Recording trauma for posterity

I woke up at 5 am this morning, rolled over grumbling, and then turned on the news. Shock, horror, and disbelief was what I went though for the rest of the morning.  Maybe you have listened to or watched the news on and off during the day listening to the story unfold.  For me, I turned to my black notebook. The one where I store my feelings and thoughts on what could be considered important dates in history for a variety of reasons.

When I was newly married I attended the traditional holiday dinner held at a local restaurant for my mother's family. I had not attended in years.  College was in the way. I had, you know, stuff to do.  This time however I was living in the area again and a new mom who really needed to get out of the house. 

The conversation turned to asking the older members at the table where they were on certain days in history.  Pearl Harbor, JFK's assassination, the moon landing and etc. My great aunts and uncles spoke about the events, and one of them spoke about how important it would be for future generations to document OUR stories on the events we live through for our posterity. How else would our descendants learn about or know us better? These words have stuck with me.

While you may not create a black notebook of doom (as I secretly call it) you may want to think about recording your thoughts and feelings on various events that have occurred during your lifetime. I mean, we are the best people to record our own history right? Even if it is hard, one day it may bring us perspective, or closure, on events.

I have written my views, thoughts, hopes, and prayers today in my journal. In my gut I know I am going to be writing more over the next few weeks.

The Book of Me Written by You: Still chugging along

I have been plugging and chugging away on this project, but not online.  A lot of the topics have called for more intimate reflection and even though I love you all, it is the internet.  So, I have taken to writing my thoughts on the weekly subjects in a word document.  One day it should make an interesting heirloom for the ancestors to read.

We are up to week 21 for those of you who were wondering.  If you want to start from the beginning you can go to the website for the creator of this prompt and check it out. Julie Goucher writes the blog Angler's Rest and she has an excellent post to get get you started.

Of course the questions and topics that she asks has just given me fodder to send on to my parents and in-laws for the books I bought them 2 years ago.  A couple of them admitted that they hadn't written in them yet when we visited last.  I told them that was okay, I don't want to push, but I did get my spirit crushed a little.  I hope they keep their promises of trying to answer my boys questions, and adding more, because 1) the boys really want them to and 2) I think this will be a great piece of history for the kids after their grandparents have passed.  Which lead me to thoughts that I need to keep up with this project.

There is not a better time for you to try a hand at journal writing if you don't already.  First, and the easiest way I think, is to turn a research journal into a more personal one.  While the research geeks in us love all the tid-bits found in a well organized research journal, think about the other things you could add that will make you family wish they knew you better in the future.  What was the drive like to the repository?  Any stories about the people you are researching that might get lost in a generation or two?  Well, why not write them down where you are adding the facts?

Alright, back to the grindstone.  Classwork, researching, and writing projects are on my to-do list for the day while my kids enjoy, another, snow day.  Sigh...

Book of Me Written by You: Journaling

I tried on and off for many years to keep a journal, I was just never very successful.  My first was given to me when I was 6 by my maternal grandmother.  I can remember it very clearly.  It was huge in my little hands, with a Holly Hobbie motif and glided edges.  Not really knowing what to do with it, and being in first grade, my entries talked about all sorts of things.  Entries were erratic and covered topics from what happened at school to how unfair my parents were.  The diary was lost long ago, but I have to say I wish I could see it now.  It probably would cause me to giggle.

My next diary was given to me by my paternal grandmother when I was 10.  It quickly became less about what was actually happening in my life and what I wish my life was like. Then and in the future.  At 10, or 5^th grade, I had a lot of turmoil in my life.  To be honest I really don’t know why.  My family life was fine but I was making poor choices with friends, getting into trouble, and being rebellious in many ways to put it mildly.  My journaling was the way I escaped from reality.  It was pure fantasy, written like it was really happening.  I wrote on and off in it until I was 12 and then I lost it during a move.  Then, quite by chance, I found it in the bottom of a trunk when I was 16.  Appalled by what I read, and scared people might think that was really what went on in my life then, I burned it.

In college my recording of events, thoughts, and emotions came from my calendars.  I kept very in-depth calendars of my class and work schedules.  In the margins I made comments about what was going on when, hearts around important dates, and other little symbols to remind me of people and groups.  In fact, my calendar only recently went from handwritten to digital, and that was at the prompting of my husband.  For the last year I have used my calendar on the computer for my appointments, and you could say this site for my thoughts.  Well, at least my genealogy thoughts.

There is also a partial journal from when I was pregnant with my oldest child.  At the time I thought it would be a wonderful heirloom; a written record of the appointments, thoughts, and happenings surrounding the birth of our first child.  It abruptly stops at 25 weeks, the time my oldest was born via emergency C-section, and the start of the rollercoaster ride that comes with being a NICU parent.  I kept daily accounts of that time and put them into a scrap book for my son.  It was my  therapy to say the least.

Several years ago I began a private livejournal account.  I loved my livejournal.  Yes, I said loved.  To be honest since I started writing here more and writing other places more frequently, writing for me fell to the wayside.  I keep telling myself I will go back, it just hasn’t happened yet.  What I love is that I was able to make a book out of all the journal entries I created.  Now, even if I lose my account, I won’t lose my memories. 

One day I will learn life balance and will be able to write what I want, when I want, how I want, and

hopefully that means I will pick up journal writing again.  Not, just recording dates, names, and places.  Cause we all know that is boring! 

Making discoveries with a family journal

 Persian Column, Perspolis, Iran
Grandpa visited this site

The last few days have seen a whirlwind visit by my h­­usband’s father and step-mother.  They of course came to see the boys, we totally understand grandparents don’t come to see us anymore, but we all had a great time.  There were driving tours of the countryside, way too much food, talking about all manner of subjects, and of course a bit of family history.

I did corner my father-in-law and ask him to go through my grandfather’s journal with me.  He is a metallurgist and rocket scientist (no jokes) and is familiar with what my grandfather did while in the military.  We spent two days going page by page reading and deciphering the journal entries.  I pulled up Google maps and traced his routes through the mountains of Iran.  When we found the entry that simply stated “killed a cinnamon bear. It’s a beauty, about 600 pounds.” I cheered, couldn't help myself. That entry dates the picture I have of him and the bear to 7 April 1957.

It was nice to have someone familiar with military abbreviations and designations sitting there with me.  He helped me figure out key phrases to search the internet with.  This was a fantastic because I gained a lot more information on the operation he was involved with than I ever would have before.

­­My grandfather was involved with the Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG) Iran.  These men were military advisers who assisted the native military in the country they were sent to.  From his journal I saw that he oversaw training of several different areas of military function and wrote reports for his superiors and the corresponding Iranian officers on how the troops were progressing.  It was entertaining at times, and down right disheartening at others.

In searching for explanations and information I came across several interesting declassified documents from that time frame.  Included in those findings was this report from the US Government Accountability Office (GAO) on the review of the Military Assistance Program for Iran.  The review was conducted in November 1957, the month my grandfather left.  You can read the full report here. 

The real shocker was discovering an episode of The Big Picture.  It was a documentary style TV series that ran in the 1950s and early 1960s.  Essentially this was the way the Army kept the American people informed about historic events around the world.  It prided itself on current events and moments that made the Army proud.  In one episode titled “Military Assistance Advisory Group: Iran” Mike Wallace takes the American people to Iran and shows them about this important operation.  If you watch it, notice how the American’s on the ground are decidedly downplayed.

This has been a real adventure the last couple days and I have to admit fascinating too.  Sometime in the near future I will go back through the journal again.  This time cataloging all the names, places, and tid-bits that I can.  These may lead me to further clues about who my grandfather was working with and what he was doing. I love it when I can find family links with historical contexts.  Now I am off to share all this with my history loving oldest child.

Glimpse into the past: Journal of Charles Arvin

View of Khorramabad, Iran by: m.gh

I seem to have hit a slump in my research and my time.  Has to happen every so often, but darn is it frustrating.  Lately my time has been spent going through files, organizing papers (digital and real), and cleaning up “stuff” in my workspace.  Yesterday I spent 6 hours cleaning out/off my desk…wow…what a difference a clean desk makes!

The one thing that has my attention, when I have time to lay my hands on it, is my grandfather’s journal from 1957.  My mother gave it to me to read when I was home last month.  It is his daily journal chronicling his time stationed in Iran working with the army of the Shah.  Yes, I said Iran.  He did a tour of duty there training the military in firing artillery.  My grandfather was in the ADA (air defense artillery) during his time in the service, and from what I can tell, had some pretty good times over there.

The journal starts on 5 January 1957 with him departing from Ft. Dix New Jersey at 1430 hours.  Grandpa traveled first to McGuire AFB then onto Lajes AFB in the Azores, Wheelus AFB in Libya, Dhahran AFB in Saudi Arabia, and then to Tehran.  From there he took a train to his home for the next year in Khorramabad.  He arrived at 2350 hours on 13 January 1957.

“Up early to get ready to leave.  Departed Tehran at 1100 hours by train. I goofed tipped the porters at the station 200 Rials = $2.64 hell of a tip for 5 suitcases.  They put one over on me. But I learned. The train is very nice European style cars first class each passenger has a Pullman birth to a compartment. I, Capt Ward, an Englishman, and an Iranian Businessman occupied the same compartment. The train is diesel Electric but goes very slow. Most of the trip to Dorude was thru the mountains. We arrived at Dorude at 2100 hours was met by trucks from the team. Arrived at Khorramabad my house for the next year at 2350 hours. What a place.”

Grandpa and the bear

One of his favorite pastimes, it appears, was to go hunting with his fellow officers.  In fact, less than 24 hours at his new duty station and he was off hunting.  I know he went hunting for gazelles, bears, duck, and pigeons to name a couple I have read about so far.  My mom has a picture of her dad with the bear he shot while in Iran, his one big game prize.  Unfortunately when it was sent out to be turned into a rug, it was destroyed beyond repair.  Mom says her dad was upset about that till the day he died.  I even remember my grandmother telling me how there should have been a bear skin rug in the house.

His diary ends on 28 November and I don’t know why he didn’t continue through to the end of the year.  He only had one more month left to go in his tour before coming back to his family stateside.  I know this is going to be an interesting read, even if it is dry at times, because it is something my grandfather wrote.  He died before I was born and all I have are the stories my family tells me. This diary is the closest thing I have to him talking to me.

My life: William Brennan

One of the treasures my aunt has sent me was a photocopy of a page from a journal written by my 2nd great grandfather William Maurice Brennan.  It has been a mission of mine to find his parents and locate the family homeland in County Galloway, Ireland.  This page has given me a few more clues to places to look for research. 

Washington Ind Oct. 7^th 1918

William Morris Brennan first saw the light of day in the City of Nashville Tenn. In the year of Our Lord 1860 born of Irish parents.  Fathers name John Brennan Mothers name Bridget Gerahty Brennan they were both born in the County of Gollway Ireland.  Our family consisted of two boys and one girl. My brother Tim was born in the City of Baltimore Md. in the year 1858 William was born in the City of Nashville Tenn in the year 1860 and Sister Mary was born in the City of Madison Ind. in the year of Our Lord 1862.  Our Mother died in 1862 and was buried at North Madison Ind.  After our mothers death the two boys were sent to the orphante home at Highland Vincennes Ind and sister was sent to the Orphants home for the girls with the Sisters of Providence at Vincennes Ind.  We never saw our father after that.  But we heard from our Uncle TH Brennan in Kansas City Mo. that he was killed while working for the Kansas City Ft. Scott and Gulf R.R. in Kansas City Mo in 1875.  When brother Tim was ten years of age at the orphants home he was placed out.  Was sent to Uncle John McGovern on a farm about 5 miles south of Loogootee Ind and about half a mile from Whitfield Church.  In the year 1872 I followed brother Tim to the McGovern farm where we both remained until Aunt Ellens Death in the year 1879.  After her death Our home was broken up.  Tim went to Chicago Ill to seek his Fortune while I went to an ajoining farm and worked for Michel Doweny one year this was 1880.