Irish Mason Musings & Meanderings

Sentimental Sunday - Football

2012-02-05T15:23:00.000-08:00

It's been a long time since I was down here by the river with you all. I had to go away for a while. I really missed you!

Sentimental Sunday - one of my favorite themes - and it's Super Bowl Sunday! I love football! It's actually something I feel pretty sentimental about.

When I was young no one in our family had a lot of money. TV sets weren't common in every household as they are these days. I remember well how excited the entire family was when my beloved Grandma won a color TV set! Not only a TV - but COLOR! Wow! There were lots of occasions for gathering the family at Grandma's house and on this occasion it was a gathering to witness the magic of the TV. So what was the first thing we watched? Football, of course! It was beautiful! What a great introduction to color TV!

When I was 12 my mom married into the Air Force and we started travelling & living in different states. No matter where we went we found a football team to follow & root for. It united us as a family. It didn't matter if we boys or girls. We all loved football! We are not quiet watchers of football. We're rowdy & loud!

One of our favorite teams was the Kansas City Chiefs when we were stationed in Missouri. Lenny Dawson was the quarterback. We didn't have air conditioning and we had a hard time adjusting to the humidity & heat of Missouri after living in northern climates for a long time. We had a circular fan. We would get towels wet and wrap them around our shoulders & gather in a circle around the fan - leaving room for a good view of the TV. Funny that I remember those times so fondly now when at the time we were cooking! Now the Chiefs are my favorite team's rivals. We moved & loyalties changed.

I married into the Air Force as well & travelled with my husband for 30 years to even more locations. He's not a football fan as I am but he has tolerated my love for it. Luckily he often works when football is on so I can holler and jump around to my heart's content. Again....loyalties depended on where we were stationed. I remember well being stationed in Tampa when the Buccaneers were not doing well. Fans would wear toilet seats around their necks and brown paper bags over their heads. They weren't proud of the Bucs but they were still supportive - still loyal.

When we were stationed the first time of two in Arkansas I worked at a guitar store. There was a really great bass guitar player who frequented the store. He was also an Arkansas Razorback player but I knew him more from the guitar playing. One day he was in the store and everyone was talking about how he had just become the fourth pick in the first round of the draft. I was young and not as educated about football in those days. I had no idea what they were talking about. I jokingly handed him a business card and asked if I could have his autograph. You could hear a pin drop. Everyone hushed as if I'd committed a major crime of etiquette. He was really nice though and signed it and I was quite tickled. His name was Dan Hampton and he played for the Chicago Bears for quite a few years - during their best years in my opinion. #99 was the player our family kept track of and rooted for all those years. Now he's in the Football Hall of Fame. No one would make fun of me now for getting that autograph! I kept that card for many years until finally it managed to be stolen by movers.

The only time I fell in love with a team and followed and supported them without living in the area was when I started watching John Elway and the Denver Broncos. Mile High Magic! I thought they were the absolute greatest. I still do even when they don't play as well as I'd like them to. ;) I felt really great about retiring to Colorado and living in the state that they represent. I know that even if I were to someday move away from Colorado - I'd never lose my love of the Broncos. They'd still be my team. My favorite years were when the Broncos led by John Elway won two Super Bowls. Of course those would be the favorite years! There were great Broncos playing then - exceptional players who all executed the game with precision and greatness! One of those became my favorite player of all time - Shannon Sharpe - #84 - the greatest tight end ever in my opinion.

It was disappointing to have Shannon leave the Broncos to become a TV analyst for CBS but we totally understood his move. It was a wise decision. This past year Shannon held a contest where his Twitter followers could watch him on TV during his show and guess the designer/s of his shirt, suit, tie and watch. If they won they'd get two tickets to the Super Bowl. Wow! I put my research skills to work. Genealogy has really honed them a lot & as genealogists know - we have to get pretty resourceful sometimes. I had no clue about fashion - not even women's - so trying to figure out men's fashion presented quite a challenge. I like a challenge though. What I really wanted though was a jersey from Shannon. I played the game more for fun because I knew I wouldn't be able to attend the Super Bowl. I learned a lot about men's fashions during those weeks! Christmas came and went and there was still no winner and I was beginning to think that none of us would ever be able to guess the right designer/s. Then came New Year's Day - January 1, 2012. I submitted several guesses. ;) I waited. Then came the news announcing that there was a winner and lo and behold it was ME! I did a lot of jumping around and screaming and yelling and crying! I was beside myself with joy and excitement.

Shannon is one of my heroes. His life story has touched and inspired me. He's a three time Super Bowl winner and a member of the Hall of Fame. He didn't start at the top though. It's hard to imagine how poor he was in his younger days. He overcame a lot & never gave up. He's a self made man and that's the kind of person I honor most and that I most consider to be a hero.

When Shannon learned that I couldn't attend and I offered the tickets to someone else he offered me a choice and said I could have a game worn jersey instead if I wanted. Not just a jersey but a game worn one! I'm not a very lucky person and I don't win things so winning this was a HUGE event! Shannon kept his word (as he always does) and I'm now the proud owner of a game worn Shannon Sharpe Broncos 84 jersey! Imagine that! Owning the jersey of one of my heroes!

I got to thinking a lot this year about how football has been such a central part of my life. The last time I was with all of my siblings together was twenty years ago - and we were watching the Super Bowl together. It makes me sad to think that for many reasons we've just not found the time / opportunity for all of us to be together again since then but it makes me feel extremely blessed to have the memory of us all gathered - as we were growing up - around the TV set watching football - the Super Bowl no less!

I'll watch the Super Bowl alone today but I won't really be alone in spirit. My family will be with me in my thoughts. I know that those of us who are still alive will all be in front of a TV set watching the same game. We won't be in the same house but we'll still be together in what we're doing. I honor & cherish that.

Treasure Chest Thursday - Priceless & Non Tangible - Stories

2010-04-29T14:19:00.000-07:00

I was lying in bed this morning unable to sleep so I walked down here by myself to the river and listened to the rhythm of it and let my mind wander as the river spoke to me. Oh how I wish it really could! The stories it could tell! Suddenly I knew what I want to share with you today.

I want to share the value of stories - sharing them in any way you can - passing them down from generation to generation. Who could put a price on THAT Treasure Chest? It doesn't matter if you speak the stories personally and / or on recorder or if you write them down or however you find a way to pass them on. What you share when you share stories is oral history - and a part of yourself - a part that no one else can really know until they hear it from YOUR perspective. Others can look at your life and write an obit. You have the power to fill in the details that go so far beyond that! You have the power to leave a legacy. Never underestimate the value of that!

I've shared that my grandmother was orphaned when she was 12 - the eldest of 6 siblings. What 12 year old asks family history questions? She did have some connection to her extended family so it wasn't as though she didn't know anything. It was just that she didn't know very much. She lamented that. I had to trace her entire line as genealogists do - step by step starting with the death certificate. I'm so proud of being able to do that - and so sad that she wasn't there to share it with. She died when I was 12. I would have loved to have given her that gift. She gave me so many - and none of them ever cost any money. I truly don't remember a gift she ever bought me. Yet the treasures she gave me are immense!

On my dad's side ... well...you know that I tragically lost him when I was 2. I was far into adulthood before I even had the slightest clue about his life beyond his name and the fact that he had drowned. Because I didn't have any contact with his family I had no way of sitting at their feet and asking questions - allowing them to share with me the stories of their lives and the stories they could remember from their forbears. There was a huge hole in me - a huge desire to know my heritage. So again...step by step starting with the obituary a brother happened to find and then the death certificate and so on. I was so blessed with everything I learned about my dad!

My family has never had family heirlooms passed down. My mother started changing things with her generation and even now she sorts things and make plans. No one before ever did that. People threw everything out. It's insane in my opinion but I can't fix it. I plan to follow in my mom's footsteps. There are things I hope to pass on as heirlooms - even if inexpensive - just little treasures with sentiments attached.  We lacked in stories and we lacked in "things". So most of the Treasure Chest Thursday things I can share are things I've been fortunate enough to receive that belonged to my dad. I also have a tendency to share things that would equally fit into Sentimental Sunday blogs. Oh well..... That's just me. :)

What I realized standing by the river this morning was that of all the treasures that I have from my heritage - the ones that mean the most to me never cost a penny. Nor are they tangible. The treasures are the stories that have been shared with me about my dad and his family by my cousin John and my stepmother Maggi. John was able to share with me stories that pictures don't tell, that military records don't tell, that medals don't tell.  The same is true of my Mama Maggi. She could even share the stories from her perspective of meeting my dad, their marriage, his likes & dislikes, little funny stories, and also of his death and what happened that day and everything after. A picture of her with my dad wouldn't tell me those priceless stories. I have been able to get to know my dad through the stories shared by the people that knew him. What a gift!

Tell your stories. Share them.  Even if no one seems to want to listen right now - share them, record them, write them down. Someday maybe someone will be like me and be searching to know anything and everything they can. Someday maybe someone like me will want to soak it all up. Someday maybe your stories will be the priceless gifts in the legacy treasure chest of their lives.

Elsie's Poem - "To A City Sister"

2010-04-27T14:01:00.000-07:00

This is a poem written by Elsie. I love her spirit!!! As a brief reminder if needed - Elsie was my GGrandmother and immigrated from Scotland to Montana.

"Written on the homestead near Fort Benton, Mont.
July 12th, 1910.

"TO A CITY SISTER"

You may live in your flat in the city,
And enjoy the city's gay life,
But, I'll choose my home on the prairie,
And be just a plain farmer's wife.

You may live like a Lady of Leisure,
Have nothing to do but rest,
But for me there is a great more pleasure
Holding down a claim in the West.

You may take in the city's great dances,
Or balls I should say, I suppose,
But I'll choose my pony that prances,
And champs on his bit as he goes.

You may take in the city's grand concerts,
You may sit in your parlour and gossip,
With callers all the day long,
But I'll take my hoe to the garden
And work to the meadowlark song.

Your home may be modernly furnished,
And everything lovely and neat.
Our home is a one room shack only,
But our happiness there is complete.

You may choose city life with it's splendor,
And happy you also may be,
But there is naught to compare with the freedom,
Of this wild prairie country for me.

But then after all does it matter,
If our home be a shack or a hall,
We know that our heavenly father
Watches over and cares for us all.

And as the years pass swiftly before us,
And we get more feeble and gray,
We can live with our memories together,
Till God will call us away."

By Elsie Brown
***********************************
I know Elsie's blood runs strongly in my veins! I'd rather be in the country than the city. I prefer nature to concrete jungle. I live simply and I like it that way. Elsie talked on the tape recording of her little shack - and she said "Oh, but it was a MANSION!". She had such passion for her little home. I feel the same. I walk with my walking stick and think of Elsie and her passion for the freedom of the outdoors. I sit in my little "shack" and it's mansion to me. Thank you, Elsie, for coming to America! Because of you - I am.

Sentimenal Sunday - Great Info & Insights - Great Grandma On Tape

2010-04-25T20:50:00.000-07:00

Another Sunday and we're sitting here by the river on this beautiful Spring day and I'm thinking of my Scottish great grandmother Elsie.

Before I came down to join you today I took some time to listen to something that made me very sentimental. So for my Sentimental Sunday offering I'm going to share something that would equally fit into the Treasure Chest Thursday theme. I think most of my entries on those days could be interchanged! ;) I definitely prefer the story telling to the fact sharing - but as I've admitted many times - I realize how important both are. Today's story is an illustration of that.

I shared with you about Elsie and her trip to America in a previous chat. On March 10th I shared a Treasure Chest Thursday story called "Coming to America - Letter From An Immigrant Ancestor". For those who were here to listen to me tell that story, you will have already heard much of this....but not all.

My dad's first cousin (Patty Gross) is a great genealogist. I'm very fortunate as you know that I've been able to find my dad's family in various ways over the years and she is one of those special people. They have all helped me to piece together my dad's life and his line. Through them I've been able to get to "know" people I either never met or don't remember. I'm very blessed! Those of you who have followed my stories understand why.

Patty did something not every genealogist thinks to do. I'm a beneficiary of her special thoughtfulness and attention to detail. Patty sat down with my great grandmother Elsie and made a cassette recording while interviewing her. I love that the tape includes little kids chattering and moving about. There are clearly at least 3 generations in that room as Patty asked questions and Elsie responded. Family! A moment in time captured on tape - and with it so many other moments. Past & Present converged and left a legacy for the Future. Beautiful!

Elsie was 21 when she sailed away from Scotland never to return. Instead of going to a city - which would have made a lot of sense - she travelled to somewhere remote and undeveloped - Montana. What courage! There she met and married my great grandfather and had their children before they moved on to Idaho.

On the tape she still has her Scottish accent which is amazing to hear. I wish I had known her - wish I had been able to sit at her feet and ask her a million questions about her life before and after coming to America! I have this precious tape though and I can hear her actual voice. I connect. I relate. I hear her saying things I myself say. I hear her tell stories in a way very similar to how I tell stories. I even felt a strong feeling of familiarity when I saw my first picture of Elsie. She was standing as though looking off into the distance (a pose I'm often in) with a walking stick that looks just like mine! I couldn't believe it! It's a silly thing maybe - but I think of Elsie every time I use my walking stick now - and I use it a lot.

Elsie talked about her first meeting with my great grandfather - and how they had a little bit of a go 'round about his cat getting into her milk. It's a funny story and how she tells it is funny as well. She talks about her life on the homestead and how her 12 x 14 place with a window in the front and another in the back was a "palace". She kept it so clean you could "eat off the floors" others said. She talked about how she cried when their first cow died and how it took over a year to save the money to buy another one. She talked about the Eastern people who foolishly sold most of what they had and shipped the rest West to homestead - with no place to put most of it. Dreams met Reality in Montana and many were unable to cope with it and some committed suicide. Blizzards, isolation, tragedy....she told stories of interest and agony. One heartbreaking story told of two young boys who went hunting and got lost in the endless prairie. When their bodies were found the older was holding the younger. The mother lost her mind. It was a hard life. She talked about the distances to travel and about moving by wagon and about the first Ford they bought. She talked about her garden and the crops of wheat and oats and barley(reminding me again of "Fields of Gold"). She sometimes would forget what she was saying and have to get back to it. Oh how I relate to that! She would sometimes get so wrapped up in a story that she'd forget the question. Hmmmm.....I relate to that as well!

There were a lot of facts on the tape as well. Patty questioned her about her siblings and parents and grandparents - and about my great grandfather's as well. So there is documentation along with the stories. That's the blend I always seek. I can hear from her own voice her telling these bits of information that are so important. What a gift!

Maybe next week I'll share a poem that Elsie wrote. I love it!

My great grandmother Elsie and my great grandfather William were married in Great Falls, Montana. As an Air Force brat I had lived twice in Montana - once in Glasgow and once in Great Falls. I have a lot more attachment to Great Falls where I went to high school and later had my children. I've visited the places Elsie mentioned. I've seen the mountains and the prairies she refers to. I've seen the blizzards and the remoteness. It's not like when I dream of Ireland which I've never been fortunate enough to visit. These are places I know well. At the time I lived there I had no idea whatsoever that I had any ties to Montana. I'm sad that I didn't know then but also am very glad that I serendipitously got to live in a place that I have roots in. I'm grateful to have the tape that has my great grandmother sharing her memories of that place in her beautiful Scottish accent. She reaches across time through her voice. She's gone but some of her memories and her voice are still with us.

Sentimental Sunday - Packy the Portland Pachyderm

2010-04-25T20:44:00.000-07:00

My Sentimental Sunday offering may seem a bit unusual to some but I hope it touches a chord within for those who have great zoo memories.

One of my fondest childhood memories was going to the zoo. My grandparents were really great about taking us there and it was such a special time that zoos became a big part of my leisure time no matter where I've lived. Not only did I love & visit zoos - but I swore that someday I'd be like my grandparents and take my own grandchildren to zoos. I knew it would be special times that we'd share that they'd remember after I'm gone. I knew because I remember those childhood visits so well and I smile and thank my grandparents for taking the time to give us those precious moments. My youngest grandchild - Mason Liam - isn't even a year old but he recently made his first zoo trip and we had a wonderful time!

My grandparents were special in many ways. They were a refuge for the children in our extended family who didn't have the Beaver Cleaver childhood experience. Many of us had very difficult lives - but our grandparents helped alleviate that by giving us moments of escape. The zoo was the best!

My beloved Grandma was nicknamed Rosie. There was an elephant at our local zoo in Portland, Oregon named Rosie. We got quite a kick out of that. Still do! My Grandma passed away when I was 12 and I still miss her terribly but seeing elephants always makes me think of her and smile. I saw a documentary on elephants once and cried through a lot of it because it talked about how there would be one main matriarch that led the elephant family. Reminded me of my Grandma.

We had Rosie and we loved Rosie. But then something really special happened. It was magical! The Portland zoo had a new baby elephant that was going to be born. It would be the first elephant born in the Western hemisphere in over 44 years! It was really exciting! The local newspaper "The Oregonian" was first to announce the impending birth. The city caught baby pachyderm fever! There were so many activities to celebrate this special little baby elephant about to be born. The world caught wind of this event and reported on it and when the little one was born on April 14, 1962 an eleven page article appeared in LIFE magazine.

There was a contest to name the baby elephant and the winning name was "Packy". We didn't stop loving Rosie but we took to Packy with a passion that can't be explained! From a baby on we all "adopted" Packy and he was our favorite to visit at the zoo. Packy is now the largest Asian elephant in the United States.

I moved away many years ago and have only made it "home" a few times - but every visit has to include a trip to see our beloved Packy! We who grew up as beloved grandchildren of our beloved grandparents gather - and we remember.

Thank you, Grandma & Grandpa! You are loved & missed!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO PACKY!!!

http://www.oregonzoo.org/Cards/Elephants/packy.htm

Ancestor Approved Award

2010-04-25T20:33:00.000-07:00

I got on here today not to post anything because I really don't have an Easter photo or story to share. I just got on to look at it. Yes, I read my own posts sometimes. I often even cry when I read them. I'm what they call "Emo" - but isn't it natural that my own very personal heartfelt stories would move me to tears? Even though the stories aren't new to me - they're still "my" stories and they're still written from my heart and soul. They're the stories that moved me and I'm honored that they've touched others too.

Leslie Ann at "Ancestors Live Here" http://ancestorslivehere.blogspot.com/ initiated this award. I add my thanks to Bill's!

Bill at "Dr. Bill Tells Ancestor Stories" http://drbilltellsancestorstories.blogspot.com/
was kind enough to pass this award along to me. He's been my strongest supporter - like a champion cheering me on. Thank you, Bill! He also shares my love of the "Liam" name. ;)

It was also awarded to me by Cheryl Fleming http://heritagehappens.blogspot.com/ Thank you, Cheryl! Very much appreciated!

This is a very special award to me. It means a lot on many different levels. I'm thrilled to receive it because I don't think there could be a better compliment (except maybe Descendant Approved) that would make me feel such gratification! Honestly - there have been so many times when I've felt the Irish eyes smiling down on me - felt that the ancestors were approving and leading me! I've blogged about that. Believe if you will - or don't believe - but I've been led by them on this journey. They've held my hand and guided me. I'm very proud to have my blog be "Ancestor Approved"!

As one of the recipients of this award I'm supposed to list ten things that have "surprised, humbled or enlightened me" about any of my ancestors. I'm also supposed to pass this award on to 10 other bloggers who are doing their ancestors proud.

Wow! ONLY TEN?! I've had so many "moments"! Narrowing it down will be a challenge - as will the honesty to "tell it like it is" for some. Not all surprises are happy. Some things that are humbling can be stories that aren't as pretty as others. Enlightened? Since every find is enlightening that's even more difficult. I really can't separate these into the categories. They're all surprises, humbling & enlightening for me.

1. Learning that my GGGrandmother had a marriage no one knew about AND that she had been involved in quite a scandalous incident. Her second husband molested her 9 year old son. Back then the name of the child wasn't protected in the media. That woman is a hero to me. I admire her strength and courage because she didn't sweep that under the rug as so many would have. I refuse to sweep it under the rug either. That wouldn't give her the honor she deserves. She brought the authorities in and had the guy prosecuted. Her son was named in the newspapers and in the arrest and court documents. In a tiny town it would have been quite the talk of tea parties! What guts! She did the right thing and I'm incredibly proud to be descended from her! She went back to using her first married name and only some great research (by someone I paid) uncovered the mystery.

2. Finding out that my grandfather was born in Ireland - County Down, Northern Ireland to be more precise. Wow! I qualify for dual citizenship. I'm Irish every day! Didn't know that for most of my life.

3. Finding out that my Irish Mason family emigrated from Ireland directly to Colorado where I now live - never having known that they were from Ireland - let alone that they had ever lived here. I've come full circle in many ways! I didn't know it when I moved here but I'm back where they started out in America. Awesome!

4. Finding out that my Irish great grandfather John Patrick Mason was a driller on the Gunnison Diversion Tunnel and lived at River Portal (East Portal). That tunnel was a pioneering project & was quite an accomplishment. That place is now part of a wonderful National Park - Black Canyon of the Gunnison. So Proud!

5. Learning that I have at least two ancestors who fought in the Civil War - both on the Union side. (I'd still like to find a Confederate since I lived in Virginia for several years and because I love Gone With the Wind. )

6. Learning that my grandfather really WAS born on a reservation! Along with that one is the incredible feeling of humility and awe I felt when visiting a Native American cemetery in his birthplace - and seeing so many of his surname there. They were the ONLY family in that tiny place who didn't see fit to claim their heritage - or they weren't really Native American like my Grandpa said. Someday maybe I'll know the truth.

7. Finding out my other grandfather drowned 20 years (almost to the day) after my daddy drowned.

8. Learning that I had an ancestor who was among the first group to arrive in Jamestown - which preceded the Mayflower landing at Plymouth Rock. Jamestown was the first successful English colony in America - and I lived right by it for several years. So blessed! Along with that one - finding out that I had other branches that started out right there on that same little peninsula - and that there's a church still standing that my ancestors attended (and sometimes got in trouble for NOT attending). Being blessed to live in places that I later learned were deeply connected to various branches of my family. Serendipity!

9. As my Grandma was orphaned at 12 - the eldest of 6 siblings - tracing her past step by step - and eventually finding the family cemetery and standing on the porch of the home she was living in before she and her siblings were placed in a Masonic Home. I remember the tears and saying "This is for you, Grandma!" She taught me so much about family! It meant everything to her. I knew she would approve of me finding her family roots.

10. Finding my stepmother - learning about her life & about the brother I never knew. A widow at 16 - the day she & my brother came home from the hospital - her strength and courage have touched me deeply! Her sacrifice & generosity in giving me the flag that covered my dad's coffin & the wallet he had on him that fateful day - HUMBLING indeed!

Now to the ten bloggers I'd like to pass this on to for their awesome work in doing their ancestors proud!

1. Bill at http://drbilltellsancestorstories.blogspot.com/

2. Tom at http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2hriwH/destinationaustinfamily.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-newest-article-blogging-your-family.html/r:t

3. Emily at http://writingyourmemories.blogspot.com/

4. Greg at http://www.lifetimememoriesandstories.com/who-are-lifetime-memories-and-stories/

5. Sara Beth at http://www.lessonsfrommyancestors.com/

6. Lisa at http://www.examiner.com/x-9778-Colorado-History-Examiner

7. Colleen at http://cmjoffice.blogspot.com/

8. Lisa at http://small-leavedshamrock.blogspot.com/

9. Fiona at http://newtonlass.blogspot.com/

10. Becky at http://beckyjamison.blogspot.com/

Sentimental Sunday - Spit Shining Shoes

2010-04-25T20:21:00.000-07:00

The "Who Do You Think You Are" episode by NBC this week starring Matthew Broderick inspired what I want to share today. The emphasis on two of his military ancestors and the military records used to trace them. Military records have been important in my own genealogy journey. As a military brat who married into the military and spent 30 years travelling with him - and as he continues to serve with the military in a civilian position - the military is part of me and who I am. I don't want to share about military records though. I want to share about something so mundane - so ordinary - so much a part of everyday life in the military that some would question my sanity in feeling sentimental about it. I want to share about spit shining shoes.

I spent most of my life watching military boots and shoes being polished to a spiffy shine - and spit always seemed to be part of that. (Gee, I wonder if there is DNA still lurking on my husband's old boots & shoes?!) It was an important task. I sometimes helped my husband but both my stepdad and my husband took great pride in polishing & buffing their shoes and boots to a shine. They claimed the only way to do it right was to use spit. I think it was a guy thing - the spitting part. I never quite got the spitting part right. (I admire Rose's spitting talent in the movie Titanic!) I never really thought about that little task of polishing shoes and boots. It was just part of life - like brushing teeth. It's what they did. Men and women in the military are still shining their shoes and boots and there are probably a number of them still using spit.

My cousin was able to get some newspaper articles for me about my dad. One of them has always been my favorite - because when I first saw it I felt a sense of overwhelming familiarity - to the point of laughing out loud - not in humor but in joy. It was a feeling of recognition of this little ritual - like a comradeship passed through the years - the polishing of military shoes and boots. See for yourself....

This picture was one in a series that appeared in the Hillsboro Argus in Hillsboro, Oregon. The caption followed another picture of another young man. Here is the caption:

"Cpl. John Mason shines shoes"....That's my daddy! I have no idea when this article appeared other than it had to be before December 1955. This picture of my daddy shining his shoes still pulls at my heartstrings. Yes, I'm sentimental about spit polishing shoes!

Treasure Chest Thursday - Coming to America - Letter From an Immigrant Ancestor

2010-04-25T20:03:00.000-07:00

You know that I'm Irish...but I'm also Scottish. On both my mom's and my dad's sides I have a whole lot of Highland Scottish blood in me. I'm proud of my Gaelic blood.

I was reminded today of Annie Moore - the 15 year old girl from Ireland who was the first to process through Ellis Island. With St. Patrick's Day a few days away I've been thinking a lot about immigrants who braved leaving their homelands to come to America in search of a better life. America is primarily a nation of immigrants and their descendants. These thoughts led me to thinking of a special lady on my dad's side that left a record of her journey.

My great grandmother on my dad's maternal side was Elsie (nee Lawrence) Brown. I'm sure I'll be sharing more about her through my musings on my Irish Mason family. Today I want to share a treasure Elsie left her descendants. She left a handwritten account of her leaving Scotland to come to America. It was found after her death. It's unfinished. It stops at very incredible moment.

This is my transcription of Elsie's story:

"This isn't a story, its just sort of a description of what can happen in your life.

A dear friend asked me once why didn't I write about my trip to the USA, so I'm going to try my hand at remembering a little about it. A lot of people wonder why so many young folks leave the old country, but many times its just nothing but getting tired of the sameness, and in my own case, I thought I could do better here; I also had a brother in Canada, who wanted me to come out their and only just before I had bought a boat ticket to BC, that another girl asked me to go by New York with her and go out to Montana. What a magic word 'America ' was, and still is, and as for knowing anything about the country, several friends had settled their and scattered all over the East, but to go as far north as Montana was quite an experience. After getting all our things ready to go, which was a job, as we had to send our luggage in advance a week before we left, except for a suitcase everything else went in your trunk, everything had to be labeled c/o the ship we were to sail on, which was the (California) not really a large boat she only carried eight hundred passengers, and poor old ship was sunk by the Germans in the Irish Channel, during World (1), with eighty-two passengers agoard, but that is getting away from my story, we left home June 19th 1909, my home being a small town on the Moray Firth, and if you look on your map of Scotland, you will propably see it marked their or else the town just close to it. (Macduff or Banff) beautiful little towns along the North Sea, with lovely beaches and swimming resorts, and health waters supposed to cure your ills, frankly it tasted like it was of iron, but the summer people believed in it, which added a good income to the towns each summer. From letters I get now, though it has all sorts of factories, and I guess as modern as we are here since the two wars, however here I am getting away from my theme again. We went by train to "Glasgow" , and stayed with a sister that last night, my mother bless her came with us that far. We sailed at 10oclock the 20th June 1909, and, I can tell you when I saw the shore line getting further away, I sure wished I had stayed on shore. The last thing I saw was my dear mother and sister and two little nieces waving as far as I could see, how little I thought then that I would never see many of them again, but if we saw in the future very far, we would never have the courage or daring to even try. We had a rough sea the next day out our first on the ocean, we crossed the (Irish Channel) just about a dusk the afternoon we left, and picked up some Irish passengers. No one was allowed on deck for long the next day on account of the high seas, with the waves washing the decks and a lot of us were seasick, such a miserable thing to be, all you want to do is to lie still and wish that for only a few minutes the boat would be (still - crossed out and then the next written above) even for only a minute stop rocking. The fog was bad that summer and the foghorn blew continually. It took us 9 1/2 days to cross, their were four of us to a cabin, we went 2nd class, 2 ladies were Americans which made them really wonderful to us, the last day we were on the boat, the fog got so bad that it looked as if we would not reach New York in time for the 4th of July, that was what everyone talked about, What if we can't get their by the 4th. To us, coming from another country even if we had learned in our school history about the fourth, it still was just a name to us. We moved very slowly up the channel which is Sandy Hook, I'm not sure of the distance any more it's been so long ago, we could see nothing for the fog, but all around us were ships. the foghorns on every side told us that, Then all at once as if a magician had pulled a wand and touched the fog, it rolled slowly back like a screen, and their on our left, was the most......"

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These are scanned images of copies of Elsie's handwritten story:

Unfortunately, no other portions of this writing were found and we are left to wonder what she saw. However, a friend shared some information with me that I believe answers the mystery. Here's what she said:

"Sandy Hook Channel opens into the Rumson River, depending on the tide the

mouth of the river is either salt or fresh water. This is Monmouth County, NJ-cities are Atlantic Highlands, Redbank, Middletown, etc.

There is a famous lighthouse at Sandy Hook called Sandy Hook Lighthouse , and the old fort of Twin Lights overlooks this area. It was built ca 1874 and the big guns retreat into the mountain.

Sorry I do not know more. As the story was written in 1909, she would have been able to see the LADY as the fog lifted."

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The following is the ship passenger information for Elsie:

Found on Ellis Island Passenger Record:

Name: Elsie Lawrence
Calling or Occupation: Domestic
Ethnicity: Britain, Scotch
Last Permanent Residence: Dunfemline, Scotland
Date of Arrival: 28 Jun 1909
Age on Arrival: 21 y
Gender: F
Marital Status: S
Ship of Travel: California
Port of Departure: Glasgow, Scotland, UK
Name Of Nearest Relative In Country Whence Alien Came:
Father: Mr. Alex Lawrence 7 Crookness Macduff
Final Destination: State: Montana (abbreviated) City or Town: Inverness
Passage Paid By: Self
(Who Going To See & Address - My Paraphrase): Friend Mrs. Milne Inverness Station, Montana
Height: 5'3"
Dark Complexion
Brown Hair
Blue Eyes
Place of Birth: Turiff, Scotland

*********************************************

You know that I have a fondness for those magical serendipity moments. My family was twice stationed at Montana Air Force bases in two separate cities - Glasgow and Great Falls. I went to high school in Great Falls and both of my children were born there. In the surrounding area is a town called Ft. Benton in Choteau County. We visited it several times while living there. Little did I know that I had ties to that area. I learned many years after leaving Montana that my great grandparents William Jefferson Brown and Elsie Lawrence were married in Great Falls and spent years in that area - especially in the Ft. Benton area. If only I had known then! I've been fortunate to have lived in places that I have found family ties to.

I am incredibly blessed to have Elsie's letter and her own personal tale of coming to America. It's another treasure that I owe to the kindness of family members who generously gave to me after making connections through the internet. I once knew only my dad's name. I am now rich with treasures of his family heritage. I can now claim his heritage as my own and feel the pride of being descended from courageous immigrants. Elsie, John Patrick, Anna, my Grandpa Mason.... their blood runs in my veins and in the veins of my descendants.

Tombstone Tuesday - John & Anna Mason

2010-04-25T19:42:00.000-07:00

This is the gravestone marker for my great grandparents John and Anna (Phillips) Mason. They are buried in Cambridge - Salubria Cemetery in Cambridge, Washington County, Idaho. John and Anna left River Portal and moved on to Idaho where they lived out the remainder of their lives.

Treasure Chest Thursday - National Park Brochure

2010-04-25T18:54:00.000-07:00

I'll bet a lot of you have been to a national park at some point in your life. Many of you have probably been to more than one. I've been to parks from coast to coast and I love visiting them. Of course we're sitting in a national park right now! All of us are sitting here by the river enjoying this peaceful setting that happens to be part of Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. You've all seen national park brochures, right? They all look very much alike. I've always hoarded my brochures. I keep them as momentoes. Looking at them takes me back in my mind to when I was there in person. I've loved reading all of the details inside them. They're just pictures and words on paper - but to me they're so much more! Many of you might not think of them as something to classify as "treasure chest" material - but I've got a special one that definitely fits that description for me. (I have to add that not many people might have agreed with me that a vintage post card was worthy of being "Sentimental Sunday" material - but it was for me.) We're all different and we all view things through our own perspectives and experiences. As they (whoever "they" are) say, "One person's trash is another person's treasure". :)

This week I received copies of a national park brochure that's very dear to my heart. I've got some here to pass out to you. Could you take one and pass them on to the next person? Thanks!

Look what they did! They made a brochure that's just for where we're sitting right now! They made one that's separate from the main park brochure. WOW! This is a very special place with a very special history - one worthy of its own brochure. Isn't that awesome? I love this! There's more though. The brochure would mean a lot to me no matter what because I love this place so much. This brochure has something even more special to me though. I look at the cover and I see my great grandfather's face looking back at me! It's incredible! There he is! See him? He's third from the left behind the guy with the clipboard. There he is! My great grandfather John Patrick Mason is on the cover of a national park brochure! Pinch me, please! I'm so thrilled! What a treasure this is! :)

If you remember when we first sat down here on the riverbank I told you about the tunnel entrance picture and I told you about the amazing discovery I made of my great grandfather's connection to the building of the Gunnison Diversion Tunnel and how my family had lived here at River Portal. I wrote those stories down and included the pictures so if you've forgotten you can look back and refresh your memories. If you look back you'll see the picture that this image was taken from. You'll also see the picture of the family that was taken when they lived here at River Portal. Both of those pictures have been hanging on my wall for years prior to discovering their connection to River Portal. The whole discovery was sheer serendipity!

As much as I love words I still can't find the right ones to express how I feel about seeing my great grandfather's face on the cover of a national park brochure. I feel proud and honored and very deeply moved. I'm in awe that the park chose that particular picture from countless photos they had of the entrance. They chose it for this brochure long before they knew of me, my family's connection or the existence of any individual family having a copy of this photo. They were as drawn to the photo as I am.

The brochures were made at a time when the park was celebrating the 100th anniversary of the dedication of the tunnel - 2009. It was also the 10th anniversary of Black Canyon of the Gunnison becoming a national park. This place is now referred to as "East Portal" because it was the east portal to the building of the tunnel. There was a west portal at a small town named Lujane. I've continued to refer to it as "River Portal" because of the listing of it by that name on the 1910 census.

I'm indebted to Supervisory Park Ranger Paul Zaenger for sharing these brochures and for all he and his many helpers did to commemorate the anniversary. I hope that one of these days we might get him to come and visit us here on the river bank and share some of his stories. Trust me - you'll love his storytelling!

Sentimental Sunday - A Vintage Valentine's Present

2010-04-25T18:39:00.000-07:00

Sunday is here again and you're all still sitting here with me! I love being able to sit here by the river with you all and share every day ... but as you know I prefer Sundays.

Today I'm not going far from River Portal with my story. I'm going to share something that helps tell the story - beyond words. So sit back and relax. I've got something to pass around for you all to look at.

Last Sunday I mentioned that I had planned to share a different story - about this year's Valentine's Day present from my husband but that the present hadn't arrived in time to share it. It's here now though and I can share it. Yippee! It's not what you'd expect. It's definitely unusual for a Valentine's Day present - but it's something that's very close to my heart - something I feel very sentimental about.

My husband usually asks me for ideas about gifts. When he asked me this year what I wanted for Valentine's Day I had only one suggestion - only one wish. I think he would have thought I was certifiably insane if I hadn't been telling him at least once a day about something special I'd found on Ebay. He might not agree with me wanting something like that but he realized I wasn't joking about wanting it. Are you curious yet? Okay...I'll stop the suspense.

I was Googling "River Portal" and happened upon something that flabbergasted me - a vintage postcard for sale on Ebay. It's a photo postcard of River Portal - as it was back in the day - back in the day when my Mason family lived there. Wow! The postcard has the postage on it and the postmark - August of 1912. In two years it will be one hundred years old! There is writing on it as well. It's just a quick note - not much said - but it didn't take long to identify who wrote it and who received it. It was written by Alford Anderson who lived in Central City, Colorado in 1910 and was listed as the "General Manager of Mines". It was written to another man named Robert Johnson who was also living in Central City in 1910. He was an engineer on a stationary engine. They're not related to me - but that's okay. I feel like all of these people who lived at, worked at, or even just visited River Portal are part of a big extended family that I'm proud to be a descendant of.

My husband buying that postcard for me may not have been chocolates or roses or diamonds - but it's a great expression of his love for me. He has no interest in genealogy - not even his own - (although his is more interesting than mine in some ways). He has no interest in facts and figures and old documents. However, for all these years that I've been researching my family and the families of others - he has supported me and taken me to see places firsthand, walked cemeteries with me all over the country and been a companion on my journey. He has loved me enough to give me those gifts as well - not tangible - but priceless.

I've talked a lot about serendipity and the magic of moments where a discovery is made that is just not possible to explain. This postcard is yet another one of those. What were the chances of me finding a photo postcard nearly a century old of River Portal? It no longer exists. It only existed for a brief few years. It's so far down at the bottom of a gorge that not many would have made the trip. I think I was meant to have this postcard. I think I was meant to find it - even on Ebay. Who would love it as much as I do? Who would understand its value?

Please pass this around and enjoy it. I'm glad I can finally share with you what River Portal looked like when the Gunnison Diversion Tunnel was being built.

Thank you for sharing time again with me on this Sentimental Sunday.

Sentimental Sunday - Dream Dollhouse

2010-04-25T18:21:00.000-07:00

Let's get comfy and relax and I'll share a special Sentimental Sunday story with you. How can we not enjoy Sentimental Sunday when it falls on Valentine's Day!? Awesome!

To be honest I had planned to share a different story with you today. I got a wonderful Valentine's Day present this year - very unusual - and its story relates to here - right where we're sitting by this beautiful river. I love that we have this background "music" from nature. Adds to the ambience of the storytelling and the listening of the stories, don't you think?

But back to this special gift - unfortunately the best laid plans can somehow fall through and the gift didn't arrive in time for me to share it with you. So instead I'm going to share the story of a different Valentine's Day gift - one that brought challenges, hard work and then satisfaction and immense joy. You'll have to wait until next week for the story of this year's special gift. ;)

A few years ago my husband gave me a large dollhouse kit for Valentine's Day. Mind you - I had hinted strongly that I wanted one. When I was young I had a wonderful dollhouse. It was one of the few toys I had and I loved it dearly. I've never quite grown up completely and the little girl in me wanted another dollhouse - but this time I wanted it to be a special one that I could pass on to a grandchild. Maybe it would become a lasting family treasure. I had big dreams.

When I opened the box the kit came in my dream suddenly crashed. I was completely overwhelmed by the magnitude of the project - and I was totally intimidated by it. There were zillions of pieces - all gray - and none of them were marked as to what they were. I have my craft talents - but they're limited. I even reasoned that being the daughter of a carpenter might mean my genes had capabilities that would help me through. However at that initial moment the panic overcame me and I shoved all the pieces back into the box and let it sit for a few days. I needed to regroup my senses.

The second time I opened the box the shock wasn't as great and I determined that I would do this or die trying. I spent the entire day measuring every piece - no matter how tiny - by the length, width and depth. It was the only way to match a piece to the long list of pieces - which thankfully included measurements. I used pieces of masking tape and a marker to label each piece.

I did research. I found tips. I followed many of them. I read the instructions. I followed them precisely. I tried to think of the project in small pieces - instead of the entire overall overwhelming big picture. I committed to do it. I worked almost all day every day I could for months. I painted each and every piece several times. I found wallpaper patterns and printed them out myself on card stock. I wallpapered, varnished floors, added carpet, tile and trims. I even got adventurous and cut a hole for an octagon window that wasn't part of the kit or plan. I stained roof tiles. Even now when I think about the work and the details and the intricacy I shudder and can't believe I really did it!

I had a great helper along the way - Ralph the Cat - aka The Baby - aka The Cutie Boy. I say he helped me but a mischievous kitty can really complicate things. He was definitely a cutie boy though! See this picture of him in the upstairs of the house as it was being assembled?

Isn't he just adorable?! A pain the rear at times, but adorable!

Here's another picture of him when he was on the lowest floor peeking out the front door!

Furnishing the house and adding little special touches was the most fun. It seemed like it took forever to get to that point. As my dream dollhouse I wanted it to reflect my own particular tastes. Here's a picture of the front of the house when it was finished. This is picture is of how it looks when decorated for Christmas.

Others also helped me with the house - making rugs, curtains, bedspreads - even sheets!

If you'd like to see more pictures (and there are many) here are some albums that you can look at. Enjoy!

http://www.pbase.com/irishmason/dollhouse

There is one very special touch I added that came completely from my heart. It was the most precious addition to the house for me. Like many people my childhood wasn't a very pleasant one at times. Not everyone had a sanctuary to escape to as I did. It seemed far from drama, chaos and turmoil - a place where kids were safe, loved and protected. It was the home of my maternal grandparents. They defined love for me in many ways and continue to do that long after they have passed on. I doubt if there is any member of my extended family who enjoyed that sanctuary who didn't have the address firmly fixed in their memory. To this day the address comes quickly to mind for all of us. So I added the numbers that represented that address to the front of the house by the door. It's just a little thing - but no part of this house has more sentiment for me than that number. I look at it and always smile and think warmly of the people who gave love so freely and who influenced my life so deeply. How I miss them!

The house no longer exists. The memories will last forever though.

I'd like to share a little about my maternal grandma. She was the eldest of six siblings who were orphaned when she was 12. Her mother died in childbirth and a few months later her father was killed in a tragic accident (scalded to death) while clearing train tracks of the carnage of a train wreck. At first she tried to take care of the family by herself with her grandparents living next door. Of course that couldn't work and didn't. The family placed the children into a Masonic home where they lived to adulthood.

My grandma was the first to leave the home and she arranged for each of her siblings to follow her - to a state far away from that home. To my beloved grandma family was everything - and that's how she lived her life and how she taught us. I felt sad for her that she had lost so much so young. I was thankful for every moment spent with her and for all the love she gave to all around her - including me. She died when I was 12 and I still mourn her. I cherish her memory. I try to be the kind of grandma to my grandchildren that she was to me and to her other grandchildren. She was a wonderful role model.

When I started doing genealogy two people influenced my quest more than any others - my daddy and my grandma. Each meant starting from scratch and working backwards step by step. Each took years. Each presented challenges that at times seemed insurmountable. I'm proud of all I've been able to accomplish in documenting and fleshing out both of their lives and those of the extended families. I was even able to make several visits to her hometown and see the family graves and places they lived. I even stood on the porch of the house she lived in when she was orphaned. I remember saying out loud with tears streaming down my face, "This is for you, Grandma!"

My dream dollhouse represents a lot about me but also a lot about my grandma. It's a large Victorian house - with a porch to sit on and while the time away. It's big enough to fill with lots of people - as she did her home. It's a house that I can envision a large happy family living in. It's a refuge and a sanctuary and it's filled with love.

I wish I had the ability to buy the land here at River Portal and to build a large house with a porch that I could fill with my family and with all of our love and joy. It would be a dream come true. Since I can't do that - I have my little dream dollhouse and I can look at it and have my mind take me far away. It usually takes me to a place long ago back when I was a child and knew the wonder of my grandparents and their special home.

Sentimental Sunday - NOT the "Wicked" Stepmother

2010-04-25T17:54:00.000-07:00

I want to muse a little about my Mason meanderings. Sundays are great days for quiet reflecting and there's someone special I'd like to tell you about.

There have been fairy tales - and tales in real life - of evil, wicked stepmothers. They hate the stepchildren and do horrid things to them. They're vile and vicious and generally just plain bad people. That does NOT describe MY stepmother! She's awesome and amazing! Don't believe me? Listen on......

She was only 16 years old when she married my daddy. Sixteen - but wise beyond her years - an "old soul". She'd lived a very difficult life. My daddy had lived a charmed life in many ways but also tinged with sorrow. He'd buried a son at only 3 months and he was divorced with two young children. Divorce was difficult for him. His Roman Catholic faith had a strong influence on him. He was also a man who kept his commitments and was dedicated to his children. It wasn't easy for him to have his marriage end. She was his angel. She was sweet and sensitive. She was a good woman with a lot of stability and common sense and I believe they needed each other - healed each other. I know they loved each other. They loved each other very , very much.

Think back to when you were 16. The future lies before you...full of hope and dreams! You're literally still a child but have a foot in the adult world as well. When you're sixteen no matter how much suffering you've witnessed you still have hope and you still believe in the possibility of "happily ever after". It's a magical carrot dangled out there - the future unfolding with promise.

All of this was there for her. She could see the future and she had hopes and dreams - seemingly endless possibilities for happiness. That would all come to an abrupt end.

They had a son. It was a difficult birth and she was weak and in need of a lot of recuperation. He took her and their son home from the hospital. Then he went to work. Unfortunately the weather intervened and the work job was cancelled. He and his buddy decided to make a quick duck hunting excursion on a flooded inlet of the Tualitin River. That single decision - one we'll never fully understand - changed many lives. My daddy was a sharpshooter - nationally recognized. He was the president of the rifle club at his high school. (Imagine that?! A RIFLE club at SCHOOL?!) He loved to hunt. He knew his wife needed rest. I can think of a lot of things that may have gone through his mind that fateful day. The choice he made was tragic. The boat overturned. He made it to shore, then realized his buddy needed help. His shoes and some items were found on the shore so we know that he made it to safety. He wasn't the type of guy to leave his buddy. That would be unthinkable. So he went back to save his buddy and he got caught on barbed wire hidden under the water and both men drowned. It took three days to find their bodies. His brother was in the boat that found him.

For three days she waited in terror. She was dazed and in shock. She moved through life as though in a trance. She had a new baby and she had to be strong. Then they found his body and the worst was confirmed. She was sixteen years old and her dreams and hopes and "happily ever after" died in one moment on one sad day. She had to bury her husband. She buried more than his body. Part of her is buried with him. Still.

She kept the flag that covered his coffin. She kept his wallet. She kept and wears a religious necklace that he wore. She wears it still after more than 50 years. She wears something else as well - the Mason name. She later remarried but she refused to give up the Mason name. Her husband respected her wishes. It was unusual in those days for a woman to do something like that. She's an unusual woman.

My brother who found the obituary also found the birth announcement for their son. I have a brother I've not yet met. I had his name and eventually the internet helped me to trace him. (Thank goodness his name was a bit uncommon!) I wrote him a letter. What an awkward letter that was! How do you write someone and say "Hi! I'm your sister!" It's even harder if you're not 100% positive that you have the right person. He could have ignored the letter and thrown it away. He didn't. His mom - my stepmom - had known me as a child. She was excited and wanted to respond immediately. He made her wait until he had talked to me himself and made sure I wasn't a complete nutcase. LOL What a great son! He's level headed and steady and protects his mom. I love that! Once we were cleared to communicate [ ;) ] we did - and we still do.

She sent me the flag and the wallet and those are treasures she and I share a commitment to and a love for that's unsurpassed. She sent me those without even having seen me again in person. She gave a gift of love. Wicked stepmother? NOT!!! She has been loving and caring and sensitive and opened her arms to my entire immediate family.

She came to meet us. She flew to another state to a group of strangers she'd come to call family - and we welcomed her as family. We all were there to meet her. She got to meet my daughter and my granddaughter. We made magical memories together for two weeks. We trekked all over the place - so many places to see and things to do - and time to get to know each other in person. Wonderful! It's hard to pick one special memory but the one in my mind today is having high tea at the Brown Palace Hotel in Denver. Are you familiar with it? Very famous! For me it was like something out of a fairy tale. We were presented with corsages and the pianist played "Somewhere Out There" from "An American Tale" and dedicated it to us. It was so beautiful that it brings tears to me every time I think about it. Excuse me for a second. I have to wipe my eyes. Good thing I carry tissues with me!

I'll never know what life would have been like if my daddy had lived. I'll never know what it would have been like to grow up with my Mason extended family or my stepmom or my other brother. I believe that fate - both bad and good - has played an incredible role in my life. Serendipity - and someone above watching over - have helped me on an incredible journey. I'm very blessed. I have two mothers. I have my own mom and I have my Mama Maggi Mason. How lucky I am! Ooops....time for tissues again! I get pretty sentimental about this special lady! Thank you for letting me share her with you.

The Children of John Patrick & Anna (Phillips) Mason

2010-04-25T17:42:00.000-07:00

It's so beautiful and peaceful sitting here by the river! I could do this for hours and hours! Oh yes...that's funny...I HAVE done this for hours! When I sat down here to share my stories I thought that you might all get bored and leave. I'm so glad you didn't! If we need sleep breaks there's a little campground over there. You can't see it very well from here. I'm sure it will accomodate us. Aren't you glad you brought your camping and fishing gear?

Our little group has grown. I'm really thrilled to welcome my cousin John William Mason! I told you about him. Remember? It's taken him a little bit to get here but he's brought his two little ones with him. My goodness...they've grown so much! The years pass so quickly! John loves being out in nature too and he loves to bring his son John Jr. and his daughter Jamie Jo on his treks. It's really fitting to have the children here with us. They're the future. We pass the past on to them. It's their heritage.

I want to tell you about the children of John and Anna Mason. Four of their children lived here at River Portal. Three were born here. One died here. I shared this picture before but I'd like to share it again. (See above - main picture.) This is the only picture we have of the family when they lived at River Portal. That's my great grandmother Anna standing there looking so elegant with her hand resting on the back of my great grandfather John Patrick Mason. My grandfather John Joseph Mason is standing there in a cute little hat. My great aunt Theresa is standing on the other side next to her daddy. She's got a hat on that I wouldn't necessarily call cute. Maybe interesting - but not cute. It's big. I'll give it that. Maybe that was the fashion of the day. On my great grandpa's lap is little James.

The 1910 census for River Portal shows the family at household #17. John is listed as "John G." instead of "John P." He's 30 years old; born in Ireland; immigrated in 1905; has his naturalization application pending; and is a driller on the tunnel. Anna is also 30 years old; born in Ireland; immigrated in 1906. The census shows that John and Anna had been married 8 years. My grandpa is listed as 5 years old; born in Ireland; immigrated in 1906. Theresa is listed as being 3 years old and born in Colorado. James is listed as 1 yr. 3 mos. and born in Colorado. (Church records from Montrose show he was baptized at River Portal. Daniel is listed as being 2 months old. He died the same year.

In 1912 daughter Mary joined the family in Provo, Utah. The family had left River Portal that year and were on their way to Idaho. There were likely family members already in Utah as many extended family members had immigrated to America and spread all over the country - from coast to coast. Many were miners - as John Patrick had been before he came to America and after.

Thomas joined the family in 1914. Anna came along in 1916. Finally Michael was born in 1920. These three were all born in Cambridge, Idaho.

Where did they end up?

John Joseph Mason married Gladys Electa Brown. Here's a picture of them together. This other picture of my grandpa reminds me of how we Masons love to sit just about anywhere out in nature. The picture of him fishing is sad now but it reminds me that he loved fishing. He died in 1975 in Tillamook, Oregon. He drowned while fishing in the Trask River.

Theresa married at least twice. One was to an unknown Collins. The other marriage was to Francis Paul Favre. Theresa died in 2001 in my hometown of Portland, Oregon.

James died in 1994 in Weiser, Idaho.

Daniel died in 1910 at River Portal in Montrose County, Colorado.

Mary married Roy C. Blakley. She died in 1989 in Weiser, Idaho.

Thomas died in 2001 (shortly after helping my cousin John get those pictures and letters to me). He also died in my hometown of Portland, Oregon.

Anna married John Henry Higgins. They had a tragic ending. Anna and John and one of their sons - Paul - were all killed in a house fire in 1976.

Michael married Betty Jo Howland and died in 2002 in Baker City, Oregon.

These are the eight children of John Patrick and Anna (Phillips) Mason. They live on through their many descendants. I take comfort in knowing that John Patrick and Anna only knew the grief of losing Daniel. They didn't live to know of the tragic deaths of their son John Joseph or their daughter Anna (Mason) Higgins & grandson Paul Higgins. I believe their faith would have carried them through anything though. They were very strong people. I'm proud to be one of their many descendants.

Treasure Chest Thursday - Letters From Anna

2010-04-25T16:40:00.000-07:00

I mentioned my first cousin John William Mason - my daddy's namesake - and how he wonderfully & serendipitously found me on the internet and then set himself on a mission to help me obtain things that would help piece together the story of my daddy's life - and the rest of the extended family.

There was one especially important person who helped John. His name was Thomas Mason. Oddly enough that's my son's name! Long story and I'll spare you that one. I just think it's pretty cool! This elder Thomas Mason was a son of John Patrick and Anna Mason. Thomas was born in 1914 in Cambridge, Idaho. That's where John Patrick and Anna ended up.

In 1912 the family packed up and moved on – this time to Cambridge, Idaho. Yet again they would live near a gorge and near water – Hells Canyon of the Snake River. Here they lived out the remainder of their lives. John Patrick turned to farming instead of mining. Their family continued to grow. They had eight children that we know of (including young Daniel who was born and died at River Portal). John Patrick died of tuberculosis in 1931 at the age of 52. Anna lived on until December of 1944 when she died at the age of 67. Their seven children survived them. Some of the children remained in Idaho and others moved on to other places. My grandfather John Joseph moved to Oregon where I was born. Letters written by Anna to her son Thomas late in her life reveal that life was not easy for her at that time. The letters are touching insights into the normal day to day happenings in her life – glimpses of who she was – especially as a mother - and glimpses of the faith she held so dear.

Thomas Mason - son of John Patrick and Anna - was very much involved in helping Cousin John with his mission. The bottom image above is of Thomas and his mother Anna. Thomas had John come over and go through every one of his many albums to find pictures of my daddy. He also shared something very precious - letters that his mother Anna had written to him. These few letters written in her own hand also had the original envelopes and stamps. That adds so much in interest! John made copies of the letters and shared them with me. Because of Thomas we have these special treasures from Anna. Her voice speaks through the ages through her words.

Thomas died shortly after he passed these things on to John. I may never have had the opportunity to see these letters or to have those oh so important pictures Thomas shared! A moment could have passed and these treasures could have been lost forever.

Thank You, Thomas Mason! God Bless You Always! Rest In Peace With The Ancestors!

Ireland to River Portal

2010-04-25T16:29:00.000-07:00

I admire the courage of all those who left their homes and sailed across the ocean to a new country. Brave souls! Having spent so many years in the military lifestyle I can relate to picking up and moving on and starting over - but that's nothing compared to what our ancestors went through. We have better modes of transportation and communication. They had so little and yet had so much more to endure!

When John Patrick Mason left Ireland to come to America in 1905 he sailed on the S.S. Caledonia and he stated that he was heading to his cousin John Callaghan in Pueblo, Colorado. That's just about an hour south of me. (Odd that we both migrated in our own ways to Colorado.) Anna (Phillips) Mason came in 1906 on the S.S. Haverford with her 1 yr. old son - my grandfather John Joseph Mason. It must have been difficult for the young family to be apart for that year. My grandfather had suddenly become too ill to travel forcing Anna to remain behind with him. What were their dreams? Their hopes? Their fears? Their plans? I wish I could chat with them and ask them those questions...and so many more!

It didn't take John and Anna long to move on from Pueblo to Montrose County, Colorado. 1910 finds them in River Portal with three additional children: Theresa was born in March of 1907; James was born in January of 1909 and Daniel was born early in 1910. He died the same year. Theresa, James and Daniel are presumed to have been born in River Portal and Daniel to also be buried there.

The 1910 census for River Portal is only 3 pages long. It contains 29 households with just under 140 inhabitants. John and Anna are listed as household #17. I haven't yet found any family connection between them and the other people who dared to live at the bottom of this gorge. Life here was very difficult. Can you imagine going up and down a 17% grade road with horses and carts? Or imagine what it must have been like in the middle of winter. Makes me shiver to think about! The people who lived here were strong and perservering.

River Portal was a "company town" - built to support the work of the tunnel. Look around you...there's really not much here now. Can you imagine that it once had a power plant and a school and a dining hall? Everything needed to support the tunnel work and the workers was right here. Some of the people residing here were families. Others were individuals here for the work living in boarding house environments. To most people today they are just faces in pictures preserved over the years - faces that don't tell who they really were. I hope to help tell some of their stories. They're an interesting group. Who were they? Where did they go?

Sentimental Sunday - Cousin Connection

2010-04-25T16:20:00.000-07:00

Sentimental Sunday seems like a good time to share another story of serendipity. I think most, if not all, of us who do genealogy / family history research have our own stories to tell of those moments when something breaks through the brick wall or we find something extraordinary.

I mentioned that I had a very difficult time tracing my daddy's roots. For those of you just joining us here on the riverbank - I didn't have any information to begin my journey with - just a name. I had no pictures. Nothing. When one of my brothers found my daddy's obituary it gave me a starting point. I started gathering the paperwork - one step at a time. Death certificate, Birth certificate, and on and on. I had known that the best place to start on the journey is with what you know so I had to take those steps. What else did I know? I couldn't make any assumptions. Those don't tell the real story. I wanted facts. But do facts really tell the whole story either? It's so much better to be able to flesh out the facts.

I had my information online. I didn't really think anyone would find it and help me - but I hoped.

One day I received an email that changed my life. (Bless the internet!) The email began "My name is John William Mason." I nearly fainted. That was my daddy's name! Needless to say, he had my attention! The email continued to explain that he was the son of my daddy's brother and that he had been named after my daddy. He was my first cousin! His dad had been in the boat when my daddy's body was found. This was incredible for me! An actual living family member! I'd never known my daddy's family - at least not in the years I can remember. I was only two when he drowned. The family had shut out his children completely. Now out of the blue - all these decades later one of the family members was reaching out to me and he carried my daddy's name! (So does his son!) This single email changed my life in so many ways!

It's hard not to feel sentimental about John. He's a special man. John is one of those people who is very sensitive. He set about gathering everything he could to share with me. He even got his dad & mom involved and one of my dad's uncles. John was on a mission! He was able to gather pictures that documented my dad's life - from a baby on through a picture developed two months after my dad drowned. He got military records. He got high school annual pictures and newspaper articles from old newspapers. I have the picture of the group of miners at the tunnel entrance and the picture of John Patrick and Anna and my grandpa at River Portal because of my cousin John. The family didn't know where the pictures had been taken. I'm glad I was able to give them a gift back by being able to discover River Portal.

Never underestimate the power of the internet to break through brick walls and to bring you discoveries beyond your wildest dreams. We sit here on this riverbank and I can share these stories with you because of the internet and because of a young man who dared to reach out to a cousin he'd never met. There's no price I can put on the gifts he gave me!

Surname Saturday - Mason - Ireland to America

2010-04-25T15:46:00.000-07:00

They were born on the Emerald Isle – near the Silent Valley – “where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea” as the song says. County Down, Northern Ireland had been the home of their families for generations. Water was a big part of their lives. They were born near it, raised around it, travelled on it, lived closed to it all their lives and for a few years worked on a pioneer project helping to harness it – through the Gunnison Diversion Tunnel at East Portal (River Portal) in Montrose, Colorado.

They were a young couple married only a few years with a toddler son when they decided to sail away to a new country – leaving their homeland behind forever. He came first – on the S.S. Caledonia in 1905. Their plans to travel together were changed when their young son got sick and couldn’t travel so the wife and child remained behind. The husband travelled directly to Pueblo, Colorado and got a job at the steel mill there where he continued to work for nearly a year until his young wife and son were able to join him. They arrived in 1906 – on the S.S. Haverford. They were John Patrick and Anna (Phillips) Mason and their son John Joseph Mason. They were my great grandparents and my grandfather.

They heard of work in Montrose and they packed up and headed there. John was a miner and his skills might be put to use on the new tunnel being built there. The 5.8 miles tunnel would divert the Gunnison River to help bring badly needed water to the Uncompahgre Valley. It was a mammoth task. It required drilling through solid rock in a remote area at the bottom of the Black Canyon. The road down to the bottom of the gorge was steep and difficult to traverse. Work on the tunnel was treacherous. Lives were lost in the process.

John Patrick became a driller on the tunnel. I often wonder if he was intrigued by the thought of turning brown land into green. I wonder what he thought of his new home in Colorado. Did he miss the Emerald Isle and the green of his faraway birthland? Did he find the lack of water and the resulting brown land surrounding him to be less than appealing? I wonder if he felt exhilarated by the challenge of changing the landscape and the quality of life. I know he worked to provide sustenance for his family but turning brown land into green must have been a satisfying bonus.

John Patrick and Anna lived at River Portal – a small community built at the base of the gorge to provide the necessary facilities for the work being done at the tunnel. John Patrick was an industrious man – hard working and dedicated. He and Anna were devout Roman Catholics and they carried their faith and their Irish heritage with them wherever they went. They were strong people – not easily discouraged and not prone to giving up in hard times. While they lived at River Portal their family expanded. My grandfather John Joseph was joined by three siblings – Theresa in 1907, James in 1909 and Daniel in 1910. Daniel died as young child and it’s believed that he died there at River Portal. The family most likely arrived in River Portal in 1906. Theresa was born in March of 1907. It’s difficult to imagine that the family travelled down the gorge in the winter months with Anna being pregnant. Church records from that area show the baptism of James at River Portal. Documentation has the family living there until 1912. Although the official dedication of the tunnel was in 1909 there was still work to be done to fully complete the project so some of the workers remained. John Patrick was one of those.

I never dreamed when I moved to Colorado that I would find that I had come full-circle. I was back to where my Irish Mason family had started out in America. I never dreamed that I would find a connection between my Irish Mason family and the Gunnison Diversion Tunnel. I'm still in awe that I made that discovery at the time of Mason Liam's birth.

Later I'll share how I came to find my Mason roots because it's a story of many miracles. I came to have pictures I never thought I'd have. The picture of the tunnel is one of those. I also have a picture of the family that we now know was taken at River Portal. Amazing! Here it is. You can pass it around. I love this picture! The service berries still grow here at East Portal. See them over there? One hundred years later and they still survive! As we sit here on the bank of the Gunnison River at the bottom of this deep gorge - I think back to what their life must have been like then. Many things to muse about as I share my Mason heritage.

Treasure Chest Thursday - My Daddy's Wallet

2010-04-24T21:08:00.000-07:00

I love to tell people about the flag. What my stepmom did is so generous and selfless and touched me so deeply! She didn't stop with the flag though. She also gave me something that's a little harder for me to talk about. It's so personal - so close to my heart - so intimate - that it's hard to fight the tears when I try to tell about it. She gave me the wallet my daddy had on him when he drowned. The flag covered his coffin but the wallet was something that he had on him at that tragic moment. Have you ever looked into your dad's wallet? Maybe you should ask him if you can if you are lucky enough to still have your dad alive and available. It might be interesting to see what he has in there. For me the wallet told a story pieced together with little pieces of paper and various little items he kept in it.

The wallet has been kept as it was on that sad day. Opening it was truly opening a treasure chest. I had no idea what I would discover. My daddy kept things. I must have inherited his hoarding gene. The papers inside are water streaked but amazingly still in incredibly good shape - even after more than half a century. Everything is legible.

There is a wide assortment of identification cards: his driver's license; his carpenters' union card; his National Guard card; his liquor license; his insurance cards and more. There were a couple of pay stubs and receipts of having paid child support. There was even the receipt from paying the hospital when he took his young wife and new baby son home - the same day he drowned. All of these things were glimpses into his life. I knew how much each of these items meant to him.

There were some coins - pocket change he kept in his wallet. It was really interesting to look at the dates on them. He had a cute toy-like horseshoe puzzle that was his good luck charm. He also had a religious necklace. Like his Irish ancestors before him he was a devout Roman Catholic. That necklace was special to him.

His wallet was very much like an analogy of his life. If I hadn't known these things about him before seeing the wallet I would still have been able to tell his biography through the items in the wallet. There were no pictures though. He kept images in his heart and mind.

My daddy drowned a hero. We don't know why he made the choices he made that day. My stepmom needed rest. He was supposed to go on a carpenter job. The weather intervened and he and his buddy decided to do some quick duck hunting on a flooded overflow of the Tualitin River. The boat overturned. We know that my daddy made it to the shore because he left his shoes and jacket there. He went back in to try to save his buddy. Instead they both drowned. My daddy got caught on barbed wire under the water and it took three days to find his body. His brother was in the boat that found him.

I was many years into adulthood before I knew anything about my daddy. I had no birth or death dates. I had no pictures. I had nothing really. Now I have a treasure trove. I'll tell you about that journey of finding my daddy and all that I gained along the way - including my stepmom and my brother - as my stories continue. Like a tapestry the stories are all threads woven together - including River Portal.

Masons love water. It's in our blood. For better or worse we still love water. So as we sit here next to the Gunnison River and look at this beautiful setting and listen to the sound of the water flowing by - pause and think about the treasures in your life - particularly the people. Cherish each one. I sit here and say a prayer of gratitude for my daddy, for my stepmom, for my journey and all the discoveries I've made. I look at the river and know how it was impacted by my great grandfather and I know how much rivers impacted his son and grandson. I know how much I've been impacted as well. Someday I'll bring Mason here to see where his ancestor helped to change the flow of a river. And I'll tell him about my daddy.

A Very Precious Flag - A Very Precious Gift - A Very Precious Sacrifice

2010-04-24T20:10:00.000-07:00

This story appeared in the Colorado Springs Gazette. I'm leaving out the author's name due to my desire to maintain some slight level of privacy. It was authored by Irish Mason. :) Me.

"Young widow lets go of flag but not love

There was a 21 gun salute.

The flag was lifted from the coffin, folded and placed in her arms. She was 16.

She had married him in March and given birth to their son in December. Six days later she had become a widow.

I picture her - so young, stunned with grief and shock. He had brought her and their baby home from the hospital the day he drowned. She was beside herself with grief but had to be strong; she had a child to raise. She was a child herself.

He was 26, in the Army National Guard. He was proud of his service, and he excelled. He was a natural leader and popular. He lit up a room with his grin. He loved to fish, hunt and race cars.

His life had not been without heartbreak. He had been married before. He had three children with his first wife: a son, a daughter and another son who died after a few short months.

We moved away and lost all contact with the teenage mom. Then came the Internet. We found one another and I've grown to love this special woman.

She had only been 16 but she had loved her husband completely. She later remarried, but she never stopped loving the man she'd lost. She held onto that flag, drawing comfort and strength from it through the years. She cherished it in a way that few could fully understand.

Then she gave it to me.

His daughter.

I held my daddy's flag to my chest and cried like a baby. It is a precious gift! I knew then as I know now - that the greater gift was in the giving. I knew what it cost her to give it to me, the sacrifice she made. It isn't just a flag.

This summer I'll see my stepmother - my "Mama Maggi" - for the first time in over 50 years. What a joyous reunion it will be! She'll meet my daughter and my daughter's daughter. My daddy will be smiling."

Thee John Mason Men & Three Rivers

2010-04-24T15:51:00.000-07:00

Remember I told you that Masons love water? It's in our blood. We really love it! Me though - I tend to watch it _ look at it, listen to it, stick my toes in it, float leaf boats on it.... I don't go in it much though. I guess I feel a wee bit cursed and can't seem to shake that feeling.

My Mason family story has to include the story of three men named John Mason and three different rivers and how those men and their families were impacted by the rivers. In one case one of these men impacted the river more than the river impacted him. He was the lucky one.

My great grandfather - John Patrick Mason - was a driller on the tunnel that helped to divert the Gunnison River. As I see it he helped to tame and control a river. Sadly others who followed became victims of rivers.

John Patrick Mason - born in Kilkeel, County Down, Northern Ireland - didn't live to know that his son & his grandson would become victims of rivers in two separate tragic accidents.

My grandfather John Joseph Mason - also born in Kilkeel, County Down, Northern Ireland - drowned in the Trask River in Oregon 34 years ago this month - in December of 1975. He was doing something he loved very much - fishing. His wasn't the first sad river related accident to strike our family though. John Joseph Mason drowned 20 years almost to the day after his son drowned.

My daddy John William Mason drowned 54 years ago this month. He drowned in an inlet / overflow of the Tualitin River in Oregon - in December of 1955. I was two years old. I don't remember my daddy - but as I once heard "The heart remembers what the mind forgets".

I'm not sure what happened with my daddy's family but I believe that their grief overcame them and they made choices that would have lasting impacts on the lives of their son's children. They cut off all family ties. They shut down all communications. They shut out their own grandchildren. It's a mystery to me.

I didn't know my daddy's family. My mother had an unusual reaction as well. She couldn't / wouldn't talk much about him. I had his name and the fact that he'd drowned. I also knew about his other wife and son.

My parents had divorced and each had remarried and each had another child with their new spouses at the time of my daddy's death. I had known my stepmom as a child until all communication was cut off from her as well. I don't have any memories of her as a child either. I grew up always being fascinated with my daddy - always wanting to know about him. I wanted to know anything and everything. I had nothing but brick walls & obstacles though. To make it even more difficult my mom married into the Air Force and we left our home state behind. That began many years of travelling around the country living in various locations. I married into the Air Force as well and the travels continued. I was removed from my Mason roots in all ways.

At one point one of my brothers from another stepfather came across my dad's obituary. He passed it on to me. I now had a date of death. I sent for the death certificate. Then the birth certificate. Genealogists will understand. I had to go step by step by step to trace my Mason roots. I have many more stories about that journey as well!

The world is getting to be a smaller and smaller place...especially because of the internet. Oh my! The amazing things that the internet has brought my way in my quest are astounding! Let me share one of my favorite stories. I hope it will touch you.

Documenting A Driller

2010-04-24T15:02:00.000-07:00

Oh my goodness! My eyes fill with tears every time I think about this experience and it's even harder to keep dry eyes when I tell the story. The story has to be told though. There is a young baby who bears the name Mason and this is part of his legacy and heritage. I hope you don't mind but I'd really like to continue the story now if you have the time and don't mind sitting here by the river a little longer. It's such a beautiful day and I'm enjoying sharing with you all so much! You don't mind? Great! So excuse me for a second while I grab a tissue and wipe these tears away. They're tears of joy you know.

It was hard to leave the tunnel. It was hard to leave this little place at the bottom of the gorge - hard to drive back up that long, steep, windy road to the top again. I know I left part of me behind here at River Portal and I took a piece of it with me. I'll always be connected to this place.

When we got home I was anxious to try to document my findings. I didn't NEED documentation - but I'm a genealogist and documenting is important to us. I checked the 1910 census again. How could I have missed or forgotten what I found there? I'd been doing research for many years - even for other people. It's not like me to miss an important piece of information. There it was - right there on the census - my great grandfather's occupation: "Driller". And the place of employment "Tunnel". CONFIRMATION!!! I had the documentation I needed to prove that my connection to River Portal was exactly what I'd come to believe it was! I was incredibly proud of my great grandfather!

I still pinch myself sometimes thinking about how amazing it was that I had found the tunnel and River Portal at the time of Mason's birth. Why not before on my previous visit? Why then? Why did all of the pieces come together perfectly right then? What were my odds of finding someone who would have access to the tunnel and let me go into it? Why did this also happen during the centennial year? A hundred years after it was dedicated! A chain of miracles!

I don't remember who called who but there were phone calls between me and the head park ranger Paul Zaenger. He told me a lot about the tunnel and he was really interested in hearing about my family. The park had been documenting the history of the tunnel but didn't know much about the people who had lived there. We exchanged pictures. He told me something that still flabbergasts me...there were only 3 known pictures of that group of miners at the tunnel entrance. It was a company photo. One picture was in the National Archives. One was in the Denver archives. One belonged to the water company involved with the project. They had no idea a fourth one existed. They confirmed that it was definitely that tunnel. In my search for a tunnel / a mine - I had looked for mineral mines. I'd never looked for anything to do with water! Paul even sent me pictures of what River Portal looked like back then and pictures of the tunnel when it was being built. There was no mistaking that entrance. I felt so privileged to have that picture of the tunnel! I also felt a great deal of joy that I had solved the mystery of the tunnel. No one in the family had known where it was - not even the state it was in.

Paul told me something else that was extraordinary! The park had selected that tunnel entrance photo as the cover photo for the brochure related to the centennial celebrations of the tunnel dedication - and they'd selected it before they knew a thing about me or my family's connection. What were the odds of that? There were an unusual number of pictures taken at River Portal - probably due to the precedent setting nature of the project - so there were many pictures to choose from. They had chosen THAT one. Amazing, don't you think?

I became very interested in trying to help document the people who lived at River Portal. Not just my own but any that I could find information on. I'm still working on that project. (You can read more about that at http://irishmason1953.blogspot.com/ ) Of course I started with my own family! Let me tell you a bit about them. I'm really proud of them and my journey to trace this side of my family has been a very difficult one. I hope it will inspire others to never give up searching for their ancestors no matter how many obstacles or brick walls get in their way.

Into The Darkness

2010-04-24T14:30:00.000-07:00

Can you imagine?! He had the key! And he was going to show me where the tunnel is! Too good to be true! (Bless you, Jerry Dennison! That's his name. Great guy!) I looked around me as he went to his house to fetch the key. Where could the tunnel possibly be???

When he came back he led my husband and me to a place we'd never imagined. See that little building over there - the wood frame one by the river behind that fence? Believe it or not that's where the tunnel entrance is! My heart sank. Surely this couldn't be the tunnel entrance in my picture! How could it be? But I still felt that I was right and that this is where my family had been. I felt such a mixture of emotions as we walked to the little building. I was so sure - but this little building??? Jerry's not home today or I'd get him to take us in there. Maybe another day....

Jerry lead us through the fence and opened the door and we walked in. There they were again...goosebumps! He explained that the little building had been built to cover the entrance. I saw nothing resembling a tunnel entrance. Ahead of us was only dark...and then I heard something else...water. Up ahead somewhere beyond us I could hear the sound of water lapping. Goosebumps were getting bigger. I began to take pictures. Then Jerry offered to close the doors behind us so that I could take pictures without the light behind us. The doors closed and we stood there in the pitch black darkness listening to that sound of lapping water. I can still see it and feel it. I can't describe it very well. It was an incredible experience. It was silent except for the water. Tears ran down my face. I forgot about my husband and Jerry standing there with me. If I had been by myself I knew I still wouldn't have been alone. I felt presences here. How can I begin to explain? Have you ever seen Ghost Whisperer? There have been moments when Melinda has had a group of white beings gathered around her - friendly spirits. I don't mean to be trite but that's the best description I can offer. I felt surrounded by friendly spirits. It was a warm, comforting, beautiful experience. The thought that jumped into my head was "The ancestors are smiling."

I believe that. Irish eyes were smiling - from somewhere beyond - looking down and nodding in approval. In a way I'd come home. I'd found a special hidden secret place. I didn't really need any proof or any documentation. I knew I'd found THE tunnel. I knew it. We'd walked into the darkness and found a portal to the past.

Chance? Coincidence? Led By Ancestors?

2010-04-24T13:19:00.000-07:00

Ahhhh...nice walk by the river. I feel refreshed now. Hope you do too. We'll sit down again and I'll continue my story. Don't you love the sound of the river in the background? Nature is better than any theme music!

Waiting for that movie to end seemed forever! I couldn't really get up and run out. Not in my nature to do that so I had to sit still and wait...and wait...and wait. Finally! Movie over - I rushed out to the nice women behind the counter. I told them I had a really stupid question to ask. (Are there really any stupid questions?) I asked them if there was any chance that there was a list in the park or in a historical society or library or ANYWHERE of the people who had worked on the tunnel. I thought they'd shrug it off. How could they know how important my question was to me? They were amazingly paying intense attention. I told them I knew my family had been in a place called River Portal in 1910. Their attention was obviously growing. I told them the family was Irish and that they were immigrants and that my great grandfather had been a miner. I told them about the hat in the movie. I told them I was suspecting that my great grandfather had possibly worked on the tunnel. I told them I'd tried to find River Portal and couldn't - but that the movie had mentioned it in relation to the Gunnison Diversion Tunnel. Their attention had really grown and I could sense their excitement. But why? I was puzzled. Why would my "stupid question" and comments inspire their excitement? I didn't have long to wait for an answer. They told me that 2009 was the 100th anniversary of the Gunnison Diversion Tunnel! THE 100TH ANNIVERSARY!!! In honor of the centennial celebrations park rangers had been working to document the history of the tunnel! Oh be still, my heart! It was pounding out of my chest! Remember now...I'd been here before. I'd seen the movie before. Why was this all happening NOW - with the birth of little Mason! It was astounding! They wanted me to stay and talk to the park rangers. They were very insistent about it. I could see that the rangers were extremely busy with several bus loads of young children. I didn't want to disturb them - especially since I only had gut feelings - not proof. I left them alone - but the women took my name & contact info and I got the name of the ranger in charge and his contact info. These nice women also told me something extremely important. They told me that River Portal no longer exists - but that the "remains" of it were down at the bottom of the gorge - down that "East Portal Road" that I'd seen the sign for at the entrance. They warned me that it was a VERY steep road (no kidding!). They told me it had been a 17% grade at the time of the tunnel building! YIKES! It was bad enough the way it was. We braved the trip down and there we were at the bottom of the gorge - next to the Gunnison River. Yup...right where we're sitting now! It was beautiful and peaceful - just like it is now. There was a dam with water flowing heavily over it. Did you notice it over there to the right? Pretty, isn't it? It's called Crystal Dam. There was very little here (as you can see) - and nothing that indicated to me that a little town had ever been here. I felt something though. I knew my family had been here. Not near - but right here. I knew it! There was one little old house there with a nice little neat garden (see it over there? Isn't it cute?) Then a man appeared and he was piling up branches. I did it again - the "stupid question" thing. I didn't really want to bother him but I had to know. I asked him if he could tell me where the remains of River Portal were. He told me I was standing on them! He told me that he lives in the house which is the only remaining one from that time. He told me that he works for the water company that controls the dam. We had a wonderful conversation! Turns out that he and his wife had taken up genealogy over the winter. (Life must be difficult at the bottom of a deep gorge in the winter in Colorado!) That very morning he'd made a huge discovery - a very emotional one - on his own family. This man understood my quest! I asked him if he knew where the tunnel was because I couldn't see any tunnel and I assumed it was somewhere else. He replied, "Let me get the key!"

A Baby Is Born

2010-04-24T12:49:00.000-07:00

I'm going to start sharing my stories in a very special place. Once upon a time in Colorado there was a little place called River Portal. So let your mind's eye take you to a seat on a rock or the grass beside the beautiful Gunnison River and I'll tell you all about it. Get yourself comfy now! We'll be here a while!

In the spring of 2009 my husband and I were travelling around the state of Colorado for a few days - just for fun - stopping here and there along the way. Most of the places we'd been to before but wanted to see again.

On one particular day an amazing thing happened and it all started with the birth of a baby - our grandson. Our daughter had chosen his name long before his birth - Mason Liam ___. It was a very special name - to honor our Irish heritage. Mason for our Irish surname and Liam as the Irish version of William - my dad's middle name. We were all very excited. Little Mason waited until both sets of grandparents were away on vacation before he made his grand appearance. My husband and I happened to be spending the night in Montrose, Colorado. We planned to visit Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park - a place we'd been very impressed with on a previous visit.

Hope you're still comfy sitting here by the Gunnison River with me. Isn't it beautiful? I've always loved water. It's in my blood. Masons love water. This is a particularly beautiful location. It's at the bottom of the gorge - way down at the bottom of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. Look up above you ... there are people up there looking down here and it's so far down they can't even see us!

It's a long road down to the bottom of the gorge. But my story starts at the top so relax and I'll back up a bit and go back to where I was in this story - the birth of my grandson.

One thing I knew about Montrose was that my Mason family had lived in this county. They were listed on the 1910 census living in a place called River Portal - a place I hadn't been able to locate. When news reached us of our grandson's birth I was beside myself with joy at being in a place I associated with our Mason ancestors. It seemed so appropriate.

The birth was difficult and my daughter needed rest & recuperation so we carried on with our plans. The next morning as we entered the park I noticed a sign off to the right of the road - just before the ranger station. It said "East Portal Road". I felt goosebumps. Portal plus Montrose = Possibilities. Still ... it was a long shot and probably had nothing to do with River Portal. We went to the Visitors' Center and they were getting ready to show a film. I didn't really want to watch it. I'd seen it before and it was a gorgeous day - very warm for that time of Spring. I wanted to be outside. I felt that I'd hurt feelings if I didn't watch it though so I went in - reluctantly. Somewhere during the movie they mentioned the magic words "River Portal". Ever heard the saying about your hair standing on end? Goosebumps? My whole body was covered with them! The movie talked about Irish and Italian immigrants who had helped to build a tunnel to divert the Gunnison River. I couldn't believe my ears! My great grandfather had been a miner. I had a picture of him in front of a tunnel entrance in a group of miners. Try as I might I could never identify that tunnel or that mine. Then the film showed a picture of a miner in a hat - unlike any I've ever seen before ---- except in that picture of my great grandfather at that tunnel entrance! I had a very difficult time sitting through the rest of that movie! Every cell in me was screaming! I'd found River Portal! I'd found the connection to my family! Oh...but the story gets better. So if you need to ... get up and stretch and walk around a bit and when you're ready we'll continue the story.

My Country = America; My Heritage = Irish

2010-04-22T23:24:00.000-07:00

I have to be honest with you. I'm not entirely Irish. Like most people in America I'm actually "Heinz 57" - a mutt - a mixture of many different blood lines. I do, however, qualify for dual citizenship and that makes me tend to romanticize a lot about my Irish heritage. I've never set foot on Ireland's soil. I can gladly proclaim that my daughter and granddaughter have been there but I haven't been. So the Irish that I proudly declare myself to be is a wee bit of an exaggeration. I'm not apologizing for that though. I'd love to shout my Irish heritage for the world to hear. It excites me. I feel passionate about it. It's also the blood line that I've found the most interest in while doing genealogy. I believe I've been led on my journey of discovery by my Irish ancestors - and my journey is quite an interesting one. It's a story of what seemed to be insurmountable obstacles being overcome in miraculous ways. So join me as I share my journey. I hope it inspires you to never give up on your own family research endeavors.