Thursday, February 26, 2009
Frank K Faleris born abt 1883, Sparta Greece, Died: 17 Feb 1957, Detroit, Wayne Michigan
Jennie Scopis born abt 1885, Sparta Greece, Died: 22 Sept 1974, St. Ignace, MacKinac, Michigan
Date of Marriage Unknown. All that is known about Frank is that he was a Canday Maker. I have no information about his family in Greece.
George Faleris:..................abt 1902, Greece
Pauline Faleris:.................abt 1903, Mepois, Greece
Tessea Faleris:..................abt 1904, Mepois, Greece
Harry Andrew Faleris:.....31 Jan 1907, Greece - 10 July 1981, St. Ignace, MacKinac, MI
Helen Faleris:....................9 June 1908, Baltimore, MD - 10 Jan 1996, Riverside, California
Mary Faleris:....................14 Sept 1909, Baltimore, MD- May 11985, El Dorado Springs, Cedar, MS
Thomas Faleris:...............7 July 1915, Hamilton, ,Ontario, Candada - 15 april 1993, Scranton, Lackawanna, PA Charles Faleris:................5 May 1917, Owen Sound, , Ontario, Canada-7 Nov 1990, Detroit, Wayne, MI
William Faleris:................10 Aug 1918, Greece- 10 Oct 1990, Ferndale, , MI
James Faleris:..................24 Sept 1919, Canada-4 March 1989 St Ignace, MacKinac, MI
Bessie Faleris:..................26 July 1921, Colbourge, Ontarios Canada-
Monday, February 23, 2009
My cousin Rene Corwin Young wrote the following story for me while creating a Scrapbook of the Faleris Family before her Journey to Texas to meet my sister and I in October of 2007.
My Genealogy Quest is the reason I started scrapbooking in 2007. It has been the hardest challenge of all for me to accomplish. However, recently I began to confront my challenge and have enjoyed what I have began to create. I recently ran across this poem and decided it would be the beginning of my book. So, for the next few months I will begin to quilt my family tree for those I love the most and hope that one day when I'm gone they will look at what I've created and know that it was created with love and with the hope that they will cherish and continue the quilt for their children to come....
With all my love,
Friday, February 20, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!" "It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!" I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.
The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier.
That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again.
The next year, my husband, daughter, and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt!
And so the pattern was set. On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.
In 1975, my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.
Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later, I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet. Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the works "I BELONG TO PAT." Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, "I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER."
But I didn't stop there. I zigzagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official-looking letter from "The Institute for the Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box.
But, of course, she never mentioned it. Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.
I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave, but I'm glad I didn't because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
He asked her about the contents. 'When we were to be married,' she said, ' my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doll.' The little old man was so moved; he had to fight back tears. Only two precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness. 'Honey,' he said, 'that explains the doll, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?''Oh,' she said, 'that's the money I made from selling the dolls.'
Dear Lord, I pray for Wisdom to understand my man;
Love to forgive him;
And Patience for his moods;
Because Lord, if I pray for Strength,
I'll beat him to death,
because I don't know how to crochet.
When I first starting reading this post on the other blog, I have to say it brought tears to my eyes. But those quickly turned to laughter. I have so enjoyed this story, I felt it was worth sharing here. Please feel free to copy and share with others....
Left to Right: Ray, Clarence, Lawrence, Ernest, Irvan and Archie.
This photo was taken the day they buried their mother Anthaline Beasley Evans.
Remember my first post to this blog..."Two Peas In A Pod", well they are second and third from the left. If you didn't get to read... here is part of what these boys use to do...
when i was 5 my mom took me to visit my grandparents in MI. Unfortunately my "YIYI" passed away shortly before I arrive. When I arrived, my grandmother gave me a picture of the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus. I remember it being metal of some sort and very heavy. It was only about a 3x5. On the back it had something written about Mary and Jesus. I cherished it until my ex-husband destroyed it. Listed below is the information I know about her and my Great-Grandfather Frank. I do not have a photo of him.
This is YiYi, she was born 1885 in Sparta, Greece and she passed away on 22 Septemeber 1974, in St. Ignace MI. She married Frank K. Faleris and together they had 11 children. George, Pauline, Tessea andHarry were all born in Greece. Pauline and Tessea where born in Mepois, Greece. The exact location of the others is known. Helen was born in Baltimore Maryland, and the rest were born in Canada. Their son William was born in Greece in 1919.
This is the Border Crossing Canada to US 1895-1956 document which I located on ancestory.com. It states that Frank and his Family arrived 24 May 1923. Port of Arrival is Deroit and also states he was 43 at the time and a "Candy Maker" This would put Franks year of birth at abt 1880.
However, I have also located a Detroit Border crossing & Passender & Crew List 1905-1957.
The information on this document states he arrived on 6 Nov 1938 and he was 55 years old at the time. That would put his year of birth abt 1883. It says something about 1906, but the image is not clear enough for me to tell what it is saying. I dont know if 1906 was when they arrived in Canada or not. If anyone knows about these documents I would love to know what the difference is and would love to know where I can find Frank and Jennie's parents information in Greece.
Below is another document that I located and said it was the manifest document. It is front and back. If you can help me locate their parents or any other information please let me know where to start.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
My great-grandmother is the daughter of William Henry Clark born 17 Nov 1854 in Indiana and Amanda Elizabeth Dugan Clark born March 1862 in Indiana. My grandmother is one of 14 children.
My great-grandmother was a wonderful cook, and was always prepared when company showed. No matter who many people seemed to show up unannounced, she always found a way to feed them all, and not one person ever left hungry. My favorite memories of her are from "Thanksgiving" and "Christmas" when I would wake up in the morning and run to great everyone who had arrived. Her and my grandmother Lydia Mae Clark Campbell would be in the kitchen preparing our feast. I also loved when she would cook Pinto Beans aka (RedBeans here in the south) becasue she had a special coffee cup that hung by the crockpot that was specifically for my tasting pleasure. I always got the first cup! For my birthday's she would always make me "Chocolate Cake" and that was the best part of the day.
When I was little, we lived on a small farm in Bells, Texas and there was a creek out behind the barn. We had problems with Rattlesnakes and Copperheads where we lived due to the creek. I remember swinging in my swing hanging in the Wheeping Willow tree in the back yard and Grandma racing out towards me screaming with a garden hoe in her hand. For a small child, that is pretty frightening. Actually, she had an eagle eye for those darn pest and apparently there was one wrapped around my swing. It was nothing for her to be in the garden and see her just wack a snake and continue her chores.
Grandma always kept me out of trouble. No matter what mess I got into, all I had to do is go to her. We had a garden out on the side of the house by the drive way and had lots of vegitables growing, everything from corn, greenbeans, potatoes, and cabbage. Usually for dinner of something we would go out and pick tomatoes, or onions or cuccumbers or something. So one day me being the little helper I was thought I would go pick cabbage for dinner. Only thing was, I picked all of it.... two rows worth. Grandma shook her head and told me to go replant before grandpa got home. Well, needless to say, I wasn't done when he drove up.
One of my other favorite memories was when we would go out to the garden and as she picked okra for dinner or whatever meal she was serving, she would thought the tough ones over to the cattle. I loved picking them and feeding to them. It also, ended up getting me into trouble. I wanted to feed them okra one day and they were not near the fence, so I opened the gate to go in and feed. Being a small child.... I forgot to shut the gate. Needless to say that whipping willow tree my swing was in.... we got to know each other pretty well.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Until last year, had put the family research on the back burner and not thought much about it. Here and there would think it would be nice to put all the pictures I had in an album, but never did. The I moved to Wichita Falls in 2007. One afternoon while on lunch break I called my grandmother to talk to her while waiting in line at McDonalds to place my lunch order. While talking with her, she informed me that my father had received a letter from (what I thought she said was my mother...whom I had not spoke to in 33 years). However, what she said was from my cousin. She stated who she was and who she was looking for and apologized if she had the wrong person. She understood if this was the correct person that if he chose not to give my sister and I the letter. However, my father had taken the letter to my grandmother and gave it to my sister and read it to me.
It took me two months to actually write and send her a letter in response. My first attemt sat in the door of my car till October of 2007. However, the second letter was written and I had my ex-mother-in law send it for me. I knew if I didn't have her do it, I never would. It was about 3 weeks later and I received a phone call while cooking dinner one evening and it was my Cousin from MI. We talked for ever it seemed. The following night after I had spoke to Rene (my cousin), I received a phone call from another unknown number... the caller id said it was from Michigan. I had a knot in my stomach and knew instantly it was my MOTHER. 33 years of emotions came flooding over me and not sure what to do or say I answered the phone. On the other end of the phone was a very distanct "YANKEE" accent and the words "ROBIN" do you know who this is? My reply was "YES"? And she asked me who and I told her my mom. Even thought it had been 33 years since I had spoke to her and I was now 38, I remembered the voice as if it were yesterday when I had heard it. That was on April 12th, 2007. We only spoke for a few seconds and she said her phone was dying and she would call me tomorrow. I knew in my heart that was not the truth. She like I was over whelmed with emotion and didn't truly know how to handle the moment. I hung up the phone and instantly called Rene back telling her I had just spoke to "My Mother".
I did not know weather or not I would ever here from her again. However, for just a moment my wish had come true and I had found my mom. The story behind our journey is long and not always so pleasant. However, for just a moment I had turned back into a little girl. My first actually conversation with my mom other than hello, was on Friday, April 13th while sitting in the "kamikaze" at the carnaval about to do something I shouldn't be doing she called. I couldn't answer the phone as the ride had put my body upside down about 20 feet or so in the air. "Couldn't actually answer screaming in here ear... HELP" I figured when I didn't answer she would think I didn't want to talk. However, once I got down and was able to walk, I manage to sit down and call her. We talked for a short time and I explained what I was doing and would call her when we got home.
For the next several months Rene, My Mom and I talked every night. Rene and I spent the time reliving my childhood memories that I had decided where dreams. However, in reality they did exsist. My mom and I spent the time getting to know each other and catch up on life. In OCTOBER of 2007 my cousin brought her family and my mom to TEXAS. At about 2am on October 19th my Family called and said they were in Wichita Falls and LOST. I woke from falling asleep on the couch waiting and told them I would be right there. For the first time in 33 years I was about to meet my mother all over again. And also for the first time, she was about to meet her grandchildren.
Thus begins my journey......