One of the prompts for this particular week on the official facebook page for this project asks if there is an occupation that seems to recur in one’s family tree. Ironically, there is and it’s one that I myself am pursuing too: theologian/clergy.
On my maternal line (through her father), my 7thgreat grandfather is Alexander Underwood (1688-1767), a Quaker minister who settled in Pennsylvania. I’ve actually been in the Meeting House that he helped to build in Warrington Township. He was apparently very prominent in his community and travelled frequently to help build up Quaker communities in the colonies. (Warrington Meeting House — my photo).
I’m descended through his daughter Ann Underwood, who married Stephen Ailes. Their son Stephen Ailes (1750-1828) and his wife Elizabeth Swayne (1751-1820) had a son Stephen Ailes (1771-1816) – my family has never been overly creative with naming their children lol. It’s a…
I don’t know if this is a favorite photo per se, but it was certainly one that I was overjoyed to acquire.
This is my great grandmother (maternal father’s side) Edna Baldwin (with her then husband and my great grandfather Perry Barnes Hanna). She haunted my family for years (metaphorically speaking lol). There is tragedy and loss and bitterness and so much there in her life on which I wish I had clarity; she was really the lynch pin that set the tone for not just her children but theirs as well and by extension my generation too. Intergenerational pain and trauma but also courage and perseverance and the ability to survive with all the viciousness that sometimes entails. While parts of her story are bleak, I respect her and I honor her as one of my disir (protective female ancestors).
So, I joined this genealogy project consisting of year long, weekly prompts about my ancestors and it seems pretty cool and so today I receive the first prompt: Fresh Start and I thought: what does that mean?
I know that most people doing this are probably not polytheists and are probably going to choose to write about something new they discovered about a particular ancestor, or something relevant like that and I thought about doing the same thing, except the current state of my ancestor shrine really has me moving in a different direction. Namely, it’s a mess. One of my goals this year is to get back to where I was two years ago with my ancestor work, when my shrine was like a living extension of my heart, a vital, vibrant seat of communion between me and my dead. I’m not sure where things went awry (actually I…
While I was hunting for specific tombstones, MAG took this photo of the church. There is another field of stones to the left, which you cannot see in this picture, and a few — just a handful–behind the church too.
Today I started a very mini-pilgrimage. Mostly I’m down in MD to visit family, but on the way, I very deliberately sought out a cemetery where I know a number of my relatives are buried. (I intend to visit another from a different part of my lineage on the way home. Both are in the same county in PA). It was…overwhelming. I walked into the cemetery and realized immediately that I am related, quite directly too, to at least 95% of the people there. I’ve never been in a cemetery where I had more than one or two relatives, certainly not one that has six plus generations of my maternal line! It was dizzying and I quickly became disoriented. I don’t think I can quite describe the sensation of walking amongst that many of my dead, or of sinking down before my third great grandparents’ stones and communing with them. It was powerful to say the least.
Since I have difficulty driving long distances because of my back and neck injuries, my friend MAG drove me down and is accompanying me on the ancestor pieces of this journey. She is a good travel buddy and very good at playing handler for me if need be—and today I needed it. We left NY at five am and made it into York County, PA by ten thirty but it took us almost another hour to find the cemetery. We knew it was off rte 425 but even so, it was not the easiest thing to find. When we did, it hit me like a punch in the solar plexus, literally knocking the wind right out of me. I saw it as we crested a hill and I knew “that one ‘s mine.”
My primary purpose was to visit the grave of my first cousin twice removed (I think I go that right! An error in my genealogy had me thinking he was my second great uncle for awhile.) Wesley Heffner who died on June 5 from wounds sustained in WWI.
Possibly the only existing photo of him. (from “York County in the World War” by Hill, et al.
Wesley was part of Co. B 26th Infantry which was part of the first American forces to arrive in France as part of Pershing’s Expeditionary Force. They were immediately deployed to the front. According to the wiki entry on this regiment, they earned more campaign streamers than any other regiment but at a terrible cost, losing nearly half their forces. (1) They did, however, help turn the tide of the war. “…Soldiers of that regiment were quintessential doughboys: part of the first American division to arrive in France, the 26th Infantry was first to enter combat, first to sustain a casualty, first to take the offensive, and first to enter Germany after the Armistice.” (2) Wesley didn’t make it to the Armistice. He died before the battle of Soissons. I’m still trying to track down where his company would have been in May-June 1918 but I haven’t had much luck. Near as I can tell, probably Cantigny, maybe Amiens, but I’m not sure. I’ve a bit of research ahead of me.
Anyway, I went to visit his grave and I knew I had a couple more ancestors buried there but I had no idea, just…no idea exactly how many. Usually when I go into a graveyard, after having made some preliminary offerings, I can find who I’m looking for almost immediately. That was not the case here. There were just too many and I was completely overwhelmed. I finally asked Private Heffner ‘I’m here to honor you, I need some help finding you!” and heard clear as day “look to your right.” And there he was. Later, he helped me find his grandparents (I finally thought to ask him again after I nearly passed out from the heat after a very long time tramping through in the graveyard. I tried to douse and it all but exploded in my hands because there were just so many of my ancestors there. Again, when I asked, he immediately pointed them out).
I have a certain protocol that I follow when I come into a cemetery to do this type of work. First I cover my head and I greet the cemetery spirit itself. I make offerings to the cemetery and then general offerings to those buried there, explaining my purpose. I ask the help of the cemetery itself and my own ancestors in locating them. Usually it’s not a problem but this was so intense. I don’t have words to explain. If there is anywhere in the United States that is my ancestral land, it’s Chanceford Township. To this day, Heffners, Schoffs, Runkles et al people the place. This cemetery was filled with my people, my ancestors, generation after generation after generation and they recognized me, and so did the land itself. It’s the only time in the US that I’ve had that experience (it has happened occasionally at certain places in Europe). There was a depth of connection there that I’d never experienced before. Usually when I go into a cemetery in MD or PA I might have one or two ancestors there, maybe half a dozen but not dozens, not multiple generations (as in seven, eight, nine and more generations), not that many directly linked, my direct antecedants. It was so incredibly dizzying.
So after staggering around the cemetery pouring out offerings for about a half hour, I finally realized I needed to focus. I made a general offering to all of my ancestors there and explained first I wanted to find Wesley, and then having asked his help I did that. I spent a good half hour making offerings. The photo of the young man above is very likely the only extant picture of him. Soldiers were (and I believe still are) photographed when they enlist, just in case they die in service, which he did.
I made offerings at his stone, having divined last night about their appropriateness. (For those new to reading my blog, reverencing the dead is a major tenet of my religion. We are expected to tend our ancestors’ graves, visit them, make offerings, know our genealogy, maintain a household ancestor shrine, etc. We use divination to ensure that our offerings and actions are correct and welcome).
I also poured out offerings of fresh water, both to Wesley and to as many of the dead as I could. Then of course, I poured out to everyone as a group.
Then I double checked my list (I had a list of ancestors that I knew were buried in that cemetery. It was…to say the least…incomplete! While I was hunting for Wesley, a woman came and made a grave rubbing of one of the stones for a client (she was a genealogist), and spoke with my friend MAG. She gave MAG a website where another genealogist had taken photographs of every stone in that cemetery. It was very helpful. MAG passed it onto me and I was able to see what a stone looked like, which narrowed down the process of finding it (no small thing given that my head was just spinning the whole time I was there. Writing this now, hours and hours later, I feel as though I was hit by a mack truck and I’m not sure if it’s from the long drive or the time with my dead!)(3)
I cried when I found the graves of my third great grandparents Jesse Runkle and Elizabeth Runkle (nee Oberlander). Their stones are side by side and as with Wesley I was able to sit for a long time in front of them talking, praying, and making offerings. I’ve never quite experienced anything like sitting there on that ground with them and I wish I could have stayed for a much longer time. There simply wasn’t enough time and I hope to soon return, perhaps in a few months, and spend a significant amount of time in a mini utiseta.(4)
Jesse and Elizabeth Runkle, my third great grandparents.
Here is Jesse’s stone by itself:
Here is a photo (poor quality for which I apologize!) of him and Elizabeth as adult seniors (copied from the Runkle Genealogy book by J .Grove. She was kind enough to send me a photocopy of the images as we are both descended from Jesse. I do not know who originally took these portraits as both of my third great grandparents died well before I was born!):
And here is her stone by itself:
After a stumbling, staggering struggle (and nearly passing out from the heat, which I ignored far too long in a dogged desire to find their stone), I managed to find with Wesley’s help, the stones of my second great grandparents William Henry Heffner and Catherine Heffner (nee Runkle).
Sadly, the writing is not all that legible. It’s William H.(henry) Heffner, Died Oct. 13, 1905, aged 69 years, 5 months, 11 days and Catharine Heffner, Died Feb. 10, 1920, aged 73, 3 (I think) days.
Wesley is their grandson. His parents, Amos and Della Heffner were there too.
I actually have conflicting information about the death date of Della and one cannot always trust tombstones. I need to double check that date.
It was odd, I kept wondering why everyone wasn’t grouped together ‘why aren’t you buried next to relatives?” except they are. The entire cemetery is related. I’m still boggled by it. I realize why people fight to the death to protect their ancestral burial grounds. I always understood it mentally but now I get it on a gut level. I understand to the marrow of my being. These are my people and this land that holds their bones is sacred.
It is late now and I am exhausted and will be spending the next two days with (living) relatives. I have more to tell and more photos but for now I’ll conclude with this image. Those rolling fields and many more like them once sustained my ancestors. It’s a good place to live and a very good place to rest and when the land speaks carrying the bones of one’s dead, it’s very hard not to listen.
I’m lucky too. I kept finding Civil War soldiers amongst my direct antecedents and MAG helpfully pointed out that I must have had soldiers who fought at Gettysburg – it isn’t that far from here and all of my folks were in PA regiments. It was, for awhile 50/50 as to whether we’d be making a side trip to the battlefield. It’s still a possibility.
Later, after the cemetery visit, I met a cousin (twice over, though we haven’t calculated the exact relationship, how many times removed, etc.) who has helped me in the past with my genealogy. Ms. J. as I’ll call her here told me that Elizabeth was a remarkable woman. She had sixteen children and all of them survived to adulthood, something almost unheard of in her time. These women were tough. It wasn’t uncommon to have ten, thirteen, sixteen, seventeen, and more children at home and sans painkiller or modern medicine. They had grit.
I’m a little stunned as I write this. I spent the day visiting relatives and ended up, as per a promise I made to my ancestors in November, hunting down the cemetery where my great-great-grandfather is buried. After that, things got beautifully weird.
To start with, I had no idea exactly where this cemetery was. I knew it was in Peach Bottom, PA but that’s it. I couldn’t find an address for it, not even on google. I figured it seems to be on or near Rte. 222 so let’s just drive that and if we have to, we can ask someone at a gas station or something. We’d no sooner crossed the PA border than we came upon an old, small cemetery. I had no idea if this was the right one and it seemed rather too close to the MD/PA border to be so but I had a feeling so I told my friend who was driving to stop and I got out.
Almost immediately I found my great great grandfather’s stone.
His name is Stephen J. Hanna and he is the father of Perry Barnes Hanna who is the father of Roland Isaac Hanna who is my grandfather (on my mother’s side). When I visited MD on Thanksgiving, I had found his wife’s grave (Elizabeth Johnson) at West Nottingham cemetery and I’d wondered at the time where he was. It seems he died first and was buried in Rock Spring Cemetery in PA, with a lot of Hannas. A LOT of them. She died twenty years later and from what I can tell, was buried near her children who were part of the local parish.
In addition, and purely by chance, dumb luck, and my ancestors being sneaky, I also found the graves of my great-great-great grandparents, James Andrew Hanna (1800-1874) and Esther Ailes Hanna (1798-1887).
Esther Ailes Hanna
James Hanna
I poured out water to them and to all the Hannas buried there and thanked them for being my ancestors, for guiding me to the grave, and I showed respect by bowing to the ground.
I didn’t think anything more about it. We had my aunt in the car and she was hungry and so were my travel buddies so we went to lunch. When I got home I started researching a bit, curious as to whether or not I could find a few more graves in the area and I didn’t, but I did get a major gift from my dead. I managed to trace a couple of the lines back to the 1600s , lines I’d been trying to research for months and months with no luck.
I’m not actually able to input a genealogy chart here (I wish I could, it would be far easier) so let me break it down.
I’ll start with Perry Barnes Hanna (21 April 1876-17 April 1949), my great grandfather. He is buried at West Nottingham Cemetery in Colora, MD along with his mother Elizabeth Johnson (1836-1909). His father Stephen J. Hanna (1832-1897) is buried in Rock Springs Baptist Cemetery in Peach Bottom, PA.
Stephen J. Hanna’s parents, James Andrew Hanna, Esq. (1800-1874) and Esther Ailes (1798-1887) are also buried in Rock Springs Cemetery though there is some question as to whether or not they were Baptist or Quaker.
I was able today to trace James Andrew’s parents: John Hanna (1773-1857) and Martha Jenkins (1781-1857). They married in 1799. I don’t know where exactly they’re buried yet. (I didn’t see their graves in Rock Springs but I may go back tomorrow to check again). John Hanna’s father was James Hanna (1725–10 December 1798) and Elizabeth Glenn (1731-1808ish) They married on 15 July 1748. I guess John was born late in life to his father. Interesting fact about James Hanna: he served as a private in Captain John Graham’s company, 1st battalion militia in the Revolutionary War and was born in Ulster county, Ireland. That’s as far back as I’ve gone on that side of the Hanna line. (Ironically, I may be eligible through him for the DAR!) Let’s continue with Esther Ailes’ line. This is information I’ve been dying to find out and today it just fell into my lap.
First, let’s look at her paternal line. Her father was Stephen Ailes (1771-1816) and her mother Sarah Byland (1773-1830). Let’s follow her father’s line.
Stephen Ailes’ parents were Stephen Michael Ailes (5 March 1750–21 Sept. 1828) and Elizabeth Swayne (1751- January 26, 1820). Stephen Michael’s parents were Stephen Ailes (1717-1754) and Ann Underwood (1718-1767). I’m a little saddened by those dates. Apparently Stephen Michael was only four when his father died and a teenager when his mother died. That’s as far as I can go with his paternal line. Stephen Ailes’ (1771-1816) mother was Elizabeth Swayne. Let’s trace her line:
Her father was Edward Swayne (20 November 1702- 24 April 1776). He was born in Binfield, Berkshire, UK. Given his date of death, I’m wondering if he fought in the Revolutionary war and on what side (more research will be necessary). He died in Pa. Her mother was Sarah Fincher (1703- 1 November 1804). It looks like she was born in London Grove, Pa. They married April 25, 1727 in New Garden, Chester County, PA. HER parents were John Fincher (1679-1747) and Martha Taylor (3 January 1680-1713). Edward Swayne’s parents were Francis Swayne (19 February 1665 – 30 November 1721). He was born in Binfield, Berkshire, UK. He married Elizabeth Melton (1667-1727), also born in the UK. They both died in East Marlborough, Chester County, PA so I think they were the first in this line to immigrate to the US (though it was the colonies, not the US then).
Elizabeth Swayne’s mother Sarah Fincher was born to John Fincher (born 28 January 1678 in Wolverly, Wyre Forest district Worcestershire in the UK, died 24 November 1747 in PA) and Martha Taylor. They married 1699. John’s parents were Francis Fincher (nicknamed “the Immigrant”, or “the Quaker”—so at least we know he was Quaker!) ( 2 October 1626- 1 June 1684) and Mary Achelly (1636 – 1699). They married on 3 April 1678. (He was first married to Elizabeth Mary Sibthorpe, but she died in 1676 ). Right now, that’s as far as I can take the Swayne line. John Fincher may have arrived, as per Quaker meeting notes, in the colonies on 14 March 1683. His father Francis died by drowning in Philadelphia and was a glover.
Finally, let’s return to Sarah Byland, Esther’s mother. She is the daughter of John Byland and Susannah Ailes. That’s all I have so far, but it’s so very much more than I had this morning! It’s like I poured out a couple of bottles of water on their graves to refresh and honor my dead and BAM! They opened up the line a little bit more for me.
So I am thrilled though I have a ton more research to do to verify all of this fully. This is not the first time I’ve visited graves, made offerings and had information fall out of the blue in my lap though. Honoring the ancestors….it works. 🙂
So I spent my Thanksgiving visiting the graves of my ancestors. I came down to Maryland to see my brother and his family for the holiday and the morning before we all got together, I went around to local cemeteries making offerings for my dead. I’ve been trying to untangle a rather snarled family tree, and my recent focus has been my mother’s paternal line. I made real breakthroughs on this visit.
Firstly, I visited my aunt who told me quite a bit about my grandfather. Many of those stories are personal so I won’t recount them here, but it answered a lot of questions. Then there were the cemetery visits.
I started the morning yesterday by first going to Harmony Chapel Cemetery in Cecil County, MD where I made offerings to my maternal grandmother Linnie Hanna, her parents Lucinda Heffner and Hugh Shoff, and her brother Howard Shoff. (My photos did not turn out well of their stones, so I will be visiting them again later today and will add photos then. Once I poured good, clean water over their stones in offering to their spirits, it obscured the inscriptions. I also laid out flowers and prayed).
Then, I went to Brookview Cemetery in Rising Sun, MD (and boy was it fun finding this cemetery! It’s quite well hidden, which of course makes it peaceful and serene. It’s abutted by a large field and set well off the road, shielded by a long, wooded lane). My grandfather Roland Isaac Hanna is buried here. Last year, I realized that he didn’t have a headstone (he was not the best father, and he carried many, many scars from his own childhood.) so I paid to have a simple one with his name and dates of birth and death erected. I got to the cemetery and realized I had no idea where it was located save tehat it was in the north east section. So, I asked him to guide me to the stone and…walked right to it.
After visiting for a time with Roland (and also making offerings to various random veterans in the cemetery – I’m easily distracted in cemeteries) I and my friend A. (who was kind enough to accompany me and help haul offerings and drive) went on to Colora, MD, to West Nottingham Cemetery. I’d always been fascinated by this cemetery as a child but had never, ever visited. I don’t think my parents realized that my mother’s father’s father, his mother, and two of his brothers were buried there.
Again, I had no idea where they were and the cemetery is large. I talked to them, and poured out an offering to the other spirits of the place, and the cemetery itself asking for help and again, walked right to my great grandfather’s stone (the look on A.’s face was priceless when I did so). Again, offerings were made. As I talked to him, speaking about my desire to untangle this family line and deal with the pain and hurt that had festered there for so long, a pale spider kept running along the top of the stone. In some cultures, spiders are psychopomps, and carry messages too and from the dead. I took it as a good omen.
Then I had to set myself the task of finding his mother. Again, I only knew that she was there so I again asked for help. I kept getting distracted by interesting stones and people but eventually I heard very clearly ‘go over to the building’. I thought perhaps someone was there who could help so I did. Just as I was about to walk out of the cemetery proper and to the main building, something made me look down and to my left and there was my great great grandmother’s grave. (Her husband is buried in PA, in a family plot. He died earlier than she and it seems her children wanted her buried near where they lived so today I’m going on the quest for his grave).
Right next to her are the graves of two of her sons: John T. and Basil Randolph Hanna.
I made the requisite offerings, thanking them profusely. Later that night I was doing some research and managed to extend that line back several more generations.
Me
Maryann Dabravalskas (nee Hanna) (1947-2012) (and John Paul Dabravalskas 1917- 2005)
Following Maryann’s line:
Linnie Hanna (nee Shoff) (1909 – 1987) and Roland I. Hanna (1903-1991)
Following Roland’s line:
Edna Baldwin (1880-1944) and Perry Barnes Hanna (1876-1949)
Following Perry:
Elizabeth Johnson (1836-1909) and Stephen John Hanna (1832-1897)
Following Stephen:
His mother is Esther Ailes (1798-1887) and father James Andrew Hanna (1800-1874).
Esther’s parents are Stephen Ailes (1771-1816) and Sarah Byland (1773-1830).
Stephen’s parents are Stephen Michael Ailes and Elizabeth Swayne
Back to James Andrew Hanna, his mother is Martha Jenkins (1781-1857) and his father is John Hanna (1773-1857) and…that’s as far as I can take this line.
(if anyone reading this has any information on any of these ancestors or family lines, please please contact me here!)
So all told, it was a very productive visit. I need to come down again, both to research in Baltimore (Edna Baldwin lived and worked there and she is a cipher, a complete mystery in my line) and to go to York, PA where generations of my mother’s maternal line settled. I have many more graves to visit!
(Warrington Meeting House — my photo).
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