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Posts tagged ‘Tyler family genealogy’

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

HOW TO GET RICH or MAKE YOUR OWN YEAST

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.

PUBLISHING

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.

INTERPRETING DREAMS & MORE SMALL MIRACLES

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

Small Miracles

My sisters and I were a bit naïve when we headed off to Nauvoo, Illinois expecting to find easily accessible information about our ancestors, and more specifically our third-great-grandmother Elizabeth Tyler. Surely a few hours perusing records at the Family History Center and the Land Record Office would unravel some of her secrets. We might find her name on old census or tax records. We could find a deed for land she had purchased or discover her name on a headstone in the pioneer cemetery. After a full day of searching we had no new information about Elizabeth or anyone else in the family. To make matters worse, we had missed the Nauvoo tourist season and there wasn’t a restaurant in the entire town that was open for dinner. We ate convenience store pizza in our room at an old pioneer home that has been converted to an Inn.


The next morning we headed out early for Missouri hoping our luck would be better in Far West, another Mormon settlement area and one we knew Elizabeth had lived in. It took almost no time at all for us to discover we were lost in an Illinois cornfield.


It seemed we were off to another bad start but sometimes you just have to maintain a little faith. Faith in our GPS Marvin, faith that we would eventually emerge from corn into civilization and faith that some trace of Elizabeth would be found. And then our first tiny miracle appeared – a crossroads in the middle of the corn fields with a sign pointing east toward Lima, the town near which Elizabeth’s son Daniel had purchased a small farm in 1842. A consultation with SIRI confirmed that Marvin did indeed know where we were headed, cornfield or not. His chiding, “I could tell you but you wouldn’t listen” was spot on. We followed his directions to Quincy, Illinois.


The County Clerk’s office at the Adams County Courthouse in Quincy is filled with old handwritten record books and a competent staff happy to help you find the information you need. We didn’t find Elizabeth herself but we did find deeds of property purchased by her sons Nathaniel and Ira and two marriage certificates of her youngest son Henry, one when he was 22 and the other at 53 years of age. We found it interesting that a man by the name of John Quincy had helped Ira buy land in Adams County and had also officiated at Henry’s second wedding many years later. A visit to the Quincy Public Library gave us information about a cemetery with several Tyler headstones.

It had been a long and exciting day. We found a hotel, a nice restaurant for dinner and put off visiting the Franks Cemetery and then Far West, Missouri for another day.

Excerpt from Long Journeys
A vivid dream became our next small miracle. In the dream I had a contract to deliver bundles of mail and packages along the same cornfield-lined gravel roads we had traveled earlier that day. I had been delivering the packages all day and was tired and relieved to be finished when I found a stack of them on top of my car. Not knowing how many packages might have fallen off the car as I was driving I would have to go back and retrace the entire route. I woke up thinking, “We missed something. We have to go back and look again..” My sisters agreed that we could spend another day in Quincy even though they generally look askance at my self- proclaimed talent for interpreting dreams. We looked in the phone directory for museums and historical groups and continued our search.

THE JOURNEY BEGINS – A ROAD TRIP

There is a notation in the front of the old book John Comins used to record his Revolutionary War and New York Justice Court records that was written by his grandson Daniel Tyler.  This inscription, along with family stories I later found, led me to the realization that this 240 year old book I have been working on could not have reached my hands without travelling the entire route of the Mormon trail, from Kirtland, Ohio and Far West Missouri to Nauvoo, Illinois and on to Utah.

In one of my earliest online searches for John’s daughter Elizabeth Comins and her husband Andrews Tyler I discovered that they joined the Mormon church in 1832 while living in Erie County, Pennsylvania.  They were very early converts to the church started by Joseph Smith.  They followed the church to Kirtland, Ohio and then two years later to Far West, Missouri, always keeping the book with them among their other possessions.

I learned from histories written by Elizabeth’s son Daniel and his wife Ruth that Andrews died along the trail between Kirtland and Far West, leaving Elizabeth responsible for her family in a mostly hostile area of the country, with limited funds remaining.  Three weeks later her 18 year-old son Comfort also died.

I wanted to know more but there was little additional information available.  When my sister Lonna suggested we visit the area to see what we could find I agreed without hesitation; we quickly convinced Reta, the other sister in our family, to go along.  I flew from Idaho Falls and Reta from Phoenix; Lonna picked us up at the DesMoines, Iowa airport.  Nauvoo, Illinois is just an hour’s drive from her home in Keosauqua, Iowa.  Reta and Lonna have been my steadfast supporters in this quest to research and write the stories of the old book.  They have listened, critiqued, and edited my work each step of the way.  We were all excited about taking this trip together.

Our first day and night, spent in Nauvoo, were interesting but provided little new information about Elizabeth or her family.  The next morning we had planned a quick tour of Hannibal, Missouri before going on to Far West to find the small farm we knew she had purchased there.

Like many good plans this one disintegrated soon after it began.

Excerpt from Long Journeys: Three women, sisters who will barely admit their ages, yet sport hairstyles in colors from the earliest stages of gray to pure white, are forced to admit they may be lost in an Illinois corn field.  Their road is unpaved, surfaced with coarse white gravel; tall fields of corn crowd the narrow one-lane thoroughfare on either side.  Rather than turn around and backtrack the road they decide to continue a while longer.  They come to an intersection with road signs and sigh in unison to discover they are still in civilization. 

One of the signs points east to Lima.  They find a wide spot in the road and pull over to consult Marvin, the GPS they have named for the manically depressed android of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.  “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.” Earlier that morning they had programmed Marvin to guide them from Nauvoo, Illinois to Hannibal, Missouri, a seemingly simple task.  Yet here they are between huge fields of corn on the wrong side of the Mississippi with no other vehicle in sight.