Sept. 20th, 1915: A Postcard from Grandpa Olmstead

I think I've seen it all in my mother's collection of diaries when out pops this 100-year-old postcard.  It was sent to my grandparents, the Merediths, by James' grandfather, William Henry Olmstead, age 92.  William was living with relatives, the Conners, in Saranac MI.  Olmstead? It was James' mother's maiden name.

         RR No. 2
         Saranac, Mich.
         Sept. 20, 1915

Dear James & Lola,
     Please accept this card as a token of our remembrance
of you and of your birthdays - which occur, we think, James' 35th on Sept. 23rd and Lola's on Oct. 1st.

    We hope they will prove joyous change to you both, such 
                                                          that you will live to enjoy many holiday returns and may the  
                                                          Dear Lord's blessing attend you all the way.
                                                                 Your aunt, Mary G. Conner
                                                                  Your Grandfather, Wm. H. Olmstead

My grandmother, Carlotta Lola Lucretia Weekes Meredith, was called "Lola" and "Lottie."  She was to turn
29 on Oct. 1, 1915, but perhaps William Olmstead was unsure of her age.  It was difficult to read the faded brown ink and tiny, fine writing, especially  in the second paragraph when William was running out of room. William lived to be 93, dying on June 1, 1916.  James' father, Nathaniel, was a Civil War veteran, and had died in 1907 at 63.  Oddly enough, that was the age at which James himself would pass away in 1944.

At this time, the Merediths lived at 3855 Park Avenue in Chicago, according to the postcard.  Their two children, Ruth Viola and Jimmie, were 9 and 4.  This postcard was not in Pieces of a Life.

Ruth Kellogg Tells of Daughter's Hospital Stay in N.Y.C.

Daughter Diane (me) is pictured here at 26 (1962) at a windy Chicago beach near Lake Michigan, close to her Astor Street apartment.

In 1964 Ruth and John, Diane's parents, still lived in Oak Park.  After a trip to Florida, they drove back to Illinois on Friday, Feb. 21.  On Feb. 22 Ruth wrote in her diary: "Diane phoned Ken this morning from N.Y. hospital where she's been since Thursday with kidney infection which is being treated with shots every 6 hours.  Tests are being run for cause.  Ken said she sounded chipper."

One day in mid-February, I didn't feel very good with several symptoms - such as back pain.  The only doctor we knew of was one some friends had just met at a cocktail party, so that's who I saw.  He examined me, but missed the kidney infection diagnosis, and sent me home.  In a couple of days, I was back - but this time with a high fever.  The doctor put me right into Beth Israel Hospital in lower Manhattan, where I laid around for about a week. That's where I was when I called my brother, Ken

What were we doing in New York City?  Dan Pellettiere was hired by N.W. Ayer, venerable old ad agency in Philadelphia, in Dec., 1962.  We got married in February, 1963.  At that time I had been working for Continental National Insurance Group in downtown Chicago for about 3 years, training employees in letter and report writing mostly, but also writing and editing materials and manuals.  When I left, I finished a project for them, working out of our apartment in Philly.

We expected to be there for a year, but were transferred to NYC in late April.  I was hired by another insurance company on Maiden Lane at the south end of Manhattan, this time working as a technical writer in the electronic data processing area.  The computer was the size of a room.   

"Help Me!"

One day Lottie Meredith phoned Ruth, crying hysterically, "Ruth!  Ruth!  Help me - my finger is caught in the sewing machine."
Trying to be calm, Ruth said, "What do you mean 'caught'?"
"The needle came down right into my fingernail.  It's bleeding and it hurts so much!"
"Can't you just release the needle - turn the wheel on the machine so it comes out?"
Still crying, Lottie said, "No, I can't.  I'm afraid I will just make it worse."

I was home so Mom (Ruth) and I ran to the garage, backed her Packard sedan into the alley and drove the two miles to the my grandmother's two-flat on Iowa Street in Chicago.  We had lived there until 1941 when we moved to 1210 N. Euclid in Oak Park.

Ruth was able to turn the wheel on the side of the sewing machine to pull the needle upward out of Lottie's bloody finger. Then she had me put ice in a bowl so that Lottie could put her finger in it.  This was 1949, so Grandpa Meredith (James) had passed away.  Her son, Jimmie, still lived with Lottie, though he was out when this happened.

Was this just a random accident?  Not exactly.  In the Nov. 5, 2013 post I mentioned that Lottie was very poorly coordinated because, as a lefty, her teachers tried to force her to use her right hand.  They tied her left hand behind her back.  It didn't work.  She still used her left hand to write, but was forever after awkward in doing tasks around the house or yard.  It seems barbaric, but tying up the right hand was an accepted practice in the late 1800s when she was a child.

Oddly enough, my father, John, was the first person to notice that our middle daughter, Cindy Pellettiere, was left handed.  When he and Ruth were visiting from Florida, he started to hand food or toys to little Cindy's right hand - until we realized it!  That was in 1968 when she was about a year old.

The picture is not in Pieces of a Life.  Taken in June, 1949, it shows my brother, Ken Kellogg (age 17), dressed for the Senior Prom at Oak Park High, with his mother, Ruth (age 42), and grandmother, Lottie Meredith (62).  They're in the Kellogg living room, framed against swirled plaster walls that were a pale aqua.  Past Ken you can see the arched entry to the dining room and the Danish Modern furniture, quite stylish at that time.

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.