Photo of the Day: Father and Daughter

I have no idea where this photo was taken, but it seems as if my grandmother, Sally Lou, and her father, Adolph Voegtly, were spending some quality time together. Were they at a summer resort? Or a state or local fair? I can imagine them walking around eating their ice cream when they see a photo booth and impulsively decide to have their picture taken, to remember the moment. Was it Sally's idea? Maybe. Adolph almost looks surprised to find himself in this situation, delicately holding his ice cream cone. And Sally's hand, gently resting on her father's leg while continuing to lick her treat. Was it just the two of them out that day? Was my great-grandmother Nannie at home with her baby John? It would be fun to travel back in time and find out, wouldn't it?

Back to School

School started in my town this week. I watched my neighbor's kid tugging at her new clothes, fixing her hair, and proudly displaying her very cool high tops while waiting for her parents to drive her to school on the first day. It makes me very nostalgic. In fact, living in New England with the deafening sound of toads, crickets, and katydids all day and night, it's more than a gentle reminder of those first days of school. Check out my brother Bob's plaid jacket! And Bill's red shirt – buttoned all the way to the top. And yes, I can still remember that pink dress with matching printed blouse. Ah, what fashion plates we were back then.

These three photos were together in an envelope, so they may have been taken the same year. I believe Bill and I were attending Hollow Tree while Bob was finishing up sixth grade at Baker School (before it was closed and razed to accommodate a park – due to the end of the baby boomers entering school). It must have been hard for my mother to have us in two different schools. She must have attended multiple after-school activities, volunteered at both school libraries, and contributed to two different PTA groups!

Kindergarten class: I'm the only girl sitting on the floor with the boys.

On Facebook, I've joined a couple school groups. Since my family lived in both Connecticut and Ohio during our K-12 years, I actually attended three elementary schools, two junior highs, and one high school. It's odd reading some of the posts people write now on FB, some thirty to forty years later, talking about certain events like it was yesterday. Many people can still rattle off all their teachers' names. I can hardly remember one or two. (Although having old photos with the names scrawled on them helps!) Below are my class photos from Tremont Elementary in Upper Arlington, Ohio. I can see why my parents were somewhat worried I'd be six feet tall by the time I stopped growing (which didn't happen). I was the tallest girl in my class all three years – sometimes even the tallest person.

I suppose everyone has these old classroom photos if you're a baby boomer. Do schools still take these group photos or are they all individual portraits? What do you have in your family archives?

Life in Botswana: Gaborone Recreation

Another excerpt from my parent's memoirs, Life in Botswana.

The baobab is found in the savannas of African and India, mostly around the equator. It can grow up to 25 meters tall and can live for several thousand years. The baobab is leafless for nine months of the year.

Ed thought that after 30 years of rest, his golf game would have improved, but not so. After taking one lesson and learning what had to be done, he quit – at least until he retires and has lots of time for practice?

There is a reservoir nearby, called the Dam, about seven miles long and averaging 1-1/4 miles wide. It is the only water view for hundreds of miles in any direction and we value it highly. In the middle of it is an island with a high point, and on top of this sits a pretty clubhouse owned by the Gaborone Yacht Club. We get there by a ferry which we are going to call the African Queen after its current overhaul. The Club has 150 members, most with families, of which about 30 are sailors. Most members are British, with a number of South Africans and former Rhodesians, and a handful of Europeans and Americans. Boatwise, there are 15 Lasers, five catamarans, six Mirros, a 505, two Finns, one FD, four Optimists (with an active junior sailing program), an Enterprise, three Hunter 19 keel boats, one Mistral (23 ft.) keel boat and some miscellaneous craft. There are also about 15 board sailors and 10 canoeists. Motors are not allowed on the Dam, except for emergency boats. Races are held every Sunday at 10 a.m. and we have 4-5 five-race regattas each year, sponsored by local concerns, including the Kalahari Brewery.

The Clubhouse has an active bar and kitchen, and a veranda with tables and chairs with a beautiful panoramic view looking five miles down the Dam. There are no buildings on the Dam, in fact there are antelope and leopard on the far shore, where the Club intends to set up another facility next year. A 12-foot crocodile was shot two months ago after having escaped from a nearby farm and exciting the whole community for four months. There is an active social program, including a joint venture Raft Race with the Rugby Club and a Guy Fawkes bonfire and fireworks party with the Capitol Players, an amateur theater group.

Ed became a committee member in July, 1990, and last February, when the vice commodore's employment contract was not renewed he was given this post. In July at the annual general meeting he was elected commodore, and so far is enjoying the post, with all of the challenges and problems that crop up.

We should mention the small game reserve which our town established about six months before we got here. it is less than a mile from our house, is about four square miles in size, and has a marvelous selection of animals. They stocked it with only a few of each species initially, but with the good rains in the last two years, the flora and animals have multiplied. There are about 20 ostrich, 30 wildebeest, 20 large kudu, many warthogs and vervet monkeys, 6-8 roan antelope, two eland (the largest antelope there is), some zebra, hartebeest and impala, tawny eagles, and two new white rhinos, for which a special paddock was built. With our little Suzuki Samurai, with the canvas top off and the windshield down on the hood, we often go on our own game drives!

Ed told an old friend in Johannesburg that he viewed our assignment in Botswana as an extended safari, and it truly is.

Photos of the Day – All About Me

According to my mother, the photographer who shot the series of "tanker" photos for the Texaco newsletter fell in love with me (who wouldn't?). He took a roll of film of me dressed in my mom's shoes and hat taking my doll for a walk. I'm guessing I did this activity after the photo shoot when I might have been craving a little attention!

   

Letter From Africa

So, how would you feel if your mother was living 7,654 miles away from you and she sends you a letter that starts like this:

Dear Sarah,
Again, it's been so long that I don't remember where we left off. The only thing good about that is that I haven't had time to get bored. We are off to Nxai Pan this weekend and I want to get this to you first in case we are eaten by lions.

A Dog Named Jeff

My grandfather, Carl, and his family, adopted a Boston Terrier back in 1915. They named him simply Jeff. Included in the documents my grandfather saved all these years was Jeff's pedigree chart and a couple of blurry and faded photos. I'm not necessarily a fan of the Boston Terrier (sorry to my friends who do have one), despite the fact I have lived in the Boston area for over twenty years. Jeff's AKC number is 210340, and the thought did cross my mind to look into his ancestry – since that is what I like to do on this blog – that is, until I read on the AKC website that all Boston Terriers came from the same two canines. Oh well. Makes you wonder about us humans, doesn't it?

According to the AKC, the Boston Terrier is nicknamed the "American gentleman among dogs" because of his characteristically gentle disposition. The breed is a true American breed, resulting from a cross between an English Bulldog and a white English Terrier.

Around 1870, William O'Brien of Boston sold an imported dog named "Judge" to Robert C. Hooper, also of Boston. This dog was commonly known as "Hooper's Judge" and became the ancestor of almost all true modern Boston Terriers.

He was mated to a white bitch owned by Edward Burnett named "Gyp" or "Kate"(one of Jeff's ancestors listed on the chart is a Gypsie J. – most certainly just a few generations removed from Gyp). From that mating descended a dog named "Wells' Eph" who was bred to a bitch named "Tobin's Kate". The Boston Terrier as a breed evolved from these dogs.

In 1889 about thirty fanciers in and around Boston organized what was known as the American Bull Terrier Club. They were showing dogs name as Round Heads or Bull Terriers. As time went on, these people met with considerable opposition from Bull Terrier and Bulldog fanciers who objected to the similarity of breed name, as they said this new breed was quite unlike their own.

As this breed was in its infancy, the AKC was not yet convinced that the breed would breed true to type. The new breed's supporters would not be dissuaded, however, and they established the Boston Terrier Club of America in 1891, changing the name of the breed from Round Heads or Bull Terriers, to Boston Terriers, taking the name of the city where the breed originated. The American Kennel Club admitted the breed to the Stud Book in 1893.

The AKC says the Boston Terrier is not a fighter, but is able to take care of himself, and is eminently suitable as a companion and house pet.

Life in Botswana: November 1990

A New Adventure - International in Scope

More excerpts from my parent's journal: Life in Bostwana.

Ed and I have had another one of our "adventures". On Saturday, Nov.17, we drove to the far side of Gaborone Dam in the Suzuki jeep to mark the new, additional site for the Yacht Club. Afterwards we decided to drive the length of the Dam, and drove about 12 km to a closed gate. When we started to turn around to return home, the motor stopped. Nothing we tried, including pushing, would start the jeep again.

We thought it would be closer to walk southward toward the Ramotswa road than to walk the 12+ km back to the gate and the road home. This was about 10:30 am. I was in sandals, with a plastic bag for a hat, and carrying a bag with tissues, glasses (not sun), my camera and a hardcover book. Ed had no sunblock but he did have a hat (we later shared) and he was carrying our video camera. We had no water, no wallets, but I did have P17 in my bag.

Gaborone Dam

We followed a car path which followed a fence until it petered out in a rocky, thicketed meadow by the Notwane River. We came to a fence which led down to the water, followed it and swung around the end of the fence into what turned out to be a cattle pasture. We followed along the river, about 15 ft from it, when suddenly we heard a loud splash at the river's edge. We concluded from the huge disturbance we saw in the water that it had to be a crocodile (we had heard reports of a second one). We headed inland a bit before continuing and maintained a respectful distance from the shoreline.

We came to the Notwane Dam and considered crossing the water via the dam spillway which would take us to a visible road. The only problem was that there was an eight foot drop from a cement wall to the curved, sloped spillway wall. We considered various ways of doing this but I was really worried that Ed would break a leg, fall on the rocks, or in the water with the croc, so we decided against that and instead to walk around the dam to the road.

Notwane Dam

Just as the route around the dam appeared blocked we came to another gate, open, and saw a new road, newly graded. We set out, certain that it would lead to the main road. At least we could see if there there were snakes or crocs on a dirt road. We walked along this road in the blazing, hot sun, for over three hours. Then we saw a windmill! How wonderful to see signs of human beings, the first we had seen since we started down the road.

We approached the borehole (dry) and saw two rondavels. After a loud "ko ko" brought no response from the first we went to the second. We asked for water, "metsi", and they brought us a clean, quart-size tin can nearly full. Tasted terrific! We asked the direction to Ramotswa and they pointed in the direction we had been going, so we continued on our way.

Both of us were only momentarily refreshed by the water and were individually wondering how much longer we could go on when Ed spotted another rondavel and a car! Ed asked the driver how far it was to Ramotswa. He said it was 20km, on the other side. "What do you mean, the other side? "In Botswana - this is Bophuthatswana - South Africa." Ed pointed to the ground "This is Bophuthatswana?" "Yes." We were astounded! We had walked 10 miles straight into South Africa without knowing it and without seeing any people.

The driver agreed to drive us to the border at Ramotswa for 20 rand. We offered him our 17 pula and off we went, 5km on the same dirt road and then 15 more to the BOP border post. Our driver beat a hasty retreat.

Well, the immigration people didn't know what to do with us. The BOP commander said it was "like you had come from the sky". After much conferring among themselves they decided to ask the South African police who were posted there to advise and train the BOP immigration and customs people. The SAP were nice, if somewhat sceptical at first, and sat us in a cool office, gave us cold Cokes and offered food, which we declined. 

One of the BOP officers went over to the Botswana border post and came back, saying that it was all closed up (it was about 4:30). The SAP kindly offered to drive us 50-60 km to the Kopfontein gate, opposite Tlokweng, giving us (and themselves) a cold beer as soon as we left the compound and another one half-way. They returned immediately for a goodbye celebration, as they were all returning home on Wednesday, after four months in post. The SAP thought we would have to get our passports in order to leave Bophutha-tswana, but the senior BOP officer said "No problem" and had his man escort us on foot across the border to Botswana immigration, who were incredulous when they heard the story from the officer in Setswana and our version in English. How happy we were to be home - almost.

By now everyone whose phone number we knew by heart was at the Marine Ball (we were supposed to be there also) except for our Canadian friends, the Loves. Thank goodness they were home! They drove to Tlokweng to vouch for us. Ed meanwhile wrote a summary of what had happened for the supervisor and we filled out forms. They still required our passports so Ed drove back with the Loves (I remained as hostage, reading my book), got them and returned. We finally reached home - and water, water, and food, at 8:30. We were very tired.

The jeep was recovered Tuesday evening. Nothing was touched, not even my shovel inside the open-backed vehicle. We learned later that the Botswana-South Africa border fence (which we went around) extends to the center of the Notwane River, about 500 meters below the Notwane Dam, and goes midstream to the Dam wall, through it and the Dam itself, continuing up the river. At the point where we rounded the fence, the point of South Africa is about 400 meters from the Lobatse highway.

Several morals which result from our (mis)adventure are:

1. Whenever you leave civilization (people, houses) always take water with you: the corollary is, if you do not have water, don't go to the bush, even in Gaborone.
2. Better go on a known route, especially when walking, than attempt to find another way home. Going back the same way we had driven was a much shorter (and safer) distance than we walked trying to take a short cut.
3. Always take a hat
4. Keep sunblock in the car.
5. Always take a reasonable amount of money when you drive – anywhere. 
6. Memorize the telephone number of the Embassy. There's always someone there to answer the phone.

Nancy Ambrose

Letter to Nancy Louise Ericke

Strikingly similar in tone to my last post, I found a heart-warming letter that my grandfather, Carl Ericke, wrote to his daughter (my mother Nancy) after she broke the news that she was engaged to my father, Edwin Ambrose. This letter also starts out funny and sweet, and then you begin to feel the overwhelming love and support between a father and a daughter, much like we witnessed in the letter between a son and his mother in my previous post (Please note that I went back to the last post and added the text in case you had difficulty reading it).

May 9, 1952

Dear Nancy,

Now I know the origin of the expression “This is so sudden!” We were waiting for a call from Bill. When I heard your voice I knew something had happened and I’m glad you kept on talking since it could have been most anything. I guess the rush of recent events here has me in the qui vive. So I am glad the news was what it was.

Comparing you with your girlfriends, I know you have a lot of common sense and good judgment. Comparing Ed with the other fellows I have met, I’d say he has what it takes. In the abstract, therefore, your decision appears to be a good one.

For me, to theorize is one thing but for you it must be more than that. So since you sounded happy it must be alright. And when you are happy your mother and I are happy too!

Since you say there is no rush – relax – be happy – have fun! I like Ed a lot and you know you are my darling.

Best wishes to you both –

Love, Dad

What record will we have of love letters written in 2011? Even if one writes an email or a text, how many people actually archive them? I heard someone say the other day how they'd forgotten how to write cursive. I think it was a joke, but honestly, the last time I wrote in long-hand was last year when I sent thank-you cards after my mother had died. It's nice to see these handwritten notes, especially of such importance, and to be able to pass them on to generations to come. It makes you wonder. What tangible evidence are we currently leaving for future generations?

Letter to Louisa Steiner Voegtly

My maternal great-grandfather is Adolph Nicholas Voegtly. His nickname was And, or Ad, the spelling of which changed depending on who was doing the writing. Adolph was born on April 1, 1871, in Allegheny, Pennsylvania to Louisa (Steiner) Voegtly and John Voegtly, Jr. He was the youngest of five children, three girls and two boys. I'm not exactly sure what is meant by his reference below  – 12 girls to one man – as I'm still researching this side of the family. But it wasn't unusual for families to have half a dozen or more children back then as their mortality rate was quite high. The Voegtly's were part of a very large extended family that lived in that area of Pennsylvania. Much more about that later.

In June, 1895, at the age of 24, Adolph wrote a letter to his mother telling her of his engagement to Nancy (Nannie) Hays. They were married two years later and had two children, my grandmother Sarah and my grand uncle John.  Anyway, it's another lovely letter that my family has kept and passed down for over a hundred years and I thought I would share it with you. Click on them to enlarge them or read below.

June 28, 1895

Dear Mamma:

You left your poor orphan children rather suddenly. I was never much more surprised than Wednesday evening when I found you had gone, on such short notice. You’ll be almost as much surprised to get this letter from me, as I was to find you missing. I have something very important to tell you that I want you to know before I tell anyone else. Can you guess what it is? I bet you can. Something that you have suspected would happen before long. I’ll not keep you waiting any longer. The news is that I thought there were not enough girls in the family – only about twelve girls to one man – so thought I would invite another to join us. In plain words – I love Nannie Hays – she loves me, and we are engaged.

I hope, dear mamma, that you will learn to love Nannie. I am sure you won’t find that very hard to do. I know it was the easiest thing in the world for me to do.

I needn’t tell you how good and nice and lovable she is – you will find that out yourself, and I know she’ll find out what a dear, good mother I have always had.

And now, mamma, dear, ask God’s blessing on Nannie and I. I asked His help and guidance in this matter many, many times. I believe He has led me to this step. We need His help and guidance now, more than ever. Pray for us. I will write again soon.

Your Loving Son,

And

Photos of the Day – Block Party