The New Adventures of...
Thrilling tales of mild discomfort and general complacence
Friday, June 15, 2007
Music: Eels - Things the Grandchildren Should Know ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once upon a time (circe 1923) in the Luzurne County Pennsylvania coal mining region, a woman named Gertrude Young had a big decision to make. Her husband, Arthur Morgan, had died in 1923 in terrible accident while working in the mines at the age of 28. Gertrude was now left with a difficult choice. The man she was seeking to marry next, the well off Mr. Brown, was fine with having Gertrude bring her newborn daughter in to the marriage, but her young son Kenneth had to be put somewhere else. Something made him unwelcome in the Brown house, and Gertrude, clearly angleing for the Mother of the Year award, sent her little son to live with her father and sister.
The Browns flourished, and went on to general respectability, producing a half brother for Ken by the name of Warren. Despite getting along generally well, Ken has not seen Warren in over 40 years.
Pop and Dorothy Young did the best they could raising Kenneth Morgan on the tiny salary Pop earned from the mines. They had a bit of help from another one of Gertrude's sisters, Mabel, who managed to earn a nice living working as a secretary (she was apparently very beautiful, with looks like Myrna Loy). But in all the years living with these caring folks, never once did they bring Ken to visit his father's grave, despite living no less than two blocks from the cemetary. Their motives remain unknown. But in the end, Ken, my Pop-Pop, came out a good father and grandfather.
Two days ago, after months of internet based research by myself and my mother, we were able to find Mr. Arthur S. Morgan in Plot 33 of the Nanticoke Cemetary. The story of them actually finding the headstone is quite something. After being slightly delayed by rain, my mother, Pop-Pop and is "ladyfriend" Rita made it to the cemetary. The map they had was horribly outdated, but there was, by coincidence, a man named Thomas Moore taking his daily exercise walk in the graveyard, his father having recently been burried. Mr. Moore had no idea where the old Plot 33 might be, so after another 45 minutes walking up and down the headstones, my mother was sure they wouldn't find Mr. Morgan that day. It had also begun to rain, making continuing the search less than appealing.
As she headed back to the car to break the bad news to Pop-Pop, she heard Mr. Moore yell out across the cemetary. "I found him! I found him! Arthur S. Morgan!" The rain stopped completely. As my mother went toward him, Mr. Moore asked "He died in 1928, right?" Wrong. Arthur Morgan's accident was in 1923. Mom decided to look at the grave just in case and loe and behold....1923! The headstone was old enough that the year was a little faded, making the 3 look like an 8 at a certain angle. Mom found her grandfather. Pop-Pop found his dad.
Apparently my great grandfather was in the Navy, so the local veterans' association had placed a flag on his grave...And some persons unknown had planted two small ferns. Who they are is a mystery, but an interesting one, especially since I saw the virtual flowers at findagrave.com. Regardless, I can tell that it made such a difference to Pop-Pop to be able to visit his father's grave before the end. Thanks goes out to both the internets and Mr. Thomas Moore.
Today, they were trying to come up with information about the rest of pop-pop's family. He thought he had a magic bullet for that. My Aunt Jill has a very old family bible with the family recorded in there.....or at least it would be....if it were the Morgan family bible...
It belongs to the Browns. It has Brown family records in it going back to the mid-1800s, with the Youngs added afterward by Gertrude when she married in. No Morgans except those who are also Youngs.
This means that, at some point over the last 50 years or so, we jacked their bible. I'm so okay with this. Mom says we should try and hunt down her Uncle Warren Brown and see if he wants it back. I say screw it. Our Bible now.We jacked it fair and square, probably after Gertrude Young died in her son Ken's house, never grateful for having been taken back in by the son she abandoned after all her other offspring had abandoned her.
Our Bible Now. Time to fill that sucker up with some Morgans, Colandreas, Pinolas, and Joyces.
This transmission logged byErisSaid on 7:57 PM
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