Where do you fit in the family tree?

I thought it might be a nice idea if visitors and contributors could briefly introduce themselves and let the rest know how they fit into the family “puzzle.” For my part, I guess you’ve figured out that on my Dad’s side, I’m the granddaughter of Peter M. Janzen and Mary Dirks, and on my Mom’s side, I’m the granddaughter of Fred H. Wirth and Marie Schneidenbach. I’m a writer/editor living in State College, Pennsylvania with my beloved cats.

Landmann: J. Jacob’s son Conrad’s wife nee Oechler

Our extended family’s family tree scroll indicates that the son of the top person on the tree, J. Jacob Landmann, Conrad Johannes Landmann born 1795, married Catherine Magdalene born 1797, who I learned from previous sources was originally surnamed Oechler see Wirth-Reutzel page 5.c./5.d.).family tree scroll section showing Jacob Landmann above with son Johannes descending and married to Catherine.
New information from distant cousin Cristoph indicates that she was from the same town, Gedern. I also learned that Catherine’s father, Johann Christian Oechler born 1767, was a policeman in Gedern, and that a street in that small town, Oechlerweg (“Oechler Way”) was named after him.

To clarify the picture, here is a screenshot from my newly updated Ancestry tree:

Screenshot from Ancestry tree with J. Jacob Lanmann married to Johanna Strupp leading to son Conrad J Landmann born 1797 married to Catherine M. Oechler born 1795 leading up to parents Johann C. Oechler and Anna Gertaut Dondorf born 1768.

Note from the screenshot that I also learned from my very helpful source that the name of this notable policeman’s wife, mother of Catherine, was Anna G. Dondorf born 1768.

 

Landmann: Parent of ancestor at top of family tree scroll

When very distant cousin Christoph from the Landmann branch shared new information about our Gedern, Germany ancestors, it included generations preceding Jacob Landmann born 1770, who is at the top of our existing extended family’s family tree scroll.

First, Jacob was his middle name. His full name was Johann Jacob Landmann.

I imagine in 1770 that this would have been a bombshell, although nowadays for most people it would be at worst an eyeroll, dunh dunh dunh:

J. Jacob did not take his surname from his father, who cannot be determined by the records. He takes his Landmann surname from his mother, Johanna Magdelena Landmann born 1742, (see 7.a. on the Wirth-Reutzel page), who was unwed when he was born. She later married a Winter, but he is not our ancestor.

 

Landmann: generations we knew till now

Just to give some background regarding the new information recently learned about the Landmann branch, sometime in the 1990s, my mother’s sister somehow obtained a Landmann family tree from a distant relative and shared it with the extended family. (I need to ask her again how she came about this.) From what I can gather, it largely has information about those individuals who came to America from Germany.

At the top of that tree (which I have a printout of in the form of a large scroll) is Jacob Landmann, who lived 1770 to 1853 in the small town of Gedern, Germany. He was married to Johanna Elisabeth Strupp, who lived 1776 to 1845.

Landmann_family_tree_scroll_top

The first correction that I learned from the new information so kindly supplied from distant cousin Cristoph is that Johanna’s maiden name is Strupp, not Strudd as indicated on the tree document. I don’t know if some genealogist was dyslexic or what.

My branch is descended from Jacob and Johanna’s first son, Conrad Johannes, born 1797. Christoph is descended from their third child, Elisabeth, born 1803. Our scroll lists Elisabeth, but nothing else about her spouse or descendants, which is why I feel the scroll focuses on those who came to America.

Someday when I’m feeling more energetic and alert, I will figure out exactly what the cousin relationship is of Christoph and me. For now, “distant” will suffice.

Landmann branch: lots of new info learned, but first…

How to pronounce Landmann:

In the German pronunciation, it is pronounced /’lant man/ (IPA) or for linguistic laypeople, LAHNT mahn. In other words, not some Americanized version such as LAYND mayn.

This brings to mind the voice coach for the silent film star about to speak in her first talkie from one of my favorite classic musical movies, Singin’ in the Rain:

Original surname of great-great-grandmother on Janzen branch

Seven years ago, in my post Janzen great-great-grandmothers’ maiden names after so long, I rejoiced that I found a small document typed by my grandfather Peter Janzen that indicated that the original (maiden) surname of his grandmother Elizabeth, married to Johann Janzen, was Friesen. I was very glad, since I’d had her photo for decades, but with her first (given) name of Elizabeth only handwritten on the back.

Well, this past June, second cousin Willi in Germany sent me very credible documents from a genealogical database suggesting that Elizabeth’s original name was Baerg. (Yes, I’m so behind on making posts here that four months have gone by.)

I am inclined to believe the document from the database is correct. However, I feel funny asserting that my grandfather didn’t know the name of his grandmother. So I’m left with questions.

I do know from learning more about this Low German-speaking side of the family, which originated in the Netherlands, moved to Prussia (now Poland), and then to Ukraine circa 1800, that the cultural norm was for widowed persons to remarry quickly. They were mostly farm families–always with so many children (no birth control), there were traditional gender roles where women didn’t raise kids on their own or earn a living on their own and men weren’t expected to raise kids on their own and keep house in addition to working on a farm/at a job, and then also, life spans were shorter. There were no modern treatments for many common ailments and diseases. All that is to say, perhaps Elizabeth had previously been married to a Friesen (the name on grandfather’s typed document) and so that was her surname when she married Johann Janzen.

Perhaps I’ll figure out this discrepancy one day.

Preamble: new info learned

Thanks to a couple very helpful site visitors who share ancestors with me, I have gained new information in the last few months. It will take me a while to make separate posts in which I explain it all. In this post, I just want to emphasize how much I feel thankful to Willi for the information on my Low German Janzen branch that were 19th century colonists in Ukraine and to Christoph for the information not only on our shared “German” German Landmann branch but also the Reutzel branch, both of which are centered in the village of Gedern in Germany.

China and Japan

Recently, my siblings and I cleared Mom’s apartment, as she was moving and greatly downsizing. In our effort to find homes for various pieces, I ended up giving a home to the china set.

The set, handpainted Noritake (pronounced “nor-ih-TAH-keh”) porcelain in the “Delmar” design produced in Japan, originally belonged to my great-grandparents Paul and Katharina Schneidenbach. My mother recalls that it was great-grandfather who made the decision to purchase it at an unknown point in time in the early 20th century.

When great-grandmother was near death and my mother was getting married, it was decided that she would get the set. (She died two weeks before my parents got married.)

Some pieces are missing (e.g., 12 people can have the main course, but not all of them can get dessert), a few are chipped, and the poor gravy boat has been broken and glued back together—it may or may not be gravy-tight. This is not surprising, as the pieces have been well used for so many decades. Also, mother vividly recalls, great-grandma would not hesitate to clang the dishes around, as she also did her pots and pans.

Here is the set, sitting on my also newly obtained solid cherry hutch built by grandpa Fred Wirth.

china set

close-up of rose pattern and gilt edges around rim of china

And here is great-grandmother Katharina presiding over Thanksgiving dinner served on the same set, to my grandparents, Mom, and her sisters, circa late 1940s.

Thanksgiving dinner with turkey in center served on the china

The last time I visited my aunt and cousins, we were discussing the also-Japanese china set my cousin inherited, which belonged to Mom’s parents. Apparently, to show patriotism (or anti-Japanese sentiment?) during WWII, they hid the set away until after the war. Of course, no doubt the second-generation German-Americans had plenty of German home decor objects on display!

There is one piece in the set for which I was always curious about its intended use, a small round dish with a domed lid. The internet informs me that 100 years ago, before supermarkets sold butter in rectangular sticks and probably before refrigerators, people (who churned their own butter?) would mold butter in round molds, and keep it on the table covered in such a dish. I am now officially obsessed with locating some round butter for my next dinner party.

round china dish with domed cover

Betty Crocker’s 1950s guide to embracing housewifing

Here’s a special Throwback Thursday for you.

Sixty years ago, upon marrying Dad on Sept. 10, 1955 or shortly thereafter, Mom acquired the now-classic original 1950 edition of the Betty Crocker’s Picture Cook Book. Maybe at some point, she can provide details on whether she bought it herself or it was a gift.

Betty Crocker's Picture Cook Book cover

Betty Crocker’s Picture Cook Book, 1950 edition

Mom gave me this gem decades ago when I was in my early 20s, once she got a newer edition. Long ago, the spine portion of the binding with the book title became detached, leaving only a metal spine. I must always be ginger with the pages so that I don’t accidentally tear more of the 3-hole-punched pages then have been damaged already by flipping through (pp. 1-10 are missing altogether). It has handy paperboard chapter tabs for thumbing to a section.

Who can say how many thousands of cookbooks have been published between then and now, so why, you may ask, do I still consult this one on a regular basis?

First, it is really easy to follow and explains many details, processes, essential kitchen equipment, measurement equivalents, how to organize your kitchen work space—even how to “keep yourself up” during your busy day— that a different type of cookbook may assume you already know. I think perhaps it was written with the brand new homemaker in mind, which is what I was when I inherited it. The other reason, of course, is its great sentimental value.

A dozen or so squares with a tip and an illustration.

Page of the Short Cuts chapter of the book with great tips on keeping a positive outlook and preventing fatigue

Note: I have no recollection of Mom, who was a stay-at-home mom until I was 8 or 9, lying down on the floor when she felt tired as described in the lower left panel—this most likely would have been cause for alarm among our family!

Of course, as the title implies, it has lots of pictures of cooking stages, as well as priceless drawings implying how a 1950s wife was to present herself and conduct herself. (What do you mean, you don’t wear pearls, earrings, and a smart wasp-waist dress with an apron while making supper?!)

Illustration of man in suit and two toddlers seated at table with looks of anticipation as well-coifed Mom wearing pearls stands holding a supper dish.

Illustration of the perfect supper-serving scene for the mid-century nuclear family.

Yes, I have 40-some years of cooking experience, but it’s helpful to be reminded of how best to cook eggs, boil rice, how many minutes to bake or boil each vegetable from a handy table, how many minutes/temps for cooking each cut of meat, or how to make timeless classics like biscuits or Thanksgiving stuffing.

And by the way, in the Vegetables chapter, we are not talking about “frou-frou” vegetables now found at specialty markets like, say, arugula or edamame. We are talking about what I was familiar with in my early childhood: potatoes, corn, green beans, peas, carrots, squash, and the like.

Reflecting on my childhood food memories—and I’m pretty sure Mom made many dishes from this cookbook—there is no reference to many “melting pot” foods we all take for granted now, for example, yogurt, bagels, tacos, hummus and pita bread, to name just a few. Let’s say a recipe might call for curry powder, but there is no recipe for actual curry. (I’m sure that in later editions, many new culinary traditions have been incorporated.)

At any rate, when I’m perusing the cookbook, I always feel at ease, like no question will be a dumb question. Oh geez, is it 30 minutes that I boil whole potatoes in their jackets? Betty will know.

As an aside, I vaguely recollect my Mom telling the story that one of her sisters actually used to believe that Betty Crocker was a real person and that her mind was blown when she found out to the contrary.

Now, don’t tell me that Mr. Clean…

Grandma Marie Wirth’s art

Note: This post was inspired by a gentleman recently attending an auction in the Philadelphia area, seeing a beautiful tinsel painting in a group of items that inspired him to bid, and winning the bid. He then saw that on the back of the painting was inscribed in lovely cursive (such as the world will rarely see in the future—I understand kids aren’t taught cursive anymore), “Tinsel painting by Marie Wirth.” I surmise that he then employed a search engine to find out what he could about the artist’s name, whereupon he discovered this website. Various interesting correspondence ensued.


My maternal grandmother, Marie Wirth nee Schneidenbach, daughter of German immigrants who grew up in Newark, New Jersey, born in 1903, was, in addition to a stay-at-home mom, homemaker, great cook, and garden club member, an artist.

In Newark, Marie’s parents owned and operated a restaurant and a boarding house. At times, Marie was pulled out of school to wait tables in the restaurant. I don’t know what the official board of education rules (or child labor rules) were about that, or the following, which suggests that in the early 20th century, high school was optional. At any rate, Marie was evidently not strongly encouraged academically and nudged toward college as I was!

Marie did not complete high school as we know it now in the 21st century. When I queried my mother to clarify the history, she said, “Instead of regular high school, she had taken commercial art lessons.” Through the lessons, she learned the American folk arts of tinsel painting and tole painting, among other types of artwork.

I asked Mom if my recollection was correct that before Marie married, she worked as a commercial artist designing details on women’s lingerie, such as girdles. Mom concurred, saying, “The bit about her working for designing things on women’s girdles is correct.” After she completed the commercial art lessons, said Mom, Marie “then worked at Barclays in Newark where she did the above designing.”

Recollecting her growing-up years during the Great Depression and early WWII in Brooklyn, Mom said, “Grandma didn’t do any artwork except crafts until we were in Bergenfield [New Jersey, where their family moved when mother was in high school in the 1940s] and then later when she was in Pa.” As empty nesters, Grandpa and Grandpa moved to eastern Pennsylvania in the early 1950s.

I can certainly imagine why a 1930s-1940s housewife with three children would have no time to devote to artwork, or any type of “self actualization,” as they call it. First of all the cost of materials would probably have been prohibitive. One Depression-era story handed down was that when times were hard, Marie served a supper of crackers and milk to the family. Also, time would have been a factor—think doing the weekly laundry with a wringer washer. Each summer, the family would get away from the city to a lakeside house in the New Jersey countryside, only, as Mom recollects, while the kids played, swam, and fished, Marie would be slaving over a hot stove canning produce without the benefit of modern kitchen technology. She was probably totally exhausted!

At any rate, once they were living in Bucks County in eastern Pennsylvania in middle age, Marie’s art started to flourish. They lived in a beautiful country home with multiple levels built into a hillside. In the walk-out basement level, Grandma Marie had her art studio set up against a row of windows to the backyard and lovely gardens, which I remember distinctly from my childhood.

Here she created numerous tinsel paintings and tole paintings on metal trays.

My Internet research into tinsel painting suggests that it is an American craft popular in mid-19th century New England, and taught to young ladies. Confirming the New England angle, my mother recollects that the woman who Grandma took lessons from as a young lady was a woman named Natalie who was from Vermont.

Following are a couple examples of her tinsel painting I’m lucky to have in my home.

tinsel painting of roses with white gilded fram

Tinsel painting of roses

Small tinsel painting of pink flowers in a brown wooden fram

Miniature tinsel painting

A note about the oval frames Marie used for a number of her paintings that I recently learned from corresponding with my aunt: Although Grandpa Fred had a well-equipped wood shop and built furniture as well as restored antique furniture, he “drew the line about making oval frames. He always said he did not have the right equipment for making accurate and beautiful curves. Both he and Mother scoured antique shops, etc. to find them. So I doubt it is his handiwork except for refinishing them.”

I have an example of a metal tray on which she did tole painting as well. Although I now have it hanging on a wall, during my childhood when it belonged to our family, it was at one time used for serving, so has a bit of wear and tear.

Rectangular metal tray with black background and lip and center painted with plants, fruits, and a bird

Tray with tole painting

Since Grandpa Fred worked on furniture restoration, he and Marie often collaborated on projects. Grandpa restored a number of antique wooden chairs, including crafting new caned or rushed seats. Grandma would then paint such a chair, often with black paint, then stencil and paint a design on the chair back and use gold paint to add detailing around the legs and rungs.

This is one of two such chairs that I have. A relative who knows antiques believes it to be originally made around the 1850s; it was given to me from the estate of Fred’s sister Great Auntie Eleanor and it may have belonged to their grandmother (my great-great-grandmother) Maria Landmann Reutzel.

Circa 1850s wooden chair, black with stenciling on chair back

Circa 1850s chair with stenciling


I think it was actually very exciting and intriguing for our family to learn in the last week that Marie’s artwork caught the eye of a buyer, and also that the buyer was then in turn intrigued enough to research her name and seek to learn more about her artistic career.

Getting past writer’s block

Since my last post on this site was 363 days ago and I’m feeling a bit bad about that, I want to post at least something to break my writer’s block streak today before a whole year has gone by.

History: Not holding any info back!

First, I have not made any truly groundbreaking discoveries about new ancestors through historical records. But then, I’ve not really been actively working on that, either–part of the reason I’ve not posted.

Science: Intriguing but hard-to-pin-down relatives discovered via DNA

Since I got the results from the Family Tree DNA (FTDNA) test a few years ago, others who have used their service have turned up as a distant cousin. However, in none of those cases have we been able to figure out the relationship via historical records. Most recently, just a few weeks ago, a close match (perhaps a 2nd or 3rd cousin) contacted me, who has ancestors in the Molotschna settlement in Ukraine, but we are still working on who our common relative might be. The surnames Wiens and Dueck have floated to the top so far.

Metaphysics: Dream visitations from forebears

My reply this evening to my first cousin Orris in the “Where do you fit in the family tree” post that is stuck to the top of the blog about visitations makes me wonder if any other readers here experience those. On quite a regular basis in my dreams, some or all of the nuclear family I grew up in are visiting together, sometimes in what kinda-sorta seems to be the house I lived in from age 7-18, sometimes on a trip to an unrecognizable destination, but we’re all traveling together–in many of these although not all, my Dad, who died in 2011, is still with us.

A couple years ago, I had such a vivid dream of my namesake, Oma Mary Janzen, that I posted about it on my Facebook page, saying, “During a Sat. a.m. sleep-in dream, our family was just going to start having a party and attendees included my Mom, my siblings, my late Dad (who was taking a nap in a side bedroom–I had to go in there at some point, woke him up, and apologized), and Dad’s mom, Oma Mary, vibrant and standing tall as she looked at about age 60 in a pretty blue print dress (not diminished how I last saw her in the nursing home at age 89 in 1994), and I was so happily surprised and said, ‘Oma! It’s so nice to see you!'”

What, if anything, do such visitations have to tell us? (Other than that we really miss our lost loved ones.)

Culture: Grandmother hats?!

Last summer, I visited my sister and brother-in-law and they took me to see Mennonite heritage hot spots in southern Manitoba, Canada including a reproduction village as it might have appeared in Ukraine a century ago. A couple months later, my much more genealogically-savvy second cousin did much the same, then afterwards she made a reference to our foremothers donning a “grandmother hat” at some undefined life stage. Evidently this was akin to what my great-great grandmother Susanna Mathies is wearing in the picture I have of her. I had never heard of a grandmother hat before, and would love to learn more about this custom for women “of a certain age.”