Kathryn “Kate” Dooley, or Katie Doodle Bug as her Father used to call her, was young when she moved from Ballina, Ireland to Pennsylvania with her family. Ballina was first recorded a settlement around 1375 when a monastery was founded. Kate’s parents grew up there and saw many changes over the years.

Kate’s parents wanted a new life for their family so when they had the chance to sell what little land and possessions they had, they did. The promise of the United States of America called them in 1858 and so, with a small trunk for each family member and a large one for family heirlooms Kate made the journey with her parents and three sisters.

Kate was 6 when the family immigrated to America so she doesn’t remember much, but she did remember the ship they came over on and how all of them slept in one small room.  She remembers the small apartment they spent a good amount of her childhood in, as it was where birth of the 3 siblings; a boy and 2 more girls, took place. Katie Doodle Bug fell right in the middle of the large family and the nickname was at first thought to be because she was the youngest, but her father kept it up to make her feel special because she was in the middle.

They were a hard working family and saved enough to buy a small home. Her father worked for the Delaware, Lackawanna & Western railroad as a track laborer – back-breaking work he would have you know – while he saved for their new home. As soon as she and each of her sisters were old enough, at the ripe old age of 12, they worked in a Wilkes-Barre silk mill. Their mother did laundry for people for coins and that money feed the family for years.

Kate married James Brennan, a textile salesman she met at a local dance in her twenties. Before then her parents thought she would never get married, so they were quite pleased when James asked for her hand in marriage. They were even willing to put aside their disappointment at her marrying someone who wasn’t Irish because as far as they were concerned she could find someone in their small community of Irish-American people. But Kate and James were in love so her parents said, “At least there is that.”

Kate and James did not live far from her parents and most of her family. It was extremely helpful to have her parents near when raising her three children. Lawrence, Francis and Julia. Lawrence and Frances came to the family in the traditional way but Julia arrived unconventionally.

Kate and James had befriended Julia, a young woman who had fallen pregnant and was blissfully happy in her marriage. The young mother died after child birth from what was likely an infection and the father, grief stricken and unable to function and raise a baby on his own, asked Kate and James to raise her. He’d wanted Baby Julia to know her first mother and father through personal stories that Kate and James could tell. Kate and her family welcomed Baby Julia in their family as the unexpected surprise she was; and they cherished her. Years later Julia’s first father would come to meet her and find a healthy, vibrant, young woman who knew all about him and his beloved. Her namesake, his wife.

Just as the light moved through the window and hit Kate’s face a photographer took this picture. Julia had paid for the photographer to come to the house on Kate’s 80th birthday. Julia treasured this photo and it was passed to her eldest daughter. She told the story of how Nana became her mother. She smiled when she told about how she watched Kate embrace her first father on the very day this photo was taken. He, who’d been welcomed to the celebration of Kate’s well-loved life, and how she saw her mother crying and overheard her tell him “Thank you for letting us raise your daughter.”

Inspired by Charlie O’Hay, who provided “facts” about our Katie Doodle Bug, except for that nickname. Charlie blogs here.

Augustus Juba Freeman was born in 1866 to a young enslaved woman in Virginia named Sula, whose intelligence and beauty had driven more than one man to distraction.  The master was kind enough, and treated her as well as he would have a prized mare, and he agreed to let her name the child he had fathered.  The end of slavery was in sight, though, and if he was irked by Sula’s choice of a surname for Augustus, he did not let it show.  When Augustus was four years old, he and his mother were emancipated, and they left the home of his father.

Sula, a woman born into slavery but raised in a home where kindness prevailed, had a realistic grasp on the ways of the world, and a personality into which bitterness simply did not fit.  She boldly negotiated a generous grub stake from the master, and with this money, brought her son north to Washington, D.C.  Augustus Freeman had a clever parent who gave him the dignity of having lost his father to a farming accident, so he never had to admit to being the illegitimate son of a slaver.  This secret she carried to her death, and none was the wiser, for Augustus possessed African features and a deep coffee complexion that did not betray his real ancestry.

On their journey, Sula met and spoke freely with other emancipated slaves, and a woman gave her the name of someone who was said to be looking for a housekeeper.  Sula lost no time contacting this family, and was hired on the spot.  Though the matriarch wished for Sula and Augustus to move into her “servants’ quarters,” Sula declined, and she and her son lived in a tiny apartment a few miles away.  Winter and summer, Sula walked to work, to keep house and cook and care for another woman’s children.  Augustus was enrolled in a public school and fended for himself every day after school until his mother came home in time to question him on what he’d learned that day, and to put him to bed.

By age nine, Augustus was completely self sufficient, cooking all their meals, doing his and his mother’s laundry, and keeping their little flat clean.  These chores were the nuisances he had to get out of the way every day so he could settle down to travel the world and its history in books.  Teachers had recognized his potential, and provided him with a wealth of reading material, opening the world of ideas for him.  This child was quiet, self-possessed, and driven.  He intended to go to college and become a teacher, wanting nothing more than to give other children what he had been given:  a love of learning and history and philosophy and literature.

Sula remained fiercely supportive of her son and his ambitious drive for education and a career in teaching.  She and her employer grew to middle age together, becoming close in spite of their differences.  They saw their children reach adulthood and graduate from college, Augustus from Hampton Normal and Agricultural School in Virginia, founded in 1868, whose mission was to provide education to promising young people of color.   Hampton graduates went on to provide education to their peers, newly freed slaves from all over the South.

This photo of Augustus was taken on his graduation day, and on the day he was offered, and accepted, a teaching position at Hampton.

Even though returning to Virginia seemed to Sula a backwards step, she moved with Augustus, and they set up house on the banks of the Chesapeake Bay, in a spacious, simple frame house.  Augustus married a fellow teacher, and Sula helped to raise their children. Satisfied with her son’s success, Sula then turned her attention to her own education, and became one of the first black women in the United States to earn a law degree.  At age fifty-eight, she married, but kept her self-chosen name, Sula Freeman.

Written by Leslie Modena, Mangopunch’s Blog

Meet Elijah and Lillian with their father, John. It was a sunny day in the Midwest and the kids’ Grandmother, Alice, asked to take this picture. Truth is that she forced it to be taken.

Alice loved to see those children and she didn’t care that little Lillian was crying in this photo; she treasured it. She carried it around so often to show her friends the bottom of it was bent and torn. When she watched her son-in-law tenderly talk to Lillian as she snapped this photo she felt like an intruder prying into a private moment. Back in the day it wasn’t often that men were considered the gentle caregiver, especially when forced.

Alice didn’t see her grandchildren very often and while she hoped that would change some day soon she could never be sure, especially now that her daughter was gone. She was after all, just the mother of the mother who had died as she gave birth to her second child, a beautiful and much wanted baby girl.

Alice lived more than half a day’s trip away and was scared that the distance meant that she would see less of them, not more. Her son-in-law had preferred to handle the situation on his own, insisting that he and the children get back to a normal routine as soon as possible. That plan had served him well.

The women from John’s church had stepped in to help care for the children but he was very hands on insisting to eat dinner with them and put them to bed himself each evening. Young mothers from the church and community had nursed baby Lillian almost around the clock in those first months so that she could feel the touch of a mother during that early pain of separation, missing the mother she would never know.

John had mentioned to Alice more than once he’d be interested in moving closer to her and his parents, because let’s face it, a man raising two young children on his own? It’s unusual and John needed the support of people who knew and loved him, the children and most certainly his late wife.

Alice wouldn’t know for another year that John had devised a plan. He would work months towards planning the move that would bring him near the people that that loved the woman he did with the same energy. Alice would learn that John’s wish was to be near her with his children so they would grow up knowing their mother through the stories of the people that could tell them with veracity.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

Meet Cora, the matriarch of a farming family in the late 1800s. Husband-less, due to her husband’s unfortunate choice to drink liquor and hunt – at the same time – Cora became the rock of her family. Left to care for three children, one of whom had a child and her sister-in-law, Louisa. Louisa, also husband-less, proper and intelligent, was a local teacher for kids age 5 through age 13.

Seeing as how Louisa wasn’t married, she was the responsibility of her brother, a poor shot when he drank, so the responsibility fell to Cora. Cora didn’t mind having Louisa around as she was helpful, taught the children how to read and write and that was more than she knew how to do to any great degree. Cora could barely read and write at a 3rd grade level, but she was a smart woman who navigated farming just fine when her husband, a poor shot when he drank, went dying on her.

Cora’s children, a daughter, Mabel, with a daughter, Alma and Cora’s two sons, Hubert and Willard all at some point in their lives or all their lives worked on the family farm. Small in comparison to the farms around their land, they only had 5 acres but the land was profitable enough to support the family with a modest income.

Mabel, whose husband was in the Army, had been sent to fight a “little Spanish war” and she’d been left to raise Alma on her own. Mabel and Alma lived in a small shack on the land and they spent much of their time at Cora’s house.

Hubert and Willard were done with school thank goodness and could help plant and harvest so Cora wasn’t forced to hire wanderers off the train that ran right through their property. Hubert, “the slow one,” as people used to say, was a happy and willing fellow. Willard, the middle of the three, was a hard worker but easily distracted.

When Willard wasn’t helping on the farm, which was all or part of 7 days a week, he could be found calling on a local girl he was sweet on named Miriam. Miriam was also sweet on Willard but they would wait years before they held hands or kissed, married and went on to have a house full of children.

Mabel’s husband returned from the war after two years and he and Mabel had fallen ill with yellow fever. Both died when Alma was just six. Cora raised Alma with the help of  Louisa. During Alma’s 16th year when she was independent Louisa would move a day’s trip away to teach at a school. Cora missed Louisa’s presence more than she cared to admit as Louisa had become a confidant and friend.

Hubert never married but his niece Alma, having seen the example of how Cora cared for family members, would carry on the tradition. She would keep Uncle Hubert in her home, giving him a blessed quality life for over 40 years; a place to belong.

Over the years in the family home Alma raised 6 children. Four born out of her body but all she called her own. Three of her brood spent their lives on the farm raising babies and taking care of Alma. Alma had appropriately passed the torch of matriarch to another willing and able woman in the long line of generationally strong women.

Since Cora’s husband, a poor shot when he drank, had died, the women in the family took charge and would be in charge for generations to come.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

As with any annual gathering of William’s family, a photo around a family gravestone marked another year. This year, 1915, is just 6 years past Good Ole Billy’s death. Reunions were held on the third Saturday every August and involved manual labor as well as an evening of quilting for the ladies and cards and liquor for the men folk.

The morning of the gatherings family members who lived near would converge on the land their ancestors were born and raised on and buried in and they would prepare it for over 200 visitors. On the day this picture was taken it was overcast with patches of sun to keep the air just warm enough to be comfortable.

On the left, crouched down is young Walter, cousin to Pearl, sitting. Pearl and Walter were very close and spent nearly every waking hour together even though she was 2 years younger. They’d formed a special bond when Pearl’s mother died and Walter’s mother helped raise the only child of her sister. During her formative years Pearl spent an enormous amount of time with Walter’s family, especially during harvesting seasons. They were “close as siblings without the fighting,” as Walter’s mother said.

Summers involved days wandering around the land chasing butterflies and frogs and visits to a nearby store for a piece of candy as a treat once a week. Treats were a luxury bought by the pennies Pearl’s Daddy, Claude – the harvesting farmer – would provide. “Guilt Pennies,” as Pearl and Walter used to call the money that fell into their little waiting hands from Claude, who eagerly gave them coins.

On particularly profitable weeks when Claude was feeling generous – and particularly absent – Walter and Pearl would each get a nickle.  They would buy a Coca-Cola and a candy bar and split equally never worrying about germs. They would chant, joking with each other, “Circle, circle, dot, dot, now you have your cootie shot!”

There were days that they spent reading the tombstones in the family plot and retelling stories of dead relatives they’d heard from the women in the family while making quilts. The quilts were made for marrying couples in the family and one day both Walter and Pearl would receive one, but not because they married each other. While there were a few stories of kissing cousins, Walter and Pearl never thought of each other that way.

Except maybe that one summer when Walter saved Pearl’s life because then Pearl really did love him more. Walter and Pearl, then 9 and 7, were playing down river soaking wet as most water adventures ended up and Pearl fell. Walter was at least four horse lengths ahead of her and she fell so quickly and quietly that Walter didn’t know what happened and when he turned around she was gone. Walter saw the splashing of water and he raised each leg in the water as high as he could to get to her. When he pulled her up she was gasping for air as he noticed a trail of blood in the water as it moved away from her body.

Not wanting to alarm his cousin he remained calm but was panicking on the inside. His was breathing heavy and his heart was racing. At least a mile from home and her leg bleeding from an open wound he moved fast. He whisked her out of the water and held pressure on her leg, all the while she was screaming. He removed his suspenders to tie his shirt around her leg and he picked her up leaving the boots she was holding in her right hand before she went under.

Walter talked to Pearl the entire way home to help distract her from the pain of the wound and her fear of the blood. He walked with a determined swiftness while he carried Pearl home to his mother. His mother took Pearl from Walter’s arms and he ran to collect Claude from the fields instinctively knowing Pearl would want her Daddy around her at a time like this.

It was a long recovery but eventually Pearl’s leg healed. Pearl had a long bumpy scar to remember how Walter had carried and protected her that day. She never thought about the scar as ugly or looked at it and thought about the pain. She thought about what the scar meant; she’d survived because of Walter.

Through the years, well into adulthood Pearl and Walter remained close. “One Mile,” she used to say to him as he passed her at family reunions on the family plot, “I had to carry you, you had no boots!” Walter would say to her each time, knowing that on that summer day he’d done something very, very good.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

It was 1895 in the Yukon peninsula, and the Alaskan Gold Rush was established.  Thousands of men from all along the west coast of the United States and the Canadian provinces set out to make their fortunes in the riches that saturated the earth of northern Alaska. Just getting to the Klondike was arduous, and a man had to bring with him enough goods to last the year, usually a ton or more. Edmonton, Alberta, Canada was far from the gold fields, but was the “Gateway to the North” for the prospectors.

Edmonton is where we find our Kate, who emigrated from Walsall, Staffordshire, England, to help in the large and prosperous dry goods store owned by her brother. H. S. Eades, a renowned photographer, took this picture just before she left England.

Kate was a spinster, with little hope of finding a husband in England, and while Canada didn’t offer much more promise, she had nothing better to do, so she made the long journey.  Working for her brother in the store, as well as keeping house for him, left Kate little time or energy for socializing.  But when the local church hosted a farewell dance for the would-be miners, Kate and her brother loaded up a barrel of cider and joined the festivities.

Waiting patiently for his ration of apple brew, a middle-aged man named Horace Templeton saw what no man had ever seen before.  His eyes and Kate’s met, and in an instant, he recognized her for the modest, clever, honest, sweet woman she was.  He saw past her stout figure, her age, her working hands, her apparent unworthiness as a mate.  Horace loved the sweet cadence of her Staffordshire accent, her lovely blue eyes, the graceful efficiency of her movements.  Horace was smitten.  And Horace was not a timid man.

When the party began to break up, Kate was startled when Horace introduced himself, and asked for the privilege of walking her home.  She had felt his eyes upon her, and wondered at his direct, kind gaze.  Kate’s brother, though protective, had recognized the look in Horace’s eye, so he gave her a nod, and said, “I’ll wait at home for you, sister.”

“I want to know everything about you, Kate,” said Horace.  And, meeting his eyes with her clear and humble grace, Kate saw, too, that this chance meeting was to have great portent.  Their walk home was as slow and purposeful as any walk ever was. Dreams were revealed, hearts opened, plans made.  Horace would go on and make his prospecting run in two days’ time, but gave Kate his promise of returning for her in a year, two at the most.

During their tearful goodbyes, Kate slipped the photograph into Horace’s coat pocket, and he left for the Yukon a happy man.  And Kate began waiting, as only a woman can wait.

Written by Leslie Modena, Mangopunch’s Blog

Frank was a great guy. Much to the dismay of his mother, Frank reached age 35 without being married. Frank loved cars, everything about them. He loved to sell them too. On many a Saturday he would meet a couple in his showroom, talk directly to the husband – the decision maker – and make a deal.

Except for that one Saturday when he talked directly to the wife. The husband didn’t even notice that Frank was flirting with his better half as he was inhaling and exhaling on a Winston cigarette.

Harry and Christina (or Chrissy, the pet name Harry had for her) were married for 2 years at the time that they walked in the showroom to purchase a new car that day. Their first new car. Harry got a promotion months earlier and they were saving to pay for the new car. A sturdy car that would carry their future family to dinner parties and picnics and Harry to and from work and Chrissy to the grocery store and bank.

But that day Harry and Christina didn’t know that those family fun times would never happen because the moment Frank saw Christina he knew he wanted to be with her. Not just “be with” her but to have an all consuming life with her. He wanted to give himself completely to her and she to him.

But he’d never done that before. Over the years he spent time with various women who he didn’t want to marry, nor did they want to marry. They were “loose” women. Women who knew they weren’t marriage material.  He had a good life. Money, scotch and women. Then it all changed.

For the next few months Frank found reasons to call Harry and Christina about their car. One time he called to ask how they liked the car and another to see if they needed to service it. Yet another time he called and reached Christina directly.

They spoke on the party line about mundane things but Christina was not a stupid woman. She attended college until she dropped out to marry Harry. She always wanted to return, but now that she was married and hoping to start a family, she knew those dreams were lost. Over the next weeks Frank encouraged her to continue her education, and then asked her to come to lunch.

She knew she shouldn’t go, but she liked the attention that Frank seemed to provide and so she went because it seemed far enough away from her friends and neighbors. He told her she was beautiful. She told him to stop because it wasn’t appropriate. He let his hand softly touch hers as he reached for his lunchtime cocktail and she pulled her hand away. Yet, she was still there enjoying how Frank made her feel.

It wasn’t before long and those lunches became regular occurrences. Christina, always found a reason to be in town for jewelry to repair, a special order to pick up, or to attend a doctor appointment. She knew it would end up happening; her kissing Frank on the way out to her car in the alley of the restaurant and it was over.

An all powerful love affair began and before Christina knew it she was in love with Frank. She ended up leaving Harry and losing her entire family in the process. Harry ended up remarrying Helen, a young widow with a 3 year old son and they were gloriously happy as they added to their family over the years 2 other children.

Frank and Christina had a long life together. Christina finished college like she wanted and Frank encouraged and they traveled and dined at fine restaurants. They never had children, but had always known that being with each other were enough.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes

Homer is the son of 3 generations of miners in West Virginia. Raised with two sisters, a brother and a grandmother in a home built by his grandfather and uncles, he took to books instead of manual labor.

Because mining was all they’d known, his parents didn’t always think taking to books was a good way to go and they thought he should probably follow in the footsteps of the men folk in his family, for security, for the future. He didn’t.

Homer was a quiet boy and had grown into a reserved young man. To the bystander, it appeared he was the outsider to his family. He’d done well in school but his parents and grandparents wanted him to drop out of school at age 16 to become a miner. He went against the expected path and stayed in school and made repairs of machinery for money he was saving for college.

He never knew that attending college was his parent’s greatest wish for him, they didn’t know it could be possible. They’d been saving for years a few cents here, a dollar there. While they didn’t really know how to express their happiness and pride to Homer directly, they were immensely proud.

Homer did attend college. Even at age 17 he worked tirelessly with the small high school (67 graduates that year) to learn what he would need to do to attend. He was his town’s greatest student. By way of the school counselor people from the town of miners often pitched in their pennies to help support him through the years, him never knowing how his needs were continually met.

He finished college as an engineer with the highest grades in the school. The professors never knew what fueled him to study so hard. They didn’t know why engineering meant so much to him and in particular why the mining industry held such a hold on him.

They didn’t know that throughout his life he’d watched his family bury 6 relatives, among them a grandfather and 2 uncles and countless neighbors due to unsafe conditions below the ground in the dark. He never wanted another family to suffer the losses his family had suffered. He’d always believed that those missing members of his family impacted his life, his siblings, cousins and community in immeasurable ways. Those losses would fuel his desire to change mining safety – which he did for many years – saving a community of people from the pain of a coal miner’s death.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes