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.

52 Ancestors: Week 1: "An Ancestor I Admire" - Annette "Annie" Hinch-Henry (February 22, 1868 - March 2, 1952)

I tried to do the 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks Challenge last year but the days got away from me. Instead I turned my attention to writing a series of essays on each of my direct ancestors back to, and including, my great-great grandparents. I then compiled those essays into a book to someday give to my nieces and nephew. 

I noticed that the further I went back in time the shorter the essays got. I didn't really have stories about my great-great grandparents as individuals, as opposed to my parents and grandparents who I knew and experienced things with in my life. 

So when I think about my ancestors and whom I admire most, I wonder what I really know about most of them. Do records really tell us much about a person's character? How much do  those documents really tell us about a person’s inner life, or the way they endured the events that shaped them?

That being said though, I have always thought my great-great grandmother's life story would make for a great movie, though. I've written about her before. I think Julia Roberts could play her in the movie. See the resemblance?

Annette "Annie" Hinch-Henry was born in Barnamelia, Ireland near Hackettstown, kind of close to where County Wicklow touches County Carlow.  She was born on February 22, 1868 to James Hinch (about 1816- January 29, 1886) and Jane Kavanaugh-Hinch (unknown - about 1875 in Ireland). 

James and Jane had six children: 

•     Jane Hinch (about 1859 –  unknown)
•     Hannah Hinch-Nugent (December 25,1859 – July 7, 1925)
•     Mary Hinch-Kehoe (May 10, 1864 – June 17, 1947)
•     Annette "Annie" Hinch-Henry (February 22, 1868 – March 2, 1952)
•     James Hinch (July 1, 1870 – about 1884)
•     Sarah Bridget Hinch-Stoothoff-Rhodes (June 25, 1873 – January 4, 1965).  

The Hinch family knew loss. Annie’s mother appears to have died around 1875, leaving those six children behind. Annie’s brother James, would never reach adulthood. Family lore said that young James drowned in a river. I didn't question it, but when my cousin Pete and I visited the National Archives in Dublin in 2018, the records told a much sadder story. The only death that fit was for a thirteen-year-old boy named James Hinch who didn't drown in a river but rather died in a workhouse from diphtheria on September 27, 1884. I think that is him but I am only confident that Annie left Ireland having already buried her mother and a brother.

Shortly after that boy's death, Annie’s moved across the sea. There is a passenger list that may record her arrival in New York on June 6, 1885, traveling with her father, James, and her younger sister Sarah aboard the HMS City of Chester into the Port of New York at Castle Garden. Their surname is indexed as “Hench,” and the only sibling listed is Sarah, not Annie’s older sisters, Jane and Hannah, which makes me a bit uncertain that this is them. Still, if it is them, Annie would have been seventeen when she stepped onto American soil at Castle Garden and sadly, only a few month later her father died on January 29, 1886. James Hinch is buried in St. Monica’s Cemetery in Jamaica, Queens, beside his brother Charles Hinch (about 1817 - January 24, 1895). Annie was not yet 18 years old when she buried her other parent.

Annie was 27 when she married Victor Henry II (June 1874 – June 23, 1908) on June 18, 1895 in New York. They had six children in their 13 years long marriage: 

• 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)

Only three of their children lived to adulthood, Mary died as a toddler and their two youngest sons died in infancy.

Then on June 23, 1908, Annie's life shattered publicly when her husband Victor committed a very scandalous murder-suicide involving Annie’s first cousin, Mary Hinch-Cassidy (March 1862 – June 23, 1908). The details are complicated, painful, and deeply entwined branches of the Hinch and Henry families. Annie was left a widow with young children, carrying a grief that was both intense and very publicly shameful and yet, she endured.

After everything she had lost, Annie continued to give. While her children were still young, Annie took in orphans. I recall my great uncle Bobby, Annie’s grandson, speaking about one orphan in particular; Eddie Reed (August 12, 1921 – December 7, 1937) who appears in the 1930 census in Annie’s house. Eddie died while in Annie’s care and the loss just devastated her. Apparently, she had taken Eddie to the doctor complaining of abdominal pains. They performed an appendectomy on November 19, 1937. He continued to complain of pain afterwards but the doctor didn’t believe Eddie, they thought he was faking his pain to avoid school. Days later on December 7, 1937 Eddie died at Jamaica Hospital. He was just 16.

I found Edward Reed’s death certificate at the New York City Municipal Archives; Queens Death Certificate, 1937, document #8434. His mother’s name may have been Catherine Reed; his father is unknown. Anna Henry is listed as his guardian and she is buried with him at St. John Cemetery in Middle Village, Queens, New York.

I suspect that Annie received a good deal of support from her family following the death of Victor; if not financially, at least emotionally. I had heard one story in which she had to put her children into an orphanage but fought to have them returned to her when she learned they weren't being fed well. I know her sons and daughter cared deeply for their mother in her later years as well, opening their homes to her again and again. In fact, in the 1950 U.S. Federal Census, Annie was living with her then recently widowed daughter-in-law, my great grandmother, Anna Marie Sauer-Henry (July 19, 1899 – May 8, 1986) in Uniondale, Long Island, New York at 15 Fenimore Avenue; the house my grandmother grew up in. When Annie passed on March 2, 1952, though, she was living with her daughter Jane in Pearl River, New Jersey.

I don't know her voice or her laugh. Did she laugh? She must have laughed. I don't know what else could have sustained her through so much loss, but I know she crossed an ocean; buried her parents, siblings, five of her six children, and her husband; she survived scandal; opened her home to foundlings with nowhere else to go; and was remembered with love by the people who did know her. For someone I never met, I admire her a great deal for her perseverance. 

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." But would it, Will? Would it really?

Sometimes a person in your family tree is just a name and dates; and yet somehow you develop an image of them in your mind's eye. Perhaps you have a location where they once lived, so you might have some context to develop the image, notions based on period dress and/or hairstyles. When you start to dig into the documents they left behind, vital records and census records add little to the picture really. Maybe their chosen profession tells you something about their character or gives you a glimpse at their day-to-day lifestyle. I often find myself wondering if certain ancestors looked like their descendants that I know, or even like me. When I stumble across an old family photo in another researcher’s collection, I find myself thinking, Yes, they do look like they could be related or, No, that doesn't look like an Earle. 

What truly brings an ancestor to life are the stories; the oral histories passed down through generations or written recollections, if any exist. Things like their obituary or newspaper articles in which they’re mentioned are really the gems. 

Names alone, though, carry meaning. It’s usually the first thing people learn about someone, and it shapes the way they’re perceived. A name can suggest character and color one's preception until a story is uncovered.

In my own tree I fell in love with the first name of my great-great-great grandmother, Olivine Page-Ethier. How lovely is that? Olivine. It is like Olivia but not nearly as common. It comes from the Latin word oliva, meaning olive, and thus links the name to the olive tree and its symbolism; a timeless emblem of peace and abundance.  Across the Mediterranean, the olive tree nourishes the body and thus its oil fuels daily life. Olivine also evokes the shimmering green mineral of the same name born of volcanic rock that since antiquity has been valued as an element of fine jewelry. It just gives vibes of quiet elegance, vitality, earthy-mother like beauty. I love it. And so I have this preconceived notion about what my 3rd great grandma Olivine must have looked like and been like. And then I found this...

The Daily Telegraph, Quebec, Canada, October 12, 1877

At noon yesterday a woman named Olivine Page, wife of Augustin Either, was arrested at her residence, No. 12, King street, charged by a young woman named Cedulie Rouleau, widow of Joseph Latour, of luring her into an infamous den. The complainant substantially testified that on Tuesday week she left Rapin’s hotel where she had just been discharged from service as a domestic servant, to look for work, but meeting the defendant, whom she was slightly acquainted with, standing at her house door she, in the course of a conversation informed her of the position of which she was placed. The woman Page thereupon pressed her to stay and have dinner, and afterwards appearing to feel the greatest interest in the unfortunate girl’s helpless condition, easily persuaded her to pass the night in her house. During that and the following night she was imprisoned in her room and made to comply with everything her hostess desired, men being introduced into her room each evening. Plaintiff further added that the accused took most of her clothes away and offered her no recompense whatever, treating her as an absolute slave. Liquor was also unlawfully sold to one of the frequenters of the place, defendant having no license. The prisoner, who conducted herself in the most composed manner possible, when these serious charges were being made, denied that such was the case. Detective Riché, who went yesterday to the place indicated to recover the clothes alleged to have been stolen from the young woman, described the place as a low shebeen, the occupants of which have been suspected of selling liquor on the sly for some time. The clothing had evidently been sold, as all he could find was a few rags. Strange to say the police could give no information about the place, and were altogether ignorant of the character it bore. The Recorder fined the defendant $5 including costs, in default $8, or one month’s imprisonment.

Huh?

Yeah, this doesn't sound elegant at all.

Apparently in 1877,  great-great-great grandma Olivine was running a seedy little tavern, that is what a shebeen is, and potentially a brothel. She was arrested there, accused of luring a recently unemployed servant into her home and keeping her as a prostitute. Not to mention she was illegally selling alcohol.  

Now this item below appeared in the Daily Witness on January 26, 1875, nearly three years earlier, under the heading City Items:

- A woman names Olivine Page was accused to-day by her son, Augustine Ethier, of loose, idle and disorderly conduct and was committed to jail till Wednesday for trial by the Police Magistrate.

Wow, Grandma Olivine. Just WOW.

This is in stark contrast to the character of her daughter, Malvina Ethier-Desjardins, my great-great grandmother. In the articles I found which mention Malvina, she is painted as a saintly mother in regard to her son's brush with the law. Malvina, who has a name which to me sounds pretty malificient and dark, resuced her son, Albert Gardner (a.k.a. Almond Desjardins) and his friend, James Kidney, from the New York City Protectory; a Catholic orphange and home for juvenline delinquents. 

Malvina's momma though, Olivine, woah.

. 

Home to Lupinfield Cottage

I am presently engrossed in teaching my summer course on genealogy research for pre-service librarians. It is a short course with a lot to cover so it is very overwhelming, not only for my student but also for me. While I have a little downtime today, while the students are digging into their family research, I want to share about my summer trip back to Twillingate, Newfoundland back in June.

This was my third visit to the tiny tourist town on the northeast shore of Newfoundland where my great grandfather, Abram Thomas Earle, was born on January 13, 1891. With the present day population of about 2100 people, tourism plays a big part in its economy, its claim to fame being that it is "The Iceberg Capital of the World." In spring and summer months, icebergs float past and lodge themselves in it craggy coastline.

My great grandpa Abe immigrated to the Unites States in May 1903 when he was just 12 years old; first by boat from St. John's, Newfoundland to Sydney, Nova Scotia, and then by train to Boston where he presumably was taken in by his maternal aunt, Jane Samms-Whynot (July 7, 1870 - April 19, 1959), and her family.

Abe's father, Abraham Earle (about 1849 - winter 1890), died at sea aboard a ship called The Rise and Go shortly before Abe was born. Then his mother, Sarah Samms-Earle (October 13, 1857 - March 20, 1899), remarried to James Bromley on September 15, 1894. Less than 5 years later, when Abe was just 8 years-old, his mother succumbed to tuberculosis. What Abe's life was like between the passing of his mom and his move to the U.S. is unknown to me.

When I made my second visit to Twillingate in June 2018 with my Uncle Thomas, we stayed in an AirBnB called Pumpkin House on Farmers Arm Road. According to my great grandfather's birth registration he was born on Farmers Arm and so at the time of booking our reservation at Pumpkin House I thought, "Well, this is probably as close I will get to the location where Abe was born. He probably knew who lived in this house and he probably played on this street."

The homeowners of Pumpkin House, Charlie and his mother Nancy, welcomed us like family. Charlie had just purchased another house on Farmers Arm Road, not far down the road. Below, Pumpkin House is circled in yellow and the "new" property is circled in red.

One morning, Charlie called Uncle Thomas and I down to his new property. Once there he rolled out his deed for us and there in the corner of it, it stated that the home had been the property of John and William J. Earle. 

John Earle (August 11, 1863 - May 8, 1913), a fisherman and shipbuilder, was Abe's much older first cousin; 28 years older. William John Earle (January 14, 1889 - September 9, 1959), a generation below Abe, was actually 2 years older than Abe, almost exactly to the day, and was the man responsible for building the addition on the back of that home which now contains the kitchen and dining room space.

Since our visit in 2018, Charlie and Nancy have renovated the Earle family home into another beautiful rental property now known as Lupinfield Cottage. During the years Charlie has shared with me, and through social media, the renovation progress and the many precious finds; markings on the walls, children's scrawling in cabinets, and a pocket watch he unearthed in the yard. 

On this visit to Twillingate with my Uncle Allen and Aunt Rita, we had the beautiful opportunity to stay in the home that was originally built by Cousin John Earle.

It is hard to put into words the profound feeling of walking on the very land where you know your ancestors once walked. For me there is a deep, indescribable emotion that rises in me. I often become suffused with an aching reverence and overwhelming connection to lives long gone, yet somehow still very present in the soil beneath my feet and the walls that surround me.

I didn't know Abe. He died about 7 months before I was born but I know Abe was there on Farmers Arm. I don't know if he ever stayed in his cousin John's home or what nearby structure he may have resided in, but he was there and now so was I. 

What Served as a Scandal Back Then

It's Women's History Month and I am preparing to do a genealogy presentation at a local public library in May for a Mother's Day celebration. It is about researching the women in our family trees. Often, due to the practice of women changing their surnames when they marry, our mothers' lines can prove to be really challenging. Once one abandons their maiden name, it can be hard to push those lines further back. 

The trick to being able to overcome the married name/maiden name obstacle is to research the men who surround that woman in her lifetime. For example, you find some male lodger in the home in a census record, he might be a brother-in-law to the male head of the household, or the wife's cousin of some ilk. Look into that guy.

I have plenty of examples from my own family tree research but I really wanted some more examples from newspapers. Newspapers often reveal a lot about a family. So I opened the website, New York State Historic Newspapers (https://nyshistoricnewspapers.org/) and started looking for articles about my male family members.

I threw in my great great grandfather's name, Abram Earle, into a search. I got 2 hits. Neither of which fit my interest. Then I thought, I'll try by his nickname; Abe Earle. 

The second of the five hits led to the front page of The Daily Review (Freeport, New York), October 29, 1923. Headline: "Police Break Up Crap Game"

Oh jeez. 

Now it's not the first time I have run into a record of a family member having a brush with the law but this is one I didn't expect. And really?? This made the front page??

POLICE BREAK UP CRAP GAME

Freeport, Oct. 29 - - Acting on complaint of an anonymous letter believed to have been written by a woman in which it states that her husband was losing money steadily at crap in an unused barn back of the Himmel Bakery on South Main street, Chief of Police Hartmann, heading a party of officers in plain clothes visited that place Sunday night about 7 p.m., and found seven gathered around a dilapidated pool table in the upstairs portion of the building.

The men gave their names as Gene Breen, 89 Archer street; Thomas Cullen, 3 Railroad avenue; Ray Rogers, Franklin Square; Joe Sousa, Hillside avenue; Larry Temple, Banks avenue, Rockville Centre; Abe Earle of Grenada avenue, Roosevelt and George Rich of South Main street.

The party of officers knocked at a door leading upstairs and when it was opened they went up with drawn guns. A one dollar bill and three dice were found in the room but nobody was playing. Blankets, etc., were hung to shut off the light from the street.

One of the men dove under the pool table but was quickly spotted. The men were taken to police headquarters and served with a summons to appear before Judge Albin N. Johnson Tuesday morning.

Breen stated that he was the one who had hired the building.

One dollar?!?!

Is this that big a secret? How did this make the front page? Must have been quiet times in the Village then.

In any case, I ran it past my dad and his brothers to see if anyone of them had heard about it or suspected Abe of being a gamble. Ooo big stakes.

The event took place years before my grandfather was born. They hadn't heard about it but stories unfolded about my grandfather's childhood and numerous accounts of his family fleeing their rental homes in the night due to their inability to pay the rent. Was it because his father Abe was a gambler? It's rumored his mother Ethel was a spendthrift, though. Could it be Abe wasn't losing money gambling but gambling to make money for other expenses incurred? 

To me it's just a reminder that sometimes family doesn't talk about stuff, not because they are hiding it, but simply because it isn't that big a deal.

52 Ancestors Challenge Week 7: Letters & Diaries - Six Months of a Newfoundland Missionary's Journal, from February to August, 1835

While exploring my Earle family line I came across someone on Ancestry.com who saved a page from a book as a profile picture for my 4th great grandfather, Reuben Samms (1799 - December 11, 1870). The page came from a book called "Outrageous Seas: Shipwreck and Survival in the Waters off Newfoundland, 1583-1893" by Rainer K. Baehre, published for Carleton University by McGill-Queen's University Press in Montreal, Quebec in 1999, which I have now purchased and added to my personal library.

Chapter 11 of the book discusses the journal of a missionary sent to Newfoundland, Edward Wix (1802-1866), and his encounters with residents of the island. His journal is a valuable document providing insight into the life of a missionary in the 17th century but also into the lives of early Newfoundland settlers and the challenges they endured in such a remote location. The actual primary resource, "Six Months of a Newfoundland Missionary's Journal, from February to August, 1835", or at least a transcription of the missionary's journal, is available online though AnglicanHistory.org (https://anglicanhistory.org/canada/nf/wix_six.html) and Internet Archive (https://archive.org/details/b29349746/page/148/mode/2up).

Baehre quotes from Wix's journal about his experience in the home of Reuben Samms and his wife Sarah. MY 4th great grandparents! The journal itself is much more detailed than the secondary source which distills the information about the Samms family members but indeed presents accurate quotes from the journal entries.

The entry for Tuesday, April 28, 1835 reads:

"Walked at six A.M., accompanied by my hostess and another person from Rencontre, upon the hard snow by some very mountainous hills, to Bay Chaleur, four miles. The French islands of St. Peter's, and Miquelon could be seen from the hills. At Bay Chaleur was the residence of Reuben and Sarah Samms, a poor but worthy couple."

That's my poor but worthy couple!! Wix goes on to write about the wreck of the William Ashton, and the work my family did to rescue it's passengers.

"The barque "William Ashton", of Newcastle, had struck on the rocks at Lance Cove, on her way from Dublin to Quebec, with sixty-three souls on board, at two, A.M., of August 9, 1830. Reuben and Sarah entertained fifteen of the crew and passengers in their present little dwelling, and each day supplied the remaining forty-eight persons with provisions in the tilt, which they built for shelter at Lance Cove, the scene of the wreck, three miles from Bay Chaleur. A captain John Stoyte, of the 24th Regiment, with his wife and her child and nurse were among those who were inmates of Reuben's house..."

Wix lends more detail about the character of Reuben. Then goes on to highlight the baptism of some of the Samms family members:

"...The conduct of Reuben Samms, contrasts well with the less creditable conduct of many upon this shore, as regards wrecks. Before the wreck of the "William Ashton", he had been instrumental with his brother, in saving persons at different times from five other wrecks. On one occasion, he had observed signs of a wreck and discovered footmarks upon the rugged shore, and tracked them several miles into the interior, where he found seven men from the "Mary", which belonged to Mr. Broom, the present senior magistrate of St. John's. The poor fellows had been three days and nights without food, and, but for his exertions in pursuing their tracks, must have perished. The simple description which he gave me of the joy which was depicted upon the haggard countenances of these starving and lost seamen, when they first caught sight of him in the interior, was most affecting, and reminded me of the experience of the lost sinner, when he first makes discovery of a Saviour!...

"When I had performed full service at Bay Chaleur, and baptized his four children, his wife humbly offered herself also for baptism, as did also his mother-in-law, who was sixty-two years of age, but had never before had an opportunity, though well read and instructed, and of pious conversation--of thus solemnly dedicating herself in this scriptural method to the service of CHRIST."

I was able to find that baptismal record on Ancestry which helped me to determine who the "mother-in-law" was. She was the 62 year-old Catherine Poole, listed as the widow of John Young and wife Thomas Samms.

So I am a little confused about Sarah Samms's maiden name. Sarah Samms, who according to Wix's journal was also baptized with her four children [Sarah Samms (age 8), Rueben Samms (5), Catherine Samms (3), and Marianne Samms (1)] and Catherine, does not appear in the register. 

If Catherine was Rueben's mother-in-law, that would make Catherine Sarah Samms's mother. Catherine, though, was also married to a Samms according to the register. Catherine's first husband was John Young and her second husband was Thomas Samms.

If Catherine is Sarah's mother, was Sarah's maiden name and married name both Samms?

Wouldn't be the first time that has happened in my family tree but I think the journal entry is  wrong. I think Catherine Poole-Samms was Sarah's mother-in-law, not Rueben's. I think Catherine was Reuben's mother. That would make more sense since a few lines above you can see an entry for Rueben's baptism on April 27, 1835, just the day before Catherine and Rueben's four children were baptized. The parents listed for Rueben are Thomas Samms and Catherine. You can also see on that page that Rev. Wix baptized Rueben's younger brother, Benjamin Samms, and his parents are also Thomas Samms and Catherine.

I am tremendously grateful to Edward Wix's account of his service, and to Rainer Baehre's gathering of stories regarding shipwrecks, as well as the individual who shared it on Ancestry, and countless unnamed caretakers of the original 1835 resource. God bless the stewards. 

Below is an image I found online of who may be Edward Wix.

 

 

Image from http://ngb.chebucto.org/Articles/wix01.shtml

52 Ancestors Challenge Week 4: Overlooked - Abe's Naturalization Papers

This year I have challenged myself to write brief biographies on 30 of my direct ancestors; my parents, grandparents, great grandparents, and great-great grandparents. In doing so it forces me to revisit my research on each of them, and the members of their extended family, their siblings, and those siblings' spouses, etc. Undoubtedly, this results in me reexamining records and looking at new Ancestry hints. Newly digitized records are being added to databases all the time. I can't always keep up with all the hints. I try to keep on top of the hints for my direct ancestors though, but those extended family members, well, it's a lot. In this process of writing, I am uncovering a lot of details that I overlooked. In some instances my discoveries have prompted me to order records I haven't seen. Such was the case for my great grandfather, Abram Thomas Earle (January 13, 1891 - November 18, 1973).

Abe passed before I was born. I had heard many stories about him from my dad and grandparents, though. From them I knew Abe had immigrated to the U.S. from what is now Newfoundland, Canada. At the time of his immigration Newfoundland was a British dominion. 

I have traveled to the town he grew up in, Twillingate. I can tell you the exact date I first visited there but I didn't know the exact date Abe arrived in the U.S., until now.

I knew he was here by 1915 when he married Ethel Mae Losee on June 5, 1915 in Freeport, Long Island, New York. I knew he came to the U.S. after his mother died. His mother Sarah Samms-Earle-Bromley died on March 20, 1899 of consumption, what we call tuberculosis, when Abe was just 8 years old. Then an orphan, I really don't know what Abe's life was like between his mother's death in 1899 and his marriage in 1915. I knew he had older sisters and there was this notion that those ladies took care of him, but it was all vague as to when, where, and who exactly. The dynamics of the family are lost to me, except for what I can glean from records.

In an effort to clarify details about his life and that of his sister, specifically his sister Susie, I order their naturalization papers. The papers included many of the details I was hoping for.

Abe naturalized on January 10, 1925 in the Supreme Court of Nassau County, New York. We just passed the 100th anniversary of his naturalization. His Declaration of Intent, filed on September 26, 1917, states that he worked in monotype (a printer), he was white with a fair complexion, 5'5", 142 pounds, brown haired, and blue eyed. At the time of the application he was living with his wife, Ethel, in Roosevelt, New York, a town adjacent to Freeport. All of which I knew based on other resources and family. But then it told me this: Abe emigrated to the United States from Twillingate by way of Sydney, Nova Scotia on or about May 31, 1903 via railroad to Boston, Massachusetts.

The Boston part I had suspected because I saw his sister, Susie, in the 1910 census living in Boston. Abe wasn't listed on that census but stories told of Susie taking care of Abe, maybe he was there in 1910. He was there in '03. 

It was the railroad part that got me. Train? I didn't see that coming. The Earles are a nautical people. Abe's father died at sea, as did his maternal grandfather. I incorrectly assumed Abe must have come by ship into Boston or Ellis Island. Nope. Train.

I have been to Nova Scotia. I haven't been to Sydney. The closest I got was probably St. Ann's, Nova Scotia back in 2017 while driving from Baddeck to Ingonish Beach. I stayed there a night before driving through Cape Breton Highlands National Park. St. Ann's is about a 37.6 miles (60 kilometers) west of Sydney. Nova Scotia is beautiful, as is Newfoundland.

I wonder what Abe thought of Boston and who took care of him there. He was only 12. Did he travel alone? Where was he living when he was back in Twillingate before his departure? When did he get to New York? I still don't have the clearest picture of his life between 1899 and 1915 but I do have a new bullet on the time line:

May 31, 1903 - emigrated from Newfoundland to Boston by way of Sydney, Nova Scotia via train.

52 Ancestors Challenge Week 3: Nickname - They Called my Grandpa Whitey

They called my grandpa Whitey.

Some nicknames are obvious derivatives of the person's name. My name is April. My close family members call me A. My brother-in-law Timothy, we call Tim. My niece Sofia, we call Sofie.

And then there are other nicknames that are descriptive, Skinny Vinnie, Fat Tony. 

But every once in a while there is a nickname that makes you wonder where that came from.

Everybody called him Whitey. The story is that it stemmed from his childhood when he had white hair, but he didn't have white hair when I knew him. So I kind of didn't get it. His hair was dark, maybe salt-and-pepperish but not white. Not really. 

I don't think I knew his real name until I was in my teens, and I think it was because he didn't like his first name, Clarence. I like it. I think its better than Clair for a man, which is now more commonly a woman's name but it really is a gender neutral name. Many noteworthy men were named Clair, or Claire. or Clare. Lots of well known Canadian hockey players, not at all a feminine bunch, have the name Claire. My other grandmother was named Clare. Maybe grandpa didn't like the soft, femininity associated with name Clare, even though he was Clarence. I don't know, I'm just speculating.

However, I have never found a genealogical record about him in which he is noted as Whitey. In records he is always Clarence. You kind of need to know the person's "real" name to find them in records.

A few years ago, my mother's cousin Anita shared with me this photo of my grandfather as a boy, maybe he's 3. It's not a clear photo. You can't see his face but look at that hair. It's as white as the sand he's playing with. Now I really do see why they called my grandpa Whitey.

52 Ancestors Challenge Week 2: Favorite Photo: Charles Henry circa 1899.

I did the Ancestors Challenge before, back in 2022. At that time I wrote about this favorite photo. To me "favorite" means that absolute top. You only have one favorite. Right? Maybe not. I do have many many photos I love. My office bookshelves are dominated by pictures, rather than books. So to pick another "favorite" photo is challenging for me.

I am not sure if I have shared this photo in my blog before but I cherish it:

That is my great grandfather, Charles Henry (26 March 1896 - 14 June 1949). He was born on March 26, 1896 in Woodhaven, Queens County, New York to Victor Henry and Annette Hinch-Henry. 

The physical photo was given to me by my grandmother's sister, my Great Aunt Ann Henry-Cramer. I am not sure when exactly but Aunt Ann has since past. 

I was so excited to receive such a precious heirloom. Charles looks as though he's only 2, maybe 3, perhaps 4 at most. It is not a dated image so I can only assume it was taken circa 1899, around the turn of the century.

So excited, I immediately share the image via FaceBook so that family members could see it. My father's cousin, Cousin Timmy took it upon himself to lovely restore it digitally. I shared his rendition above. The image below shows the physical photo I received on the left. Look at the beautiful work Tim did.

Amazing. Right?

I never knew Charles, which is not uncommon. Most people don't know a great grandparent. Sadly, though, my father didn't get to know this grandfather of his. Charles died 6 months before my dad was born. He died from a rare form of stomach cancer on June 14, 1949.

My grandmother was convinced he developed that cancer as a result of the work he did for a paint manufacturer. I mean they were still making paint with lead back in those days.

But in this image, he's just a baby with a whole life ahead of him, no thought of marrying and having children, no less grandchildren or great grandchildren. This was also years before the scandal of his father's murder/suicide. His father, Victor Henry, committed a murder/suicide on June 23, 1908. I write about that extensively.

But Charles, that little boy there has no idea of all the life ahead of him, all the changes and challenges he will face. It's just so innocent. I love it. I hate that giant floofy bow under his chin. I would have torn that thing off instantly. How irritating. But I love it.

Venting about the Ungrateful DNA Testers

I try to link my DNA matches to my tree. If I cannot figure out how we are connected and there is no tree from them to work with, I often reach out to the person. Very often I do not hear back. People typically take these tests just wanting the ethnicity profile and then they disappear. (By the way, the ethnicity profile is the least useful aspect of the test results, but anyway...) Sometimes people are actually working on a tree. I am, of course, willing to share all the information I have gathered. My tree is public, etc., etc., etc.

If they do reply, sometimes I get back some of the most confounding messages, like this one:

"...With the upmost respect, I am asking please to not add me or anyone you might believe is directly linked to me.

...we are extremely far apart as relations.

...be kind and respectful in return.

...your research and the immense family tree you have built is so impressive!

...I am an extremely private person..."

I simply told them that if they do not want to share information, they should take down their DNA or they will likely be contacted by others trying to figure out the connection.

But what I really wanted to say:

1. Telling me to be kind and respectful when I have been nothing but kind and respectful is not only unnecessary, it's fucking rude. I shared all my research information with you. You be kind and respectful. Say thank you!

2. We are not "extremely far apart." Trust me. 3rd, 4th, even 5th cousins is not extremely far apart. If we were extremely far apart, my tree would not have been useful to you.

3. I'll put whoever I damn well please into my tree.

4. I am happy to keep you out of my tree but you're not the only person ever born of an affair. Ease up there, unicorn.

5. If you are "an extremely private person", don't take a DNA test.

Grrr. It makes me so mad that people want the answers to their mystery but are not willing to share their findings. You want to know what you want to know and you used me to find it but now you won't share the discover. 

Take your DNA down. 

...and the word is utmost.

52 Ancestors Challenge Week 1: "Start at the Beginning" - This Year's Research Goal and Who Lured Me into This Kind of Research

My genealogy goal for this year is to write brief biographies on each of my direct ancestors back to at least my great-great grandparents.

Every summer I teach a genealogy course through a graduate program to pre-service librarians, those pursuing a masters degree in library and information science. I give them the assignment to write a brief biography on one of their ancestors, typically they choose a great grandparent. They need to use resources to substantiate names, dates, locations, and relationships in their ancestor's story. So now I am going to try it for 30 of my ancestors (2 parents, 4 grandparents, 8 great grandparents, 16 great-great grandparents). 

I have been at this genealogy thing for a long, long time now; about 40 years and it is high time that I put my work to words on paper for future generations of my family to inherit in some digestible format. I love documents but looking at a heap of them doesn't really explain what I have learned from all that I have gathered. So in addition to picking up the 52 Ancestor Challenge again, I've set my own time table to write these biographies. Basically I plan to write one every 2 weeks, give or take a day. I hope to share some of them. Although, any that includes information about the living will not make it onto my blog.

I plan to write about direct ancestors, but it isn't a direct ancestor who lured me into my genealogy research journey. I share this story often, every time I give a presentation, in fact. This is how I got started.

When I was a pre-teen, I attended a family reunion for my paternal grandfather's mother's family, the Losee Family. While we were there my paternal grandMOTHER's brother, Richie, and his wife, Jeannette showed up. I thought that odd because they weren't Losees, they were Henrys. I thought maybe the invitation was sent to extended family members as well but my grandma explained that Aunt Jeanette was born a Losee. That kind of blew my mind and I couldn't quite get my head around it. How were we related? At the time, neither my Grandpa Earle or Aunt Jeannette couldn't explain the connection. And that is what began my research. I had to figure out how Aunt Jeanette was related to Grandpa Earle.

To make the matter even more puzzling, I asked my grandmother who introduced who to their current spouse. "Oh no," she replied and proceeded to tell me that it was after she had married my grandpa that her brother Richie got engaged to Aunt Jeannette. Grandma's parents threw them an engagement party at the Henry home so that everyone could meet Jeannette. While there Grandpa asked Jeannette her last name. When Jeannette replied "Losee" my grandpa stated his mother's maiden name was Losee.

Now this reunion was back before the Internet so my research process began with a trip to the Freeport Memorial Library in Freeport, New York with the knowledge that the Losees had lived in Freeport for a very long time. While there my grandmother and I were taken into what they called the Memorial Room and up on the wall there was a plaque explaining that the library was a memorial to those in the community who had died in the American Civil War. Among the names was Benjamin F. Losee. 

After resolving that Grandpa and Jeanette were second cousins, they had great grandparents in common, I was then lured into figuring out who Benjamin F. Losee was and how I was related to him. (He's my great-great-great grandfather's brother, by the way.)

If you have been doing genealogy research for any period of time you know first hand that once you resolve the answer to one question, several more pop up. It is a never ending quest to piece together a puzzle that has no edges.