Vintage Boxing Day

See Sing Along

When my Grandfather Paul J. Lindsey died in 1983, a lot of his belongings went into storage until my mother died in 2020. That's when I re - discovered his nostalgic stash of Christmas memorabilia (some posted earlier):

Above: from his last working box of blank cards,
accompanied by return labels and stickers.
I love and admire how committed he was to
the tradition of mailing Christmas cards, even
15 years after his wife -- my Grandma Rovilla -- died.

Below: a card from his nephew Hugh Victor Lindsey
(my first cousin, once removed), postmarked 1977.
Vic was the son of Paul's eldest brother
James Sankey Lindsey, Jr. and wife Hortense.

Jim & Horty at Multnomah Falls, 1942
As my second cousin Rob said:

"That's absolutely Grandma and Grandpa!
They don't make grandparents
that look like that anymore, do they!
They could have stepped right out of
the Andy Griffith Show."

*********************

Similar story from a friend:

"When we were clearing out our family home in Queens, I came across boxes in the attic filled with all sorts of things from my childhood, including stacks of greeting cards. The images shown here are from Christmas cards I received from elementary school friends and family. They are from the late 1960s /early-mid 1970s. I’ll use them for something, someday: gift tags, ornaments, etc. For now, enjoy."

JSL's Side of the Story

James Sankey Lindsey

On the back of the
above photograph is written:

Born on this day ~ May 5, 1846 ~ 164 years ago
~ Happy 164th Birthday Great Grandfather ~
After a turbulent life, may you
Rest In Peace ~ April 10, 1921

Dayton National Cemetery

***************

From The Guest Book
By Sarah Blake

Below the pattern, the great sweeping pages, the wars drummed out and fought, are the questions: What if? What happened? How? Beware the vast magisterial history unrolling a carpet across time: this followed by this, leading inevitably to that. The march of history, the teleology. Nothing is inevitable; everything is tangential, particular -- human.

. . . History is in us. Our history lives in us. Lean low and listen, that's your job. Not that they had lived . . . But how. . . .

History is sometimes made by heroes, but is also always made by us. We, the people, who stumble around, who block or help the hero out of loyalty, stubbornness, faith, or fear. . . . The people at the edge of the photographs. The people watching. The crowd. You. . . .

So know yourselves first . . . Then look back and account. (44)

. . . What the study of history had taught her, clearly, after years and years, was that she might pull up the single moments from the darkness where they lay centuries old, she might point to a spot in time, a line in a diary, the particular shredding of a blue ribbon used to tie a shoe, she might string these together and say, Here is what happened.

And history would sit back on her heels and laugh and laugh. 46)

P.S. My Great Grandmother
Sarah Elisabeth Hartman Lindsey

Two Fine Families

In honor of my grandmother's 127th birthday, here is a formal studio portrait of her with her family in 1911, when she was 20 years old:

The Heidemanns

Seated are my great - grandparents:
William Michael Heideman (1855 - 1931)
& Anna Mary Miller (1862 - 1923)
with their children, standing, L to R:
my Grandmother Mary Rovilla Heideman (1891 - 1966)
and her brothers Melville Miller (1896 - 1966) & Harry Louis (1887 - 1940)

16 years later she would marry my grandfather, in 1927

Here he is with his family in 1913, when he was 18 years old:

The Lindseys

Seated are my great - grandparents:
James Sankey Lindsey (1846 - 1921)
& Sarah Elisabeth Hartman (1856 - 1937)

Sitting by father: Wayne Wallace (1889 - 1951)
Sitting by mother: Samuel Gordon (1893 - 1918)
Standing, L to R: Lillian Virginia (1897 - 1980), Gail Hartman (1899 - 1946),
my Grandfather Paul Jones Lindsey (1895 - 1983)
Bertha Mabel (1880 - 1968), James Sankey, Jr. (1883 - 1965),
Edna Beatrice (1891 - 1922)

*********************

For more family history, see my recent posts:

"Talking About the Homestead"
&
"Thus Far Our Experience"
&
"Getting Almost Homesick"

@The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker
A literary blog of connection & coincidence;
custom & ceremony

Veterans Eve

I have spent the last few weeks looking through stacks of family papers that have come into my possession over the years, including all the army pension documents of my great - grandfather James Sankey Lindsey (1846 - 1921) who came home sick from the Civil War with untreated measles (contracted by his entire division: Company B, 185th Ohio Infantry) from which he never fully recovered (chronic kidney & digestive ailments).

He spent the remainder of his life petitioning the government for a decent pension in return for his service to the Union at a very young age and was met with resistance at every turn. Shameful! The funds were finally granted in 1912, nine years before his death, in the amount of $15.50 per month (would be approx $373 per month in today's economy). Imagine how much taxpayer $$ was wasted in repeatedly denying his rightful claim instead of granting it outright! And how many people were employed in the wasteful task of telling him -- and doubtless thousands of others Veterans -- "No" instead of "Yes."

That's what I'm going to be thinking about this year on Veterans Day.

Civil War Veteran James Sankey Lindsey & Family ~ c. 1911

My maternal grandfather -- Paul Jones Lindsey -- is the tall,
handsome brother in the middle of the back row.
His brother -- Samuel Gordon Lindsey -- sitting on the front,
right-hand side, beside his mother -- was killed in France in WW I.

Sam, with his mother, my great - grandmother
Sarah Elisabeth Hartman Lindsey ~ c. 1916


My grandfather
Paul Jones Lindsey ~ 1922

Dalton Gang

Day After Thanksgiving, 2007
One of my favorite childhood activities was begging my Grandpa Lindsey to take me to The Dalton Museum in Coffeyville, Kansas. A few Thanksgivings ago, I told my sons -- who had never been there -- that they had to see this place before they grew up and went away to college, because it had been such an important and well-loved part of my childhood. So, here we are in the picture!

Remember at the beginning of a A Child's Christmas in Wales when Dylan Thomas, recalling a big snowfall from years before, says that he "can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when [he] was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when [he] was six"? Well, for a long time I had a similar situation with my family's personal Dalton legend.

I could never quite remember if one of my grandfather's brothers gave one of the Dalton brothers a haircut or if one of the Dalton brothers gave one of my grandfather's brothers a haircut. I knew it was something along those lines. My mother clarified for me: it was her father's brother Wayne who gave Emmett a few shaves after Emmett got out of prison. My mom tells me that Wayne had barber shops in Elgin, Peru, Chautauqua, and Havana (all in Kansas). She's not sure in which location Emmett and Wayne met, but it's still a good story. Maybe not as exciting as my grand-dad and his brothers being part of an actual gang, but I can still say that my great-uncle was Emmett Dalton's barber!

To refresh your memory of the notorious, ill-fated Dalton Gang, try reading Desperadoes by Ron Hansen (American novelist, essayist, and professor; b 1947). Hansen's approach is so straightforward, almost not fiction, but he does seem to get Emmett's voice right, and it's gratifying to know that no stone has been left unturned. My favorite passage has to be the comment that Hansen gives to Emmett when he gets out of prison and rides the train across the country in 1906: "Seems like everywhere you look it's the twentieth century."

You might also enjoy my blog post from last summer, "End of Summer Sounds." Though you may not envision an immediate connection between the Dalton brothers and the cicada, it's there! It just takes someone like me to show the way!

P.S. Paul & Wayne's eldest brother
James Sankey Lindsey
Uncle Jim & Aunt Horty
(Lucy Hortense Ryden)