It's not the New York Times, or even the Hartfort Courant, but I'll thank the East Haddam-Haddam Patch for their article on the quilt show, and their mention of Phoebe's Quilt. (H/T PJS) As is true with most newspaper articles I've known the truth about, this one manages to tell gist of the story accurately while erring in the details.
One of the most interesting ... had to be Prudence Sloane’s quilt.
“I inherited a trunk from my mother, this was in the bottom of it,” Sloane said. The quilt contained the names of family ancestors stitched into it.
It turned out the quilt belonged to Phoebe (Burr) Scovil, Sloane’s first cousin four times removed. It was most likely a wedding present from friends and family around 1849. Sewn into each square section of the quilt was a different person’s name.
Sloane’s sister-in-law, Linda Wightman, who was very interested in the family’s genealogy, did research on all the names of the people on the quilt. Wightman even went to Boston to investigate the names in a genealogy library.
Wightman made a booklet and gave it to Sloane as a Christmas present with information on Phoebe and how each person sewn into the quilt was related to her.
The quilt actually belonged to Phoebe L. (Scovil) Bonfoey, who is, indeed, Prudence's first cousin four times removed (and my fourth cousin four times removed, for that matter). Phoebe (Burr) Scovil was her mother. The creation of the quilt was most likely around 1849, the year one of the signers died and one, who signed with her married name, got married. Phoebe herself married Horace A. Bonfoey in 1852.
To say that I "even went to Boston to investigate the names in a genealogy library" sounds rather pathetic unless you realize that I, unlike the quilt, don't live in Connecticut. In any case it's not something to be impressed about; whenever I make the (all too rare) visit to Boston, New York, Hartford, or other research hot spot, it's for a lot more than just the quilt. Most of my research for this project was done using the amazing resources available online. That's not to say I couldn't have walked to Boston in the time it took me to gather the information—not true, but at times it felt like it.
And, hey—they spelled my name right! I'm sure I have Prudence to thank for that.
I created a Wordle picture of all the surnames I have associated with the people who made Phoebe's Quilt: maiden and married names, names of parents, spouses, and spouses' parents. (Click on the image for a larger view.)
The project that consumed my life since mid-January has now reached—not completion, but a stopping point. Deadlines can be a blessing.
This particular deadline was the Haddam Neck Congregational Church Annual Quilt Show, coming this Saturday, April 9. Phoebe’s Quilt will be exhibited there, meaning the real thing, not my book about the signers of this Friendship Quilt. Fortunately, the quilt owner gave me plenty of notice, because when she asked for a few copies of the book to have at the show, I knew I couldn’t simply print them off.
The first edition of Phoebe’s Quilt had bumped up against its own deadline, which was Christmas 2009. I hadn’t thought much about it since, but the knowledge of what had been left undone would not let me rest until I had completed a revised version for the quilt show.
Amazingly, much of what is in the second edition could not have been done two years ago, even without the Christmas deadline. Many of the new facts became available online only in the last few months; even as I was buttoning up the revision more data was appearing, making a third edition inevitable. (More)
Too many short nights. 'Way too many long days. I'm currently babysitting the printer as it struggles with the second edition of Phoebe's Quilt, which I plan to take to Office Max tomorrow later today to have covered and bound. Then I'll pack it off to my sister-in-law so she'll have a few copies when she shows the real thing at the Haddam Neck Congregational Church's Annual Quilt Show this coming Saturday. Hopefully that will generate interest among local folks who might be able to shed light on Haddam 160 years ago and the families I've come to know through this Friendship Quilt.
The printer is silent. Four copies printed. I won't bore you with why it took so long to get four measly copies done, but it almost makes Office Max's charge of 50 cents per (color) copy look reasonable. Almost. Anyway, they're done. Tomorrow I'll change out the exhausted black ink cartridge and hope the (already replaced once) color lasts through one more printing.
Then bind ... ship ... and I'll be FREE! Um, not exactly. There's still some work to do on the pdf version, and of course more research I want to do—eventually. But I'm looking forward to scaling back, a lot, and tackling all the stuff that's been ignored for the last several weeks, including the very lovely Florida spring days that will soon pass into not-so-lovely summer.
Anyway, that's why you haven't heard much from me lately.
The Vintage Bradbury: Ray Bradbury's Own Selection of His Best Stories, by Ray Bradbury (Vintage, 1990) (original copyright 1965)
I picked this book out from my son-in-law's collection because my nephews had recently read Something Wicked This Way Comes for their book club, and I realized I hadn't read any Bradbury in a long time.
Now I'm probably done for another five years or so. Some of the stories were enjoyable, but most I found too weird and depressing for me. Tales of bizarre "healers" whose treatment of choice turns out to be rape, and of children plotting to kill their parents—not to mention babies murdering their mothers!—are not worth spending precious reading time on. I'm very sensitive to the content of what I read and watch—One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest troubled me for years—and find it better not to give my mind too many dark ideas upon which to brood.
On the other hand, nobody writes like Ray Bradbury. I wish he had put his imagination and incredible descriptive skills to a more uplifting purpose; he’s a genius, without doubt. His stories are about as close to poetry as prose can get—at least not without falling into the outlandish world of James Joyce.
And family is family. Ray Bradbury is my sixth cousin twice removed. 
Now I'm probably done for another five years or so. Some of the stories were enjoyable, but most I found too weird and depressing for me. Tales of bizarre "healers" whose treatment of choice turns out to be rape, and of children plotting to kill their parents—not to mention babies murdering their mothers!—are not worth spending precious reading time on. I'm very sensitive to the content of what I read, or watch—One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest troubled me for years—and find it better not to give my mind too many dark ideas upon which to brood.
On the other hand, nobody writes like Ray Bradbury. I wish he had put his imagination and incredible descriptive skills to a more uplifting purpose; he’s a genius, without doubt. His stories are about as close to poetry as prose can get without falling into the outlandish world of James Joyce.Our census form arrived. In a word: B-O-R-I-N-G.
It's a good thing for future genealogists that we have so many other forms of record-keeping, because they won't get much from the 2010 census. Name, sex, date of birth, race in excruciating detail if you're Hispanic, Asian, or Pacific Islander (Dominican? Hmong? Fijian?), relationship to head-of-household (now inoffensively called "Person 1" — also in excruciating detail, distinguishing, for example, between biological and adopted children, which genealogists will love, if no one else). That's only if you're one of the first six people in the household. For Persons 7 through 12 they don't care about your race or exact relationship. And if you're the 11th child in the family? Apparently you're out of luck, but I suspect that may be covered by the "we may call for additional information" caveat that goes with the questions for Persons 7 - 12, since there's also a place to indicate the total number of people in the household.
I wrote before about the interesting information in previous censuses, but I'll repeat it for this occasion. (More)
Article 1, Section 2 of the U. S. Constitution lays the groundwork for conducting a periodic census in order to provide proportional representation in the House of Representatives.
The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members chosen every second Year by the People of the several States.... Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons....
This was modified somewhat by the 14th Amendment, to wit (More)
I had to watch it, since my genealogical organizations, websites, and contacts kept bringing it to my attention: NBC's new genealogy show, Who Do You Think You Are? My reactions? Mixed.
Each week, apparently, the show will present an investigation into the family history of one person. Supposedly these are famous people; I haven't heard of any of them, but that helps me concentrate on the data, which I find more interesting anyway. (More)
UPDATE: The Second Edition of Phoebe's Quilt, corrected and expanded, is now available.
My sister-in-law found it in a trunk: an old, handmade quilt. Each block was inscribed with a name, often a city, and sometimes a Bible verse. The cities and many of the surnames were familiar, but no name was identifiable as that of someone in the family. Who were these people? Whose quilt was it, and when was it made? And how did it end up in Prudence's trunk?
Far be it from me to resist a genealogical puzzle, especially when it can be turned into a Christmas present: I would use my genealogical resources to decipher the quilt, and turn my research into a book to put under the tree. Little did I know how much of my life this little project would consume; I'm certain the quilt itself was completed in less time.
Did I say completed? I doubt I've ever used that word in a genealogical context unless accompanied by "not" or "never." But Christmas will come whether or not we are ready, and thus I was saved from my perfectionist tendencies. The project is as done as it is going to get, barring a second edition. (More)
Like many people, I have mixed feelings about Facebook, finding it simultaneously useful and annoying. But here's a funny thing about Facebook, as reported by Eric Schultz, who is the Chairman of the Board of the New England Historic Genealogical Society and writer of The Occasional CEO. (The NEHGS library, both online and in person, is one of my favorite and most helpful resources for genealogical research.)
This last summer, in the midst of its 164th year, NEHGS had the single greatest month of membership growth ever. Ever.
The reason? Facebook.
Yep, that surprised the board, too.
If you were given an unexpected two weeks in New York City (actually 8.5 weekdays), how would you spend them? Not the way I did, it's a safe bet. While I did manage one or two obligatory tourist trips (more on that later), most of my time was spent at the New York Public Library—you know, the place with the magnificent lions out front, where everyone goes who wants to film something in a library because it's so beautiful. Though in truth I never saw the main part of the building. I made my home in Room 121, the Irma and Paul Milstein Division of United States History, Local History and Genealogy. One of the best resources in the world, a perfect complement to my beloved New England Historic Genealogical Society Library in Boston.
As with February's research trip to Boston, this was an intense time. I estimate I spent 40 hours of those eight and a half days in the library itself; it turned out to be more blessing than bother that it didn't open till 11 a.m., as I needed the morning time to prepare. The library is less than half a mile, a mere eight minute walk, from the Times Square Hilton hotel where we stayed, and what a pleasure it was to sling on my backpack, descend via the Hilton's two elevators to 42nd Street, walk past Bryant Park, and enter the cool, dark research room with its intoxicating smell of old books; then to re-emerge—after gentle prodding by the librarians, who reminded me that the building was about to close—and reverse the trip with a head swimming with new data, and my sweet, hard-working husband and a late dinner to look forward to.
Researching, writing, sitting for hours at a desk poring over books—that which was anathema during my school years gives me such great pleasure now. Who'd have thought?I never could keep cousins straight. First cousins—the children of my parents' siblings—I understood, but I was lost when it came to second and third cousins, let alone those with the "removed" designation. Not that I cared; it was rarely an issue for me. When genealogy entered my life, however, family relationships suddenly needed to be a whole lot more specific.
After much puzzing over confusing definitions and tables, I gained enough head-knowledge to create the following algorithm. My gut instincts in the matter are still a bit fuzzy, so I fall back on the strategy of the confused high school algebra student and rely on formulas. (More)A common theme over at the Front Porch Republic is a respect for place: for home and community, for not only eating locally but being locally, staying in (or returning to) one's hometown rather than venturing off to "better" places. The article Root Hog or Die is where I chose to ask a question that has been bothering me about this approach to life, much as I like some of the ideas. (More)
My great-great-great-grandfather, Nathan Smith, was born in County Tyrone, Ireland, in 1770. His mother died when he was six or seven years old and he was sent to school in Dublin. At the age of 23 he emigrated to the United States. Here is part of his story, as told in excerpts from a manuscript written by his grandson, James Foster, around 1890.
He sailed from Movill Bay in the year 1793, and landed in Philadelphia after a voyage of thirteen weeks on the water. The ship was commanded by a Captain Lovell. Grandfather was prostrate with yellow fever at the time. The ship was condemned and forbidden to enter the harbor. The Captain swore he would land Smith...there or somewhere else worse. Grandfather was taken to the hospital in a very feeble condition, so feeble that he did not expect to recover. But a woman attending the sick cheered him up by telling him she was going to have him for her second husband!
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.
The second reason for being happy to have early New England ancestors is that so many other people have researched those lines already. In many cases, all I have to do is find the right books. That’s not as easy as it sounds, but it is what has enabled me to trace our lines so extensively. (More)
