Genealogy R Us

I have long been fascinated by the story of my maternal great-great-grandparents. He was a Civil War soldier. She was a housewife and mother of eight. He came home after the war, re-upped as a veteran volunteer for another year, then came home again. A few months later, he left town (Peoria, IL) looking for work. Awhile after that, he left for the Dakota Territory (frontier back then), supposedly to herd cattle. He wrote to her saying he would be home on July, 4, 1867...and she never heard from him again. She wrote letters and advertised in newspapers in South Dakota, to no avail. A man from there showed up on her doorstep with some of her husband's things, saying that he had been with her husband when he was shot and killed by Indians. The man said he had helped to bury him. Then the guy took off with no further contact.

She did her best to finish raising her family without a skill. Times were hard. Eventually, she ended up living with her youngest daughter in Wisconsin. Toward the turn of the century, the government passed a bill that allowed widows of war veterans to receive a pension, so she applied. Since she could not prove that her husband was dead, the Bureau of Pensions appointed a Special Examiner to look into her case. It was now at least 30 years after the Civil War. Relatives and friends were called in to give depositions to determine if anyone knew of any reason that he would abandon her, and inquiries were written to the Dakota Territory to see if anyone had any information about her husband's untimely demise. (The depositions--all in the Archives of the Pension Bureau, and now in the clutches of the family, all provide insight into the personal lives of David and Bethsheba McKinney!) In short, there were some cloudy issues surrounding about some letters that he had supposedly received from some woman in Ohio, the fact that Bethsheba was a "strong minded" woman, etc., but no one had any reason to believe that he would just take off. Nor was there any evidence that he was actually dead.

As far as I can figure, the inquiries went on for at least six years. Finally, somehow, it was determined that hubby was alive and collecting his own pension in Grant's Pass, Oregon. The Wisconsin daughter was dispatched to Oregon to bring the now-old man home, and his wife and family took him back. They lived out the end of their lives in a home for indigent veterans and spouses in King, Wisconsin. In connecting with another faction of the family, I have pictures. All evidence indicates that Great-Great-Grandpa did, indeed, abandon his family!!!!

With that as background, I should say that my own research into this story has been going on for over 35 years. Before the Internet and PCs, I was relegated to obtaining what information I could at the mercy of genealogists via snail mail. I had already accessed records at the National Archives with no knowledge that there were well over 200 pages of documents at the Bureau of Pensions. So many more things have been available via the Internet!

One of the pictures that I have is of my great-great-grandparents in their old age, sitting on the lip of a very distinctive fountain somewhere. He is in his Civil War uniform; she is wearing a very Victorian dowager's black dress and hat. The fountain is quite unique. I would love to find it and sit on the edge, as they did! I fear it no longer exists but am not sure, at this point. Megan--my seasoned genealogist daughter--started looking for it. We don't have any definitive answers yet. It did prompt Meg to start a website to help us sort out information, which launched me into renewed interest to transcribe documents that we have. It absolutely absorbs me!

Why am I writing about this? Because it explains my total waste of time for the last two days! It takes me away from the mess and the depression and the hurt for a few hours. I most likely will never have all of the story of my g-g-grandparents' lives, but the search is fascinating. It explains so much about my grandmother--a person whom I adored. (That's a whole different fascinating story!)

I will not survive long enough to have great-grandchildren. I started my family too late for that. There will be no military records in the National Archives to testify to my existence. Census records no longer contain information that is helpful to descendants wishing to know more about their ancestors. My tombstone, if there is one, will only bear witness to the day I was born and the day I died. (We still haven't put one up for my brother...) What a life of love, learning, caring, sharing, successes, failures, struggles, dreams, and disappointments comes between those two dates! I will continue to write my memoirs, hoping to know what is too much information and what is okay for my descendants to know. Our stories only last one generation....maybe. I have no clue how I will be remembered. My daughter (my only child) is still angry that I kicked her out of the house when she gave up her children. My grandchildren (the loves of my life) probably don't understand anything that happened to them. Maybe it's best that we don't get it!

A few years ago, I stood at the grave of Joseph Armstrong in Pennsylvania--a man I thought to be a great+something grandparent--and told him that I hoped he was proud of his family because we turned out pretty well. (Found out later that he was merely a great+something uncle.) Still, the sentiment was the same.

Now, I need to figure out how to get all of my housework done. Getting through the genealogy stuff is consuming!!