Friday, July 30, 2010

Sisters
















I am always fascinated at the changes age brings to the faces of individuals, especially from child to adult and from adult to old age. These are the child-to-adult faces of my mom, Audrey Meinzen Doyle, and her sister, Geraldine (who chose to use "Jeree" instead) Meinzen Todd Foulk.

Jeree, on the left, was born in November, 1918, and is about 8 in this photo. On the far right is Audrey, born in June, 1915, and is about 14 here.

I suspect the center photo was taken in about 1936, when Jeree was about 18 and Audrey about 21.

I found this tiny (1 1/4" x 1 3/4") photo when looking through my grandmother's album and immediately loved it. I like Aunt Jeree's hair style and how her eyes make contact with me through the lens of the camera. She began wearing glasses as a child but chose not to wear them in either of these photographs. I also think the matching coats they are wearing are interesting.

Do you like to compare photos of people as they age? Do you have school and young adult photos of people you know and love?


I invite you to go to the Sepia Saturday blog to find out how to view others' Sepia Saturday posts, or join in yourself.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Turning Six



My grand-nephew, Jacob, is turning 6 today, July 28th.

It will be exciting times for him when he starts school this year.


Happy Birthday, Jacob!

Sunday, July 25, 2010

How His Surname Passed Away

My great-grandfather, Henry Meinzen, was born on July 25, 1837, in Hannover, Prussia.

Henry and his wife Elizabeth Armitage had 15 children. Seven of those children (and possibly another infant) were males. You would think with 7 sons in the family, the family name would continue for generations. Not so for Henry. This is what happened with Henry's sons.

Son #1: Henry Carl was born September 25, 1870, and died on August 11, 1958
He had 2 sons and 6 daughters. Both sons died in infancy.

Son #2: William was born in 1872 and died on November 4, 1888, at the age of 16 of typhoid fever.
He had no children.

Son #3: Edward was born March 5, 1879, and died on November 15, 1911. He never married.
He had no children.

Son #4: Walter was born on November 13, 1882. He married on June 28, 1906, and died on May 31, 1907, in an ugly factory accident.
He had no children.

Son # 5: William Carl Robert was born on February 8, 1892.
He had 4 daughters and no sons.

Son #6: Jacob Increase was born on December 15, 1893. He married on September 4, 1916 and died on September 12, 1917, in a horrible factory accident.
He had 1 daughter.

Son #7: Carl Nelson was born September 3, 1896 and died 11 days later on September 14.

Only 2 of Henry's sons (Henry and W. C. Robert) were alive when he died, and only 6 of his children outlived him. While Henry has many, many descencants, both male and female, the only ones from his line with his surname are females who do not carry on the Meinzen name.

Since today is Grampa Henry's birthday I want to honor him and commemorate his birth. With so many descendants, Grampa, you should be celebrated royally. Happy Birthday!

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The Rotary Telephone, the Cock-Eyed Photograph, & the Little Table with Twisted Legs

The Rotary Telephone
Do you remember rotary dial telephones? I'm sure some of you do.... Those old telephones were black and heavy, and they limited how far from the phone one could move when talking because the cord connecting the phone to the wall was so short.

Some of you must remember party lines. Two or more households shared the same line. Each household had a specific ring to know when the phone was for someone at their house. One ring, two rings, a short ring and a long ring, etc.

Sometimes someone in one house would pick up the phone to make a call and find that someone was already talking. If the new caller held the phone too long, listening, she would usually be asked (or told) to hang up because it was a private conversation. I'm sure the party lines contributed to lots of gossip in smaller communities.

The Cock-Eyed Photograph
Who took this photo and how did the photographer manage to take it at this angle? What was he/she thinking?!

I tried to straighten it but found it gave me a headless child and one with half a head. I decided to present it the way it is. I think it's the most crooked photograph I've ever seen.

It seems strange to me that I found copies of it in both my mother's and my grandmother's albums. This photo was taken many years before it was common to have multiple sets of prints made before seeing the photographs. Someone liked this photo enough to find the negative, travel back to the photo shop (or wherever photos were made in the 1940's) and have duplicates printed. I guess it must be as much of a treasure to me as it was to them since I've made a digital copy.

The Little Table with Twisted Legs
When my mother passed away a dozen years ago, my siblings and I met at her home to decide what to do with her furniture and the rest of her possessions. She had a small, light-weight table with twisted legs that I claimed. My brother-in-law pointed out that one of the legs was broken and had been glued out of alignment, and he suggested that maybe I didn't really want it. But I did and said I'd like the table if no one else wanted it. I brought it home and we use it now and then, here and there. Yes, it wobbles a little but not so bad that I can't live with it.

In going through the two old albums, I recognized the little table in this snapshot as the very one I brought home from Mom's house.

And so the treasures are the cock-eyed photograph with the rotary phone, two sweet children, and the knowledge that the little table with twisted legs belonged to my grandmother before it belonged to my mother before it belonged to me.

Do you want to share memories of using a rotary telephone, with or without a party line? Do you have a piece of furniture whose history you can trace to someone before you?

Go to Sepia Saturday and find links to photos and stories that are treasured by others.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Could I Have Done It? How About You?

A few weeks ago, Kerry at Clue Wagon recommended some books for summer reading. One of them was Letters of a Woman Homesteader by Elinore Pruitt Stewart. I'd just finished another book and since the library had it, I borrowed and read it.

Elinore moved to Burnt Fork, Wyoming, in 1909, along with her young daughter, Jerrine, to become housekeeper for a rancher, Clyde Stewart. She claimed property of her own adjacent to Clyde's property, they married, and she built a house that adjoined his. While most of her letters tell only bits and pieces of the work she did and much about events and activities in and around the community of Burnt Fork, her last letter told why she thought ranching was a good choice for a woman in 1913 or 1914 and she described her success. She wrote, “I never did like to theorize, and so this year I set out to prove that a woman could ranch if she wanted to.” She went on to explain how she grew potatoes on new ground, then planted a vegetable garden of almost an acre. Her letter continues,

We had all the vegetables we could possibly use, and now Jerrine and I have put in our cellar full, and this is what we have: one large bin of potatoes (more than two tons), half a ton of carrots, a large bin of beets, one of turnips, one of onions, one of parsnips, and on the other side of the cellar we have more than one hundred heads of cabbage. I have experimented and found a kind of squash ... that keep well and makes good pies; also that the young tender ones make splendid pickles, quite equal to cucumbers.... They told me when I came that I could not even raise common beans, but I tried and succeeded. And also I raised lots of green tomatoes.... Experimenting along another line, I found that I could make catchup, as delicious as that of tomatoes, of gooseberries.... Gooseberries were very plentiful this year so I put up a great many. I milked ten cows twice a day all summer; have sold enough butter to pay for a year’s supply of flour and gasoline. We use a gasoline lamp. I have raised enough chickens to completely renew my flock, and all we wanted to eat, and have some fryers to go into the winter with. I have enough turkeys for all of our birthdays and holidays.

I raised a great many flowers and I worked several days in the field. In all I have told about I have had no help but Jerrine.... Many of my neighbors did better than I did, although I know many people would doubt my doing so much, but I did it. I have tried every type of work this ranch affords, and I can do any of it. Of course I am extra strong, but those who try know that strength and knowledge come with doing....
I found Elinore in the 1910 census on Heritage Quest. She was 33 and already married to Clyde, age 42. Her daughter, Jerrine, was 4 years old, and Elinore had a 2-month-old baby, James. They were living in Burnt Fork, Sweetwater, Wyoming.

Could I succeed now as Elinore did then? I don't think so. Would I have succeeded then, had I been alive? I'd like to think so, but I'm not sure.


Prior to reading Letters, I read Women’s Diaries of the Westward Journey by Lillian Schlissel. Schlissel studied more than 100 different women's pioneer journals, remembrances, and letters to find similarities in the their experiences. The results of her study comprises the first half of the book. The second half of the book contains the individual journals, diaries, and remembrances of about 15 women who made the westward trek.

I tell you, those ladies were strong! Strong! They lived through days of continuous, unending rain and days of temperatures above 100 degrees in the shade. They cooked over smoky fires and tried to keep fires going in the rain. They saw children run over by wagons and men sucked into the water while crossing rivers. They gave birth to babies - having travelled while pregnant - or assisted women giving birth. They dealt with serious illnesses themselves and/or nursed their families. They buried children and husbands. Often they counted the graves by the side of the trail. But they kept going, day after day, sometimes only 12 or 15 or 18 miles each day. When they arrived in Oregon or California, there was often nothing there. Their destinations were usually not homes, but barren land where they intended to build homes. One woman recorded that her husband drove her to their land, whereon sat a tiny sod hut, and asked her if that wasn't the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

I have no known pioneer ancestors of the westward movement, with their unique challenges. But in many ways, I think all immigrants of years ago faced unique and difficult challenges: the uncertainty and difficulty of the journey; illness; inconvenience and possibly outright hardship; separation from family and familiar surroundings; and acclimating themselves to new and different environments. I'm grateful for my ancestors who ventured forth to new lands, especially to America. I admire their stamina, determination, courage.

Could I do it? Could I have done it? Would I have been brave and strong and willing? I would like to think so, but I just don't know....

How about you?

--Nancy.
.

Monday, July 19, 2010

My Mother's Sister



My Aunt Dot, my mother's only living sister, is celebrating her birthday today.

She is a very dear aunt to me. She and her family lived in the Ridge until I was in 2nd or 3rd grade and she was better than a second mother to me. I spent many happy hours at her home.

I love this photo. If you enlarge it you can see how beautiful she is -- very stylish and glamorous!

I hope you have a wonderful birthday, Aunt Dot!

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Ian Turns Four




Ian is my brother's grandson.

He turns 4 today.

He's bright and personable and loves to spend time with his grandparents. Doesn't he look like he's ready for fun?!

Happy, Happy Birthday, Ian!

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Some Fellow


I say, this fellow sure looks like a character to me. There he is with his thumbs hooked under his armpits, a pipe in his mouth, knee-high boots, and, well, look at that expression on his face! (If you didn't know it, you can click on the photo to enlarge it in a window by itself. Click on it again and it should enlarge even more. When you're finished looking click the back arrow in your browser window.)

This fellow is my father, Lee Doyle, probably when he was about 18 or 20. This photo was taken sometime before he left the farm in Stoneboro, Pennsylvania, in 1934. I wish I knew who took it.


Here are two photographs of the barn on his family's farm. I'm trying to decide where he might have been standing when the photo at left was taken. Do you have a guess? It looks like he might have been mucking out stalls.



Do you ever wish you had been able to know a parent or grandparent when he/she was the same age as you? Or when you were the age the person was in a specific photograph? I definitely wish I could have known my father when he was a young man. Aunt Tressa, my father's half sister, wrote that my dad had a great sense of humor, something we children very rarely saw. It's much easier to believe when I look at this photo. Though we didn't often see his sense of humor, we did see that Dad could fix just about anything that broke, do triple digit math problems in his head, and repair watches, something he learned to do via a correspondence course. I think he could have been an engineer had there been an opportunity for him to obtain the education.

Thanks for coming to look at these photos and for sharing comments. This is a contribution to Sepia Saturday. If you go to the Sepia Saturday blog there are links to others' old photos and posts.

Friday, July 16, 2010

A Typical Day.... Was All Work

Because my father, Lee Doyle, never talked about his childhood, all I really knew about his youth was that he lived on a farm in Stoneboro, Pennsylvania. About 7 years after Dad died I wrote to his half-sister, Tressa, and asked her questions about their years on the farm together. She was kind to take time to answer them, and I've been slowly transcribing the many pages she wrote. She went into very little detail about the exhausting labor of running a farm and the day-in, day-out, every-day-of-the-year work, but gave a brief overview of work in this summer season. (The photo to the right shows the barn and farm from the back.)

My daughters and I visited Aunt Tressa about two years later and she took us to see the farm. I was surprised to realize that we'd passed it every time we went to visit her -- and I'd never known it was "the farm." We were not able to go inside the house but had permission to poke around the barn, walk the property, and take photographs. Aunt Tressa's words about the farm and those bygone times are below, accompanied by my photos of that visit.

At least 4 generations of my Doyle family had used the barn for a livelihood. As you can see, the barn was unused, unloved, and had been given little care in recent years. The fields were grown over with grass and weeds, the paths from pasture to barn no longer discernable. It tugged at my heartstrings to see the once noble barn in such a state. It has since been torn down, a part of our family's past and history gone, except for Aunt Tressa's written memories and my photographs.


A typical day on the farm in summer was all work. – Seven days a week the cows had to be milked – morning and evening. The milk was strained into 10 gallon cans which were set in the cold water trough to cool. Every morning the cans were put on the truck (wagon in the wintertime) to be taken to the Meadow Gold Milk Plant at Sandy Lake. We took turns with 2 other farmers at taking the milk to the Plant. Each turn was for a month. Dad [Gust] or your Dad [Lee], when he was old enough to drive, would take the milk to the Plant.

After milking was completed the cows were turned out to pasture.

This is where the youngest of the family had to help. We would follow the cows down the lane, urge them into the pasture and secure the gate. In the evening this procedure was reversed. Our dog helped us with the cows. (Also it was the duty of the children to bring the cows from the pasture to the barn in the early evening so they could be milked.) Dad or your Dad brought them up to the barn in the morning. This was in the summer. In the winter the cows were kept in the shed except at milking time.

In the spring the ground was plowed (always with the horses -- until we bought the [Fordson] tractor [in about 1930]).
After the fields were plowed – the soil was prepared for planting corn and oats. When the corn started to grow it had to be hoed to kill the weeds around the plants. Then Dad or your Dad would cultivate it. When we were old enough (and big enough) we had to help hoe the corn – right along with the men.

The oats and hay didn’t require this much work. They just grew until harvest time. The hay was harvested first, then the oats. In the fall the field corn was cut and shocked until the corn could be husked. The ears of corn were stored in the corn crib. Most of it was ground into feed for the cows. Some of it was used for chicken feed. The corn stalks were used in the winter for feed for the cows when they were in the shed. After they had eaten the good part, the remainder of the stock was used for bedding for the cows. The ensilage corn was cut and loaded on the wagons to be taken to the barn where it was put in the ensilage cutter to be chopped and blown into the silo for feed for the cows in the winter....

At the time [Dad/Gust] died we owned 248 acres. He was becoming a very successful dairy farmer. We had 20 milk cows plus the calves that we raised to replace cows that weren’t good milk producers. We had a team of work horses that were used to plow, cultivate and prepare the fields for planting the crops. They were also used for harvesting the crops of hay, oats and corn.


Neither hay, nor oats, nor corn grow on the farm. There are no fences, silo, nor corn cribs. And the horses, the cows, and the dog are gone. Nearly all the people who once lived there are also gone. I'm thankful to have been able to visit and see the barn before it was demolished and to envision my father and grandfather and the others at work there.

Have you visited the home or property of ancestors? Was it in good condition, poor condition, or was the building gone? How did you feel when you visited?

Monday, July 12, 2010

Unable to Find Abel

Abel Armitage, that is. And it’s not exactly that I can’t find him. I just can’t find his beginning, before 1841, or his end, after 1880.

Abel is my great-great-grandfather. He was born in Little Horton, Bradford, Yorkshire, England, in about 1821. To complicate matters, another Abel Armitage was born in Bradford, Yorkshire in about 1824. I hope the birth years will help me keep these two men straight.

My first knowledge of Abel was on the death certificate of his daughter who is my great-grandmother, Elizabeth Armitage Meinzen, where his name and country of birth, England, were named. Since Elizabeth lived in Jefferson County, Ohio and had come to the U.S. at the age of 12, in 1864, I hoped to find Abel and his family in Jefferson County, also. Elizabeth married in April, 1870, just months before the 1870 census was taken, so I knew I would not find her with her parents.

I found Abel, age 49, and his wife, Ann, plus 4 children, in the 1880 census, living in Second Ward, Steubenville, Ohio. At that time Abel was disabled ("maimed, crippled, bedridden, or otherwise disabled") and had been unemployed for 8 months. That census was taken on June 10, 1880.

I have a note at the bottom of the 1880 census transcription sheet which reminds me that the census year began June 1, 1879 and ended May 31, 1880; that the census included all individuals living on the first day of June, 1880; and that those who had died since June 1, 1880 (and up to the day the census-take came), were to be included in the census. It is possible that Abel could have died as early as June 1, 1880.

I have been unable to find Abel (or his wife Ann) after the 1880 census. He is not in the death records transcriptions; not in the newspapers; not in a cemetery index. Nowhere have I been able to find him, nor a hint of him, other than in the obituaries of his children in which only his name appears. Did he go back to England? Did he move to West Virginia or Kentucky or Pennsylvania? Or did he die in Ohio and no one recorded his death? Abel was a coal miner in the 1880 census. Did he work as a breaker boy (a position for boys too young to mine and the old and/or disabled who couldn't mine) even though he was disabled? Perhaps not if he was unemployed for 8 months. Did he die in a mine accident and if so, how would I find out about it?

Earlier records show Abel Armitage (spelled Harmatage), age 49, in the 1870 U.S. census, living in Second Ward, Steubenville, Ohio, this time with wife Ann, age 39, with 6 children (if they are all his children) ages 1 to 22 years. He was an illiterate coal-miner who was born in England.

Abel’s final naturalization record for U. S. citizenship (with his name spelled Armiddage) was filed August 17, 1874, in Jefferson County, Ohio.

British records reveal Abel, age 39, in the 1861 U.K. census with wife Ann, age 34, and daughters Ann, age 11, and Elizabeth, age 9, plus another son, living in Trimdon Colliery Villages, Durham.

The 1851 U. K. census shows Abel, age 30, living in Bowling, Bradford, Yorkshire, with his wife Eliza, 36 years, and one daughter, Ann, 10 months. (My mother had said that Elizabeth had a sister named Ann.)

In the 1841 U.K. census, Abel Armitage, age 20, was living with G _ _ e Ratcliffe, age 30 and Hannah, age 20, in Bradford, Horton, Yorkshire.

Based on the above U.K. census records, I believe this is my gggrandfather. But how to find earlier and later records?

I was excited when FindMyPast offered free time on their site during the soccer games. I devoted some time to search before the game so when I signed on I could go directly to the sources I thought were mine. Sadly, I came away empty-handed.

I’m not ready to claim Abel as a brick wall yet because I’m sure I haven’t yet exhausted all resources, and yet I just don’t know where to look next.

Are there any other Armitage researchers out there?

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Celebrating 11 Years



Don't they look radiant? With a little "tease" thrown in for good measure.

This is my brother, Bob, and his wife, Eva. They're celebrating 11 years of marriage today.

Happy Anniversary, Bob & Eva! I'm wishing you many, many more joyful years together.

This is a Man....


This is a man who...
. . . can calm a crying infant, whether the infant knows him or not.
. . . can, in one afternoon, gain the trust of an abused, rescued Airedale terrier.
. . . built a rocking horse for his niece, my daughter.
. . . is kind and generous, thoughtful and caring.

This is Chuck, the man who is my sister's husband. I'm thankful he's a member of our family.

He's holding a painting created for him by his granddaughter, Grace.

Happy Birthday, Chuck! I hope your celebration's great!

Just Look at the Camera and Smile!

Little ones are sometimes so hard to photograph. People looking through boxes just aren't as interesting as the grass, her dress, his shoe, the girl behind, etc. And, oh, the sun hurts my eyes. These two photographs both made me chuckle.

In the top photo my mother, Audrey, is kneeling in the middle with the dark belt around her waist. I believe that her next younger sister, Geraldine, is sitting in front on the left of the photograph, and I think "Baby Girl" is the little towhead in the front with her face down. Those babies and toddlers are very busy characters, not the least interested in looking at the camera. And then there's the boy in back, mouth wide open. You have to wonder if he's a jokester or a tease.

The photo on the bottom seems to have been taken a few years later because it looks to me like "Baby Girl" is the little towhead in the center of the group, a few years older than in the top photo. Is the boy in front pointing to encourage the others to look at the camera, or does he see something else exciting?

Is it just me or do you, too, think that the faces children of 100 years ago look different than the faces of children of today? Is it the hairstyles or that the photos are black and white? To me there's just a difference.

I think both of these photos were taken at the home of Edward Jesse and Mary (Thompson) Bickerstaff of Mineral Ridge, Ohio. E.J. and Mary were my mom's grandparents. The house in the background of the photo on the left appears over and over again in photographs of the time period.

About old photographs, Kate Morton wrote in The House at Riverton,
It is a cruel, ironical art, photography. The dragging of captured moments into the future; moments that should have been allowed to evaporate with the past; should exist only in memories, glimpsed through the fog of events that came after. Photographs force us to see people before their future weighed them down, before they knew their endings.
Perhaps my mother or some others in these photographs would agree with Kate Morton. As for me, I'm grateful to be able to glimpse moments in time - to see my aunt as a busy infant, my mom as an interested and attentive youth, to see that across the span of a hundred years, children behave in similar ways. How about you? What do you think?


This post is a participant in this week's Sepia Saturday
, along with lots of others. I encourage you to enjoy their photographs and stories, too.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

The Only Time a Lady's Name Should Appear in the Newspaper


In Kate Morton's novel, The House at Riverton, the opinion of Lady Clementine, c. 1914, was,

"Aside from her marriage, her obituary is the only time a lady's name should appear in the newspaper...."

I think most of my ancestors must have subscribed to this opinion. And plenty didn't have their names in the newspapers when they married. How about yours?

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

An Anchor and a Support

We have very few photographs of Gramma at the age when I knew her as a grandmother. It seems that she grew up in a family where portrait photographs were taken often, perhaps annually, and several of those survive. And we have a few photographs of her as a young wife and mother. But none of those are of the Gramma I remember. By the time she was a grandmother, she claimed that she didn't like to have her photograph taken and usually turned away from the camera. We have only a few photographs of her looking at the camera. These two were the only ones I could find of her smiling.

It warms my heart to look at her photos and remember her kindnesses and love to me when I was a child. She was an anchor and a support in my young life. Because she lived just two houses away from us visits to her house were frequent. In fact, for a while I made daily after-school visits and was served Vienna bread with real butter (unlike at home where we used margarine). I still love real butter best.

Looking back I sometimes wonder how Gramma managed to finish all her work so she could have time to sit and visit with me every afternoon. We didn't always just sit. She taught me how to crochet and together we made "Granny Square" afghans. She also helped me learn to embroider and stitch quilt blocks together.

She had 8 grandchildren and it seemed that she always remembered exactly what we liked best: which kind of pie, what kind of candy, and even who our friends were.

I don't think her life was easy. Grampa was a barber and her part in his barbering business was cleaning the barber shop and laundering (by hand and hanging to dry) all the towels he used.

Gramma is my maternal grandmother, Emma Virginia Bickerstaff Meinzen. She was born on July 6, 1893, in Jefferson County, Ohio. I believe she was named for her grandmother, Emma (Nelson) Bickerstaff, who died when her son and Gramma's father, Edward Jesse, was just 7 years old.

Gramma, I hope you are being hugely celebrated today. You are a wonderful lady and grandmother. I love you and miss you!


Do you have special memories of your grandmother?

The Twins

Looking at this photo takes me right back to my high school years when my sister's twins, Jeff and Holly, were little. They lived next door to us for a number of years.

They are the first babies I ever loved, and while it was great fun for me to have them living next door, I'm not so sure it was such a great thing for their parents to live next to parents and parents-in-law.

Holly and Jeff were adorable toddlers with lots of energy, creative enthusiasm, and a sense of humor. They could always ham it up for the camera, as you see to the right: Jeff is wearing a pair of old glasses without the lenses -- which were bigger than his face.

As adults they continue their creative pursuits very successfully. And best of all, they maintained their sense of humor.

Happy Birthday, Holly and Jeff! I love you.


Sunday, July 4, 2010

Hats Off!


TO THE FLAG!

To the good old U. S. A.!

To our boys, God bless 'em!

And to the love that inspires the beauty and
Loyalty and happiness that has made us
what we are!


by Juanita Hamel
from The Steubenville Herald-Star
Friday, July 3, 1925






My mother would have been 10 years old in 1925. Was she celebrating Independence Day with her Steubenville relatives?

Do you know how any of your ancestors celebrated Independence Day?

Happy Independence Day to you and yours!




Saturday, July 3, 2010

She Wore Bows in Her Hair

I can't help but chuckle when I look at these photographs of my mother, Audrey Meinzen, with bows in her hair.



In this photo Mom is with her father, W. C. Robert Meinzen, and her 2nd youngest sister, "Baby Girl" of some previous Sepia Saturday posts.

Her bow is wider than her head! I wonder if it's tied around a lock of hair or if something else is holding it in place.

I think Mom is about 6 and "Baby Girl" is perhaps 6 or 8 months in this photo. That would date the photo to late fall, 1921, and could possibly be as late as early 1922.









This photo was probably taken between 1922 and 1923. It's Mom and "Baby Girl" again. There was a daughter between these two but she doesn't seem to be in the photos taken around this time.

Is it my imagination or is the bow bigger in this photo than in the previous one? Perhaps the bows became bigger as Mom got older?













Oh, I do believe it's true: bows got bigger with age. Mom looks to be another two years older than in the previous photograph, and look at that bow! Have you ever seen such a big bow in a child's hair before?

Was it made of fabric or paper? If it was fabric, surely it was starched. How did she keep it in her hair? How did she prevent it from flopping around?

She's with "Baby Girl" again in this photo, too. I love this photo. I love how "Baby Girl" is peeking around from behind Mom. I love the hollyhocks -- whoops, they're roses -- in the background, and their dresses. I think this is just a terrific little snapshot. I wonder who the photographer was.


Do you have photographs of ancestors with bows in their hair?



This is a Sepia Saturday post. I encourage you to go to the Sepia Saturday blog where you can find out who else is sharing old photographs and memories this week.
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