Friday, May 27, 2016

Land that I Love

On Memorial Day my thoughts go to the many who have fought to preserve our freedom and those who continue to do so. I am grateful for the many who have given so much for us. 

As I look through my ancestry, I see brave men who fought in the War of 1812, the Revolutionary War, the Civil War and both WWI and WWII and I am proud of the part they played in America's history.

Recently, we took the opportunity to visit Hillfield Aerospace Museum in Layton, Utah with a few of our daughters and grandkids who were here. We had a great time exploring the wonderful museum and ended up spending several hours there.

Among other things, the museum houses a variety of aircraft from different eras which serve as a good reminder of how much things have changed.

As I think about the men and women who flew those aircraft, I often wonder what it must have felt like to climb into the cockpit and not know if you would return home. I can't imagine how it must have felt to engage in battle and what their families must have felt back home.

Our grandkids thoroughly enjoyed the many exhibits and the well-done videos, some with footage and news reels from previous wars.

It was a solemn experience to explain to them about the Blue Star Service Flag and what a gold star in the window meant and still means today. 

As we paused for a picture and I looked into the beautiful faces of our grandchildren who were there that day (we were missing 2,) I couldn't help but feel humbled and grateful for all that we have in this great land of the United States of America.  

And I hope next time these kids see a flag or hear mention of the men who fought and the ones who still fight for our country, they will remember that our freedom came at a price.

 Thank you to all who have fought for our freedom!! 

Copyright © Michelle G. Taggart 2016, All rights reserved

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Just a Beat up Ole Fork

It was just a fork, and yet on our visits to Grandma Hostetter's house,  I was always quick to claim it as "mine" for the duration of the visit. Tines slightly bent and dull from use, it truly was not among the nicest of Grandma's silverware and certainly of little material worth and yet, for some reason, I loved it.

The silverware Grandma used on a daily basis wasn't entirely a matched set, but composed of various different pieces collected over the years. So while this piece may have been different from the others, it wasn't all alone in its uniqueness and sadly it never occurred to me that it might have a story.  So I now wonder how she came to have that fork and it serves as yet one more reminder to ask questions of the older generation when we have a chance.

grandpa, family, family history, genealogy, ancestry, Nephi Glen Hostetter, LaJara Colorado, Hostetter, fork
Grandpa Nephi Glen Hostetter
and myself, California
It wasn't until I was a young adult that grandma shared with me that the fork held a special place in her heart. She told me that it was also my grandpa's favorite fork. My grandpa who died when I was two years old, the grandpa I had no memories of, the grandpa I was told loved me dearly and liked to stand at the bedroom door just to watch me sleep. Suddenly I had a tangible connection, albeit through a crazy, beat up fork.

Although I think in ways it was hard for Grandma to give it up, she decided I should be the one to have the fork. I am grateful that, although we live in a throw away society where people toss things judged to be of little material worth, my grandma knew the worth of such treasures. You see, my Grandma Hostetter loved family history, she knew the value of our connections with the past and it was she who first instilled in me the love for my ancestors.

The fork is retired from service, but sits on the shelf in my office as a reminder that Grandpa and I had something in common, albeit the love of a beat up ole fork.

Copyright © Michelle G. Taggart 2016, All rights reserved

Friday, May 20, 2016

Foto Friday--Totally Stumped

Photos without names trouble me. Their faces seem to haunt me, to call to me, asking me to give them a name and tell their stories. My hope is that by sharing these un-named photos that someone will recognize them, help me identify them and hopefully I can then find and tell their story.

If she is the child's mother, she seems very young and yet, there surely is too big an age gap for these to be the only siblings in the family. Is the child a girl or a little boy?

I am intrigued by the scene as well. Obviously a back drop, but what about the stump? Did photographers really have huge stumps brought into their studios? The ground really does appear as if it is grass......but is it?  

No real details to betray the location, no name of the photographer, it's just one more photo to drive me crazy. 

Whoever they are, I would love to be able to save their name with their picture and better yet, learn a little about their story.

Copyright © Michelle G. Taggart 2016, All rights reserved