One Icy Day in 1965 Mundelein, Illinois

I love living in Chicagoland...today it is high in the 50s. A week ago we were bracing for sub-zero temperatures. Today it is 70 degrees warmer than last week! Tomorrow we will be back to winter... 31 degrees predicted then on Wednesday we can expect early spring with almost 40 degrees with rain and some ice as it cools down. By Friday we should be back to winter again, but not before we experience somewhat of an ice storm.

Seeing the possibility of ice reminds me of a horrible storm in 1965. I was living in Mundelein in my parent's home with my first husband. No one was expecting it to be very bad. We didn't have the advanced notices like we do today. We were without electricity for a while. I don't remember a lot of the particulars except trying to stay warm.

When we walked outside the ice crackled under foot with every step. Our cars were covered with a thin coating of ice. We had to take hot water to the door locks to get them open. Our doggies were slipping and sliding while walking outside to do their business. Nothing was spared.

Maple Street just west of Rt. 45 in Mundelein, Illinois

The back of my parents' home on Maple St. Everything looks do dreary.

Thanks to my brother John for finding and sending me these pictures.

When You Are Little Everything Is Big: Donuts

Grandma's breadboard is still fairly large as I remember it from my childhood. Grandma got married in 1895 so I would think this board is from that era. I've had it for over 50 years and it gives me fond memories of her making donuts, molasses cookies, and bread on it. No matter what she would make on that board, it turned out perfect. I can only hope for that.

For the longest time I have been wanting to make donuts with the donut cutter that was my grandma's. Maybe they will turn out as good as hers. I still can taste that cake dough with the hint of nutmeg and them covered with flavored sugar. She didn't put any other decorations on it...just cinnamon and sugar. I loved that taste even though I don't particularly like cinnamon.

I found the cutter...cleaned the dust off of it. The cutter must be as old as the cutting board. It is about three inches in diameter and has the removable "donut hole" cutter inside. There is a knobby wooden handle on top. Between the board and the cutter, that would make those two things 124 years old...and they still work! The rolling pin is new and about one third the age.

So, I find a recipe online for cake donuts that looked similar to grandma's. Pretty simple. I have all the ingredients assembled and I start to put them together. I didn't use my electric mixer because I wanted to do this like grandma would have. Everything went in fine, but the dough was very stiff and a little lumpy. I turned it out onto the board and did a little kneading to smooth it out. Well, that didn't work well at all. I didn't want to knead it too much to make the dough tough. I covered the dough with plastic wrap to let it rest a bit. At that time Bob came into the kitchen and saw me with my head in hand and frown on face. 

Me being a little upset at the dough results, asked Bob to rescue me by helping out. He took the task of rolling out the dough and cutting the shapes. Meanwhile, I had the oil heating up in my stainless steel dutch oven with the thermometer in it. Grandma always used a cast iron dutch oven and never used a thermometer...but her donuts turned out great. I wasn't going to trust my instincts like she did hers. 

The oil was hot, the donuts were cut, Bob was at the ready to drop the shapes into the oil. We decided to drop the leftover, odd shaped pieces of dough in first. That way we could judge how long to keep them in the hot oil. I got the cinnamon sugar ready for the first drop. All's looking good. The odd shaped pieces come out, I sugared them.... Bob and I taste tested the odd pieces and they tasted good. The dough was dense, but the taste was tolerable. Now for the rest of the donuts to be dropped. All's looking good. First batch came out. I sugared them. We were on a roll. 

All the donuts and donut holes were done and sugared. They looked pretty good, too. Yet, something was wrong. They were smaller than I remember. They should have been larger like I remembered as a child. How could that be? I used the same cutter grandma did. Could it be that when you are little everything is big? 

ARRRGHH! Return Look at 7th Great Grandfather William Portas

I don't know what to do now. I'm at a loss. This is the time of the year when I should be working on my genealogy/family history and forging ahead, but my gumption is as dreary as it is outside. I come upstairs to my main computer and can't get started. I look at my tree program and there is so much that has to be filled in, I don't know where to start.

As you know, my priority surname is PORTAS and all its variations. I am a hunter-gatherer. My research has primarily been in Lincolnshire, England. I have many many PORTAS families put together and have joined many of those with my family. I am back to mid 1600s with my 7x great grandparents William and Syllina (BIRKET) m. 26 Jan 1679, Wold Newton, Lincs. Both William and Syllina are buried in Tetney parish church: William 1716 and Syllina 1720.

Previous posts on William and Syllina:

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2013    SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 2014    TUESDAY, JULY 15, 2014    

SUNDAY, AUGUST 21, 2016    SUNDAY, AUGUST 20, 2017    SUNDAY, OCTOBER 14, 2018

I've come to a screeching halt! I should have paid more attention years ago to William's baptism date. I could go further back like I thought I had done. I have unsubstantiated parent names well into the 1500s, but I'm not sure they belong to my line! ARRRGHH!

WHERE DID I GET THE 1660 BAPTISM DATE?
Well, someone gave me William's baptism date as "about 1660" and I have also seen it on Ancestry.com Family Trees. The date is suspect (no source), but does seem feasible because the parents I have for William were married about 1660. 

If William was born 1660, that made him 19 when he married Syllina in 1679. Age 19 is feasible since they did marry young back then. Yet, the odd thing is Syllina was baptized 1648 which means she was 31 years old or 12 years older than William. To me that age difference is odd and a little suspect. I'm not saying what I have is wrong, but it is something to have a serious think about.

WAS WILLIAM BORN IN1660? 
I have a feeling his birth was somewhere between 1640-1650? My cousin Margaret has William's father as a Thomas bp. abt 1640 as do others. Could this Thomas be William's brother given the oddity of William's 1660 date and Syllina's 1648? I think that is more plausible. Thomas' father is also Thomas. 

I haven't been able to find William's baptism in parish records or the Bishop Transcripts, presuming he was baptized in Wold Newton. I've looked in several other possible parishes to no avail. That far back, a lot of parish record pages aren't readable or non-existent. William could have been baptized as an adult, too, meaning he and Syllina could be about the same age.

Syllina was baptized 20 Dec 1648, Ludborough, Lincs, about five miles away. She probably was "in service" at Wold Newton and met William there. Wold Newton was an estate-town owned by the Welfitt family with less than 70 residents around 1675.

DO I HAVE THE RIGHT PARENTS FOR WILLIAM? 
In William's Last Will & Testament, he names his brothers John and George, giving each five shillings. That means both were alive at the time of the 1716 writing. In my database, under William's parents, are brothers John and George, but John died in 1686 - 30 years prior; George was still around? ARRRGHH!

SOMETHING ELSE FOR ME TO LOOK AT
The naming pattern of William and Syllina's children might give me an idea of a father's name. William and Syllina had seven (known) children: William 1679, Mary 1681, John (died some time before 1689) and Thomas 1683 (twins?), Jane 1685, Elizabeth 1688, John 1689. There aren't any big gaps in the birth dates, so I don't think there are any other children.

Usually the first son is named after his paternal grandfather, second son after maternal grandfather, third son after father, fourth son after father's oldest brother.

First born is William, then John who passed away early (his name was recycled with seventh child). Third born son is named Thomas. Following common naming patterns, you would think William's father should be William not Thomas. Thomas (bp. 1640) is my guess for William's "potential" brother. ARRRGHH!

I don't know if I'm right or not. All I know is I really have to get to a family history center to go through their images. Why oh why did I take that second look at William and Syllina?

ARRRGHH!

Smell of Wet Woolen Mittens in the Early '50s

It was snowing lightly recently. There was a slim chance of actual coverage to make the roofs in our neighborhood white, but that didn't stop me from thinking about playing in the snow when I was a little girl.

My doggie came in from the yard with some snow on her back. She smelled like wet wool. It was a distinctive smell I will never forget... It brought back a few memories from days gone by one of very wet home-knitted brown snow-packed mittens dripping on the living room floor. Grandma said, put those mittens on the heater to dry. I minded her; the water dripped on the hot metal of the heater with a sizzling sound.

I always put my brown rubber boots in back of the heater but not until the packs of snow inside the boots were emptied. My wet socks also were taken off and put on the heater along with my hat and scarf. My coat and leggings were draped on the rocking chair next to the heater. By the time all was dry and I warmed up, I had them on again. As soon as my hat came on, I was out the door for more fun. We didn't have TV to watch the day away. We didn't have iPhones and electronic games to while away the time. There was only the big out doors to play in.

My brother and I would get busy building snow forts for that inevitable snow fight. Neighbor kids would show up to help build and fortify the walls. There was always a stockpile of snowballs that each of us would put aside ready for the onslaught. I don't remember if we broke up into sides, but I remember throwing and ducking, getting hit, throwing and ducking, but never getting hurt. There was a time or two when a snowball was packed a little too tight and would sting when it hit.

On newly fallen snow I couldn't wait to go out in the school yard during recess and make a large circle, tamping down the snow into a wagon-wheel figure with a safety circle in the middle. My friends from school would play fox & geese. There was a designated "fox" and the rest of us were geese. We were actually playing tag but only on a grid. We would all race around the circle, some cutting through to reach the middle safety zone taking care not to go off the grid. I don't remember all the rules, I'm sure most of them were made up as the game progressed. It was fun none the less.

I found this online at Family Reunion Helper

Of course we made snow angels. Didn't everyone? Snowman?...yes, but not Frosty-type. Ours never come to life. Remember we didn't have TV back then and I don't remember hearing about Frosty until later when there was TV in our house. We wouldn't find the hat or scarf until a day when the snow was melted.

Sometimes if the snow was deep enough and our driveway was packed, we would get our sleds and coasters out and have fun going up and down the incline from the front yard to the back.

I don't remember if we would get a treat of hot chocolate and cookies when we would finally decide we were done goofy around in the snow. I'm sure we did because that is what grandmas do. I remember sitting by the heater to warm up.

As I got older, we also had our backyard garden flooded and enjoyed ice skating.

I wish I had pictures of my days gone by, but you know most were lost in a house fire.

Happy memories of rosy cheeks and noses with all-most frozen fingers and toes. It was a simpler life for sure. It was just fun.

Tetney Church: 7x Greatgrandparents, William and Syllina Portas

One of the churchyard stops we made during our latest trip to Lincolnshire was to Tetney's parish church St. Peter and St. Paul. This church's churchyard is where my 7x great grandparents are buried. It was a fairly hot day so we headed inside of the church. As it turned out, there was no need to cruise the churchyard looking for headstones because the earliest ones are from the 1800s according to a listing shown to us by one of the praishioners. William Portas would have been buried 1716 and wife Syllina 1720. I wrote about their wills in previous blogs... about William  about Syllina.

St. Peter and St. Paul is Tetney, Lincolnshire parish church.

According to "The Buildings of England Lincolnshire" by Nikolaus Pevsner and John Harris, published 1964, St. Peter and St. Paul church in Tetney, Lincolnshire, England is "an impressive Perp Marshland tower, high, of grey Lincolnshire oolite ashlar, with a high three-light w window and very high bell-openings in two-light twins under one ogee arch. The lowest part of the openings is blank and panelled. Blocked small s doorway E.E. The N aisle has windows of 1861 (Withers) except for the E window with its flowing tracery. The s aisle E window is Perp and pretty. The chancel was rebuilt in 1861. The interior is wide and spacious but not particularly poetical. Four-bay arcades, octagonal piers, not very hight, double-chamfered arches. On one N pier that rare thing an inscription commemorating the date of the church or this part. It states that this work was done in 1363, Robert Day being vicar. The pier bases, except for two with Dec moulding, have the characteristic Perp bell moulding. The capitals might be of any date. – Screen. Parts now displayed under the tower. Cusped ogee arches with small panel tracery much like Marsh Chapel. – Plate. Chalice, London, 1787."

The church has a very long history. It has gone through many renditions, renovations, and repairs. Its history goes beyond what we saw. When back home, I was reading about the history on the web and there was so much we missed when we were in the building. I guess that is what happens when you visit somewhere and then later you wish you had done your homework.

Paper angels flank the alter. For a history of this church click here.

Found in the church, a stone carving of a woman. Could have been part of an interior grave. This door looks old, but I don't know if it is from when William Portas was buried in this church yard in 1716.

All in all, our visit to this church was very pleasant. There were no PORTAS graves accounted for on the listings we saw. The parish register entry I found at Salt Lake City for Syllina proves she was buried 1720 in this churchyard. I'm sure William was also buried here in 1716, but I haven't found the entry in the church register yet.

Ancestors' Headstone: I Finally Got The Image Four Years Later!

Back in July 2014, Bob and I visited my ancestral haunts in Lincolnshire, England, after a couple weeks in Europe. I wrote in a post 26 July 2014, "Don't Do What I Did When Visiting A Parish Church and Graveyard,"  that I didn't get a picture of Alan's and my 4th great grandparents' headstone in the North Cotes parish churchyard.

Well on this trip -- four years later -- I was determined to get that picture! And I did. It wasn't easy though. We got to the churchyard and started to hunt for the headstone. Of course, I had left a not-so-good picture of the headstone back in Illinois, so I had to go by memory of what I saw in the image that could point to its approximate location. I remembered seeing a corner of the church building on the left side of the face of the headstone image. So around we went to each corner of the church. We looked and looked and looked at headstones. Nothing. Bob took another approach and yelled out "It's here!"

Low and behold, there it was under old chestnut trees in shade. Looking at the headstone's face, the church's corner was just where it was in the picture. 

Arrow shows where 4th great grandparents William and Elizabeth (Knight) PORTAS' headstone was found in
the St. Nicholas parish churchyard, North Cotes, Lincolnshire, England.

Over the years the shade has put a lot of green mossy smeary stuff on the headstone and it was a little hard to read, but that didn't matter, at least I was there and I could get a picture of it. I don't try to clean headstones because these old ones are fragile and any cleaner could damage it worse than that green stuff.

IN MEMORY OF

WILLIAM PORTAS

OF NORTH COATS

WHO DIED JULY 19th 1827

AGED 74 YEARS

ALSO

ELIZABETH PORTAS

WIFE OF THE ABOVE

WHO DIED DECEMBER 21, 1847

AGED 80 YEARS

BLESSED ARE THE DEAD WHICH DIE… 

Cousin Alan and me with the headstone of our 
4th great grandparents William and Elizabeth (Knight) PORTAS.

We all took pictures of it. I guess we wanted to make sure I didn't go back to Illinois without one again! 

Bottom entry is the burial record for
William PORTAS, North Coats, 19th July, 74, T. Harris Curate.

Bottom entry is the burial record for
Elizabeth (Knight) PORTAS, (living at) Binbrook, Oct 21st, 86, L. Curs Curate.

The church wasn't open. I would liked to have gotten a picture of the baptismal font. It would have been nice because all of William and Elizabeth's children were baptized in that church which includes Alan's and my common ancestor, 3rd great grandfather Joseph was baptized 1786. [Joseph and Mary (Dennis) PORTAS are both buried in St. Helen's churchyard in Mareham Le Fen. There is no headstone for them so Alan and I can't get a picture.]

First entry in North Coats Register for the year 1786,
is Joseph son of William and Elizabeth Portas was bapt May 7th

With this adventure behind me, I can finally check the box I couldn't in 2014. Now I'd like to get into that church to get a picture of the baptismal font. Yet another box on my "To Do" list to check off. I guess I'll just have to go back!

July Memories

Almost all our family pictures of when my brother and I were little were destroyed in a house fire, so there is little left except memories. Periodically one or two will come out of hiding like the one below. My memories aren't as sharp as they were years ago, so I will try my best to recollect.

I don't know what stage of the annual Mundelein 4th of July Parade this was...were we waiting for it to begin or is it just ending? I was about 4 years old and my brother is sitting next to me. We are both barefoot...our shoes weren't worn in the summer. The bottoms of our feet were conditioned to walk on stones, gravel, dirt, grass, cement, but not on hot coals...although brother John had tried it once or twice.

It wasn't long after WWII ended. Mundelein wasn't very big then and we kind of knew everyone in town. Showing our patriotism was everywhere; all over town there were American flags, banners, and red-white-blue everything...but not a "Hallmark" movie decorated town.

On the day of the big event, it seemed like everyone in town waited along Lake Street waving American flags in anticipation of the big parade which would include fire engines, town officials, marching bands, baton twirlers, veterans dressed in their military uniforms marching with the flag held high, and the throwing of hard candies at the kids. I don't remember all who participated except for my mom who belonged to the local American Legion Auxiliary post and rode in one of the bannered cars. I think the American Legion post sponsored some of the parade. There were several floats and I believe there was one for the Mundelein queen, but sure if my memory is right.

The same type of parade happened year after year for a long time. I think Mundelein is still having one, but not like the ones I saw when I was a little girl. One of the many parade memories was the Oscar Myer wiener mobile and all us kids got the infamous wiener whistle souvenir and a tour of the vehicle's inside. What fun that was! I also think it was the original mobile since Oscar Myer was a Chicago company.

Fourth of July was always a special time, not only because of the parade, but because of what all came after –– the water fights, the crazy "costume" baseball game, and the carnival in back of the school next door, and most of all fireworks. 

A couple days before the big celebration, the "Carnies" would show up along with the trucks carrying the rides and gaming booths. Since our property was at the edge of the ball field in back of the school, the carnies would park their trailers and hook up to our electricity or the poles in the back. It was fun sitting around listening them tell stories of carnivals in far away places.

On those celebration days, a few carloads of our relatives from Chicago would come out to enjoy a picnic/corn roast in our backyard. Dad would have a half barrel of beer chilling in a tub of ice for the men, soda pop for the kids and ice tea "the women." Earlier he had put fresh corn on the cob in another tub of water to be ready for the roast. He would then get the fire started in the fireplace and pit and the coals were getting red hot. Mom would be busy making potato salad, baked beans, and other good things to eat. Some of the aunts would be bringing stuff, too. I don't remember if we had hamburgers or not. I do know we roasted hotdogs over the open fire. That was fun and so delicious, too. 

The roasting of corn was a special event. Dad would use a garden hoe to pull the hot coals out of the pit and place the water-logged corn -- husk and all -- into the pit. He would then push the coals back over the corn. A few minutes later the corn was done and with heavy gloves on, he would pull the corn out of the hot coals and shuck the ears. We would butter and salt our chosen ears and pretend it was a typewriter as we ate...eat, eat, eat, ding and start on the next row of kernels. Now-a-days kids don't know what a typewriter is, so that doesn't work anymore. Even now, 60 some years later, some cousins comment of how wonderful the roasted corn was.

Of course with the carnival virtually in our backyard, some of the adults would wander off to play bingo and us kids would try our luck at some of the game booths or get free rides because the carnies used our electricity. The men stayed back to drink beer and watch the antics of grown men dressed in all sorts of funny outfits playing baseball. I don't remember who played in the game or if it were for charity or just the fun of it. I know it was a lot of fun for those participating.

Our house back about 1910. You can see the school on the left. The orchard is very young.
When I was growing up there were mature trees. My aunt Violet is standing in front and chickens are feeding.

Our house was large -- an old Victorian two-story -- and our yard was large, too. To little me, it was gigantic and a lot of fun. There was a good-sized orchard, a massive vegetable garden, several huge flower gardens, and a "little forest" of firewood trees. Yet with all that there was still room for a bunch of cars in the driveway, a screened-in summer house, a fairly large lawned area for tables and lawn chairs, and of course a chicken coop with a little yard.

As kids, we had free run of the yard -- playing tag, climbing trees, playing in the tree house, playing hide-n-seek, and running around the yard ultimately driving the adults crazy. Later when it was getting dark, my dad would break out the sparkles and we had fun lighting them and running around trying to get the sparkling stick to leave a lighted trail in the night sky. Someone would bring some minor fireworks and cherry bombs. I didn't like the noise of those bombs, but it was fun anyway.

We also had a bonfire in the unused part of our large garden. We roasted marshmallows which are best when they were burned on the outside and melted on inside. We would use them as short-lived torches, too.

As darkness approached we would all pick our spots in the back yard to watch the fireworks. A few of us kids would sit on top of the chicken coop to get a better view. For days the pyrotechnicians were busy setting up the displays in the northeast baseball field. The displays were beautiful. There were blazing displays of American flags and patriotic things along with the overhead fireworks and the bombs sounding that scared me most.

All this came to an end when the school's addition ruined the ball field and the village decided it no longer wanted the carnival in the schoolyard. But it didn't stop our corn roasts and fun.

I'm sure I am leaving a lot out, but it's been over 65 years ago...I'm doing the best I can.