Week 8: The Little Ones with Aunt Agnes

I’ve decided to stick with the theme of favorite photos for a while. This is another image I discovered tucked into one of my grandmother’s scrapbooks, those quiet time capsules that somehow hold a whole world of unspoken love stories. 

This coming Friday, February 27 would have been my Grandma Clare's 97th birthday. She passed in 2023. My grandma Clare is the little girl on the left with the chunky bangs. I’d recognize that face anywhere. I had the very same haircut for half of my life, which makes this photo feel even more personal, like a tiny echo of the past across generations. I’m guessing my grandmother was about three years old when this photo was taken.

On the back of the photo, someone wrote “Aunt Agnes & Claire.” I know for certain my grandmother didn’t label it herself because whoever did misspelled her name. It’s Clare, with no “i.” Which is ironic, considering she was named after St. Clare, the patron saint of eyes. Yet no “i”s in Clare. Go figure.

I’m not entirely sure who the baby or the young boy are. If I had to guess, the baby might be my grandmother’s younger brother, Richard Joseph Henry (March 19, 1932 – July 26, 1998). Nanny had just turned three when Richie was born. If that’s the case, then the little boy could be her older brother, Robert Victor Henry (October 21, 1925 – April 30, 2011). Maybe. Although I’m less confident about because the boy doesn’t quite look six years old to me, which is how old Bobby would have been in 1932.

As for Aunt Agnes, she was my grandmother’s maternal aunt, Agnes Sauer (April 23, 1910 – October 4, 1973). She was 21 when Richie was born, turning 22 that year. She passed away shortly before I was born, at the age of 63. She never married and had no children of her own, but she was a deeply loved aunt. My grandmother mentioned her from time to time, always fondly, and carries her name as her middle name, Clare Agnes Henry-Earle.

Of course, I’m making the huge assumption that the baby and the little boy are relatives. We tend to do that when looking at old family photos, don't we? As if neighbors, friends, or acquaintances couldn’t possibly have attended the same event. Still, I’m working through my family tree now, especially on my grandmother’s maternal side, to see if she had cousins close in age to her, since the little boy appears only slightly older than Nanny; maybe 4 or 5 years-old.

If anyone in the family recognizes these faces, remembers a story, or has seen this photo before in another album, I would love to hear from you. Even the smallest detail, a name, a hunch, a half-remembered anecdote, could help me place these children in our family story. If you recognize the faces or know more about Aunt Agnes, I’d be so grateful to learn from you.

Week 7: The Losees, The Henrys, & The Earles, Oh My.

After a recent post, my cousin Tom asked how my great grandmother Ethel Mae Losee-Earle (February 14, 1896 - May 27, 1960) was connected to his grandpa. I frequently reference this photo when explain the connection between the Losee and the Earle families and the event that spurred my love of genealogy.

This is a photo from my grandma's brother Richie's wedding on April 12, 1953. It actually sits in my office. It shows Richie and his wife Jeannette surrounded by all of Richie's five siblings, their spouses, and his mother Anna Marie Sauer-Henry.

From Left to Right (seated): Regina Dorothy "Jean" Henry-Drew, Anna Marie "Anne" Henry-Cramer, Anna Marie Sauer-Henry, Clare Agnes Henry-Earle, Josephine Dolores Doerflinger-Henry. Standing: James Aloysius "Jimmy" Drew, William Charles "Bill" Cramer, Robert Victor "Bobby" Henry, Richard Joseph "Richie" Henry, Jeannette Alice Losee-Henry, Edwin Maynard "Ed" Earle, Charles Aloysius "Charlie" Henry, Jr. 

Uncle Bobby was not yet married to my beautiful great aunt Margaret at this point. Although 6 years older than Richie, Bobby didn't marry until 3 years later in 1956.

How I Got Started in Genealogy Research 

When I was very young, my paternal grandparents, Clare Agnes Henry-Earle and Edwin Maynard Earle, took me to a family reunion for my grandpa Earle’s mother’s side, the Losees. The Losee family has deep roots on Long Island going back to the 1630s. While at the reunion my grandmother’s baby brother, Richie, showed up with his family. I was puzzled. He wasn’t a Losee. He was a Henry. 

My grandmother explained that her brother married my grandfather’s cousin, Jeannette Losee. That only raised more questions. Who had introduced who? I assumed someone had to have made introductions of either my grandparents to each other or Richie to Jeannette. My grandmother laughed and said that, actually, it wasn’t until Richard and Jeannette’s engagement party that my grandpa realized Jeannette was his cousin. “What?” He asked Jeannette her last name. When she answered “Losee,” he was stunned. That was his mother’s maiden name. 

I was stunned. Richard had unknowingly married his brother-in-law’s second cousin. But at the time of the reunion, no one could explain exactly how the two were connected. So I ended up having to draw a family tree just to visualize it. And I have not stopped since.

Left to Right (seated): Anna Marie Sauer-Henry, Clare Agnes Henry-Earle. (Standing): Richard Joseph "Richie" Henry, Jeannette Alice Losee-Henry, Edwin Maynard Earle. 

Above, Anna is the mother of Clare and Richie. Richie's wife Jeannette is second cousins to Ed. Second cousins means that they have the same great grandparents, that their parents (Standford Losee and Ethel Losee-Earle) were first cousins. Stan's father, Oliver Losee was the older brother of Ethel's father John Losee Jr.

I am hoping the little diagram below can help my cousins to see how the Losees connect to the Henrys and the Earles. I have made my best effort to anonymize the living.

Now to make matters more complex John Losee Jr. and Oliver Losee married two Smith sisters, Flora Smith-Losee and Melinda Smith-Losee, respectively. But I won't add to the chaos today.

52 Ancestors: Week 6: "Favorite Photo" - Ethel Losee at Roosevelt, 1914

It is so hard for me to pick a single favorite photo. I have so many. And having recently acquired my grandmother's scrapbooks, I have ones that I have never seen before now. Like this one:

This photo was laying in between pages of one of my grandmother's scrapbooks, apropos to nothing really. This is apparently a picture my grandmother acquired from her husband's side of the family because I clearly recognize my Grandpa Earle's mother on the right, Ethel Mae Losee-Earle (February14, 1896 - May 27, 1960). I didn't know Ethel, she passed before I was born and my father only has vague recollections of her even though he was about 10 1/2 when she passed. I know it is her though because I have seen other images of her.

I also know that it's Ethel, in part, due to the label on the back. It doesn't include her name but instead states "Taken July 4th / 1914 at Roosevelt." Ethel was born and raised not far from the house I live in now. The area was once known as Greenwich Point and is at the very north end of the town of Freeport. It is now known as Roosevelt, named after President Theodore Roosevelt (October 27, 1858 - January 6, 1919) in about 1902. The area is so close to the boarder of Freeport though, that sometimes events in her life there are listed as having taken place in Freeport.

I also know that here, she was Ethel Losee as she did not marry her husband Abram Thomas Earle until June 1915.

What I love about the photo is their outfits. 

The late Edwardian elegance of the period was beginning to relax just before World War I. After the war began in Europe on July 28, 1914 (the United States did not enter until April 6, 1917), clothing gradually became simpler and more practical, paving the way for the dramatic fashion changes we all envision of the 1920s; low waistlines, higher hems, fringe, etc.

Here the women are still wearing the typically high necklines that were standard for daytime and the raised waistlines. Even though it is summer, their sleeves are relatively long and their shirts feature layers of lace, ruffles, pintucks, and lots of buttons. Hats were still pretty typical of everyday wear and it is hard to tell but Ethel's flat brim hat seems to feature flowers and there may have been a ribbon. As pretty as it is, I am glad this isn't the fashion of my time. I like the comfort of jeans and t-shirts.

I do not know who the two other women are in the photo. The young woman on the left could possibly be Ethel's only sister, Marion G. Losee-Childres (July 1900 - December 3, 1949), she looks about 14 years-old, but that is a uninformed guess on my part. I hope posting the image might result in a family member recognizing the other two women.

It's a favorite. I think going forward I might forego the weekly theme and just highlight favorite family photos.

52 Ancestors: Week 5: "A Breakthrough Moment" - Update on my search for Nanny's beach-going friends

Just an update on my search for the families of the young people pictured here. 

The young girl kneeling on the right is my grandmother, Clare Henry-Earle. This image was found in one of her scrapbooks. There were actually 2 copies of the image, one of which was labeled. It is so very helpful to label your photos. Label them. Actually, print photos and then label them. No one seems to print pictures anymore. They are all just on our phones. Anyway...

Two weeks ago I tracked down the children of the Santa Maria sisters. One of the kids, Jill, provided me with some information she found online for the unfound boys in that photo.

Through her details, I have now shared this picture with the family of Ed Peter. Thank you, Jill, Ed's daughter thanks you as well.

That leaves me just three more families to locate; those of Claude Arnaud, Joseph Willis, and Ed Heinlein.

Thus far everyone has been very grateful to see a picture of their parent or grandparent as a teen, young and having fun. 

52 Ancestors: Week 4: "A Theory in Progress" - Nanny at the Beach

I don't know if it is so much a theory, really, as it is a "Project in Progress."

In 2023, my paternal grandmother, Clare Henry-Earle, the last of my grandparents, passed away at the age of 94; we all called her Nanny. Two years later, in late 2025, my aunts have put my grandparents’ house on the market.

I believe my grandfather purchased the house shortly after returning from military service in WWII. He was honorably discharged on March 25, 1946. Do the math and that is about 80 years that the house has been in the possession of my family. 

The home, pictured below, was constructed in 1942 but I am not aware of anyone else owning the property between the time of its construction and my grandfather’s purchase. I think the Earles have always owned it.

That yellow sided house on the right? That is where my mother grew up.

Anyway, I tell you all this because the sale of the house came with quite a bit of unloading. When a family sells a house after eight decades, it isn’t just a move, it’s an excavation. Eighty years in one place accumulates a lot of life. During the clean-out, my uncle gave me several of my grandmother’s scrapbooks from her youth. 

Nanny promised me her family photos because of my love for family history, but when I opened the albums, I found something else unexpected. The pages were filled with faces I didn’t recognize, teenagers, mostly. Nanny’s high school friends. Some were labeled. Most were not. Although I wish I had gotten family photos, my first thought looking at these was simple: Someone out there, who knows these people, and would love to have these photos too, just as much as I do. 

So I started with the names I had found noted on the back of a few of the photos.

The first person I searched for was Dotty. 

Here is Dot hoisting my little grandmother up on her shoulder, clearly at the beach, and distinguishably Jones Beach circa 1945.

I found Dotty pretty quickly, alive and well, still on Long Island. Through social media, I connected with her children. Dotty is visually impaired and couldn’t help me identify most of the people in the photos, but she did point me to her younger brother, Ed.

My uncle and I had the great opportunity to sit down with Ed and his family and go through the albums together. As we turned the pages, Ed brought the photos to life, naming faces, sharing stories, and painting a picture of what it was like growing up in Uniondale in the 1940s. At one point, he even mentioned that my grandfather had planned to buy Ed’s childhood home, but circumstances were such that it just didn't pan out.

One person Ed spoke about at length was Billy from Chaminade, a local Catholic high school. Billy became my next mission.

Billy has passed away, but I was able to connect with his family. When I shared a photo, his daughter immediately said, “That’s Uncle Stan.” Uncle Stan wasn’t a biological uncle, but a beloved high school friend of her father’s.

That sent me back to the albums. I searched for more photos of Billy and Stan, and to my delight, there was a duplicate of the image and on the back it was labeled. “Uncle Stan” turned out to be the grandfather of one of my sister’s best friends, Jenny O.

We already knew that Nanny and Stan had gone to high school together. I think we learned that around the time that my sister got married; Jenny was one of my sister's bridesmaids. What I didn’t know was that Nanny and Stan had been part of the same close-knit circle of friends, pictured below.

My grandma is the girl kneeling on the right. Billy is the guy kneeling in the middle. Stan is the guy standing on the left with his arm around the girl on the far left.

Now if only I could find descendants of the others - Gloria Newton, Joan Santa Maria, Claude Arnaud, Joe Willis, Joyce Santa Maria, Ed Peter, and Ed Heinlein. I'm looking for you! Each would have been born in the late 1920s, early 1930s and gone to school in and around Hempstead, NY. 

I know that other people might flip past those faces that aren't "mine" but these aren’t just my grandmother’s lost memories, these were people who at one time mattered deeply to her. Now I feel responsible for these images. I want to share them with the people who would appreciate them. 

Maybe one day I will find each of their families and string them all back together. Maybe we could even gather and recreate the photo at the spot where these teenager's once stood at Jones Beach. I think that would be just as fun as the joy these kids seem to be sharing back in 1945.

52 Ancestors: Week 3: "What This Story Means to Me" - Charles Henry's Clock

In my last post, I mentioned the clock that once belonged to my great-grandfather, Charles Aloysius Henry (March 26, 1896 – June 14, 1949). It came out of his place of employment, John J. Lake & Sons, a paint manufacturer located at 88 Atlantic Avenue in Lynbrook, New York. The clock  has much more than sentimental value, it carries weight of my family history.

Long before this blog ever existed, I had an experience that gave the clock great significance.

A close friend of mine has a sister who is a medium. I’ve written about my experience with Mary once before, and I’ll say upfront: regardless of how you feel about psychics, and believe me, I understand the skepticism, this woman is no joke.

Until I sat down with Mary, I had never had a reading. What she said to me that day was extraordinary. She spoke about things no one outside my family could have possibly known, details that were deeply personal and rooted in my family’s history. And yes, I’m fully aware that nearly everyone who’s impressed by a psychic says the same thing: She told me things no one else could have known. I get how that sounds.

At one point in the reading, though, she paused and broke from the stream of the conversation said, “Who has the clock?”

The clock?

I’m fairly certain I rolled my eyes—maybe not outwardly, but definitely in my head. I remember thinking, Everyone owns a damn clock. Out loud, I said, “I don’t know.”

She looked at me and replied calmly, confidently, “Yes, you do. I can hear it ticking. It's a pendulum clock."

"Oh," I said, "that could be my grandmother's clock."

She said, "But she doesn't have it. Who has the clock?"

"Oh, well, she gave it to my Uncle Allen."

"That should be your clock," Mary said.

I harrumphed. "Yeah, you tell Allen it's my clock."

Then she asked again, "Whose clock was it?"

"Ah, my grandma's."

"No," said Mary. "Whose was it before her?"

"Um, I think it was her father's."

And then she said the most incredible thing. She said, "I smell paint." 

She paused, as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. "Did he make paint?"

Not was he a painter.

Not did he paint.

Did he MAKE paint?

Um, yes, he freakin' made paint.

It wasn’t until after the reading that I asked my grandmother about the clock’s history. Quietly, almost offhandedly, she confirmed it had come out of John J. Lake & Sons, where her father worked making paint.

What has stayed with me wasn’t the shock of the accuracy of what Mary said, it was the feeling that objects, ordinary, unremarkable things, carry presence. Memory. Connection. Instead of a steady, ticking, that clock is a steady reminder that the people who came before us are never all that far away.

Clock from John J. Lake & Sons

Charles A. Henry painting his home in Uniondale.

52 Ancestors: Week 2: "A Life that Added Color" - Charles Aloysius Henry (March 26, 1896 - June 14, 1949)

This week's theme is supposed to be about a record that added color but after last week's post, my cousin Sean asked a few questions about our shared family history that made me think of my great grandpa Charles Aloysius Henry and his life and color. 

15 Fenimore Avenue, East Hempstead, Long Island, New York, was the address where my Henry great grandparents lived. It eventually became 15 Beck Street, Uniondale after the town came through and renamed some streets. There is still a Fennimore Avenue in Uniondale but it isn't the street my grandma grew up on. The Henrys lived on present-day Beck Street. According to my grandmother, that name was chosen because the oldest living person on the street at the time was Mrs. Beck. That change had to have occurred very close to 1950 because I see Mrs. Beck living at 24 Fenimore in the 1940 census but then in the 1950 census she at 24 Beck Street. However, in the 1950 census the Henry's address appears as 15 Fenimore. I now wonder if segments of the street were renamed at certain times. Hmm. I'm not sure but yes, Sean, 15 Beck Street (pictured below) was 15 Fenimore Ave.

My great grandfather Charles Henry built this house from a Sears Roebuck catalog kit. Some people leave behind oil paintings or framed photographs. Others leave clocks on living room walls, sturdy houses, and memories tinged, quite literally, with paint.

Charles Aloysius Henry was born on March 26, 1896, in Richmond Hill, Queens County, New York. He was the eldest child of Victor Henry (June 1874 – June 23, 1908) and Annette Hinch-Henry (February 22, 1868 – March 2, 1952), and from an early age, responsibility found him. Of the six children born into the Henry family, he was one of only three that survived to adulthood. 

• Charles Aloysius Henry (March 26, 1896 – June 14, 1949), my great grandfather
• Mary “Annie” Henry (December 8, 1897 – April 6, 1899)
• Jane Veronica Henry-Edsall (November 14, 1899 – May 19, 1982)
• Victor Henry III (July 10, 1902 – September 15, 1940)
• James Henry (June 24, 1904 – July 16, 1905)
• Robert Henry (February 7, 1906 – February 10, 1906)

Charles Henry circa 1900

Of my great grandparents, I think I look most like Charles.

At three years old, his parents buried his sister Mary "Annie" (she shows up with two names), and when Charles was 9 years-old, they buried two boys. When Charles was just twelve years old, in 1908, his father Victor committed a very scandalous murder-suicide. Overnight, Charles became more than the eldest son, he became the man of the house.  At 44, the family received a disturbing knock at the door at 15 Fenimore from local law enforcement informing them of the drowning of Charles's 38 year-old brother, Victor.

Anna and Charles in front of 15 Fenimore Ave, East Hempstead, winter 1944

During World War I, Charles served in the U.S. Army, and was stationed at Camp Gordon in Georgia. He never saw combat overseas. After the war, he returned to Queens and married Anna Marie Sauer (July 19, 1899 - May 8, 1986) on June 6, 1921 at the Gate of Heaven Roman Catholic Church in Ozone Park, Queens. Together, they began what would become a lively, busy household filled with six children, projects, and plans. A family of his own came with the need for stability and a place to put it all. In about 1945 he ordered the Sears catalog house pictured above, a prefabricated home that was shipped by railroad and then assembled by the buyer. 15 Fenimore was solid and practical, much like the man who raised it.

Richard Henry and Charles Henry in front of 15 Fenimore, Winter 1944

Anna Sauer-Henry fetching the mail. A clear shot of the house in the background, Winter 1944

You wouldn't know it today but property was large enough to support a small farm. There were vegetables, livestock, and, most memorably, goats and rabbits. Charles became president of both a goat club and a rabbit club, local organizations dedicated to self-sufficiency and health. Goat’s milk, the family believed, was superior to cow’s milk. Here is a photograph of my grandma Clare and her sister Jean grinning proudly as they hold the baby goats. 

Clare Henry-Earle and Regina "Jean" Henry-Drew with kids.

Professionally, Charles was a paint manufacturer. He rose to the rank of manager at John J. Lake & Sons, a company whose products quite literally coated the surfaces of everyday life. Paint is an odd thing when you think about it, it preserves, protects, and hides flaws. It seals wood against rot, brightens dull spaces, and gives old structures new life. The John J. Lake & Sons Company clock hung in my grandmother’s living room for decades, ticking away the hours long after Charles himself was gone. That clock still exists. It was passed down to my Uncle Allen, and is promised to be mine some day. I see it as a quiet relic of a man who spent his life making things endure.

WWII Draft Registration Card for Charles Henry, April 26, 1942

There is a cruel irony in the way Charles’s life ended. On June 14,1949, at just 53 years old, Charles died of peritoneal cancer, a rare cancer of the abdominal lining. His family believed the illness was linked to prolonged exposure to industrial paint chemicals at his job. The very materials that supported his family may have shortened his life. Charles died only months before the birth my father, his 5th grandchild.

He was buried in Holy Rood Cemetery in Westbury, New York; his work done, but his house still standing and his clock still ticking.