the good old days

If you’re not going by primary sources when researching your family tree, there’s always a risk that there was a transcription error, or somebody connected the wrong facts to people.

This is actually the eighth ancestor of mine who is listed in various records as being buried alive — she’s probably the longest underground survivor, though. Well done, Miriam.

Finally got around to posting my grandmother’s recipe!

Fruit Cake (Old fashioned Dark)
l lb. mixed candied fruit
l lb. raisins
1/4 cup sherry, dark fruit juice whatever (I like to use port wine)
1/4 cup molasses
l cup butter
1/2 cups dark brown sugar
4 eggs
2 cups flour
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. each mace and cloves
1 tsp. cinnamon

Mix fruit, molasses and wine. Let stand overnight.

Cream butter sugar & eggs. Add fruits & dry ingredients, mix. Fills 3 small loaf pans or 2 medium loaf pans or 2 1/2 qt. casserole. Line with foil and grease.

Bake at 275 for 2-1/2 hours with a dish of water in the oven. Cool and wrap in another layer of foil. Keeps for weeks, in fact improves with time.

A nice side effect of soaking 2 pounds of fruit in alcohol overnight: your kitchen smells delightfully fruity (and boozy) in the morning.

I learned (or rather re-learned) an important science lesson when creaming “butter sugar & eggs”. At first, I just dumped them all in a bowl together, then turned on the mixer. And waited. And waited. And waited. Not even my Magical Mixer was able to get these things to cream — instead, it was a soupy brown liquid with floating chunks of butter.

Butter is a fat. Fats are lipids. Lipids are hydrophobic, and will not mix with water. Eggs contain quite a lot of water — so I had dissolved the sugar in the eggs, and then tried to convince the butter to mix in, which it refused to do.

Luckily, I was able to strain the butter out…

…which was an incredibly messy job, and then dump the butter back into the mixer for better creaming. Adding the egg-and-sugar back to the creamed butter veeeeeery slowly did the trick.

Aside from that moment of stupidity, it was quite simple to mix everything together. It tastes like a light gingerbread, and is definitely a holiday flavor. When two pounds of fruit are mixed in, it’s incredibly dense!

I made it into cute little loaves and managed to give them all away without remembering to take a picture of the final baked product. Oops.

I’m not sure how to describe the flavor of these, because what comes to mind is “Grandma’s fruitcake”. I do recommend it, though. Take an opportunity to make a classic and remind friends and family that fruitcake isn’t necessarily disgusting (or nutty). Just make sure you try it this month, not December 2033.

The parents:

Our adorable offspring:

Images from TurnYourNameIntoAFace.com — you’ll get very different results if you include last names.

Another fascinating story with very little information about what’s actually going on, from my family’s archived letters of yore…

Dear Mrs Bagnall–

This evening, in the heat of an argument, I said something which I keenly regret, something I regret, not only because it is not the truth, but because it is not what I believe. The world seems to be making somewhat of a cynic out of me and I forget sometimes that there are some people who are all that they appear to be and could not possibly be covered by my statement of tonight.

If you could realize the respect and regard in which I hold the friendship of yourself and Mr. Bagnall as well as that of Rosalind, you would also realize that I could not intentionally say or think of anything so utterly foreign to that regard as was my much regretted statement of tonight.

Please forgive me as an unthinking, impetuous boy who knows a worthwhile friend when he finds one but who is badly worried now for fear of losing the most sincere, the kindest, the best one of them all.

Honestly, hopefully, and sincerely yours,
Fred D. Morgan

Whatever Fred said, apparently not even this apology would make up for it. Rosalind married a nice boy named Paul about a year later

My uncle recently passed on a gold mine of old correspondence and miscellaneous papers that somehow survived for generations. I’m slowly scanning and transcribing them for personal genealogy purposes. Some of them, however, are quite funny.

This one is from some nephew of my great-great-great-grandfather.

Ottawa
Franklin County
Kansas
Febr’y 4th 1866
Mr. Andrew J. Smith

My Dear Uncle,

I will try and converse with you silently, but through asking medium (the sew) Etta has gone across the street to meeting to hear the old minister at Kastmison [??] deliver one of his good Sermons. But I am alone and did not nor do not feel very much like going to church. And I thought I could make it a very interesting moment to write to you.

In the first place, Dear Uncle, let our Conversations one to the other be strictly Confidential, uttering truth and veracity, being honest and true to our trust, treating every Subject that may come before our observation or hearing with Justice and Prosperity to all. Too doubtless are our Correspondence comes to “finish” it will be interesting to both.

In the first place I wish to give you my Position and Circumstances in life, what they have been and what they are now and what I would wish to be in the future. As a young man in Business I am considered by those who have tried my facilities to be very good, honest, and prudent, and an eye to Business. My Circumstances when I cam out of the army were good. I had the means to have gone right along with anything. But my mother disappointed me Sadly and almost left me with poverty staring, staring me in the face. My wife when I first came here became very sick with Bilious intermittent fever and almost died. But medical aid restored her to very good health again, and when her Doctor Bill and my Bill of Expense in the Law Suit for my mules, I had 15 cents in Currency. I sat down and looked at the world and then at my wife and myself, and I concluded work was no disgrace, however talented, and I went to hard labor at a saw mill here. From that to clerking and now I have just finished a small building here on Main Street at an expense of $202. The lot I built upon is to be paid for within a Year from the time I came upon it, as for $150, I am to pay yearly $20.00 for rent of said lot. I have a choice to buy at what town lots are selling for or pay 20 a year for the lease of it. I desire to go into the Grocery Business and Tobacco & Cigar Business as I am a cigar maker by trade and also a Barber by trade. And I think by discreet management, I will in 40-50 years come out all right. My means are all in my house now. But if I can fill it by labor I will do so, and by the way if I should wish any of your assistance could you give it to me. I do not think I will need any assistance at present But in the Spring I may want more means than I will then have and if I should need ask it of you I will give you security if you desire it. But if I Borrow from you I will want 2 years time and pay the last cent on the money you furnish.

I may wish to Borrow $200 and with what I will then have I can open a good Business. But if I draw the $200 bounty the 161 [61?] soldiers or those who received only 100 I will need no assistance and if you know whether that Bounty Bill has passed let me know. I heard it had passed the house. I am working at my trade now and am doing very well considering I save about $5.00 per week a living beside. But I am going to make money faster soon if I have good success. I understand Mr. Donnbergh is agoing to move to this place but he can’t do any better than I. one consolation at least his money does not trouble him any I guess. I am well and Etta also. She sends love to you and Aunt Mary. Have you any cousins to me left. Don’t read this line only in the dark. I have no family left and a slim chance of if ever I have. Accept my love &c

Your nephew Henry

Ex-soldier, counting on an inheritance but ending up with a bilious wife and lien on his mules, ends up building a house in Ottawa Kansas and going into random business as a grocer/tobacconist/barber.

At least this man can spell; Andrew Smith’s brother-in-law wrote many letters home to his sister, and spelled everything phonetically. Arrrrrgh…

I’ve been digging into my family tree, and learned that my 3x-great-grandfather (Sylvanus) was a Union soldier in the Civil War. A cousin-once-removed that I recently reconnected with had an amazing anecdote…

I grew up with Mom telling me about Ophelia’s husband [Sylvanus] dying on the train returning from Sherman’s March. He died of starvation, 17 miles from home, on his return home to her. Ophelia was given his body when she met the train. He was barely recognizable — filthy and emaciated and long-haired and bearded. Ophelia grieved his loss the rest of her life. It was a heart-breaking story that I heard many times.

That’s seriously awful — go to the station to meet your spouse, end up taking home a coffin. At least the modern army manages to properly feed its soldiers.

What makes this additionally poignant (and just a bit ironic) is that I recently moved to Columbia, SC, which he helped to destroy.