Family Story Matters

  Gingerbread Men Gingerbread has been a Totoro family tradition since 1989. At that time, I was baking part-time for the Junior League. That December they asked if I could make some gingerbread men for a fundraiser. While I was a gingerbread novice, I knew the number rule of catering is "never say no" --- so I readily agreed. They ordered 125!!  I solicited help from the entire Totoro side of the family: my mother-in-law, father-in-law, and Cora . We baked, decorated, and wrapped all the men in time for the fundraising event. While I was weary of gingerbread after that busy weekend, I knew I had found my calling. Fast forward to 2001. My first year of teaching. That fall I Googled possible 6th-grade classroom projects and came across the idea of selling decorated gingerbread men for a local charity. We spent the first week of December on the project. We came up with a business name: Mrs. Totoro's Baker's Dozen (as there were thirteen students in the class). We used m...

  Vital documents and genealogy records are not the only means of revealing family history. Grandparents often tell childhood stories while sitting around the holiday table. Write those down, or better yet, record them in their own voice.  In addition, hand-me-down clothes, antique furniture, favorite toys, and various knick-knacks around the house ALL have a story to tell. In our family, Christmas traditions abound. The Coleman family focused on decorations (always the Friday after Thanksgiving), Christmas carols, and favorite holiday movies. The Totoro family, not surprisingly, focused on the food. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I collected these well-worn recipes into a book, Italian Family Christmas , as a tribute to Cora, so her legacy will continue well beyond the next generation. One of the most authentic recipes, and my husband's favorite, is STRUFOLI or Italian Honey Balls. I wrote about this Christmas Eve treat on another blog , and the Kansas City Star featured th...

  As I've discussed before, Patchwork Memoir is my vision for writing family history in a format my children (and their children) will read. As I discovered during the NaNoWriMo 2020 challenge, this is far easier said than done. Genealogy research seems to raise more questions than it answers, making further investigation necessary. This story, however, is complete. On this, my 61st birthday, I thought I would share my first Patchwork Memoir with you. My Birth Day On December 15, 1959, at approximately 4:40pm, I entered the world and forever changed the dynamic of the Coleman household. Mom and Dad had been married for nine years and given up hope of having a child of their own. But even after all those expectant years, Mom said she was unprepared to care for a newborn. Her dog-eared copy of Doctor Spock's Baby and Child Care confirmed her anxiety. And I suppose it didn't help that I was a colicky baby. Apparently, no one slept much for the first three months of my life....

  Sometimes Family History extends beyond bloodlines. Meet Cora. Carmela Petriello McKee. Cora and her husband Gerald lived upstairs from my husband's mom and dad. Cora never had children, and for nearly fourteen years, it appeared Al and Angie Totoro wouldn't either. When Geoff was born, both couples rejoiced. But when Gerald died two years later, Cora became family. Cora came from a family of nine. Both her parents were born in the Campania region of Italy -- in a small village about an hour from Naples.   Her parents likely immigrated to America sometime prior to 1890 because the 1930 census shows her three older siblings, Luigi (Louis), Giuseppe (Joseph), and Incoronata (Mary) were born in Pennsylvania between 1890 and 1895. Sicilia ship manifest 1901 Then the family of five apparently returned to the mother country because in 1901 they are listed on the Sicilia's  ship manifest. That passenger list shows two additional children added to the family: Francis (born...

When I first entertained the idea of participating in NaNoWriMo this year , I knew my project did not conform to the official rules.  I was not writing a novel.  I had no plans to write 50,000 words.  Instead, my focus for each day in November was to write one 500-word essay. That way, I would have thirty family stories to share with relatives over the holidays. In theory, this was a fine plan. My eighteen-months of genealogical research, coupled with old family narratives told around the dining room table, provided ample information for more than thirty stories. My recent retiree status provided plenty of free time to write.  Drafting 500 words-a-day is not a stretch for me. I fully expected to "win" this year's challenge.  But I discovered writing family history is not a linear progression. For every one confirmed fact, three more questions arise. That translates into hours more research using a variety of sources. What I thought would be one complete story r...

Over the last few weeks, I've tried to give the childhood account of both Mom and Dad . Both my parents were born in 1928 and both experienced tragic loss at an early age (Mom lost her father to pneumonia in 1936; Dad lost his mother to tuberculosis in 1940). I refer to the years from 1938-1943 as their "lost years."  I know Dad went to live with his father and stepmother shortly after his mother's death -- perhaps in early 1941. I have a newspaper article from 1942 that shows my father and his brother as part of the Victory Garden program in Houston.  Mom's history requires a bit more imagination. The 1937 Houston City Directory shows my recently widowed grandmother living there in an apartment -- I assume while attending secretarial school. This fact, coupled with oral history, indicates Mom must be living with her aunt (my grandmother's sister). The 1940 census confirms this living arrangement in the rural Texas town of Ellinger ("on the west side of ...

  left side: Veron Bryan right side:  Alleyne Jackson A few weeks ago I hinted at the contentious relationship between my dad and his father. The story Dad shared is (mostly) verified by the research. Walter Albert Coleman and Veron Bryan married on November 26, 1926. Walter was 17 years 5 months, and Veron 16 years 9 months. By today's standards, they were mere children. Less than fifteen months later, Gleason Walter Coleman (my father) was born. Dad claims Walter left soon after the birth. However, he returned home to Veron long enough to impregnate her one more time. When Dad was twenty months old, my Uncle Freddie was born. According to Dad, his father was completely absent from their lives until Veron passed in 1940. At that time, her sister contacted Walter to let him know it was time to take responsibility for his children.  Dad and Freddie were sent to Houston to live with Walter and his new wife, Alleyne. Dad referred to her with the same disdain one reads about...