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Generations of Nomads

~ On the Trail of Family Faces, Places, and Stories Around the World

Generations of Nomads

Tag Archives: Family dogs

A 65th Anniversary

16 Tuesday Jun 2020

Posted by Generations of Nomads in People, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Family dogs, Goucher College, Hare, Johns Hopkins, Miller, Mills, Oliver, Stephenson, wedding, Wedding anniversary, Wellesley

Celia and Bill on June 16, 1955 in Wellesley, Massachusetts

A big, fancy-numbered anniversary. Today is the 65th anniversary of my parents’ wedding.

Celia Oliver and Bill Hare (born Stephenson) met in college in Baltimore in the early 1950s. She was a student at Goucher College and he was at Johns Hopkins University. My Mum was a year older than my Dad, graduating from college in 1954. Their wedding took place soon after his 1955 graduation from Hopkins when he was 21 and she was 22.

It was a small, simple wedding at the house my grandparents were renting on the campus of Dana Hall School on Grove Street in Wellesley, Massachusetts. My mother wore a dark suit with white piping around the collar. It’s the same suit she was wearing in photos of my Dad’s graduation from Hopkins earlier that month.

Present were their parents–Ken and Elsie (Mills) Oliver and Bob and Esther Jane (Miller) Hare from Maryland, with Bob’s mother, Fern, (Bob was actually my Dad’s step-father); Mum’s brother Peter Oliver and soon-to-be sister-in-law, Connie Gibbs; my grandfather’s brother, A. Douglas Oliver from Philadelphia with his wife, Dessa, and two young daughters, Anne and Susan; and finally, my great-uncle, Clark Stephenson, (brother of my dad’s father, Bill Stephenson) with his wife Louise. And must not forget my grandparents’ boxer, Judy, who was an important part of my childhood a few years later!

Top left my grandfather with his old blunderbuss pistol threatens my dad to “make an honest woman” out of his daughter! Top center, Mum’s cousins Anne and Susan Oliver, Dad’s grandmother, Fern Burnham, and my aunt, Connie. Top right, Susan Oliver, unknown minister, Uncle Doug and Aunt Dessa Oliver. And I’ve never asked my mother, but I wonder if my granny–an amazing baker–made the cake.

I love the intimacy of the gathering, the silliness of my Dad hamming it up for the camera while Mum beams, the image of my dignified grandfather being silly. The house isn’t one I ever knew, but everything they’re surrounded by–furniture, hangings, rugs–is embedded in my childhood memories. It was a day filled with joy and promise.

My parents had adventures together during their six short years of marriage before my father’s early death. They drove cross-country to spend a year living in Alaska. They spent a year working in Germany. They had four years as parents together in Baltimore. And a dog. For all that, I celebrate them and look back on that day 65 years ago with gratitude.

UPDATE: Oh, my, did I get this wrong! My next post sorts it all out…

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He Hung the Moon

28 Monday Oct 2019

Posted by Generations of Nomads in Family history

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Dover, Family dogs, Grandfather, Massachusetts, Oliver

Ken Oliver and me
Fall, 1958
Dover Massachusetts

Damdaddy was my Mum’s father. (I couldn’t say Grandaddy. It stuck.) Today would have been his 121st birthday and when this picture was taken, he was a little younger than I am now. He was a quiet, intensely supportive and loving presence in my life for my first eighteen years, and remains with me still.

We’re on the front lawn of my grandparents’ little Cape style house in the outskirts of Boston. You can just make out the roses twined around the split rail fence behind us. Damdaddy became quite the gardener during his twenty years in this house, and much of the front yard was a huge (at least to my small eyes) flower bed. I especially remember bleeding hearts and snap dragons. And the sweet tasting honeysuckle vine.

The whole neighborhood smelled of the pine trees that towered over us and the shrieking of blue jays was constant. The back yard was shaded by the large pines, and in the spring it was sprinkled with lilies of the valley and violets. There was a freestanding garage (my British grandfather always put the emphasis on the first syllable–GAR-age) and I still remember its smell too.

Inside was the smell of his wonderful cooking, the sound of the BBC news on the radio in the morning while the coffee perked in the Pyrex coffee pot. In the evening there was a crackling fire in the living room fireplace. During the weeks before Christmas, he and I would go down to the basement, where we’d brush racks of Granny’s fruitcakes with brandy and port–another smell I remember well.

And a dog. There was always a dog. During my childhood there was a succession of boxers–Judy, Penny, and Jenny. Devoted dog lovers, my grandparents had always been firm training their dogs, but as they aged, the rules relaxed. By the time Jenny came along, there were (heaven forbid!) even tidbits fed from the table!

The Lavins next door had a pasture with sheep and one cranky goat. Willy got loose every now and then and would end up in Damdaddy’s garden, munching on his flowers–never a good thing. I was a big fan.

My most precious childhood memories are of this man in this place, and my sensory memories here are powerful. And yes, he did hang the moon. Happy birthday, Damdaddy.

Kenneth Stuart Oliver (October 28, 1898-January 26, 1975)

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A Magpie During Family History Month–So Much to Do!

01 Tuesday Oct 2019

Posted by Generations of Nomads in Family history, Genealogy, People, Places, Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Ackworth School, Family dogs, Family History Month, Leon Kroll, Mills, Oliver, Organization, Sheely

Where to start in Family History Month? Maria (Sheely) Andrews (1843-1937)? Elsie (Mills) Oliver’s (1899-1993) portrait of Marie, Leon Kroll’s cook? Jeff, my Great Dane? Ackworth School, Yorkshire c. 1870s?

Oh, my! Family History Month is here, and I need to send my intentions out into the universe. I have eleven–count ’em–unfinished drafts of blog posts and lots of other family history projects in mid-stream. I’ve taken several research trips and have information to organize. Lots to do!

I’ve just commited to Janine Adams’s 30 x 30 challenge to spend 30 minutes on genealogy research every day this month. That should help, but I need to focus! I have to confess that I’m a bit of a magpie when it comes to family history projects. Oh, look! A shiny thing! Let me play with Ackworth School, Yorkshire records for awhile. Wait–there’s an Ozarks Genealogical Society?! Or maybe I should do a post about my 3rd great aunt and the Hawaiian Mission in the 19th century. This might be a good time to join the Caithness Family History Society and explore those Oliver family roots. Or maybe I’ll look at family paintings. A blog post about all the dogs in our family would be fun, too!

So how do you stay focused in your family research? And what will you do to celebrate Family History month? So many stories to find; so many stories to share!

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Mother’s Day

12 Sunday May 2019

Posted by Generations of Nomads in Genealogy, People

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Augusta, Baltimore, Coffeyville, Family dogs, Family history, Family photos, Genealogy, Hill, Kansas, Lebanon, Maryland, Miller, Mills, Mother's Day, Oliver, Owen, Salem, Sheely, Stephenson, Wright

Just a few images in the spirit of the day. Love these mothers, one and all!

Mum and me heading home from a family visit to Kansas. Always on an adventure! Tulsa Airport, 1963.
Grandma, Esther Jane (Miller) Stephenson (later Hare), with my dad, Bill. He was her only child. Kansas, 1934.
My Granny, proud mum, Elsie (Mills) Oliver with my mum, Celia, at her Goucher College graduation, Towson, Maryland, 1954.
Great grandmother Alice (Sheely) Stephenson at her home with my toddler-sized Dad, Bill. My grandfather looked so much like her! Augusta, Kansas, about 1935.
One of my all-time favorite pictures–Stella Lee (Owen) Miller was the mother of my Grandma, Esther Jane. This image was taken before Grandma was born in 1914 with her sisters (left to right) Marjorie, Nell, and Thelma. Coffeyville, Kansas, ca. 1908.
Emily (Wright) Oliver, my Mum’s paternal grandmother, with a little twinkle in her eye, possibly because of the two dogs sitting next to her. Daniel and Emily Oliver Orphanage. Ras el M’etn, Lebanon, 1931.
My great grandmother, Mary (Hill) Mills, known to her family as Dear, standing behind (left to right) Elsie (my Granny), Audrey, Nicholas Snowden Hill (her father), Mary Carroll, and Jimmy. Baltimore, ca. 1909.
And my one and only mother more recently. Salem, Massachusetts, 2018.

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Forever 28

31 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by Generations of Nomads in People

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Dad, Family dogs, Family history, Great Dane, Stephenson

img_0263Today would have been my Dad’s 85th birthday. I wish I could write about our long years together, the joys we shared, his interests and accomplishments, but at 28 he died in an accident. I was four and a half. That’s not a lot of time to build memories of a parent, and I want to remember more than I do, but here are some random thoughts:

  • He had a goofy sense of humor and he and my mum laughed a lot together.
  • He was brilliant.
  • He’d always wanted a Great Dane, so my 4th birthday present was…a Great Dane.
  • He was a nomad like the rest of my family–born in Kansas, living in several states before going to high school and college in Maryland, on to Alaska and Germany.
  • His college best friend loved him so much that he dedicated a murder mystery to him 50 years after he died.
  • He liked The Weavers (me too).
  • I have his smile.

Happy birthday, Daddy. Love you.

image   image

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A quick happy birthday

23 Monday May 2016

Posted by Generations of Nomads in People

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Tags

Family dogs, Family history, Genealogy, Gloucester, Mills, Oliver

img_2626

Happy birthday to my lovely grandmother, Elsie (Mills) Oliver.

There was a news story last week about a woman in Italy, (I think), believed to be the last living person who was born in the 19th century. How can that be? Well…Granny was born on May 23, 1899. She would have been 117 today.

I took this photograph in about 1977 as my mother and I took her to lunch at a waterfront restaurant in Gloucester, Massachusetts. She must have just had her hair done–it looks just the way she liked it–and her lipstick was freshly applied. I know just how she smelled, too. Her favorite perfume was 4711 Eau de Cologne, which had a distinctive fresh smell that I always loved, and it still makes me think of her.

Granny was a talented painter, passionate lover of dogs (I got those genes), fabulous baker, voracious reader, and at her best had an almost giddy enthusiasm about the people she loved. 

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