Sunday Singalong with Circlemending

It’s been awhile since I’ve engaged others in my blog and song selections. I have been thinking of some great songs that go along with the current state of affairs. Now, most people I know have been quarantined with other family members and so have at least one other person with whom to play games, have meals, take a walk, sing songs, etc. Lots of my friends are making masks for various organizations, others are volunteering in a number of ways that allow for social distancing. Of course, in this home you would expect us to be playing music, writing songs (been enjoying a lot of parodies I’ve heard on Facebook), learning a new instrument . . . you know, those types of activities. Since my husband has been ill, he is really not up to playing the saw or singing and, instead, we have both been watching a lot of TV (not necessarily together).

But last night I enjoyed a gathering of a few of us from the Riverside Folk Song Society where we attempted to do some group singing on Zoom. We weren’t terribly effective, but we still had fun and are going to give it another go later this month. Usually our meetings have a theme, but such was not the case this time around. It was especially nice because a couple of our members, who no longer live in the area, were able to join us for the first time in years! The host of the group, Bob Palmer, was able to put up some lyrics and chords so we could try for a group sing . . . that system needs a few tweaks before it will work for us, but I see it as a fun way to learn new songs, among other things. There are a lot of groups like ours – people who enjoy certain types of music or instruments and are connecting with others, thus making sequestering a learning experience (and part of the learning includes the operation of the required technology).

My German Hollanders and Trapschuhs gather around the piano for a singalong Sunday

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

In the past, I put up a weekly blog called “Sunday Singalong.” Now, I’m not promising a weekly theme, but I hope to get back into this and, at least for the next few weeks – maybe longer – there is plenty of time to seek out a song you remember from childhood, one that you enjoy singing with friends or by yourself, or a favorite piece by a favored artist whose YouTube® performance can be shared here with others. So put on your thinking caps and for this Singalong Sunday (add the song any day this week), our theme is (aptly), SOLITUDE. The song need not contain that word, but should convey that feeling, though it may be a personal connotation – and do share the song meaning or history in your life, if you’ve a mind to. Ideally, include lyrics or a video or audio recording so others can enjoy it too.

SOLITUDE: The first to come to my mind is “I Love to Go A-Wandering” or "The Happy Wanderer" – I remember singing it at camp (don’t ask what year or which one, but I think we sang it in Brownies, too). Now, I, personally, am not prone to go a-wandering (where I live, snakes give me pause and my wandering, these days, tends to be around my own yard, and close to the house, but with eyes still on the ground and never with ear buds to listen to music – can’t hear that distinctive rattle that way). 

Maybe one reason it sticks with me is that it has a German origin, as do I (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Happy_Wanderer). The picture (and I’ve found this song in various music books, with exactly the picture I first conjured up when the piece was taught to me) of a lone person walking with a walking stick (no doubt to help keep the snakes away) heading uphill, wearing a backpack (of course), with mountains and trees in the background. I’m not a big fan of backpacks, unless they have wheels, the required equipment for almost every container I transport  . . . but “. . . along the mountain track, . . . my wheely cart by my side . . . “ not only doesn’t rhyme, but removes that picture from the song. But, I confess, in my mind’s eye I don’t picture that hiker as an almost 69-year-old woman! Now, that is an image!

(public domain; stock photo)

Here are some YouTube videos of the song (which, while speaking of solitude, seems to be sung by groups! Go figure).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVcJIMhmGys (some of the people in this one are wandering on bicycles - not following the song concept at all!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_QJi7wVENE (in German, as my ancestors would have sung it?)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuT3MvLJtLI (some great instrumental accompaniment)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qJRlUy2Axw (Finally! Primarily a solo - with a full band and echo chorus keeping him company)

What’s your song of SOLITUDE?

My Guardian Angel Worked Overtime: Emptying an Old House is No Picnic - by Virginia Johnson Wilcox

As promised, I am posting here the transcription of my mother's unpublished story about clearing out the old family home in Milwaukee. Some names have been changed (by her). This was originally written as a "homework" assignment for the Off Campus Writer's Workshop (est. 1946) in Winnetka, Illinois and was reviewed by author Len Hilts.

We were eating dinner the night of Saturday, January 9, 1960 when the long dreaded phone call came.

"Aunt May is acting strangely," my mother said. "She sings, laughs, and piles blankets on herself. I think it's mental."

"Have you call the doctor?" I asked.

"You know she doesn't like doctors."

"I'll be there tomorrow morning."

As I packed my bag for the trip to Milwaukee, I wondered how I'd proceed. I had worried about such a situation long before mother and my maiden aunt reached their 80s. Now I had to travel the unknown road alone – without a map. And there was no room for sentiment.

So the next morning I bade goodbye to my husband and two children. "It's just possible I may be bringing Grandma home with me," I said, as I boarded the early train.

When I arrived at the old family home, Aunt May grabbed me and hung on like a frightened child. I didn't want to cause her unhappiness, but I knew there was no choice. I called the doctor.

He arrived a short time later, examined Aunt May, and said to me, "get her to the hospital right away. I'll make arrangements to get her into a nursing home later. And you," he turned to Mother, "go home with your daughter."

I said a little prayer of thanks: my aunt's hospitalization insurance, that I had insisted upon her taking out, had been in effect for one month to the day.

With the help of a relative, we got Mother's and Aunt May's bags packed, Aunt May to the hospital, and Mother and me to the railroad station for our trip home, in a Chicago suburb.

Mother quickly adapted to her new surroundings and was made welcome by family and friends. She was very happy. Now I could to get going on the nitty-gritty.

Word from the doctor indicated that Aunt May would have to spend the rest of her life in a nursing home. Therefore I would, of course, have to sell the Milwaukee house and almost everything in it. But I had no authority to sell anything. The house and most of its furnishings belonged to Aunt May.

First item on the agenda: get  guardianship of Aunt May. This I did through the help of my attorney-cousin, Bob. "I'll do my best to speed it through," he said.

On my next trip to Milwaukee I consulted a real estate agent mother knew and asked him to handle the sale of the house for me. "Do you want to dream or be a realistic?" He asked after he had looked it over.

"I can't afford to dream," I replied. "I need the money to pay medical and nursing home bills for my aunt."

So he quoted a price – 'way below what I could have got for such a house on the North Shore – and I agreed to it. Since I had no idea how much insurance Aunt May carried on the house I told him to buy enough to cover, and to include theft and vandalism, as the place was going to remain vacant for a while.

There were numerous things I had to do before anything could be sold. Such details as mail and newspaper deliveries, arrangements for snow shoveling, changing of bank accounts, and endless minutia required hours of concerted effort. Some things I could do from home, but most had to be done in Milwaukee.

Then came the contents. I had tried taking Mother up with me to make decisions regarding her personal property, but she became too emotional to be of any help, and I realized I'd have to handle things all alone.

Well, not quite alone, as a friend from Chicago went up with me on two occasions. I don't know what I would have done without Dotty. She helped me take things down from the attic, cleaned the silverware, washed dishes, prepared things for sale. Much that I would have thrown away she eagerly took for a resale shop she was interested in.

For her endless work that relieved me of so much I thank both her and my Guardian Angel.

There wasn't a box, bag, envelope, or any other container that did not require opening and a decision made as to its contents. Money I found in many places, including an old sock in Aunt May's dresser drawer. In the attic was a box of about 400 pennies. (After taking out the Eagles and Indian-heads I sold the rest to an interested neighbor.) What in the world Aunt May was doing with a pistol I'm sure I don't know, but I found it on the top shelf of her closet. (Bob took that off my hands; he said it was frozen beyond repair.) Her diamond ring was in a little envelope in a dresser drawer.

And old clothes! The attic was full of them. I hated to throw them out, but I didn't know what else to do. Then I remembered: before I was married I had been involved in dramatic activities and got to know the local costumer quite well. I called him, and he came over and looked at everything I had to offer. In the attic he discovered other items he could use. He was delighted and paid me well for everything he took.

My Guardian Angel was still at work.

The Yellow Pages of the phone directory revealed several used book dealers. I called them and found one who was interested in Civil War books. He came over and brought several; my grandfather had been a Union Army volunteer. Others came and took a few books here, a few there. Then one man bought all the rest for a ridiculously low sum. But I had to get rid of them.

I almost wept when the little girl from next-door came in and bought my grandmother's marvelous old treadle Singer sewing machine, in many ways far superior to new machines of the day. And she paid only five dollars for it.

I am eternally grateful to the many friends who entertained me at dinner and helped me in various ways. "Why don't you get to Mr. Dobson, the antique dealer, to take over for you?" One of them asked me. "He sells households of furnishings all the time."

So I called him. After he had looked through the entire house he said he wasn't interested. But Gertrude, his assistant, upon learning of his refusal, came over the next day and went through the house including the full – and I do mean FULL – attic and basement. She shook her head sadly and said, "You need help. And I'm going to help you."

I thanked my Guardian Angel again.

Perhaps she and I could put on a house sale, Gertrude suggested. I dreaded the prospect of that, but agreed to it. I felt I had a no alternative. It turned out in the end that she found a man, Mr. Edwards, who was willing to manage the whole affair for me.

He came and looked over what I had to offer. He bought a number of items on the spot. Then he said, "There are two ways of handling this. Either I'll take one third of what we get, and you clean up the house, or we split it down in the middle, and I'll take care of everything." Needless to say, I chose the latter arrangement. "But first," he added, "you take whatever you want for yourself and sell things as you can. You will be able to get more for them than I can. Then let me know when you're ready and I'll take over."

This time I really thanked my Guardian Angel.

Weeks turned to months, and I was still making biweekly trips to Milwaukee. And the snow fell whenever it had a mind to. On one occasion it was coming down so thick and fast that, even though I shoveled off the porch at seven in the morning, two hours later, when I wanted to leave for home, I had to do it all over again. To protect myself from the weather I decided to forgo normal dress for the trip, found an old pair of Dad's trousers, put them on over my dress, and, looking like a tramp, walked a block to the bus line. I saw some buses moving, but not in my direction; they never seemed to come back. I spotted a cab and, with several other people, hailed it. We were well packed in by the time we got downtown. I went farther than any of the others, but I'm sure we all paid the same fair. (That driver must have made a bundle that day.)

In spite of the drawbacks of the weather, I swear my guardian angel was looking out for me.

The time came and when I was satisfied that I had taken care of everything I could; I left of the rest in the hands of Mr. Edwards. Finally, on May 12, along with my attorney cousin, I went to the closing of the sale of the property. It had been four months since that nightmare began.

My guardian angel could do now rest for a while.

(This is how the Milwaukee Journal recorded the final sale information - many irreplaceable family relics left the hands of the generations of Johnsons, Hollanders, and Trapschuhs; but as the story related by my mother indicates: the hard decisions had to be made.)

The Grand Rant

OK, I've been planning this post for a long time, and just delayed it. But it's time (mostly because I have a few minutes).

To begin: there is no such thing as a great-aunt or great-uncle, great-niece or great-nephew. Never has been, not likely ever to be so. This is not like "there is no such thing as Santa Claus" . . . because, well, of course there is! This has to do with basic logic. Some will say semantics. OK, I'll accept the latter; but aren't most arguments born of some semantic issue ("you say NEETHER, I say NI-THER")?

When I was about five or six I figured this out. You see, I have no aunts or uncles and, therefore, no first cousins. Sigh. I have been deprived. (Not really: I have amazing second, third, fourth, etc. cousins who more than make up for the deficit of first ones.) Anyway, I remember the conversation as though it was yesterday (instead of nearly 60 years ago). We were in my bedroom at the cottage, owned by my maternal grandmother.

Grandma - Emma Hollander Johnson

My maternal grandfather had passed away before I was born and my grandmother and her sister (my mother's "maiden aunt" - a nice way of saying "spinster") lived together in Milwaukee (in the aunt's house) and vacationed in the cottage on a lake near Hartland, Wisconsin (in grandma's house). My mother called her aunt "Aunt Mamie." I called her aunt "Aunt Mamie." This was fitting: her name was Mary Eva, but everyone called her Mamie. It worked. (FYI, she was nothing like "Auntie Mame" of Broadway fame . . . ah, would that she had been.) I never cared a great deal for her, but that is irrelevant to this story.

Mary Eva (Mamie) Hollander

OK, so there I was, with little education, but some general understanding of relationships. I knew that Grandma was my mother's mom. So I asked Mom why we both called Grandma's side-kick (I didn't use that word) "Aunt Mamie." I had friends who had aunts (something I knew I didn't have) and those people were called "Aunt So-and-so." I also had friends who called their parents' close friends "Aunt So-and-so" and "Uncle Whatshisname," even though they were not related. Was that the situation with Aunt Mamie? My mother assured me that Aunt Mamie was her bona fide (she didn't use that term) aunt, but that she was my "great-aunt." I was confused.

"Aunt Mamie is Grandma's sister, so she is MY aunt, but your great-aunt." I asked what that made me and she said I was Mamie's "grandniece."

Now, even at that young age I knew something wasn't right. My mother had told me stories of her grandfather, who was my great-grandfather, so I knew that "great-" took it to the next generation back, even if I couldn't explain that with my limited vocabulary. If Mamie was my grandmother's sister, wouldn't that make her my grandaunt?

The simple answer is: YES!

And that Mom said I was Aunt Mamie's grandniece while she was my great-aunt just felt very wrong. But it took a number of years to figure our something my 5- or 6-year-old mind couldn't grasp: Mom was wrong! (The horror of that discovery.) Indeed, I was Aunt Mamie's grandniece, and she was MY grandaunt.

As soon as we let the term "great-aunt" or "great-uncle" enter into our genealogy, we start to confuse the generations. This became exceedingly evident recently when I was doing background research for a television show. One of the producers wanted to use that term and it immediately created a generational misunderstanding for the living relative. It took me some doing (and un-teaching of an incorrect concept) to help them get the terminology accurate. I succeeded (well, I think I did; the show has yet to air, and probably won't, as it appears now). At least THAT person got it (but you know what happens next - she explains the relationship to person #2, who shares it with person #3, who explains it to person #4, who presents it to the target individual and it is anyone's guess what will actually be told. And, for some reason, people don't like the sound of grandaunt. They think great-aunt sounds better. Well, um, that is not what makes relationships.

A friend once told me that, when she was growing up, she was taught that 1st cousin once removed is the same thing as 2nd cousin. Ah . . . NO! Not even slightly. We are talking different generations there. And when people confuse "great" with "grand," we run the risk of losing (or gaining) a generation in that case, too.

So, pardon my GRAND rant, but it needed to be said. NOW I can go on to more important matters (such as "alright" is not a word . . . it's two: all right; same with a lot). Whew. 'Nough said.

Treasure Chest Thursday - Card Carried by Charles Lindbergh

"Miss M. Hollander" was my grand-aunt, Mary (Maria) Eva (AKA Mamie) Hollander.
What the circumstances were behind the acquisition of this card, I have no idea. It was among the Hollander estate items that ended up filtering down to me.

Saturday Night Genealogy Fun - Mom's mom's mom's mom

In honor of mother's day, I am responding to Randy Seaver's challenge to identify my matrilineal line. This is fairly easy for me as these special people dwell in my heart and their identities are noted in my mind (but I do have to check the pedigree to get the exact dates for all the events).



My mother was Virginia Marie Johnson Wilcox, b: 24 August 1911, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin; d: 24 June 1994, Evanston, Cook, Illinois

A significant time in her life: She essentially single-handedly cleaned out 4 homes of relatives when they either died or were no longer able to live in their houses; she handled every detail and kept meticulous records of all the items and experiences, aided by the fact that she kept a daily diary for most of her adult life (the last entry was 4 days before her unexpected death and 1 day before she slipped into a coma).

Her mother was



Emma Marie Hollander Johnson, b: 9 August 1873, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin; d: 10 September 1964, Glenview, Cook, Illinois

A significant time in her life: When her father lost his sight, Emma maintained the records of the family home and the business, orchestrating the necessary tasks to supervise the building of a new house, shortly after losing her fiance to death.

Her mother was



Caroline (Carrie) Maria Trapschuh Hollander, b: 16 December 1844, Belin, Bohemia, Austria; d: Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

A significant time in her life: After meeting her future husband, saying "goodbye" to him as he went off to serve in the Civil War. He returned to her and they made a life together, but she ended up nursing him after he went blind in later life.

Her mother was


Maria (Mary) Theresa Knoetgen Trapschuh, b: 23 February 1816, Bohemia, Austria; d: 18 April 1899, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

A significant time in her life: Leaving Bohemia and her family in Teplitz to make a life in America with her husband, a cabinet maker, and children; the voyage lasted nearly 3 months and the passengers on the small whaling brig had to resort to eating potato peelings to stay alive. Though she watched the burial at sea of many fellow passengers, Mary lost none of her 5 children that also made the trip (3 more were born in America).

The mitochondrial DNA has clarified that my roots lie in the Czech Republic (no surprise there). What the DNA does not show: the strength that these women possessed and, hopefully, passed on to me.

Tombstone Tuesday - 23 March 2010

Louis David MEYER, Jr., b: 6 March 1863, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin; d: 28 March 1909 (101 years ago next week), Wauwatosa, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

He was my 1st cousin, twice removed. His mother (Maria Eva HOLLANDER MEYER) was my great-grandfather's sister and was the reason my great-grandfather (John Adam HOLLANDER) moved to the US and then to Milwaukee. She was an integral part of my existence. I knew the Meyer family members (Louis's daughter and my mother were very close . . . I have fond memories of meeting her when I was a young girl).

Treasure Chest Thursday - 18 February 2010

The banjo I am playing (at the San Diego Genealogical Society January seminar this year) belonged to my great-grandmother, Caroline Trapschuh Hollander (though I suspect it was really her son, my grand-uncle Albert Hollander, who played it). It was reconditioned a couple of years ago, sounds great & looks wonderful! It's the banjo I learned on back in the 1960s, but was relegated to the wall (as a decoration) when pieces of the fingerboard started to crack and come off.

A couple of years ago a friend of mine was over, checked it out, and discovered it to be an 1889 Fairbanks & Cole parlor banjo. He talked me into having it repaired and I sent it to a banjo genius, Vern Marr, in Oregon. He used the original parts of the neck to bring it back to playing capability, replaced the skin, replaced the inlays, put in tuning machines that look vintage but are actually amazingly efficient 21st Century replicas, and strung it with light gauge strings (it originally had gut strings, but an attempt to use nylon - today's replacement for gut - left it sounding dead; the steel strings give it a bright sound).

I treasure this piece of my family's history and only wish I knew more about the people who played it before it fell into my hands (thanks to my mother's insistence on not throwing anything - especially musical instruments - away).


I'll have it with me at the St. George Family History Expo, coming up next week!

Treasure Chest Thursday - 14 January 2010

In December, I posted a photo of my grandfather's deer head, he had mounted over a fireplace at his cottage at Beaver Lake, near Hartland, Wisconsin (click on the words "dear head" to read that explanation). Here is the fireplace, prior to its being adorned by said dear head.

"Why is this a treasure?" You might ask. Well, as you can see in the photo, there are a number of artifacts. And, as I have mentioned before, my family had no idea what a wastebasket was (note: there is no such object in the photo). At the far end of the fireplace, hanging from the mantel, you can see a set of 3 Chinese dinner gongs. Those are now hanging in my kitchen (though the string and bottom tassel have long since been replaced). Above the doorway at the far back in the photo is a picture of a bulldog. That picture now hangs next to my back door. In the foreground, also hanging from the mantel, is a strange sword - it's made of Oriental coins, tied tightly together. I have no idea whose it was (in the family) or how it was acquired, but it is now part of my brother's treasures (one of the few things he claimed from the family collections). Other items in the photo met fates unknown long before I showed up on the scene . . . well, maybe my ancestors did know what a wastebasket was after all.

Cottage was designed and owned by Hans Peter JOHNSON and his wife, Emma Marie HOLLANDER; rocks that were used in the construction of the fireplace were quarried from a nearby location. This photo was taken about 1920. I was back to visit the place about 16 years ago, after my Mom died, and I could not recognize the outside or the yard, but the folks living there now let me in to see what they've done with the inside - it's beautiful - and I recognized the fireplace: still there, still solid (no deer head, of course), and still bringing me fond memories.

Treasure Chest Thursday - 7 January 2010

As I have said before, my family was never one to use a wastebasket, so I have all sorts of ephemera that the neighbors of my Wisconsin families probably threw out right after the holidays. Not so in the Hollander, Johnson, and Trapschuh homes: they kept the holiday magazines that now I use as part of my Christmas decorations. This year, very few decorations went up due to illnesses in our home, but I did display the books and magazines from holidays past (most, long, long passed). But now, with 12th night behind us, I must pack them away for a season . . . but I'll haul them out next year and the year after that, etc., enjoying the look into lives that, to some, were simpler than ours (I don't necessarily agree: I love my dishwasher, washing machine, computer, automobile, etc.). So here's one last look at a holiday favorite from 110 years (and one month) ago.

Tombstone Tuesday, 17 November 2009

My granduncle, brother of my grandmother:
Francis Adam (Frank) HOLLANDER, born: 18 May 1875, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin;
christened: 4 July 1875, St. Mary's Catholic Church, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Valhalla Cemetery (photo taken 1 June 2006)

Frank A. HOLLANDER, died: 16 November 1926 (83 years ago yesterday); buried 19 November 1926, Valhalla Cemetery, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Treasure Chest Thursday - Civil War Memories

Memories of the Civil War and the companionship of Charles John TRAPSCHUH (Wisconsin 26th Reg) and John Adam HOLLANDER (Wisconsin 24th Reg): GAR medal, reunion encampment song book, 26th Regiment souvenir ribbon, and 24th Regiment 50th reunion banquet program.

Wordless Wednesday, 16 Sept 2009

Emma Marie HOLLANDER JOHNSON
b: 9 August 1873, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin
d: 10 September 1964, Glenview, Cook, Illinois

My maternal grandmother. Love you, Grandma!

Wordless Wednesday, 2 September 2009 - The Hollander girls

Mamie & Emma Hollander, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Tombstone Tuesday, 1 September 2009 - Aunt Mamie

Mary Eva Hollander was christened Maria Eva, named for her paternal aunt, Maria Eva Hollaender Meyer (from Edesheim, Bavaria, Germany). She never married. Throughout her life she knew many suitors, but none was good enough (but she always kept the jewelry they gave her). Instead, she devoted her life to taking care of her parents and handling the family business - Hollander's Human Hair Emporium. She and her older sister, Emma, were inseparable in their younger years and then, again, after Emma's husband died. Mary Eva, known as Mamie to her friends and family, was close to Emma's daughter and her family and I remember Aunt Mamie as being one of the people who was a major character in my growing up. I still remember her listening to her beloved Milwaukee Braves (radio broadcasts of the games) and enjoying a beer (one of Milwaukee's products, of course).

b: 12 December 1877, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin (christened in St. Mary's Catholic Church, 10 February 1878, Milwaukee; Mary Eva Hollaender Meyer was her godmother) and d: 28 August 1964, Wauwatosa, Milwaukee, Wisconsin (buried in Forest Home Cemetery, 8 September 1964, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin).

Wordless Wednesday, 12 Aug 2009

To give faces to stones, following yesterday's Warnke/Hollander/Vallee family resting places, here are Alonzo (Lou) Vallee (5th from the left, standing) & his second wife, Anna Hedwig (Hattie) Hollander Warnke Vallee (1st on the right, sitting) celebrating Thanksgiving 1947 in Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Tombstone Tuesday, 11 August 2009

FOREST HOME CEMETERY, MILWAUKEE, MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN
HOLLANDER PLOT

"Aunt Hattie" (Anna Hedwig Hollander) married Edward Warnke in 1892. They had one son - Gordon - and a long life together. Edward died 10 September 1939, while traveling in Minnesota from their Wisconsin home.

Edward Warnke's sister, Emma, had married Alonzo (Lou) Vallee and they also made their home in Wisconsin, near the Hollanders in Milwaukee. Emma died 25 May 1939, preceding her brother in death by almost four months.

Following the deaths of their spouses, Lou Vallee and Hattie Hollander Warnke decided to "keep it in the family" and married each other (with the blessings of the family members), having almost 10 years together until Lou's death in 1949.


While the initial graves were arranged in two separate plots (one Warnke, one Vallee), it was decided to move the "group" together. When Hattie died in 1961, she was placed with her two husbands, along with her sister-in-law, in the Hollander plot in Forest Home Cemetery, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with Hattie's parents - Adam & Carrie Hollander - and her sister - Maria Eva (Mamie) Hollander.


The order & tombstone engravings of the Warnke/Vallee graves would lead one to wonder who these people were and how they were related to each other. But now you know!

From left to right:

Edward Henry Warnke; b: 21 March 1867/1868, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA; d: 10 September 1939, St. Paul, Ramsey, Minnesota, USA

Anna Hedwig (Hattie) Hollander; b: 13 June 1869, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA; d: 26 August 1961, Wauwatosa, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA

Alonzo F. (Lou) Vallee; b: 10 January 1867, Fond du Lac, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, USA; d: 28 November 1949, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA

Emma M. Warnke, b: 17 August 1869, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA; d: 25 May 1939, Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA

Family Music at the Family History Expo in Utah

What did your ancestors do with music? Did they play instruments? Did they sing? Did they attend local concerts, such as the local band in the park? Maybe one of your ancestors taught other people how to play an instrument?

My granduncle, C. Harrison Hollander, played the piano-forte (piano) and absolutely loved music. He composed a few pieces and became the manager for an opera singer, Charlotte Peege, whom he later married. They lived in New York and Boston, where Charlotte could continue her career and where Harrison worked as a music critic, among other music-related jobs. Eventually they retired to Winter Park, Florida where they designed their own home, creating a huge living room with, as the focal point, a resident grand piano. They would host music gatherings and friends would fill the home as audience to Harrison on the piano and Charlotte "on" the voice.

I wonder if some of that behavior of having music in the home filtered down to me. Our house parties almost always include a number of musicians - playing guitars, banjos, autoharps, mandolins, fiddles, dulcimers, etc. - taking turns playing solo pieces or leading the whole group in singalongs. We can't imagine any other way of entertaining (and our neighbors frequently come by for a free concert).

If you would like to see a sample of this sort of activity, come to Sandy, Utah the last weekend of August. Butch & I will have a booth in the exhibit hall (#621 - way off in the corner where we can make noise & not disturb others) where we will have short demonstrations of the music of our ancestors. Also, on Sat. at 2:30, we will be doing an hour program on the music of the Mormon Pioneers called "To Zion in Song" (I'll write more about that next week).

But there is a lot of great stuff planned for the Family History Expo in Sandy, Utah ... check it out at:

Wordless Wednesday, 22 July 2009

Hattie, Emma, Frank, & Albert Hollander (children of Adam and Carrie Trapschuh Hollander), Milwaukee, Wisconsin, ca. 1879

Mamie, Hattie, & Emma Hollander, Beaver Lake (near Hartland), Wisconsin, ca. 1917