52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks - Week 13

Schwein home

This week’s writing prompt, the old homestead, took me back to my visit to Steinweiler, Germany in September of 2013. Steinweiler is a small (current population around 2,000) town in the Rhineland-Palatinate region. The area was first populated in 968, though it was not called Steinweiler until 1585.

It was there that I saw the home of my 6th great-grandparents, Johann Ulrich Schwein and Margarethe (Erbauer) Schwein. Ulrich, as he was known, was most likely born in Steinweiler though I have been unable to find information about his parents or date of birth. I do know, however, that in 1717 he married Margarethe Erbauer in Steinweiler.

The couple built their house in Steinweiler of half timber construction, which was common in both rural and town locations in Germany at that time. The frame of the building was made of timber, usually oak as it was plentiful. Triangular bracing was added to give additional support. The space between the timbers was filled with a mixture of branches, clay and straw. Plaster was then layered over that. The timber often remained visible both inside and outside the building.

As was popular, Ulrich had his name and the year his household was established etched into the facade of the house. The symbol between his name and the date let people know that Ulrich was a blacksmith. As Schwein indicated the occupational name for a swineherd, the family most likely had pigs as well. The construction of the house would indicate that animals were kept there as well, as you can see from the photo in the bottom right.

While I was photographing the outside of the house, the owner arrived home from work. My German guide explained to him why I was taking pictures, and he invited us to see the inside. It was beyond thrilling to cross the very threshold that my ancestors had crossed hundreds of years ago. I still get goosebumps when I think about it.

Schwein house kitchen and courtyard

Family Search 52 Stories Week 15

Today's writing prompt is one that is near and dear to my heart.

What do you love most about where you live now? What would you change about it?

My husband and I lived in two apartments and a duplex before purchasing our first home in 1982. In addition to being small, it was located on a busy street corner. Once we had our son, we began to outgrow the house so we looked for something larger on a quieter street. We saw many houses before walking into the one where we both looked at each other and said, "This is it!"

house in 1987

We were able to see beyond the ugly mint green paint color and the flamingo pink doors. We looked around the outdated kitchen and bathrooms, the horrendous wall paper that covered nearly every wall and some ceilings, and the worn blue carpet. The stacks of papers and clutter could not disguise the beautiful bones of this aging lady. The lot was huge and shaded and just waiting for a little boy to chase balls and fireflies again. Though the house sale was going through a trust in a closed bidding process, the tiny, elderly woman who had spent nearly 50 years raising her family in the home was going to make the final decision on who would next be the caretaker. We never knew if we had put in the highest bid or the lowest bid, but the realtor said that Hazel picked us because she wanted a family to again live in the house.

house as built in 1902

What I love most about the house is its history, which I researched extensively in order to obtain a century home plaque from our city. Though built in 1902, we are only the third owners. That is pretty incredible, when you think of it. The family who built the house lived here 36 years, and the next family 49 years. We are still the new kids on the block with 30 years under its roof. Unfortunately the people we purchased the home from sold off the southern half of the lot shortly after they purchased the property in 1938, which allowed a smaller house to be built next door. The early photograph above shows a stable on that part of the land. How lovely it would have been to keep the lot whole, with native plant material.

Nevertheless, this house welcomed our family with open arms and has embraced us throughout the years. Descendants of the other two owners have come to visit, and it has been fun to hear their stories about why certain things were done to the house. We have made our own modifications to suit the needs of our family, trying to maintain the original character. We no longer need this large of a house as our kids are grown and gone. And someday we won't want to climb all the stairs. Then someone else will have a chance to make their memories and leave their mark on this aging beauty.

April 2016

Setting Down Roots

the four of us & Grandma Crusham

Today is the last day of the BlogHer challenge to write about roots. There were a number of days that the writing prompt did not appeal to me or inspire me, so I simply skipped them. I wanted to end the month on a high note though, and today's prompt is asking whether I still live in the place I was born and if not, why did I move. As I mentioned earlier, I was born in Cincinnati, Ohio where many of my relatives still reside. But when I was only a couple of months old, my dad took a job with a new company in Chicago. He had gone on ahead to find a house, so my mom boarded a train headed for Chicago with my sister, age 11, my brother, age 9, my other brother, age 18 months and me, age 2 months. Can you even imagine? I can't. Poor mom! I know my sister was probably a big help, but still! Dad had found a house in a new subdivision, located on a cul de sac. It was a great place for kids! Unfortunately it was also very near O'Hare, so a quiet place it was not. The house also only had two bedrooms, because my dad decided he could finish off the upstairs of the home by himself. In the meantime the four kids shared one bedroom. Eventually dad finished the upstairs into two additional bedrooms, and the boys had one room while the girls took the other.

We lived in Chicago until I was 5, and then my dad accepted a job in Des Moines. This time dad purchased a three bedroom home with a walkout basement. The house was on a dead end street surrounded by cornfields. It was a great spot for kids as well, and we could play kick the can and four square in the street without worrying about cars, and many a baseball game was held at the end of the road just before the cornfield began.

I loved Des Moines and pictured myself staying there. But college graduation and marriage had other places in store for me. I enjoy making trips back there, whether by car or just in my mind.