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Room 2 at the Hotel Manning

In mid-November my sister made arrangements for us to give some Long Journeys book talks in Iowa. Like me, Lonna grew up in Eastern Idaho, but several years ago she and her husband, Mark, had moved to property near Keosauqua, Iowa, that had once been his family’s summer home. Although only about four miles out of town, the house is secluded, with acres of woodland, its own pond full of fish, and deer and other wildlife roaming freely. It would be our base of operations for the week of the talks, but because it has only one bedroom and no place to house guests, Lonna made a reservation for us to spend our nights at the Manning Hotel in Keosaqua. Knowing my interest in the old hotel, she didn’t even need to consult with me before making the decision to stay there. It was the perfect choice.

When we pulled up in front of the hotel to check in for our first night, we saw a young woman get out of the only other car on the street and walk toward the entrance. As she unlocked the front door, she said she saw us coming and thought she better wait to see if we were the guests she was expecting. We would be the only people in the hotel that night. While she checked us in, gave us our keys and directions to our lodgings – Room 2 at the top of the stairs on the 2nd floor – I asked if the hotel is haunted.

“Well, yes, I think it is,” she said. She explained that until two days earlier she had been living with her two young daughters in an apartment within the hotel. One day she was scolding her six-year-old for not eating the lunch she had prepared and sent with her to school, when a cart with wheels started moving on its own around the kitchen. She said while some of the floors in the old hotel were not level, this was not the case in her kitchen. “There was no reason for that cart to have moved.” I laughed and said the ghost was probably a woman who had lost her own child in a measles epidemic and was angry that she was scolding her daughter for something as trivial as eating her lunch.

“I’m going home now, but if you need anything just call me at this number. I only live a couple of blocks away.” With directions to be sure to take our key with us if we left the hotel – so we could get back in – she was gone and we were, as she had stated, the only ones in the hotel for the night.

We made our way up the steep and squeaky stairs with all our luggage, laptop, snacks, and other essentials, to look for our room. Number 2 was the only room with the door closed and locked. We could have slept in any room on the 2nd floor. It was decorated with vintage wallpaper that was starting to peel, bedspreads to match, antique dressers and washstands, plus it had its own bathroom which Lonna had requested because only eight of the sixteen rooms in the hotel do. There were two queen sized beds. We loved it, slanted floor and all.

We were in a corner room with a balcony running all the way around it and outside lights hanging down from its roof. The two beds had heavy vintage metal frames and were on opposite sides of the room. Mine on an outside wall, with windows facing the DesMoines River; Lonna’s on an inside wall with a door that could be opened to another suite.

We worked on our talk for the following day, compared the books we were reading and laughed about the ghosts and about being, literally, the only people in this lovely old hotel. About 11:00 or so we decided to turn out the lights and go to sleep. The building made the usual creaks and groans of a very old structure, but nothing to be alarmed about. For about 20 minutes . . .

And then there was a loud RAP on the wall right behind Lonna’s head – coming from the room next door with the adjoining doorway – the doorway we hadn’t thought to check to see if it was locked. We were nervous, too nervous to go next door and check on that other room, but not nervous enough to get up and leave the hotel in the middle of the night. We settled back down to sleep again. For about 20 minutes . . .

And that is when the lights hanging over the terrace outside our room got weird. I was facing a window at the front of the building by the side of Lonna’s bed, when those outside lights suddenly got very bright. Lonna swears the lights on the side of the building, by my bed, not only got brighter but turned blue.

We talked about leaving. We could go back to Lonna’s house in the woods; I could sleep on the couch with Hootie the Wiener Dog. Eventually I explained to Lonna that since we can’t touch ghosts, they can’t touch us either, so while they might scare us to death, they probably couldn’t do any more than that. We turned the lights back off and settled down to sleep once again. Eventually we both fell asleep and there were no more disturbances, at least that we were aware of, that night or the following one. We did, however, make the decision to move to a more modern building on property behind the original hotel for the remainder of our time in Keosauqua.

The Manning Hotel was built in the late 1800s, had been sold and renovated in the 1940s, and is currently in the process of being restored by a group of local people who have invested in it. The property includes the original hotel, a newer two-story building and several cabins. The guest rooms in the old hotel are the last to be renovated and appear to be on schedule. Restoration on the main floor has begun and the space is already being used for both public and private events, including a 2019 Halloween ghost tour.

But . . . We are not afraid of ghosts!

Upcoming Events

Hi, this is Michelle I help Myrna with the blog. In our family we have a game that we like to play called, Did You Know. We are always playing. Sometimes you don’t know you playing until you are halfway though the conversation. So here is a smaller version of it.

Did you know that Myrna is going on a small book tour in the Midwest in the next week? If not here is a list of where she will be feel free to stop by and learn more about the amazing journey of this book and say hi.

Monday, November 18 6:30 p.m., Van Buren County Historical Society, Bentonsport, Iowa.  Book signing and presentation

Tuesday, November 19 1:30 p.m., Keosauqua Public Library, Keosauqua, Iowa. Book signing and presentation.

Thursday, November 21, 3:00 p.m., private book club presentation and book signing, Oskaloosa, Iowa

Friday, November 22, 2:30 p.m., private book club presentation and book signing, Pittsburg, Iowa


I shared my growing-up years with 32 cousins, the offspring of the children of Alf and Emily Cramer.  All of the families lived within a 20-mile radius of each other in southeast Idaho. We celebrated birthdays and holidays together at our grandparents’ house, which happened to be next door to my own family home.  We got our hair cuts from one aunt and uncle, eggs and milk from another; when my band instrument disappeared from the music room at Bonneville High School my police detective uncle solved the mystery of the stolen clarinet.  When one aunt’s health was too fragile for her to care for her newborn baby, one of her sisters took the baby girl home for several weeks. My mother and her siblings helped each other any way they could. Our families worked and played, laughed and cried, together.

Last weekend we had a cousin reunion at my home in Idaho Falls.  Since my book Long Journeys is filled with family stories it seemed fitting that the cousins be among the first to get copies of the book and I had promised to distribute them at our reunion.  I ordered them the first day the book was available for purchase through Amazon. Days passed and the message on the Amazon page never changed – Your order has not been processed. I knew several people who had ordered EBooks or individual print books and already received them but my larger order was sitting somewhere in limbo.  My sisters and I had several discussions. Should we postpone the reunion or go ahead and hold it with the possibility of no books? The reunion was scheduled to start at noon on Saturday. Since we had family here from Iowa, Arizona, and Utah, and more arriving from across the state of Idaho it was a huge relief to see the boxes of books stacked on my front porch at 5:00 Friday evening.  Nothing like cutting it close!

I think it’s safe to say that everyone who came had a good time.  Some cousins hadn’t seen each other since we were children. We had some fun discussions based on our memories of those early years in our lives.  Someone asked, what are some life lessons you learned from your parents? One answer: Work hard, use it up, wear it out, make do or do without. That fit our hardworking, frugal families perfectly.

One cousin brought several family treasures to share including Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus suits made by our grandmother for our Christmas Eve celebrations.  This prompted another discussion my sisters and brother and I have already had on numerous occasions. Who played the part of Santa at our parties?

Excerpt from Long Journeys:

Each year after Thanksgiving dinner was finished and the dishes cleared away, names were drawn for Christmas gift exchanges, one for the adults and another for all the cousins.  Christmas Eve together was the highlight of the holiday season for the entire family. There was always a program by the grandchildren, the opening of gifts and a visit from Santa Claus.  In my immediate family we have different recollections of who Santa was in his everyday life. I was quite sure it was a friend of the family – a rather rotund farmer who lived a few miles away.  Reta was equally sure it was Grandpa himself and our brother Lynn is certain it was someone who lived behind the blacksmith shop and drove a rust colored pickup. Lonna doesn’t remember Santa attending our parties.

Conclusions from the reunion discussion:  We all got it right – the answer changed from year to year.  The Santa suits seem to prove that Grandpa and Grandma were indeed Mr. and Mrs. Santa.  But some years they lent the suits to others who didn’t mind spending their Christmas Eve with the Cramer family, including the rotund farmer and the man who lived behind the blacksmith shop and drove an old rust colored pickup.

Even Lonna’s assertion that Santa didn’t attend the parties she attended is likely true.  Several of the other younger cousins don’t remember him being there either.


There is still plenty of work to do before I reach the finish line of a project I have been working on for several years, but today a major hurdle was passed.

Long Journeys, the stories of 7 generations in my family who have preserved and cared for an old book since 1778, is available today at Amazon Books in paperback and EBook.  The hardback version is in its final stages of proofing and will be ready in two to three weeks. A second volume with the revolutionary war records and court cases of the old book is in the works.

It has indeed been a long journey – of research and writing, of travel to find and verify facts, and of time-consuming hours at the computer.  I thought when the stories were finished the work was done, but publishing has been another long process. I was fortunate to find a local publisher to work with who not only helped me through all the stages of getting my manuscript ready to print but also designed the beautiful cover for the book.  More about that later . . .

Right now I am excited, happy, proud, and very, very tired.

An Abundance of Nathaniels

When my granddaughter Megan visted a few weeks ago she went home with a copy of the manuscript for Long Journeys, to read and offer editing advice.  She texted me the following day asking “Is this the same Nathaniel as in the previous story?” She had caught an error in one reading that I had missed in all the times I have read and corrected the stories of the people who cared for John Comins, Junior’s old book.  To make matters worse, I brushed her off with: “Yes, there is a Nathaniel in every branch of the family.”

To me, everything seemed fine with the Nathaniels.  And yes, there are a lot of them in the Tyler family.  Daniel Moroni had a son named Nathaniel, as did his father, the first Daniel in our stories, whose father Andrews had named his first son Nathaniel, after his father Nathaniel, and he after his father Nathaniel, etc. etc., back to 1611 when I found the first Tyler in our line who didn’t name any of his children Nathaniel.  To make matters a little more complicated all the families were large, with 8 to 12 children each, and every line of every family seems to have had, as well as a Nathaniel, a William, a Daniel and an Elizabeth. 

Last week as I completed one last reading before the manuscript was to be submitted for printing the following morning, I finally saw what Megan was referring to.

In the story about the first Daniel Tyler and his wife I had written, “Their son Nathaniel, who was born while Daniel was on his mission, died at 16 years of age from an illness related to diabetes.”  In the story about his son, Daniel Moroni Tyler and his wife, I had written, “Their son Nathaniel died at 16 years of age from an illness related to diabetes.”

Oh No! The Ebook is already available on Kindle and the paper books nearly ready to order.  How would I fix this?

After a few minutes of panic, I went to to see which Nathaniel had died at 16 from a diabetes related illness and then I would decide how to correct the problem.

This is what I learned:

Both those Nathaniels died at a young age, though neither at precisely 16.  

Daniel Tyler’s son was born on August 17, 1853 and died April 28, 1869 – at the age of 15 years, 8 months and 11 days.

Daniel Moroni Tyler’s son, William Nathaniel, was born May 31, 1882 and died January 7, 1897 – at the age of 14 years, 7 months and 7 days.

Of even more interest, they both could very well have died from an illness related to diabetes.

I had originally obtained my information from old family histories passed down from my grandmother Emily Tyler Cramer and simply hadn’t noticed that the information was written identically for each of the boys.  In a history written by her about her parents she said of her older brother, “After a few days illness with diabetes, Nathaniel died January 7, 1897.” Family Search has an obituary of the earlier Nathaniel showing he died of gangrene.  In the days before antibiotics an abrasion caused by diabetes could easily turn to gangrene.

I made a couple of small changes to the stories and let them be.

Long Journeys is available now through Amazon Kindle E-Books.  The paper-back version is just a few days away and will be available either from Amazon or directly from me.  The beautiful hard back book will be available in 2-3 weeks exclusively from me. Watch for my next blog with specifics.

2019 – The Year With No Summer

Spring didn’t come to Eastern Idaho this year until the end of May. Or maybe it was June? I did notice that my condo got kind of hot toward the middle of July (when my heat and air guy got too busy to install air conditioning), but that only lasted a few weeks. Now it’s the 1 st of September and leaves are falling from the trees in my back yard. It’s fall already! What happened to summer?

 Long Journeys happened. I learned that the publishing process of a book can take almost as long as the writing process.
 A Fall happened. A freak little accident in my driveway required the use of a walker and cane and kept me confined, mostly to the house, for several
weeks. Fortunately, I could work at the computer during most of that time
and my sister came to help, so dishes got washed, groceries purchased and
progress on Long Journeys continued.
 A Celebration happened. After the fall my family debated cancelling the
surprise party they had been planning for my June birthday. Fortunately,
since I was in a largely incapacitated stage of recovery, they saved the
“Surprise!” part of my party until I was sitting down and the hated walker
hidden away.
 Company happened. I have had guests at my home most of the summer. In spite of hobbling around with a bad hip, no air-conditioning, unfinished remodeling projects, and non-existent hostess skills, people came. I wouldn’t have given up a single visitor. From family – kids, grandkids, siblings, nieces and nephews – to an old college roommate I hadn’t seen in years – each and every visit was wonderful!

Although summer seems to have passed without my realizing it, plans for the weeks ahead are exciting. Long Journeys will be printed and available soon. A follow-up book containing the Revolutionary War records and New York court cases contained in the old book written by my ancestor, John Comins, Jr., will be close behind it. This journey of my own through research and writing, although it has a mind of its own,
appears to be nearing its end. Time will tell.

Excerpt from Revolutionary War Records

Where The Stork Drops You

My youngest sister Lonna, although she loves us and our huge extended family, likes to joke that the stork made a mistake when he delivered her to our home in Idaho.  She says he left her in Southeast Idaho with the Mormons when she was destined to be in Southeast Iowa with Methodists. After visiting Iowa and Illinois from her home in Keosauqua, Iowa to research the history of our ancestors, we discovered just how close we all came to that destination.  Keosauqua is just an hour’s drive from the old Mormon city of Nauvoo, Illinois.

Mormon settlers moving west from Utah in the late 1800s established the small Idaho community we grew up in.  Our grandparents had been early settlers to the area, with our grandmother arriving as a child and our grandfather at the age of 18.  Along with most of their siblings they spent the rest of their lives there, so the little town and the farm area around it were full of our relatives.  We grew up hearing the stories of our ancestors joining the Mormon church and facing the hardships they endured to stay with the church. If I thought about it at all I assumed everyone in our family were long-standing members.  There were just too many of us for it to have been any other way and the church was so intertwined with every part of our lives that nothing else was even considered.

The research trips my sisters and I took to Illinois proved otherwise.  We were totally surprised to learn that most of the members of our Tyler family left the church  after the troubles in Missouri.

We knew that our ancestor Elizabeth Tyler, along with her husband Andrews and their 10 children had joined the church started by Joseph Smith, in Erie County, Pennsylvania in 1832.  (At the time it was called the Church of Christ, but within a few years the name had been changed to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). Elizabeth and her family followed the church and its leaders to Kirtland, Ohio and then two years later to Far West, Missouri.  When the Mormons were expelled from the state of Missouri they travelled about 200 miles eastward to cross the Mississippi River into Illinois.  

Elizabeth’s husband Andrews and her 18 year-old son Comfort died along the wagon trail between Kirtland, Ohio and Far West Missouri.  Of the remaining nine children in her family only my great-great-grandfather Daniel Tyler and his sister Almina Tyler Behunin stayed with the LDS church and moved west to Utah and Idaho.  Elizabeth’s other children all stayed in Illinois, with the four youngest settling in the town of Richfield. Records of the Richfield Methodist Church show Elizabeth’s family as founding members.  Her daughter-in-law Clarissa, widow of Nathaniel, and Clarissa’s brother Alvin Hartshorn, donated the land on which the church, which is still in service today, was built. 

Had Daniel Tyler chosen to stay in Illinois with the rest of his family or had we descended from any of the other seven sons of Elizabeth and Andrews Tyler we could indeed have been dropped by the stork with Methodists, either in Iowa or an hour away in Illinois.

Excerpt from Long Journeys:

This excerpt contains a portion of a letter Daniel Tyler received from his niece Polly Tyler Young in 1874 telling him of the death and funeral of his brother Hyram.  It also tells about another of our small miracles as Lonna and I met with Carolyn Oitger in Richfield, Illinois. 

Richfield Ills. March 28 

Dear Uncle

I have to write to you the sad news that Hyram is no more in this world.  He died Wednesday morning (26th) just sun rising.  We buried him yesterday after noon – We had his funeral preached in the M E Chapel here by a Duncard minister – an old friend of Hyrams  — I did not realize before the friends he had – the largest funeral that has been in this place for years. . . . . While we feel sad and cannot help but mourn we know he is better now in the hands of a merciful father.  We know our heavenly father has a home for him – that he is no longer a wanderer and homeless.

November 2017

Marcia [owner and publisher of the Liberty Bee Times, Liberty, Illinois] phoned the woman’s sister, told her who we were and that we were looking for information on the Tyler family.  Amazingly, Carolyn Oitger agreed to meet us an hour later at the Richfield Methodist church.

When Carolyn got out of her car to take us inside the church her hands were full of papers and books.  She had copied several pages of information for us before leaving her home. We learned that Clarissa Tyler, Elizabeth’s daughter-in-law, and her brother Alvin Hartshorn had donated the land this little white Methodist church had been built on in 1859 and were among the founding members of the congregation.  Across the road from the church is a house that was originally the store her husband Nathaniel Tyler established in 1845 and which Clarissa ran for many years after his death. It had also served as the Richfield Post Office with Clarissa the Postmistress for the community. 

We had been in the church with Carolyn for at least an hour looking at pictures, newspaper articles and church scrapbooks when she took us on a tour of the building.  As we walked into the chapel (sanctuary), I realized this was where Uncle Hyram’s funeral had been held. Less than a mile away, Carolyn had grown up in a house built by Ira Tyler.

Notes: Polly Tyler Young was the daughter of Nathaniel and Clarissa Tyler and the granddaughter of Elizabeth Tyler. Hyram Tyler was Elizabeth’s son; there is no record indicating he was ever married.  M E Chapel is Methodist Episcopal. The Dunkards were early German Baptists. They were called Dunkards because of their belief in baptism by immersion. Ira Tyler was another of Elizabeth’s sons. He was a state senator and for many years served as chairman of the Adams County Board of Supervisors.  He married Martha Ann Cook. I find all of this particularly fascinating as Lonna attends a Methodist Church in Iowa and many of my Arkansas friends are members of that denomination.


Attached to the back cover of the old book written by John Comins, Jr. is a page that appears to have been cut from another book or magazine.  It includes a table of interest at 7 per cent, a table for calculating expenses, some advice on growing rich and a recipe for yeast. Because the interest and expense charts were computed in guineas, pounds, shillings and pence rather than dollars and cents it would appear John glued this to the book soon after he started using it in 1778.  Whether he gave the recipe for yeast to his bride Elizabeth Whiten is a matter for speculation. 

At the top of the expense chart is the heading: Table of Expenses, &c.  Highly important to every individual and family; and so easy to be understood as to need no explaining.  This advice appears at the bottom of the chart: The way to grow rich, and to enjoy health and reputation – is to stick close to business, and not to let your expenses exceed your income.

Receipt for making Yeast
The useful article of yeast, of which there is frequently a scarcity in this country is thus prepared on the coast of Persia – Take a small teacup or wineglass full of split or broiled peas, pour on it a pint of boiling water, and set the whole in a vessel on the hearth all night, or any other warm place; the  water will have froth on its top the next morning, which will be good yeast. Mr. Eaton, when in Persia, had his Bread made with this Yeast, and in the English manner, of good Wheat flour.  In our cold climate, especially in a cold season, it should stand longer to ferment, perhaps four and twenty hours – –  Of all methods of making Yeast, hitherto known, this is by far the most simple and commodious.

For being 240 years old this page is quite clear and the perfect lesson for anyone who might like to tackle transcribing. 

My first attempt at the yeast recipe read like this: The ufeful article of Yeaft of which there is frequently a fearcity in this Country is thus prepared on the craft of Perfia. I hadn’t yet learned that if you see a letter that looks like an F it is probably an s.

Next I spent a long time studying the symbols for English currency shown on the charts.  Is that a g or a q before the pound symbol?  S makes sense for shillings but why would Pence be shortened to a D?  These questions had to be researched.  I think I got the answers right, but feel free to correct me if not.

£ is the symbol for Pound.  Derived from the Latin word Libra

s is the symbol for shillings.  Derived from the Latin word Solidus

d is the symbol for pence.  Derived from the Latin word Denarius

g or gn is the symbol for guinea.  Named for the Guinea Coast which was famed for its gold.  A Guinea was equal to 1 pound and 1 shilling and was made of gold.

I tried to find a Mr. Eaton who had lived on the Coast of Persia and possibly wrote magazine or newspaper articles, but was not successful.


When I started transcribing the pages of my ancestor’s old handwritten book and then decided to write the stories of the people in my family who have cared for it, I considered the project to be something only my family and a few friends would be interested in. I come from a large family and I have a lot of friends so that’s no small matter, but let’s face it, we’re probably not talking about a world-wide best seller.  So it seemed obvious that this book of family and church history would need to be self-published. Like every other part of this long journey, publishing was more complicated than I anticipated.

I had to decide whether to include the pictures and transcriptions of the old ledger itself with the book of stories or in a separate volume.  I would need someone to design the cover. I thought from the recommendation of a writer I met in Nauvoo, Illinois that I knew which online publisher I would use, but with the help of my assistant (and niece) Michelle, started comparing it with other sites before making a definite decision.  I attended a writers conference in Boise to gain some knowledge about this final step in writing. Although I “pitched” my book to an agent at the conference we both knew that was not the right approach for this book.

Each avenue I approached taught me a little more about publishing, but left me more confused about what I should do.  As had happened so many other times through this long journey, another small miracle came along to push me in the right direction.  My sister Lonna came from Iowa to Idaho to visit and help finish the final details of the book: a timeline, the bibliography, foot and end notes, etc.  While she was here a friend of hers came to visit and the conversation turned to publishing the book. The friend had worked for a local publisher for many years.  Although publishing books has not been a part of the business, Lonna’s friend knew that the owner of the company has published several books of his own and asked him to meet with me.  As soon as we started talking I knew this company would provide the solution I was looking for. I have someone local to work with but still have complete control throughout the process.  The publisher will design the cover based on my preferences. They have the expertise and equipment to produce beautiful pictures. We will have a paperback version available both locally and through Amazon and a beautiful hardback produced here in Idaho.  A second book containing the Revolutionary War records and Herkimer County Court Cases will be published later. I am working with people I like! What more could you ask?

More information to come but I anticipate the paperbacks to be available in about 30 days and the hardbacks within 60.  

Today’s Excerpt from Long Journeys was chosen to show the size of my extended family and the close relationships we shared.  My grandparents, Alfred and Emily Cramer, had eight children and 32 grandchildren. I would guess that 100 is a low estimate of great-grandchildren and I won’t even speculate on the number of great-greats.

Emily and Rozilla [her daughter] had always enjoyed handwork, crocheting, sewing, knitting and quilting.  Now they were off the farm they had more time for these activities. They started making quilts to sell, getting orders from people all over the United States; others sent their pieced tops to be quilted and the edges finished.  While Emily and Rozilla quilted, Alf cut new blocks and kept extra needles threaded. Like her father Rozilla kept excellent records. Her diaries show they made 1,505 quilts over a period of twenty years, averaging 75 per year and three or four each week.  Emily once said she figured they made about 5 cents per hour for their nine- to fifteen-hour days of quilting. 

Those numbers did not include quilts for the family.  They had started making a quilt for each granddaughter’s sixteenth birthday, with Emily worrying they wouldn’t be able to finish all of them.  In fact, they not only finished quilts for the granddaughters but for the grandsons as well, all 32 of us. When at the end of her life Grandma couldn’t see well enough to quilt there were still two to be finished and one to be replaced as one granddaughter had lost hers in a house fire.  The daughters got together to make these final quilts, completing the last one for the youngest grandson on the day before Emily’s funeral.


In my last post I told you my sisters look askance at my self-proclaimed ability to interpret dreams.  We laugh about it – Lonna reads palms and Myrna interprets dreams – but each of these pursuits has a certain amount of credibility.

I have several friends in Arkansas, where I lived for a few years, who study dream interpretation.  Hearing about things they learned through dreams made me more conscious of my own nocturnal meanderings and messages.  I have come to believe that vivid dreams, the ones that don’t float away unremembered the moment I open my eyes, may contain a message my subconscious is trying to tell me.  Books and web sites about dream interpretation explain a kind of universal meaning behind many of the symbols in people’s dreams. When I mentioned to one of my Arkansas friends that I was tired of working all night doing endless loads of laundry and cleaning dirty, cluttered houses she told me a house or home in your dreams may represent your own self and to think of things in my life that I need to be working on.  I discovered that each time I dreamed of cleaning all night there was some project in my real life that I was neglecting and needed to finish. As I completed a neglected piece of writing, home or craft project, or whatever else I was in the middle of, the dreams of cleaning went away. After one episode of cleaning for several nights in a row I dreamed I had a huge building to work on, starting on the top floor and working my way down.  To my relief every room was immaculate from top to bottom. Apparently, whatever real life project I had neglected was now under control.

The dream about lost packages in Illinois cornfields was so obvious it required no study at all.  We had missed something in that day of searching old records in Quincy. We had to go back and look again.

We started our second day in Quincy, at the Adams County Historical Society where archivist and historian Jean Kay met us at the door.  Jean was our next miracle. Through her guidance and vast knowledge of the history of that area we learned more about our ancestor Elizabeth’s family (those who had not followed the Latter-day Saint church to Utah) than we had been able to find in two years of computer research.  After several hours of work she sent us on our way with pages of photocopied documents and a detailed map to the Franks Cemetery where many of the Tyler family are buried.

Excerpt from Long Journeys:
Through Jean’s guidance we learned that Elizabeth’s children had been a prominent family in the area of Richfield, Illinois, a small community southeast of Quincy.  They were farmers, soldiers, a legislator, storekeepers, and for many years the town postmaster or postmistress, depending on who was running the Tyler store at the time.  One granddaughter, Nathaniel’s daughter Polly Young, was reportedly so “lucky” in her business dealings that others copied her, hoping her luck would rub off on them. Elizabeth’s sons Ira, Urial and Henry served in the Union army during the Civil War.  Ira spent 18 months as a prisoner of the Confederacy.

Reta and Myrna at Franks Cemetery, Richfield Illinois
Reta and Myrna at Franks Cemetery, Richfield Illinois