Civil War - Charles Bunge

Honoring my 2nd Great Grand Uncle on

the 150th Anniversary of the start of

the Civil War

April 12, 1861

Karl Heinrich Joachim Bunge (Charles) was born on June 20, 1842 in Germany. When he was 6 years old, in 1853, the family emigrated to the U.S. through the Port of New Orleans.  The Bunge family then traveled to Gasconade County, Missouri where they farmed and lived in the town of Bland the remainder of their years.

Charles enlisted in the Union Calvary in 1862 and was part of Company B - 6th Calvary. According to the Civil War records I found he brought his own horse and equipment and received extra pay for that.  It appears that he served 2 years in this unit.

Charles married Mary Wittrock on October 17, 1865 in Bland, Missouri.  They were blessed with 12 children.

Charles died on March 18, 1924 in Bland, Gasconade County, Missouri.  He is buried at the Old Bland Cemetery, where many of my ancestors rest.

Old Bland Cemetery

Photo's Courtesy of Blake Georgie

(Distant Bunge Cousin)

The Day My World Changed

The morning of November 29, 2009 began as most of my mornings do; sharing a hot cup of coffee, with my husband, and arguing as to whose turn it was to go out in the cold and get the Sunday paper. We chatted about how great our Thanksgiving had been and how good the turkey came out this year.  We laughed about how silly everyone looked playing the Wii games that day, and how much fun they all had. Then the rest of the day we just did our own thing.  I worked on some things on the computer and Darrell, of course, watched every football game that was on.

When I woke that morning I had a clear picture of who I was as a woman, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a step-mom and a grandma. By that evening, my clarity would change dramatically and my world would change forever. For you see my role as wife changed to widow.  Who is this “widow” person? I didn't know her and I definitely didn't want to be “her”.  I couldn't breath. – I can't accept this! – It can't be happening! – Why now?– Why! Why! Why? I just wanted to run away.


The unrelenting sorrow and pain that followed the death of my husband, my best friend, seemed more than I could ever bear at times. The perpetual gray skies of that winter dragged on
and I felt a sense of hopelessness that I have never felt before. Tears flowed in an endless stream of grief and despair. Every night I begged God to please wake me from this dreadful dream.
With each step I took in the mornings there would be hope that he would be there; playing
solitaire as he always did and asking me for a cup of coffee. But, he wasn't there.  Despair
would settle over my body like blowing snow – cold and blinding. I was lost and alone, shrouded in a heavy black veil where there was only darkness.


In the darkness I prayed for help. The prayer barely passing my lips when I could feel the strong comforting arms of God wrapped around me. He rocked me in His arms and let me cry myself to sleep. Night after night I called to Him for strength and always He would come. I could hear Him:  Shh, shh, shh, I'm here, it's going to be alright.

In a few days a year will have passed since that night. The gray dark days of that winter gave way to spring and the blossoming of summer. Another Thanksgiving has come and gone and soon Christmas will be here. I'm still working through my sorrow, but, I have lifted the veil so that I can see the beauty of the life before me. I'm finding my way through the thorns and rediscovering my dreams and hopes for the future. Every day I reach up for God's hand and he guides me. – Some days He has to do a lot of pushing and pulling, but He is always there. At night God still wraps his arms around me and rocks me to sleep and I hear him: Shh, shh, shh, I'm here, it's going to be alright.......

(this post original from: The Next Chapter - Page 2010 )

The Mystical Power of a Treasure - Can you let it go?

This is been a tough year for me and many of my Geneablogger friends. I don't recall who it was of my Facebook Friends that declared it the “Summer of Sorrow”, but, they sure had an appropriate name for the Summer of 2010. For a while it seemed as though everyone was suffering through the passing of a loved one, whether it was a spouse, parent or close relative, it just seemed to be continual. Personally I don't like the word “loss” because you really haven't “lost” them, to me that means they can be found. Condolences and how to offer them is a subject for another time, so I will drop that for now.

I enjoy reading all the blogs about inherited or found family treasures, don't you? Sometimes I feel just a “tad” jealous, OK maybe a little more than a “tad bit”, that some seem to continually to be gifted with family heirlooms and others have nothing from their ancestors. This summer we have been moving my parents into an assisted living patio home. In doing so my folks have had to part with many of their personal treasures. Treasures collected over the 68 years of marriage. I think it was bitter sweet, especially for my Mom. I know it had to be hard to give up things that held special memories. I had asked if I could have the set of Tiffany wine glasses that graced her china hutch as long as I can remember. They are very delicate with tiny roses etched on them and they hold a memory of a special day. The wine glasses had been purchased with money given to them on their wedding day by my Dad's parents. Believe it or not, I even have the canceled check that Grandpa wrote for $17 , and marked “Wedding Gift for George and Lucille”. (How's that for citing a source? Ha ha – a little genealogy humor.) I loved my Mom's attitude about parting with her treasures. She said: “I can still enjoy seeing them in your china hutch.” Today the wine glasses gracefully sit on the top shelf of my china hutch and every time I look at them I'm reminded of my parents as a young couple picking out something really special with their wedding money.
 
There seems to be something mystical in holding an heirloom. Just knowing that 50 or more years ago an ancestor held and used that item seems to give us a physical connection to that person. I have a few handmade quilts made by my grandmother, when I wrap them around me somehow I can feel her. After all she spent hour after hour with the quilt in her lap as she sewed each square, so surely some part of her remains. The real treasure was Grandma herself, but I think we all cling to the things we can still see and touch every day,


It's wonderful when you are on the receiving end, but, can you let go of your treasure? Take a long hard look at the treasures you have surrounded yourself with in your own home. Can you picture them gone? If your spouse were to die would you be able to part with his or her family heirlooms?

Join me tomorrow as I share the pain and joy of parting with my husbands family treasures.....

Wordless Wednesday - Hildreth, NE

Just playing around with photoshop - trying out something different.  This is a photo of the main street in Hildreth, Nebraska as it looks today blended with
an old photo of the same street.....  Fun....

Sentimental Sunday - Let me be five again!

This Sunday I'm feeling a gentle sadness in my heart for the days that were and will never be again. Those hot summer days in Bedford, Massachusetts were full of adventure, especially when you're 5 years old. When I close my eyes I can picture the woods behind the house. There was cool, soft moss growing around the big trees, Lilly of the Valley scattered in bunches and blueberry bushes by the cabillions! My friend Cece and I would venture behind our duplex to the creek in search of tadpoles, there were so many you could just scoop them up in a jar. With a child's imagination the woods are a wonderful place to pretend in. I think they were much like where Robin Hood and his Band of Merry Men may have lived. Or possibly where Sleeping Beauty may have slept waiting for Prince Charming to kiss her and save her from the Evil Step-Mother's spell.


When we moved to our new home on Hanscom Air Force Base, there was a playground with swings! Oh those glorious swings how I loved them. We would sing and swing, higher, higher and higher, until we were high enough to go over the top, sometimes more than once. (Don't tell Mom!) One time, some of us kids got the idea it would be fun to put on a show, just like they did in Spanky and Our Gang. We each came up with our own little parts, thinking back I'm sure it was just silliness, but, oh we had so much fun. We would dress up in clothes and high heels, borrowed from our Mom's closet. I don't remember if we asked first, maybe better keep that quiet. We would pool our nickels and pennies and go to the PX and buy “Fizzies” and candy for our audience. I don't recall if we charged for them, but really what's a play without snacks?
Do you remember “Fizzies”?

If I could pick just one year from my youth it would be the year I was 5. By the time you're five you're really too big for naps any more. You also know that a tuna fish sandwich tastes much better when the crust is cut off and the bread is cut in triangles. You know that milk is more fun to drink through a straw, especially if you know how to blow bubbles with it, and Mom doesn't catch you. You're not to big to be carried to bed on Dad's shoulders. And best of all – next year you get to go to school, just like your big brothers! Yep, I'd sure love to spend the day in 1957.

Thanks for indulging my little trip back to the olden days........

Will We Have to go Dumpster Diving for Our Records?

Facebook was buzzing this morning about a recent article in the Mormon Times written by Michael De Groote. Mr. De Grotte was reporting on a recent speech made by Curt B. Witcher at the BYU Conference on Family History and Genealogy. Mr. Witcher states that many court houses are reducing the volumes of old records by taking a sample of each collection and destroying the rest. He also states that “We have left the care of our written records largely in the hands of disinterested strangers.” I don’t know about you, but I found this very disturbing news. This is also happening in our libraries where many of us have done research. Do you think this is as serious as the burning of books? Maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but who decides what is worth keeping? Is it the records of the well known people who are being kept and the ordinary person’s records being hauled to the dumpster? I know how disappointed I would have been, after traveling to Nebraska this summer to research some of my ancestors, only to find out that those records had been destroyed because they “didn’t make the cut”. I don’t know the answer to the ever growing storage problem of these records and the massive, almost incomprehensible, job it would be to digitize them all, but I do know that to destroy them would mean that we could be destroying the very history of our families.


Mr. Witcher asks the question: “Who is writing letters anymore? When was the last time you received a written letter?” I must admit I haven’t written any letters since I got on the internet, nor have I received any in the mail. Oh, yes occasionally someone will send a card with a small note in it and I do the same. Even when I have mailed a letter I find it faster to type it rather than hand writing it. Even most emails I receive are jokes or emails that have been forwarded over and over, so how are we communicating these days? How are we sharing our lives in this world of the quick and easy?

Mr. Witcher also seems to be stressing the importance that we all need to take the responsibility to record our living history and suggests we all, “Write as you’ve never written before.” And to share the information with our families so that it is not lost to the future. I think that’s why I feel such an urgency to learn my own family history and to share it with the next generation. I want to make sure that the children born in my family in the next 10 generations know about their ancestors.

“We have an awesome responsibility ahead of us," Witcher said. "In so many ways, we have history in our hands. What are we going to do with it? If we wait, if we relegate for someone else to take care of, we are endangering that history — that history may be lost." (copied from Mr. De Grotte’s article.)

Continued…….

You can read Michael De Grotte’s full article here:
"The Coming Genealogical Dark Ages", by Michael De Grotte

"Scrapbooking Your Family History" - 96th Edition of the COG

“Scrapbooking Your Family History” is the theme for the 96th Edition of the COG. See Jasia's blog at "Creative Gene" for all the details. Submissions are due by August 1st and only 30 submissions will be accepted.






I had a chance to find and visit the locations where some of my Habben family had homesteads in the late 1800's, near Gurley, Nebraska, in June. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of their presence as I walked the gravel road by what once had been their home. I had similar feelings while I worked on a family history book in 2008/2009.

In my submission for the 96th Edition of the COG, I have tried to capture my feelings that day. My scrapbook page was made using a picture I took of their homestead as it appears today for my background. I could imagine them working the land with a wooded plow and a horse. To represent that I added an illustration of a man and child working the farm. I faded from black and white into color to show the past coming to the future. In the upper left corner are the photographs of my ancestors who lived on this land. I faded them into the clouds to show their presence with me that day and yet unreachable.

I hope you enjoy my submission and have a sense of the joy I felt that day!

Tombstone Tuesday - William & Kathryn Nelck

While on my Nebraska Adventure I stopped at the Sidney Library to check out their genealogy resources. I had read on their website that they had a good collection of historical information so I was anxious to see it. Although the room was rather small and no air conditioning, I'm glad I stuck it out because I did find some interesting and unexpected information on the Nelck brothers. After going through the cemetery books, that someone painstakingly had put together, I happened along the names of Fred Nelks brothers, Charles and William. To my surprise they had all had homesteads in Cheyenne County. Charles and William both remained in the Sidney area and Fred left in 1899 for Welcome, Minnesota. Fred Nelk was married to my great grandfather's cousin Tena (Habben) so they were my primary research subject. Next time I will be more prepared to look into the lives of in-law relations. Something interesting and unexplained is why the brothers used different spellings for their last name. Charles and William both spelled their last name - “Nelck”, while Fred used the spelling “Nelk”. After some digging it appears that the German spelling may have been “Nilk”, according to Charles birth certificate. Sure makes researching a fun game! 

For this weeks “Tombstone Tuesday” I present William and Kathryn (Shelley) Nelck. William and Kathryn were married in 1897. They never had any biological children, but did adopt two daughters according to some of their nieces. One daughter, Vera Grace died young at the age of 18 and is buried next to her father. In 1900 (according to the census) William, Kathryn, Charles and Emma were living together on the homestead they owned jointly. From a plat map, that I found from 1913, it appears that the two brothers owned one (160 acres) section together and each owned another section individually. So they were farming 480 acres together at that time. I also learned from the plat map that their homestead was west of the homestead that Fred and Tena had owned until 1900.

Kathryn (Shelley) Nelck raised canaries and lived to the age of 92.

William died in 1936 at the age of 68.

Sentimental Sunday -Happy 4th of July

My Great Grandpa, Rolf Habben's car decorated to the max for the 4th of July celebration in Hildreth, Nebraska.  Early 1900's

"You Want to Move Where?" - Traveling Back In time -

 As I drive East on Road 46 from Gurley to the Nelk and Habben Homesteads I somehow felt transported back to the days when this young family may have traveled to town for supplies in their wagon. I purposely drive slowly during the 7 mile trip from the junction of Hwy 385 and Road 46, so that I can take in what they would have seen. With the exception of the few homes I see along the way, I’m sure that not much has changed in this area since it was first settled. As I pass Road 125 a hawk swoops down in front of my Durango and catches a small rabbit alongside the road, poor rabbit. The main crops I see are corn and grain. Today these fields are irrigated with large sprinkling systems but when the Nelk’s and Habben’s lived here they would have had to depend on the rain to water their crops.

 Approaching the crossroads of Road 46 and Road 127, I feel excited to see this land where my ancestors had lived. I look across the fields and in my mind I can make out the faint outline of a man working behind a team of horses pulling a plow. The day is hot but there is a slight breeze blowing. The Nelk farm is planted with grain and the gentle blowing of the wind makes it appear as ripples in the water.

The Habben farm is at rest but there are remnants of corn stalks possibly from last year’s crop. The old soddies are gone and there is no evidence left of the family’s existence here. Due to the drought Fred was often gone for periods of time delivery mail and supplies by wagon between Sidney and the various towns in the area. According to the stories Fred told his grandchildren, he worked for Buffalo Bill Cody, delivery the payroll for the men who were building “Rest Ranch” in North Platte, Nebraska.

As I walk down the road I get a sense of the loneliness that Tena may have felt here in isolation for days on end. Tena told her children that she would climb up to the perch on the windmill and play her accordion or harmonica to pass the hours.

Although I was alone, I could feel the presence of these ancestors by my side as I viewed this small part of their lives. It was the same feeling I had as I wrote my book “Searching”. They seemed to enter my office one by one and became a part of my life. In the end it was difficult to finally say the book was done because it seemed to mean a farewell that I was not prepared to make. As each person’s story was completed they left until I was once again alone.



It may be a romantic view of things or wishful thinking but, I was glad to once again feel their presence with me as I stood on the land they once called home.