The Friendly Beasts: Life on the Family Farm

Many of my favorite Christmas carols when I was a child were those that told the story of Jesus' birth with a large cast of humble and gentle animals; they appear in The Little Drummer Boy, where "... the ox and lamb kept time," as well as such traditional ones as the English The Friendly Beasts, and the French (but with Latin words) Hez, Sir Asne, Hez. For one thing, they tell you something about people's familiarity with domestic beasts for hundreds -- well, thousands -- of years. It seemed only natural that these creatures should take part in an event as important as Christmas. They wee part of the family; we took care of them, and they took care of us.

The Three Kings on exotic steeds

Though traditions could get quite exotic; my aunt had a lovely creche which included not only the humble oxen, sheep, and and donkey, but the Arabian stallion, camel, and elephant that the Three Kings rode in on! I've seen others with a cougar, a raccoon, and a coyote, and one with zebras, elephants, and giraffes!
Like most people, most of my forbears were farmers who knew how to live off the land, and make the most of everything that grew, grazed, and laid eggs, and had intimate knowledge of working animals. My mom's parents, Maggie McGillivray and Will Carpenter, both grew up in rural situations, combining small businesses with small family farming, with their own chickens and kitchen gardens, home-made bread and vegetables put up every summer. My grandfather's family also kept a lot of draft horses, to be used not only on their own farm, but also to be hired out whenever neighbors needed heavy haulage.  My grandfather's grandfather, Simeon Carpenter, and his son, Tyler Carpenter, were well-known in their hometown of Sutton, Massachusetts, as expert team drivers and in fact usually won the "Large Draft Team" hauling event at the annual farming exhibition there, with enormous draft horses and even oxen.

It's been a bit of late 20th century worldly wisdom that a successful working farmer needed to be unsentimental about animals;  beasts in the field were given to us to work and make themselves useful, and if they failed in that, there was no place for them. Well, on the evidence of my grandfather's own words, I don't think so. When he was in his eighties, my mom wrote down some of his reminiscences of life on the farm. And from a distance of more than sixty years, he remembered with much affection the working horses he knew, not just their names, but the appearance and personality of each one!

These are Will Carpenter's own words:
"I have always been a great lover of animals, especially horses, and I may say there was one mare of Morgan descent that I loved especially. She was handicapped by reason of a serious barbed wire cut on her right foreleg, on the upper part of the arm and below the shoulder. We had named her Dollie. There was another filly named Jessie. Dollie was a spirited animal, and when there was a running contest she was the one to be in the lead!

Her injury was quite a while in healing, and Dollie never did get perfect control of that injured leg. But she was the smoothest one to ride on that we had.

There was another horse that we called Old Blind Charley. He was much lighter in color that bay, what you would call a fawn color. Then there was Old Nell. She had a balky streak in her make up.

Then there was Little Nell, of Morgan ancestry, a very energetic mare and a very good roadster, and there was another named Nettie. She was dark brown with a white star on the forehead and three white feet. Little Nell was a beautiful bay. She and Nettie were driven together quite a lot and Nettie was always willing that Nell should lead off.

Then there was a gelding by the name of Prince; he was a little lighter in color than a bay. He was an easy rider on the lope, but quite jouncy on the trot.

Nett was the mother of a brown colt that we named Dick. He had a white star on his forehead and two white feet.

Then we had a gelding named Ben, who was brown in color, and not very big as compared with the other horses, but was very tough for his size. I remember one time I had him weighed and his weight was 835 pounds, not much for a full grown horse. He was a sporty sort! He liked to tease the other horses when they were running loose together."

He mentions an injured horse, who never fully recovered, and a blind horse, who were kindly cared for despite their limitations. This certainly undercuts the image of farmers grimly determined to view their working animals as cogs in a machine!

The active young farm boy that Will Carpenter was admired and valued traits like spirit and energy in the creatures that he worked with every day. As a man, these were qualities he encouraged in his children, live wires all, and grandchildren, too!

He and his wife of more than 65 years, Margaret McGillivray Carpenter, also loved cats. Below is a photo of them in their later years -- they are both holding kittens:

Margaret McGillivray Carpenter and William Waters Carpenter

Family History: A Letter from Camp Pomperaug

Letter from Camp Pomperaug
This letter was sent by a 14-year-old Boy Scout to his family in Bridgeport, CT; it was postmarked Aug 9, 1934, and the postage cost three cents.

“Dear Dad and Mother:

This is the first and the longest letter I am going to write. Pomperaug is quite a long way from home and it took us nearly two hours to get here. When I came David met me and showed me around.

Historic Camp Pomperaug

Camp is a pretty big place and there are four units, the Pirates, Pioneers, Mohawks, and Diamond 8. I got into the Pioneers, where David is. There are six tents in the Pioneer camp, one for the leaders and the others for the boys. Each tent sleeps eight kids in four double bunks. I have a lower as I told you. The food isn’t bad but I’ve seen better cooks. The boys all say that the one they had last year was much better. Tell Eric I saw Dan Ryan doing a very undignified job for a president or the Junior Post. He was cleaning potatoes. I also saw Cliff Gruber and he looked swell. They sure have a nice staff up here. I like “Stubby” Isham best. In the water activities we have four classes, Splashers, the ones who can’t swim well, Turtles, good swimmers, Water Dogs, good swimmers and divers, and Life Guards who are the best swimmers and also take first aid work. I passed my Turtle test the first day.
I have good tent mates and we are already friends.

At Camp Pomperaug

I took several pictures today and in a “treasure hunt” I won a bar of chocolate. I had to wash dishes for our table for three meals and Saturday and Sunday I have to wait on our table.
And Dad, my flash burnt out, so would you send me two batteries and a bulb? If it’s not too much, would you get me a cheap hunting knife? Everybody wears them here, from Tenderfoot to Camp Director.
I intend to become a second class scout this Sunday. It won’t be necessary to send me the bankbook, as I banked the two dollars, so that counts for thrift. I’ve only spent fifty cents so far, 45 cents for a jersey and a nickel for candy. I only bought one sweater because the kids tell me you go around half bare most of the time.
I got a big chunk of red cedar and I’m going to make a neckerchief slide! I’m also going to make a copper Indian bracelet and a braided whistle cord.
This is a kind of mixed letter, but I didn’t expect to write so much, so please excuse it.
How is everybody? What are you doing? How about writing quick? I’ve been here a day and a half and not a single letter!
Tell Eric to give my regards to Eddie and Yugs, and Freddie, and the rest.
I still love you all and want you to write.
Well, that’s all. So long.
Carl"



The scout in question became an Eagle Scout, and eventually a scientist and engineer. He remained an accomplished woodsman, however, and swimmer and certified scuba diver, eventually amassing a collection of shells he harvested himself. Oh, and he did get that hunting knife!

His best friend, David, also a future Eagle Scout, who met him on his arrival, became a distinguished Professor of Mathematics at Swarthmore College.

The scout's mother saved this letter for more than thirty years.

Camp Pomperaug is still owned and operated by the Boy Scouts of America Connecticut Yankee Council.


Camp Pomperaug today

Wills and Testaments: What a Fabulous Resource!

The internet is a wonderful thing. Recently, millions of will and probate records have been put online, going back to the 1600's! And that is just a gift to the genealogical researcher -- or anyone interested on what life was like in the past. 
First of all, it can clear up family questions like who was married to who, and when, and who was whose child. Of course, it can also raise questions -- going back to my ancestor Richard Waters, whose will was probated in 1725, revealed a son previously unknown to me. 
But more than that, these carefully detailed documents tell so much about what life was like at that time, in that place (His Majesty's Province of Massachusetts Bay, in this case). It also tells you that this particular family was doing very well. 
Richard Waters was born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1669; he obtained a large amount of land in Sutton, Mass., and moved the family there. He married at a rational age of 28, and proceeded to have eight children. He died at the relatively early age (for my family) of 55. Perhaps he knew he was unwell, because he left a comprehensive will that expressed his wishes. 
Here's part of it:

            ..."I give to my dearly beloved wife Martha my house, household stuff, all my Lands (at my present dwelling) within fence whether arable, pasture or mowing lands about my house and all my moveables of cattle, horses, swine, tackling for husbandry, for her lifetime, save my Mendon* Oxon, iron-bound wheels, timber chain, breaking plow, reserved for my two eldest sons Richard and Samuel to be divided in equal shares between them"

So obviously Martha was trusted to be in charge of the very prosperous farm. (I have been unable to figure out how he's describing the oxen; there is a town of Mendon, Mass, and maybe he bought them there.) Next:

  

       "...ITEM I give to my eldest son Richard (beside that above named to him) one hundred and forty acres of Land at the South End of my Farm, so that he pay seventy pounds to my daughter Abigail his sister, twenty pounds when she is of the age of 21 years, the residue five years after that.

ITEM I give and bequeath to my son Samuel one hundred and forty acres of land lying on my (…) Hill and upon Oxford road, leading to Sutton besides that which was reserved to him out of that which I left to his mother, so that he pay to his sister Mercy Twenty pounds at her arriving to Twenty one years of Age Twenty Pounds; and Fifty pounds more five years after that.

ITEM to my Son Ebenezer I give one hundred and thirty acres of Land upon the above described (…) Hill lying by his Brothers so that he may pay seventy pounds to his sister Mary, Twenty when she is come to twenty one years of Age, and Fifty pounds five years after Item the Residue of my Land upon the Farm of my later Dwelling I give in equal proportion to my three above named Sons and Amos my youngest, to be divided into four equal shares to serve them all for Timber and Firewood."

This is so interesting. First of all -- what a lot of land! Secondly, I'm not a wills expert, but I've never seen anything like the provision whereby each brother is directed to take care of a sister. I wonder why it was done this way? Were single females not allowed to own land and money outright? Or was it just against convention for them to do so? Anyway, this provided these ladies with very respectable dowries. 

And another thing that's interesting just from a family viewpoint -- my ancestors seem to have a very long history with heavy haulage of various types; note the team of oxen, the iron-bound wheels, the

A very handsome team of oxen

timber chain, and the breaking plow. A few generations later, my great-great-grandfather Tyler Carpenter and his father were winning an oxen-pull at the annual farming exhibition in Sutton in the 1830s. And my grandfather and his brothers had their own threshing business traveling throughout the midwest during the wheat harvest, and at first a team of large draft horses were used to haul the threshing machines. Soon these teams were replaced by trucks, true; but my grandfather really loved those horses. 

This is from an actual receipt for feed for my grandfather's horse team

The last part is interesting, too:
"...ITEM  If my Wife can preserve the Homestead left with her, my will is that my Son Amos inherit it after her, he paying out to my Daughter Lois Twenty Pounds at her coming to Twenty one years of age, and Fifty pounds five years after.

ITEM I desire my Wife to pay as soon as she can five pounds as soon as may be to my Daughter Abigail as a Consideration to her steady dutifulness and usefulness in the Family and Twenty shillings apiece to her, with her three Sisters to fulfill a Legacy from their Elder, and now deceased Sister to them.

ITEM I would have my Executors pay to right after decease Twelve pounds in money to my Son Richard."

The deceased sister was Hannah, who was born in 1699 but had died by 1725; I suppose her father divided up what would have been her portion between her sisters. And what a nice compliment to Abigail!

They sound like a close, affectionate family, who have worked very hard and succeeded very well.

The Waters farm is still there, a lovingly preserved part of old Sutton, Massachusetts, and various celebrations of local traditions are held there: The Waters Farm

My Brick Wall

Everybody who does genealogy eventually has one -- a mystery ancestor, an individual who just stays out of focus, misty, distant -- the opposite of the experience you usually have of filling in detail after detail about a person who lived two or three hundred years ago until it seems as it you knew them.
My brick wall is my great-great-grandfather -- my grandmother's grandfather. Maggie McGillivray, my grandmother, was born in Canada. Her father, Hugh McGillivray, emigrated from Scotland to Ontario, Canada, with his father, Donald. Her mother, Jane Irvine, was born in Canada; Jane's mother, Marion Orr, also emigrated from Scotland to Ontario with her entire family, including parents, grandparents, sister Catherine and brothers George (Geordie) and William. In about 1854, Marion married and had a daughter, Jane, in 1855.
And here's Mr. Brick Wall. Apparently Marion's husband died even before his child was born. All we know about him is the information entered on the marriage record of his and Marion's daughter, Jane, twenty-one years later. There are no photos or other records that I have been able to discover.
His name -- apparently -- was John Irvine, and he was -- apparently -- born in Ireland.
I have been able to discover no record of a single Irishman of this name in Canada in 1850-1855. There are older men named John Irvine, there is a young father named John Irvine in Quebec -- but no one the right age.
Of course, it's quite possible that, after more than 20 years, the older members of the family who filled out his daughter's marriage papers remembered his name wrong. It could have been Ervine, or Irving, and his first name might not have been John -- it might have been Ewan, Ian, or Owen. John could have been his middle name. His name could have been Jonathan. Or St. John.
The one thing I'm 90% sure of is that he was a Protestant, probably Presbyterian, as was the entire Orr family and the McGillivray family; they were very serious about these things in those days.
Of course, there are other ancestors that I haven't been able to identify -- but this is the closest one to me in time. I can see the faces of his contemporaries on both sides of the family; his widow, Marion, remarried and had several more children. The man his daughter Jane married, Hugh, immigrated to Canada from Scotland with his widowed father when he was a boy, and his father also remarried and had more children. On my father's side, I have found records of his grandparents, great-grandparents,  and beyond. I know the names of their siblings, their spouses, and their children, where they lived, and what happened to them. Some lived what seem (seen through public records) to be placid lives -- of course, they weren't at all placid to the people who lived them. Others were involved in great public events, from the Mayflower to the Revolutionary War to World War 2, and revealed such exciting stories, not to mention throwing light on areas of history that I had no knowledge of. And I expect to find out more.
But this one ghost lingers, shrouded in mystery, barely visible.

Records of Ontario Marriages:

History at Home: A Lucky Find

Will and Margaret Carpenter.
They were married in  1901

After my mother died, we found a couple of cardboard boxes full of papers, which had apparently been sent to her after her parents passed away. She probably intended to sort through them, but never got around to it. The papers are a jumble of my great-grandfather's business correspondence and personal letters between my grandparents, who were often separated because his business at that time, traveling throughout the midwest harvesting wheat, took him away from home. Both he and my grandmother were faithful correspondents. Their letters are factual and chatty, full of family news, plans that were never fulfilled -- and some that were. Both of they had very busy lives, with a lot of social activity based around the Baptist church they attended.


As a historical resource, these letters tell us a lot about the lives, the expectations, the responsibilities of a hard-working middle-class family. But in general, they weren't concerned with the events of the day. They were unaffected by Prohibition, for instance, because they were both teetotalers, having "taken the pledge" many years before.
But historical events pop out in unexpected places.
I was reading one letter, dated May 21, 1927, from my grandmother to my grandfather, and found a surprise at the end. They were discussing a move they were planning and how they would have their furniture moved in one weekend, which was mildly interesting. She closed, as she always did, with an exact description of her actions: "Well, I must close now, as I will just have time to drop this off at the Post Office in time for the last post."

But this time, there was one additional line at the end of the page, in an unusually loose, excited scrawl:

"Lindbergh made it!"  

About the famous flight

So You Think You're a History Buff: 1776 and All That

Two frigates battle at sea

Researching my ancestors has certainly shown me that I'm not as smart as I thought I was. Or at least not as well-informed.

For example, I recently discovered another Revolutionary War veteran, my 4th great grandfather, William Page. He was born in Rhode Island, and was commissioned as a Lieutenant in Col. Robert Elliott's Artillery Regiment. The bare bones of his wartime service are as follows: he served with the regiment for three years, being appointed Captain in 1779. 1n April 1780 he was discharged -- and returned home to Rhode Island to serve as a Gunner on a frigate called the Deane, commanded by Captain Samuel Nicholson. In seeking out details of his service I have found much that I didn't know about the Revolution -- first, that the Colonies barely had a Navy, and it's a really good thing for us that the British Navy was actually in pretty bad shape, too. Even luckier for us was the presence of Benjamin Franklin as our representative in France; if he hadn't charmed the French into supporting us we probably couldn't have won the war.

And eventually I was able to find out a great deal more about William Page's war, and it is quite illuminating. The National Archives in Washington has scanned a sizable portion of their priceless collection of Revolutionary era documents and put them online for anyone to look at. I found a large number of papers documenting William Page's service which were sent by him to the War Department in support of his pension application. It's thrilling to see his first commission, dated January 3, 1777,  and signed by the then governor of the state, Richard Cooke.  And his discharge paper is also included, hand written (by the regimental secretary, probably) and signed by the commander, Col. Robert Elliott.

Col. Silas Talbot

Even more fascinating are the recollections of William's widow, Betsey, which were included in additional papers sent to Washington in support of her application for a widow's pension. She recalled that William had essentially been lent to a seafaring expedition headed by one of our few successful marine commanders, Capt. Silas Talbot, while he was still technically in the Army. When the war began, Talbot, an immensely experienced and capable commercial sea captain who resided in Rhode Island, joined the 2nd Rhode Island Regiment. His sailing skills were apparently well-known, and he took part in a daring attack on British warships in 1776. Since the United States really had no official Navy, at this point sea battles and campaigns were actually carried out by men who had enlisted in various militias or the army.

The Colonies had few ships suitable for standing up to the might of the British fleet; our most successful tactic was privateering -- which is about one step above actual piracy. Privateers were warships that were privately owned, or at least partially privately owned, and contracted by the government to attack the enemy's commercial shipping and supply lines; the ship's company would then get to keep whatever they seized, sell it, and split the profits.

American ships successfully harassed, crippled, and robbed British vessels, in one case sailing as far as the Bahamas to appropriate the contents of a storehouse full of gunpowder and shot. Of course, the British also sent privateers to raid the New England coast, and our privateers were sent to stop them and recover their cargoes and weapons, if possible, and commandeer the ships themselves. Silas Talbot -- who by this time was confusingly actually a Lieutenant Colonel -- conducted several raids on British ships as a privateer and took several. And according to William Page's widow, Betsey, William sailed with him as a gunner several times while he was actually in the Army. He probably sailed on the Picot, a ship captured from the British, and/or the sloop Argo.

Now, this does not show up in the official record anywhere that I have found; but it seems unlikely that she would be mistaken about such a thing, since it didn't affect her own pension application one way or the other -- she had no motive to lie. And how else would she even know about Capt. Talbot's activities?

A Revolutionary Era frigate

These adventures must have taken place before 1780, because Talbot was captured by the British and spent about two years as a prisoner of war.  He annoyed his captors exceedingly by constantly trying to escape, and was exchanged pretty quickly. William Page was assigned to the frigate the Deane for about two years of probably considerably less exciting duty, under Capt. Samuel Nicholson.

So my ancestor did practically everything in the Revolutionary War; he was a militiaman, an Army regular, an artillery officer, a naval officer, a ship's gunner, and practically a pirate!

This whole story illustrates one of the key features about the Revolutionary forces that helped to defeat the British psychologically -- first, the enormous number of skilled and capable people the new nation could call on; and second, our ability to improvise. This was something the British Military, with its entrenched hierarchy, could not understand or cope with.

More about Silas Talbot

Wikipedia

Talbot Collection, Mystic Seaport

More about Capt. Samuel Nicholson

Wikipedia

More about the USS Deane

Wikipedia

Still Waiting for That Time Machine: Facts Can't Explain Everything

The internet is such a wonderful tool that we tend to forget that you still can't solve every problem. It's such a thrill to find scans of the original birth records, enlistment papers, or hand-written census reports! I've been researching ancestors in Sweden as well as the more famous early Americans, and I've discovered some amazing stories that I'm pretty sure neither my father, on the Swedish side, or my mother, on the half-Scottish side, knew.

My Swedish grandmother was the most upright person imaginable, without being the least bit starchy or stuffy. She was very religious, but she felt that it was her private business and didn't preach. She loved having a good time, and my father described her admiringly as being "always a good sport" no matter how much her two witty sons teased her. However, as it turns out, her background held a secret that astonished me; I'm sure my father didn't know about it and I wonder if my grandmother did. But what I have discovered has given me insight into her character.

Carolina aged about 43

For it turns out that not only was her mother, Carolina, my great-grandmother, "almost" illegitimate herself -- her parents, strongly influenced by the local clergy, were married a couple of months after she was born in 1850 -- but my grandmother's older half-sister, Elsa Maria, was undeniably illegitimate. One might even say deliberately illegitimate; Carolina was 29 when her first daughter was born, and when the time came she left the provincial city where she lived, Falu Kristine, and went to a large and anonymous hospital in Stockholm, where the birth was recorded with no father's name given. And there doesn't seem to be any way to find out who it might have been; clearly Carolina wanted nothing to do with him and in fact was, remarkably, an independent working woman already -- this in 1879. She supported herself as a baker, or more specifically in Swedish "Brodbakerska" or bread-baker.

Baking the Bread by Anders Zorn

Somehow Carolina met my great-grandfather, Carl Erik, who was widowed with three children, and they married -- just in time, as their son was born 7 months after their marriage. Their daughter, my grandmother, was born 13 months later, and then another

 Carl Erik aged about 22

unexplained thing happened -- Carolina took her three children and moved back to Falu Kristine where they lived separately from her husband until her sudden illness and death fourteen years later. There was no divorce, and seem to be no written records of why this happened.

Carolina's older daughter, Elsa Maria, took her stepfather's name but was not happy at home. She was a small, pretty girl, with curly dark hair, and extremely courageous as well, for she decided to leave Sweden and emigrate to America alone, at the age of nineteen. She went first to Minnesota, where she met another Swedish emigrant and married him, and the couple eventually settled in Spokane, Washington. My grandmother was about ten when her sister left for good, and I believe they lost touch completely, and neither knew what had become of the other.

I was so glad to find out so much about my great-aunt's story, for she had a happy marriage and family life, and is remembered with love by grandchildren and great-grandchildren. But so much mystery remains about the life of her mother, that strong-minded woman, Carolina. How was she able to live independently in Sweden in the 1870's? What circumstances caused her to have an illegitimate child at 29? How did she meet Carl Erik? (I suspect it was church-related, which is a little weird in itself.) Why did they marry in haste and then separate?

Unfortunately, wonder as I might, none of these questions are likely to ever be answered, unless one of the principals involved kept a diary or something, which is highly unlikely. The family were Methodists, so the local Lutheran pastor who was responsible for keeping town records apparently wasn't involved when the couple decided to separate. No one involved ever wrote any letters that I've heard about.

I think what I know of this story does explain a bit about my grandmother; when, after her mother's sudden death, she returned to live with her father at his lovely traditional home in the country, her older sisters welcomed her with open arms, and she was grateful for their affectionate acceptance all her life. She adored her father, and the feeling was mutual; he was a very successful owner of a busy foundry, but he was loved by his children and very much a part of their lives. Her sisters taught her all the traditional skills, like cooking and sewing, and she became exceptionally good at all kinds of needlework. For her traditional values were a liberation; living with a mother who lived apart from her husband must have caused a certain amount of gossip and tension, which I'm sure she would have hated.

Breakfast Under the Birch Tree by Carl Larsson
(notice the dog sitting at the table)

On the other hand, she was very artistic, and eventually attended the Folk-Art School founded by the Swedish artists Anders Zorn and Carl Larsson, where the staff included Gerda Romson and Meit Skeri, who are both being rediscovered as artists today. She loved the school, and kept in touch with many of her friends there even after marrying and emigrating to America. She had wonderful taste, and was never without some ongoing needlework project. But she always rejected the bohemian lifestyle that had become fashionable in Sweden in her youth, and always sincerely attended church and kept to the strait and narrow. And I think I now know why; her mother's life was a warning to her.

I'll probably never know much more about my great-grandmother. Records can explain some things, I'll admit that. But until that time machine comes along, we'll still have to accept unsolvable mysteries.

(An interesting piece about the Swedish art/folk art world that meant so much to my grandmother: Carl Larlsson Friends and Enemies)

The Scarlet Letter: Not Quite So Puritanical, It Seems

On the other hand -- my brave Mayflower ancestor, John Howland, who married the orphaned Elizabeth Tilley and had 10 children also, later in life, had to pay a fine for having an affair with woman not his wife.

Hester Prynne wearing The Scarlet Letter

So he wasn't exactly Mr Sqeaky-clean! He wasn't there for religious reasons; he just needed a job.

Our Ancestors Heard the Fife and Drum

Discovering that at least one of my direct ancestors served rather extensively in the Revolutionary War has, of course, made me more interested in that amazing start to our country. First, there's the continual astonishment at the brilliant individuals who created the basic framework that we take so much for granted -- John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, and the gift that was George Washington. Each one was a leader to be proud of; together they were world-shatterers. 

For some reason, the Revolution has been the subject of far fewer films and TV programs; perhaps it's just too complex. But a  few recent works are freely available and very informative: first, John Adams, starring Paul Giamatti as Adams and Laura Linney as the remarkable Abigail Adams. with other terrific performances by Tom Wilkinson as Franklin and Stephen Dillane as Jefferson. My favorite scene in this occurs when Jefferson is in the process of writing the Declaration of Independence,  and Adams and Franklin go to see him to see how it's going. But Jefferson, the inventor, has also just created the swivel chair, and he and Franklin start getting into practical mechanics, much to Adams' annoyance!

I have also been reading a fascinating book about the military history of the war, which I know nothing about. This novelization of the story, by Jeff Shaara, which is in two parts -- Rise to Rebellion and The Glorious Cause -- tell you all about the people involved, from General Washington to General Cornwallis, the tactics, the weapon, the blunders, the successes. It's hugely informative. And pretty darn long. I just had to force myself to put it down long enough to write this!

Serviceable: Capable of Being Put to Good Use

Looking back, it seems that everyone on my mom's side of the family set great store by practical skills and competence of all kinds. One very cool fact I've discovered is that my Waters ancestors were also descended from the Manning family back in the Old Country (England, that is). James Waters (1572-1617) was married to Phebe Manning, whose uncle was an armorer for Henry VIII. Henry VIII! I'm thinking you had to be a pretty darn good armorer to successfully produce arms for Henry VIII. The consequences of customer dissatisfaction could probably be severe.

The client

James, the nephew-in-law, was an ironsmith, and he died in England; his widow remarried and emigrated with her new husband, William Plasse, a gunsmith, and all their children to Massachusetts. One can infer that men and women became acquainted and eventually paired off with others in the same artisanal social set; Phebe, from a metalsmithing family, married first an ironsmith and then a gunsmith. If your family were  wheelwrights, you would probably know other wheelwrights. Richard, James' son, also became a gunsmith -- and, as such, was an incredibly valuable craftsman to the colony. The town of Salem, in fact, gave Plasse (or Place, as it was often written) and his blended family a house as a perk for establishing his business there.

Wasn't that a good deal! And it was a pretty clear object lessons for the family's descendants -- knowing how to do something useful is a very good thing. There are all sorts of interesting and, when you think about it, necessary skills and trades on this side of the family, besides, of course, the always important farming.  Blacksmithing, cider pressing, shingle-making -- all things people really need.

My great grandfather had a farm in Minnesota, and he and his four sons also had a broom factory. (Their product was a real necessity -- think of women trying to keep a homestead out on the prairie tidy without a proper broom.) In about 1909, this burned down, but a few years later the older sons opened another broom factory, which was still going in the 1960's. We visited my grandfather there, and still have some of his handmade pieces. They're fifty years old,  and they're beautiful, practical, and completely untouched by plastic.

The Carpenter Bros broom factory

My grandfather -- and my mom, too -- had the greatest respect for practical knowledge. He could do practically anything himself; in fact, he impressed the heck out of me once when I was seven years old, and with his own hands he sewed the loose eye back onto my stuffed bear!

*NOTE: I had to change the title of this post because it kept being linked to a popular movie. Sorry about that!

A New Eden

Okay, so it's true that there are probably millions of descendants of the Mayflower passengers. In the first year of the settlement about half of them died, but the ones who survive were tough. And they tended to have big families. John Howland and Elizabeth Tillley had ten children, and they all had big, healthy families.

One of the amazing things about getting to know these early settlers is how extremely healthy and long-lived they were (if they survived at all), especially compared to the folks back home. From dirty, smoky, crowded cities and small tenant farms they moved to an area rich in farmland, fish, and timber, completely free of pollution. Certainly there was hunger, cold, and disease; but when they did get food it was pure and fresh. No plastic refuse clogged the streams; no nitrogen dioxide or sulfer dioxide poisoned the air. Imagine how clear the sky must have been, day and night!

The Waters Farm in Sutton, MA

These first two survivors both lived to be very old for those days. And a lot of their descendants did, too, at least the ones in my background. Amongst my grandfathers' forebears, the Waters family settled in Sutton, MA; the first Waters to arrive in Sutton, Richard, was born in 1700, and was a third-generation North American. He lived to be 87 -- which is pretty old now. His great grandfather, who lived all his life in London, died at the age of 39. The family became major apple growers, providing high-quality fruit for food -- and cider.. My grandfather said that his mother kept up the family tradition of making sure that each child always had an apple a day, for health.

These long-lived people also had very large families, eight or ten children not being unusual. So it's not really surprising that the first settlers are usually credited with literally millions of descendants. But it's still meaningful to discover that some great people are your actual blood relatives. I don't really know if it's a natural human instinct to seek a clan, or simply something our culture values. But I must say it is a great satisfaction to me to share certain forefathers with Ralph Waldo Emerson, Maude Adams, and Franklin Roosevelt! Not to mention Dr. Spock, Christopher Lloyd, and, my favorite of all -- Humphrey Bogart.

Cousin Humphrey and friend

Information about the historic Waters Farm is here:
http://www.watersfarm.com/

It Must Be the Dutch Blood....

...because I've always liked tulips, blue and white porcelain, and cocoa!

The Old Country, as my grandmother used to say