any interesting stories in your family's past?

[alan]

Tell us about them.

Alan

"Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?"

[chick]

What makes you ask? Tell us about YOURS http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/smile.gif

[alan]

All I have is my parents. Both were passengers on the St. Louis (the "Voyage of the Damned" ship), and actually met on board for the first time. Mom was 14, with her parents (her mother was always seasick), and didn't know about boys (didn't learn on board, either.) Dad was 15, traveling alone (the rest of his family was already in the U.S.)

After Cuba, then the U.S turned the ship away, Mom and parents wound up in England for 11 months until their quota number came up and they could come here. Dad wound up in Holland until his number came up (he got out before Germany conquered Holland.) Everybody wound up in Baltimore, Mom and Dad eventually found each other again (she knew more about men by then) and, in 1959, they got married and soon made me.

Alan

"Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?"

[This message was edited by alan on 01-30-04 at 07:47 PM.]

[teena]

Thanks for your story, Alan.

Nice to hear it...

Teena

[marco25]

In 1917 my grandfather was 19 years old at Ft. Sill in Oklahoma, getting ready to go to France. There was an influenza epidemic at the time, and he had contracted it. My great grandmother, Martha http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/smile.gif, took the train down from Kansas to nurse her son back to health. (Moms could do that back then. She was there for 2 months, from what I hear.) When she arrived, a young soldier named Hayes, greeted Martha and directed her to the area he thought she could find her son. She gave him two silver dollars for his help. Hayes would remember that!

Fast forward to the Battle of the Argonne. My grandfather was a member of the Corp of Engineers. There was fierce fighting on the front, and their group got cut off and then surrounded. There was talk of having to sacrifice them to the enemy, but at the last minute, the decision was made to send the Intelligence Corps to save them. Hayes was a member of it.

About a year later, the two of them were back in Kansas and ended up at the same church picnic. The two of them were among a group of men talking about the war, when they made the connection. My grandfather reached his hand out to Hayes and said, "I was in that battle. Thanks again for saving my life."

That was the beginning of a friendship that lasted until my grandfather's death. It was also the day my grandfather met Hayes's sister, my grandmother.

[lynnifer]

At age 12, my mother contracted Rhumatic Fever (sp?) .. she told me later on that they called everything 'Rhumatic Fever' back then. She was paralyzed from the waist down for 6-8 weeks.

Ironically I became a paraplegic from Transverse Myelitis at the same age - 12.

At age 33, my mother again contracted Rhumatic Fever and was paralyzed again, this time from the neck down. She again recovered.

I am not looking forward to turning 33 (2 years from now).

[beelady]

When I was young, about 14, my step father use to drag me and my little brother to KKK rallys. I didnt really understand or care at that time what was all going on. He was a big wheel with the purple robe. I most played while the rally was going on but I remember most the crosses that were burned.

[bilby]

My Uncle(my moms brother) was paralyzed in a diving accident, he's a c-5. I was paralyzed in a motorcycle accident, I'm a c-6. Unfortunately, the motorcycle was a gift from her. My poor Mom! http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/frown.gif

[sherry38]

Xavieria Hollander is my cousin..it gets weirder from there http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/wink.gif

To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there's no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other

[KiranA]

My great grandfather was a quadriplegic. He was injured in a fall at the c6 level. I only found this out about five years ago. I thought I was the first in my family to have an SCI. Guess not.

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." - Oscar Wilde

[chick]

Mom has been sick for the past month or so, with a terrible cough. A few days ago, while coughing almost uncontrollably, she recalls how she had similar problem when she was a very young child.

Her parents did not know why she was coughing so, but knew she was ill. They did not see a doctor. There was war. They lived in a small fishing village off the coast, where her father was a fishing boat captain and fresh fish was so abundant that you could literally eat them right out of the ocean. It was also a scarey time, because they weren't safe. She remembers being sick, with the relentless cough when they and the rest of the people in her village were going to hide from the North Koreans. They went to hide in a cave-like dwelling underneath the mountainside. Their neighbors were becoming annoyed because her cough was preventing them from hiding in silence and putting everyone in danger. She coughed throughout the night. In the morning, noticing respite from her cough, some neighbors asked her mother, "Is she dead?"

I think they asked that in a hopeful way.

[Chris Chappell]

Sherry 38, with a cousin like that I'm sure you've got some interesting tales to tell.

...call me madame..

[Christopher Paddon]

my mother's relatives were famous smugglers

Larkem's Cove in England was named after them cause it's where they dun it

[Christopher Paddon]

mum knew a handsome naval chap who lived near my grandparents until he broke his neck diving in shallow water in the south of England - he had 2 children by that time and a wife - in those days quadriplegics didn't get out of bed so he lived 9 years getting fatter and fatter, according to his sister, who said that thing in bed is not my brother anymore.

[stormie464]

the novel written by jack london.."the sea-wolf" was penned after my great grandmother. she was a rum runner in southern new england and ran a speakeasy out of her inn in connecticut.

[Cspine]

my grandfather on my dads side was in ww2 and was captured when the japs took battan. he survived the deth march and had to sew his own nose back on after it was blown off in a bomb raid. after months of forced labor the prisoners were forced into board covered trenches durring an air raid. thinking this was odd, my grandpa and 7 others dug out and escaped the pit just before the japs dumped aviation fuel in the trenches and torched most of them. he hid in a trash pile for 12 days untill ground troops arived. in the battle he killed a jap officer and took his sword. i grew up with this story and a smelly blood stained sword in my dads closet.

my other grandpa worked on the apollo 13 computers, and my grandma swears i'm related to will rogers but i'm not sure how.

'The more you dissaprove the more fun it is for me.'

[Andy]

I find it kind of interesting that motorcycles did in both me and and my grandfather on my mothers side. I got my SCI from a motorcycle, and my grandfather got a headstone from a motorcycle after crashing head on into a car after turning into a street in the '40's in France. I guess bikes dont like my family.

And how's this for coincidental... Both my gf and I went to the same high school, lived 5 blocks from each other on the same street, knew many of the same people from highschool, but werent aware of each other's existance until we met over 10 years afterwards.

[betheny]

My dad's cousin fled the oilfields of central Kansas with a gangster (I thhink it was Al Capone). She died in prison of syphillis in her early thirties.

Great-grandpa killed a man in Texas, self defense after an argument. He spent a year in prison.

Great-grandmother was full-blooded Cherokee, they are still in denial on this one but the records are there. I wonder why there is so much shame about native American heritage in that generation?

C5/6 incomplete, injured Aug. 2000

[kl]

Poland lost 1939 campaign not only because of Germans superior power and tactics but also because it was stabbed in the back by Soviets. After partition of Poland bet. Hitler and Stalin, my father family was under soviet occupation. Because my grandfather and his brother were volunteers in Polish-Soviets war in 1920, my grandfather family-him, grandmother and 3 children (my father was 8 years old) were scheduled to be sent to Siberia. Their day was June 22, 1941. On that day Germany attacked Russia.
Bet. 1939-41 400-450 thousands Poles was sent to Siberia, almost 100 thousand died. My family was lucky.

[This message was edited by kl on 02-01-04 at 07:08 PM.]

[weekender410]

A grandmother with eight "greats" was Mary Esty, one of the women accused of being a witch and hanged during the Salem witchcraft trials.

[Clipper]

My uncle looked after the horse of a Louisiana politician. One day while transporting the horse, my uncle had an accident and the horse -- named Sunshine -- was killed. The song "You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine" was written by that politician about that horse.

[David Berg]

My wife's the one with all the stories that people will admit to. Well, I do have a story in one geneology about a guy who became a hobo about 100 years ago, but that's about as exciting as it gets on my side.

Now in my wife's family, there's the guy who used to earn his living as a graverobber and sell the fresh bodies to med schools. He'd even dress the bodies up and put them beside him on the wagon seat.

Then there's her great-aunt who saw a young male relative walking down the dirt road with a shotgun and an angry expression and asked him where he was going. It was fairly well known that he was brunt of too many practical jokes and he said he was going to shoot somebody. Before he had time to move, she grabbed the gun away from him and started beating him with the stock all the way to his house.

When my father-in-law was a baby, his mother walked into the nursery one night to see an intruder climbing in the second-story window. She nailed him with a shot from her trusty derringer and knocked him out the window and down to the ground.

My father-in-law was also a prisoner of war in WW2 in Germany. He was a very small guy and had a young-looking face. One older German prison guard took pity on him, thinking he must be only about 12 years old. After 6 months the older guy retired and on his last day he brought my FIL a change of clothes to dress like a German school-boy, a map, and a gun, then let him out of the prison. He made his way back to American lines and finished the war.

I could keep going, but you get the idea.

[Sue Pendleton]

Originally posted by sherry38:

Xavieria Hollander is my cousin..it gets weirder from there http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/wink.gif


Any chance a copy of her book, autographed, could be donated to one of the paralysis groups to raise money from the silent auction? And I would deriously empty my own rainy day fund at the auction if there is an autographed anything to her from Rod Stewart. Hell, maybe you could ask her to call old Rod for an autographed CD?? Honest, the TMA does a silent auction each year so if it's possible contact me and I'll hook you up with the guy in charge.

But how cool! I read the Happy Hooker when I was a teenager. I doubt she'll have many regrets on her deathbed.

Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow."

[.]

my dad and I have the same first, middle and last name.

my dad and I were both paralyzed in automobile accidents (we weren't in the same wreck)
My dad recovered. I didn't.

my dad and I both died in automobile accidents(again, we were not together)
I recovered. My dad didn't.

huh?

[Shaun]

Im a full blooded Scot on both sides,im the first born out of Scotland.So my whole family's past is interesting story http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/biggrin.gif

''In a world called catastrope my native tongue is blasphomy''

[Theophania]

Back in 1894, my great-great grandfather was a horse thief from Montreal and he escaped authorities (along with his wife and three kids) by sneaking into Minnesota.

He was the modern-day version of a car thief! lol

[Steven Edwards]

Interesting? Dunno, but what the heck...

A month and a few days before my mum's 17th birthday, she gave birth to me.

A month and a few days before my 17th birthday, I broke my neck.

I'm cautiously looking forward to my little brother's 17th birthday to see what he does.

-Steven

[Brad_D]

I had my SCI (c-4 Quad) Thursday July 12, 1984 racing bicycles. My sister fell on the same track at the same place sustaining a hairline fracture at t-4 one year prior on July 10, 1983. http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/eek.gif

This is the spot at the bottom of the picture at the base of the jump.
(note: This isn't me, this was taken after my accident)

http://www.finalbreak.com/howell,Nj.jpg

[marco25]

(Life/Family mods: Could you move this topic to "Family"?)

[Belle]

My husband's paternal family line goes back in North America to the 1600's. I'm sure there are stories, but we don't know them...

I had a great-grandfather on my mother's side who got away with murder. He was a few bricks short of a load...thought his wife was cheating on him with the brother-in-law, and went over to her sister's house when his wife was there visiting her sister and shot the place up. He killed the sister and her four year old son. This was around the turn of the century, and he was let off because by golly, a man had a right to shoot at unruly wimmen in those days!

A number of years later, he was himself shot to death after barricading himself in his house and shooting at random people outside. The police came and shot the place up, killing him (but apparently not putting any bullet holes in the various religious pictures hanging on the walls, which was a major point in the newspaper story).


*************
AB wife of T8 complete para

[marco25]

(Mods, thanks for moving this topic. I'd been looking for it for days so I could post this story http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/smile.gif).

My mother grew up in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina, a little town north of Charleston on Charleston Harbor. Her mother came from a big Scottish family and had property on King Street, right on the harbor. They lived in the big house on the water, and as each of the children married, they were given a lot to build on. So, by the time all 6 children were married, they were all living next door or across King street from each other--a regular Donaldson compound.

One of the brothers, Townley, married "the lady"--a "common" woman who was "beneath" him, according to the family. However Townley loved this woman and stood by her side, defending her whenever necessary. This caused a huge rift in the family to the point that no one would talk to or even acknowledge Townley, "the lady" or their children. Townley's brothers wouldn't even acknowledge him in the town barber shop. This went on for decades. Stubborn Scots.

Even after "the lady" died, Townley and the other family members refused to make peace.

What no one knew was that Townley was slowing coming down with Alzheimer's disease. One morning in the early 80s, Robert, one of the brothers, heard a knock on his door. To his utter amazement, Townley was smiling and walked in talking about drinking some coffee with him.

Robert and his wife were absolutely stunned! They didn't know what to do! He was so happy to see them! It was as though there'd never been a bitter thought or word between them during all those years. So ... they sat down and drank their coffee, as though nothing had ever happened, and continued to do so every morning until Townley died.

I try to keep this story in mind when someone has hurt or angered me. It keeps life and relationships in perspective for me. Is all that anger and bitterness I'm tempted to hold on to worth it? If the offending party suddenly forgot about it, could I forget about it too--and live like it had never happened?

I hope so. http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/smile.gif

[Kendell]

Great story, Martha. I will remember that,too. http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/smile.gif

Biggest story in my family is the long-held belief(rumor?) that one of my ancestors was best man for President Lincoln at his wedding. I have no clue if it's true or not. Did they have best men back then? Maybe someday I"ll look into it.

Melissa/Kendell

[Shaun]

If you have seen the movie ''We were soldiers'' with Mel Gibson then you have heard the ''Sgt.Mckenzie lyrics''.It was a song written in memory of my great grandfater and the Seaforth Highlanders in WWI.Its still played alot on the east coast of Canada on rememberance day..

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

When they come a wull staun ma groon
Staun ma groon al nae be afraid

Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear
Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears

Ains a year say a prayer faur me
Close yir een an remember me

Nair mair shall a see the sun
For a fell tae a germans gun
(the part you dont hear in the movie)

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

Whaur afore mair huv gaun


If ya want to look up the history of it,it was written by Joseph Kilna Mckenzie.Or look up the Seaforth Highlanders,its pretty interesting stuff http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/cool.gif

~Never mistake motion for action~-Ernest Hemmingway

[This message was edited by Shaun on 07-26-04 at 05:53 PM.]

[Hunker]

Originally posted by David Berg:

My wife's the one with all the stories that people will admit to. Well, I do have a story in one geneology about a guy who became a hobo about 100 years ago, but that's about as exciting as it gets on my side.

Now in my wife's family, there's the guy who used to earn his living as a graverobber and sell the fresh bodies to med schools. He'd even dress the bodies up and put them beside him on the wagon seat.

Then there's her great-aunt who saw a young male relative walking down the dirt road with a shotgun and an angry expression and asked him where he was going. It was fairly well known that he was brunt of too many practical jokes and he said he was going to shoot somebody. Before he had time to move, she grabbed the gun away from him and started beating him with the stock all the way to his house.

When my father-in-law was a baby, his mother walked into the nursery one night to see an intruder climbing in the second-story window. She nailed him with a shot from her trusty derringer and knocked him out the window and down to the ground.

My father-in-law was also a prisoner of war in WW2 in Germany. He was a very small guy and had a young-looking face. One older German prison guard took pity on him, thinking he must be only about 12 years old. After 6 months the older guy retired and on his last day he brought my FIL a change of clothes to dress like a German school-boy, a map, and a gun, then let him out of the prison. He made his way back to American lines and finished the war.

I could keep going, but you get the idea.
check this out http://www.crimelibrary.com/serial_killers/weird/burke/index_1.html

[Hunker]

Originally posted by sherry38:

Xavieria Hollander is my cousin..it gets weirder from there http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/wink.gif

To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there's no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other


Sherry is she the "Happy Hooker?" http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/smile.gif

[marco25]

August 12, 1939

My father grew up as an only child on a 44-acre farm outside of Topeka, Kansas. One day when he was 13 his father left to do some hunting on the property in the woods, down by the creek.

My grandmother noticed that he'd been gone longer than normal, so she and my father went out to search for him.

They found him. Apparently he was climbing through a barbed wire fence when his gun went off, instantly killing him. They never heard the shot. They could see the house from where they found him.

Those were all the details I'd heard about my grandfather's death as I was growing up. It never occurred to me that there might be a reason we traveled to Kansas every August or why we always paid a visit to the tenants on the farm. I just thought it was cool that I was a city girl with a farm. http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/images/smilies/smile.gif

When I was in my early 20s, one August, my sister, a brother, an old boyfriend of mine, my father and I loaded up our cars and made the trek to Kansas. This time we did something unusual ... we drove straight to the farm. We didn't even stop at my grandmother's place.

Strange, but I didn't think about it ... too much. We parked under the ancient elm trees. My sister wanted to show my boyfriend the barn; my brother ran off to explore. My father quietly started walking to a field between the old stone house and the tree-lined creek. I followed without saying a word. I was thinking about the grandfather I'd never known.

Suddenly, without a word, Dad stopped at a point in the field and stared at the ground. Still wrapped up in my own thoughts, and failing to notice his demeanor, I blurted out the question weighing on my mind: "Dad, where did you find your father the day he died?"

He was quiet for maybe 5 seconds and then said, "Right here, 44 years ago today."

We didn't say another word about it that day. However, every August 12, I relive that day in 1939 and 1983 with my dad. We're alike. We relive those anniversaries, the good ones and the bad ones. And I know tonight he's hurting. He's probably shed some tears today too, because I sure have.

On August 12, 1989, I called him that morning. My mother said he couldn't come to the phone. He'd been crying since waking up. On August 12, 1999, I called, same story. Today the children and I stopped by for a visit. We didn't see him, but he was there. I understand.

For some reason, he and I are the only ones who relive this date. No one else in our family even remembers this anniversary, but we do. And we cry together, but privately. Maybe it was that moment on the farm together. It changed me. Maybe I took on some of the burden? The grief? I don't know if it's healthy or not. Freud might have a field day with us, but I don't care. My father is hurting tonight, and so am I--and it's a privilege I cherish as his daughter.

~ We are suffering from a catastrophic failure of imagination.. ~ Dr. Wise Young