more visiting time—though again not with everyone we wanted to see—it was time to drive back to Providence and catch our Southwest flight home.  We walked in the door about 8:30, exhausted and happy.

Why do I like our church?  Well, for one thing, during yesterday's service there was not one mention of the Super Bowl.  :)

I did afterwards, in the form of a friend who is a florist commenting that she had the day off because no one schedules a wedding during  the Super Bowl, which led Porter to comment that Super Bowl Sunday may be the only holiday truly observed and respected in America.

Although we watched only about 30 seconds of the game, that half-minute included the game-winning touchdown.  Porter feels towards the Steelers only slightly better than he does towards the Yankees, but I send congratulations to all of our Pittsburgh-area, and Pittsburgh ex-pat, friends.

With a hat-tip to Bill H., another Steeler fan, here's the Super Bowl ad you didn't see.  I believe NBC should have the right to choose the ads it shows, but I like this one, so you can see it here.  No ad revenues generated.  :)  It's safer to watch it right from here; if you go to the YouTube site itself, I recommend avoiding the viewer comments, and I don't vouch for any other videos that might be suggested.