Since doing all of this sleuthing on my mom and the hunt for her birth father, I have read over and over again that the DNA does not lie. I believe it. But people lie. And that is what makes this so hard. Why would people lie about things that were so important? Even not telling anyone is a lie so why? I understand in the thirties how this would have been a problem but to keep the information all of your life well past the turn of this century does not make sense. Honestly, for a long time I thought the possibility was that my mother might have been the product of incest. I can understand how someone would want to keep that private. Fortunately for GEDmatch, the test, "Are your parents related?", ruled that completely out for my mother.
So, here we are again, why not tell the truth? Here's the truth because the DNA does not lie. My mother's birth mother is Nellie Melrose. We knew this as she was able to obtain her initial birth certificate in the fifties where it listed Nellie as her mother (plus, the Blanchard postmistress knew the story about Nellie's pregnancy--small town gossip can sometimes be true). The father is listed as "unknown". In addition, her half-sibling took a DNA test and showed up as "close family" with extremely high confidence results. In my mother's case, this only confirmed what she already knew about that side of her family. Through her first cousin match on the paternal side, we were able to determine that she shared the same grandparents and his maternal grandparents are the relation. The maternal grandparents only had three children (two twin fraternal girls and a boy). So the boy is her birth father: Marion Alonzo Holden. He was 18 in 1932 in Blanchard, Oklahoma. He either graduated in 1931 or 1932 from Blanchard High School. Nellie graduated in 1932. Nellie became pregnant in March of 1932 (my mother was born December 28, 1932).
Either Nellie did not tell him she was pregnant or refused to marry him. We are sure from the Holden family members that Marion's mother (Electa) would have required them to get married. It's possible Marion was already going to school at Oklahoma A & M (going to college was also an Electa requirement) so maybe that would have taken Nellie too far away from her family. In addition, we understand that Marion had an aunt and uncle that had moved to Alaska with the promise of the government giving them land. Marion had desires to move there, too (and did after school). Alaska was a wilderness then (and much of it is still now). If Marion had made these wishes known, it's possible that Nellie just didn't want to have any part of it.
Because of this, maybe that's why Nellie pinned the birth father on Homer Pilgrim. The only information we ever received from Nellie or her sister, Leona, was this: Leona said the birth father was the tallest boy with blonde hair and blue eyes in Nellie's graduating class and that she told her daughter, Joyce Ann, that he had died in a car wreck. Honestly, it's possible that Nellie did not even tell her sister who the real birth father was. Nellie only said once to my mother, when she asked, "I can't give you the name of a dead man." That could apply to Homer or Marion. But if that is what she told people back then, then there was no way for her to get married to Homer as everyone knew he had died (and she would have gained a fair amount of sympathy from relatives for this kind of loss, rather than getting pregnant from someone who she could have married).
We know that Homer died February 29, 1932 and never graduated high school. We aren't sure how he died although I have been able to confirm the date through the state. It seems a bit early since we calculated that Nellie did not get pregnant until March but it's possible they fudged on my mom's birth date. Things like that happened back then. We saw the high school picture and, indeed, Homer was the tallest. However, Leona didn’t say he was the tallest boy in that picture. The tallest boy might have missed picture day. In the picture, Homer was not listed as graduating.
Marion was not in the picture nor listed as a graduate for 1932. We didn't look at 1931 but do plan to go back and do so. But none of Homer's ancestors match in my mom's DNA. I've gone through three family trees and cannot find any matching grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great grandparents nor great-great-great grandparents. However, on Marion's side, we have matching grandparents through the first cousin, great-great grandparents (through three second cousins) and great-great-great grandparents (through three third cousins). The DNA does not lie. So there you have it, it's Marion Alonzo Holden.
My mother, since she believes Leona, thinks there is a glitch in the DNA but when I compare her DNA directly against her first cousins in GEDmatch, they match in large segments (large enough to be first cousins) on almost all chromosomes. That isn't a glitch, it's the reality. I personally think Nellie didn't tell Leona the truth either, for whatever reason. I am sure Nellie would roll over in her grave if she knew we could simply buy a DNA test and it would tell us the secret she kept so long.
My mom can be proud that she came from a family like Marion's. They seem so similar to the Buckner family. Well-preserved pictures of large family get togethers just like our Buckner family. And he died serving his country during WWII at Guadalcanal--how honorable is that? He didn't have to join the navy, he volunteered. And for this service, he was honored with a purple heart. I can't think of a better person to call my grandfather, for my nephews to call great-grandfather and my great-nieces and great-nephews to call great-great grandfather.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Thursday, August 9, 2018
And I sit by myself, Like a cobweb on a shelf, By myself in a lonely room
The previous post was actually written in December 2015. I am not sure why I did not publish it back then. However, as I write that, I do know. Investigating my dad and his family made me miss my dad all the more. He wasn’t there to ask questions and he never would be. That reality sent me into a depression that I couldn’t admit to anyone. It just was like the lyrics in the title to this post. I was in a lonely room.
I’m not sure I will ever snap out of it but it’s better now. I still cry when I watch the video from his funeral but I can talk about it now, or at least on this blog. It’s a wonder we found so many pictures of him laughing; he hated posing for pictures and tried his best not to let a smile out much to the chagrin of my mother.
But the reality was that was who he was before his heart surgery or at least how I remember him. After heart surgery, it changed him. He became more scared of the world and isolated himself more often in his safe house. Perhaps that was his lonely room.
Then after his death, it was like we lost an essential part of a machine. Without him, nothing seemed to work like it should. Without my dad alive, it was if mother had been transformed into another person. She too became more scared and helpless. Before my dad's death, she would call me everyday to check on me, but after his death weeks would go by until I called her. I noticed it immediately and even tested it out. Perhaps she also was in her lonely room.
As I said, I am better now, not perfect but I want to get back honoring his family. What sort of spurred this on was the re-occurrence of my mother’s lymphoma. You would think this would have me spiraling into the depths of depression but it has rather pushed me forward. We were talking and I asked her if she still thought about contacting her real life half siblings who did not know she existed and she said yes. She already had her life story ready to mail to each of them but just hadn’t done it. And she still wondered about who her birth father was. I mentioned that we could do a DNA test to see if anything came up. To my surprise, she wanted to do it. We went through the motions of getting her DNA analyzed through Ancestry. It would take about four to six weeks.
In the meantime, I revisited my ancestry account which I had not done since 2015. It made me remember that the absence of a real family on my mother’s side was more than fulfilled when she married into the Buckner family. This was a family that celebrated as a family and came together for just those reasons. Thanksgivings, sometimes Christmases, Easters (does anyone remember the glorious coconut cake Grandma Buckner used to make?), annual summer family reunions.
I remember the kids table at dinner time and drinking the best cold water ever out of brightly colored metal glasses. I remember opening the picket fence gate that slammed behind you and walking on the smooth stone pathway, admiring the beautiful flower gardens on either side, to what I always thought was the front door (it turns out that was actually the back door as it went immediately into the kitchen). I remember entering the kitchen with the glass-paned cabinets and built-in Hoosier cabinet and the center island where it always seemed Grandma Buckner was at work preparing her next delectable meal. I remember walking into the living area where Grandpa Buckner would hold his court from a recliner. I used to think this house was so large but now when I look at it, it’s tiny. How we held so many people in that same living room for dinners is beyond me but it never seemed cramped. Grandpa Buckner would urge us kids to eat our carrots as they would make our eyes blue. I wonder now if all of us did have blue eyes?
I remember the bedrooms and how cool the blankets always felt and the plushness of the feather pillows. I remember the dirt floor cellar on the side of the house and how cool it was on a hot day but also how spooky. I always wondered what Grandma Buckner kept down there? I remember what I thought was the back of the house (which was actually the front) with a covered long porch with sweet-smelling roses growing nearby and outdoor lounge chairs scattered about. It looked out to an expanse of green lawn with large Cedar trees at the fence line. It felt private and I would sometimes catch my Grandma taking a rest there while my cousins and I wreaked havoc in the yard.
Beyond the house on the other side were the barns across the road. They were painted that classic barn red and had a huge Osage Orange tree growing on the side. Grandpa Buckner would remind us to never eat the horse apples (that’s what he called them) or we would get “real sick”. Brightly colored chickens were scattered about clucking around and the air smelt of a mix of manure and hay. Down across the road a bit were huge grain silos. That was another warning from Grandpa—never go to the silos by yourself. When they opened the door to them when they were empty, they looked harmless. Not until I was an adult did I ever understand how dangerous a silo can be. I remember the long roads on either side of the house that took us to and from the big town of Savanna and beyond.
All of these memories rush back to me about the sense of place and people. It is almost as if I am in a virtual reality game and I can almost reach out and touch these things and people—they live in my memory that strongly. And I am sure they do for my relatives. I hope they will either comment on their memories here or start their own blogs to keep these memories alive. Well, I have gone on, haven’t I? And no pictures! Frankly, I’ve almost forgot how to do all that fancy-smancy stuff but I will get it together. These Buckner people and others are depending upon it. I’ve decided to include in this blog my mother’s search for her family. It will make sense as I tell you her story because her story is quite similar to our very own Grandpa Buckner.
I will end this post with my Ancestry profile which I wrote about six weeks ago but seems apropos for here.
Between the Spears family on one side and the Mears family on the other, divorces, children borne out of wedlock, names that weave throughout generations, families with dozens of children (those women deserve medals), Glory, Texas!, those who fought for our country (thank you Henry Buckner--I can now be a DAR), slaveowners (very sad) and possible African ancestors (Cecily Collmore, St. Bart’s or Liberia origins?), those who fought for the union and fought against it, the rebel rousers (thank you Charles Nevill, Earl of Westmorland for my fighting spirit), I am trying to find the truth in my own family tree. What I have found so far is that the world is so much more complex than any of us can ever really know or understand.
I’m not sure I will ever snap out of it but it’s better now. I still cry when I watch the video from his funeral but I can talk about it now, or at least on this blog. It’s a wonder we found so many pictures of him laughing; he hated posing for pictures and tried his best not to let a smile out much to the chagrin of my mother.
But the reality was that was who he was before his heart surgery or at least how I remember him. After heart surgery, it changed him. He became more scared of the world and isolated himself more often in his safe house. Perhaps that was his lonely room.
Then after his death, it was like we lost an essential part of a machine. Without him, nothing seemed to work like it should. Without my dad alive, it was if mother had been transformed into another person. She too became more scared and helpless. Before my dad's death, she would call me everyday to check on me, but after his death weeks would go by until I called her. I noticed it immediately and even tested it out. Perhaps she also was in her lonely room.
As I said, I am better now, not perfect but I want to get back honoring his family. What sort of spurred this on was the re-occurrence of my mother’s lymphoma. You would think this would have me spiraling into the depths of depression but it has rather pushed me forward. We were talking and I asked her if she still thought about contacting her real life half siblings who did not know she existed and she said yes. She already had her life story ready to mail to each of them but just hadn’t done it. And she still wondered about who her birth father was. I mentioned that we could do a DNA test to see if anything came up. To my surprise, she wanted to do it. We went through the motions of getting her DNA analyzed through Ancestry. It would take about four to six weeks.
In the meantime, I revisited my ancestry account which I had not done since 2015. It made me remember that the absence of a real family on my mother’s side was more than fulfilled when she married into the Buckner family. This was a family that celebrated as a family and came together for just those reasons. Thanksgivings, sometimes Christmases, Easters (does anyone remember the glorious coconut cake Grandma Buckner used to make?), annual summer family reunions.
I remember the kids table at dinner time and drinking the best cold water ever out of brightly colored metal glasses. I remember opening the picket fence gate that slammed behind you and walking on the smooth stone pathway, admiring the beautiful flower gardens on either side, to what I always thought was the front door (it turns out that was actually the back door as it went immediately into the kitchen). I remember entering the kitchen with the glass-paned cabinets and built-in Hoosier cabinet and the center island where it always seemed Grandma Buckner was at work preparing her next delectable meal. I remember walking into the living area where Grandpa Buckner would hold his court from a recliner. I used to think this house was so large but now when I look at it, it’s tiny. How we held so many people in that same living room for dinners is beyond me but it never seemed cramped. Grandpa Buckner would urge us kids to eat our carrots as they would make our eyes blue. I wonder now if all of us did have blue eyes?
I remember the bedrooms and how cool the blankets always felt and the plushness of the feather pillows. I remember the dirt floor cellar on the side of the house and how cool it was on a hot day but also how spooky. I always wondered what Grandma Buckner kept down there? I remember what I thought was the back of the house (which was actually the front) with a covered long porch with sweet-smelling roses growing nearby and outdoor lounge chairs scattered about. It looked out to an expanse of green lawn with large Cedar trees at the fence line. It felt private and I would sometimes catch my Grandma taking a rest there while my cousins and I wreaked havoc in the yard.
Beyond the house on the other side were the barns across the road. They were painted that classic barn red and had a huge Osage Orange tree growing on the side. Grandpa Buckner would remind us to never eat the horse apples (that’s what he called them) or we would get “real sick”. Brightly colored chickens were scattered about clucking around and the air smelt of a mix of manure and hay. Down across the road a bit were huge grain silos. That was another warning from Grandpa—never go to the silos by yourself. When they opened the door to them when they were empty, they looked harmless. Not until I was an adult did I ever understand how dangerous a silo can be. I remember the long roads on either side of the house that took us to and from the big town of Savanna and beyond.
All of these memories rush back to me about the sense of place and people. It is almost as if I am in a virtual reality game and I can almost reach out and touch these things and people—they live in my memory that strongly. And I am sure they do for my relatives. I hope they will either comment on their memories here or start their own blogs to keep these memories alive. Well, I have gone on, haven’t I? And no pictures! Frankly, I’ve almost forgot how to do all that fancy-smancy stuff but I will get it together. These Buckner people and others are depending upon it. I’ve decided to include in this blog my mother’s search for her family. It will make sense as I tell you her story because her story is quite similar to our very own Grandpa Buckner.
I will end this post with my Ancestry profile which I wrote about six weeks ago but seems apropos for here.
Between the Spears family on one side and the Mears family on the other, divorces, children borne out of wedlock, names that weave throughout generations, families with dozens of children (those women deserve medals), Glory, Texas!, those who fought for our country (thank you Henry Buckner--I can now be a DAR), slaveowners (very sad) and possible African ancestors (Cecily Collmore, St. Bart’s or Liberia origins?), those who fought for the union and fought against it, the rebel rousers (thank you Charles Nevill, Earl of Westmorland for my fighting spirit), I am trying to find the truth in my own family tree. What I have found so far is that the world is so much more complex than any of us can ever really know or understand.
Tuesday, August 7, 2018
Starting as a farmer with a brand new wife- Soon be livin' in a brand new state! Brand new state - gonna treat you great!
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Marion Buckner circa 1900
|
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| Elsie Oriella Spears? |
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| Biardstown, Texas circa 1909 Delmar, Claud, Viola May, Oriel Spears |
Oriel School Picture--year, place unknown--she is in back row, middle with a bob haircut and big smile
I looked for Glory, Texas (Lamar County) on Google maps and found this: https://goo.gl/maps/eKEtRPuhmnt Initially,
the picture of Grandmother Buckner in front of her homestead said
"Beardstown" but I found on the map of Texas that it is actually
Biardstown. I wonder if they actually lived there--I'm still searching
early census info on them.
GLORY, TEXAS. Glory is on Farm Road 1498 nine miles
south of Paris in south Lamar County. It was established in 1880 and
named by post office officials in response to the enthusiastic
description of the area given by store-owner Nick Ratliff, who had
requested the name Richland. The post office operated from 1881 until
1915. By 1884 the community had several businesses, including three
gristmills, a general store, and a blacksmith shop, and shipped cotton,
corn, and wheat. The population was 150 in 1884 but had dropped to
twenty-five by 1890. In 1914 the population was again recorded as 150,
and a Baptist church was located in Glory. In the 1930s the town had
three hotels, rows of dwellings on both sides of the main street, and a
school. It maintained a population of 100 and two businesses until 1950,
when the population fell to fifty. In 1990 Glory had a population of
thirty, a church, and a business. The population remained at thirty in
2000. https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/hng16
BIARDSTOWN, TEXAS. Biardstown is on Farm Road 1497
six miles south of Paris in south central Lamar County. It was
originally called Baird in honor of a founder, John W. Biard,
whose name was miswritten Baird. The post office opened in 1880 as
Baird but was renamed Biard later that year. In 1883 the name was
changed to Biardstown. The following year postmaster W. A. Milling, who
also served as justice of the peace, reported a population of 100. The
town had become important in cotton shipping, and its businesses
included a cotton gin, two flour mills, a general store, two blacksmith
shops, a cobbler's establishment, and two doctor's offices. In 1890 a
new carpenter shop had opened. Two years later the mail was arriving on a
daily basis, and a district school had been organized. Another general
store had opened, and four new physicians had moved to town. Municipal
officials were Sheriff James W. Biard, Justice of the Peace W. C. Gross,
and Constable J. R. Scott. In 1896 the school enrolled seventy-seven
students and employed one teacher.
The number of residents had increased to 163 in 1904, and in 1914 residents had access to a telephone exchange. From 1925 through the 1940s the population was 163; the postal service was discontinued during this period. Maps for 1936 identified two businesses, a school, and a cluster of dwellings. The population peaked in 1950, when the town had 250 residents and eight businesses. By 1957 local students attended school in the Delmar Independent School District. No businesses were reported in 1970, although residents still numbered 250. The population fell by 1974 to seventy-five. Most of these residents were part-time farmers who worked in nearby Paris. In 1984 Biardstown had several dwellings and one church. In 2000 the population was seventy-five. https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/hnb36
Vista K. McCroskey, "BIARDSTOWN, TX," Handbook of Texas Online (http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/hnb36), accessed December 31, 2015. Uploaded on June 12, 2010. Published by the Texas State Historical Association.
The number of residents had increased to 163 in 1904, and in 1914 residents had access to a telephone exchange. From 1925 through the 1940s the population was 163; the postal service was discontinued during this period. Maps for 1936 identified two businesses, a school, and a cluster of dwellings. The population peaked in 1950, when the town had 250 residents and eight businesses. By 1957 local students attended school in the Delmar Independent School District. No businesses were reported in 1970, although residents still numbered 250. The population fell by 1974 to seventy-five. Most of these residents were part-time farmers who worked in nearby Paris. In 1984 Biardstown had several dwellings and one church. In 2000 the population was seventy-five. https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/hnb36
Vista K. McCroskey, "BIARDSTOWN, TX," Handbook of Texas Online (http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/hnb36), accessed December 31, 2015. Uploaded on June 12, 2010. Published by the Texas State Historical Association.
It's a scandal, it's an outrage!
 |
Newspapers.com - The Indianapolis Journal - Thu, Nov 7, 1895 -Page 6 Charles Frederick Koehler and Laura Vance (Buckner) Koehler |
 |
Newspapers.com - The Indianapolis Journal - Sat, Nov 14, 1896 -Page 3 Laura Koehler files lawsuit for support. |
So it looks like in 1896 she filed for support (go Laura!).
 |
Charles Frederick Koehler and Laura Vance (Buckner) Koehler granted divorce. |
The above says:
Tue, Jan 19, 1897, Indianapolis, Indiana
Laura Vance
(Buckner) Koehler wins divorce lawsuit from Charles Frederick Koehler
and $300 alimony. The Indianapolis Journal, 19 Jan 1897.
According to my inflation calculator, $300 then is worth about a little more than $9,000.00 today. That was probably a significant sum. From what I can tell, Charles Koehler went back to Indiana and married Constance Grauel who then had several children. They had a large grocery store there for some time:
 |
Charles F. Koehler obituary with photo, The Indianapolis News, 09 Feb 1938, Wed. |
It looks like Laura Vance never saw him again. It's my guess that Charles Koehler's wife and children never knew about his previous marriage nor child. What we don't know is why he left her? After I finish my mom's search, I plan to do my DNA and figure out if there are still Koehler relatives there in Indiana. I believe there are. As for Laura, it looks like she went between Kentucky and Tennessee running boarding houses. Possibly she owned one? I will have to sleuth that out another day. I do think, though, that Thelma and Marion were only half-siblings since it looks like Charles Koehler was long out of the picture once Thelma came along. Oh, the mysteries of life!
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