My hero, part two

Once again, my dear husband Mark has surprised me with his simple grace, wisdom and beauty. He is truly one of the few people I have met that is without guile.

I never would have guessed that he would enter blogworld, much less blow me away by what he offers here.

I like surprises.

Thanks, Mark.

Through the looking glass, darkly

I used to have a recurring dream as a child that was terrifying and incomprehensible at the same time. I still cannot properly explain the content, except to say that, like Alice's tumble though the looking glass, it involved my becomming smaller and smaller, thinner and thinner, until at last I was about the size of a single piece of spagetti, and I knew that it would only be a matter of  time before I would cease to exist and there was nothing within my control to stop it

I had forgotten all about the dream until a few months ago, and I'm not sure what triggered the memory, except it was something in a discussion with my friend Terri about being invisible, and how close we have sometimes gotten to achieving it. The problem with trying to be invisible is (at least) two fold. Number one, you might suceed. Number two, you might become invisible to yourself, a very strong possibility for me.

An introvert by nature, my growing up years projected me into the spotlight in ways that I didn't choose. My family was somewhat conspicuous in our community, my mother was in a wheelchair, and my father was teaching in our midsize church-run school. (Comet Dust, Time after Time) We had few material resources when many around us were wealthy. Toss in the added attention that came with a gift of music, performing and being complemented on this regularly. If that sounds like it might be fun, it was not. It felt like an invasion of privacy for strangers to be giving compliments, when they didn't KNOW me at all. Just as it was an invasion to have casual acquaintances pry into the circumstances of our lives, or give a look of pity for our family's difficulties. I realized that I was in some way invisible in that moment. I noticed I couldn't seem to project who I was beyond and above being part of a particular family, part of a particular tragedy, more than talent, beauty or intellegence just handed to me through my dna.

There is one thing I have struggled to achieve all my life, and that is to get the inside and outside to match. Maybe feeling like I was invisible outside, I tried to be invisible to myself on the inside. I have almost succeeded many times.

I am aware that I will never really match the inside and outside perfectly, that what people see will always be through their own filters, how I imagine I am projecting myself will never be completely accurate. My dream, with the help of God and others, is to have the looking glass become more of an honest reflection, until there is less distortion between who I am and what I 'be.'

I invite all who venture here to be part of that process. If you notice me trying to be invisible, maybe it will help to know you still see me.

My hero

My husband, who is my best friend, favorite companion, and my go-to guy (among other attributes!) has ventured into blogland. He is a man of action and not a lot of words, but the ones he shares are choice. His first post is up, so give a welcome to Mark if you have a minute -


















http://www.jusbeinginthemoment.blogspot.com/

There are angels on earth

My three angels, 2008 April, Isaiah and Peter

Anyone who knows me for about 15 seconds will learn that I have the most beautiful and intelligent grandchildren ever born. I am so grateful for them, it is hard to explain. When my April-precious was born, it was like a clean slate for me, a message that God still had faith in me somehow, after all the mess ups, all the failures, all the pain I had inflicted and suffering I had caused, here was another chance. That could be seen as really, really risky on His part, as indeed it is. To entrust me, even at the once-removed post of grandparent, with a child as beautiful, spiritually in tune and magnificent at this little girl was a gift that changed me forever. I think I was born then. I awoke again.

Of course I adore all three and each are equally wonderful. But the initial wake up call I was graced with upon the birth of April Rose is forever lit in my memory with a incomparable glow. She is my twin flame and she, along with Isaiah, Peter and my fantastic daughter, Lauren, are one of the most important reasons I was born. I guess God loves me after all.

Snakes in Sheep's Clothing

I have a lot of dreams. Very interesting dreams. Sometimes they are random neurons firing through whatever stimuli my brain has encountered during the day. More often, though, I find God is able to get my attention while I am asleep much more efficiently than when I am awake. He is very, very creative, let me tell you. And funny, too. Since He made my brain, He gets how it works and how I think and process things in ways that are extremely difficult for me to articulate, finding even the best language limited in its usefulness.

Which brings me to the title. I had a very typically wild dream a couple of nights ago, and one of the interesting occurences was that several folks I encountered in the dream had pet snakes on a leash. The snakes themselves didn't look normal, even for a snake. Their heads were sort of hollow and folded over, kind of like a cobra only more extreme. They were all black. They kept "jumping' up on me, like a dog. (Don't ask me how a snake jumps, I have no idea and indeed if they ever figure out how to do it in real life I don't want to know about it!) I kept insisting to the snake owners that I hated snakes, that I didn't want them in my house, leashed or not, that I didn't want them near me or jumping on me. The owners paid no attention, other than to look at me with bemusement. I finally left the house, only to find folks on the street with their pet snakes, but now it was sort of like a "Project Runway" for snakes. They were all dressed in elaborate outfits, hats and feathers and what not. Someone told me that their snake was dressed in "jealousy." Its outfit was all in red, silk and felt and sequins. Finally, and with relief, I woke up. (I hate snakes! hAAAAAAAAAAAAte them.)

When I came out of my sleepy fog, I suddenly got the revelation that the pet snakes were representations of temptation. All dressed up and paraded around, presumably under the owner's control (the leash), but snakes nevertheless.

And I will leave you to your own editorializing. As for me, I had to laugh. God got me a good one.

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.