Hazel's Quilt

When Hazel Garver made this quilt in the 1940s, she couldn’t have known that one of her descendants would be writing about it 70 years later.  For Hazel, it was just another household task—but for me, it’s a piece of art and a treasure.

Several years ago my mother-in-law, Donna, gave me this very special quilt, and when we visited Donna recently in Jenison, Michigan, I took the opportunity to find out more about it.

Donna’s mother, Hazel Alwood Garver (shown here with husband Walter), raised fourteen children in a tiny farmhouse in Clare County, Michigan.  (I have written about Hazel and her family before.)  Hazel made quilts out of necessity, as a way to keep her children warm in the beds they shared.  But she also put thought into her designs, Donna told me; the fabric choices weren’t just random.  The quilt tops were made from pieces of old clothing that were too worn out to be handed down one more time.  The backing was a piece of cotton or flannel—pink in this case.  The batting layer in the middle (added for warmth) was usually an old, worn blanket. 

Donna remembered some of the pieces in this quilt, which she guessed that her mother made in the 1940s.  A blue plaid piece came from an apron belonging to Hazel.  Another plaid piece of red and gray came from one of Hazel’s dresses.  Donna said that her mother would share and exchange fabric scraps with her friends and neighbors, so they all would have a nicer variety to work with.  The other women, especially her good friend Lois Denno, were generous in sharing their scraps with Hazel, knowing she had fourteen children to keep warm.

 

Hazel would have sewn the pieces together using her Singer treadle sewing machine; there was no electricity in the farmhouse.  The three layers would then be layered together, and the underneath layer was turned up around the edges onto the top layer and machine-stitched in place all around.  After that, the ties (which can be seen in the close-up photographs) were added, to keep the layers in place.  Donna said that the children would help with that part. 

Some women had a full quilt-sized wooden frame in which to stretch the three layers, but not Hazel; there wasn’t room for a big frame in their tiny home.  Hazel had a smaller frame that rolled up the quilt like a scroll, with one long strip exposed at a time so that it could be hand-tied.  After the knots were in place all over the quilt, all the ends were cut to a uniform length.

I asked Donna if her mother would work on the quilts in the evening after her children were in bed.  She said that wasn’t possible, because the kerosene lamps weren’t bright enough.  Hazel had to work on her quilts while the children were in school.  As soon as one quilt came off the rack, another one was started—there was always a need. 

I wondered if Hazel kept making quilts even after her children were grown.  Donna told me that wasn’t the case—in fact, the quilt I was holding was the last one Hazel ever made.  Hazel had a stroke one day in her friends the Dennos’ orchard, and one arm and hand were never strong again.  She slowed down after that, and wasn’t able to sew very much.

I promised Donna I would take good care of her mother’s quilt.  I am glad to own a piece of Garver history and to know a little more about the woman who created it.

The Children of Charles and Emma Garver

Previously I wrote about Charles and Emma Heilman Garver, my husband’s great-grandparents.  They had nine children, all of whom survived to adulthood, and all but one of whom remained in Michigan for most or all of their lives.  They are shown in this 1930 photo, standing behind their parents:  Alta, John, Bea, Forest, Florence, Roy, Mabel, Walter, and Ray.  I love to trace all the children in a family, not just one.  It’s called “cluster research,” and it gives me a better understanding of the family if I step back and look at the bigger picture...

Walter Garver dug ditches for his father-in-law as a young man—a photo survives.  He and his wife Hazel (Alwood) Garver had fifteen children, fourteen of whom survived to adulthood—one is my mother-in-law.  Walter was a farmer, raising hogs and milking dairy cows, but he also worked for the WPA during the Great Depression on a road-building crew.  He died at age 80, marrying a second time shortly before his death in 1971.

Clara Mabel Garver married Andrew McClellan Leeth when she was 17.  They moved to Colorado at the suggestion of Mac’s doctor, due to Mac’s tuberculosis, but eventually they returned to Michigan.  They had three daughters and a son, and she died in 1969 at age 76.

Forest Garver (pictured below) served in Europe in World War I.  Several photos survive.  On the back of one picture, he calls his flat standard-issue helmet “my little tin lid.”  He later married Aletha Allen and they had three children.  He worked as a repairman in a Flint, Michigan auto factory in 1920, but was a farmer by 1930.  He died in 1978 at age 82.

Florence Garver married Arthur Kever in 1916.  They were dairy farmers and had three daughters.  She died at age 79 in 1976.

John Jacob Garver married Naomi Burton and they had a daughter and a son.  John was a factory worker, and died young—compared to most of his siblings—at age 60, following a heart attack.

Ray Lester Garver drove his sister Clara and brother-in-law Mac to Colorado.  Ray remained there, marrying a Michigan girl named Martha Hutchinson.  He died in Colorado in 1986 at age 84.

Beatrice Garver married John Acre in 1904 when she was 16.  John worked as an auto mechanic.  She and John had two daughters and four sons.  She died in Michigan in 1981 at age 77.

Roy Russell Garver, the youngest son, helped his widowed mother run the farm after his father died in 1931.  But he contracted measles, and the complications that followed took his life.  After he died at age 26 in 1933, his mother was forced to give up the family farm.

Alta Garver, the baby of the family, married James Beattie; it was said in the family that it was love at first sight.  The marriage lasted 63 years.  They had eight children, two of whom died young.  They spent most of their lives in Michigan, where they had a grocery store called Beattie’s IGA Market in Marine City.  Alta was a member of the Order of the Eastern Star, a Masonic organization, serving as “Worthy Matron” (presiding officer).  She and James eventually retired to Florida, where Alta died at age 94 in 2009. 

Charles and Emma Garver—From Ohio to Michigan

My husband’s mother was a Garver, and it’s a big family full of lots of good stories—always has been.  Charles and Emma Heilman Garver were my husband’s great-grandparents. 

Charles Garver and Emma Heilman married in 1889 in Defiance County, Ohio, and had six children there.  In 1902 they moved to Clare County, Michigan, where the land was cheaper.  Daughter Alta talked about the move with researcher Dale Garver some years ago: 

“There was some sort of government assistance program to help people move about the country.  Charles and Emma Garver in order to capitalize on this had the choice of moving to either Virginia or Michigan…  They took the train with all their possessions, including livestock.  Son Forest, however, never had a ticket.  He tended to livestock, always on the move and avoiding the conductors.  Upon arrival for a short time they lived with friends before moving into their home on Adams Road in Arthur Township.  Since there are few loose stones in northern Ohio, Emma brought the stone with her that she used to weigh the lid down on the crock with making sauerkraut.  She never lived this down, as their new home in Michigan had rocks galore lying all over the place.”

Their last three children—Beatrice, Roy, and Alta—were born in Michigan, joining six older siblings—Walter, Clara Mabel, Forest, Florence, John, and Ray.  They settled on a 40-acre farm on Adams Road in the Browns Corner area of Arthur Township, soon buying another 20 acres.  Emma’s widowed sister Ellen Garver (the sisters had married brothers) bought the 44-acre farm to the west of them.  Soon Charles was a pillar of the nearby Brethren church.

 Dale Garver goes on to say this about Charles:

“More than a farmer, Charles (“Charlie” to his friends) also served as moderator of the local school district.  He played the fiddle at square dances along with son Ray on guitar or zither.  Charles valued his livestock and took good care of them.  Workhorses always got their hour-long rest at noon, and never worked after supper.  In the evening he would sit back and read the Clare Sentinel, often dozing off while doing so.  He and Emma often spoke German when discussing things they didn’t want the children to hear, but after World War I they ceased this practice.  Their daughter Alta wanted to learn German, but Emma wouldn’t allow it.”

Charles died in 1931.  Emma continued to run the farm with the help of 24-year-old son Roy, but it was not to last.  Roy contracted measles, which led to abscesses on his lungs and then his brain.  He died in 1933 at age 26, on the second anniversary of his father’s death.

Emma tried to keep the farm going after Roy’s death, but it was sold to her oldest son Walter and his family before long.  Emma died in 1943, and she and Charles are buried at Cherry Grove Cemetery in Clare County, near their son Roy.

Warren Alwood: A Good Man

This is a photo of my husband’s great-grandfather Warren Alwood—a good man.  He is the relative on my husband's side whom I most wish I could have met.  I love to tell the stories of the “black sheep”—oh, mercy, I really do!—but the fine and faithful citizens also need their stories told, don’t you think?

Warren Charles Alwood (1862-1935) was the youngest in his family.  His father died of typhoid fever in 1865, many miles from home, while serving in the Union Army during the Civil War.  Warren was only two, and his mother never remarried—perhaps setting an example for Warren’s later life of faithfulness in love, even after death.

Warren married Adeline (Addie) Mark in 1891 when he was 28 and she was 25—first marriage for both.  They had five children, but raised six:  Franklin, Irvin, Wayne, Hazel, Floy Dell, and Beulah.  (More about them another day.)  That puzzled me until I did some digging…  It turns out Addie had a son out of wedlock in 1886—Franklin, who was disabled with spinal problems.  But Warren raised Frankie as his own until he died in 1900 at age 13 of typhoid fever. 

The family started out in northeastern Indiana, then went to Ohio where Addie was born, but eventually settled in Clare County, Michigan, on a farm near Brown’s Corners.  Warren built a house of fieldstone which was still standing in 2002.  Six years after their last child was born, Addie died from uterine cancer at 46; Warren was a widower at 51.  His obituary later said of him, “Mr. Alwood continued to maintain a home for his family until they were all able to depend upon themselves.”

But Warren had a lot of life in him yet.  He was head of the local school board, was active in the United Brethren Church, and was a much-loved father and grandfather.  A few stories about him survive, thanks to his grandson Dale Garver:

Once when Warren came to visit his daughter Hazel Garver and her children, he had cheese and crackers during the drive over.  It had rained, and dirt had splashed on his snack.  When he got to his daughter’s house, he said his “cheese and crackers got all muddy.”  The boys soon turned this into “Jesus Christ, God Almighty!” and teased him about it the rest of the day.

Grandsons Charles, Wayne, Forest and Lester—Hazel’s four oldest boys—liked to play tricks on their grandfather.  When he came over with his Whippet, a small two-door car, and it was time to leave, they’d line up and grab the rear bumper.  The car didn’t have enough power to pull all of them, and it would stall.  Warren would get out, hollering at them, and run them off…  If there weren’t four of them, they’d still grab the bumper, but instead of stalling the car, they’d ski down the road behind it.  Unless they let go in time, they would hit the sandy spot in the road about halfway to the corner and tumble head over heels.

One day when Warren came home with his Whippet, he pulled into the small barn where he parked it.  The building had doors front and back so he didn’t have to back out.  This particular time he failed to stop and hollered, “Whoa!” as he crashed through the back doors of the barn.

This photograph shows Warren with some of his sisters and neighbors.  The startling caption is “Fat People of Brown’s Corners.”  Warren looks like a rooster in a henhouse here—I suppose he was the most eligible middle-aged bachelor in the area.

But Warren never remarried.  After 22 years as a widower, he died at age 72 from heart trouble, probably a complication of the diabetes which runs in the family...  Gone, but not forgotten.

Those Places Thursday: Michigan Farm Life in the Great Depression, Part 3

Excerpts from the childhood of my mother-in-law, Donna Garver Mosey, in her own words:

“Mom did the milking, since Dad didn’t like working with the twelve cows.  We sold the cream but not milk—we didn’t have the cooling required for milk.  The man picked up the cream once a week.  We had real butter at home, and real homemade bread in our school lunches—which we took with us to school every day if we wanted to eat—no cafeteria in one room schools! 

At Christmastime, we would cut our own Christmas tree from the woods.  Mom made sea foam candy, fudge, peanut candy, and other treats.  Gifts were practical—clothes for school, mostly.  We would also get those old pinball kind of games that you would play on the floor—not one apiece, but one to share for all…  

When I was little our family had gone to church, but we quit going when there were too many kids to clothe and transport.  We went until there were five kids (counting brothers and sisters), but then it got too hard to get everyone dressed up enough.  But after that, we kids were still allowed to go—my dad would even drive us there—and my sisters and I went—Fern and Virginia and I, and Betty when she was old enough.   

We girls didn’t have bikes, but the boys did.  We didn’t do any horseback riding—we only had work horses.  Summer vacations, we worked in the garden and helped with the canning—I liked peeling peaches and tomatoes because you could boil them and the skins would drop right off!...  We always had enough to eat—but it was a lot of beans and potatoes.  I still like beans of all kinds—now it’s a healthy thing to eat.  I’m a “vegaholic” and I like fruit of all kinds.  Of course I like meat, too.  Butchering days were interesting on the farm!

My mother always made a good Sunday dinner with all the trimmings—meat, potatoes and gravy, salad, coleslaw, pie…  We girls once said to her, 'You always cook what Dad likes.”  She said, “I had Dad before I had all of you, and I’ll hopefully have Dad after you’re gone—so yes, I cook what he likes.”  I got the same story from our Fabulous Five with what I cooked for their dad while they were growing up.

8 boys, 6 girls.  Donna is in the front row middle, between her two parents.

I remember the day Doris (the oldest of the fourteen of us) left home.  It was the first time I ever saw my mother cry.   She left to be a housekeeper for somebody; then she met Lawrence and got married.  Charles left next.  He worked for a farmer nearby, the next farm over from his future wife Ellen...  I remember when Forest left home.  A farmer came to the house, wanting to hire a farmhand for milking, etc.  Mom and Dad said, “Forest can go.”  Forest later felt that meant that they didn’t like him as well as the other kids—but probably he was just the right age to leave home…  None of the boys ever had trouble finding work; all the Garvers had a good work ethic.”

Those Places Thursday: Michigan Farm Life in the Great Depression, Part 2

Excerpts from the childhood of my mother-in-law, Donna Garver Mosey, in her own words:

“At school we had a recess at 10:30 and 2:30, and a one-hour lunch break at noon.  Reading was my favorite subject.  I remember what an awful time I had with long division, though!  I could do short division, but not long…  We played anti-over, where we threw a ball over the school house, and “ducky on the rock.” 

I loved to read; I devoured any books that came into the house—books, magazines, my sister Doris’ True Stories and Modern Romance, Reader’s Digest if I could get them, the newspaper if the store man saved it for us, anything I could get my hands on… There wasn’t any library that I remember.   I could spell in those days—not so good now—because we had “spell-downs” on Fridays third quarter after recess, quite often.

I was terrified of speaking in front of people.  Old Mr. Robinette, even though he burned down the barn at The Grove, was still our friend—he was a shirt-tail relative on my mother’s side.  One time they were at our place, and I had a Christmas program coming up, and I had a part, and I was afraid.  He said, “If you get up there and only look at me, you won’t cry.  And if you say your part, and you don’t cry, I will give you a dime.”  And I did it!   

We bought flour in 25-pound bags, or took our own wheat to the mill to be ground.  Mom would make 10 or 12 loaves of bread at a time, in round pans—she could only fit four at a time in the oven.  The recipe was simple: yeast, water, sugar, flour.  Our stove was wood-burning cook stove with a wood box nearby.  Mom was a good cook and a good baker.  She would make pies on Sunday while we were at Sunday School.  We had a few chickens, and she would make egg noodles.  When we had noodles, they were homemade with about a dozen whole eggs and flour and salt.  They were really a treat with chicken and broth!

We didn’t get too many invitations to eat at other people’s houses—there were too many of us to feed!  But my childhood was a happy time, as I recall it.  We didn’t know how others lived, and it didn’t matter.   

I remember laundry days.  Mom had a washboard, two tubs, and a boiler for whites—no washer or dryer.  She had to pump the water (kitchen pump), haul it to the stove, heat the water, fill the tubs, and scrub the clothes by hand.  She would start the laundry on Monday morning and not finish until Wednesday morning.  I remember her hands were raw and her fingers were bloody by the time it was finished…  I don’t know why, but we used to beg her to let us help her scrub the socks!  We would hang clothes outdoors to dry (even in winter)—they were freeze dried, but they smelled heavenly…  Ironing was a family thing.  The experienced ironers would do shirts and dresses, and the beginners would do hankies and pillowcases.”

To be continued…  Click here

Those Places Thursday: Michigan Farm Life in the Great Depression, Part 1

Excerpts from the childhood of my mother-in-law, Donna Garver Mosey, in her own words:

“I was the seventh born of fifteen children.  (The fifteenth one, William, had a bad heart and lived only a few days.)  I was born at home, as we all were.  When a new baby was about to be born, we would go outside to play, if we could, in the old corn crib if it was empty.  There was no telephone, so Dad would go and bring the midwife.   I remember once telling my teacher that when I grew up I wanted to have lots of children, like my mother did.

My dad was a ‘dirt poor farmer’...  One year a spark from the threshing machine caused a fire on the barn with the crop, so there was no way to make the farm payment to the bank.  So we had to move.  We moved into my great aunt Ellen Garver’s house.  Not a great house, but by sleeping three to four in a bed we kept warm. 

After Grandpa Charles Garver died in 1931, we moved into the family home on Adams Road.  The main floor of the house had a living room with a kerosene space heater, and a sofa, and always some rocking chairs.  The first floor also had the girls’ bedroom and my parents’ room.  In the lean-to part of the house it had a pantry and laundry room and a kitchen/eating area, with a dining table to seat twelve and a wood stove for cooking.  The second floor had only the chimney for heat, and that was the boys’ bedroom.  That house on Adams Road didn’t have electricity until the 1940s, and there was no indoor bathroom until 1946, about the time I got married.

 Besides farming 40 acres of land, Dad worked for the WPA in the 1930s, helping to build Route M61.  They built it by hand, with shovels.  He boarded out during the week and came home on weekends.  The workers who had horses got more money than those who had only shovels and manpower, so since every nickel counted, Dad was hired with a team of horses.   

I started at a country school.  It was 2¼ miles there, so some days, my brother Lester pulled me to school on a sled.  Other days, the milkman saw us Garver kids and picked us up and gave us a ride…  After that we changed schools, to the Browns Corners one room school, half a mile closer to home.  That first school, Brand School, closed after we left, since there weren’t enough students without us!

I had a lady teacher at Browns Corners School, and I loved her.  That teacher was the one who put my name in as the one and only student from our school who was allowed to go on a trip the Upper Peninsula by school bus.  We saw Tahquamenon Falls, Castle Rock at St. Ignace, and rode the Mackinac ferry (there was no bridge then).”

To be continued…  click here

Wayne, Walter, and the Model T

My husband’s great-uncle Wayne Nedry Alwood (1893-1948) had a model T automobile similar to this one, pictured.  Those puppies could be hard to start, and sometimes a person had to get creative.  But Wayne’s brother-in-law, Walter Garver, discovered a system that worked.

Dale Garver, a cousin of my husband’s and a top-notch genealogy researcher, wrote and self-published a book about the Garver family in 2002 which he entitled One Tree in the Garver Family Jungle—Past and Present.  Dale recorded some wonderful stories in the course of his research, including this one about Wayne, Walter, and the Model T... 

“Wayne Alwood drove his Model T Ford up for a visit (to his sister Hazel’s farm) one time, and parked it in the Grove.  After it sat unused for a couple of days during Wayne’s stay, he cranked it and cranked it and couldn’t get it started.  Finally he gave up in frustration, uttered a swear word, threw up his hands, and said, “I’ll walk instead!”  He then gathered up his traveling gear, got out of the car, and stopped by Walter and Hazel’s house.  He told his brother-in-law Walter, “I’m going home.  There’s a car sitting out there; if you can get the so-and-so to start, it’s yours.”  He never came back for the car.  

Walter kept it and he always used a horse to pull-start it.  He would get his trusty work horse Prince, not even bothering with a bridle, just putting the harness on him, and grab a chain.  He’d hook Prince to the car and holler, “Okay,” and Prince would pull the car backwards out of the garage.  “Stop,” Walter would say, and Prince would turn around and walk to the front of the car.  The chain was then hooked up to the front of the car and out the driveway they went, not even trying to start the car until they got out into the road.  Walter just kept talking to Prince as they slowly picked up speed.  Once a trot was established, the car was started.  Prince would then head back to the barn, beating Walter in his car, as Walter had to go on to the corner to turn around and come back.”

Is this story vitally important in the genealogical history of my husband’s family?  No.  Is it priceless to me anyway?  Definitely.

Love and Marriage in the 1800s

Recently I found the 1848 Ohio marriage record for my husband’s 2^nd great-grandfather, John Garver (1821-1901) and his wife Mary Ann Overly (1829-1890).  Often I give these types of records a cursory glance, looking for the names and dates I need—but this time I read the old, handwritten record closely, and it gave me pause.

Here is what the marriage record said:

“I, John Garver, do solemnly swear that I am over twenty one years of age, that Mary Ann Overly is over eighteen years of age, a resident of Crawford County, and not nearer of kin to me than first cousin; that she has no husband, and I have no wife; and that I know of no legal impediment to our intermarriage.”  Hold on, wait a minute, run that by me again…

·       “…not nearer of kin to me than first cousin.”  Wow!  What’s closer than a first cousin?  Only a brother or sister!  So we’re talking about a very loose standard here.  But with England’s reigning monarch of the time, Queen Victoria, happily married to her first cousin Albert, who would think anything of it?  (Even today, believe it or not, first cousin marriages are still legal in about 25 states.)

·       “…that I am over twenty years of age…”  As far as being old enough to marry (without parental permission)—that would have been on the honor system, since births weren’t even recorded in most places, not by the civil authorities, until the early 1900s—and so no one would have had a birth certificate to show, or any other form of portable identification, for that matter.  I wonder how many brides or grooms lied about their age?  I’ve certainly seen plenty of questionable ages given in the records I’ve researched.

·       “…that she has no husband, and I have no wife…”  How easy it would have been, back in those days, to get away with lying about that one!  I wonder how many people, with divorces so hard to obtain in those days, just moved away and started over?  It would have been a simple matter of moving to a county or state where no one knew you—and then making sure you kept your mouth shut.  If you could get past the part of the wedding ceremony where the officiate asked, “If any person can show just cause why these two may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace”—then you were probably home free!...  I’ve found a few cases that looked bit like polygamy in the course of my research, but I’ll bet there were a lot more.

It gives a person food for thought.

Grave Hunting in the Heartland

It was my Grandma Wallin who first took me to a graveyard—as a recreational activity—when I was about eight. I’ve liked graveyards ever since.

Recently my husband and I were traveling to Holmes County, Ohio, and I thought we might as well visit a few graveyards on the way. His maternal ancestors are buried in a string of graveyards stretching from northern Indiana to central Ohio. So, armed with my “graveyard kit,” we spent a day hunting tombstones.

First stop: Eddy Cemetery, DeKalb County, Indiana—resting place of Charles and Elizabeth Alwood, my husband’s great-great-grandparents. Charles was a private in the Indiana Volunteers during the Civil War. He left seven children at home, the oldest a boy of twelve. His unit fought its way through the south, eventually ending up in North Carolina, where they occupied Raleigh and then cooled their heels waiting for the war to end. After it did, but before he could get back home, Charles died of typhoid in an army camp there. Elizabeth lived forty more years as a widow, running their farm as well as she could. We left a flag at his grave.

Second stop:  Independence Cemetery, Defiance County, Ohio—resting place of John Jr. and Mary Ann Garver, my husband’s great-great-grandparents.  There we had the great pleasure of meeting up with the woman who cared for this church cemetery along with her husband.  We had corresponded with her ahead of time and determined that her husband is a distant cousin of my husband, and she surprised us with an envelope of photographs which were ours to keep.

Third stop:  Florida Cemetery, Henry County, Ohio—final resting place of Jacob Heilman and his family—once again, my husband’s great-great-grandparents.  Jacob, an immigrant from Bavaria, was in the 68^th Ohio Infantry in the Civil War, and theirs is an incredible tale.  His unit fought in every Confederate state except Florida and Texas, and during the course of the war, he marched over 7,000 miles and rode trains or steamboats another 6,000.  He lived to tell the story, going on to have twelve children—six before the war and six after—and he died at 88.  After taking some photographs, we put a flag on his grave and were on our way.  We had a long drive to our next stop.

Fourth stop:  Walters Cemetery, Morrow County, Ohio—final resting place of John Garver Sr. and his wife Elizabeth—my husband’s great-great-great grandparents.  John Sr. was born in 1795 and died in 1879.  He fought in the Pennsylvania Militia in the War of 1812, and was given a 40-acre piece of government homesteading land (“bounty land”) for his service and a pension in his old age.  Three of their daughters predeceased them and are buried with them—all three died in the 1840s, at ages 20, 16, and 2.

Not every husband would spend an entire day finding cemeteries and cleaning gravestones for his wife, especially on vaction...  Kudos to mine for being such a good sport!

The Two Wives of Thomas Garver

My husband’s great-grandfather Charles Garver had a brother, Thomas, who married two sisters—Mary Ann and Ellen Heilman.

Thomas Garver (1850-1902) was farmer in Defiance County, Ohio. According to notes taken by his great-granddaughter Ruth Marie Burkhart in 1943 for a school project, he had a sideline as well. She wrote, “He was a preacher of the United Brethren Church located at Ridgeville, a small town a few miles from Napoleon [Ohio]. He lived on a small farm near the church. He farmed and did odd jobs through the week and then on Sunday he gave his sermon.”

In 1873 Thomas married Mary Ann Heilman, a local German girl, and soon they had three sons named John, Ulysses, and William. None of the three boys survived long, however, Ulysses dying shortly after birth in 1876 and the other two boys in 1878; a typhoid epidemic that year may have been the cause. But soon afterwards daughter Amelia was born, followed by Ellen in 1882.

By 1884 their life together was drawing to a close. Mary Ann passed away at the age of 31, leaving two little girls without a mother. Son Floyd later remarked to one genealogist in the family that Thomas had a hand in his first wife’s death—but there is no evidence to support that claim, and family members say that Floyd was known for his tall tales. Mary Ann’s obituary says “consumption” [tuberculosis]—that we know for sure.

The grieving widower soon found comfort, however, in the arms of Mary Ann’s younger sister Ellen, and Thomas married Ellen in 1885. I wonder what Mary Ann’s parents thought? And what were their other sisters’ feelings about it? Did they think it was romantic, or just disturbing? Were they happy for their brother-in-law, or did they feel like Ellen was betraying her sister’s memory? Did young Ellen have a secret crush on her brother-in-law all those years? (She was eleven when her sister married him.) Or did she have a sisterly bond that blossomed into love as she comforted the grieving widower? Or did she marry Thomas because she felt sorry for the two little girls, who were her nieces?

At any rate, in the sixteen years they were married, Thomas and Ellen Garver had four daughters—Nettie, Mary, Bessie, and Ruth—and a son, Floyd. Think about that for a moment—Thomas and Mary had a daughter named Ellen—and Thomas and Ellen had a daughter named Mary! 

Ellen outlived Thomas, who died at age 52 from heart trouble, and she relocated to Michigan. But all three are buried together at Independence Cemetery in Defiance County, Ohio—Thomas and Ellen together, with her sister Mary Ann nearby.

The Fourteen Garvers of Clare County, Michigan

I grew up with one brother and one sister—a typical 50s family.  My mother-in-law, however, grew up in a different world—she shared her childhood with five sisters and eight brothers.   

Walter Garver and Hazel Alwood were married in Clare County, Michigan in 1914.  Over the next 25 years, they had fifteen children—in order, they were Doris, Charles, Wayne, Forest, Lester, Fern, Donna, Walter, Virginia, Max, Robert, Rex, Betty, Marlyn, and William.  All survived to adulthood except the last, William, who died from congenital heart disease at only five days old. 

The family grew up in a small farmhouse on Adams Road in Clare County without much money, but with a determination to make the best of what they had.  Hazel managed to keep her ever-increasing brood fed; my mother-in-law Donna says, “We always had enough to eat—but it was a lot of beans and potatoes.”  She once told me that her mother’s attitude about the new babies was, “One more won’t make that much difference!”  (One of Hazel’s sisters, Floy Dell Garver Haring, had a brood of sixteen.)  Donna says that “Mom had one baby mid-bread-making—Fern stepped in and finished the bread.”  Walter was a farmer, raising hogs and milking cows on 40 acres, and in the 1930s, he did WPA work helping to build Route M61—by hand, with shovels. 

The Garvers in 1948 - Hazel and Walter front and center

The sisters were close, sharing everything.  In another story I told of Donna and Virginia writing to a sailor boy in WWII, who ended up as Donna’s future husband.  Two of the boys, Wayne and Forest, were in WWII on the Japanese island of Okinawa at the same time—and  one of them managed to slip away from his unit to see his brother—a story I should tell another time.

The fourteen surviving Garvers all grew up to marry and have children; my husband has 47 first cousins!  They all got along well through the years and as far as I can see, they still do.  Since 1948 the siblings have had a family reunion in Clare County every Labor Day weekend.  The group gets smaller every year, but no less close.  Last September there were only five of them still living—Forest, Donna, Virginia, Betty, and Marlyn—sister Fern being the most recent to leave this world.  This photo is from the 1982 reunion, when all fourteen were still alive.

Two of the brothers came to a tragic end…  In 2007 Max and his wife were killed in a fire in their house trailer, and that same year, Rex—who took over the family farm in the 1970s—was gored to death by a bull.  But through all the years and all the tragedies, the Garver siblings have stuck together, supporting each other in good times and bad, helping each other whenever they could, and meeting together on Labor Day to remember those who have passed and celebrate their strong family bond.  It’s a family I’m proud to have married into.

Norman & Donna - A Love Story

My father- and mother-in-law met in an unusual way—through letters.  Their story began in 1944... 

War had been declared, and Norman Mosey, a farm boy from Michigan,  was newly drafted into the U.S. Navy.  A reporter for Michigan Farmer magazine did a story about "our boys in the service” and when he asked Norman, “What can we at home do for our servicemen?” Norman answered, “Write us letters.”  Norman had no mother or sisters or girlfriend to write to him, so mail call was probably not his best time of the day.

Donna Garver, working at a factory in Ypsilanti, saw the article. She and her sister Virginia decided to write to Norman. Donna told me, “Our theory was, let’s both write to this guy and see if he tells both of us the same story!”

I have a copy of the first letter that Norman wrote to Donna—it was found in his desk drawer after his death. He wrote, “Dear Donna, I received your letter today and was glad to hear from you. I too am a former farmer. I lived on a farm near Bad Axe in Huron County… I am 19 years old, have hazel eyes, brown hair, am 5’7” tall and weigh 170. I have been in the naval reserve since February 21, 1944... I have three brothers. One is at home on the farm with Father, as my mother died when I was four years old. Well, I guess I’ll close now. Hope to hear from you soon.”

Over time, Norman’s correspondence with Donna had staying power.  Soon he was writing to her nearly every day.  Near the end of the war he was sent home on a 30-day leave, due to the death of his father.  So Norman went home to Bad Axe in February 1946, borrowed a car from his brother, and drove to Ypsilanti to meet Donna.  They got to know each other in person at last—and by the time he went back to finish his stint in the Navy, they had decided they belonged together.  They were married in November of 1946.  Norman was a hard-working and faithful husband to Donna for the rest of his life.

When Norman died in November 2008, he and Donna were just two days short of their 62^nd anniversary.  In a quiet moment that week, Donna asked us, “Do you think Norman loved me?  He didn’t say so, not in words…”  And all of us answered without hesitation, “Yes, Donna, we know he loved you—there can be no doubt of that.”  Norman was of that generation of men who didn’t believe in talking about their feelings.  But he lived them out every day—his love for God, for his country, and for Donna.