I see myself as somewhat of a family historian, my dad’s youngest brother is also one as was my Grandpa Pete’s cousin Marvin. Seems to be only one per generation in our family. I can bore just about anyone to tears with information I’ve dug up on Ancestry, My Heritage, Family Search and various other data sites. My father refused to go cemetery hopping with me this year because he has field work to do and no time for my meandering for hours. His words were along the line of, I want to go and visit the few I go to see and go home and not wander the entire cemetery. Ugh, parents…what do you do with them?
Ruby insisted I not leave her home although it was 90+ degrees outside, we didn’t get very far. She’s here visiting with my Great Great Uncle Tage.
This man, I wish I could have really known, he passed when I was three. The stories we’ve been told about this man, feel we could have been kindred spirits.
Uncle Tage came to America in May 1917 along with his sister (my great grandmother) and her husband. Shortly after settling down in Iowa he was drafted into WWI, my mother has said he was fiercely proud of his having fought for his new country…was even buried in his uniform.
(Great Great Uncles Otto and Conrad, Great Great Grandfather Conrad and Great Great Uncle Tage)
Tage never married, worked as a hired man for my Great Grandfather and one of his brothers. My Oma used to say that he would get down on the floor and play with her and her siblings and was much more fun than their father…once they asked their mother (Tage’s sister) why they married their dad when Tage was much more fun…and that they obviously didn’t understand.
Over the years since learning more and more about this precious man, I’ve made a point to visit with him from time to time…there’s just something about him that draws me to him.