Family History
I decided to add this page to my blog after a fun evening with Melanie and Joe. Joe was talking about the clothing lines, besides Jantzen, that Dad and his dad rep’d for. It was so fun to listen to, but I immediately became apprehensive about not being able to remember the details. It occurred to me then to use my blog to capture some of these stories. So this is my big request to you, siblings, partners, cousins (once, twice, thrice removed), nieces and nephews and your families, to please tell your family stories.
In the box below “Leave a Reply” type in your story. Then click the “Post Comment” box. I will then get a notice to ok the post after which it appears on the site. This is a new effort, so will learn to manage as we go along. And post photos!
So let see what happens next!
Marion, Elizabeth and Lee with their aunt Mary Dean, 1924?
My second cousin Del Richart sent me this wonderful photo. This would have been when Mary Dean came from Las Animas Colorado (where mom was born), to Salt Lake City, to take the infant Lee (my uncle), back to Las Animas after the death of the children’s mother, my grandmother, Elizabeth Kyle O’Malley.
Mary Dean is Del’s grandmother, sister to Lee O’Malley.
Uncle Lee was raised by Mary Dean until our grandfather, Lee O’Malley took him back to Salt Lake City when Lee was 9 or 10. Until that time he was treated as Mary’s son.
Well, a day late commemorating Mom’s death in 2008. Nevertheless I raise a glass to her sweet late self! And I remember two momisms – things she would say in her inimitable way-
“Well, scuze me for livin’!”, and I also recall her saying to me, “Well, I’ll be up there on the balcony of heaven wavin’ to all you kids down in the fires of hell!” Right then I knew there was no heaven hell or purgatory or limbo either because I knew she didn’t believe it! I think it’s more like a party, and she’s got her feet up with her favorites.
April 5, 2011 at 4:08 am
Betsy:
I enjoyed reading the entries on your blog. I tried to paste a couple documents here; but couldn’t figure out how to do it. I will just relate the point I wanted to make. As you will probably recall, Sarah Jane O’Malley McCabe and her husband, Tom, raised my grandmother, Mary, and your grandfather, Walter Lee, when their father, Walter, abandoned them when his wife died. I have Sarah’s obituary, marriage certificate and death certificate. Her obituary lists her mother’s maiden name as Julia Downey. Her marriage certificate lists it as Julia McNally and her death cerfificate as “unknown”. Since Sarah herself, or her mother, could have been the source for the information on the marriage certificate–I tend to believe it. Sarah’s son Thomas was the source for the death certificate and I am not sure who was the source for the obituary. In researching I use both Downey and McNally; but have never been able to confirm her on a passenger list or other document that might tie her back to Ireland. Census and other date confirm she was from County Mayo; but I can’t find anything more specific than that. Conflicts like this are what make Genealogy both interesting and frustrating.
Del Ritchhart
March 21, 2011 at 5:36 pm
Joe wrote this a few years ago when we were discussing Mom and Dad’s headstone.
I see so clearly the sun shining after an early morning cleansing rain, Dad is squinting into the early bright sun, full of happiness and enthusiasm, giving last minute instructions to Mom on pulling in the line and pushing off, and Mom really always so competant thinking for a moment only how did we manage when he was on the road, then the new speed of the boat flips back her hat brim and I see her smiling with the vision of the sky, clouds, trees, light dancing off the water, and her adoring love for Dad, and I can see them heading out for a new day. “Day-O”
March 12, 2011 at 4:32 pm
I learned that Dayo means joy arrives. Must find the book again that tells what language. African, but not sure which language.
April 5, 2011 at 4:12 am
I just read that last night in the book I am reading that you leant me; the VI Wasrshawski Novel, Hardball, page 191!
April 5, 2011 at 2:18 pm
I’ve never seen this photo and Mom so young!
And Joe’s story pulls at my memories.
Great idea, thanks Betsy.
March 12, 2011 at 3:40 pm
Dear Betsy, Mary Dean was the sister of our grandfather, Walter Lee O’Malley, not Leigh as in your story. (That’s the Mary and Lee that I am named after.) The only Leigh in the O’Malley line is our cousin Leigh. Our uncle Lee was maybe styled “Leigh” by his english wife. I have the original of that shot of Mary Dean and the bereaved children. Thanks for this blog. It’s great. Love, Lee
March 9, 2011 at 1:33 am
Great, thanks for the correction…those Lees are as difficult to track as those Joes. At least the Joes don’t cross gender!
March 9, 2011 at 2:07 am
Joe sent this story to me and I am posting it for him.
About Joseph Henry Miller III and Marion Howard O’Malley Miller
My parents were young when there were not many people. At Mom’s dad’s funeral, there were only about five people, besides our family.
Before Dad met Mom, Dad was becoming a priest, but one day he got the call, and he became his father.
He climbed into his father’s car, along with his dad’s fishing pole, and drove Nevada, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah. Out on the road, once in a while, another car would appear. Dad would see it from a long way off and when it got close enough, Dad would move from the center of the crowned road, pass, and then he would move his car back onto the middle of the road. While he drove along from one distant landmark to the next, he would sing in his strong, quiet voice: Oh, the window she is broken and the rain is coming in, and if I do not fix it, it will soak me to the chin. But, if I wait another day, the rain will go away, and I don’t need a window on such a sunny day.
Besides Dad, Mom adored her younger sister, Elizabeth. She and Elizabeth grew up together on the hill at Saint Mary’s. Mom always loved the Blessed Mother, perhaps the only mother Mom ever knew.
Then Mom met Dad in his dad’s car, with his fishing pole. And they went up into the mountains. And Mom and Dad’s family began.
We lived up on the avenues with not many houses. When Dad was on the road, during the days, Mom would play music on the radio and the phonograph while she worked on the baking. the sewing, and the cleaning. The house would boom with Schubert’s Ave Maria, or Gene Krupa on the drums. Sometimes, it would become quiet, and she would sit and draw with her pastels in her drawing book: a portrait of the Blessed Mother, in blue.
Along with the Virgin Mary, Mom revered Beethoven. Once, Mom said that all the parts of Beethoven’s symphonies are equal. The beautiful parts, those being a foretaste of the Beatific Vision, are made so by all the other parts. She said it was important to listen equally to them all.
After two weeks of traveling Dad would come home, sometimes with a big string of fish which he would show off in the back yard, in the twilight.
He was happy, as was Mom.
Joe Miller, IV
February 5, 2011 at 7:55 pm