Sadness - Acceptance

I recently got an e-mail from a talented, dear person that I admire who has recently lost her father to cancer and her 103+ year old grandmother nearly at the same time.

I had no real words of comfort for her. I still have no real words of comfort for her.

Another friend finds the occasion of her father's birthday to be painful even after nearly 20 years of his passing.

I had no real words of comfort for her either...Someone commented on her entry and said this:

"The relentless forward march of time produces many events in our lives, both fair and unfair. These events in turn, merge into a bittersweet mosaic called “memories,” Those memories never diminish or get easier to bear. We merely condition ourselves.

It’s called acceptance."

And while I found myself nodding in agreement...I thought there has to be something more.

My nephew's recent graduation was the source of some distress - or rather a slide show composed of many pictures showing him growing from a wee baby to the grown adult he now is, was...because in those many pictures were very few me and him - or my parents and him...

Granted my older brother doesn't live around the corner - but the 360 miles that separate us are nothing - to a family as nomadic as mine - I know I'm rarely home on weekends - and my parents, well, they could be anywhere in the country on any given weekend... they just weren't in upstate New York very often, or at least not for photo opportunities.

There was and is more than mere miles that separated us - it's things said that can't be unsaid - hurt feelings that a simple apology can't heal... petty dislikes, personality quirks, and just plain impatience with each other's perceived shortcomings, foibles and eccentricities.

My point is this - letting this get in the way of family and friends...of shared times together has led to some internal grief and self-remonstrations, that could have been avoided.

I know others that suffer from family squabbles and worse. Much of the bad temper is caused by the pettiest of things. Yes, we all have a right to our opinions and yes, there is (supposedly) freedom of speech in this country, but...sometimes keeping one's mouth shut can demonstrate character. A type of character once held by any "gentleman" worthy of the title. A gentler, kinder world would be a much nicer one. A little more "compromise" and a little more "meeting half way" would have changed how things unfurled over the past 16-18-20 years.

Unfortunately, some mouths weren't kept shut. And sometimes people took on things that were "none of their business". My brother's families were (and are) theirs to raise - negative and/or snide comments about how they are managing this difficult "untaught" task were and are not appreciated, even if there was a voice of hard-learned experience behind them and even if they were "told you so, right".

And so, I went digging, putting my nose where I didn't, and don't, think it belongs, to find a picture...where my parents were together with the graduating nephew.


..and found one. My sister-in-law took this photograph of my parents, her family, and the neighbors (with the requisite dogs) down at the seashore. The old woman in the center suffered from bad health and the day of this photo, she had one of very rare "good days" as she is standing up in front of her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren. She died the following winter.

No, I don't think events form a "bittersweet mosaic called 'memories'," they form extended and fantastically complicated, interconnected mosaics - with some of mine in yours - and some of yours in mine - and with parts neither of us can see...

I ought to see that the neighbor's daughter gets a copy of this photo.

And I ought to tell some family that - what is past is past - we need to focus on the future - and try to make it less bitter and more sweet.

A Weekend in Rochester, NY

Just a short entry today - I'm a little busy at work (thank heavens for that!) and very busy trying to catch up with everyone else as well as write cards in the spare minutes...

This past weekend was my youngest nephew's High School graduation ceremony.


Here he grins for me after I told him I was impressed with his diploma and that I thought it was nice to get a piece a paper for basically continuing to breath for 17 years. I told him college might be a little more "challenging".


He's got a good life - he can bowl 300 games, hit holes in one on the golf course, been accepted into Rochester Institute of Technology and has a fabulous girl friend that graduated in the same class as he did. Look at that smile on her! Her heart is just as big.


After eating celebratory cake and ice cream and having a picnic with burgers and hot dogs - it was time to get out and walk some. My brother lives near the Lehigh Valley Railroad Black Diamond trail, a 12-mile railroad bed that has been turned into a bike-walk trail that meanders through the farms and woods. I have a hard time walking across bridges - vertigo - bridgephobia - whatever you want to call it, bothers me mightily. Fortunately this bridge was at the very end of our walk, so my older brother and his dog walked over it and back - just to be able to say they walked the whole way.

It's a beautiful trail - click here to see some pictures others have taken.

Do you see him coming?

The dog takes the lead! I think she spotted me! Her name is Keilau (after my brother and his wife, Keith and Laurie).


Coming closer and closer!


Hey!! Who's that!!?!

I think this is my favorite picture from the entire weekend. I really enjoyed getting out and walking - and to make it even more exciting, we saw some animals!

As in snakes... four-five foot long black snakes... Chipmunks, squirrels (sorry Charlie, no photos), frogs...

...and a baby deer... just a few days old! A spotted fawn that was mostly stilt-like legs! I would have taken a picture of him/her but I had the dog, Keilau and her leash in hand - and she was going coo-coo for cocoa puffs as the little fawn wobbled off!

Phorgotton Old Fotos

Being from Filadelfia, I'm supposed to use the "ph" combination where the rest of the English speaking world uses the "f" letter. It seems to me that I ought to use the "f" letter where the rest of the world uses the "ph" combination.

Anywhoooooo...

Hidden away in a small cardboard box that was given to me recently by my step-aunt after she found it in my grandfather's cellar (the place where the ghost lives on a lumpy dirt floor) were more pictures. I estimate I now have about 300 "phorgotten old fotos" to sort through - some crumbling away as I lift them from the equally crumbly cardboard box.

As an aside, my step-aunt is now the proud owner of the oldest log house in Quakertown, PA. Let's hope the ghost(s) are good to her and her husband.

It seems fitting that as this is the month of June, the wed-ding-est month of the year, that we should look at some wedding pictures. I'm sure Far Side of Fifty thinks so... :)

So here is one - this is a large photograph. It measures about 8 1/2 by 9 3/4. One of the most interesting (to me) parts is the reversed lettering on the edge of print. I have no idea who the happy couple are - and I'm not positive - but I think my grandparents are standing on the far left behind the girl with the big white bow.

According to my parents, my grandfather's hair turned white a long time ago, perhaps in the 1930's - and no one recalls ever seeing him with dark hair. Maybe Far Side's expert foto-dating expertise can help us out - if these are my grandparents - I would guess they are about 20 and the year about 1930. If the foto date's is much earlier than that - than it couldn't be them.



Stuck to the back of the above photo, is a somewhat more modern foto. When I saw this, my eyes 'phelt' like they popped out! What they heck?!?


At first I wondered if there were any "little people" in my family, and if so, this would be a startling revelation indeed!

But looking more closely at the foto, the little people, seem to be, little as in youngsters as opposed to ...well, very short adults.

I scratched my head and pondered... and yes, Google is my friend... for I found that there used to be a fad where people had youngsters dress up for 'fake' weddings - called Tom Thumb Weddings. The inspiration for this silliness was this:

The Tom Thumb Wedding was inspired by the famous couple Charles Stratton and Lavinia Warren. They appeared at P. T. Barnum's, Barnum's American Museum in New York in the 1800's. Charles Stratton known as General Tom Thumb was deeply in love with Lavinia Warren. It was said they fell in love at first sight. On February 10, 1863 the couple married in New York's Grace Church. It was a Lavish affair.

...Everyone wanted to attend the ceremony. The only way you could get in to see the couple exchange their vows was to have an invite.

Shortly after, "The Greatest Little Wedding," people everywhere were putting on their own Miniature Weddings as plays. The Walter H. Baker & Co. of Boston put out a play 35 years later called, 'The Tom Thumb Wedding." It was published in 1898. Many churches and schools put on theses plays for the fun of it and also as fundraisers.

Source of Quote

When I mentioned "Tom Thumb Wedding," my mom gasped and recalled the setting for this foto. These children were members of my grandmother's church - as their Sunday School teacher, my grandmother was asked to stage a Tom Thumb Wedding as a fundraiser. My mom didn't remember how well that worked out or even when this took place (except "way back") - nor do either of us know any of these little ones in the foto that "suffered" through this bit of "tom-phoolery."

I hope you all have a nice weekend! My youngest nefew (The 300 Game Bowler) graduates from High School this weekend.

Life Goes On...

Yesterday, my dad called me "bright and early" (which is way too early) in the morning, and long before I normally wake up, so I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and groggily groaned a hello saying, "(lots of throat clearing) urmm... huh? yeahm?"

He blurts out without any introduction, "I called the guy, he can go today, want to come with me?"

I squeeze my eyes close and moan before replying, "What guy?"

"The Airplane Guy," is his not so-illuminating reply.

Slowly my brain shifts out of neutral as some blood starts to pump into the attic, and I become aware of my surroundings... Hmmm.. sometime during the night I traded ends on the sofa - no wonder I was so disoriented.

The Airplane Guy - Oh yeah... you see, way back in November of last year, the family got together and arranged for a "test drive" of an airplane he would like to buy and fly, but won't, as a Christmas gift. Now that's what you give a guy that has everything!

It's a lightweight sports model - apparently you only need a driver's license and a couple hours of training to fly one. The airplanes in this category are limited in size, how much they can carry, and how fast they can go.

So anyway, he's been waiting since Christmas for the day he got his ride - and yesterday was the big day.

So after I got out of sofa and showered, I called my Dad back and said, "I'm awake now, and yes, I'll come watch you take your flight. Are you sure the weather is okay?" My dad replies, "I didn't ask."

So I ended up calling "The Airplane Guy" (he has a real name - really!) and he said, "Hmmm.. the forecast looks good - why don't you come to the field this afternoon - say one o'clock?"


My dad and I pulled into the gate at the airfield at 1:00 PM sharp (I like being punctual) and at 1:01 PM sharp - it started to rain - and not just a light rain, a cats and dogs downpour.


So we decided to wait a little bit and see if the storm would blow off - and while we waited, we got a free tour of several nearby hangers and looked at (but did not touch) a bunch of shiny airplanes.

Eventually, the skies cleared - [begin sarcasm font]I was so glad I called[end sarcasm font].


...and my Dad folded himself up and into the seat...


...and off he went with "The Airplane Guy". They took off and flew right over my head before disappearing out of sight for nearly an hour.


...at long last they returned - and my dad's grin was from ear to ear.


So life goes on -

- and now I will find some time to write some "Thank You" notes - to mail to some incredibly thoughtful people. I look at these sympathy cards I received and then look at that picture of my dad with his thumbs up and that huge smile...

...and I know things are going to be okay.

My Grandmother's Desk

For many years, my grandmother's desk was in the upstairs room that had my grandfather's recliner chair and console television. There were some wooden baby cradles that served as magazine racks. My brothers and I were always welcomed to stay in this room - and if we got to rough-housing, we were told, not to do so near grandmom's desk.

My grandmother was a huge letter writer. She wrote dozens of letters every week - and many of them at this desk (the rest she wrote in idle moments at work at the family foundry where she answered the phones, did the payroll and kept the books.)


My younger brother, who seems to have been destined to go Massachusetts Institute of Technology poses proudly in his new t-shirt in front of Grandmother's desk (c. 1966).

A couple weeks ago, this desk made its way to my neice - who is now its proud owner and is now laughing at this picture of her dad. She polished it until it gleamed and while cleaning it - she noticed a bit of "funny business" inside - and said, "Unc K! What is that?" and I looked closely. It was a hidden drawer tucked away behind some fancy scrollwork. After scratching my head for a bit, I determined how it opened... and out came a stack of photographs I have never seen.


On top of the pile was this photograph of a charter bus advertising the 7th edition - 1947 Ice Capades in Atlantic City's Convention Hall. The men with the musical instruments are total mysteries to me. I looked up the Ice Capades history and found out they were formed in 1940 in Hershey, Pennsylvania. But there are no markings on this photograph and no explanation for how it came to be in my grandmother's desk.


Under the bus (so to speak) was this photograph - I got goose bumps when I saw it - for at long last, I could see what my great-grandfather - the one that had been killed by a train in 1924 - looked like - for here he is, holding my grandmother in his arms. My great-grandmother has her arms around my great-uncle William. Evidently, this photograph was taken in the backyard of their rowhome in Kensington, Philadelphia, it says, "Family of 2314 East Letterly Street" on the reverse.


I must of looked a little stunned, for my neice asked, "Unc K? you okay?" and I could only nod mutely - as I gazed upon this photograph of my great-grandparents laughing and smiling as they pose with my great-aunt Eleanor. Eleanor was the baby in the family and years later would move to Chula Vista, California where she became the town's first woman mayor.


And then I saw the next picture and my brain came to s screeching halt. This is the cottage that my great-grandfather was building when he was hit by a train at a nearby grade crossing. This photograph is dated September 7, 1924. Eleanor, my Grandmother, and William stand in front of the unfinished building. Little did the young ones suspect that fate had a very cruel twist in store for them - just two months later...

When I saw the unfinished building, a long buried memory came to me - from when I was perhaps seven or eight years old - of a cottage on the Rancocas Creek in Ewansville, New Jersey - my grandfather was given the job of selling this property - none of the children in this photograph wanted to have much to do with the cottage after War World II. My grandmother stayed there with my dad to escape the hot summer in the city and it was a place to keep my dad when he was was ill with the usual childhood contagious illnesses at the time - but outside of that - no one ever went there.

The cottage rotted away from lack of care over the years - I don't think it was actually ever finished. So anyway, my grandfather was told by my grandmother and her brother and sister to sell the place.

My memory comes of the time the place was just sold - and my dad and I went there to remove anything inside that might be of value. I recall only the while we were carrying out a dining room cabinet, I went through a spot in the floor where it had totally rotted and ended up crawling out from under the house pretty well scratched up. Try as I might, I can recall nothing else of substance of the place.


Judging from the laughter, smiles, and obvious pride he had in his family, I know I would have liked my great-grandfather. I can feel the sadness of his loss - even through the distance of time and even though I never knew him. My grandmother tucked his pictures away someday before I was born, and never spoke of him beyond some very guarded and terse phrases. I'm glad to get to "see" glimpses of him.

He is at rest -

Today I made the trip to the cemetery and saw my grandfather (and step-grandmother) lowered into the grave beside my grandmother - it was a sad ceremony - but it in a way it was a healing one - while waiting for the service to begin, I thought about how my grandmother has waited twenty years for her "tardy" husband to "arrive." I waited patiently.

My step-grandmother's ashes were in my grandfather's coffin and she was buried with him - they shared twenty years together and they were both truly good for each other.

The scattered family (both in terms of geography and in blood-marriage relations) came together, albeit briefly - it was touching to see my second cousin lend support to my step-aunt - they are about the same age - and have two very different view points of my grandfather - view points that merged at a common junction. Complicated family dynamics makes them both "sisters" in a way, as my second cousin was raised by my grandparents (she called him Uncle "Bud" since he was her buddy.) And my step-grandmother's daughter went through some hard times and moved in with her mother and my grandfather - and my grandfather adopted her in all but name.

Seeing them hug each other both at the viewing beside the coffin and at graveside - made me ponder on the odd twists and turns that it life. So - unexpected.

My father got up and spoke during the funeral - and expressed a couple sentiments that had everyone in the audience nodding in agreement. My grandfather loved to work (he retired at the age of 92) - and he was an honest, very much respected businessman. While in attendence at the funeral were some that worked with (and for) him for decades - none of them were of my grandfather's generation. He truly was the last of them - out living all his sisters and all of the sister's sons and daughters - it seemed my grandfather was the "old man that worked with my father" to many of those I shook hands with at the funeral.

And one of those people recounted how, after my grandfather had sold his grandfather thousands of cast brass ship fittings over the course of nearly thirty years - my grandfather discovered that he had originally set the price wrong and too high, and the error had gone unnoticed - That very week, he had all the sales receipts for thirty years dragged out of very dusty storage - and he set about recalculating the "right" price - and then after double-checking his work, he drove many miles to give the customer a "refund" check worth tens of thousands of dollars.

That was my grandfather.

And that is why his customers "always came back" and many became my dad's customers.



As emotional as the week has been - remembering all the memories my fifty very active and very full years shared with my Grandfather brings me (my head actually overflows with them) - I have a couple things to fall back on - and one those is the kindness of my friends (that means you!) and the knowing no one could ask for more - either me or my grandfather. My grandfather had a long, busy, very full life doing everything he ever wanted to do. He was surrounded by people that respected, admired, and loved him. He saw the world - literally four dozen or more foreign countries - and how it changed over a hundred years (which is to say, just about everything since the horse and buggy days).

I had a couple surprises too - two collections of old photographs were discovered - photographs I have never seen...


I will scan them in and write about them - when I can. I've a lot of blog reading to catch up on too.

Some of you will remember my writing about my grandmother's father would was killed when crossing some railroad tracks by and oncoming train... there will be an update -

Goodbye Granddad - thanks for the memories

Just shy of his 102nd birthday, my grandfather passed away last night.

I'm just at a loss for words.

Only The Heart May Know

Silent sea, tell this to me,
Where are the children that we used to be?


(Silent sea): At picture shows where nobody goes and only the heart can see.

Starry skies, soft lullabies.
Where do they go when their melody dies?


(Starry skies): To a day... far, far away, that only the heart may know.

Friends we knew follow us, through all of the days of our lives.
Love we shared waits for us there where our wishes forever reside.

Falling tears, memories' mirrors.
Where are the summers, oh, where are the years?


(Falling tears): Carried far to a wandering star that only the heart may know.

Friends we knew follow us through all of the days of our lives.
Love we shared waits for us there where our wishes forever reside...

Starry skies, soft lullabies
Where do they go when their melody dies?


(Starry skies): To a day... far, far away, that only the heart may know...that only the heart may know...

Dan Fogelberg and Emmylou Harris

Charles In Charge

I've written in the past about how my ancestors gravestones had been destroyed and tossed away when my ancestors were dug up and moved - some several times. I promised to tell you about my 3-great grandfather, Charles. I've done some research and lucked out on finding a couple resources that make me think ... well ... my 3-great grandfather was pretty great (even if no one else does).


Charles was born on June 18, 1832 at Belgrave Gate, Leicester, England. He was named for his Uncle Charles (who was born in 1803) and came to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with his parents in 1841 at the tender age of nine years old.

Charles became a US citizen in October 1847 when his father was naturalized. He was at first a cordwainer (a shoemaker) and worked with his father in a shoe and leather goods store on Old Germantown Road (in what became the Kensington neighborhood).


Charles was very active in community work, he helped form the first soup kitchen in the city. He provided outings for poor children to "Soup Island" in the Delaware River. He was a co-founder and member of one of the first Savings and Loan Associations in the country. He was a member of the 2nd Presbyterian Church and the church's fishing club. The logs from the annual fishing cruises make interesting reading.

Charles liquidated the Columbia Brewery for his widowed sister Clara Louisa Wirth and was legal guardian of the five children of another widowed sister, Harriet Dager.


On March 20, 1870, he left "Austin and Mousley" and established his own business under the name of "Charles Mousley Co.", manufacturer of ship, car, and refrigerator hardware. As part of this business, he operated a brass (non-ferrous) foundry.

In 1890, Charles was associated with Dr. McDowell and Theodore Ulmer in the "Enterprise Aluminum Casting Company", and was one of the first foundries to cast aluminum - a technology used by the Wright Brother's in 1903 to create the first powered aircraft's engine. After the experimental stage, the "Enterprise Aluminum Casting Company" was absorbed into the Charles Mousley Company in 1892.

The Charles Mousley Company remained in the family until 1916(?) when it was sold to "Chas. Mousley's Sons Inc." The main plant was on Howard Street below Thompson Street until it was destroyed by fire in 1902 (the lot is now covered by row homes). The "new" plant was built at 12th and Buttonwood (and is currently a vacant lot).

My grandfather's parents and some other family members were excluded from "Chas. Mousley's Sons Inc." for reasons unknown to me, so they opened up another brass foundry very near the original one, and uninspiringly named it the "Cedar Street Foundry" since it was located at Cedar and York Streets.

My grandfather seems to have been disowned, so he was forced to buy this foundry, after his mother died, from her operating partner - even though he had been working there for quite some time. At any rate, the "Cedar Street Foundry" was incorporated as the "Atlas Bronze Corporation" in 1934 and later bought out "Chas. Mousley's Sons Inc." just for spite it seems as it was shutdown shortly thereafter. The "Atlas Bronze Corporation" still exists today, run by my never to retire, father.

Having a family business can be rough on the family. Whatever it was that split the family back around 1915 along with my grandfather's "issues" in the 1930's, caused me to not know many of my "cousins."


Charles married Ann Donal (1835-1898) on September 25, 1853 in the Summerfield Methodist Episcopal Church (which still stands at 2223 East Dauphin Street, Philadelphia). Together they had ten children, six of which lived to adulthood along with the five children they adopted from the widowed sister.

Ann's parents immigrated to Philadelphia from County Antrim, Ireland. Ann had a brother, Thomas James Donal, that fought at Antietam (Civil War) and other battles only to lose his arm after the war was over, in horse and buggy accident. He moved to Marquette, McPherson county, Kansas and had a large (14 children!) family. So I have some more cousins I know nothing about! :)

Anna nee' Mousley Ahlers that you might have noticed on the gravestone - was Charles' granddaughter and she and her husband are buried next to Charles and his wife Ann.

My next project is to determine just who the Rowen's were...