I went home last September to visit mom. We had a great time together and she seems to be flourishing in the nursing home. She's lost about 50 lbs along with three medications she was taking prior to the weight loss. Her blood sugar and thyroid seem to be under control, her breathing is better and she has much more stamina. She presented me with a huge box of the old family photos, passing the torch of the family history. I was overwhelmed. She knew that I was investigating the genealogy of the family and thought that I would like to put some faces with the names and dates. We went through the albums one at a time, many of them belong to my grandma and grandpa and I finally got to "meet" many of my great-grandparents brothers and sisters along with their spouses and children.
I can't describe to you very well how this had an impact on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I looked into their faces for the first time and made the connection that these people were finally real for me. I almost cried when I saw the photos of my great-great grandma Anna. She came over from Austria as a widow with her two children back in 1882. I'd found the grave marker of this gutsy woman and imagined what life must have been like to start over again in a new country, but here she was in my hands, the lines written heavily on her face and her piercing eyes looking back at me.
I don't have any information yet on her immigration, who she was meeting, where she was heading. I know she wound up in Kidder County in North Dakota. I don't know what she did upon her arrival or how she made ends meet. All I know is that she was living with her son John and his wife Jennie in 1900 when her grandson Joe was born.
My grandpa Joe Schindler, was born in North Dakota in 1900. His brother John was killed in WWI and his sister Anna died during the flu pandemic of 1918. Anna left behind a journal she wrote during what was to be the last year of her own life and that of John's. She started writing the journal so she could keep track of what was happening at home and write letters to her brother in France. I found this journal among Mom's old photo albums that she gave to me when she moved to the nursing home. I just got around to reading it last week.
Anna's journal starts with some poems she had to memorize while she was in school like "A Million Little Diamonds" and "Songs of the Winds. The lyrics to some songs that were popular back in those days are also here like "Keep a Place in your Heart for Me, Dear" and "Farewell, Sweetheart May." She wrote her journal in cursive, alternating between pencil and pen and ink. You could see as the pen started to go dry when she would dip it into the ink and the words would darken again. She started noting her days in April, a few months after her big brother left for France. Her dad was the county assessor and spent most of his days working in town, her mom had passed away the previous Christmas, so that left her with all the housework while her younger brother (my grandpa) worked out in the fields.
She mentioned the mundane baking and cleaning, Joe plowing and drilling out on the farm. She talked about the mules, Queenie and Pansy and how Pansy was more stubborn of the two to get to work. Neighbors come and go, some buy chickens or eggs. She donated pillow slips to the boys heading out on the train and donated food to the Red Cross. She wrote letters to her brother about twice a week, with notes in the back of the journal on the dates they were sent and dates she received cards back from him. She also noted when her neighbors got sick from the flu, some recovered and some didn't and she attended a few funerals. She kept track of the military drafts even after John left. She got to see some moving pictures, go to barn dances and church socials. Six months pass and her last journal notation was just after she sent her letter to John in October. "Received telegraph Johnny was dead."
She wrote down a poem in the back of the book separated by several blank pages from where she'd been keeping her daily journal, "The Death of the Flowers." Within two months after putting this journal aside, she herself passed away from the flu. I feel privileged to have this journal and to know what life was like for this young woman who passed away at only 24 years old.