Several years ago, the National Geographic Society launched an ambitious program to study the DNA of volunteers more deeply than any other DNA study. They went back hundreds of thousands of years, tracing DNA changes that gave a picture of the proto-migrations of the ancestors of these volunteers, including me.
For some reason, earlier this year, they shut the program down.
But wow -- you wanna talk about migrations?
My DNA reveals, first of all, that I am 2.1% Neanderthal and 1.1% Denisovan. This led some waggish friend of mine to state that this means I am 3.2% extinct. Sometimes I feel like it.
It also means my ancestors range from France and Germany to Siberia, where the offshoot Denisovan branch was found in a series of caves, the Denisova Caves.
According to the National Geographic Society's study, the Genographic Project, "Most non-Africans are about 2 percent Neanderthal and slightly less than 2 percent Denisovan." Proof that Homo Sapiens and these cousins of theirs did interbreed.
These migrations are of my maternal line, since females do not receive the Y chromosome from their fathers; only sons do.
Our DNA carries genetic markers, records in the DNA of mutations that occurred as new DNA was added to the mixture that is us.
Note to White Supremacists: You are not as lily-white as you like to think you are.
The first marker in my DNA is referred to as Branch L3, and originated in East Africa around 67,000 years ago. It is one of two lineages of the first modern humans (homo sapiens) to leave Africa and go north or east. My folks got in early on the migration thing!
Within L3 marker carriers developed Haplogroup N, one of two groups produced by those L3 ancestors. That was about 60,000 years ago. Some ended up in parts of East Asia, others in southern Europe.
Possibly the first family squabble, though a genetic one rather than social, economic, religious, or political in origin, came when Haplogroup R arose out of Haplogroup N, about 55,000 years ago in West Asia.
These two groups lived and migrated together, and their descendants "dominate the European maternal landscape, making up 75 to 95 percent of the lineages there."
Hi, cousin!
Then, about 25,000 years ago, Haplogroup T arose out of R. This is the bunch credited with the development of agriculture in the Fertile Crescent, in the Middle East. These people spread all over, carrying their newly developed agriculture with them.
Then came T2, about 19,000 years ago in West Asia. It spread across Anatolia (Turkey and its neighbors) and into Europe. This group is found in such varied places as Iraq (21% of maternal lineage), Croatia (16%), Greece (11%), Belgium (15%), Denmark (13%), and Switzerland (11%), among others. My mother has proven Swiss ancestry.
Finally, there's T2b, arising around 10,000 years ago, again in West Asia. It also went all over Eastern and Western Europe. It constitutes about 5% of the population of the British Isles, where my ancestors on both sides came from in the 1600s and 1700s.
My recent regional ancestry -- between 5,000 and 10,000 years ago -- is an interesting mix indeed.
I am:
45% Northern European. That's no surprise, really.
37% Mediterranean. That is a surprise, but it includes Iberia, and maybe explains my fondness for and facility with the Spanish language.
16% Southwest Asian. Total surprise! This includes the Arabian Peninsula, India, Pakistan, Iran, and Tajikistan. Wow.
2% Northeast Asian. Another surprise. This includes Japan, China, and Mongolia.
Well, there I am. More of a mixture than I would ever have thought.
I used to be impressed by my ancestors' migrations from Europe (mostly English, possibly Scots and/or Irish, and that little bit of Swiss) and across Canada and the United States. This totally blows it away!
The Genographic Project came under fire from indigenous peoples as racist, but I don't see it that way. In fact, it has shown me that there is no such thing as a "pure" lineage, or a "pure" race, as we all carry parts of many different peoples within us. I like that. I think it makes us way more interesting. I think it points up what I hold to be true: there is but one race -- the human race.
It is a real pity that the NGS cancelled the Genographic Project. I would have loved to know more.
Thursday, April 23, 2020
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
A to Z Challenge On the Move: F is for Florida
In the 20th century, members of both sides of my family -- the Packards (Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, Canada, Illinois, California) and the Reeds (Ohio and Indiana) -- have ended up in Florida.
My mother, born in Detroit, ended up in Florida as a child in 1920, and was raised here. Her adoptive father was a railroad freight agent in Pensacola. My father came to Florida after graduating from the Naval Academy and service on aircraft carriers, for flight training in 1937. He was born in California.
They married here, and their oldest child, my sister, was born here in 1938. My brother was born here in 1942, when my father came back to Florida, stationed in Miami.
We spent time here as a family in the early 1950s, as my father took various engineering jobs in Jacksonville and in Pensacola. Then we went back to California, as my father's family was there.
Finally, my mother brought my sister, my brother, and me back to Florida after Dad died, to be with her adoptive mom and sister for help with raising us. That was in 1954. Mom's biological sister and brother also lived in Florida. Later, a Packard aunt and uncle also relocated to Florida.
Though I was born in California, I have lived most of my life here, and now I consider myself "Floridated."
Within Florida, my husband and I have taken our family from Jacksonville, where he was born and raised, and where our older daughter was born, to St. Petersburg, where our younger daughter was born while my husband was stationed there in the Coast Guard.
After he was released from active duty, we returned to Jacksonville. We lived there several years, then made a short migration to the county just south-southwest of Jacksonville, where we live now.
During our time in our present home, we have separately spent time outside of Florida. My husband took a special assignment in the Coast Guard that had him living in New Orleans for a year, then he spent almost another year in Washington, D.C., in connection with that same special assignment. I spent a month in Seville, Spain and almost two years back in St. Petersburg, earning a master's degree at the University of South Florida St. Petersburg.
Our older daughter married a man who was also born in Jacksonville, and their son was also born there. After all our peregrinations, we've become a Florida family.
My mother, born in Detroit, ended up in Florida as a child in 1920, and was raised here. Her adoptive father was a railroad freight agent in Pensacola. My father came to Florida after graduating from the Naval Academy and service on aircraft carriers, for flight training in 1937. He was born in California.
They married here, and their oldest child, my sister, was born here in 1938. My brother was born here in 1942, when my father came back to Florida, stationed in Miami.
We spent time here as a family in the early 1950s, as my father took various engineering jobs in Jacksonville and in Pensacola. Then we went back to California, as my father's family was there.
Finally, my mother brought my sister, my brother, and me back to Florida after Dad died, to be with her adoptive mom and sister for help with raising us. That was in 1954. Mom's biological sister and brother also lived in Florida. Later, a Packard aunt and uncle also relocated to Florida.
Though I was born in California, I have lived most of my life here, and now I consider myself "Floridated."
Within Florida, my husband and I have taken our family from Jacksonville, where he was born and raised, and where our older daughter was born, to St. Petersburg, where our younger daughter was born while my husband was stationed there in the Coast Guard.
After he was released from active duty, we returned to Jacksonville. We lived there several years, then made a short migration to the county just south-southwest of Jacksonville, where we live now.
During our time in our present home, we have separately spent time outside of Florida. My husband took a special assignment in the Coast Guard that had him living in New Orleans for a year, then he spent almost another year in Washington, D.C., in connection with that same special assignment. I spent a month in Seville, Spain and almost two years back in St. Petersburg, earning a master's degree at the University of South Florida St. Petersburg.
Our older daughter married a man who was also born in Jacksonville, and their son was also born there. After all our peregrinations, we've become a Florida family.
Sunday, April 12, 2020
A to Z Challenge On the Move: E is for England
England is where Samuel Packard lived in 1638, the year he took his wife and infant daughter on a crowded, dangerous voyage to the New World, to the Plymouth Colony.
Samuel hailed from the village of Stonham Aspal, in Suffolk. The house where he was born still stands, though it was recently on the market and I fear for its survival. Such an innate fear comes from living in Florida, where a great deal has been destroyed in the name of development. The church where Samuel was baptized also is still standing.
Samuel's family adhered to the Church of England, but Samuel himself became a Separatist. This led him to migrate to the New World.
I have chronicled the Packard migrations from Samuel down to my own father in other posts in this series. I won't rehash them here.
I do not know how long the Packard family was in Suffolk, but they were there at least from the time of the Domesday Book enumerations. At that time, there were a lot of men named John all around England. I don't think there were that many Johanns, but the Packard listed in the Domesday Book was Johann Packard, living in Stonham Aspal.
This raises the possibility that Packard was originally not an English name, but a German one. England and Germany are closely united in many ways, from the German origins of the English Royal Family to the language. For all its thievery from languages such as Greek, Latin, Spanish, French and many others, English is at its very root a Germanic language.
Another hint to the possibility of the name Packard being German is a tidbit I found on my way to looking up other things. Most Packards in the United States descend from Samuel, the original 1638 emigrant. But not all. Looking in Immigration and Naturalization records, I came across a fellow named Packard whose birthplace had been Germany. He entered the U.S. from Mexico in the early 20th century, along with his Mexican wife and their child, who had also been born in Mexico. Apparently, Herr Packard had been in Mexico for some time.
So it is interesting to delve not only into the migrations of people, but also the migrations of the names we bear.
Samuel hailed from the village of Stonham Aspal, in Suffolk. The house where he was born still stands, though it was recently on the market and I fear for its survival. Such an innate fear comes from living in Florida, where a great deal has been destroyed in the name of development. The church where Samuel was baptized also is still standing.
Samuel's family adhered to the Church of England, but Samuel himself became a Separatist. This led him to migrate to the New World.
I have chronicled the Packard migrations from Samuel down to my own father in other posts in this series. I won't rehash them here.
I do not know how long the Packard family was in Suffolk, but they were there at least from the time of the Domesday Book enumerations. At that time, there were a lot of men named John all around England. I don't think there were that many Johanns, but the Packard listed in the Domesday Book was Johann Packard, living in Stonham Aspal.
This raises the possibility that Packard was originally not an English name, but a German one. England and Germany are closely united in many ways, from the German origins of the English Royal Family to the language. For all its thievery from languages such as Greek, Latin, Spanish, French and many others, English is at its very root a Germanic language.
Another hint to the possibility of the name Packard being German is a tidbit I found on my way to looking up other things. Most Packards in the United States descend from Samuel, the original 1638 emigrant. But not all. Looking in Immigration and Naturalization records, I came across a fellow named Packard whose birthplace had been Germany. He entered the U.S. from Mexico in the early 20th century, along with his Mexican wife and their child, who had also been born in Mexico. Apparently, Herr Packard had been in Mexico for some time.
So it is interesting to delve not only into the migrations of people, but also the migrations of the names we bear.
A to Z Challenge On the Move: D is for Detroit
I have devoted three blog posts in this series to my father's line, so it is time to talk a little about my mother's.
My mom, Martha Shideler Reed, was born in Detroit, Wayne County, Michigan. She and I had something in common: we each did not like our middle names much. Family history has reconciled me to mine. The fact that hers came from the surname of a young social activist in Logansport, Indiana at the turn of the 20th century apparently had no effect on Mom.
Her family was not as peripatetic as my father's. I have not gone back far enough to discover the family's origin. The name Reed could be either English, Scots, or Irish. From some things I know about the Reeds and their attitudes and behavior, I have a sneaking suspicion that they were "lace curtain" Irish. But as yet, I have no evidence. I find the family in the United States in the early 1800s, in a slow westward movement that ended up in Ohio and then in Indiana. In Indiana, towns associated with my Reed line are Monticello, in White County, and Logansport, in Cass County.
There were railroad men in the Reed family. My great-grandfather Francis Harvey ("Frank") Reed was a conductor. My grandfather Benjamin Franklin (also called "Frank") was a switchman in a railroad marshaling yard. My adoptive grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Reed's oldest brother Perry Wilmer Reed, was a freight agent.
Francis Harvey Reed married Florence Elizabeth McKee 10 September 1884 in Monticello, White County, Indiana. Francis H. had been raised in Monticello when his family lived there. His work for the railroad had stationed him in Logansport, and that is where the new bride and groom set up their house. That was the end of their migrations. Their children, however, ended up scattered to the four winds, ending up in such places as Washington state, California, and Florida.
Benjamin Franklin Reed married Ruth Ella Nave, who was from South Bend, Indiana. She worked to support her widowed mother, a situation frowned upon by many whose notion was that "nice" girls did not work, no matter the circumstances. But eating is preferable to starving, so Ruth became a telephone operator. Married in November of 1913, the couple had three children by December of 1916. They got an early start, according to some in the family. In October of 1917, Benjamin Franklin Reed was killed in a railroad accident in Detroit, where he worked in a railroad yard.
According to my aunt, my mother's sister, the Reed family was not fond of Ruth Nave, possibly both because she worked for a living, and because the growth of her and their son's family had been, shall we say, rapid beyond the customary. My aunt said that the Reeds "ganged up" on Ruth Nave, and took her daughters, Margaret, the second child, and Martha, my mother, the youngest. The oldest, a son named Donald, was 16 by the time all the family rearrangement had taken place in the early 1920s, and he stayed with his mother. These three siblings were not reuinted until the 1950s, when all had ended up in Florida, scattered among the Tampa Bay area (Uncle Don), Orlando (Aunt Margaret) and Jacksonville (Mom).
My mother was placed with the oldest Reed brother, Perry, and his wife Mary LeSourd, of Sleeth, Carroll County, Indiana. There is not much left of Sleeth; it's practically a ghost town, so I've been told. The town was named for Mary Reed's mother's family. Perry Reed and his family are found in the 1910 census in Chicago, where their daughter, their second child Elizabeth, was born in 1910. They are missing from the 1920 census. I have looked in Chicago, in various locations in Indiana, and in Pensacola, Florida, where Perry was a railroad freight agent. My theory is this: in April of 1920, there is a very small notice in the Logansport Pharos-Reporter to the effect that Mr. Perry W. Reed, of Pensacola, Florida, was visiting relatives in the area. The visit was to take custody, I'm fairly certain, of four-year-old Martha. I would imagine Perry's wife Mary was with him, to care for the child on the journey home to Pensacola. They were on the move from one location to the other, and that is the way they got missed in the census. The final adoption decree was issued later in 1920 in Pensacola. My mom's journey to Pensacola was but the first in many migrations, as she married a young Navy officer, Arden Packard, in Pensacola, 16 July 1937. Their story is told in the first in this series of posts, On the Move: A is for Arden.
My mom, Martha Shideler Reed, was born in Detroit, Wayne County, Michigan. She and I had something in common: we each did not like our middle names much. Family history has reconciled me to mine. The fact that hers came from the surname of a young social activist in Logansport, Indiana at the turn of the 20th century apparently had no effect on Mom.
Her family was not as peripatetic as my father's. I have not gone back far enough to discover the family's origin. The name Reed could be either English, Scots, or Irish. From some things I know about the Reeds and their attitudes and behavior, I have a sneaking suspicion that they were "lace curtain" Irish. But as yet, I have no evidence. I find the family in the United States in the early 1800s, in a slow westward movement that ended up in Ohio and then in Indiana. In Indiana, towns associated with my Reed line are Monticello, in White County, and Logansport, in Cass County.
There were railroad men in the Reed family. My great-grandfather Francis Harvey ("Frank") Reed was a conductor. My grandfather Benjamin Franklin (also called "Frank") was a switchman in a railroad marshaling yard. My adoptive grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Reed's oldest brother Perry Wilmer Reed, was a freight agent.
Francis Harvey Reed married Florence Elizabeth McKee 10 September 1884 in Monticello, White County, Indiana. Francis H. had been raised in Monticello when his family lived there. His work for the railroad had stationed him in Logansport, and that is where the new bride and groom set up their house. That was the end of their migrations. Their children, however, ended up scattered to the four winds, ending up in such places as Washington state, California, and Florida.
Benjamin Franklin Reed married Ruth Ella Nave, who was from South Bend, Indiana. She worked to support her widowed mother, a situation frowned upon by many whose notion was that "nice" girls did not work, no matter the circumstances. But eating is preferable to starving, so Ruth became a telephone operator. Married in November of 1913, the couple had three children by December of 1916. They got an early start, according to some in the family. In October of 1917, Benjamin Franklin Reed was killed in a railroad accident in Detroit, where he worked in a railroad yard.
According to my aunt, my mother's sister, the Reed family was not fond of Ruth Nave, possibly both because she worked for a living, and because the growth of her and their son's family had been, shall we say, rapid beyond the customary. My aunt said that the Reeds "ganged up" on Ruth Nave, and took her daughters, Margaret, the second child, and Martha, my mother, the youngest. The oldest, a son named Donald, was 16 by the time all the family rearrangement had taken place in the early 1920s, and he stayed with his mother. These three siblings were not reuinted until the 1950s, when all had ended up in Florida, scattered among the Tampa Bay area (Uncle Don), Orlando (Aunt Margaret) and Jacksonville (Mom).
My mother was placed with the oldest Reed brother, Perry, and his wife Mary LeSourd, of Sleeth, Carroll County, Indiana. There is not much left of Sleeth; it's practically a ghost town, so I've been told. The town was named for Mary Reed's mother's family. Perry Reed and his family are found in the 1910 census in Chicago, where their daughter, their second child Elizabeth, was born in 1910. They are missing from the 1920 census. I have looked in Chicago, in various locations in Indiana, and in Pensacola, Florida, where Perry was a railroad freight agent. My theory is this: in April of 1920, there is a very small notice in the Logansport Pharos-Reporter to the effect that Mr. Perry W. Reed, of Pensacola, Florida, was visiting relatives in the area. The visit was to take custody, I'm fairly certain, of four-year-old Martha. I would imagine Perry's wife Mary was with him, to care for the child on the journey home to Pensacola. They were on the move from one location to the other, and that is the way they got missed in the census. The final adoption decree was issued later in 1920 in Pensacola. My mom's journey to Pensacola was but the first in many migrations, as she married a young Navy officer, Arden Packard, in Pensacola, 16 July 1937. Their story is told in the first in this series of posts, On the Move: A is for Arden.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
A to Z Challenge On the Move: C is for Canada and California
The origin of my Packard line in the United States is Massachusetts, the Plymouth Colony, the town of Hingham. Samuel Packard brought his wife Elizabeth and their infant daughter Mary there in 1638. Not long after, they went to Weymouth, and even later to Bridgewater.
The next subsequent two generations pretty well stayed put. Eleazer, Samuel's great-grandson, went west. Though Richards Packard, Eleazer's son, grew up there in western Massachusetts, he was born in Bridgewater.
The American Revolution turned things upside down. Richards, at 17, enlisted in a Massachusetts regiment and ended up serving two enlistments in two different regiments. After the Revolution, he began a fairly long migration north. He settled first in Winchester, New Hampshire, where he met and married Sarah "Sally" Coates. I do not have much information on her as yet. In Winchester, Richards worked in a foundry.
His feet feeling the need to wander once again, he and Sally took up their anchor and headed north. They ended up in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, where their son John Allen Packard, my 3x-great grandfather, was born. It wasn't long after when Richards and Sally sold their farm in Vermont and headed north again, this time ending up in Canada. They settled in Stanstead, in Quebec, in an area known as the English Townships. This was their final migration.
This was also where John Allen Packard grew up, and married. He married Miriam Bullock, and together they had a pack of children. John Allen was a Methodist preacher. One of their children, Mathew Hale Packard, also grew up in the English Townships, and married Emily Hoyt.
Mathew Hale and about half of his siblings ended up going back into the United States around 1850. Mathew and his wife, and their son Oscar Merry, born probably in Hamilton, Ontario in 1848, ended up in Chautauqua County, New York, across Lake Erie where they were enumerated in the 1855 New York State Census in Harmony Township. They also had a daughter, Augusta, born in New York, probably in Harmony Township, Chautauqua County. Members of Emily Hoyt's family had settled there, and the Packards had followed.
It was from here the Mathew enlisted in a New York regiment of cavalry for the Civil War. He served in two different regiments. As with most who fought on either side in that war, Mathew suffered more from ailments than from war wounds.
After the war, Mathew and his family migrated to Bloomington, Illinois, where a number of his siblings had settled. This is where Mathew, by occupation a carpenter, and Emily, a milliner, lived the rest of their lives.
Their son, Oscar Merry, became a real estate agent. He married Augusta Hetherington, born in Chicago in 1851. They had four children: Herbert Roy Packard, Ruby Packard, Walter Hetherington Packard, and Hale Boring Packard. Once he became established in real estate, Oscar packed up his family and migrated to the best place for real estate agents in the late 19th and early 20th centuries -- California.
It was in California that Walter Hetherington Packard grew up, and where he met and married Elizabeth Jane "Bessie" (later "Betty") Reynolds, who was born in Atlantic, Cass County, Iowa. They, like Walter's parents, had four children: Walter Reynolds ("Ren"), John Creighton ("Jack"), Arden (no middle name), and Sarah Virginia ("Sally").
This long enough tale ends here, for the story of Arden and his migrations can be found in my blog entry On the Move: A is for Arden.
The next subsequent two generations pretty well stayed put. Eleazer, Samuel's great-grandson, went west. Though Richards Packard, Eleazer's son, grew up there in western Massachusetts, he was born in Bridgewater.
The American Revolution turned things upside down. Richards, at 17, enlisted in a Massachusetts regiment and ended up serving two enlistments in two different regiments. After the Revolution, he began a fairly long migration north. He settled first in Winchester, New Hampshire, where he met and married Sarah "Sally" Coates. I do not have much information on her as yet. In Winchester, Richards worked in a foundry.
His feet feeling the need to wander once again, he and Sally took up their anchor and headed north. They ended up in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, where their son John Allen Packard, my 3x-great grandfather, was born. It wasn't long after when Richards and Sally sold their farm in Vermont and headed north again, this time ending up in Canada. They settled in Stanstead, in Quebec, in an area known as the English Townships. This was their final migration.
This was also where John Allen Packard grew up, and married. He married Miriam Bullock, and together they had a pack of children. John Allen was a Methodist preacher. One of their children, Mathew Hale Packard, also grew up in the English Townships, and married Emily Hoyt.
Mathew Hale and about half of his siblings ended up going back into the United States around 1850. Mathew and his wife, and their son Oscar Merry, born probably in Hamilton, Ontario in 1848, ended up in Chautauqua County, New York, across Lake Erie where they were enumerated in the 1855 New York State Census in Harmony Township. They also had a daughter, Augusta, born in New York, probably in Harmony Township, Chautauqua County. Members of Emily Hoyt's family had settled there, and the Packards had followed.
It was from here the Mathew enlisted in a New York regiment of cavalry for the Civil War. He served in two different regiments. As with most who fought on either side in that war, Mathew suffered more from ailments than from war wounds.
After the war, Mathew and his family migrated to Bloomington, Illinois, where a number of his siblings had settled. This is where Mathew, by occupation a carpenter, and Emily, a milliner, lived the rest of their lives.
Their son, Oscar Merry, became a real estate agent. He married Augusta Hetherington, born in Chicago in 1851. They had four children: Herbert Roy Packard, Ruby Packard, Walter Hetherington Packard, and Hale Boring Packard. Once he became established in real estate, Oscar packed up his family and migrated to the best place for real estate agents in the late 19th and early 20th centuries -- California.
It was in California that Walter Hetherington Packard grew up, and where he met and married Elizabeth Jane "Bessie" (later "Betty") Reynolds, who was born in Atlantic, Cass County, Iowa. They, like Walter's parents, had four children: Walter Reynolds ("Ren"), John Creighton ("Jack"), Arden (no middle name), and Sarah Virginia ("Sally").
This long enough tale ends here, for the story of Arden and his migrations can be found in my blog entry On the Move: A is for Arden.
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
The 2020 census - hard to be impressed
First of all, I am well aware that the purpose of the decennial census of the United States, as stated in the Constitution, is to obtain a population count for the apportionment of the House of Representatives.
That said, it is also true that from about 1850 to 1940, so far, the United States Census has been a boon to family history researchers. Ten years ago, I critiqued the 2010 census, finding it also not much to write home about from a genealogical perspective. 2020 isn't much better.
The first three questions asked: how many people lived in the residence as of 1 April 2020, how many others may have stayed there on that date, and is the home owned or rented. The form asked for a telephone number.
The form then runs through each of the people resident in the home as to name, sex, age and date of birth. Then the form asks if the people listed are Hispanic, Latino, or Spanish in origin. The Census Bureau maintains that these are not races, but ethnic origin. But why single this group out when there was also a general question that asked everyone's ethnic origin?
The form asks each person's race. It asks for whether others named on the form are permanent or temporary residents of the home. It asks for the relationship of each to the head of household.
There is also a question about the ethnic origin of each person.
Again, we have a census that doesn't ask a lot that is really useful to research into family history. At least there is the question about relation of each person to the head of household.
The questions that gave people dyspepsia -- including me -- were the questions about race and ethnic origin. The statement from the Census Bureau was that this information was needed to facilitate services for eligible groups. Sad to say, in our current political climate, this type of information in the wrong hands, that is to say, the hands of a racist regime, can have dire implications.
I wanted to poke the system in the eye with a sharp stick and, to the race question, answer "human." This would have been possible because for each of these sorts of question, there was a space that could be filled-in freely. I had a couple snarky answers for the ethnic origin question. 1. I could have answered Neanderthal and Denisovan, because through the National Geographic Society's Genographic Project (now closed), I found out I am 2.1% Neanderthal and 1.1% Denisovan. A waggish friend said that means I'm 3.2% extinct. 2. I could also have answered that my ethnic origin was Olduvai Gorge. But I didn't, because my husband wouldn't agree to it. Probably a good thing, though, because giving such an answer may have resulted in a fine -- but I could have argued that such answers were not false.
Race is a touchy subject again, mainly due to the actions and words of some public officials, as well as the resurgence in hate groups and, to this nation's shame, hate crimes. Asking that in the census was not a wise choice.
That said, it is also true that from about 1850 to 1940, so far, the United States Census has been a boon to family history researchers. Ten years ago, I critiqued the 2010 census, finding it also not much to write home about from a genealogical perspective. 2020 isn't much better.
The first three questions asked: how many people lived in the residence as of 1 April 2020, how many others may have stayed there on that date, and is the home owned or rented. The form asked for a telephone number.
The form then runs through each of the people resident in the home as to name, sex, age and date of birth. Then the form asks if the people listed are Hispanic, Latino, or Spanish in origin. The Census Bureau maintains that these are not races, but ethnic origin. But why single this group out when there was also a general question that asked everyone's ethnic origin?
The form asks each person's race. It asks for whether others named on the form are permanent or temporary residents of the home. It asks for the relationship of each to the head of household.
There is also a question about the ethnic origin of each person.
Again, we have a census that doesn't ask a lot that is really useful to research into family history. At least there is the question about relation of each person to the head of household.
The questions that gave people dyspepsia -- including me -- were the questions about race and ethnic origin. The statement from the Census Bureau was that this information was needed to facilitate services for eligible groups. Sad to say, in our current political climate, this type of information in the wrong hands, that is to say, the hands of a racist regime, can have dire implications.
I wanted to poke the system in the eye with a sharp stick and, to the race question, answer "human." This would have been possible because for each of these sorts of question, there was a space that could be filled-in freely. I had a couple snarky answers for the ethnic origin question. 1. I could have answered Neanderthal and Denisovan, because through the National Geographic Society's Genographic Project (now closed), I found out I am 2.1% Neanderthal and 1.1% Denisovan. A waggish friend said that means I'm 3.2% extinct. 2. I could also have answered that my ethnic origin was Olduvai Gorge. But I didn't, because my husband wouldn't agree to it. Probably a good thing, though, because giving such an answer may have resulted in a fine -- but I could have argued that such answers were not false.
Race is a touchy subject again, mainly due to the actions and words of some public officials, as well as the resurgence in hate groups and, to this nation's shame, hate crimes. Asking that in the census was not a wise choice.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
A to Z Challenge On the Move: B is for Bicoastal
My father's family line in America began with Samuel Packard, born around 1610 in Stonham Asphal, Suffolk, England. He became a separatist and left England for the Plymouth Colony in 1638. With him were his wife Elizabeth and their infant daughter Mary. Elizabeth's maiden surname has never been discovered.
Samuel and his family settled first in Hingham, Massachusetts, then removed to Weymouth and finally ended up in Bridgewater. As towns were organized in those colonial days, it all revolved around the church. There was a squabble in Samuel's church, and one part of the congregation broke away and renamed their part of the town North Bridgewater, which today is known as Brockton. Samuel was a farmer, and he also kept a tavern, known as an ordinary, in his home. This was a common colonial practice, and not just in the English colonies, but also in the Spanish colonies in Florida, as my studies of one of those colonies, St. Augustine, Florida, have revealed.
Samuel was also at one time or another the Keeper of Minister's Rates (tax collector) and Surveyor of Highways. He was obviously literate and worked well with numbers.
Descendants of Samuel, through several generations, scattered to the four winds. My fourth great-grandfather, Samuel's great-grandson Richards, served in the American Revolution and afterwards, went north in search of land. He went up into New Hampshire, where he met and married Sarah ("Sally") Coates. They continued their migration up into Vermont, where my third great-grandfather, John Allen Packard, was born. And apparently Richards was not satisfied with the land he tried to farm in Vermont, and he heard that the Canadians were giving away land and were not being particular about who they were giving it to. He eventually settled near Georgeville, Quebec, in an area known as the English Townships, because so many Anglophones settled there. My great-great grandfather Mathew Hale Packard was born there.*
Mathew Hale Packard married Emily Hoyt in Canada. Their son Oscar Merry Packard, my great-grandfather, was most likely, by everthing I have found so far, born in Hamilton, Ontario. His happy-sounding middle name came from the Merry family, close friends of the Packards in Georgeville. Mathew and Emily also later had a daughter, Sarah Augusta. This family migrated from Canada to Chautauqua County, New York, after the Civil War, in which Mathew served from two different regiments of New York cavalry.
Another migration was in store for this family, as they ended up in Bloomington, McLean County, Illinois, with a few of Mathew's brothers and sisters, and their families. It was in Bloomington that Mathew Hale Packard died.
His son, Oscar Merry, continued the peripatetic Packard tradition, and after becoming a real estate agent, took that career to the perfect place for it at the perfect time -- southern California in the early 20th century. Before leaving Illinois, however, he married Agusta Hetherington. They had several children, among them my grandfather Walter Hetherington Packard.
It was in California that my grandfather met and married my grandmother, Elizabeth Jane Reynolds. Their children were Walter Reynolds Packard, Arden Packard, Sarah Packard, and John Creighton Packard.
In my previous post, A is for Arden, the story is told of my father's migrations, which went from California to Maryland to Virginia to Florida, and back to California. We have been a very bicoastal family.
*Be it noted that, yes, my fourth great-grandfather's name was Richards, with the s. His mother's maiden name was Mercy Richards, and that is probably where his name came from. And my great-great grandfather Mathew Hale Packard had only one t in his first name.
Samuel and his family settled first in Hingham, Massachusetts, then removed to Weymouth and finally ended up in Bridgewater. As towns were organized in those colonial days, it all revolved around the church. There was a squabble in Samuel's church, and one part of the congregation broke away and renamed their part of the town North Bridgewater, which today is known as Brockton. Samuel was a farmer, and he also kept a tavern, known as an ordinary, in his home. This was a common colonial practice, and not just in the English colonies, but also in the Spanish colonies in Florida, as my studies of one of those colonies, St. Augustine, Florida, have revealed.
Samuel was also at one time or another the Keeper of Minister's Rates (tax collector) and Surveyor of Highways. He was obviously literate and worked well with numbers.
Descendants of Samuel, through several generations, scattered to the four winds. My fourth great-grandfather, Samuel's great-grandson Richards, served in the American Revolution and afterwards, went north in search of land. He went up into New Hampshire, where he met and married Sarah ("Sally") Coates. They continued their migration up into Vermont, where my third great-grandfather, John Allen Packard, was born. And apparently Richards was not satisfied with the land he tried to farm in Vermont, and he heard that the Canadians were giving away land and were not being particular about who they were giving it to. He eventually settled near Georgeville, Quebec, in an area known as the English Townships, because so many Anglophones settled there. My great-great grandfather Mathew Hale Packard was born there.*
Mathew Hale Packard married Emily Hoyt in Canada. Their son Oscar Merry Packard, my great-grandfather, was most likely, by everthing I have found so far, born in Hamilton, Ontario. His happy-sounding middle name came from the Merry family, close friends of the Packards in Georgeville. Mathew and Emily also later had a daughter, Sarah Augusta. This family migrated from Canada to Chautauqua County, New York, after the Civil War, in which Mathew served from two different regiments of New York cavalry.
Another migration was in store for this family, as they ended up in Bloomington, McLean County, Illinois, with a few of Mathew's brothers and sisters, and their families. It was in Bloomington that Mathew Hale Packard died.
His son, Oscar Merry, continued the peripatetic Packard tradition, and after becoming a real estate agent, took that career to the perfect place for it at the perfect time -- southern California in the early 20th century. Before leaving Illinois, however, he married Agusta Hetherington. They had several children, among them my grandfather Walter Hetherington Packard.
It was in California that my grandfather met and married my grandmother, Elizabeth Jane Reynolds. Their children were Walter Reynolds Packard, Arden Packard, Sarah Packard, and John Creighton Packard.
In my previous post, A is for Arden, the story is told of my father's migrations, which went from California to Maryland to Virginia to Florida, and back to California. We have been a very bicoastal family.
*Be it noted that, yes, my fourth great-grandfather's name was Richards, with the s. His mother's maiden name was Mercy Richards, and that is probably where his name came from. And my great-great grandfather Mathew Hale Packard had only one t in his first name.
A to Z Challenge On the Move: A is for Arden
Arden was my father's name. He did not have a middle name. His parents were Walter Hetherington Packard and Elizabeth Jane Reynolds. He was born in Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California, 29 April 1911.
His name was a bit of a bone of contention and lapse of attention. His father wanted to name him Walter Hetherington Packard, Jr., according to my aunt. Elizabeth Jane nixed that, saying that two Walter Hetherington Packards would be too many. Undecided about what permanent name to hang on him, my grandfather put Arden on the birth certificate, with no middle name. And apparently grandpa and grandma Packard could not agree on a name, and left it at Arden.
I have no idea how my father felt about being named for a dairy. Walter Packard was the supervisor at the Arden Dairy in Los Angeles.
My father's interest in flying began fairly early. In high school, he was a member of the Aero Club, an organization for boys who were fascinated by the relatively new phenomenon of flying. My father kept that fascination. He enlisted in the Navy out of high school, and was sent for training at the San Diego Naval Base. That was in 1930, and in that year's census, he was counted both at the family home in Pasadena, where he wasn't, and at the San Diego Naval Base, where he was.
While an enlisted man, he took the competetive examination for admission into the Naval Academy. He won entrance, and graduated from the Naval Academy in 1934. After getting initial experience as an officer under his belt, he applied and was accepted for flight training at Pensacola Naval Base in Florida. There was a family there named Reed, and their younger daughter, Martha, met Arden there, and they were married in 1937.
They never owned a home while my father was alive. Not even after he got out of the Navy after World War II. They always rented, which gave me dyspepsia tryng to find them in property records. From Pensacola, Arden and Martha set out for his first duty station as a Naval aviator -- Norfolk, Virginia. They started their family fairly early, and while he was out on an aircraft carrier in August of 1938, mom was back in Pensacola to obtain her mother's help for the birth of their first child, Mary Elizabeth.
The Navy sent my dad back to California for a while. I remember reading in his service record that he had kept that he was a technical adviser on some training films made in Hollywood. That record got lost when an individual who shall always be accorded my opprobrium selfishly destroyed it and several other precious keepsakes when she wanted our storage space at the house she and my mom and I both shared with another woman. All she had to do was ask; there was plenty of room for the items in my closet. All three adults were employees of a local hospital, and I was in high school.
After Norfolk, the Packard Family migrated to Florida, to Miami, where he was assigned to the Naval air base there. That's where my brother, Arden Packard II, was born in 1942. I guess my mother thought two Arden Packards in the world was not such a bad thing.
After Miami, dad was sent to Jacksonville Naval Air Station, also in Florida. My mom once pointed out to me the house where they lived in the Riverside - Avondale area of Jacksonville. They also lived a while at Jacksonville Beach. My dad was not one to stay in place long.
After World War II, they stayed in Jacksonville a brief while, then it was back to California, where I was born in 1947. We stayed there a few years, which I do not remember, and when I was about three or four, we went back to Jacksonville. From there, we went to Pensacola, where dad had an offer of a job based on his degree in Engineering from Annapolis. And from there, we went back to California, and were living in Tarzana when he died in 1954.
There was one final migration, when my widowed mother took my sister and my brother and me back to Florida. We were accompanied by our teenage cousin Rosanna, who wanted to visit the Reed relatives in Jacksonville. That was where my mother lived in the first house that she lived in that wasn't rented. She bought a house around the corner from her mother and sister.
His name was a bit of a bone of contention and lapse of attention. His father wanted to name him Walter Hetherington Packard, Jr., according to my aunt. Elizabeth Jane nixed that, saying that two Walter Hetherington Packards would be too many. Undecided about what permanent name to hang on him, my grandfather put Arden on the birth certificate, with no middle name. And apparently grandpa and grandma Packard could not agree on a name, and left it at Arden.
I have no idea how my father felt about being named for a dairy. Walter Packard was the supervisor at the Arden Dairy in Los Angeles.
My father's interest in flying began fairly early. In high school, he was a member of the Aero Club, an organization for boys who were fascinated by the relatively new phenomenon of flying. My father kept that fascination. He enlisted in the Navy out of high school, and was sent for training at the San Diego Naval Base. That was in 1930, and in that year's census, he was counted both at the family home in Pasadena, where he wasn't, and at the San Diego Naval Base, where he was.
While an enlisted man, he took the competetive examination for admission into the Naval Academy. He won entrance, and graduated from the Naval Academy in 1934. After getting initial experience as an officer under his belt, he applied and was accepted for flight training at Pensacola Naval Base in Florida. There was a family there named Reed, and their younger daughter, Martha, met Arden there, and they were married in 1937.
They never owned a home while my father was alive. Not even after he got out of the Navy after World War II. They always rented, which gave me dyspepsia tryng to find them in property records. From Pensacola, Arden and Martha set out for his first duty station as a Naval aviator -- Norfolk, Virginia. They started their family fairly early, and while he was out on an aircraft carrier in August of 1938, mom was back in Pensacola to obtain her mother's help for the birth of their first child, Mary Elizabeth.
The Navy sent my dad back to California for a while. I remember reading in his service record that he had kept that he was a technical adviser on some training films made in Hollywood. That record got lost when an individual who shall always be accorded my opprobrium selfishly destroyed it and several other precious keepsakes when she wanted our storage space at the house she and my mom and I both shared with another woman. All she had to do was ask; there was plenty of room for the items in my closet. All three adults were employees of a local hospital, and I was in high school.
After Norfolk, the Packard Family migrated to Florida, to Miami, where he was assigned to the Naval air base there. That's where my brother, Arden Packard II, was born in 1942. I guess my mother thought two Arden Packards in the world was not such a bad thing.
After Miami, dad was sent to Jacksonville Naval Air Station, also in Florida. My mom once pointed out to me the house where they lived in the Riverside - Avondale area of Jacksonville. They also lived a while at Jacksonville Beach. My dad was not one to stay in place long.
After World War II, they stayed in Jacksonville a brief while, then it was back to California, where I was born in 1947. We stayed there a few years, which I do not remember, and when I was about three or four, we went back to Jacksonville. From there, we went to Pensacola, where dad had an offer of a job based on his degree in Engineering from Annapolis. And from there, we went back to California, and were living in Tarzana when he died in 1954.
There was one final migration, when my widowed mother took my sister and my brother and me back to Florida. We were accompanied by our teenage cousin Rosanna, who wanted to visit the Reed relatives in Jacksonville. That was where my mother lived in the first house that she lived in that wasn't rented. She bought a house around the corner from her mother and sister.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Vocabulary in the Time of COVID-19
In working in your genealogy, have you ever wondered what an adze was, or what it meant when your ancestor was consumptive, or what in the world a futtock was for? (Okay, stop giggling.)
Well, in the past month or so, we have been introduced to a number of new words and phrases pertaining to COVID-19. Here are some of them:
Shelter-in-Place: Basically, stay home! Recommendations from the Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization are for people to stay home and not make contact with other people in large groups, to avoid exposure and thereby prevent the spread of the disease. Going out infrequently for essential items (groceries, medications, and such as these) can be done, but carefully.
Self-Quarantine: As it involves the word "quarantine," it connotes a more severe severing of contact with people in groups. It also is applied to people who have tested positive for the disease (these tests being few and far between, and unfortunately less available in some states than in others), or who exhibit symptoms. Rather than a means of avoiding exposure for those who are not yet infected, as shelter-in-place is, self-quarantine is a means of preventing those who have active cases from infecting others. It is voluntary, rather than mandatory.
Flatten the Curve: The possible rate and intensity of the spread of COVID-19 is expressed as a Bell curve. The idea behind shelter-in-place (or self-quarantine) is to reduce the potential rate of the spread of the disease so that the Bell curve will not be as high as it would if people did congregate in large groups, infecting each other.
Senior Hour: An hour, usually the first of the business day, for essential commercial establishments (mainly grocery stores) to be open to older people, who are most vulnerable to the spread and effects of COVID-19.
Social Distancing: Avoiding close contact with others by maintaining at MINIMUM a distance of six feet between you and other people. Avoiding large crowds. One meme on Facebook says that "Social distancing" is a boring term. It's much more exciting to say "exiled for the good of the realm." (Which actually would apply more to shelter-in-place or self-quarantine than to social distancing.)
Covidiot: A person who does not follow the CDC guidelines for handwashing, sheltering-in-place, and more. A person who congregates in large groups with other people. A governor of a state, who does not implement the proper and rational precautionary measures to reduce the potential spread of COVID-19 in his or her state. Basically, any person who acts counter to his or her rational self-interest in this time of pandemic.
So, these days, people are encouraged to Shelter-in-Place and go out only for Senior Hour or to obtain essential supplies (for younger folks), practice Social Distancing, and generally not to be a Covidiot!
Well, in the past month or so, we have been introduced to a number of new words and phrases pertaining to COVID-19. Here are some of them:
Shelter-in-Place: Basically, stay home! Recommendations from the Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization are for people to stay home and not make contact with other people in large groups, to avoid exposure and thereby prevent the spread of the disease. Going out infrequently for essential items (groceries, medications, and such as these) can be done, but carefully.
Self-Quarantine: As it involves the word "quarantine," it connotes a more severe severing of contact with people in groups. It also is applied to people who have tested positive for the disease (these tests being few and far between, and unfortunately less available in some states than in others), or who exhibit symptoms. Rather than a means of avoiding exposure for those who are not yet infected, as shelter-in-place is, self-quarantine is a means of preventing those who have active cases from infecting others. It is voluntary, rather than mandatory.
Flatten the Curve: The possible rate and intensity of the spread of COVID-19 is expressed as a Bell curve. The idea behind shelter-in-place (or self-quarantine) is to reduce the potential rate of the spread of the disease so that the Bell curve will not be as high as it would if people did congregate in large groups, infecting each other.
Senior Hour: An hour, usually the first of the business day, for essential commercial establishments (mainly grocery stores) to be open to older people, who are most vulnerable to the spread and effects of COVID-19.
Social Distancing: Avoiding close contact with others by maintaining at MINIMUM a distance of six feet between you and other people. Avoiding large crowds. One meme on Facebook says that "Social distancing" is a boring term. It's much more exciting to say "exiled for the good of the realm." (Which actually would apply more to shelter-in-place or self-quarantine than to social distancing.)
Covidiot: A person who does not follow the CDC guidelines for handwashing, sheltering-in-place, and more. A person who congregates in large groups with other people. A governor of a state, who does not implement the proper and rational precautionary measures to reduce the potential spread of COVID-19 in his or her state. Basically, any person who acts counter to his or her rational self-interest in this time of pandemic.
So, these days, people are encouraged to Shelter-in-Place and go out only for Senior Hour or to obtain essential supplies (for younger folks), practice Social Distancing, and generally not to be a Covidiot!
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Work in the Time of COVID-19
With the ever-rising infection rate of the COVID-19 virus, more and more people are being required to work at home.
No hard-and-fast rule has come from the federal government as of 26 March 2020. The CDC is only issuing "recommended" guidelines for personal separation to prevent contagion. On social media, people talk about staying six feet away from others.
Some states have gone much further than the federal government. Kentucky, for example, proclaimed a state of emergency on 6 March 2020. The governor then proceeded to take steps to close schools, restrict restaurants to call-in and pick-up rather than dining-in, recommend that vulnerable segments of the population stay home, and other measures to prevent the spread. The result is that the infection rate has been slowed in Kentucky.
In contrast, Tennessee's governor did nothing. Their infection rate continues to climb.
In Florida, the governor has done little. He did not close the beaches and did not prevent Spring Break gatherings of students in large groups, with the result that students returned to their homes and schools infected by COVID-19. Cities in Florida have taken their own measures. Jacksonville's mayor proclaimed a state of emergency on 13 March 2020, closed the city's beaches, and issued a requirement for all commercial concerns doing business in the city that can make provisions for employees to work at home to do so. Our younger daughter works for an essential business -- food distribution. She was told yesterday to prepare to work at home. Before that, while she was still commuting from her home in another county to Jacksonville, she had been issued a letter by her employing company stating that she works for an essential business and that she be allowed to travel county-to-county in case counties started closing their borders.
All over the country, people are gearing up to work at home. Some couples living in small apartments have had to come up with novel methods and physical arrangements. Children, sent home from school, need supervision, instruction, and entertainment. Some people have become inventive in that area; on Facebook there is a video of a four-year-old progressing through an indoor obstacle course constructed by his father!
When the personal computer first came on the scene, there was a lot of talk of "the paperless society" and how computers would radically change the way people work. For many years, not much seemed to be happening to bring these conditions about. There was still an awful lot of paper circulating. This disease and its severity may just change that.
No hard-and-fast rule has come from the federal government as of 26 March 2020. The CDC is only issuing "recommended" guidelines for personal separation to prevent contagion. On social media, people talk about staying six feet away from others.
Some states have gone much further than the federal government. Kentucky, for example, proclaimed a state of emergency on 6 March 2020. The governor then proceeded to take steps to close schools, restrict restaurants to call-in and pick-up rather than dining-in, recommend that vulnerable segments of the population stay home, and other measures to prevent the spread. The result is that the infection rate has been slowed in Kentucky.
In contrast, Tennessee's governor did nothing. Their infection rate continues to climb.
In Florida, the governor has done little. He did not close the beaches and did not prevent Spring Break gatherings of students in large groups, with the result that students returned to their homes and schools infected by COVID-19. Cities in Florida have taken their own measures. Jacksonville's mayor proclaimed a state of emergency on 13 March 2020, closed the city's beaches, and issued a requirement for all commercial concerns doing business in the city that can make provisions for employees to work at home to do so. Our younger daughter works for an essential business -- food distribution. She was told yesterday to prepare to work at home. Before that, while she was still commuting from her home in another county to Jacksonville, she had been issued a letter by her employing company stating that she works for an essential business and that she be allowed to travel county-to-county in case counties started closing their borders.
All over the country, people are gearing up to work at home. Some couples living in small apartments have had to come up with novel methods and physical arrangements. Children, sent home from school, need supervision, instruction, and entertainment. Some people have become inventive in that area; on Facebook there is a video of a four-year-old progressing through an indoor obstacle course constructed by his father!
When the personal computer first came on the scene, there was a lot of talk of "the paperless society" and how computers would radically change the way people work. For many years, not much seemed to be happening to bring these conditions about. There was still an awful lot of paper circulating. This disease and its severity may just change that.
Sunday, March 22, 2020
Social Life in the Time of COVID-19
The short version: There ain't no social life in the time of COVID-19.
No large meetings.
No going out to eat at a restaurant.
No going to sports events.
No taking classes.
No parties.
No church services.
The phrase these days is "social distancing." A nice term for, in some cases, social isolation. But there is the telephone. There is e-mail. There are social media such as Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and many others. People can "congregate" electronically, in what we refer to as "the virtual world."
Colleges and universities are offering their students their classes online.
Restaurants are trying to keep their heads above water by offering call-in and pick-up, rather than dining in.
Our nearest pet supply store is also offering call-in and pick-up.
Grocery stores have been ahead of the curve -- many have been offering such service for years before this pandemic began.
People are being encouraged, wherever possible, to work from home. Our son-in-law had been doing that part of the time for a few years now, maybe one or two days at home, and the other three at the office, or something like that. Now he's working from home, period, but had begun doing so before COVID-19..
Social media are full of funny photos and jokes about people working from home. It has caused many to become creative, as their children are also home as public schools have closed. But the upside, as stated in a number of jokes, stories, and photos, is that working from home allows the worker to do so in pajamas. Or less. One friend told of attending an online meeting dressed in shirt and tie, and pajama bottoms! Only what can be seen needs to be dressed up.
For my husband and myself, our lives are not very different. We have been homebodies all along, happy to stay at home, with visits with friends and family, occasional evenings going out to eat, or sometimes to a movie. We're not doing any of that now. People who traveled for business or pleasure are staying home. My major professor in graduate school goes to Seville, Spain every year to do research at the General Archive of the Indies. He's facing the prospect of not being able to go this year, as Spain has pretty much shut down.
So has Italy. So have a number of states here in the U.S.
I wonder how many of the changes being wrought by the need to avoid infection by this highly virulent virus will become permanent.
No large meetings.
No going out to eat at a restaurant.
No going to sports events.
No taking classes.
No parties.
No church services.
The phrase these days is "social distancing." A nice term for, in some cases, social isolation. But there is the telephone. There is e-mail. There are social media such as Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and many others. People can "congregate" electronically, in what we refer to as "the virtual world."
Colleges and universities are offering their students their classes online.
Restaurants are trying to keep their heads above water by offering call-in and pick-up, rather than dining in.
Our nearest pet supply store is also offering call-in and pick-up.
Grocery stores have been ahead of the curve -- many have been offering such service for years before this pandemic began.
People are being encouraged, wherever possible, to work from home. Our son-in-law had been doing that part of the time for a few years now, maybe one or two days at home, and the other three at the office, or something like that. Now he's working from home, period, but had begun doing so before COVID-19..
Social media are full of funny photos and jokes about people working from home. It has caused many to become creative, as their children are also home as public schools have closed. But the upside, as stated in a number of jokes, stories, and photos, is that working from home allows the worker to do so in pajamas. Or less. One friend told of attending an online meeting dressed in shirt and tie, and pajama bottoms! Only what can be seen needs to be dressed up.
For my husband and myself, our lives are not very different. We have been homebodies all along, happy to stay at home, with visits with friends and family, occasional evenings going out to eat, or sometimes to a movie. We're not doing any of that now. People who traveled for business or pleasure are staying home. My major professor in graduate school goes to Seville, Spain every year to do research at the General Archive of the Indies. He's facing the prospect of not being able to go this year, as Spain has pretty much shut down.
So has Italy. So have a number of states here in the U.S.
I wonder how many of the changes being wrought by the need to avoid infection by this highly virulent virus will become permanent.
Friday, March 20, 2020
A to Z Challenge -- Theme Reveal
Now that I have retired and have time on my hands, I'm getting back into doing my own genealogy.
So I'm trying to be a good do-bee and revive this blog. I am going to attempt the A to Z Challenge next month.
We are supposed to have a theme. Since my family has been nomadic for a long time, more on my father's side than my mother's, my theme is going to be On The Move. Let's see if I can come up with a post to match each letter of the alphabet with that theme!
It's funny -- we talk about "moving" from one place to another. "Migration" is what our ancestors did. But really, when we move from one part of the country to another, we are migrating.
So let's see what I can say about my migrations and those of my ancestors!
So I'm trying to be a good do-bee and revive this blog. I am going to attempt the A to Z Challenge next month.
We are supposed to have a theme. Since my family has been nomadic for a long time, more on my father's side than my mother's, my theme is going to be On The Move. Let's see if I can come up with a post to match each letter of the alphabet with that theme!
It's funny -- we talk about "moving" from one place to another. "Migration" is what our ancestors did. But really, when we move from one part of the country to another, we are migrating.
So let's see what I can say about my migrations and those of my ancestors!
Wash those hands! -- in the time of COVID-19
Good parents always instruct their children to wash their hands after using the bathroom or before handling food or eating.
Now we're all being told to wash our hands -- the surgeon's way --several times a day after or before all sorts of activities. Twenty seconds, washing all over the hand, between fingers, and back and front. One of the popular things these days is sharing bits of prose or poetry, or song verses or choruses, that come out to about twenty seconds, to time your handwashing.
One suggestion has been the opening voice-over to the 1960s television series "Star Trek," which has lived on and on well into the 21st Century:
Space -- the final frontier!
These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise,
Its five-year mission to explore strange new worlds,
To seek out new life and new civilizations --
To boldy go where no man has gone before!
Others use a verse to the song "The Wall," by the group Pink Floyd:
We don't need no education
We dont need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
Not that I was ever a fan of rock'n'roll. I'm not. So what I usually sing as a handwashing mantra is a parody of the Pink Floyd song that my daughter and I made up one hurricane season (we live in Florida):
We don't need no big fat windstorm,
We don't need no hurricane.
Storm clouds on the far horizon
Bringing on the wind and rain.
Hey, Cyclone! Leave Florida alone!
All in all, you're just another wind in the fall.
All in all, you're just another wind in the fall.
For the liturgically-minded Catholic, Episcopalian, Methodist, and some others, singing The Doxology works:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise God all creatures here below.
Praise him above, ye heavenly host.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.
There is also the "Seven-part Amen." (Yes, it's just "Amen," chanted seven times to a particular tune.)
Other mantras used by people I've encountered have been taken from Frank Herbert's Dune novels, bits of doggerel by Monty Python (20th-21st century comedy troupe), and many other sources. (I welcome suggestions from readers.)
Now we're all being told to wash our hands -- the surgeon's way --several times a day after or before all sorts of activities. Twenty seconds, washing all over the hand, between fingers, and back and front. One of the popular things these days is sharing bits of prose or poetry, or song verses or choruses, that come out to about twenty seconds, to time your handwashing.
One suggestion has been the opening voice-over to the 1960s television series "Star Trek," which has lived on and on well into the 21st Century:
Space -- the final frontier!
These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise,
Its five-year mission to explore strange new worlds,
To seek out new life and new civilizations --
To boldy go where no man has gone before!
Others use a verse to the song "The Wall," by the group Pink Floyd:
We don't need no education
We dont need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
Not that I was ever a fan of rock'n'roll. I'm not. So what I usually sing as a handwashing mantra is a parody of the Pink Floyd song that my daughter and I made up one hurricane season (we live in Florida):
We don't need no big fat windstorm,
We don't need no hurricane.
Storm clouds on the far horizon
Bringing on the wind and rain.
Hey, Cyclone! Leave Florida alone!
All in all, you're just another wind in the fall.
All in all, you're just another wind in the fall.
For the liturgically-minded Catholic, Episcopalian, Methodist, and some others, singing The Doxology works:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise God all creatures here below.
Praise him above, ye heavenly host.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.
There is also the "Seven-part Amen." (Yes, it's just "Amen," chanted seven times to a particular tune.)
Other mantras used by people I've encountered have been taken from Frank Herbert's Dune novels, bits of doggerel by Monty Python (20th-21st century comedy troupe), and many other sources. (I welcome suggestions from readers.)
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
Humor in the Time of COVID-19
As in any time of great stress, from surgery to war, many of us -- those of us graced with a sense of humor -- may indulge in a very dark sort of humor, usually called gallows humor or black humor.
The COVID-19 pandemic is no exception.
Various reactions to the virus have produced a great deal of humor. The silly run on toilet paper is one part that has generated a lot of the funny posts we see on Facebook, for instance:
[Right-click on each link to open in a new window. That way, you don't get taken away entirely from this blog entry.]
This is reminiscent of third-grade experiments in botanical propagation:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10157566447588037&set=a.10150257656758037&type=3&theater
Or a Biblical quotation made manifest:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163144285155574&set=gm.3101453046534483&type=3&theater
Finally, just how elusive is a roll of toilet paper these days, anyway:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10159709038558066&set=a.489047123065&type=3&theater
The quarantining going on these days gives rise to such comments as "Actually, it's only Quarantine if it comes from the Quarantine Region of France; otherwise, it's merely sparkling isolation."
Punsters are having a good time, as well:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10216781050741303&set=a.2193848528437&type=3&theater&ifg=1
And, finally, a little bit of creativity coming out of this scary experience, as a pianist composes The Coronavirus Etude, for Piano and Disinfecting Wipe:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=whNICyl_et0&fbclid=IwAR2HAQPWZszx1auRMGB1oOxJcjw8yZVXOhkgVagT2v2n_zg51KsbUrtJdpQ&app=desktop
The COVID-19 pandemic is no exception.
Various reactions to the virus have produced a great deal of humor. The silly run on toilet paper is one part that has generated a lot of the funny posts we see on Facebook, for instance:
[Right-click on each link to open in a new window. That way, you don't get taken away entirely from this blog entry.]
This is reminiscent of third-grade experiments in botanical propagation:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10157566447588037&set=a.10150257656758037&type=3&theater
Or a Biblical quotation made manifest:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163144285155574&set=gm.3101453046534483&type=3&theater
Finally, just how elusive is a roll of toilet paper these days, anyway:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10159709038558066&set=a.489047123065&type=3&theater
The quarantining going on these days gives rise to such comments as "Actually, it's only Quarantine if it comes from the Quarantine Region of France; otherwise, it's merely sparkling isolation."
Punsters are having a good time, as well:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10216781050741303&set=a.2193848528437&type=3&theater&ifg=1
And, finally, a little bit of creativity coming out of this scary experience, as a pianist composes The Coronavirus Etude, for Piano and Disinfecting Wipe:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=whNICyl_et0&fbclid=IwAR2HAQPWZszx1auRMGB1oOxJcjw8yZVXOhkgVagT2v2n_zg51KsbUrtJdpQ&app=desktop
Life in the Time of COVID-19
I give credit -- or apologies -- for the title of this post and its followers on this topic to Gabriel García Marquez.
On my mother's side, there is a collateral relative who lived at the time of the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic. She lost her children to the disease, getting no help from her husband. She divorced him and went from Indiana to California to start anew, met a doctor and married him.
What will our lives be like as we go through this pandemic, and hopefully, live to see the end of it? What family stories will come out of this pandemic?
I am going to post about what it is like living through this thing, so that future generations of genealogists and family historians will have some record of what it was like. I don't limit this to my own family, because, for one thing, the family patrimony for future generations is solely in the hands and life of our grandson. For another, any record of what it was like can be used for background for just about anyone's family history.
So here's what it is like.
The outbreak of this virus was just declared a pandemic about a week ago. The entire world is affected. Closer to home, there has been one death so far in my county, at a hospital four miles from our home. How much more exposure there may be, no one knows.
In my state, there have been 314 cases reported so far, with 7 deaths. For some reason, children seem not to be infected at the same rate as adults, according to the Centers for Disease Control, and seem to have milder cases when they do fall ill with it.
My husband and I are 73 and 72, respectively. He is actually pretty healthy, but I have a bunch of chronic conditions. The recommendation for folks our age is to stay home. My husband and I, natural homebodies, do that pretty much, anyway. We have been in the habit of going out to eat something like once a week, but we're not doing that any more for a while. My husband went to the grocery store yesterday to stock up, so we have plenty of meats, frozen vegetables, fruit, and other grocery supplies.
He said that people were crazy. He also went to BJs wholesale club yesterday, and said that the toilet paper was gone, and the shelves where it had been were stocked with bottled water. You'd think a category five hurricane was coming, not a possible 14-days at home to avoid exposure.
The economic impact of this pandemic could be disastrous. Restaurants are being ordered to close. Universities, colleges, and public schools are shutting down. Our grandson has an extra two weeks off right now, in addition to his school's spring break. He's a fifteen-year-old freshman in high school. Our older daughter, enrolled in the doctoral program in audiology at the University of Florida, is attending her classes online rather than in person. The university is even making some plans to put all their clinical rotations online rather than in person, too. As a forner registered nurse, I'm not sure how well that could work. In the health professions, you need that hands-on work to learn a lot of what you need to learn, and practice your diagnostic and treatment skills.
Our younger daughter works in an industry which may not feel as much economic damage as some. She works for a national food distribution company, in a very necessary job of solving problems in accounts payable. As she is on the money end of it, that might help her job keep going.
In subsequent posts, I'll talk about such aspects of the disease as the gallows humor coming out of it, how handwashing has given rise to several mantras, and how we've had a less than stellar performance by the government (this will get political). Stay tuned.
On my mother's side, there is a collateral relative who lived at the time of the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic. She lost her children to the disease, getting no help from her husband. She divorced him and went from Indiana to California to start anew, met a doctor and married him.
What will our lives be like as we go through this pandemic, and hopefully, live to see the end of it? What family stories will come out of this pandemic?
I am going to post about what it is like living through this thing, so that future generations of genealogists and family historians will have some record of what it was like. I don't limit this to my own family, because, for one thing, the family patrimony for future generations is solely in the hands and life of our grandson. For another, any record of what it was like can be used for background for just about anyone's family history.
So here's what it is like.
The outbreak of this virus was just declared a pandemic about a week ago. The entire world is affected. Closer to home, there has been one death so far in my county, at a hospital four miles from our home. How much more exposure there may be, no one knows.
In my state, there have been 314 cases reported so far, with 7 deaths. For some reason, children seem not to be infected at the same rate as adults, according to the Centers for Disease Control, and seem to have milder cases when they do fall ill with it.
My husband and I are 73 and 72, respectively. He is actually pretty healthy, but I have a bunch of chronic conditions. The recommendation for folks our age is to stay home. My husband and I, natural homebodies, do that pretty much, anyway. We have been in the habit of going out to eat something like once a week, but we're not doing that any more for a while. My husband went to the grocery store yesterday to stock up, so we have plenty of meats, frozen vegetables, fruit, and other grocery supplies.
He said that people were crazy. He also went to BJs wholesale club yesterday, and said that the toilet paper was gone, and the shelves where it had been were stocked with bottled water. You'd think a category five hurricane was coming, not a possible 14-days at home to avoid exposure.
The economic impact of this pandemic could be disastrous. Restaurants are being ordered to close. Universities, colleges, and public schools are shutting down. Our grandson has an extra two weeks off right now, in addition to his school's spring break. He's a fifteen-year-old freshman in high school. Our older daughter, enrolled in the doctoral program in audiology at the University of Florida, is attending her classes online rather than in person. The university is even making some plans to put all their clinical rotations online rather than in person, too. As a forner registered nurse, I'm not sure how well that could work. In the health professions, you need that hands-on work to learn a lot of what you need to learn, and practice your diagnostic and treatment skills.
Our younger daughter works in an industry which may not feel as much economic damage as some. She works for a national food distribution company, in a very necessary job of solving problems in accounts payable. As she is on the money end of it, that might help her job keep going.
In subsequent posts, I'll talk about such aspects of the disease as the gallows humor coming out of it, how handwashing has given rise to several mantras, and how we've had a less than stellar performance by the government (this will get political). Stay tuned.
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