Genealogy With A Twist

This is a special blog entry written by my son for a genealogy project and I thought you all would enjoy it:

The year was 2077. A special presentation was about to begin by an elderly gentleman who walked into an old-fashioned diner on a beautiful evening overlooking Lake Washington near Seattle. Inside the diner, the tables were full with school-age children getting ready to listen to this special old man. They knew he was a great story teller and the children were eager to listen. With great anticipation, the man excitedly stated, “Welcome to the unique stories a friend of mine shared with me about his life. This friend is Elijah. Elijah’s stories were told to me by himself so I galloped all the way here to tell them to you today.” The children clapped loudly for the action to begin.

Elijah’s stories began with a European ancestor on his father’s side. This man was Baron VanDorstan who was ruled by a German King almost 250 years ago. It has been told that the king became very furious with the baron because the baron felt the poor people were being taxed to heavily and he refused to collect the money for the king. The King therefore ordered Baron VanDorstan’s execution. The execution never happened because the baron escaped on a boat disguised as a homeless man. He eventually emigrated to America! WHEW! That was a close one.

As the elderly man shifted to the next ancestor in Elijah’s life, the children listened intently. The next story was about Elijah’s great-grandfather who was a semi-pro boxer in Chicago, Illinois.  His name was Alex.  Alex  had the opportunity to meet Babe Ruth, a pro baseball player, and he played catch with him.  Another interesting point about Elijah’s great grandfather was that he washed laundry for a living.  One of his customers was the infamous criminal, Al Capone!

As the time was passing, the elderly gentleman knew the children would want to know his identity, but he explained he wanted to stay a mystery until the end of his story telling.  The children grew with excitement, but agreed to wait.  It was at this point the man began sharing about another ancestor who was Elijah’s great grandmother on his mother’s side.  When Elijah’s grandmother was born in Berlin, Germany in 1939, Elijah’s great grandmother with her grandmother were forced to flee because of World War II and all the bombing going on during the war.  They walked all the way to the southern part of Germany to find  safety.  When they travelled they worried they would be caught by the Russians, but thankfully they were not captured and they did make it to their destination several months later.  Elijah would not be here today if they had been killed.

Another ancestor on Elijah’s mother’s side was great, great, great uncle Senator Kenneth Douglas McKellar.  Senator McKellar was born in Dallas County, Alabama in 1869.  He later moved to Tennessee where he became one of the most powerful politicians during the 1920’s-1940’s.  He assisted President Franklin D. Roosevelt in getting the money to build the atomic bomb!

As the evening was coming to a close, the elderly story teller paused to capture the moment in his mind of all the children looking at him admiringly.  The time had come to tell the children the truth about his identity.  He softly stated he was indeed Elijah and all the stories were about his own family.  The kids clapped loudly with this news, although they were flabbergasted.  It was a great night for all.

PLEASE note extra information/photos in regards to Elijah’s genealogy story above:

Babe Ruth  This photo was given to your blogger of Babe Ruth about 30 years ago.  I have treasured it.  This story my son wrote refers to the Babe whom his great grandpa met.

 

This photo depicts your blogger’s Oma and Mother. This story speaks of my mother and grandmother’s escape from WWII bombing.

It Took 78 Years, But Siblings Meet For First Time!

Awhile ago I shared a heartwarming story about my WWII VET step-dad Roy and his celebration of his 90th birthday ( http://wp.me/p2rYD1-o8 ). Roy grew up very poor and his parents divorced while he was a boy. Roy never knew when his real dad had passed away. One day he asked me if I could find this information out because of the release of the 1940 census. I was able to give Roy his father’s death date and burial location, but the biggest surprise was that we found out he had a half-brother, and a half-sister he did not know about. When you think you have heard it all life throws you a few new curve balls! We were fortunate to contact them both and plans were made for a reunion.
This reunion finally took place. Roy greeted his new found family today at his home with my mom. It was a joyous occasion . Seven family members came to meet Roy. Since this reunion occurred in Alabama , I was unable to attend, but I did receive a phone call from them thanking me for making their reunion possible. Below is a photo of Roy in the middle who is 90, George- 78, and June – 72. The second photo is Roy working with Governor George Wallace. The third photo is Roy during WW II and the fourth photo is Roy with my mother, sister, and her husband. Life never ceases to amaze me!

Captured By Your Presence

Dedicated To My Sons:

In a yearning desire to bring my happy and sentimental past to life again, my family traveled with me to my childhood world of Hawaii for my 50th birthday. Such nostalgia is easily brought back to my inner being as my sons experienced my old life. They too were “plunged” into instant gratification of a world they may have never known if not for my insistence to vacation there.

It is with wonder bringing dreams come true for me to be with my kids in Hawaii. Living in Hawaii for four years as a young person with my own parents was the epitome of pure joy. How can you describe something to someone else unless they experienced it themselves?

Immersing my life’s past to my children’s’ present time in Hawaii makes for a true experience now merged forever.

Showing a whole new world to them is like painting on canvas. The artist’s strokes begin with a lone girl enjoying the sand on the beach. As the artist’s rendition begins to evolve, two other figures are captured in the drawing. They are my own boys on each side of me laughing with love that comes through with each stroke of the artist’s handiwork.

This life can only get better as merging a past with its present brings on amazing memories into the future.

Wild Walls

Walls are a part of our lives in one way or another. There are the walls of your home and then there are the invisible walls people put up to close off the world. Both have the same distinction to protect a person from intruders.
When I was 14 years old, there was an enclosed tunnel made out of cement that I had to walk through everyday to get to school. The typical teenage writing was on it’s walls with some girl writing her undying love for some guy. It was a mystery to me that someone would want to be writing about love on a cold, damp wild wall. Yet here I was captured each day by its graffiti. There was no way to walk around it. It was the only way to school.
Reminded by my conscience that writing on a wall is destroying someone’s property, I never engaged in this activity. I did not want to wrangle with words that someone else would read anyway. It seemed pointless and leads to someone reading useless crap. Yet I wanted to write something, but not empty chatter as was the case with 90% of what was written on those stone walls.
One particular day I stopped as I was exiting the tunnel and said to the walls, “Give me 14 more years and I will show you something!” I then turned away from that tunnel to never walk through it again. It was my last day of junior high school.
As I have aged my childhood now holds some sacred truths. I learned that writing is good even if it is graffiti. Here I was a lonely girl holding on so long ago to those walls. They became a part of me without even understanding their impact. Every 14 years in fact I have taken stock of what I could show those walls.

Local newspaper clipping from my teenage years playing softball. Childhood memories are so important to who we become later in life.

Journey

My journey over the past two years reminds me that life is full of variety. As I reflect on life’s travels, we know they can be emotional, tragic, comic, or perhaps a blend of them all. The unending thought in my mind is that the journey means nothing if we don’t share in it together. I realized for quite some time and after several folks in my life affirmed this with me that perhaps my writing could be of benefit to others. If it was not, I speculated it would be good for my family. The key is that we exist to provide an outlet to raise our shared consciousness. While you are reading , my hope is that you would take time to think over my experiences and come to a point in your life to delve deeper in your own.
One thought crossed my mind that what I write or have written about would remind you of yourself and relationships you have with your partner, children, friends, and any other person in your life. I am intentionally wanting to be thought-provoking even if at times it is bittersweet. Perhaps you may be even relieved you are reading about my life and not your own! Yes. That did cross my mind.
As a mother of a grown autistic son who is truly beautiful , I would not wish this life on another. Luke is the most amazing son a mother could ever ask for, but to watch his suffering at times is incalculable. Yesterday we took him to his best friend’s viewing and funeral who just so happened to be autistic too. Luke’s time saying goodbye to Isaiah was truly poetic as he knelt in the casket and whispered gently in his friend’s ear goodbye.
It was during the funeral that I thought Luke would not be able to hold it together, but he did. As we approached Isaiah’s mom, Luke spoke to his mom and said what little he knew to say, “Isaiah.” After a few seconds he than said to her, “Sad”. Isaiah’s mom quietly allowed Luke to speak and reminded him if Isaiah was here, he would want them to laugh. When she said that they both laughed loudly together. It was a moment of reprieve for a grieving mother and Isaiah’s best friend.
Today I thank Luke and Isaiah for showing the true meaning of friendship.

I Did It My Way

Photo taken of the Cascade Mountains reveals the majesty of our world around us.

I am not into reblogging, but this one from a peer of mine who is speaking from her experiences with the dying just about choked me up beyond words. She interviewed the dying and asked what regrets they had in their lives. As a cancer survivor on more than one occasion, I truly get this list. Most with good health will not, but you do have a chance to. Review this now and see what you can do to change your ways:
http://www.alternet.org/5-top-regrets-people-have-end-their-lives

The Letter Part 2

After Roy retired from the military, he became the Director of Veteran Affairs under Governor George Wallace of Alabama

My teenage son wrote the following post in honor of his grandpa by describing what this picture meant to him.

Roy and his cousin Melda meeting for the first time.

Today we are celebrating my step dad Roy’s 90th birthday. He was a WWII VET and a POW in STALAG 17. I shared briefly his story yesterday and so many of you commented and sent Roy birthday wishes that he asked me to thank each and every one of you for your kind words. Here is a link if you are interested in seeing that story and some of the most powerful comments and even poems I have ever seen: https://alesiablogs.wordpress.com/2013/01/17/the-letter/ .

Today I thought appropriate to put together a collage of photos of Roy.

Please Let Me Introduce You To Luke.

Luke is a handsome young man.  Luke is so friendly.  Luke is 19 years old and has autism.  Luke can be violent.  Luke has bipolar. Luke loves his mother.  Luke has hurt his mother physically.  Luke says he is sorry.   Luke loves disney movies.  Luke loves.  Luke’s mother is Alesia.

I hope I can write more about Luke. I have been asked to share of my almost 20 years of wisdom. However, it makes me cry to write about him.  He lives at home with me, my husband, and our youngest son Elijah.  I hope I can tell you stories about him soon.  This is a beginning. Photos taken mostly by me or my husband with a Sony Digital or Panasonic DMC-ZR1 unless otherwise noted:

Luke did not learn to walk until he was past three years old. Here I am taking him to one of his many therapy appointments. Besides Autism, he had Hypotonia.

Luke at school working with his speech therapist this day.

Luke at his special daycare program. He was kicked out for his behavior after a couple of years. You can’t tell from this photo!

Luke  on one of his last vacations he could take since being diagnosed with Bipolar. We flew to Hawaii on this trip. We hope to fly again, but we are always worried we will get kicked off!

Luke has carried this Alligator around with him for years. Thank God Toys R Us still makes them. Luke is getting his head rubbed by my husband. It soothes him.

Luke at his High School. He was in a contained learning center. Alittle over the shoulder action in this photo.

Good Times!

High School graduate photos we had taken by a very patient photographer named Tera!