I couldn't let the day end without publishing something on my blog related to my maternal grandmother, Dina Licciardi Bellan. Today would have been her 100th birthday. She was born 4 September 1914 in Iselle, Italy, which is a small mountain town on the Italian-Swiss border. She immigrated to America with her parents and sister when she was about six years old. She served in the U.S. Coast Guard during WWII and married my grandfather, William Bellan, in 1947. They had two children. She was active in her church community and loved to cook and socialize. She passed away in 1997. Here is a photo of her with me as a baby, circa 1979. ©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder
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On this day in 1915, my paternal grandfather, Casimer John Kowalski, was born in Cleveland, Ohio to Polish immigrants Dominik and Wladyslawa ('Lottie') Kowalski. He was the youngest of four boys and the only member of his family born in America. He married Veronica Bodziony in Cleveland in 1939. Here is the 1940 U.S. Census in which they are listed (click for larger view): In 1940, Cas and Veronica are living at 6601 Hoppensack Ave on Cleveland's east side. They had remained in the same neighborhood in which they grew up; both of their parents are still living on E. 65th and E. 63rd Streets, just right around the corner from Hoppensack Ave. Here is what the home looked like about five years ago, according to Google Street View. The front siding and windows are obviously newer in make, but the house probably looks much like it did in 1940. (According to real estate data, it was built in 1900.) Some of the older wooden siding can be seen on the side where the newer siding has come off. Unfortunately, like this house, many houses in this area of the city have become run-down and/or abandoned. According to the census form, Cas and Veronica rented living space from the home's owners and residents, Frank and Anna Kontor, who were Polish immigrants. My grandfather was working as an inspector in a cast iron foundry. You can see, by glancing at the occupations of the other residents on the census form, that this was a very blue-collar, industry-dependent neighborhood. UPDATE (11 Dec 2014): Since August, Google has updated this particular street's Street View images. Because the photo above uses a widget to pull directly from the current database, it updates when the images update. As you can see, the home in which my grandparents lived has been torn down. I am so, so glad that I took screen shots of the previous images, and saved them on my hard drive. Here is what the house looked like: ©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder
Today, my husband's paternal grandparents, Walter and Naomi (Grilliot) Schroeder are celebrating their 70th wedding anniversary. They were married 26 Aug 1944 at Sacred Heart Catholic Church in McCartyville, Shelby County, Ohio. Both the bride and groom were 19 years old. The following is an account of the ceremony from the September 1st issue of The Minster Post: The matron of honor listed, Mrs. Lawrence Jones, was Norma Mary Schroeder, Walter's sister. The maid of honor was Naomi's sister Ruth, and Norma's husband was the best man. (Walter, who had acquired the nickname 'Chub,' didn't have any brothers.) Here is a photo; it's a copy of a copy, so the quality isn't great, but I love using the descriptions in the newspaper article to get a better mental image of the clothing and flowers. The weather nerd that I am, I went to the National Climatic Data Center online and looked up what the weather was like at the nearest observation location, which was just north of Sidney, Ohio. It looks like it was a relatively "cool" day for late August; The high temperature was 74F and the low temperature was all the way down to 44F, which makes me believe that it was likely mostly clear and sunny. There was no rain.
Walter and Naomi have lived in Sidney, Ohio during their entire marriage. They have six children; five girls and one boy. Grandpa is a WWII Army veteran and Grandma still makes the best cookies and enjoys crocheting blankets for her many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. They probably won't see this blog post, but I just wanted to let the world know that all of us in the family feel blessed to be a part of the family that they started 70 years ago. ©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder Frank and Bernadina (Hut) Schroeder were my husbands 3x great-grandparents. They were both German Catholic immigrants that came to America and settled in western Ohio in the mid-19th century. They met in the town of Minster. Frank, who also went by Franz, passed away in 1888 at the age of 66, and is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery in Shelby County, Ohio. Bernadina, whose full name was Joanna Bernadina, lived quite a while longer than her husband, and passed away in 1921 at the age of about 86. (Her birth year is listed as 1833 on her stone and in her obituary, but is listed as 1834 on her death certificate.) At the time of his death, Frank owned a farm in Turtle Creek Twp in Shelby County and the family attended nearby St. Patrick's Catholic Church. After Frank's death, Bernadina went to live with her son Joseph and his family, and, not long before her death, they moved to Minster, which is why she is buried in St. Augustine's Cemetery. (Click on images for larger views.) Photo Sources:
Frank Schroeder: FindAGrave.com, photographed by A. Chronicler Bernadina Schroeder: FindAGrave.com, photographed by Crashlan ©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder This past weekend, I attended the 2014 Midwestern Roots conference in Indianapolis, Indiana. It was a great experience and I learned so much about practical tools and methods that will surely help me in my family history research. When I have attended other seminars and small conferences in the past, I usually just kept a copy of the handouts/syllabus in front of me while jotting down extra notes here and there. During one conference, I had an PDF of the syllabus on my iPad and typed out and saved notes electronically. But THIS time, I didn't take any notes other than the small blurbs that I posted on Twitter as the presentations were happening. I didn't have any extra or pens papers in front of me. Like every other larger conference, the organizers encouraged us to tweet using a unique hashtag, which I did include in every one of my tweets. Let me tell you the benefits of this method of note-taking. First of all, I had no extra folders, papers, or pens in front of me; my space felt uncluttered, which was a nice feeling. Because I wasn't worried about copying down every single little thing, I LISTENED better to each presenter, and I'm pretty sure I retained MORE of their information. Twitter limits you to 140 total characters, and since part of every tweet was the hashtag and presenter's name, sometimes I only had around 120 characters to work with. I had to craft each "note" in the most succinct way possible, and that forced me to pull out only the most important elements of each point the presenter was trying to make. If I wanted to remember a particular source, website, or book that the presenter was talking about, I tweeted that, too. I tweeted a LOT. I'm not sure how most of my followers felt about that, but I had quite a few retweets, and at least one of my followers (who was not at the conference) said she was enjoying reading through the tweets. I liked the fact that I was sharing what I was learning with others, AND I was enjoying reading through other attendees' tweets who were in other sessions. (Don't you wish you could attend ALL the sessions?? I do.) After the conference ended, I went to my twitter account, searched the conference hashtag (#MWR2014), and ALL the tweets with that hashtag showed up (even from people who I did not follow or who did not follow me). Even better? You can SAVE the Twitter search in your Evernote, and have a complete record of everyone's tweets and photos from the conference in one easily-accessible location! Even if you don't think that this method of note-taking at conferences is right for you, you should still get a Twitter account (it's free), search the conference hashtag, and take advantage of the information that fellow colleagues are posting. ©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder
Today is the 224th birthday of the U.S. Coast Guard. The following was transcribed from an account written by my maternal grandmother, Dina Licciardi Bellan, regarding her decision to join the Coast Guard during WWII, and includes a little bit about what her time was like in basic training. "Patriotic fever engulfed me in 1943 as it did many other Americans. One day while walking home from work I spotted a large poster encouraging women to join the Coast Guard and become SPARS. "that's it" - I just knew what I wanted to do. I didnt know anyone in the Coast Guard and wasn't even sure what else they did besides guarding the coast as the name impled. The recruiters were glad to see me and after answering some pertinent questions I made an appointment for my physical which I had to cancel. Four months went by and I still had not rescheduled. Why? Because I didn't know how to break the news to my father. He was a very strict parent and I just knew he would not approve. Finally I gathered enough courage and broke the news to him. I nearly fell through the floor when he said "Good for you." In July 1943 I boarded the train at the Terminal* bound for Palm Beach Florida where I was to train. Florida in July is hardly anyone's dream of heaven! We arrived with our heavy suitcases grimy and sweaty at the beautiful Biltmore Hotel. We had assumed that the Coast Guardsmen standing at the curb would assist us with our luggage. Instead with arms folded they just glared at us. One laughingly informed us that since we were to replace them for active duty we might as well start learning to act like one of the boys. The Biltmore a famous resort no longer resembled that prestigious hotel. All the furniture and carpeting was removed and the rooms for two were now rooms for 6. The heat was oppressive - no air conditioning at that time. We looked at each other and if it were possible I believe we would have all taken the next train home. Six girls getting ready for 6am muster was no small feat. I locked myself in the bathroom that first morning planning to shower. Angry knocks at the door brought home the realization that privacy was a thing of the past and that all bathroom activities were going to be shared! Adjustments were not easy, perhaps easier for me than some others. Many girls did not even know how to launder their clothes. Finally the strenuous 6 weeks of basic training were over and we anxiously awaited our assignments. I drew Norfolk Va. which didn't particularly appeal to me. One of my roommates from Minnesota desperately wanted to go there because her boyfriend was stationed there. The officer in charge gave her permission to switch with anyone willing. I decided it didn't matter to me so I switched. Her assignment was Miami Beach only 50 miles away! Although I was not happy about going there I never regretted it. I made great friends and enjoyed my work. However in 3 years that's as far as I got!" (*) Referring to Cleveland's Union Terminal train station. Click HERE to see some of my grandmother's photos from her time in the Coast Guard ©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder A couple of weeks ago, my son was spending his mornings at an art workshop at the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Across the street from the museum lies Indianapolis's Crown Hill Cemetery, so my daughter and I decided to explore it one day, after dropping him off. First of all, the cemetery, is HUGE: 555 acres, which makes it the third largest non-governmental cemetery in the United States. I downloaded their map onto my phone, because I wanted to see some of the more 'famous' graves before we had to go back to pick up my son. There is an actual Crown Hill at the cemetery, which is the highest point in the city of Indianapolis. I drove our car to the top of the hill, and that's where we began our adventure. At the top of that hill is buried James Whitcomb Riley, a nationally-recognized Indiana-born author and poet, known especially for his children's literature. Riley's name is an everyday word to those of us living in the Indy area; the Children's Hospital is named after him, as is the Riley Children's Foundation, which funds not only the hospital, but camps and other programs dedicated to the health and well-being of children. Even having known about Riley's legacy in the city of Indianapolis, I still was still emotionally touched when we walked up to his grave site. Underneath beautiful classical columns lay his stone and this plaque. I gave my daughter some coins to place on his grave. She sat next to a life-size statue of a child reading before we continued our adventure walking around the cemetery. James Whitcomb Riley is not part of my family tree, but I enjoyed this visit to his grave just as much as I do when I visit family members' graves. Sometimes we genealogists are so focused on finding just OUR ancestors that we don't realize there are so many amazing stories and amazing people to learn about outside of our families who have had great impacts on our lives and our communities.
©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder A photo of my mom with her only sibling, my Uncle Bill, from December 1956. At the bottom, there is a scan of what my grandmother wrote on the back of the photo; she was pretty good at labeling photos, and I sure am grateful for that today. ©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder
On this day in 1796, a Connecticut Land Company surveying team arrived near the mouth of the Cuyahoga River on the southern banks of Lake Erie and founded Cleveland, Ohio. The city was named for General Moses Cleaveland, who was the leader of the group. If you follow my blog, or know me personally, then you know that I was born and grew up in the suburbs of Cleveland. My working-class (i.e. poor) great-grandparents emigrated from various parts of Europe between 1890 and 1920 and settled in Cleveland. ALL of my family's American history remains there, along with most of my close living relatives. I'm not there, and for someone who values family history so much, it's often hard to be away from the place I came from. Most people think fondly of the place in which they were raised, but Clevelanders have a unique pride that is truly difficult to explain to an outsider. Why do I personally take so much pride in a city? True, some of it has to do with ordinary nostalgia, but I've come to realize that most of my pride is far deeper than that. And it has been through my family history research that I have come to this realization: my family, along with hundreds of others like mine, literally built this city. My great-grandfathers sacrificed hours upon years of their lives in foundries and steel mills, creating the materials and tools that were building not just Cleveland, but cities and infrastructure all over America. And maybe I've always known that my ancestors "worked in the mills," but actually seeing "Steel Mills" under the 'Industry' section of my great-grandfather's 1920 census form and "Ferro Machine Foundry" listed as employer on my other great-grandfather's WWI draft card - it makes my pride for my family AND my city grow exponentially. Cleveland saw an immense population growth during the 30-year span when my immigrant ancestors arrived; the population grew from about 260,000 to 796,000 between 1890 and 1920, when the city was the 5th largest in the U.S. Even though they didn't have a lot of money, my grandparents came of age in a thriving city full of growth and opportunity. By contrast, I grew up in a Cleveland that was constantly being joked about, a Cleveland that was losing jobs, losing people, losing hope. We took the jokes in stride, and when people teased us about our river catching on fire, we laughed it off, but inside we knew that that pollution, as horrible as it was, was our ancestors' livelihoods, and represented food on the tables and clothes on the backs of our working-class families. No, our sports teams never win anything, but, perhaps against better judgment, we never give up on them, and that is a quality that is in our blood. My ancestors never gave up, no matter what life threw at them. And if there is one thing in life I want my kids to learn, it is to never give up. I've thought of what my great-grandparents and grandparents would think of the Cleveland of today. They would be proud, and they would recognize some of the economic and social growth and excitement that is going on there today. My great-grandparents came to Cleveland to reinvent themselves, to improve their lives, to build a city that is better for their children. That's exactly what Cleveland is doing today. Here links to some websites that are great resources for Cleveland history: Encyclopedia of Cleveland History by Case Western Reserve University and the Western Reserve Historical Society The Cleveland Memory Project by Cleveland State University Libraries Cleveland Historical by the Center for Public History and Digital Humanities at Cleveland State University Cleveland, Ohio History by the Ohio History Connection ©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder I have recently been working on uploading to my family history website all of the baptism, marriage, and death records that I collected on my recent trip to Salt Lake City (SLC) a few months ago. One of the families that I spent a lot of time researching was that of Michael Bodziony, who was my paternal grandmother's father. According to his 1883 baptism record from the town of Świniarsko, Poland, his mother was named Sophia Golonka, son of Joseph Golonka and Anna Bawotek. (Aren't these Polish baptism records wonderful - names of the parents AND grandparents!) Through FamilySearch.org's online search engine, I was able to find an indexed record from the nearby town of Brzezna, Poland that was likely Sophia's baptism record. I confirmed that it WAS her baptism record when I was able actually look through the microfilm and found Sophia's marriage record to Michael's dad, Joseph Bodziony (also in Brzezna), in which her parents are also listed. Fortunately, the Golonka family had been in Brzezna for a few generations, so I was able to use the same microfilm to trace back that line to Sophia Golonka's grandparents, Thomas Golonka and Petronella Iwanszczonka (or Iwanska), who would be my 4x great-grandparents! Not bad considering that I started out my genealogy journey not even knowing who Michael's parents were! Here is the present day distribution of the surname Golonka in Poland today, according to Moikrewni.pl: According to that site, there are about 4,400 people in Poland today with the surname Golonka, so it's not terribly common. You can see that there is a heavy concentration of the name in southern Poland, in an area that was called Galicia when my great-grandfather was born. In fact, Nowy Sącz County, where both Świniarsko and Brzezna are both located, has the second-highest concentration of the name, behind the county of Limanowa, which is just to the west. 'Golonka' literally means 'knuckle' in Polish. The word is used to refer to the Polish dish of ham hocks, which technically aren't pig knuckles, but instead are the animal's ankles. In any case, my love of pork products can now be attributed to genetics - it's literally in my bloodlines. :-) A native Polish speaker also suggested to me that the name might carry the meaning of shaving or of being shaven. The Polish verb for 'shave' is golić, so the surname might have the same root. Family members, the link to the new and updated Golonka ancestor page is here. The link to Michael Bodziony's paternal Bodziony ancestors is here. I am still working on acquiring some additional records, so check back and let me know if you have any questions!
©2014, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder |
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