Seek and - Sometimes - Ye Shall Find

Finding the pieces of a life can be daunting.  Dead ends abound.  And then, with luck, something drops in your lap.

In Pieces of a Life, I relied on my mother's early diaries mainly.  One day this week I was going through a large box of diaries from later in her life, which should have been labeled "paydirt".  It turned out to be a treasure trove.

Hidden at the bottom of the box were two autograph books.  Both were from 1922 when Ruth Meredith graduated from Emmet grade school in Chicago.  On the first page was written her name and her address, 644 Leamington Ave.  I'd never had that address before!  The Merediths lived there before they moved to Iowa Street.  Autograph books were used in 8th grade so that friends, classmates could leave a name with a poem, silly limerick or just their good wishes before moving on to a huge high school, Austin High.  For instance, "By the river, By the sea, By the hillside, Think of me.  Your schoolmate, Sinah Kitzing" is one example.

Then two pictures fell out of the diaries.  The one you see is blonde Ruth at age 2 with a toy bear.  It is so thrilling to be able to see where they lived back in 1908.  Yet still another new-to-me address - "Fulton St. house" is written on the back of the picture in Lottie Meredith's distinctive lefty handwriting. Fulton Street is east of Iowa Street, near Leamington.

The figure at the top of the stairs could be Ruth's father, Jim Meredith.  What about the other picture that fell in my lap?  I'll use that one in the next blog.

A Tale of Three Uncles - # Three

 The picture on the left is Guy Ashford Wood Jr. in April, 1945 (age 28) on a 30-day leave from the Royal Canadian Air Force.  He was a Flight Lieutenant.  He's pictured in the backyard of his parents, Esther and Guy Wood, in Ann Arbor, MI.  He tried to join the U.S. Army Air Corps (later became the Air Force) early in 1941, months before the U.S. engaged in World War II.  However, Guy was color-blind, so was not considered eligible for service.

When he crossed the Canadian border to try again, Guy was welcomed with open arms by the RCAF.  Canada, as part of the British Empire, had been at war for two years by then.  Guy was a fighter pilot, mainly in North Africa, and was never shot down.

When on leave in Capetown, South Africa, he met his future wife, Edna Smith, who worked at the hospital.  At the time the family was told that Guy was hospitalized because he was hit by a car while riding a bike.  It was only months ago that my cousin, also named Guy Wood, told me that his father had been in a bar fight!  Guy must have changed the bar fight to a bike because some of the family, my father among them, did not drink, nor did they believe anyone else should do so.

The picture on the right was taken at the Wood's home in Ann Arbor in 1938.  My father, John Kellogg (age 39), and his step-brother, Guy Wood (age 21),  are shown with Esther Webb Kellogg Wood in the back-ground.  Each man looks like his own father, so appear very different from each other. Uncle Guy was actually my step-uncle.

Though the people in this post are mentioned in Pieces of a Life, these pictures and this story are new.

A Tale of Three Uncles - #Two

Here's the story of the second uncle, who's familiar to those who've read Pieces of a Life.  He's Jimmie Meredith, shown watering the grass and flowers in the back yard of the Iowa Street two-flat in Chicago.  The Peterson's garage is behind him and the gate leading to the alley is at the left edge of the picture.  He's near the Meredith garage, which is out of camera view.

Swept up in the tidal wave of patriotism early in 1942, Uncle Jimmie enlisted in the U.S. Navy to fight in World War II.  He had had a history of mental illness for 14 years, but perhaps he had been doing better.  Ruth is usually silent about Jimmie's problems in her diaries, so we can only guess.

Within a few months, Jimmie was back.  He had had a nervous breakdown and was given a medical discharge.  There were pictures of Jimmie in uniform, but they must have been discarded.  I have a memory of touching the white cap and the deep blue bell-bottomed uniform itself long ago, stored in his closet.

The Austin neighborhood on the far west side of Chicago was close-knit.  I imagine that everyone who had lived near 5458 W. Iowa Street a long time, as had the Merediths, would have known about Jimmie's troubles.  Perhaps that would have made it easier to be able-bodied and about 30 years old in time of war.

A Tale of Three Uncles - #One

Did anyone in your family serve in World War I or World War II?  My family probably started out with King Philip's War (1675-76)  and worked their way through the other wars, century by century. If you live right where the war is happening, you're involved.

The man with the "X" in the picture is Lewis Henry Weekes, Lottie Weekes Meredith's brother, born in 1888 in Chicago.  He is my great-uncle.  I don't know who other two men were. Lewis' brothers had both died in the 1890s as an infant and child. The only other family I know of is his sister, Lottie (Carlotta), and their father, William  The picture was most likely taken after Lewis came home from serving in the Army in World War I.  Somewhere I have a frail silk handkerchief from France that he gave to Lottie.

Needless to say, World War I was fought in Europe, starting in 1914.  There was mixed feeling in the United States about becoming involved in something so far away, but in 1917 America joined the war effort.  It was a far cry from King Philip's War in New England.  Once the decision was made, though, there was mounting patriotism and men like Lewis went to war.

Lewis was exposed to mustard gas when fighting in France.  Though he survived, he was never quite the same, according to Lottie.  Later on he lost his balance when riding on a wagon, fell and was trampled to death by the horses.

The Cold Milk Caper

In Pieces of a Life John Kellogg's autobiography sketches various jobs he took while working his way through the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor in the early 1920s.  When he was waiting tables at the Keeler Klub one hot day, he swigged a cold glass of milk right before the guests started to come in.  Eating before they did was against the rules.  As he heard someone approaching, he poured water into the milk pitcher to make it look full.

Sure enough, the guest was at one of John's tables.  "...the first thing he did was pour himself a glass of milk.  All he got was the water I had poured in and lacked the time to stir in. He drank and then said, 'They sure loaded this heavy today.' 

Silently, I agreed.  Student waiters, like the paying students, could eat anything they wanted and there were few restrictions.  But they were supposed to eat after the guests.  And they had to have all of the dishes off of their tables before they ate.  Never again did I break those two cardinal rules."

"I heard this story many times as I grew up, usually punctuated by my father's laughing so hard that the tears streamed down his face.  He'd remove his glasses to wipe his eyes, his cheeks - and sometimes start to guffaw all over again.  He was puzzling in some ways - so work-focused, but loving a belly-laugh that came from something close to slapstick comedy."

The photo of John is probably his graduation picture, taken in 1924.