Donald and Helen must have been proud when their beautiful daughter, Isabel, met the handsome young Robert. You see, Robert de Bruce, who would later be crowned the first King of Scotland, came from a long line of nobility. According to the Encyclopedia of the Middle Ages (Norman F. Cantor, ed., New York, 1999): “Robert I (1274-1329) the Bruce holds an honored place in Scottish history as the king (1306-1329) who resisted the English and freed Scotland from their rule. He hailed from the Bruce family, one of several who vied for the Scottish throne in the 1200s.”
Robert’s wife, Isabel, soon gave birth to a daughter, Marjorie, who married Walter, part of the Stewart line. Several more Stewarts married into the family along the way, eventually leading to the current British royal family, including Queen Elizabeth II… But let’s follow another thread…
Marjorie and Walter had a son named Robert, who followed his grandfather to the throne. Through several generations, including marriages to Mures and Drummonds, Edmunstones and Rosses, Hamiltons and Semphills, part of this family married into the Dalrymple line, another Scottish family with royal connections. John Dalrymple (1648-1707) was a Scottish noble who played a crucial role in the 1707 Treaty of Union between the Kingdom of Scotland and the Kingdom of England, that created the Kingdom of Great Britain.
His son, George, came to the United States, where he married Rose Mason in Philadelphia. George and Rose Dalrymple moved to South Carolina, where they merged with the Jones family, eventually traveling to Arkansas. Along the way came some Heaths, Coopers, Brents, and Montgomerys, along with a Rhodes family from North Carolina and Tennessee.
Neoma Rae Jones was born July 13, 1896 in Brush Creek, Ark., the granddaughter of Henry Dalrymple Jones. She married Thomas Elliott Sharpe and had several children. She lived a long and happy life, passing away in Dallas, Texas at the age of 99, surrounded by her family. One of Neoma's children was Dorris Jean Sharpe, who was born April 1, 1931 – 21 generations from King Robert I of Scotland. She is my mother.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Who's been cashing those checks?
While trying to gather information to help my two brothers in their quest to emigrate from Venezuela to the U.S., I was told that they need copies of my late father’s early school records to serve as proof of his citizenship. I knew he had graduated at McAllen, Texas High School in 1949, so I wrote to the records department. They were able to trace his records back to elementary school in the late 1930s, and I am waiting to receive those. I was told that having his social security number might speed the process, so I contacted the local office and was informed that they needed a copy of his death certificate before they could release any information. While looking up his records, they discovered that his monthly checks were still being sent to his last address in Venezuela, even though he had been dead for more than seven years. Maybe the death certificate will clear things up, but I wonder who has been cashing his checks?
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Looking back a few years
In reading this family history, don’t think of it as “John begat Mary begat Samuel…” Think of the individuals and their struggles, note the variety of names and places, the travels and the trades. Genealogy can be fascinating, and your history can tell you a lot about yourself… your disposition, your gifts, your dreams…
John Spencer was a tailor. Born in Yorkshire, England, he and his wife immigrated to the U.S. and raised a family. They both died in Bucks, Penn. in late 1683. There is evidence that they both perished when the Neshaminy River flooded. One of their sons, Samuel, married Elizabeth Whitton, whose family was also from Yorkshire, England. Samuel and Elizabeth had a son, Samuel Spencer Jr., who wed Mary Dawes in June 1723 at the meeting house of the Friends of Plymouth, Penn. (they were Quakers). Mary was the daughter of Abraham Dawes and Edith Whitton of Philadelphia. Samuel and Mary’s mothers might have been related, but I don’t know for sure.
Samuel and Mary Spencer had a son, Nathan, who married Hannah Lofborough, the daughter of Nathaniel Lofborough and Margaret Bissett of New Jersey. Nathaniel left New Jersey to become the first known keeper of the Crooked Billet Tavern, a well known landmark in Hatborough, Pa. Nathaniel’s father, John Loofbourrow, had come to the U.S. from Scotland, marrying Hannah Miles Bunn of Suffolk, Mass. They were both born in 1659. Hannah Lofborough Spencer gave birth to Nathan Jr., whose son, David, was born in Loudoun County, Va. David Spencer married Leah Pickering, who gave birth to yet another Nathan Spencer, who was born in Ohio in 1820. Nathan wed Louisa Hiatt (born 1822), whose family roots were in N.C., Virginia and Maryland.
Nathan and Louisa Spencer had a son, Joseph Henry Spencer, who was born in Kansas in 1845. Let’s stop here for the moment and follow another thread…
Melchior Ruch, born about 1615 in Duerrenroth, Switzerland, married Elsbeth Frauchiger about 1640. Their son, Melchoir, was born December 25, 1644. He lived in the Germanic area of the Northern Alsace now known as Bas-Rhin in Northeastern France. He made a living as a shepherd in Schillersdorf.
The earlier Ruchs probably originated in Emmental (now part of Switzerland), having moved to the northern Rhineland sometime during the 17th century.
The earliest record of Melchoir Ruch of Alsace was recorded in the year 1676 in the church register at Oberbronn, where he was mentioned as a shepherd from the Village of Schillersdorf, and also in a church register in 1679 as a citizen and a shepherd at Ingweiler. That same year, he married Anna Maria (unlisted last name), who gave him a son, Johannes Adamus Ruch, born in 1688. Johannes and his wife, Anna Margaretha, had a daughter, also named Anna Margaretha, who married Hans Michael Haudenschildt, a shepherd in Neiderbronn who was born in Alsace-Lorraine, France. Hans Michael was the son of Diebold Haudenschildt, who was born in Rhineland, Germany about 1680.
Hans and Anna Haudenschildt were wed at Langensoultzbach Lutheran Church on January 11, 1724. Their son, Johannes Diebold Haudenshildt, was born in France in 1745. The Haudenschildt family arrived at Philadelphia Oct. 17, 1749 on the ship “Dragon.” Johannes had a son, Jacob, who wed Mary Robinson of Virginia. Jacob and Mary’s daughter, Elinor, changed her name to Howdyshell. Elinor married John Van Dyne of New Jersey, whose grandfather, Matthew Van Duyn (1752-1837), was a veteran of the Revolutionary War. The Van Dynes had a daughter, Sarah Jane, born in 1844 in Kansas. Sarah married Joseph Henry Spencer (listed above).
Joseph and Sarah Spencer had a daughter named Louisa Ellen, who was born in Montgomery County, Kansas in 1872. Louisa married Edwin Burwick, who was born in Knox County, Missouri to Rev. William Burwick and Louisa Carter Creason. Edwin and Louisa had a son, Lloyd William Burwick, who was born in Galena, Kansas. Lloyd Burwick traveled to California, where he met Mary Magdalene Kozlowski of Pomona. Mary’s parents were Joseph John Kozlowski, who was a California Symphony Orchestra conductor, and Jennie Goldenbee. Both Joseph and Jennie were originally from Posen, Germany (which is now Poznan, a city in Poland).
Lloyd and Mary Burwick had a son, Lloyd Lee Burwick, who was born in Pomona, Calif. on March 23, 1931. He was my father.
John Spencer was a tailor. Born in Yorkshire, England, he and his wife immigrated to the U.S. and raised a family. They both died in Bucks, Penn. in late 1683. There is evidence that they both perished when the Neshaminy River flooded. One of their sons, Samuel, married Elizabeth Whitton, whose family was also from Yorkshire, England. Samuel and Elizabeth had a son, Samuel Spencer Jr., who wed Mary Dawes in June 1723 at the meeting house of the Friends of Plymouth, Penn. (they were Quakers). Mary was the daughter of Abraham Dawes and Edith Whitton of Philadelphia. Samuel and Mary’s mothers might have been related, but I don’t know for sure.
Samuel and Mary Spencer had a son, Nathan, who married Hannah Lofborough, the daughter of Nathaniel Lofborough and Margaret Bissett of New Jersey. Nathaniel left New Jersey to become the first known keeper of the Crooked Billet Tavern, a well known landmark in Hatborough, Pa. Nathaniel’s father, John Loofbourrow, had come to the U.S. from Scotland, marrying Hannah Miles Bunn of Suffolk, Mass. They were both born in 1659. Hannah Lofborough Spencer gave birth to Nathan Jr., whose son, David, was born in Loudoun County, Va. David Spencer married Leah Pickering, who gave birth to yet another Nathan Spencer, who was born in Ohio in 1820. Nathan wed Louisa Hiatt (born 1822), whose family roots were in N.C., Virginia and Maryland.
Nathan and Louisa Spencer had a son, Joseph Henry Spencer, who was born in Kansas in 1845. Let’s stop here for the moment and follow another thread…
Melchior Ruch, born about 1615 in Duerrenroth, Switzerland, married Elsbeth Frauchiger about 1640. Their son, Melchoir, was born December 25, 1644. He lived in the Germanic area of the Northern Alsace now known as Bas-Rhin in Northeastern France. He made a living as a shepherd in Schillersdorf.
The earlier Ruchs probably originated in Emmental (now part of Switzerland), having moved to the northern Rhineland sometime during the 17th century.
The earliest record of Melchoir Ruch of Alsace was recorded in the year 1676 in the church register at Oberbronn, where he was mentioned as a shepherd from the Village of Schillersdorf, and also in a church register in 1679 as a citizen and a shepherd at Ingweiler. That same year, he married Anna Maria (unlisted last name), who gave him a son, Johannes Adamus Ruch, born in 1688. Johannes and his wife, Anna Margaretha, had a daughter, also named Anna Margaretha, who married Hans Michael Haudenschildt, a shepherd in Neiderbronn who was born in Alsace-Lorraine, France. Hans Michael was the son of Diebold Haudenschildt, who was born in Rhineland, Germany about 1680.
Hans and Anna Haudenschildt were wed at Langensoultzbach Lutheran Church on January 11, 1724. Their son, Johannes Diebold Haudenshildt, was born in France in 1745. The Haudenschildt family arrived at Philadelphia Oct. 17, 1749 on the ship “Dragon.” Johannes had a son, Jacob, who wed Mary Robinson of Virginia. Jacob and Mary’s daughter, Elinor, changed her name to Howdyshell. Elinor married John Van Dyne of New Jersey, whose grandfather, Matthew Van Duyn (1752-1837), was a veteran of the Revolutionary War. The Van Dynes had a daughter, Sarah Jane, born in 1844 in Kansas. Sarah married Joseph Henry Spencer (listed above).
Joseph and Sarah Spencer had a daughter named Louisa Ellen, who was born in Montgomery County, Kansas in 1872. Louisa married Edwin Burwick, who was born in Knox County, Missouri to Rev. William Burwick and Louisa Carter Creason. Edwin and Louisa had a son, Lloyd William Burwick, who was born in Galena, Kansas. Lloyd Burwick traveled to California, where he met Mary Magdalene Kozlowski of Pomona. Mary’s parents were Joseph John Kozlowski, who was a California Symphony Orchestra conductor, and Jennie Goldenbee. Both Joseph and Jennie were originally from Posen, Germany (which is now Poznan, a city in Poland).
Lloyd and Mary Burwick had a son, Lloyd Lee Burwick, who was born in Pomona, Calif. on March 23, 1931. He was my father.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
A personal journey
Learning of my father’s death – four years after the fact and 40 years after I last saw him – was not exactly a heart-wrenching moment, but it did lead to a flood of childhood memories.
I was a very introverted child, and though I enjoyed the adventure of visiting another country, I felt alone much of the time that I lived in Venezuela. My father was distant, involved with his work and baseball (baseball is big in Venezuela). My stepmother didn’t seem to fully accept me, and I missed my mother and my brothers, Cliff and Kyle, back in Florida. More often than not, I sat alone during lunch and recess at St. George’s School. I didn’t feel that I fit in. There was a mix of students – some native Venezuelan, others from England, Yugoslavia, Egypt and various other places – no doubt the children of transplanted workers in various industries. (My own father was an electrical engineer with dual citizenship). That's me in the photo, third from the right. Some of the teachers at the British private school were cruel, especially to the quiet students like me…
I enjoyed reading from an early age, but the thought of reading out loud in class was unbearable. When the teacher called on me, I froze. Since I was unable – or, to her, unwilling – to read the passage that she asked of me, she ordered me to the front of the class. There, she took hold of my jaw and jerked my head back, holding me in a tight, uncomfortable grasp. I didn’t know what to do. If I had been more self-assured like Colin, a rambunctious student from England, I likely would have kicked her in both shins and run out the door. But I stood there squirming as another student was called on to read…
It’s not clear to me how long it was after this incident that I flew back home to the states, because my memory was fuzzy for a long time. My mother called my father and asked what he had done to me. I was not speaking, and she was anxious to know what had happened. She even investigated the airlines. I couldn’t tell her why I wasn’t able to speak, because I had wiped away the memory of the awful humiliation of that day in class. I had crawled into a shell, probably during the flight home across the Caribbean, as a way to cope with something that I had no way of dealing with emotionally.
Over the years, my mother took me to see psychiatrists and therapists, and there were drug treatments and evaluations. A therapist once told my mother that I would never speak again. Overhearing this, I must have resigned myself to this “truth.”
I graduated high school and attended college for a couple of years, but dropped out with no clear sense of direction. I worked at various menial jobs, endured a marriage that seemed to be doomed from the start, and was basically limited in my career and personal growth by the inability to speak.
I had become a Christian in my late 20s, but struggled with my new faith. One day the memory of what the reading teacher had done suddenly returned, giving me renewed hope that, since my handicap was not from a physical cause, maybe I would be able to speak again. I was referred to a counselor at a private school, who patiently read my written reply to her questions about my life. She prayed for me and then told me to thank the Lord for what He had already done, and the words “Thank you, Jesus” seemed to come from somewhere deep inside me. From that moment, even though my vocal cords were “rusty” and it was difficult to string words together into sentences, I was able to communicate without having to rely on pen and paper. I was 29, and hadn’t spoken in 19 years...
My newfound voice, and the confidence that came with it, were among several factors that drove me and my first wife apart. A few months later I met Debbie. As each of us was recovering from a failed marriage, we had a mutual desire to make things work. It has been a struggle, but we’ve made it for 20 years. We have encountered serious health problems, lost a home and endured an often strained relationship with our only daughter through her teen years. But as the saying goes, “Whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.” We’re closer to our daughter than we’ve ever been, and looking forward to meeting our first grandchild. Life can be difficult, but God is good.
While working in a book warehouse, I injured my back several times... my wrist, my hip, my shoulder... you name it, I hurt it. A fellow worker told me I should go back to school and begin a new career. Through faith and a strong desire to succeed, I struggled through three years of full-time work and full-time school, finally walking across the stage at Milligan College to claim my Bachelor degree at the age of 49. I was proud!
See pages 22-23:
http://www.milligan.edu/news/MCmagazine/milliganmagazine_su08.pdf
I was a very introverted child, and though I enjoyed the adventure of visiting another country, I felt alone much of the time that I lived in Venezuela. My father was distant, involved with his work and baseball (baseball is big in Venezuela). My stepmother didn’t seem to fully accept me, and I missed my mother and my brothers, Cliff and Kyle, back in Florida. More often than not, I sat alone during lunch and recess at St. George’s School. I didn’t feel that I fit in. There was a mix of students – some native Venezuelan, others from England, Yugoslavia, Egypt and various other places – no doubt the children of transplanted workers in various industries. (My own father was an electrical engineer with dual citizenship). That's me in the photo, third from the right. Some of the teachers at the British private school were cruel, especially to the quiet students like me…
I enjoyed reading from an early age, but the thought of reading out loud in class was unbearable. When the teacher called on me, I froze. Since I was unable – or, to her, unwilling – to read the passage that she asked of me, she ordered me to the front of the class. There, she took hold of my jaw and jerked my head back, holding me in a tight, uncomfortable grasp. I didn’t know what to do. If I had been more self-assured like Colin, a rambunctious student from England, I likely would have kicked her in both shins and run out the door. But I stood there squirming as another student was called on to read…
It’s not clear to me how long it was after this incident that I flew back home to the states, because my memory was fuzzy for a long time. My mother called my father and asked what he had done to me. I was not speaking, and she was anxious to know what had happened. She even investigated the airlines. I couldn’t tell her why I wasn’t able to speak, because I had wiped away the memory of the awful humiliation of that day in class. I had crawled into a shell, probably during the flight home across the Caribbean, as a way to cope with something that I had no way of dealing with emotionally.
Over the years, my mother took me to see psychiatrists and therapists, and there were drug treatments and evaluations. A therapist once told my mother that I would never speak again. Overhearing this, I must have resigned myself to this “truth.”
I graduated high school and attended college for a couple of years, but dropped out with no clear sense of direction. I worked at various menial jobs, endured a marriage that seemed to be doomed from the start, and was basically limited in my career and personal growth by the inability to speak.
I had become a Christian in my late 20s, but struggled with my new faith. One day the memory of what the reading teacher had done suddenly returned, giving me renewed hope that, since my handicap was not from a physical cause, maybe I would be able to speak again. I was referred to a counselor at a private school, who patiently read my written reply to her questions about my life. She prayed for me and then told me to thank the Lord for what He had already done, and the words “Thank you, Jesus” seemed to come from somewhere deep inside me. From that moment, even though my vocal cords were “rusty” and it was difficult to string words together into sentences, I was able to communicate without having to rely on pen and paper. I was 29, and hadn’t spoken in 19 years...
My newfound voice, and the confidence that came with it, were among several factors that drove me and my first wife apart. A few months later I met Debbie. As each of us was recovering from a failed marriage, we had a mutual desire to make things work. It has been a struggle, but we’ve made it for 20 years. We have encountered serious health problems, lost a home and endured an often strained relationship with our only daughter through her teen years. But as the saying goes, “Whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.” We’re closer to our daughter than we’ve ever been, and looking forward to meeting our first grandchild. Life can be difficult, but God is good.
While working in a book warehouse, I injured my back several times... my wrist, my hip, my shoulder... you name it, I hurt it. A fellow worker told me I should go back to school and begin a new career. Through faith and a strong desire to succeed, I struggled through three years of full-time work and full-time school, finally walking across the stage at Milligan College to claim my Bachelor degree at the age of 49. I was proud!
See pages 22-23:
http://www.milligan.edu/news/MCmagazine/milliganmagazine_su08.pdf
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
First get-together
MARCH 2:
We siblings have kept in contact through the Internet, and I learned that Monica and my two brothers plan to immigrate to the U.S. My brothers are currently pursuing the complicated immigration paperwork, and I have intentionally omitted their names to avoid jeopardizing their efforts. Monica, who married Luis Carlos last year and gave birth to Sebastian in October, has her passport and plans to immigrate to the U.S. later this year.
My wife, Debbie, and I celebrated our 20th anniversary last October, and the wedding of our daughter, April, in January.
The day after the wedding, Debbie and I drove to Roanoke, Va. for a planned meeting with Ivonne and her husband, Luis. They had seen their daughter, Mia, off to Europe for a semester of study, and we met at a hotel halfway between our hometown and the airport in Washington, D.C.
Though we had not seen each other in almost 44 years, Ivonne and I felt a sense of closeness from the start. Luis spoke to Debbie and me like we were old friends and called me his “hermano” (brother). They told me a lot about my father. We went out to eat, and made plans for future visits. Luis connected us with Monica and her husband, Luis Carlos, through Skype video on Ivonne’s laptop, and I spoke with my youngest sister whom I have yet to meet in person. What a thrill!
Monica and Luis Carlos hope to visit a friend in the U.S. in the spring, and we look forward to getting together with them, along with Luis and Ivonne.
We siblings have kept in contact through the Internet, and I learned that Monica and my two brothers plan to immigrate to the U.S. My brothers are currently pursuing the complicated immigration paperwork, and I have intentionally omitted their names to avoid jeopardizing their efforts. Monica, who married Luis Carlos last year and gave birth to Sebastian in October, has her passport and plans to immigrate to the U.S. later this year.
My wife, Debbie, and I celebrated our 20th anniversary last October, and the wedding of our daughter, April, in January.
The day after the wedding, Debbie and I drove to Roanoke, Va. for a planned meeting with Ivonne and her husband, Luis. They had seen their daughter, Mia, off to Europe for a semester of study, and we met at a hotel halfway between our hometown and the airport in Washington, D.C.
Though we had not seen each other in almost 44 years, Ivonne and I felt a sense of closeness from the start. Luis spoke to Debbie and me like we were old friends and called me his “hermano” (brother). They told me a lot about my father. We went out to eat, and made plans for future visits. Luis connected us with Monica and her husband, Luis Carlos, through Skype video on Ivonne’s laptop, and I spoke with my youngest sister whom I have yet to meet in person. What a thrill!
Monica and Luis Carlos hope to visit a friend in the U.S. in the spring, and we look forward to getting together with them, along with Luis and Ivonne.
Monday, March 1, 2010
A beginning ... of sorts
I’m not sure how to begin telling this story, because there are so many “beginnings.”
During my first semester at Milligan College, my father died. That was October 2002. I didn’t know of his death until a year and a half after my graduation in May 2005 with a Bachelor’s degree in journalism. I got the news on Nov. 13, 2006, in an e-mail from my sister, Ivonne, whom I hadn’t seen since we both lived with our father in Caracas, Venezuela, in 1966. I was 10 and Ivonne was two. She and her older brother, Lloyd, were born to him and his second wife, Belkis … whom he had married after he divorced my mother, leaving her alone to raise three young boys in Florida. I hadn’t seen my father in 40 years when I learned of his death. Meanwhile, quite a bit of water has flowed under the bridge.
At the age of nine, I flew to Caracas to live with my father and attended school there for a year. Belkis and my father had a strained relationship and they separated during my stay. She and the kids returned to her family home in the Dominican Republic, and I stayed with my father’s friend Laura until I returned home to the U.S.
Ivonne now lives in New Jersey and teaches in the New York City School System. Lloyd lives in New York where he sells imported jewelry. Ivonne had received the news of our father’s death in the spring of 2006, in an e-mail from our sister, Monica, who lived in Maracaibo, Venezuela. Monica had contacted Lloyd to tell him that she was his sister.
My father and I had corresponded by letter over a period of several months in 2000 and 2001. He told me then that Lloyd and Ivonne lived in the New York area, and also told me about Monica. I didn’t hear from him anymore, and while surfing the Internet (in 2006) I discovered Monica’s post on Lloyd’s blog from the previous spring. I sent her an e-mail, and was surprised when Ivonne responded with the news of our father’s death. Monica, who speaks very little English, had forwarded my message to her.
Ivonne informed me of yet another sister, Lorena, who was a lawyer in Venezuela (She is now a nun). In addition, I had previously learned of my two brothers that my father had with Laura, the lady I had stayed with in Caracas. Laura picked me up at school and took care of me while my father worked. She was a very nice lady, and she planned to marry my father in 1968 but discovered that he and Belkis were still married.
I found out about my brothers sometime in the 1970s but had no contact with them until after that first e-mail from Ivonne in 2006. One of them had gotten to know our father in the months before his death, and he and Monica attended his funeral. That was Monica’s first encounter with her father. He had been living with his last wife, with whom he had no children. Lorena had met him at the age of 18, when her mother introduced him to her as her father. Prior to that, she had thought her stepfather was her biological father.
(Continued next post)
Ivonne informed me of yet another sister, Lorena, who was a lawyer in Venezuela (She is now a nun). In addition, I had previously learned of my two brothers that my father had with Laura, the lady I had stayed with in Caracas. Laura picked me up at school and took care of me while my father worked. She was a very nice lady, and she planned to marry my father in 1968 but discovered that he and Belkis were still married.
I found out about my brothers sometime in the 1970s but had no contact with them until after that first e-mail from Ivonne in 2006. One of them had gotten to know our father in the months before his death, and he and Monica attended his funeral. That was Monica’s first encounter with her father. He had been living with his last wife, with whom he had no children. Lorena had met him at the age of 18, when her mother introduced him to her as her father. Prior to that, she had thought her stepfather was her biological father.
(Continued next post)
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