I was born in Colorado Springs, Colorado in 1952. At the time the town was busy riding the economic wave of defense contract money being thrown at establishing an Air Force Academy there and efforts to defend against the Soviet nuclear threat which at the time was the DEW Line, a series of radar installations in the Arctic that would warn of Soviet Bombers encroaching into ours and Canada's airspace. My father had much to do with spending that defense money as he was chief budget officer for the Pacific Air Forces (PACAF). He was especially proud of his work on the DEW Line.
My memories of Colorado Springs are mostly bits and pieces, hints and allegations passed down to me when I was older. We left Colorado when I was four and settled in Japan for a brief period before moving to Hickam AFB in Hawaii when I was six.
Of the pleasant memories I can muster up as my own and not retold tales I heard around the dinner table, the most striking ones were the Rocky Mountains that loomed large outside my bedroom window just to the west of town. The Rockies' massive presence made anything else in the picture just incidental objects to give perspective to just how large and in charge the mountain chain was.
I remember being glued to the window late at night and watching lines of thunder storms breech the peaks to the west. My horizon was completely inundated with countless lightning strikes that seemed to go on forever. And I remember not being scared, just completely entranced by the awesome display. To this day, even after having later felt a lightning strike up close enough to hurt some, I am not afraid of lightning.
My other memory I remember is the entertainment we could get over the airwaves which originated in Denver, 75 miles away. The one radio station available played non stop Country. So the first music I remember is Hank Williams and Bill Monroe who became lifetime favorites. Television memories were all about Pinky Lee and Howdy Doody on a round black and white TV that only worked when we found the best position for the antenna complex that resided on top of the TV.
Then there are the second hand tales told to me by parents, brothers, uncles and aunts. Most are funny, but I never have felt they were my memories. They were someone else's interpretations of me as a child. Tales constructed outside of my personal experience about my personal experience. I am sure they were the true renditions of interested observers.
Some of the memories I have of this time were not so pleasant. I remember going into panics when I knew we were headed to the base for another round of inoculations forced on me in the run up to us leaving for Japan. I remember my dog Dooley and the night he ran out into the road and was hit by a car.
Some memories I buried for years. One was the notion that I never felt like a part of my family. Kids pick up vibes and as soon as I had a clue, I never felt I was accepted completely and without reservation. My brothers seemed distant and treated me like a stranger. It was not until I found my parents marriage certificate after Dad died that the cold shoulder I felt my whole life made some sense. I was conceived out of wedlock between husbands. And even though officially I was not a bastard, I think now that I was treated as one by my brothers and my mother's family. Oddly my father's sister, my puritanical Aunt Helen, accepted me into her heart without reservation and became my defacto grand parent.
Don't get me wrong. I was never mistreated in the classical sense. It was more a feeling of being ignored, or being a tiring responsibility one dealt with. To this day, I still harbor some latent resentment.
So there you are, some memories dating back as far as I can remember. Hope you enjoyed them as I certainly have writing them down.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ......................................
Showing posts with label Genealogical. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Genealogical. Show all posts
Friday, March 06, 2020
Sunday, September 16, 2018
The Traitor Revisited
"an unfortunate Man, bore down by popular prejudice."
In December of 2011, I did some research on my ancestral beginnings here in the New World. I found a lot of information, but none of it complete. Seems trying to retrace steps made by others 200 plus years ago is not that easy. At least for this dimwit anyway.
I forged ahead and collected quite a bit of history on my great, great, great Grandfather, John Roberts lll, previously of Lower Merion, Pennsylvania. On November 4, 1778 he was hanged for high treason by the then provisional government set up by the Colonists in Pennsylvania.
As it turned out, his execution was more about personal vendetta than treason. The US government agreed later and returned some seized property and also provided an annual pension to his widow.
Anyway, I recently attempted another search on the Mill that bore his name. I was rewarded with even more information and images from the archives of the Lower Merion Historical Society.
The letter at the left is one of the finds. It is a letter penned by my forebear sometime before he was hanged. I am having trouble reading it, but from what I can gather he was facing up to his fate with backbone and acceptance.
The quote at the top from this letter pretty much sums up his sad end.
If anyone would care to know more based on my previous posts:
The Traitor
The Traitor or "Republica v. John Roberts - a different perspective
The Haunted House
The site I got the letter from - Lower Merion Historical Society
So I actually posted something not angry and with no mention of ....................
Keep it 'tween the ditches ............
In December of 2011, I did some research on my ancestral beginnings here in the New World. I found a lot of information, but none of it complete. Seems trying to retrace steps made by others 200 plus years ago is not that easy. At least for this dimwit anyway.
I forged ahead and collected quite a bit of history on my great, great, great Grandfather, John Roberts lll, previously of Lower Merion, Pennsylvania. On November 4, 1778 he was hanged for high treason by the then provisional government set up by the Colonists in Pennsylvania.
As it turned out, his execution was more about personal vendetta than treason. The US government agreed later and returned some seized property and also provided an annual pension to his widow.
Anyway, I recently attempted another search on the Mill that bore his name. I was rewarded with even more information and images from the archives of the Lower Merion Historical Society.
The letter at the left is one of the finds. It is a letter penned by my forebear sometime before he was hanged. I am having trouble reading it, but from what I can gather he was facing up to his fate with backbone and acceptance.
The quote at the top from this letter pretty much sums up his sad end.
If anyone would care to know more based on my previous posts:
The Traitor
The Traitor or "Republica v. John Roberts - a different perspective
The Haunted House
The site I got the letter from - Lower Merion Historical Society
So I actually posted something not angry and with no mention of ....................
Keep it 'tween the ditches ............
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Tomorrow Never Arrives
I was probably about age 6 when I first took notice of one of my father's favorite sayings. It may have been that first Eureka moment in my life when I realized my parents might claim to have all the answers, but not always the right ones or ones that were unassailable. I guess I discovered logic, or at least became aware of its existence.
"Tomorrow never arrives. "
"Sure it does Daddy."
"No. No, it doesn't. By the time tomorrow comes, it is today."
The man had me stumped. I began chewing on this notion, that tomorrow never arrives. It had to. In my bones I knew it had to. So I retreated into my elementary school mind and worked the notion hard for quite awhile. In kid's time, it seemed like it took forever to come up with a way to one up my ole man.
One day when I was sure I had it. I found Dad doing Dad stuff. I squared my shoulders and blurted, "Tomorrow does too arrive."
He stopped doing his Dad stuff and turned to look at me. He looked at me for some seconds. "Oh, really? How do you figure that?
Standing a little straighter and trying to marshal up more bravado, "Today is Yesterday's Tomorrow."
Well, my ole man smiled. He didn't say a word for what seemed like forever. And then, "Well you know what Bug? You have me there."
As I walked away, he said to my back, "Good job." I remember immediate pride.
While this trip down memory lane is nice and all, my point of this post is I haven't quit chewing on Dad's original saying. I have tried expanding it this way, that way, and eventually tried to accept that that was all there is.
It would not stay down. Haunted me on a regular basis. But then Time, Existence , and what it all means has had me puzzled since I first stumbled upon them. They will most likely continue to do so I guess until the light has left my eyes and my meat's gone cold. But I do have my latest opinion on the subject.
What happened yesterday and will happen tomorrow are intrinsically tied up, wrapped up, entwined with the events that unfold today. It is a complicated flow of the passage of time, the actions of today and yesterday that dictate what happens in our future tomorrows . And often it takes the passage of many todays before we understand what happened in all those yesterdays. And though we might have the answer today, it most likely is one we should have had yesterday and we will now pay the price for it tomorrow.
Later .............................................
"Tomorrow never arrives. "
"Sure it does Daddy."
"No. No, it doesn't. By the time tomorrow comes, it is today."
The man had me stumped. I began chewing on this notion, that tomorrow never arrives. It had to. In my bones I knew it had to. So I retreated into my elementary school mind and worked the notion hard for quite awhile. In kid's time, it seemed like it took forever to come up with a way to one up my ole man.
One day when I was sure I had it. I found Dad doing Dad stuff. I squared my shoulders and blurted, "Tomorrow does too arrive."
He stopped doing his Dad stuff and turned to look at me. He looked at me for some seconds. "Oh, really? How do you figure that?
Standing a little straighter and trying to marshal up more bravado, "Today is Yesterday's Tomorrow."
Well, my ole man smiled. He didn't say a word for what seemed like forever. And then, "Well you know what Bug? You have me there."
As I walked away, he said to my back, "Good job." I remember immediate pride.
While this trip down memory lane is nice and all, my point of this post is I haven't quit chewing on Dad's original saying. I have tried expanding it this way, that way, and eventually tried to accept that that was all there is.
It would not stay down. Haunted me on a regular basis. But then Time, Existence , and what it all means has had me puzzled since I first stumbled upon them. They will most likely continue to do so I guess until the light has left my eyes and my meat's gone cold. But I do have my latest opinion on the subject.
What happened yesterday and will happen tomorrow are intrinsically tied up, wrapped up, entwined with the events that unfold today. It is a complicated flow of the passage of time, the actions of today and yesterday that dictate what happens in our future tomorrows . And often it takes the passage of many todays before we understand what happened in all those yesterdays. And though we might have the answer today, it most likely is one we should have had yesterday and we will now pay the price for it tomorrow.
Later .............................................
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
The Haunted House
A man of means and importance dies unjustly and what happens? Legends begin, lies become facts, and things start bumping around in the night.
Many ghost stories we read about are the creations of writers who wish to entertain us through fictional renderings of the terrors we all think up from time to time. But many ghost stories are born from factual events.
Such is the case of a Great great great great , not sure how many greats - Grandfather of mine. He was legally hanged on trumped up charges in 1788 and not long after locals began to claim his ghost still wandered the family home he had built. It is a real house that once had a husband, a wife and 12 children pass in and out on a daily basis. Eventually though, the saga of John Roberts lll overwhelmed it's reality and it joined the ranks of local legend in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania, a suburb of Philadelphia.
Many ghost stories we read about are the creations of writers who wish to entertain us through fictional renderings of the terrors we all think up from time to time. But many ghost stories are born from factual events.
Such is the case of a Great great great great , not sure how many greats - Grandfather of mine. He was legally hanged on trumped up charges in 1788 and not long after locals began to claim his ghost still wandered the family home he had built. It is a real house that once had a husband, a wife and 12 children pass in and out on a daily basis. Eventually though, the saga of John Roberts lll overwhelmed it's reality and it joined the ranks of local legend in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania, a suburb of Philadelphia.
Monday, December 05, 2011
The Traitor or "Respublica v. John Roberts" - A diifferent perspective - Kinda
First of all I would have rather been related to John Roberts, the pirate. And I guess it is possible there is a connection. He came from Wales and my family on that side came from Wales at the same time he was an up and coming Pirate of fame and ill repute. Apparently there were too many Roberts in Wales. It must have been damn confusing.
Instead of the pirate I have to settle for having a traitor to the Revolution in my past. Hardly as romantic as being related to a pirate who dies with his sword in hand and veins in his teeth. But then my relative was hanged*. That's kinda cool. It is also very cool that according to one historian, Williard Sterne Randall, it was the trial of John Roberts that caused Benedict Arnold to go public with his opposition to the radical Whigs and their lust to go after Tories. Had he not publicly supported clemency for the Loyalists, his name may never have been inextricably entwined with the word "traitor".
Instead of the pirate I have to settle for having a traitor to the Revolution in my past. Hardly as romantic as being related to a pirate who dies with his sword in hand and veins in his teeth. But then my relative was hanged*. That's kinda cool. It is also very cool that according to one historian, Williard Sterne Randall, it was the trial of John Roberts that caused Benedict Arnold to go public with his opposition to the radical Whigs and their lust to go after Tories. Had he not publicly supported clemency for the Loyalists, his name may never have been inextricably entwined with the word "traitor".
Sunday, December 04, 2011
The Traitor
Rummaging around my ancestral past has gotten very interesting.
My middle name will now be a constant reminder of my relationship to a traitor in my past. My middle name will also remind me that Life is not fair, it never has been, nor will it ever be.....fair. Life is a crap shoot and no matter how covered we think our asses are, events can combine to ruin anyone's day.
Of course like so many tales from 235 years ago, the truth or facts are often muddled as they pass down from one family member to another. But the facts of this story are indisputable. Only the reasons are muddled and mysterious. It is a fact that 3 signers of the Declaration of Independence tried to get his death sentence commuted. And some years after he was hanged until dead, his wife had what property that had not been sold or redistributed returned to her and she was provided with a small pension courtesy of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. I assume this was the government's way of saying, "Oops, we screwed up. Sorry about that."
This part of my journey into the family past began with the picture above. It is photograph of a pen & ink drawing one of my forebears, Charles Hamlet Roberts drew of the Roberts Mill near Philadelphia. He drew it at age 17. Kid had some talent.
I grew up with this picture hanging prominently in whatever house we lived in. It now hangs in mine. Hanging on each side of it are photos of my Great Grandfather Spencer Roberts and my Great Grandmother Elisabeth Taylor Roberts. From what I can gather, Spencer might be the traitor's grandson. I have not been able to fill in the void of about 60 years between Spencer and the traitor. But Spencer ran the Mill, a strong indication of direct lineage.
I googled "Roberts Mill, Pennsylvania". One link lead to another, lead to another until I eventually found the following story.
In yesterday's post, I mentioned that one set of ancestors, the Spencers, had set up shop in America in the mid 1600's. The Roberts also settled here in the 1600s. 1682 or 83 to narrow it down. John Roberts left Wales and acquired a sizable piece of land directly from William Penn who essentially owned Pennsylvania at the time. Penn was a well to do Englishman and a Quaker. He envisioned creating a Quaker paradise out of the sight and mind of the intolerant attitudes and laws of England. Religious freedom it seems is what brought the Roberts to this country. Making money was what brought the Spencers. Regardless, both considered America as their way to a better life.
John Roberts built the second grist mill to be erected in Pennsylvania. Once he had it running, he built a solid business through hard work at the mill and farming his rather large land holding. He had one son, John Roberts ll who took over when he died. John the Second was not a healthy man. Less than a year after he married, he died. Four months later John Roberts lll was born
John Roberts lll was the prosperous one.. Under his stewardship, the family business blossomed. He acquired more land, more mills, farmed more land, ground more grain, milled more lumber, and the Roberts became one of the wealthiest families in Pennsylvania at that time. Naturally success like that created frictions with neighbors, competitors, and any number of people who would covet what John lll had built. Add in the fact that he was a Quaker and it follows that he might have made enemies.
During this time of business expansion, the Colonists were becoming more dissatisfied with what many considered the overbearing control of the King of England. They revolted. Everyone knows or should have an inkling about this war. If not, then go back to school ferchrisakes. Many of the Quakers tried to stay out of the fray as a main tenet of their religion was refusal to participate in war.. They were anti-slavery, did not believe in drinking alcohol, and swearing oaths was out of the question.
John lll was fed up with marauding British and Colonial armies sweeping through his area and taking what they wanted. I am guessing being a businessman, he figured they ought to pay for what they took. So he heads to British controlled Philadelphia and petitions the commander there to ante up or stop taking his shit. He was pressed into service by the British and forced to guide some of their patrols as they went on foraging missions. He did not volunteer and was released from their custody when the British left Philadelphia.
The British finally surrendered at Yorktown, went home to England leaving a mess behind for the Colonists to make sense of. The tumultuous period right after the Revolutionary War was full of sleaze bags among the new Americans taking advantage of their own. John Roberts was accused of being a Tory by a man he had had a land dispute with. He was arrested in a sweep that rounded up over a hundred people. Only he and one other man were actually held for trial. I am not sure about the other guy, but my namesake was hanged on November 4, 1788. Hanged even though almost a thousand people had signed clemency petitions including American military officers and three signers of the Declaration of Independence.
Immediately after he died, much of his confiscated land and properties were sold secretly to several of his "competitors" from the same area. Eventually some of it was returned to his widow in 1792 along with a small pension to help carry her through to her death.
And this is what I learned yesterday about my family in between bike tune ups and phone calls on a typical off season Saturday screwing the pooch. The Internet is really a great tool for a fool like me.
More to come................................................
My middle name will now be a constant reminder of my relationship to a traitor in my past. My middle name will also remind me that Life is not fair, it never has been, nor will it ever be.....fair. Life is a crap shoot and no matter how covered we think our asses are, events can combine to ruin anyone's day.
Of course like so many tales from 235 years ago, the truth or facts are often muddled as they pass down from one family member to another. But the facts of this story are indisputable. Only the reasons are muddled and mysterious. It is a fact that 3 signers of the Declaration of Independence tried to get his death sentence commuted. And some years after he was hanged until dead, his wife had what property that had not been sold or redistributed returned to her and she was provided with a small pension courtesy of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. I assume this was the government's way of saying, "Oops, we screwed up. Sorry about that."
This part of my journey into the family past began with the picture above. It is photograph of a pen & ink drawing one of my forebears, Charles Hamlet Roberts drew of the Roberts Mill near Philadelphia. He drew it at age 17. Kid had some talent.
I grew up with this picture hanging prominently in whatever house we lived in. It now hangs in mine. Hanging on each side of it are photos of my Great Grandfather Spencer Roberts and my Great Grandmother Elisabeth Taylor Roberts. From what I can gather, Spencer might be the traitor's grandson. I have not been able to fill in the void of about 60 years between Spencer and the traitor. But Spencer ran the Mill, a strong indication of direct lineage.
I googled "Roberts Mill, Pennsylvania". One link lead to another, lead to another until I eventually found the following story.
In yesterday's post, I mentioned that one set of ancestors, the Spencers, had set up shop in America in the mid 1600's. The Roberts also settled here in the 1600s. 1682 or 83 to narrow it down. John Roberts left Wales and acquired a sizable piece of land directly from William Penn who essentially owned Pennsylvania at the time. Penn was a well to do Englishman and a Quaker. He envisioned creating a Quaker paradise out of the sight and mind of the intolerant attitudes and laws of England. Religious freedom it seems is what brought the Roberts to this country. Making money was what brought the Spencers. Regardless, both considered America as their way to a better life.
John Roberts lll was the prosperous one.. Under his stewardship, the family business blossomed. He acquired more land, more mills, farmed more land, ground more grain, milled more lumber, and the Roberts became one of the wealthiest families in Pennsylvania at that time. Naturally success like that created frictions with neighbors, competitors, and any number of people who would covet what John lll had built. Add in the fact that he was a Quaker and it follows that he might have made enemies.
During this time of business expansion, the Colonists were becoming more dissatisfied with what many considered the overbearing control of the King of England. They revolted. Everyone knows or should have an inkling about this war. If not, then go back to school ferchrisakes. Many of the Quakers tried to stay out of the fray as a main tenet of their religion was refusal to participate in war.. They were anti-slavery, did not believe in drinking alcohol, and swearing oaths was out of the question.
John lll was fed up with marauding British and Colonial armies sweeping through his area and taking what they wanted. I am guessing being a businessman, he figured they ought to pay for what they took. So he heads to British controlled Philadelphia and petitions the commander there to ante up or stop taking his shit. He was pressed into service by the British and forced to guide some of their patrols as they went on foraging missions. He did not volunteer and was released from their custody when the British left Philadelphia.
The British finally surrendered at Yorktown, went home to England leaving a mess behind for the Colonists to make sense of. The tumultuous period right after the Revolutionary War was full of sleaze bags among the new Americans taking advantage of their own. John Roberts was accused of being a Tory by a man he had had a land dispute with. He was arrested in a sweep that rounded up over a hundred people. Only he and one other man were actually held for trial. I am not sure about the other guy, but my namesake was hanged on November 4, 1788. Hanged even though almost a thousand people had signed clemency petitions including American military officers and three signers of the Declaration of Independence.
Immediately after he died, much of his confiscated land and properties were sold secretly to several of his "competitors" from the same area. Eventually some of it was returned to his widow in 1792 along with a small pension to help carry her through to her death.
And this is what I learned yesterday about my family in between bike tune ups and phone calls on a typical off season Saturday screwing the pooch. The Internet is really a great tool for a fool like me.
More to come................................................
Saturday, December 03, 2011
Lost Treasure
Maybe it is that I am no longer young and numb, having worn out the young leaving just the numb. Maybe it is because I find myself less connected to the Present world as it spins by me. Or maybe it is because two people, one on the west coast and one on the east coast independently contacted me within two weeks of each other. Both were inquiring about my family's past. Regardless, I find myself becoming fascinated by the chain of events and people who participated in them creating the flow of history that has me playing a bit part here in Maine some 350 years later.First it was my cousin on my mom's side. I opened my email one morning and there was "Ancestry.com" notifying me that I had been added to a family tree - the Faulkners of San Francisco. I located my cousin whom I had not seen for over 25 years and set him straight on a couple of family miscues on the tree. He had my grandfather right on my father's side but not my grandmother. He also had questions regarding what I might know about the Faulkners as passed down from my mom. Unfortunately, I had precious little as it turned out.
Then yesterday, a journalism student from Pennsylvania contacted me through the Acton Library. She was researching my grandfather, Dr. Robert Shuter Macrum of Sewickley, PA who had died in 1913 at the age of 45. A professor had taken her class to a cemetery in Germantown, PA and told them to pick a headstone and do a biography. She picked my grandfather's. Again I was not of much help other than supplying her with some images and a few kernels of history I had managed to collect by just being around family gatherings at the right time. I actually learned more from her than she did from me.
It appears that one branch of my family has been here since the mid 1600s and were original lessees of land from William Penn. It also appears I have noble Brit blood flowing in my veins and she found a history dating back to the 1000's. That's 1000 years ago. My mind is blown now.
I found out two of my ancestors died in the Neshaminy Flood of 1683 that swept through Bucks County, PA. Their two sons, having been orphaned, were sent back to Barbados to live with relatives until they came of age. One at least returned to try and reclaim his family's land. He had two sons and died in 1705 in or around Philadelphia. He bequeathed his two sons the princely sum of 20 pounds apiece once they reached the age of 21. They had a long wait. They were about ages 4 and 6 when he died. Apparently he was a merchant of some kind as the rest of his will was about dispensing with a barrel of rum, some bolts of cloth, beads and other valuable commodities of that era.
I am now bitten with a new quest. We'll see if I have it in me to chase down more of the history of my family. I supposedly have connections to the very area I live in now through my mom's family. It will be interesting to look into.
Later....................................................
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