No coincidences!

I've written multiple times about coincidences and serendipity, which frankly, I don't believe in. I know these wonderful events happen for a reason - a glance in just the right direction, opening a book to just the right place, a person in the right place at the right time. That happened during my recent fall break, when I went with my friend Sue to Massachusetts, where we wallowed in history, including some family history. We drove down to Plymouth to find the final resting place of her ancestor the Reverend Chandler Robbins (1738-1799), who was interred with his wife Jane (Prince) in Plymouth's Burial Hill Cemetery. The cemetery itself is chock full of history - it was the location of the first fort the Pilgrims built, as it gives a spectacular prospect out over Plymouth in every direction.

As we drove up the hill to the cemetery, we noticed a beautiful stone church adjacent to the cemetery. Sue wondered aloud if we could take a peek inside, and I hoped so too!

As we turned right to find a parking place, Sue decided to drive around the block behind the cemetery, but as it was a one way street, we had to just drive around the other way and come in by the church again. As we parked in front of an old black pickup truck, Sue went to conquer the parking meter app and I looked around. A gentleman came running up from the church shouting "You're not going to give me a ticket, ah ya?" (accent included). No, I reassured him, we weren't the meter maids, we were just trying to take care of paying the meter. He and I got to chatting, and I mentioned my grandmother was born in Plymouth, her name was Mary Guidetti. "Oh," he said, "she must have worked for the Plymouth Cordage Company!" Impressed by his knowledge of Plymouth history, I told him that she didn't, but her father and uncles did. Then he told us he had been a firefighter in Dedham, Mass. Dedham? Well, didn't I have several generations of family who lived in Dedham? I told him so and mentioned Wenz and Vautrinot. His jaw dropped and he grabbed my arm. "Mary Wenz?!? I LOVED Mary Wenz! She WAS the American Legion!!" Mary Wenz was my Mom's first cousin - their fathers were brothers. And after speaking for a few minutes, he had me talked into donating Mary's father's photo album to the Dedham Historical Society.

Philip Wenz fought in World War One and was invited back by the town in France they had liberated. Phil was a photographer and labeled the photographs very carefully. I have always wanted it to go to a good home where it can do some good.

As it turns out, Nick is also involved in the refurbishing of the beautiful old stone church, the First Parish Church. The building we saw is the fifth church built on the site, the first constructed in 1648 (the original fort on Burial Hill was also their first gathering place for church services). So, we not only got that peek, we got the cook's tour!

Inside the foyer was a plaque commemorating the ministers of the First Parish Church from 1606 to 1922. Included in the list was Sue's ancestor Chandler Robbins!

Coincidence? Serendipity? You be the judge...

Unintended Consequences

 I've said it before - there are no coincidences in family history! So here is part one of a continuing saga of my Italian ancestors:

A few years ago, as I was serving in our church's temple in Atlanta, Georgia, I felt, rather than heard, my late grandmother say: "What have you done for my people?" (And that's exactly how she would have said that!) Well, Italian research is not easy. Although Italian culture stretches back thousands of years, Italy as a nation was not unified until 1861. Before that time, records are primarily found in the Catholic Church. I did have a great deal of success back in the late 1970s by writing to the local mayor in Cento, in the Province of Ferrara. But beyond that, I haven't researched much more than that. On paper, my surnames from Italy are: Guidetti, Fortini, Tassinari, Campana and Tosi. So I set that thought on the back burner and continued research on the other branches of our family's tree.

Just after last Christmas last year, I came across an envelope of my Gramie's newspaper clippings. As I sorted through them to determine their genealogical value, I found the obituary of her first cousin's husband, Humbert Pirani. He married Lucy Guidetti, daughter of Umberto and Louisa (Ardizzoni) Guidetti. 

I added Humbert to my familysearch tree, and as I usually do with new relatives, added him to my ancestry tree as well. Boy, did that make the green leaves bloom! I finally created a separate tree in ancestry just for Humbert and his family. Now I have over 2,000 names in that tree!

A few interesting developments have come from building Humbert's family tree:

• There are many other surnames in my DNA match list beyond the names on my paper tree, and many appear in the Pirani tree: Balboni, Breveglieri, Tangerini, Cavicchi, Gallerani, Ferrari, Pacheco and Barbieri. 
• One of my great-grandmother's brother came to Massachusetts, a previously unknown fact.
• Often on pages of documents relating to the Pirani tree, I would find names from my own tree. Now to connect the dots and see how they relate to me.
• One of my best friends in high school was Donna Marzilli. That name shows up in the Pirani tree.
• I have a good friend whose last name is St. Onge. He's from Haverhill, MA. Some of Humbert's relatives married St. Onges.
• Recently I was given the wedding guest book of my great-aunt's wedding in 1937. Helen Dorothy Smith was my grandfather Edmund Smith's sister. She married Amerigo James Guidetti. His sister Mary married Edmund. Confused yet? But in the wedding guest book I found more linked surnames from the Pirani tree: Gallerani, Ferrari, Baldi, Malaguti, Alberghini and Bergonzoni.
• I've always known that Ferruccio Lamborghini was also born in Cento. Now the Lamborghini name appears in the Pirani tree ten times!

One of the best things about this research has been learning more about my own Italian ancestors. It seems that the vast majority of the Italian immigrants who came to Plymouth as my great-grandparents did worked for the Plymouth Cordage Company. I was able to visit the museum at the former building while we were in Massachusetts last summer. I learned how it was that so many of the people from the Province of Ferrara came to Plymouth. 

So like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get! Stay tuned...

What are the odds?

 I love cemeteries! Any cemetery will do, but mostly the old ones. My mother calls them open air museums. And she should know, as she served for several years as the Commissioner of Cemeteries for the State of Rhode Island. She even made the New York Times! https://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/29/us/29land.html

So on a recent visit to my home state of Massachusetts, my husband and I made a point of visiting Mount Auburn Cemetery in Massachusetts. Mount Auburn is significant because it was the first designed garden cemetery in the United States, different from a church graveyard. It is also significant as the final resting place of historical figures as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Edwin Land, Julia Ward Howe, Arthur Schlesinger Jr, Robert Gould Shaw, Winslow Homer, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Fannie Farmer, Williamina Stevens Fleming, Nathaniel Bowditch, Charles Sumner, Charles Bulfinch, Dorothea Dix and Doc Edgerton, to name a few. (If you don’t know who these folks are, it would be worth your while to learn). 

The view from the Longfellow family plot.

Nathaniel Bowditch, considered the father of modern maritime navigation.

The Boston skyline from one of the hills at Mount Auburn.

Commemorative monument to Union soldiers who lost their lives in the Civil War.

Mount Auburn is a beautiful spot, covered in trees and shrubs and laid out in a leisurely manner that invites wandering. After Mount Auburn, we decided to visit another cemetery on the way back to my brother’s in Belmont, a suburb of Boston, appropriately named Belmont Cemetery. We had no particular connection to the cemetery other than it was on the way back. There were a few findagrave photo requests that I could search for. 

When I get to a cemetery like that, I like to find the oldest section. There in Belmont, I found the surname Trenholm, which I recognized from my husband’s family tree, with burials that dated back to 1858. His Trenholms came from Yorkshire, England to Nova Scotia. Further descendants migrated west to Ontario and then into Michigan. But why not? So I photographed all the Trenholms I found. 

While posting the photos to findagrave, I also checked to see if the family was on familysearch, and indeed it was, but only partly. Some folks were missing, and there were duplicates as well. While I was putting it all together, I decided to check to see if there was a relationship between these Massachusetts Trenholms and my husband’s family. Indeed there is - George Willard Trenholm, the father of the family buried in Belmont, was a sister to Mary Trenholm, who married Thomas Keillor Jr. Apparently this branch of the family migrated from Nova Scotia to Boston.

What are the odds? There is nothing coincidental in family history. 

Belmont Cemetery is a beautiful spot and is well cared for. 

Car Talk with Ed Smith

 Now in my 60s, I've experienced cleaning out the homes of two of our parents. It has certainly taught me a lesson or two about what should be kept and what should be tossed! But in going through my dad's voluminous papers, some things of historical interest have come to light.

No doubt, Ed was a car guy. But it is clear that he came by it honestly:

Left, above: Ed's father, Edd (with two “d”s) on the right and his brother Bernard on the left on the running board of Edd's Model A. Right, above: Ed's Aunt Agnes, Edd & Bernard's baby sister. On the back is written "Sept 16, 1958, Agnes in her new caddy"

As he would have been 18 in 1953, this is probably not his first driver’s license, especially since he registered this 1947 Ford a few days earlier. If you look closely at the license plate on the picture below you can see that this is the tan Ford Club Coupe. It’s parked in front of his parents’ home at 14 Robert Ave, in Whitman, MA. It must have been a challenge to drive that in the snow, as Robert Ave was on a steep hill!

 

In 1953, he paid $695 to Jesse James Motors in Whitman and then paid $3.50 to the State of Massachusetts to register it. 

   

Other than the three registrations below, I have not located any paperwork on the vehicle shown above, but it’s probably his “Hawaiian Bronze” 1951 Ford Victoria Coupe. My  Uncle Kevin recalls: “I remember when and where this was taken...the ‘scenic’ highway from the Sagamore bridge to the Bourne bridge, there's a place you can pull off the road to take pictures etc... if you look closely, that's Gramie and me (Kevin) in the back seat.  You can't really make me out, but it must be since I remember being there.” Standing on the left is my Grampa Edd Smith and on the right is Johnny “Doc” Bucken, a family friend.

Next came a 1946 Willys Jeep Pickup, purchased in June of 1956 for $375.00.

    

Clearly, a Jeep for all seasons! The receipt indicates that it came with a snow plow. 

    

Saquish Beach at Plymouth. My Uncle Shawn, my Mom, my Gramie and Ginger, the Irish setter with her face in the grass. Those must have been some great times!

 

That's my Mom in the passenger seat.

It was about this time that Ed enlisted in the U.S. Army and was sent to Germany. My mother joined him, and before you know it, here I am! Check out my first wheels:

My Dad on the left, his Army buddy "Malliew" on the right,
so dubbed because apparently he did everything backwards. 

I have no paperwork on the next two vehicles, but thanks to the internet, research suggests the first is a 1951 Borgward Hansa 1500, parked here overlooking the scenic beauty of Germany. Looks like I'm ready to go!

The pictures below appear to be a Mercedes-Benz Typ 230 (W153) 1938-1943. I know they took several road trips during their time in Germany, they went to France and Holland that I knew of. 

Me & Ed. Note the suicide doors. 

My stylin' Mom.

I think this was in the back of our apartment.

Still ready to go!

Now back in the States, Ed has to scratch that itch—this time with a 1954 Ford Victoria Hard Top Convertible, bought in September of 1960 for $425. At the time, they were living on Taylor street in Pembroke, MA.

 

Now living on Fullerton Ave in Whitman, Ed bought a 1959 Peugeot 403 from Flanagan & Seaton Motors in Brookline. At some point, Flanagan & Seaton moved to Jamaica Plain and were still in existence until 2015 when a fire wiped out the building, which had apparently already been slated for demolition. 

Ed was infamous throughout the family
(and likely the corporate world)
for his prodigious letter writing.

I have a very vague memory of being in the back seat of a small dark car. Still have the rabbit.

I remember going to parades a lot, as well as the fireworks displays at Studley’s Pond on 123 in Rockland.

 

He must have hung on to the Peugot for awhile, because this is the driveway to the house at 82 Linden Street in Whitman, with my little brother Michael. 

Now we come to Ed’s first car bought new, and financed: a 1965 VW Bug. Looks like it’s parked in front of 14 Robert Ave.

 

Once the VW was paid for, the Jeep itch needed to be scratched, especially to go down to the beach! In 1967 he paid $1,100 for this 1961 Willys Jeep 4WD. The photo was taken at Duxbury Beach-first place I remember the feeling of sunburn. I can also hear in my mind the rumble of the wheels over the wooden Powder Point Bridge. Ed built the wooden box atop the Jeep to keep our gear in.

 

We spent a lot of weekends on the beach and had some fun times!

 
Here's how Ed paid for that fun: He drove a truck through the streets and alleyways of Boston. 

According to my Uncle Shawn, they did a lot of fishing at Monponsett. He said: “Before we went out in the boat, your grandfather would always say, ‘did we remember the walnut’.  To which we would answer, ‘what?’ He'd say, ‘you know, the pee-can’” Then there was the occasion when the boat came off the trailer on the way home, I think coming down the long hill on 27 coming in to Whitman.

Now we come to the infamous Volkswagen Bus. I didn’t find a receipt for it, but I did find a LOT of receipts for maintenance and repairs at Myron Oberg’s! It’s the car I learned to drive a stick shift in, as well as the one I burned up one day coming back from seeing the Tall Ships in Boston Harbor on a hot day in July of 1976. The fan belt broke (I knew I heard a thump!) and when smoke started billowing up to the front of the bus, I pulled over. My mother had drilled into my head not to let it run out of oil, so I tried to check it and burned my fingers pretty good on the metal dipstick. Well, that was the end of the VW Bus, and my brothers have hated me ever since because our mother would never let them drive her cars because of what I had done. Sorry, guys...

 

Still a Jeep guy. 1980s.

He also had a nice Audi, but I haven’t found a picture of it. I do have lots of memories of driving up to “Cow” Hampshire to visit with his friend Marshall Hatch on the weekends. Uncle Kevin relates: “the story goes about the Audi, with which he had numerous problems, was purchased at Reitzel Audi in Norwell.  One day he taped a large banner on the side of the car in front of the agency which read, "you don't have to go to a fruit store to buy a lemon, I bought one here."  

Pretty sure he bought this just to be able to take Wolfgang, a 98-pound German Shepherd, around with him—when he wasn’t walking Wolfgang by the Bridgewater State College president’s house so Wolfgang could leave a “package.” You just had to know Ed...

He also had this little two-seater Nissan Pulsar that our boys were entranced with, parked here at my Gramie’s on Robert Ave.

His last vehicle. Before the end, he had plastered it with signs and bumper stickers, some of which I had to cover up before I drove it to the Temple so I could, with a clear conscience, park in the lot. Somewhere I have a photo of that, but this is a family blog...

P.S. I spent DAYS trying to set this post up in an orderly way with the photos and the captions, and Blooger has just done fruit basket upset with them. So this is my rant: I hate working with Blogger and pictures. But none of my kids would ever read a lot of text without photos. So there.