Happy Mother's Day to all of the women....

Happy Mother's day!  I am blessed today to have my two daughters plan the day me.  Ashley made breakfast consisting of coffee and an oatmeal smoothie. What a treat! She says she doesn't want me to have to do anything today.  I am all for it!


Of course, I will continue to work on my presentation -- Grebbel & Gemütlichkeit--for the AHGSR Convention in Portland next month. Brent Mai asked me to speak on my experience creating "Value Meals on the Volga" cookbook.  There are great cooking demonstrations scheduled so he thought a presentation on Volga German cooking would be ideal.  I made substantial progress yesterday and hope to complete the final PowerPoint touches this morning. 


It has been five years since I published my cookbook.  My mother was my inspiration so it is quite fitting that I finish this presentation on Mother's Day. I cannot prepare these meals without hearing my Mother words of wisdom about each step.  Each meal adds flavor to and makes up the ingredients of my family history.


My gratitude extends to my mother, grandmothers, great-grandmothers and all of the women who have kept our food and family traditions intact for centuries. I am humbled to walk in your footsteps.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!

The Jakob Heinle Family of Johannestal by Ray Heinle

I have known Ray Heinle for the past eight years as a member and First Vice President of the AHSGR Arizona Sun Chapter.

While Ray has been an asset to our local chapter, his work and research has extended to many others within AHSGR and GRHS. Ray, who serves as the village coordinator for Johannestal, Beresan, Odessa, Russia, has compiled his family history into a full color hard cover book. This book is a must for all Johannestal descendants.

Ray writes that “While I have attempted to make this document as accurate as possible, there are most certainly mistakes in these pages.” Any of us who have tried to write our family histories understand his perspective. Our family histories are fluid, filled with stories and information that change as we research and learn more every year.

Ray is also generous with sharing his research. He tells readers to feel free to copy his book.
All of the pictures and documents printed in his book are of exceptional quality. The full color pictures of the Warenburg church on page 28 demonstrate the ravages of time. The baptismal and confirmation certificates in Appendix N are superbly preserved family heirlooms.

Ray’s research has sparked a link on the GRHS home page to “Ray Heinle’s Korner.” In his Korner, Ray displays his family genealogy and photos. You can visit the web site at http://www.grhs.org/korners/heinle/heinle.html.

The title page of Ray’s book introduces his story with the old Russian proverb, “You live as long as you are remembered.” What an eloquent and appropriate sentiment. He has embraced that proverb and, with this book, Ray will be remembered for a long, long time.
Ray’s book is available for download or print copy at http://www.lulu.com/browse/search.php?fListingClass=0&fSearch=the+jakob+heinle+family .

Addition to the family

As many of you are aware, my extended family includes my chihuahua mix shorthair dog, Harrison aka Harry.

Last Saturday we added a member to our household. Ashley christened him Huck named after her favorite Mark Twain character.

We had our share of hiccups as we brought him home. Harry met Huck outside and we went for a walk before the first steps into the house. Harry's territory which was now going to be transformed forever into a two dog home.

There were a lot of getting to know you squabbles, but Harry is definitely the alpha dog. From Saturday to Tuesday we were a bit on edge as we ironed out the kinks of living with two dogs.

When I came home Wednesday night, things were not going according to plan. Huck breathed with great effort and it stuck me as more serious than kennel cough. He hadn't eaten for a day and a half. I immediately called the veterinarian despite having an appointment on Saturday. I caught them at closing and they listened to his breathing over the phone. They recommended that he be brought to the office at 8 a.m. the next day.

Ashley took him and the doctor made three recommendations. Perhaps naively, we accepted the most expensive. However we made the right decision. After radiograms and an IV to build up his fluids, he was diagnosed with aspiration pneumonia. Antibiotics and fluids were given the rest of the day. I picked him up at 5 p.m., talked with the doctor, found out Huck also has microphthalmia. All of these things would probably have turned off dog o dog adopters. And, yes, it is a bit scary that he already has pneumonia and could be susceptible to more.

But Huck, after only a few days, is already part of the family. And we accept family as is. There is no "turning them back in."

My instincts to get another dog were correct, despite the rocky road we traveled this last week. As Huck continues his recovery, he is slowly regaining his health. For a little one-year old dog who was found on Highway 60 and Dobson, he has grown into our pal and companion for life.

What Holiday Legacy do we leave behind?

I just saw my umpteenth commercial for greedy holiday shopping. You know what I mean.

The one where someone asks "Can you read my list?" and the man says it is all crossed off and the woman makes what I guess is a victory noise. Or, the other where the woman sits smugly in the chair eating Santa's cookies and drinking Santa's milk. Really? Is shopping now portrayed as a competition? A competition with Santa? It's the only commercial I've seen with Santa, excluding the man who looks like him and sells cars. Is nothing sacred?

Just for the record, I love to give and receive gifts. Gifts given with the right spirit and intention are a blessing for us all. I am all for the dollars flowing through and building our economy. Unfortunately, every commercial I see features competition, crying and images that a phone and 4G are gifts. This disturbs me.

I know, I should turn off the TV. I normally watch PBS and multitask through show after show. However Sunday I wanted the background distraction of football, which is part of my family history, to catch updates of the Green Bay Packer score. But I digress.

Which brings me back to my original thought. What legacy are we leaving for our families for the holidays? Are we stressed with over-shopping and overindulgence? Will our children remember our exhausted faces or will they remember how family came first? Or will the competition to out do Santa Claus overtake us? Can we as a nation honestly answer this question?

This makes me revert back to the Stephen Covey principle...Begin with the end in mind. How do you want to look back at the holidays in January? Relief that you made it through? Or delight that you spent the best time with your family in years. I vote for the later.

Choose now to reduce the stress, maybe do a few less things than you intend. Sit. Talk. Reminisce.
Share your family stories of when you were a child. Share the stories your parents told you years ago. Ask questions such as what was the best book you read this year? What is the best Christmas song of all time? What was your favorite song of the year? You might be surprised by some of the answers and learn more about your family and friends just because you asked.

Share your family history and build the right traditions which will create a legacy of the true holiday spirit for your family. You can't stop your family from seeing these commercials but you can live the holidays in a simple, relaxed and celebratory fashion.

So, turn off the television and talk. At least when the Green Bay Packer game is over.

Happy 5 Year Anniversary! The Making of Value Meals on the Volga.

RECAP OF MY PRESENTATION OF "The Making of Value Meals on the Volga" on November 2, 2011 at Barnes & Noble, Pima & Shea, Scottsdale Fiesta Shopping Center.

Good evening everyone. And thank you for joining us tonight at Barnes & Noble.
Our theme this evening is historical fiction and family history. These are two of my passions. I write both and dabble in fictionalized versions of true events. I also write two blogs. One “Value Meals on the Volga” focuses on family history research and tips. The other blog is Write to the Heart of the Matter, which features updates on writing, analysis of writing techniques and book reviews. However tonight I will discuss my first published book Value Meals on the Volga.

This book celebrates its five year anniversary this month. But the making of this book started when I was about eight years old.

During my childhood, other kids in school, and in my neighborhood, told me about the things they did with their grandparents; traveling, visiting relatives, celebrations and so forth. I only had one grandmother and I didn’t understand genealogy at that point, so I asked my Dad, why do I only have one grandmother?

He told me I had another grandmother and two grandfathers, but they had died before I was born. Of course, I then had a million other questions about who they were, where they lived, when they died….suddenly I was fascinated with my genealogy and a family historian was born.

Among the many questions I asked was prompted by a homework assignment. Every student in my class had to go home that weekend and find out where their families came from.
Again, I went to my Dad and asked, “Where did our family live before we came to the United States?” He immediately answered “Germany,” then paused and said, “But they lived in Russia.”

I was stunned. Russia? When I was 8 years old there was a COLD WAR with Russia. The Berlin Wall was firmly in place. How could we be Germans from Russia? My dad saw the look on my face and said, “Let’s ask your grandmother.” On our regular Sunday visit, my dad asked my grandmother about “where we came from.” She explained the story which begins with a German princess named Sophia.

Sophia Augusta Frederica was born in Stettin, Pomerania in 1729. You may recognize her by the name she used when she ruled as empress of Russia, Catherine II or Catherine the Great.
Pomerania in Prussia was one of the many Germanic states that existed in the 1700s. The actual country of Germany was not formed until the 1860s. Instead there were Hapsburgs and Hohenzollern and many different lords and princes in charge of each state. These states were fiefdoms and provinces which often battled with each other for land and serfs. Whoever won the latest skirmishes often dictated religion, language and culture of the province. Some years the official language of the province was German, a year later it could be French. Sometimes the province was Lutheran and if a Catholic prince won the land, everyone would convert to Catholicism. After the Seven Years war ended in 1760, the German people were tired of famine, death, mandatory military service and cultural shifts.

Catherine was a wise woman and a survivor. She knew the people of the Germanic states were strong industrious individuals who could help settle her vast expanse of land. She made an offer that was difficult for these people to refuse. In 1763 Catherine issued her second manifesto inviting foreigners to settle in Russia. She offered free land, freedom of religion, language, culture and exemption from military service. Many of these Germans were intrigued with her offer to farm the land. My ancestors accepted and ultimately moved to the villages of Reinwald and Mariental along the Volga River.

There are many more stories I have learned over the years about Germans from Russia…how they maintained their language, religion and culture for over 200 years. And, a big part of their culture was FOOD. It has been said that Germans from Russia do not dine, they eat! They were simple farmers, who ate simple food. The women passed down recipes from generation to generation teaching the skills and techniques via demonstration.

Value Meals on the Volga chronicles how my mother learned these recipes and how she, in turn, taught these recipes to me. I grew up with this food. I helped my mother as a child and she helped me as an adult to remember and fine tune these recipes for the next generation. Many traditions revolve around meals. There is nothing like gathering the family together around a hot oven to spur memories and conversation.

Value Meals on the Volga not only describes my unique ancestry, but it gathers together German Russian recipes so we can re-create and savor the food our grandmothers used to make. With step-by-step instructions and full color photographs, you can create delicious meals whether you are a novice or gourmet cook. The soups, entrees, and desserts will help you to re-connect with your own past by relaxing and taking time to enjoy a great meal.

Take back time with your family. Find a way to talk with your loved ones by sharing stories of your own family history. The first sentence of this book is “How will your grandchildren remember you?” Let Value Meals on the Volga help you find the answer.
Happy Fifth Anniversary!

Happy 5 Year Anniversary to Value Meals on the Volga! Join me to Celebrate Nov 1 at Barnes & Noble

Happy Anniversary Value Meals on the Volga! It was published five years in November.

To celebrate this events I will discuss the making of Value Meals on the Volga at Barnes & Noble on Tuesday, November 1. The theme of this event, sponsored by the Scottsdale Society of Women Writers, is Family History and Historical Fiction. Join us for a fabulous evening.

Here are the full details:

WHEN: Tuesday NOVEMBER 1st , 2011 - 6:30 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. – Free Event
WHERE: Barnes and Noble Booksellers - 90th St., Shea Blvd., west of the 101, Scottsdale

South America Here I Come!

Today I experienced a South American adventure. My vacation was over weeks ago, but does that have to stop me from having an adventure this weekend?

It began with an email from the Volga German Roots web list. Gerardo Waimann of Buenos Aires, Argentina, a descendant of Volga Germans from Russia, sent us the following message:

“Dear members of the list:

Under the auspices of the German Embassy in Argentina, the Provincia Bank has published 3 magazines (of tourism and history) about the 3 Catholic colonies of the district of Coronel Suarez: Santa Trinidad (also named Colony I), San Jose (Colony II) and Santa Maria (Colony III).

The digital edition of these 3 publications can be downloaded (at no cost) with a click from the following URLs:
*Santa Trinidad
* San Jose
* Santa Maria
Another possibility to download them (in two steps, a little more complicated for non-speakers of Spanish) is from the Volga German website of Raul Wagner:
Santa Trinidad:
San Jose and Santa Maria:

Best regards to all the VG cousins in the northern hemisphere.”

Coronel Suarez was one of the many places I visited in Argentina in 2008. When I saw this email and checked out the links, I knew I had some more exploration to do. I settled into my chair and decided to turn on television and relax next to my dog, Harrison, while I read the magazines.



As I turned on PBS , I saw Bob Ross finish a painting. I checked the next PBS channel. I normally do not watch or know what is on television Saturday morning, but I wanted some background noise as I read my email and kept company with my dog Harrison who rested in his crate. He had a hectic week as he underwent surgery, a Femoral Head Ostectomy also known as FOH.

One of the things I didn’t mention about my vacation was the Harrison incident. During a routine nail clipping, the technician called and told me Harrison had sprained his ankle. When I picked him up from the appointment, he was noticeably limping and in pain.
Since I was unable to get him to my vet on Saturday, we had to wait until Monday to have radiograms.

The ultimate diagnosis was hip dysplasia and arthritis, a chronic condition. Harrison is only ten months old so the doctor recommended a specialist review his x-rays to determine if surgery was needed.

No matter what happened when his nails were trimmed, the provider mishandled the communication and situation. They did ultimately offer to pay for my vet visit. The check has not arrived in my mailbox but I have not lost hope of receiving it. Corporate America is slow to move on reimbursements.

On Tuesday, three anxious weeks later, the specialist contacted us. The verdict was surgery. I was nervous when I dropped him off for surgery yet Dr. Drager increased my comfort level. Now that Harrison has been back home for two days, I am still nervous. So, as I watch Harrison slowly heal, I am thrilled to have a South American adventure.

From Travelscope to Rudy Maxa’s World to the Seasoned Traveler and Passport to Adventure, my mind soared across the countries. Their excursions in Argentina from Buenos Aires to Mendoza and from Chile to Peru inspired me.

As I watched some of the brief histories, I wondered why we do not learn more of about South America in school. Why do we focus on European and North American history? Didn’t the Spanish, French and English explorers settle in the southern hemisphere, too? Why does the United States act as if they were the only country to import slaves? Why can’t North Americans instinctively draw a relatively accurate map of the countries in South America? Why don’t we know our southern neighbors better? For that matter, why don’t we understand Canada better? When I traveled to Argentina, one of my fellow tourists said, “I always thought Canada was one of the United States.” I laughed until I realized she was serious.

When I see wonderful shows like those on PBS today, I understand how much I need to learn despite my knowledge of Canada as a country composed of provinces and separate from the United States. During Harrison’s recuperation over the next six to eight weeks, I will have ample opportunity to continue to explore the South American continent from the comfort of my chair. And to dream of that next trip. I have my eye on the wine country of Mendoza.

Cleaning house is a lesson in family history-Part II

Tuesday when I updated this blog, my desk was in the entryway to my home office. My daughter and I were prepared to move it to the garage and ultimately to the curb for recycling. But she was at work and I never leave well enough alone. I decided to try to move the desk myself.

I wanted to make quicker progress on my room renovation. Earlier in the day, I checked out desks online at Fry’s Electronics. While I did not find the desk of my dreams, I wanted to get to the store as soon as possible to view the desks “live and in person.”

So I edged and pulled and pushed and yanked and shuffled and backed up and tugged the desk. About one third of it was now in the hallway. As I analyzed my next move, I realized the desk needed to be propped up vertically on the short side to make it into the hallway. And, even with that Herculean effort, the top half of the desk still would be in the way of rotating it fully. Then Ashley and I would still need to navigate the turn to get it into the garage.

I decided the only way the desk was moving anywhere was to remove the top shelves. I grabbed a screwdriver and used it as a crowbar between the joints. Nothing budged. I searched for a hammer in the toolbox, the laundry room and the kitchen to no avail. (This is where I typically blame my children. But how often do my daughters use hammers? And one daughter no longer lives here. OK, let’s just not go there).

So I stood in my 120 plus degree garage and looked for any tool which could help me . My father, who had worked at the Kohler Company, had given me many tools most of which are somewhere in my house. I found one hanging on the wall and my faded memory tells me it was used on cast iron bathtubs. (Kohler is a small village in Wisconsin, located west of Sheboygan. I grew up in its shadow with three of my uncles, an aunt and many other family members earning their livelihood from the Kohler family).

Could I swing this hammer on steroids and remove the shelving? It was worth a shot.
I methodically hammered the edges I wanted to remove and within five minutes the shelves were separated. I dragged the shelf to the garage, pleased with my accomplishment. Now onto moving the desk.

When I returned and looked at what remained, it suddenly didn’t look too bad. Wasn’t this better than what I had seen on the Fry’s electronics web site? Why didn’t I think of this before?

There stood my desk, barely ravaged from the hammer, and ready for a new life. I have no idea why I didn’t just slam the tool into the desk and smash it to pieces. Now instead of buying a desk, I can spend my money on bookshelves, frames, paint or whatever else strikes my fancy. An antique Kohler hammer transformed my desk and with a few more little touches, I will have exactly what I need for my new office. I may just believe in reincarnation.

Cleaning house is a lesson in family history

I am on vacation this week. Everyone asked me where I was going for the week, and I proudly announced, "I am staying home.'

I feel less-stressed simply because I am on vacation. I go to sleep when I want and wake up when I want. But, the real sense of freedom comes in knowing I am cleaning my own house, putting my own life in order. My goal is to save only what I absolutely need, and to give away or toss the rest. And I hope to locate my copies of the Reinwald censuses.

Like most genealogists, writers and artists. I work on projects in spurts, start new projects before others are done, and continue this cycle through books, family histories and genealogical searches. Add to that some research trips, a day job, and real life day to day living, and piles of "stuff" accumulate. I define "stuff" as something important which is a part of what you experienced or know you will need later in your research. I have rooms full of "stuff."

This week, I tackle the "stuff." I have discovered some of it is really good "stuff." While cleaning out a desk, I discovered office and school supplies to outfit two children for three school years. I discovered reams of paper, a key from my house in Tennessee, software for operating systems long past, and all of my credit cards from the 1980s. I saved the best "stuff" and tossed the rest. This desk, long past its Sauder lifetime, will be gone soon thanks to the Chandler Recycling department.



I think I will miss the desk. It sits poised at the entryway of what we always called "Grandma's room." The desk is empty for the first time since 1995, the room empty since June 17, 2010. I know once the desk is out of my house I won't actually miss it, I will simply miss the thought of it being in my mother's room when she was there. She remains in my heart and that is where she belongs. She is not in the desk.

It will take more time than this week to complete, but I feel cleansed just by starting the process.

Seed and Harvest Gene Update: Let there be seeds

As I mentioned to you in my March and April updates, spring resurrected my "Seed and Harvest" gene. This gene, which so long had lain dormant, was bequeathed to me by my ancestors. While it dominated my springtime, the gene experienced a bit of a drought during the summer in Arizona.

My landscape and garden classes are in hiatus. So, the last few months I considered which outdoor projects I should tackle first. After my classes, I realized I wasn't ready for a full fledged garden. I filled pages of "to do" lists for inside and outside my home. Where should I begin? The choices were vast and beyond my skills.

What I need is a "Master Plan" to follow for the next couple of years to transition my yard into my gardening paradise. A plan which uses my skills and invites the talents of others when I need support. Let me assure you, I am not as organized as a Master Plan would lead you to believe. I know I need a Master Plan, and there are lots of images floating in my head, but nothing has been committed to paper yet.

But, I wasn't going to let lack of a plan stop me.

In May, I bought a few plants. I dedicated my early evenings to check their growth, to water when needed and to make sure Harrison, my eight month old puppy, had not devoured my treasures. I was on "weed patrol" each night and the daily walks through the yard have improved its appearance. However, it has not been all fun and games.

My strawberry plants flowered and then withered in the Arizona sun not a berry to be seen nor eaten. Harrison ate my peppermint plant, its remains strewn across the stones of my backyard. The elephant food is the sole survivor and I have yet to plant my loofah seeds. I am a far cry from my ancestral roots of living off the land.

So, my latest plan is to let monsoon season and triple digit temperatures pass. In autumn, I will test my hand and plant fall and winter vegetables. The elephant food will be transplanted from pot to earth and I envision an ocotillo in the north east corner of my yard. And, yes, that gate I want to build to save the vegetables from Harrison, well, that is further down on the list.

In the meantime, I have discovered how to get that "home grown" harvest satisfaction without the soil and toil. There is an organization called www.bountifulbaskets.org which brings locally produced fresh fruit and vegetables to its participants. The program is run by volunteers who coordinate all of the orders, meet at pre-assigned locations and distribute the food.

I signed up for the co-op and picked up my first basket last Saturday. I was delighted with the kale, tomatoes, broccoli, pears, peaches, grapes, strawberries and watermelon. Yes, watermelon.

When I brought my basket of goods into my kitchen both times, I pretended I picked these items from my own backyard. If my own "Seed and Harvest" gene did not grow these delights, I could enjoy it like it had. I washed and dried the items, saving the watermelon for last. I used my serrated knife and sliced it down the middle.

Inside, there was an oval shaped ring of black seeds. If you read my blog of Sunday, June 12 , you understand how watermelon played a role in my family history and triggers memories of each generation. How odd that I find my bountiful basket watermelon is filled with seeds. Now I only have one more comment.

Yes, Ashley, watermelons have seeds.

July 4, 2011 - Independence and Intrigue

My grandfather, Fred Herzog, was born on July 4, 1882 in Reinwald, Russia. He gained his independence on April 9, 1907 when he arrived in Philadelphia aboard the Haverford. He traveled alone and his destination was Wisconsin. Like many immigrants, he came to live with other German Russian families on Erie Ave. in Sheboygan.

He lived with the Reimer's who were also from Reinwald. In 1913, he married their youngest daughter, Sophie, who was widowed in 1912 and left with two small children. He accepted the children as his own which tells us much about his character. He and Sophie are in the picture above, one of the three photographs I have of him.

Fred was always a mystery to me. His death certificate shows his birthplace was in Reinwald, Russia and lists his parents as Casper Herzog and Marvin Kauger as does his obituary in The Sheboygan Press. Yet, I could never connect him directly to the 1857, 1850 or original settler's Censuses for Reinwald. There are plenty of Herzog's listed, I simply never got close enough to 1882 to build the complete line.

The ship’s manifest lists Fred’s birthplace as Haviza, Russia. I assumed this was a mistake, but one can never be certain with these records. I searched for Haviza and found nothing that matched. Could it have been a temporary place he stayed in Russia while he earned enough money to travel to America? Or, could it have an illegibly written version of Starista, the Russian name for Reinwald?

Fred died in 1941 when my mother was only fourteen. She was so young she never asked for details about his life in Russia. I do know she was his “little angel” as he called her that the last time he saw her when she was in her beautiful white confirmation dress.

On Saturday when I chatted on facebook.com with my friend Ale Müller of Argentina, he mentioned the village of Rosenfeld. Ale and I share family ties to Reinwald. We have known each other online since my trip to Argentina. Ale told me some of his family moved from Reinwald to the daughter colony Rosenfeld as families grew and needed to expand to new land. He shared a copy of the 1862 Rosenfeld census* with me. Could this census be my link back to the Herzog's in the 1857 census? I skimmed through the pages and saw Herzog's and Reimer's among the recognizable Sheboygan family names.

On page 7, there are three Herzog families listed as follows:


Household # 20

Name.............Relationship to Head of Household.....Age
Peter Herzog.......Head..........................30
Margaretha Wagner......Spouse............29
Magadelena ...........Daughter..................5
Anna Katherina......Daughter.................3
Christina..................Daughter................½
Georg Andreas.........Brother...................23
Margetha Enders.....Sister-in-law..........21
Kaspar......................Nephew.....................1

Household # 21
Name...................Relationship to Head of Household.....Age
Friedrich Herzog........Head....................43
Magdelena Gauger.....Spouse.................40
Karl..............................Son.......................21
Maria Elisabeth Gauger....Daughter-in-law......19
Jakob...........................Son........................18
Katharina....................Daughter...............13
Maria Katharina.........Daughter................7

Household # 22
Name...................Relationship to Head of Household.....Age
Kaspar Herzog............Head.............39
Christina Knaus..........Spouse..........37
Friedrich......................Son................19
Jakob...........................Son.................15
Katharina....................Daughter.......13
Gottlieb........................Son.................11
Martin..........................Son..................9
Maria Elisabeth..........Daughter.........7
Margaretha.................Daughter.........4
Kaspar.........................Son...................3

I focused on the two younger Kaspar boys, ages 1 and 3, who would perhaps be the one to have fathered a child born in 1882 since they would have been 21 and 23 years old respectively. Kasper Herzog, age 39, would be 59 years of age in 1882, which certainly makes him a possibility but not the most likely candidate.

I also noticed there is a pattern of Herzogs marrying Gauger women. By the way, Gauger, when written in Russian, begins with a K. Am I on to something here?

Well, it is back to the Reinwald Censuses for a comparison of the Rosenfeld household numbers to the Herzog household numbers. The intrigue continues and my research begins anew. Today in honor of my grandfather’s birthday, I will celebrate the friendship of people like Ale who keep the momentum of family research flowing. I will celebrate Independence and thank my grandfather for coming to America. And, I wish my grandfather a blessed anniversary of his birth wherever it actually took place.



*1862 Census of Rosenfeld am Nachoi in the District of Samara, Russia, Dated January 10, 1862. Translated by Brent Mai, Concordia University, Portland, Oregon.

Family Secrets-Are you sure you want to know?

I recently listened to the book, "A Secret Kept" by Tatiana de Rosenay. When I picked out the book, I knew little about the story or author except what I read on the back of the audio cover. It sold me and I checked it out of my local library.

After I inserted the discs into my CD player, I was hooked before I finished the first paragraph. The characters of Antoine Rey and his sister Melanie piqued my interest. Their weekend getaway to a seaside hotel resurrected long-forgotten memories of a woman they barely knew, their mother. The memories spur them to investigate and interview family members to uncover the life and loves of Clarisse Rey.

There is much more to the story than genealogical and family history research. How the characters communicate and respond to each other tells more than some psychological thrillers. Yet, one of the most poignant moments for me is when Melanie tells Antoine she doesn't want to learn anything more about their mother. Melanie focuses on the remaining time with their father while Antoine carries on the investigation. As Melanie tells him, whatever he finds out, she simply doesn't care to know.

Many of us have experienced moments like these. You uncover a child born out of wedlock, a marriage filled with abuse, or a wayfarer who never returns home. Heartaches can put an end to a researcher's enthusiasm. I understand the dilemma.

In "A Secret Kept" Melanie chooses to spend her time with people alive now and Antoine decides to continue to search about his mother's life. It is a balancing act family historians face every day. This book offers insight for family historians and challenges us to question how well we know the people of our present and our past. Read it this summer and you won't regret it.

Toby was a good dog

Dogs become a part of our family history because they are part of our days, our nights and our homes. For years, I ignored dogs because I was told I was allergic to them. I knew first hand how hard it was for me to live with cats, and I assumed dogs would cause me the same turmoil.

When my daughter Becky brought her new dog Watson to my house at Christmas, I feared the worst yet learned the best. I could live in a house with a dog. Perhaps their dander wasn't as strong as what I experienced with cat litter boxes, or perhaps the shorter hair was easier on my breathing.

Once Becky and Watson left, Ashley and I missed them. We started the new year and I attended the Family History Expo "Where Ol' Dogs Learn New Tricks. Thanks to Holly Hansen, I blogged in the Blog House. Why were dogs everywhere I turned?

According to Chinese Astrology, I was born in the year of the Rooster. Since the 2011 astrological year belongs to the Rabbit, I discovered I needed the protection of a Dog. Was it a sign? I don't know but I borrowed my friend's Dog charm and kept it close. Was it my imagination, or did it really help?

Near the end of January I visited the Maricopa Animal Care just to see how the dog adoption system worked. Two days later, I brought home Harrison. He has been my walking partner and friend ever since. Within a few weeks I learned my nephew Steve had adopted Toby.

I only met Toby once, on Memorial Day when Steve and his Kool Pak truck stopped in Casa Grande for a short layover. Toby greeted me by jumping up, placing his paws on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. He smiled at me with his huge dog grin. He was happy and friendly, just like you would want your dog to be. He jumped in my car and made himself comfortable.

It was a short visit but I know he was a great companion for Steve. So, yesterday when my sister Joan told me he was killed, my heart just broke.

Toby was a good dog and he will be missed. He was only a part of my extended family for a short time, but he will not be forgotten.

Watermelon: Sowing the Seeds of My Family History

I found five black seeds in my seedless watermelon today.

Most people notice the black seeds and remove it without another thought. They certainly wouldn't bother counting nor would they blog about it. Yet, every time I scoop the red fruit out of the green rind, memories flash through my mind.

My first memory is of my Grandmother Bauer who hated watermelon. When she told me this fact in the early 1960s and I was appalled. How could anyone hate watermelon? It was refreshing and light and it meant summer. She understood and started to tell me a story about herself as a young girl growing up in Russia.

Her family, the Herrmanns of Mariental, Russia, lived off the land. Everyone was part of the harvesting work force once they were old enough to walk in the fields. Grandma said she had seen and lifted and harvested more watermelon than she had ever cared to in her life. If she never saw a watermelon again, it would be OK with her.

My second memory is of my mother who loved watermelon. For most of her life, she bought seeded watermelon and scooped it out in small melon balls carefully removing all of the black seeds. She would be upset if my Dad found any black seeds in the small perfectly sculpted melon balls. This was how watermelon was served for years.

When seedless watermelon arrived in the grocery stores, my Mom served watermelon more often than ever! In the later years, the small melon ball utensil was replaced with an ice cream scoop.

Today I dug into my watermelon with an ice cream scoop. Memories intact, I said to my daughter. "Hey, there are five black seeds in this watermelon!"

And, she replied, "I thought watermelon were supposed to have seeds."

Life goes on.

My Family Tree on Disney

I saw a commercial on Disney Channel entitled "My Family Tree." It focused on a young girl and her family who traced their ancestry back to early California. Their journey included a visit to her great grandfather's home (there may have been more than one great) which he built many years ago.

I was excited to see Disney "commercializing" family history and genealogy so I went to the Disney Channel web site for more information and initially found nothing. I did a google search and discovered these two vignettes on www.youtube.com and realized I had seen both air on Disney Channel, too.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXv_dz-yR2I


www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DVR9sM6sI0

I had no luck finding the California search but I did find other blogs such as Thomas MacEntee's Geneabloggers at http://www.geneabloggers.com/disney-genealogy-family-tree-series/ which talk about the forthcoming show...but what happened to the actual show? Most blogs indicate the "show," not a series of commercials, was to debut in November 2010. Maybe it did?

If you have heard more about this show, please share any information you have. I am curious about this one.

These are the Faces of Genealogy

New Kind of Memorial Day-Honor the past, savor the present

I love three day weekends. This one is no exception. Saturday and Sunday were fabulous days. And, it's going to be even better today.

I am thankful and honor all of the veterans who served our country. Whenever I think of Memorial Day, two people always come to mind. My father, Joseph, a World War II Navy veteran and his brother, John, a Marine who gave all in the Battle of Saipan.

As a child, the tradition on this day was to visit the cemeteries for all of our relatives and place flowers on the graves. Then we would grill bratwurst and enjoy a meal with our family.

Today, I am fortunate to have my daughter from Palm Springs on her way to Arizona to uphold the grilling tradition. Along with her boyfriend and my other daughter, I was looking forward to fun, family time.

But as fate would have it, my nephew Steve just happens to be in Arizona for a few hours today. So I am heading to Casa Grande to pick him up so we can spend some time together. I haven't seen Steve since last July when I was in Oregon. It wasn't exactly how I planned to spend my day. Who would miss a chance to spend time with family? Not me.

So, my message today is a bit shorter than my previous Memorial Day blogs, but not any less heartfelt. I honor the past and savor the present on this commemorative day.

(In picture above, Fred Bauer, Joseph Dalhaimer, Clementine Dalhaimer Bauer, Gottlieb Bauer, Zeaman Dalhaimer, in front Susan Dalhaimer Oehldrich Schmidt).

If the world ends today...

I have to admit, I don't think the world will end today. But, if it does, have you considered these perspectives:

1) We will be re-united with all of our ancestors.
2) Our genealogical quest will be over because all of our questions will be answered.
3) We no longer have to buy lottery tickets and dream of the big win.
4) Dog poop will not be a factor in our landscape design.
5) We only get in half of our weekend.
6) All those little home repairs we didn't get to, well, we just didn't get to
7) While our current physical world may end, our spiritual world continues
8) Isn't that why we are here anyway?
9) So, why did so many people want to leave this world hungover?
10) Isn't the real point to live everyday fully, be kind to and love everyone? And for every hour of every day, treat others as we would want to be treated? Don't we always want to respond to others as if it is the last time you will see them?

Because you never know when any one's world will end. So enjoy and love every minute of it. No matter how long it lasts.

Bittersweet May 7, 2011

Bittersweet is the word for today, May 7, 2011. If I said I was looking forward to it that would be a lie.

The week was ordinary enough with some fun on Wednesday for my daughter’s birthday. I enjoyed planning and preparing food for her party. It reminded me of how my Grandmother Bauer single-handedly made all of the food for her Christmas Eve Open House. The process is a lonely but extremely gratifying when the guests arrived. So it was with my small gathering. My refrigerator is now empty, not a leftover to be found.

By Friday I was ready for my work week to be over, to have free time and relax. Perhaps to draw or write or something to distract me. But in the back of my mind, I recognized my dread. Could even a bit of fear lay there unacknowledged?

When I arrived home last night, I walked Harrison and afterward I sat in my chair exhausted. Whether I was truly tired or dreaded the thought of today, I don't know. Thoughts can be funny that way. They linger and linger then fade away only to be revived at the oddest times.



I live in a great house, even if it isn't completely paid for. I have a good job and can get out of bed every day. My green thumb has been put to good use this spring. I have killed only one tomato plant. The elephant's food and strawberry plants are doing great, knock on wood. There is so much to be grateful for.

But, the weekend is bittersweet for me. Many people are looking forward to Mother's Day. I am not. This is my first Mother's Day weekend without Mom. And, today was her birthday.

Now I am not ready to hide in a closet and know I am certainly not the first person to experience loss. There are many people who never lived with their mothers, who didn't have a chance to spend most of their life with them. Or, unfortunately, their mothers were not like the kind, loving woman my mother was. But my thoughts turn to her often.

My eyes tear up as I remember the one year anniversaries of hospitalizations and doctor appointments. I realize this is a private journey with grief. My first year without my mother has its road bumps and I’ve hit a few curbs so far. Such as when I saw the Mother's Day card display and inadvertently headed to it wondering which one I would pick. I stopped flat in my tracks and headed the other direction. So how can I best explain how I feel about this weekend?

One of my hardest struggles is that so much of what I did - the writing, sharing family histories, and the genealogy - was just so much more fun with her. I miss the conversations we would have about each blog and the joy each memory or new discovery brought to her. I loved how she learned to use the arrows on the computer, but still had to ask me every time which key to push to scroll down to read the entry. Often I experience a writer's block because I realize I will no longer see or hear her response to my work. Of course, I do believe she knows what I write and what I do. But, to imagine her response is not the same as to witness it.



So, it is bittersweet. It is a beautiful spring day here. I will have breakfast at Liberty Market this morning, do errands and maybe jump in the swimming pool this afternoon. I will go through my day remembering her.

And in the late evening, I will sit on my patio and raise a toast of Kahlua Mudslide with milk to Mom and the time we had together. And do my best to keep writing.

"Seed and Harvest" Gene Kicks In

Spring has arrived and it has sparked my "seed and harvest" gene…the gene I tried to leave dormant for most of my life. It rose to the surface a few times during my life. I planted a small garden in Wisconsin where I grew tomatoes and zucchinis. I also designed my backyard landscape for my beautiful home in Tennessee. Since my German Russian ancestors lived off the land for centuries, I felt a strong connection to my family roots when I gardened. I remember my grandmother’s flower beds, the stories of my step-grandfather putting nails into trees to feed them iron, the raspberry bushes which edged the east boundary of Mr. Martin’s huge backyard garden. Part of my history...part of my family’s history.

Arizona is another matter. I’ve lived here for nine years but still don't have a sense of confidence about desert plants. The Sonoran Desert is a completely different climate and landscape. Until recently I had never heard the word “xeriscape.”

The seed gene began to sprout over a month ago when I registered for the "Pruning and Maintaining your Landscape" workshop led by Cathy Rymer, Water Conservation Coordinator for the City of Chandler. When I started the workshop I could name three of the plants in my backyard: palm trees, rosemary bushes and weeds. Now I can name about half of the plants. Best of all, this workshop was offered free by the City of Chandler.

My next venture was the Landscape class conducted by Ron Dinchak. He has been a Life Science Instructor at Mesa Community College for over forty years. For more information, check out http://ron.dinchak.com/. His passion and enthusiasm for using plants native to an arid climate is infectious.



During Dinchak’s sessions over the past three Tuesdays, I have learned many things including: 1) I now recognize many more plants; 2) I know that the loofah does not come from the ocean; 3) and I have measured my yard completely so I will limit my selections to plants which will fit in these spaces at maturity. I am also the proud owner of elephants food and tomato plants. I also own loofah seeds! Check out http://www.ehow.com/how_2126943_grow-loofah-sponges.html to find out more about the loofah plant.

So, the climate and landscapes may change, but the deep desire to put down roots may be grounded in my agrarian genes. Whether it is growing wheat, sugar beets, grapes or palo verdes, the German Russian adapts to the soil and climate of their surroundings. I may even be inspired to learn to become an Arizonan Master Gardener. The seed is firmly planted now, waiting to see how much I water it and let it thrive in the desert. The "seed and harvest" gene wins every time.

P.S. According to http://xeriscape.sustainablesources.com/, Xeriscape is defined as “quality landscaping that conserves water and protects the environment.” There are seven principles associated with Xeriscape landscapes:
1. Planning and Design
2. Soil Improvement
3. Appropriate Plant Selection
4. Practical Turf Areas
5. Efficient Irrigation
6. Use of Mulches
7. Appropriate Maintenance