GG with some Shakers!
I made some home made shakers with some old easter eggs and fruit flavored cheerios for GG to play with. She loves them.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Some of my ancestors...
Maine is quite literally littered with graveyards. Every few miles you come along a new graveyard. The interesting thing is that many of these graveyard seem to be placed on hills. Maybe so they wouldn't take up usable farm land or something. We stopped at the East Bethel Cemetary to look at a few of my relatives gravestones.
Here is my Grandfather William Straw Hastings. Straw was not his given middle name. I will update the story of why he took the middle name Straw in my next post. He and a good friend of his drown in a boating accident when my dad was nine.
My Grandmother, Ruth Linnie Cole Hastings. Raised 3 children by herself by working as a teacher. Completed her college degree late in life. I remember very little about her except that she sewed us boys a ton of clothes, and when she died, we inherited her Ford Grenada.
My Great Grandfather, George Kimball Hastings. He committed suicide a few months after my Grandfather died. He was depressed about the death of his son, had some health problems, and a great hatred for hospitals due to his feelings that hospitals led to his wife's death. He was a big time hunter and worked with his uncle Gideon to trap capture wild animals. A deer George caught was sold to Central Park in 1890.
My Great Grandmother, May L Hastings. To put her two sons through college, May went into the egg producing business.
My Uncle...He was a Marine, and the quintessential outdoors guy. Worked in the woods of New Hampshire all of his life and specialized in underwater rescue / recovery.
And finally, my dad and step mom. It is a little weird to stand next to your father looking down on his grave stone. He made sure to tell us that he doesn't want to be buried there...he wants to be cremated and scattered over Montana. The stone is for letting people know that he exited.
My next post will be on the 3 Hastings houses in Bethel. One of them is a museum, one a private residence (but maintained as a museum)and the third is a bed and breakfast complete with an Italian restaurant and martini bar.
Maine is quite literally littered with graveyards. Every few miles you come along a new graveyard. The interesting thing is that many of these graveyard seem to be placed on hills. Maybe so they wouldn't take up usable farm land or something. We stopped at the East Bethel Cemetary to look at a few of my relatives gravestones.
Here is my Grandfather William Straw Hastings. Straw was not his given middle name. I will update the story of why he took the middle name Straw in my next post. He and a good friend of his drown in a boating accident when my dad was nine.
My Grandmother, Ruth Linnie Cole Hastings. Raised 3 children by herself by working as a teacher. Completed her college degree late in life. I remember very little about her except that she sewed us boys a ton of clothes, and when she died, we inherited her Ford Grenada.
My Great Grandfather, George Kimball Hastings. He committed suicide a few months after my Grandfather died. He was depressed about the death of his son, had some health problems, and a great hatred for hospitals due to his feelings that hospitals led to his wife's death. He was a big time hunter and worked with his uncle Gideon to trap capture wild animals. A deer George caught was sold to Central Park in 1890.
My Great Grandmother, May L Hastings. To put her two sons through college, May went into the egg producing business.
My Uncle...He was a Marine, and the quintessential outdoors guy. Worked in the woods of New Hampshire all of his life and specialized in underwater rescue / recovery.
And finally, my dad and step mom. It is a little weird to stand next to your father looking down on his grave stone. He made sure to tell us that he doesn't want to be buried there...he wants to be cremated and scattered over Montana. The stone is for letting people know that he exited.
My next post will be on the 3 Hastings houses in Bethel. One of them is a museum, one a private residence (but maintained as a museum)and the third is a bed and breakfast complete with an Italian restaurant and martini bar.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Hastings Farm.
I'm still up in the woods of Maine and have only a very sketchy Internet connection but here are a few pictures of my trip down Hastings Lane.
The Hastings Farm. It has been in the family since 1792. My Dad's cousin Sonny has a dairy operation set up, and raises corn and hay. In Minnesota, they have a bunch of "Century Farms", farms that have been in the same family for 100 years. This one has been in the same family for over 200 years.
Right below the Hastings Farm sign is a large granite boulder with a metal sign attached. Here is a picture.
The sign says,
Non Historical Marker. On this spot February 29, 1776 Absolutely Nothing Happened.
We were at the family farm to celebrate the birthday of my Dad's Aunt. She is 103 years old... and very alert. She made sure that we all went out to look at her cows.
Here is a picture of the house build in 1792. I have pictures of my great great grandfather and his family sitting right out front these very same doors.
In 1923, my Grandpa build his family a house across the driveway from this house. My Dad and his brother and sister were all born in this house. In the basement, my grandma set up a chicken operation and incubated chickens to sell the eggs and broilers. My dad said he always hated having to go down to work in the chicken coop in the basement. Here is a picture of the house:
Here was my grandparent's room, and the room my dad was born in.
It is a little strange to travel 3,000 miles across the country and stand in the exact room your father was born in 73 years ago. Anyway, I'll post more later. Tomorrow we are taking a train up the tallest mountain east of the Mississippi - Mount Washington. I've got a bunch of shots of the old gravestone of my ancestors, and some really cool pictures of some of my ancestors houses that are now museums, and in one case a martini bar...
I'm still up in the woods of Maine and have only a very sketchy Internet connection but here are a few pictures of my trip down Hastings Lane.
The Hastings Farm. It has been in the family since 1792. My Dad's cousin Sonny has a dairy operation set up, and raises corn and hay. In Minnesota, they have a bunch of "Century Farms", farms that have been in the same family for 100 years. This one has been in the same family for over 200 years.
Right below the Hastings Farm sign is a large granite boulder with a metal sign attached. Here is a picture.
The sign says,
Non Historical Marker. On this spot February 29, 1776 Absolutely Nothing Happened.
We were at the family farm to celebrate the birthday of my Dad's Aunt. She is 103 years old... and very alert. She made sure that we all went out to look at her cows.
Here is a picture of the house build in 1792. I have pictures of my great great grandfather and his family sitting right out front these very same doors.
In 1923, my Grandpa build his family a house across the driveway from this house. My Dad and his brother and sister were all born in this house. In the basement, my grandma set up a chicken operation and incubated chickens to sell the eggs and broilers. My dad said he always hated having to go down to work in the chicken coop in the basement. Here is a picture of the house:
Here was my grandparent's room, and the room my dad was born in.
It is a little strange to travel 3,000 miles across the country and stand in the exact room your father was born in 73 years ago. Anyway, I'll post more later. Tomorrow we are taking a train up the tallest mountain east of the Mississippi - Mount Washington. I've got a bunch of shots of the old gravestone of my ancestors, and some really cool pictures of some of my ancestors houses that are now museums, and in one case a martini bar...
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