Success in small steps

This has been in an interesting day for me. Since my early 20's I have been researching my family, with several holes in the history that no one living seemed to be able to fill. Today, I put some putty in some of those hole, which means little to anyone else in the family.

Sallie Dupre was my grandfather Marcy's mom and died soon after giving birth to her tenth child. Her life was pretty much a mystery. I found her birth month today from a census done before she passed. Ironically, I also answered another big question today- what happened to my maternal grandmother's father after the divorce? Seems Herbert went back to California, eventually. That is where he is listed as having died. Now, with his social security number, I may be able to track down more about him. I find this research to be frustrating and interesting at the same time. Ultimately, all 95% of us ever end up being to this world is a handful of facts and maybe a few old photos. I wish there was a better way to preserve something of personality, of the who behind the face.

And we all long to feel connected, to something, somewhere. Having been separated from my siblings before my formative years, I have felt out of touch. Not so strangely, there are times when the long dead ancestors seem more real to me than living blood. Such is the curse of military life, and the modern age of moving and traveling so very much. We lose touch. I guess some part of me is attempting to sew up those perceived holes.

I also just found the death announcement of the second wife of Marcy Dupre, Zenobia, or Miss Nobie, as she was referred to by the Dupre kids I managed to know. The number of misspellings in the census and other such records is mind boggling, and a bit scary. Much can be lost or overlooked for a it. I only found Herbert's death announcement because I happened to know his birth date. His middle name, and his mother's maiden name- Guion- were both incorrect. It was luck and diligence that let me put the puzzle together.

I do have a touch of wistfulness about some of this- I wish I could share what I am fining with the grandparents now long gone. Part of my g-mom, Diddy, dearly loved her father Herbert. I think she would love to have some idea of what he did with himself after being asked to leave his young family. She was only ten years old. Closure is good for everyone.

Enough for tonight, though. I am tired and comtemplative.