Well, the first thing that pops into the weird brain of this 70-year-old former Coast Guard member is: What do I look like? I look like hell, sir!
Today I am not at my best. 2017 beat up on me pretty bad, starting midway, in June, when I fell and broke my shoulder. And for the past month, I have been through the Battle of the Kidney Stone, which was finally removed 21 December by being blasted apart with a laser, and I won't go into more detail than to say the final step in the healing process for that was taken today.
I am short, 5'4" tall. I'm not slim, being a sedentary sort and too fond of sweets. My hair is both grey and going away, as I am subject to the same problem of thinning hair that my mother had, and if I make it to 80 I will be one of those old dames with a few wisps of hair clinging to my pink scalp. I think I'm going to develop a fondness for hats.
And they do say that married people come to resemble each other after many years of marriage. We're coming up on 47 years, and my husband is bald as an egg. I'm headed that way.
I also am not by any stretch of the imagination a fashion plate. I'm rather a fashion paper towel, really. Since I was a teen, it has been my deeply-held belief that the fashion industry is nothing more than a plot to separate the gullible from their money. Since I've never had scads of money, anyway, that was a rational position to take!
My fashion for this morning was long socks (compression socks), blue jeans, Land's End water-resistant boots, a turtleneck, gloves, my watch cap that proclaims me to be of the House of Hufflepuff, and my Land's End jacket certified for use down to 20 deg. F. It's cold in northeast Florida today, and wet. Right now, I'm in blue sweatshirt and sweatpants. My motto is a paraphrase of the old Ford slogan, as I maintain that Comfort is Job 1.
I'm only beginning to get wrinkles on my face. I've been mistaken for being 20 years younger than I am, and I maintain that this is the result of my having experimented with make-up in my teen years, like most teenage girls, and having discovered that I was totally and completely inept with it. I decided it would be better if I left it alone. It certainly has been better for my skin! And the money I saved on not buying that stuff left me with the option of being able to buy books instead! That also worked out for the better.
What do I look like? Well, here is a photo taken about 10 years ago, when I was a student at the University of North Florida -- I went back to college at age 60, got 2 post-baccalaureate degrees, then went on to grad school. But that is a story for another day.
Karen LeSueur Packard Rhodes's musings about genealogy, including recent developments, methods and sources, her own family history, and whatever is and can be related to them.
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
Monday, January 1, 2018
The Book of Me: Who Am I?
I first answered this particular blogging prompt in 2013. I did three more of the Book of Me, Written by You prompts, provided by Julie Goucher. Then I got distracted, and did not complete the year's posts.
Julie is doing the Book again. We've both been subject to distractions, but will try to soldier on.
So the first prompt, just as it was the last time, is to answer the question "Who am I?" at least 20 times. My answers have changed somewhat, as my situation has changed. So here, with the first responses that come into my mind, are my answers to this question.
I am . . .
A historian.
A writer.
A genealogist.
A translator of 200-year-old Spanish documents.
A wife.
A mother.
A grandmother.
An aunt.
A grand-aunt!
A lover of music of various kinds.
A reader.
A person owned by a cat.
A punster.
A curmudgeon.
A stubborn woman.
A former Coast Guard member -- active and reserve, enlisted and officer.
A "Floridated" Californian.
An old person with various medical issues.
A person with a too-active sweet tooth!
A football fan (especially this year, with the Jaguars in the playoffs!).
Julie is doing the Book again. We've both been subject to distractions, but will try to soldier on.
So the first prompt, just as it was the last time, is to answer the question "Who am I?" at least 20 times. My answers have changed somewhat, as my situation has changed. So here, with the first responses that come into my mind, are my answers to this question.
I am . . .
A historian.
A writer.
A genealogist.
A translator of 200-year-old Spanish documents.
A wife.
A mother.
A grandmother.
An aunt.
A grand-aunt!
A lover of music of various kinds.
A reader.
A person owned by a cat.
A punster.
A curmudgeon.
A stubborn woman.
A former Coast Guard member -- active and reserve, enlisted and officer.
A "Floridated" Californian.
An old person with various medical issues.
A person with a too-active sweet tooth!
A football fan (especially this year, with the Jaguars in the playoffs!).
Saturday, June 24, 2017
You know what happens when you assume . . .
It
makes a mess.
You
may have thought I was going to say something else. Well, that, too. In this post, the names have been changed to
protect the innocent, it not being my intention to embarrass someone who took on
a tremendous challenge, and did fairly well with it, all things considered.
In
my data-gathering activities on St. Augustine, Florida, 1784-1821, I am working
in a particular set of documents, using a translation of them. This was a daunting task for any translator
to undertake, and an important one. The
documents in this set are old and brittle, and not available for researchers
without some clout. They are on
microfilm and also now digitized. The
ink has faded, the paper has yellowed.
There are smudges and worm holes making parts of them unreadable or at
least very difficult to read. And the
most difficult of all is that this entry under consideration is in
ecclesiastical Latin. There are errors
in this translation, and some of those errors are based on erroneous
assumptions. Here are some lessons from
this finding:
1.
Never assume that,
just because a person is mentioned in a record from a particular location, that
person actually was in that location.
There
is an entry in this set of documents about a baptism, attributing parentage
erroneously. The document attributes the
parentage of a person I’ll call B to a couple I’ll call A and D. This baptism took place in a location in East Florida, more than one day's travel from St. Augustine at that time. The translator refers us to another set of
documents, later and more complete, to another baptism purporting to prove this
point. However, the translator misread
the later document, and attributed parentage erroneously, not thinking of the
possibility of two people with the same name.
I found that B had a brother named C, but C’s mother was not D. Not only that, there was another man in these
records with the same name as A, whom we will call A-. A- was the one married to D, and they also
had a son with the same name as C (call him C-). The translator of the earlier set of
documents tried to establish that the surname of D was the surname of E and that they were one and the same person, but
this is not so because it was A who was married to E, and A- who was married to
D. C- had emigrated to the place where these
records were created. His parents, A-
and D, did not emigrate; they stayed in the old country. Therefore, D could not have been the wife of A and the mother of either B or C. So even though they are named in a record
involving their son C- after he emigrated, A- and D never were in the place to
which C- emigrated, where the document that mentions them was created.
2.
Never assume that
finding a name in a later record has yielded the person you think it has.
Here,
again, we have the phenomenon of two people with the same name. Both A and A- had sons with the same name; these are C
and C-, respectively. As shown, above, A was married to E and later to F, but never to D. A- was D's husband. E died before the year 1780, because
in that year, A married F. At that time
and in that place, pretty much the only way A could have had a second marriage
was for the first to have been dissolved by death. Divorce was unthinkable (and not approved by
the church), and even a permanent separation prohibited subsequent marriage.
C-
married G in January of 1797. By August
of that same year, they had their first child, a son, baptized. It is in this document that the name of D is
mentioned as the mother of C-. So the
translator of the earlier document looked in a document created 17 years later,
found the name and attributed it to the mother of C, when it actually referred
to the mother of C-, whose existence the translator had not contemplated. As for the spouse
of D, it cannot have been A. A married E
before 1764, the year that C, their oldest child, was born. E died, as I said, before 1780, because that
is when A married F. When A died in
1790, he was still married to F, as shown on his death record in the diocesan
archives, so he never could have been married to D. So the man the translator found in the 1797
record was not C, but C-, whose father was A-, not A. And A- was the one married to D. You cannot just go shopping in documents for
names and settle on one as being the one you are looking for. This is definitely not a “reasonably
exhaustive search,” and one record does not a confirmation make. More than one record must be found for
corroboration or refutation of one’s hypothesis. There is always the possibility of two
individuals with the same name, a phenomenon I have found repeatedly (and
frustratingly, many times) among the residents and citizens of St. Augustine.
3.
Never assume that
because you found one name in a record, he is associated with the other names
you want to associate with him.
In
another entry in the same early set of documents in this particular
translation, there is mention of a man we will call S. S is mentioned in a baptism document in this
set as the father of the infant baptizand.
The name of the mother is not entered into the record. This may have been a case of a mother who died
in childbirth, but not necessarily, as the record does not mention the man
being widowed. It may have been a
liaison that resulted in an illegitimate child and possible embarrassment for
the mother and her family. At any rate,
the translator maintains that the mother of the child in this baptism was M,
daughter of P. P was the consort of one
of the most prominent men in St. Augustine, who was not married. The problem with this is that there is more
than one man named S, and also that there is no evidence that either M or P was
in the particular location covered by these particular documents, a location in
East Florida, but outside of St. Augustine by a good distance. The translator refers to a specific entry in
a census done in a much later year in St. Augustine. All that the particular entry in the census
mentions is the children of the consort P and her prominent paramour. S is not mentioned at all in that census. M did marry a man of the same name as S (call
him S-), but that occurred in 1803. In
the year of the baptism in that earlier time in that place outside of St.
Augustine, M, who was 24 in 1803, had not yet been born! She could not possibly have been the mother
of the infant baptizand fathered by S. Quite
possibly S- had not yet been born, either, at the time the translator tries to
tell us he fathered the baby in question.
Here again, we have a case of two people with the same name, and again a
mistaken assumption and not enough questioning of both the assumptions and the
sources.
Sunday, June 11, 2017
So original records are completely reliable, are they?
I have had some knotty problems to work out in my St. Augustine project. This is one of the most amusing, to me.
I have a file on a fellow named Jose Manuel de Cala, and his wife, Francisca Rosy (or Rosi, the Spanish expression of the Italian name Rossi). Francisca presents the problem, or, rather, the identification of her parents does. It appears, deceptively, like there was a bit of Oedipus Rex here.
In the petition filed by Jose Dulcet for permission to marry Francisca, her first of three marriages, she is shown to be the daughter of Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans.(1) Likewise, in the original record from the St. Augustine diocesan archive of that marriage, she is again shown to be the daughter of Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans. (2) Again, on the original church record of her second marriage, to Francisco Sanchez, her parents are listed as Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans (wait for it; we're getting there).(3)
Okay, so there is all this evidence that Francisca's parents were as we have hashed out here. However, when it came time for her to enter her third marriage, she having buried two husbands (life was riskier in those days), her father's name is suddenly Cayetano.(4) On her death record, as well, the same name is recorded as Francisca's father.(5) Both of these are original records.
So I dug further, in a translation I have of the church records of the San Pedro parish in New Smyrna, the plantation of Andrew Turnbull, where numbers of Minorcans, Italians, Greeks, and a few other nationalities were in conscripted labor growing and processing indigo. I found a Cayetano Rosy, born 1 November 1773, baptized 2 November 1773, son of (are you ready?) Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans.(6) I also found Francisca Rosy, born 31 January 1780, baptized 6 February 1780, daughter of (yes, you're right) Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans.(7) There is another Cayetano Rosy there, too, but he was older, and married to someone else, not to Francisca Sans. At least I was relieved to find that Francisca's brother had not married their mother!
Heed the warning: even an original record can be dead wrong!
1. Petition of Jose Dulcet for permission to marry Francisca Rosy, Matrimonial licenses, Reel 132, Bundle 298R9, No. 89, East Florida Papers.
2. Marriage of Jose Dulcet and Francisca Rosy, Ecclesiastical Records of the St. Augustine Diocese, White Marriages, Book 1, 1784-1801, 131-132, entry 148, http://vanderbilt.edu /esss/spanishflorida/index.php.
3. Marriage of Francisco Sanchez and Francisca Rosy, Ecclesiastical Records of the St. Augustine Diocese, White Marriages, Book 1, 1784-1801, 23 [no entry numbers], http://vanderbilt.edu /esss /spanishflorida/index.php.
4. Marriage of Jose Manuel de Cala and Francisca Rosy, Ecclesiastical Records of the St. Augustine Diocese, White Marriages, Book 2, 1802-1832, 99, entry 108, http://vanderbilt.edu /esss /spanishflorida/index.php.
5. Death and burial of Francisca Rosy, Ecclesiastical Records of the St. Augustine Diocese, Deaths, Book 2, 1809-1882, 17-18, entry 34, http://vanderbilt.edu /esss/spanishflorida/index.php.
6. Leonard J. McCown, compiler, Father Pedro Camps' Golden Book of the Minorcans (Irving, TX: self-published, 2003), 16.
7. Leonard J. McCown, compiler, Father Pedro Camps' Golden Book of the Minorcans (Irving, TX: self-published, 2003), 39.
I have a file on a fellow named Jose Manuel de Cala, and his wife, Francisca Rosy (or Rosi, the Spanish expression of the Italian name Rossi). Francisca presents the problem, or, rather, the identification of her parents does. It appears, deceptively, like there was a bit of Oedipus Rex here.
In the petition filed by Jose Dulcet for permission to marry Francisca, her first of three marriages, she is shown to be the daughter of Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans.(1) Likewise, in the original record from the St. Augustine diocesan archive of that marriage, she is again shown to be the daughter of Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans. (2) Again, on the original church record of her second marriage, to Francisco Sanchez, her parents are listed as Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans (wait for it; we're getting there).(3)
Okay, so there is all this evidence that Francisca's parents were as we have hashed out here. However, when it came time for her to enter her third marriage, she having buried two husbands (life was riskier in those days), her father's name is suddenly Cayetano.(4) On her death record, as well, the same name is recorded as Francisca's father.(5) Both of these are original records.
So I dug further, in a translation I have of the church records of the San Pedro parish in New Smyrna, the plantation of Andrew Turnbull, where numbers of Minorcans, Italians, Greeks, and a few other nationalities were in conscripted labor growing and processing indigo. I found a Cayetano Rosy, born 1 November 1773, baptized 2 November 1773, son of (are you ready?) Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans.(6) I also found Francisca Rosy, born 31 January 1780, baptized 6 February 1780, daughter of (yes, you're right) Jose Rosy and Francisca Sans.(7) There is another Cayetano Rosy there, too, but he was older, and married to someone else, not to Francisca Sans. At least I was relieved to find that Francisca's brother had not married their mother!
Heed the warning: even an original record can be dead wrong!
1. Petition of Jose Dulcet for permission to marry Francisca Rosy, Matrimonial licenses, Reel 132, Bundle 298R9, No. 89, East Florida Papers.
2. Marriage of Jose Dulcet and Francisca Rosy, Ecclesiastical Records of the St. Augustine Diocese, White Marriages, Book 1, 1784-1801, 131-132, entry 148, http://vanderbilt.edu /esss/spanishflorida/index.php.
3. Marriage of Francisco Sanchez and Francisca Rosy, Ecclesiastical Records of the St. Augustine Diocese, White Marriages, Book 1, 1784-1801, 23 [no entry numbers], http://vanderbilt.edu /esss /spanishflorida/index.php.
4. Marriage of Jose Manuel de Cala and Francisca Rosy, Ecclesiastical Records of the St. Augustine Diocese, White Marriages, Book 2, 1802-1832, 99, entry 108, http://vanderbilt.edu /esss /spanishflorida/index.php.
5. Death and burial of Francisca Rosy, Ecclesiastical Records of the St. Augustine Diocese, Deaths, Book 2, 1809-1882, 17-18, entry 34, http://vanderbilt.edu /esss/spanishflorida/index.php.
6. Leonard J. McCown, compiler, Father Pedro Camps' Golden Book of the Minorcans (Irving, TX: self-published, 2003), 16.
7. Leonard J. McCown, compiler, Father Pedro Camps' Golden Book of the Minorcans (Irving, TX: self-published, 2003), 39.
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