Not this tide...

When Rudyard Kipling lost his son John, who died and disappeared in Loos in 1915, he wrote this poem:

"Have you news of my boy Jack?"
Not this tide.
"When d'you think that he'll come back?"
Not with this wind blowing,
and this tide.
"Has any one else had word of him?"
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing,
and this tide.
"Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?"
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind -
Not even with that wind blowing,
and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing
and that tide.

Charles M. Dickinson was related by marriage to the Kipling family. He assisted in looking for John over those long years while he was missing. In 1911, it was concluded that John Kipling had died in the war. The following article was printed in the Trenton Evening Times on November 29, 1911. (Charles and my third great grandfather, Theodore Dickinson, were first cousins.)

"KIPLING’S SON LISTED AMONG WAR MISSING Binghamton, N.Y., Nov. 29 – John Kipling, son of Rudyard Kipling, who has immortalized the British Tommy in verse and story, has finally been listed among those thousands of soldiers who vanished in the war without leaving a clue as to their fate. This was announced here by Charles M. Dickinson, former Consul General at Constantinople, who for several years has been searching the Near East for trace of the young British soldier. Until shortly before Mr. Dickinson began his search the last word of the author’s son had been in October, 1915, when he was reported wounded and missing in northern France. He was only eighteen when he entered the army. It was learned, however, that young Kipling was on a British vessel bound for the Dardanelles, and he was thought to have reached the Gallipoli Peninsula, where some of the fiercest fighting of the war took place. Here, however, all trace of him was lost. Mr. Dickinson took up the search on the theory that Kipling might have been captured by the Turks. He is acquainted with the Turkish leaders through his successful efforts twenty years ago to obtain the release of Miss Stone, who had been captured by bandits. Mr. Dickinson has become convinced Kipling is no longer alive, after a thorough investigation by mail and special messengers. John Kipling’s name does not appear anywhere in the lists of the English dead, and he will now be officially recorded as among those unaccounted for." Trenton Evening Times, November 29, 1911

History will break your heart.

I've committed to getting at least some semblance of a family history ready to be put in book form for one of my family names this year. It is a little overwhelming.

I'm reading and transcribing stories told long ago and becomming connected and acquainted with those long gone. Soon the realization dawns that I actually miss them, long to know them, hear their voices, see their smiles. Their stories will break my heart and make me laugh.

Human history just seems to be the same in all places and all times. Stories of love, loss, triumph, sorrow, struggle. The stories of us. It's comforting, in a way. No matter what I'm going through, I'm certain I'm not the first and won't be the last. Others have survived it before me and will survive it long after I've gone home.

O Pioneer

My great great great grandfather, John Leonard Dickinson was a pioneer, true to the Dickinson way. Moving from New York State to Wisconsin in about 1856, he and his wife and several of their children remained there only a couple of years. By 1858 they had come to Minnesota, where he remained the rest of his life. Three of his sons, including my great great grandfather Theodore (husband of Emma) joined the Union Army for Minnesota. All three miraculously survived.

I've been searching for John's parentage for several years. Yesterday came a breakthrough from the researchers in Salt Lake City. They found land records indicating that John and his wife Harriet sold their New York property to Harriet's brother, Lawrence Mason. The land had previously conveyed to John by Joseph and Orrin Dickinson. I have other evidence that Joseph is John's father, and this could be the confirmation.

One more piece of the puzzle is coming into place, the research team at SLC will do a little more digging, and it's like waiting for Christmas to see what they unearth.

I feel time ticking away, I want to get this history into some sort of order to preserve it for whomever, in the next generation, or the next, becomes the "chosen" one, bitten by the genealogy bug. Made acquaintance this week with another cousin, a descendant of John L. Dickinson's brother, Richard. I have been seeking him for over a year, and finally had a response. He has some treasures to share as well, and I think again of how lives are entertwined like shiny and fragile threads forming a faint, almost invisible pattern over our country, and over the world.

Well, Hello there, part two, or: June, we knew you a little

I spent three hours today in the company of June Russell Dickinson's son, Russell, and part of his family. I got a call on Thursday from Russell, Jr., a quick response to the letter I had sent him. We made plans to meet today and I printed out some info and pictures of his great grandad and grandmother, packed up my computer and camera, and drove the short distance to the home he rents to his lovely daughter, Julie, whom I also met.

Many mysteries still remain about June Russell's life, but Russ Jr. told me a wonderful story that took place about 30 years ago. Russ Jr. was living in Oregon at the time, and had his father on his mind and heart. He felt impressed (had to be God, he says) to take some time off and go see his dad and re-connect. He drove to Minnesota and had to take a leave of absence from his work. Once here, the duo decided to take a trip to Pine Island, our ancestral home in Minnesota, so June could show Russ Jr. around his old stomping grounds. June agreed on the grounds that they 'wouldn't look anyone up.' Well, after a bit June's curiosity got the better of him, and they did go to his half-sister's farm (Ora Mae.) She opened the door, and was shocked to hear who was knocking - it seems she had been told June was dead. She asked him a sort of 'test' question - the name of the horse they had as kids, which was "Selum" - not a name one could easily guess! Of course June remembered it and was welcomed in. They spent a couple days in town, catching up, meeting some of June's nephews, and generally allowing some healing to happen.

June passed away two weeks later. Russ told me that June accepted Christ shortly before he died. I believe that maybe the healing that occured on that trip was a way for God to comfort June and help him find peace.

Now I have another little mystery - one of Russ Jr.'s brothers has been out of contact for several years. I think I know where he is. ..

Well, hello there

June, we hardly knew you.

I spent this still cold March day at my home away from home, the Minnesota Historical Society library, doing research. I decided to see if I could find some probate records or wills of ancestors. I found the will of two of my 3rd grand-uncles, George F. Dickinson and Norman L. Dickinson. Lo and behold, it seems George had a son I had never heard of or seen any records of whatsoever. His name was June Russell Dickinson. Now, I thought, it can't be that hard to find records for a man named June. I finally found birth records for two men born in the 40's whose father was Russell June Dickinson - and from there I found Russell June's death record, which contained the name of his father (sure enough, George Dickinson) and mother, Julia Burkhardt. I did several searches through census records and finally found a June Dickinson who, at age 7, was living with a Edward and Julia Monroe in 1895.

Well, before you know it I've created all sorts of stories - what happened that little June was separated from his daddy before he was 7? Were George and Julia married - it would apear so, since June is named "Dickinson." How often did June and George get to see one another over the years? They did not live in the same county, and this was the early 1900's after all.

The will leaves June a sum of $25.oo, and George's other three children with his (second?) wife, Nettie, were left acerage, the remainder left to Nettie.

Hmmmm. Looks like another blended family mystery to unravel. My next move is to map out June's stepfamily as best as I can, track their locations and his half-siblings. If I get lucky I may be able to connect with one of his children or grandchildren, and fill in some of the mystery. I already feel emphathy for this stranger/cousin. Did he go to war? Was he surprised by his father's will? Did he always wonder how things might have been if his father was around? Was his stepfather kind to him?

I will never know all the answers, but one thing my research has taught me very well - everyone has a story. Sooner or later, we encounter the hard bits of life. For June, it looks like it might have been sooner.

UPDATE: 3-31-08

I have found June Russell's mom and stepdad in the census in Oregon in 1900 and 1910, along with his half brother, Louis. Russell (from now I'll just call him Russell) is not with them. He was only 12 in 1900, so he must be living with someone, somewhere. I have searched all the census records with every sort of configuration and misspelling I can think of, but can't find him anywhere. This is where all my persistence will have to kick in. He can't keep hiding from me forever!!!! I have found his social security number, and have written to the SSA for a copy of his original application, under the freedom of information act. I will try to track down Russell's children if they are still in the area.

I have also determined that Russell's parents, George and Julia, were indeed married at some point - the census shows that Julia's marriage to Edward Monroe is the second for them both. So perhaps I will be able to find a marriage record and divorce decree. With this adventure I have also found two other 'lost boys', Floyd and Earl, first cousins of Russell, nephews of George, living with George's brother, Norman, in Red Wing. Floyd and Earl's father, Charles, appears to have died, along with his wife, when the boys were young. Norman raised them, but later Floyd worked for George on his farm ( according to Floyd's WW1 draft record). So why were Floyd and Earl taken in by the family and working the land of Russell's dad, but Russell is not?

Why was Russell left behind when his mom and stepdad and brother went west? And who took him in? I just can't imagine leaving a 12 year old (or younger) in Minnesota while the rest of the family traveled to Oregon, maybe never to return. There were no quick forms of transportation in those days, no jets or super fast trains. Julia had to know she would rarely or never see Russell after leaving.

The immediate goal is to find Russell in the 1900 US census, the 1905 Minneosta census, and go from there. Since I have no other information on Julia's family, I will have to find out who they were as well, in case he is living with them and the census taker wrote his last name as Burkhardt instead of Dickinson.

stay tuned......

UPDATE 4/1/08

Yesterday evening I had a little tickle in my mind while working on this puzzle. I thought I remembered finding a little blurb in an old Pine Island Minnesota paper about George visiting Pierre, South Dakota with his brother Ed. There was a great migration to the Dakota territory in the latter half of the 19th century, the land was opened up for homesteading, and the newspapers of that era are full of notes about families packing up and heading out west. My own gggrandad lived near Pierre for a few years, one of his sons was born there. He faced numerous disasters there and returned to Minnesota - as did many families. Turns out the free land wasn't always worth the price. I looked through my postings on Ancestry.com for George -and sure enough, there was the item from October of 1885, George and his brother Edward had returned from a visit to Pierre, their former home. My gggrandfather was still living there in 1885, his son was born in 1887. Hmmm. Maybe this is why they are not in the Minnesota census in 1885. However, I'm not sure how this will help - unless it turns out Julia's family was also in Dakota, and they met there. I've got to get back to the library and figure out when George took over the farm in Minnesota. And look back over those old newspapers from the area with an eye to finding Russell in school records or - AH SCHOOL RECORDS!!! Why didn't I think of that before? Russell had to be in school somewhere. Down the rabbit trail I go. Wish me luck.

Harley Man

The other day, I was trying to remember just what exactly happened to me that turned me into a genealogy freak. It was only a few years ago that I wasn't even interested enough to join a party visiting the local cemetery at a family reunion, for which I now severely chastise myself.
So, I mentally tried to backtrack through the last three or so years, finding the stream from which this 'magnificent obsession' bubbles. I think I found the headwaters, at least the ones above the surface.
My husband, Mark, was and is interested in all things with motors and wheels. He had been looking at motorcycles, and we were trying to determine what sort of bike my father had ridden back in the 'day.' For some reason, I had in my mind that he had owned an Indian cycle. All I had was this picture to draw from, so we went on an internet hunt for a cycle that looked like the one on which my father was perched in this picture from his post WWII road trip. The evidence we were finding was that this machine was a Harley, not an Indian. I decided to get some help from my dad's brothers, and asked if they remembered my dad's bike. They refered me to his cousin, Dick, who actually made a road trip from Minnesota to Yellowstone on motorcyles with my dad, a friend and another cousin. Dick confirmed that my dad's bike was indeed a Harley and also graciously shared some other memories with me. He told me tales of my fun-loving father as a kid and as an adult friend. Somehow, this took me somewhat by surprise. I realized how much we assume we know about our parents - and how little we actually see them as completely separate human beings. How many stories we have totally made up to fill in the gaps in our actual knowledge of them!
I recalled sitting at my maternal grandmother's funeral, a woman who I felt I knew so well, and finding out how limited my knowledge of her really was. The way her friends remembered her, I was humbled and saddened by how much I missed by not being present to the reality of who this woman really was. I realized that my own daughter naturally assumes so many things about me that are only an interpretation of a small part of my story. A shift in my perspective began. I felt like I had been seeing only a reflection (darkly) of my family members, and suddenly I swiveled around and took a look at them right in front of me. It was almost like they were standing there, surrounding me, waiting for me. Asking me to SEE them, to embrace our intertwined history and biology, to become part of the stream of time and story, to carry on the oral and written history begun by others. It seemed like something outside myself came and pointed at me, announcing, "You! You are the chosen one, get busy!" It was irresistible. This is the biggest adventure of all.

Waiting for Aidan

I have just recieved word that my dear niece is in labor with her first child, a boy, Aidan. The news instantly swoops me back in time to the day my neice was born, ironically, in the same town and same hospital. She is in her final year of medical school, as was her father when she entered this life.

Allison made me an aunt for the first time, and I was surprised by the tremendous rush of love I felt for her when I first heard her little cry over the phone. A couple of years ago at her wedding, I was able to share that experience with her, it moves me still to remember it.

Blessings on you, little niece, and blessing on you little Aidan, you who will birth a new grandmother and grandfather, and two grand-aunts.

I cannot wait to meet you.