Sisters

Dad's Older Sisters

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In early 2014, I took an interest in work that Dan had been doing in Ancestry.com. I continued his research, looking into our ancestry on both Mom and Dad's side. What was most surprising, and I'm ashamed I didn't already know this, is that I found he had many brothers and sisters in Wisconsin. I actually found 'Grace Binter', Mountain Wisconsin on their dad's death certificate. I looked her up on google, found a phone number, and made a call. I had opened the door to learning a LOT more about our Dad and how he grew up.

For your reference, Ruth is the oldest of the siblings, Grace is #2 in line born 4/20/1927. Dad is #3.

Grace was 88 at the time I first contacted her, and from the first call she was always very warm and welcoming with me. She was usually home, but also was quick to tell me that she was waiting for a call from her 'boyfriend' Steve, so we couldn't talk long. Apparently she doesn't have any form of call waiting or voice mail. We eventually talked about Steve. She mentioned that he had health problems and was right now driving home from Green Bay where he went for medication. This is like a 100 mile drive! "He drives?!", I exclaimed. "Oh yes, she explained. He is only 50 yrs. old". At this time, I had no idea of her situation or what she looked like. As it turns out, her husband Carl, whom she loved dearly, passed 25 years previous. They had no kids, and she was living in a very nice lake home (that they built together) by herself. She had a stroke 4 years or so before we talked, but still gets around very well, and she still drives. She is not at all computer literate. She doesn't own one, and never will.

Here is a recording (mp3 format) of one of our first phone calls. I had previously hung up on here while I was figuring out how to record our conversation. During the conversation she gave me Ruth's phone number.

Sometime after that, I called her older sister Ruth, born 9/10/1925. She didn't pick up, so I left a message telling her what I was calling about, something to do with Dad. I suppose I also left my email address, because she emailed me with the following:

Gary,
      First of all, Bill was not raised by foster parents. He was about 17 years
      old when the family broke up. We couldn't find a place to rent, social
      services took over about 1945, and the younger kids were put into foster
      homes. Grace, Billy and I and our parents lived in 4 room basement flat,
      and the plan was that we all work and save as much as we could so we could
      buy a house. This was hard for everyone and it makes me feel bad to write
      about it. We really don't talk about it. Anyway, as soon as he was old
      enough, Bill joined the army and we didn't see much of him after that.
      After he got out of the army, he stayed in California, married your mother
      and you know more about what happened after that than I do. 

      

      I don't know how much you know or want to know about his father's side of
      the family. His father was raised by an uncle who lived on a farm in
      Indiana, also his brother Joe. His father was in Vaudeville, sang and
      danced with his partner, Bobbie, also acted in plays, and as I told you, I
      don't know anything about his mother. If you should find out anything
      about her, please let me know. 

      

      Your father's father was William Charles Farrell, his father was William
      Thomas Farrell, and his Great-Grandfather was also William Thomas Farrell.

      

      If you want more information, let me know, I'll do what I can.Enough for
      now. 

      

      I was looking at your web site, and plan to look more. I was interested to
      see you are a biker. My son is an avid biker, rode across the country,
      from San Diego to St. Augustine, Florida with his wife on a tandem
      recumbant two years ago, has gone on other trips too, but that was the
      longest. 

      It was so good to hear from you, Aunt Ruth

...and then a month or so later I called again and she replied with this:

Gary,
      I 'm sorry if I didn't answer your call. I don't look for calls on my cell
      phone. I just use it for making long distance calls. I have found that
      this is not always a good idea, as in this case, because people then call
      me on my cell and I don't get it. If you want to call, my land phone
      number is 414-744-6065, please use that. Anyway, from what little I got ,
      you would like pictures of your Dad when he was younger. Is that right?
      Actually, I had an album of family pictures, with names, but I took it to
      a family reunion some years ago, and Grace took all the pictures out and
      passed them around, and I never got them back, in or out of the album.
      When I asked her recently about them, she said she had them but didn't
      know where. I'm not too happy about that. Why don't you send me an Email
      telling me exactly what you want and I will try to find something in the
      pictures I have. Or, if you want to call Grace, she may find them, and
      send you copies of what you want. Don't ask for the originals, as I hope
      to get them back some day. You said something about my husband sending
      pictures by computer, but that's not possible. He doesn't know beans about
      computers. Our brother, Jerry was going to do that, I thought, but
      evidently that never happened. I just looked at your "ancestry" site
      today, and there's really a lot of information on there. For instance, I
      never knew who my father's mother was, but now I see it must have been
      Millie Allen, and Emma Phipps must have been his grandmother. Thanks to
      you, that mystery is solved. 

      Your Aunt Ruth

I called their younger brother Gerry (#6 in line) and got pretty much the same thing, no answer and no returned call. But I did get an email with a scanned picture attached. The picture was so small it was unintelligible. Here is what he wrote:

If
      you got the pic here is the lineup, Bill,Jerry Tom,Danny. I,m not too
      handy at this.

Then, in Sept. 2016, June and I got an opportunity to visit her good friend in Chicago for a week. I called Grace, then Ruth, then Gerry, and explained that I would be in the area, and would it be OK if I stopped by one day to have lunch. Gerry said he would drive the 30 miles or so from Crivitz and meet at Grace's house in Mountain, Wisconsin to save me a trip. Ruth at first said it was OK if I stop by on the way back, but then when I suggested that I pick her up and we drive together and spend the night at Grace's, she agreed.

Here is a map of where they live:

So on Labor Day weekend, I rented a car in downtown Chicago. Yes, I took it in the shorts.

I left on Sunday morning at about 10 am for my long drive north. I had $1 in my wallet, and I wanted to get cash, but I forgot about it until just into Wisconsin, where I was greeted with a Toll gate for the freeway. The sign showed $1.50, so I timidly approached the gate while fumbling in my butt bag for change. I barely manage to find $1.50 so I hand it to her, and she says, "The toll is $1.90".

Now I am frantic, tearing everything apart in my bag looking for another 40 cents. I finally gave up as the line behind me was building. I said, "I really don't have any more money. I wasn't expecting this since I am not from around here."

She answered, "Yes, I believe you, but we are on camera, and I will have to write you up". UGH!! Then she says, "Is this a rental? Would you like to use your IPASS?"

"I don't have one!"

She points to my windshield where there is a small, 4-inch plastic box taped just below the rear-view mirror. She says, "Pull on the little handle sticking out the side". Sure enough, I give it a tug sideways exposing the guts of the box, and I hear the familiar 'beep' in her booth registering the pass. "Thanks!", I yell out the window and I speed off to continue my journey. Whew!

After that, I had an uneventful ride to St. Francis, just outside of Milwaukee, and got there just as Ruth was walking home from the Catholic church across the street. Ruth married Tony about 50 years ago. He died just last year and she has been living alone for the past year. Together, they raised 3 children: two boys and a girl. They have 8 grandchildren and several great grandchildren. They all live in Wisconsin.

Here is her house for the last 50 or so years:

We greeted each other, and she invited me in. I see this in her living room:

I consider myself to be pretty good at jigsaw puzzles. So much in fact, that I devised a fool-proof method of laying out all of the pieces according to the type of shape: two plugs/two holes, and so forth. It makes it much easier when color is not helpful. I quickly noticed that Ruth also uses exactly the same method, the only person I have ever seen who does this. Strange!

Anyhow, I grabbed her bag, and we were out the door.

Ruth was very easy to talk with, and very informative, as I question her as we drove north. Here is a 10-minute recording (mp3 format) of Ruth remembering her early family life.

As we closed in on Northern Wisconsin, I took a quick peak at the route and discovered that we were going right by Uncle Gerry's town of Crivitz. I asked Ruth if we should give Gerry a call and see if we could stop by and check out his place. She had only been to Gerry's once a long time ago. So I gave him a call. At first he couldn't understand why we wanted to go out of our way to visit his place. But he finally agreed, so I got his address and we rerouted our GPS. It has us taking a turn about 2 miles West of Crivitz.

Around that point, I picked up the phone to see how far to the turn. My phone was completely black, so I pulled over to look closer. NO DEAL! It was completely dead, we are in no man's land, I don't remember the address, phone number, and we have no map. I check the charging cable connection and it all looks good. I pull out my back-up battery, but that doesn't work either. Ruth does have an old flip-open 'dumb' cell phone, so she pulls it out to call Grace and explain the situation. She has no reception, so we turn around and head back to Crivitz where I know they have reception. As we drive, I am going over possible scenarios about what happened to my phone. When I plugged it in earlier, it was charging. Somewhere along the line, it quit, or the cable is broken, or maybe my phone just died. I also reflect on how completely dependent I am on my phone.

When we get into town, I pull into a parking lot and start to look at Ruth's phone. For some reason, I pick up my phone again, and I see a very faint apple logo on the screen. Yippee!! It is coming back to life after running completely dead. Apparently, when power is again applied, it takes a while for it to wake up. Disaster averted!

So finally, we get to Gerry's house about 30 minutes later than we expected.

Here is a picture of his house:

His door, Gerry just visible through the window:

The next thing I realize, is that he has a very heavy Wisconsin accent, sort of like Chicagoan mixed with Canadian, so I tell him that. He starts to play along with me: "maybe YOU have the accent, eh? Does Ruth have an accent?" "No, I answer, just you."

Anyhow, he shows us around his house of 30-something years; a nice, small, quaint bachelor pad. Gerry has been divorced many years. He is very proud of a picture of 5 girls, all his daughters, but only one is his biological daughter. I can tell he loves them all equally.

He has mined for gold in Alaska, and on his own claim property outside of Phoenix. He wants to know if I want to take his gold mining equipment, but I remind him I have a rental car outside. He fishes and plays a lot of golf. And he is a lot of fun to be around.

After 20 minutes there, we climb into our cars and he leads the way to Grace's house in Mountain, about 30 miles away. We take, what seems to be, all back roads, which are now winding through gently rolling hills and extremely dense foliage. Eventually, we arrive at Grace's house:

She greets us all warmly. We agree that we are all hungry and she offers to take us out to dinner. Gerry drives us all to a local pub where she is a regular. I took this picture shortly after we get our drinks:

From the left, Ruth (91), Grace (89), and Gerry (81). All of them can hear better than me.

I forgot how it came up, but Ruth shares something about her grand daughter who lives in California. "Hmm, where abouts?", I ask. "A small town called Sebastopol". I about fall off my barstool. "That is about 7 miles from where I live! Brett, my son, lives there". Her husband, Sean Bodell, works as a paramedic there. That's what Brett does, so I go outside and call Brett to see if he knows them. Now I, once again, am amazed at this technology. "Nope", Brett says. But what a coincidence, a first (or second?) cousin living in the same town! They have probably passed each other on the street. I make a mental note to try to contact her.

We eventually moved to a table to eat. We all talk easily, Gerry loves to tease Grace about her affinity for men and drinking. She either takes it in stride, or is used to ignoring him.

After dinner, we go back to Grace's and Gerry climbs back in his car for the drive home. He says something about having to get up early to play golf. The rest of us yack over Ruth's pictures until about 10 pm. I took pictures of her pictures. See Dad, and Ancestry for the pics.

Ruth and I each had our own rooms to sleep in, and I slept better than I had since coming to to Chicago. In the morning, we all woke up fairly early. Grace had already made a nice pot of coffee. Ruth had been complaining about a soreness in her back from working in her garden pulling weeds and so forth. Yes, I know the feeling. The night was not especially good to her.

Grace insisted on making us breakfast, and she would not let me help. She says that she has been making the same breakfast, everyday, for 20 years: potatoes, sausage, and eggs. Ruth said she was fine with just toast.

So I watched in earnest as she laid a slab of butter into a hot skillet on the stove. When it was melted, she laid in two frozen hash brown squares, four frozen Jimmy Dean sausage patties, and barely covers them all with a small lid. It looks to me that the fire is way to high. She starts feeding bread into the toaster, getting out plates and hardware, and checking the frying food occasionally, all the while chatting away with us. Then she clears out the skillet and cracks four eggs into it and completely covers all of them in a heavy dose of ground black pepper. "I hope you like pepper", she asks. I just chuckle. In minutes, we are all eating, and I was in heaven.

After that, she pulls out a sugar-covered croissant, sticks a candle in it, and invites me to join her in singing Happy Birthday to Ruth. Her 91st is in a couple of days. Fortunately, I channeled June and pulled out my cell phone because, in hindsight, it was precious (except for my singing): check it out.

Around 9am, I get an idea how fun it would be to do a Skype session with Mom. Mom has met Grace once when her and Carl drove out to see Dad just before he died. Grace again offers, "We met your brother Anthony". Over the years, Mom has sent Ruth numerous pictures of our growing family. The most recent I saw was a nice pic of all of us at Mom's 80th birthday party in Mike's yard. So, after coaxing Mom on the correct buttons to press to pick up a video call on Skype (we have done it several times in the passed couple of years), I finally connect with Mom on a video call. She looks like she just got out of bed. Then I realize, she DID just get out of bed, because it is 7am there! I apologize at length, but Mom thinks nothing of it when I set the phone in front of the sisters. For fifteen minutes, all three of them stare in disbelief at each other, echoing each others amazement at being transported into the 21st century. Ruth says she wants to get this going on her Mac Book at home so she can communicate with her grand daughter in Sebastopol.

Afterwards, Ruth and I decided to take a little walk down the road a ways. Grace slides into her favorite chair on the deck. It is already pretty warm outside. We walk a short ways, and Ruth starts to feel the pain in her back and we turn around. We agree that it would be best to hit the road early since Gerry warned us of the crazy holiday weekend 'going-home' traffic we will encounter.

Back at the pad, we find Grace still relaxing on the deck, but now with a glass of wine. It is obviously working well for her.

We gather our bags and bid farewell. Grace says she is already missing us. But I can tell she does well living alone. She is a warm, colorful person with several close friends who live close by. And she has her boyfriend, Steve.

On the road, we fall in behind a very long, slow moving, single-file lane of cars, many of which are towing boats. This is the weekend destination for affluent families and their friends with summer homes on one of the many lakes. But soon, there is a turn-off, it goes to two lanes, and we are moving South at full speed. Near Milwaukee, it bunches up again, so we take the scenic route through Milwaukee to see a few sights.

We drive along Lake Michigan passing one nice beach after another, crowded with people. All of the parking lots are full. Ruth suggests we stop at the Milwaukee Art building, and it is gorgeous:

We stopped for lunch at a nice place we found on Yelp. She is amazed with the technology that is packed into a smart phone. After lunch, we take a short drive across town to pay homage to the location of Milwaukee's baseball stadium:

Miller Park, home of the Brewers.

We return to her home, and I try to make good on my promise to get her setup on Skype. I HATE Apple products, mainly because of my unfamiliarity with them. Apple IDs and passwords, downloading apps, and for some reason in STILL doesn't work. I think Apple doesn't put alot of energy into it because they prefer you use FaceTime, which only works if BOTH parties have Apple devices. I tried FaceTime with June from Ruth's Mac Book and THAT didn't work either. Eventually, Ruth and I did have a Skype session, and I think she may now be able to set up her grand daughter as a contact. We are both exhausted. What a special treat it was for me to spend so much time with Ruth, a kind, loving, and very capable lady.

I climb in my rental, top off the tank for the return, and drive through the dark on very crowded, unfamiliar, toll freeways into Chicago, trying to keep up with the 75-80 mph traffic. On the quieter stretches, I reflect on the past two days, trying to remember when I first reached out to the sisters, wondering what they looked like, what their collective childhood was like, and if they even remembered much of my dad. After it all, I was VERY pleasantly surprised! They were both very strong, mentally, physically, and emotionally. They are both, and Gerry, an inspiration to me. I hope it is in the genes!