Happy Labor Day!

My grandfather, Adolf Szerejko, at work sometime in the 1950s.

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette)

Happy Labor Day everyone! Enjoy your day off, and get some rest!


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(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: A Couple of Swells
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Polka Time!
Meditation: The Strength of Ordinary Women

Thinking of Dad on Father's Day

(Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette; Originally posted June 10, 2010) This year is a defining year. I've lived the greater part of my life without my dad than with him. He died unexpectedly a little over 25 years ago on Mother's Day weekend. My dad was a tough man, who lived through some tough times. He had a difficult home life as a child, left home as a teenager to work with the CCCs during the Great Depression, and spent over 20 years in the military, including time in the Pacific theater during World War II. Despite his toughness, one thing I know for sure--he loved me.

I have very few photos of me with my dad. Most of the time he was the one behind the camera taking the photos. I don't know the exact date of the photo above. I'm guessing it was probably my second or third birthday, but I'm not sure. Knowing my mom, she probably put more candles on the cake than there were years in my life just to "dress it up a little." I love this photo because for a tough, serious man, you can see the rare, unguarded joy in his eyes.

It seems so long since my dad died that many of my memories of him are fuzzy. I know he'd be thrilled beyond belief to know he had a grandson. I wish he could be around to play ball with my son or go fishing with him, or tell him about his travels with the navy like he use to tell me, but it's not to be. Writing my blog and posting photos of him helps to jog my memory, to keep his memory alive for myself and for my son.

Happy Father's Day Dad.

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Wordless Wednesday: A Good Catch

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Shore Leave - Wordless Wednesday

The Neatest Private on Guard - Treasure Chest Thursday

Happy Memorial Day!

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette; Originally posted May 26, 2010.) Henry A. Shenette. Photo circa 1950s. Service: U.S. Army 1936-1941; U.S. Navy 1942-1957. Rank: Corporal in the Army; Gunner's Mate, First Class in the Navy. Major Honors: two silver stars; two bronze stars. Thanks Dad!


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(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: World War I Red Cross Volunteers

Happy Mother's Day!

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette)  This is my favorite photo of my mom, Christine (Szerejko) Shenette.


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Wesolego Alleluja! - Happy Easter!

(Original Text, Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette) A vintage Easter card from my collection. 


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Little Kid, Big Bunny - Wordless Wednesday

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette)  Well, at least I look slightly happier than in my birthday photo.  My guess is I'm about two years old in this picture.  I think this photo was taken at the now defunct Denholms department store in downtown Worcester, MA.  We always went to Denholms for pictures with the Easter Bunny and Santa.  I loved Denholms, because they had a revolving door which I thought was the coolest thing ever.  My mom would get so mad at me.  I'd run around and around inside the door, and she couldn't catch up with me.  In this photo I kind of look like I want to bolt off the bunny's lap.  I'm not sure if it's because I'm a little weirded out by the big bunny or I just want to get into that revolving door...

Interestingly, someone has started a blog about Denholms.  Check out the link at here.

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Fascinating Ladies

And The Award Goes To...

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2011 Cynthia Shenette)

Inishbofin, County Galway, Ireland, 1999.


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Wordless Wednesday: Special Delivery

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) This year's list only has three items: Legos, Wii games, and board games. I wish Santa always had it so easy...


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(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Me and My Doll
Amanuensis Monday: Where My Doll Came From

Not So Wordless Wednesday: Me, Our Tree, and Another Doll

(Original Images and Text, Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) I was probably in third grade when these photos were taken. Even with an attempt at retouching the images haven't held up particularly well, but I still love them. What can I tell you about these photos? Well, I know my mom made my dress, because she made almost all of my clothes.

You can see that my doll from Poland which appeared in last week's Wordless Wednesday post has, literally, taken a back seat on the chair behind me. I'm now holding my new doll. My mom made the Polish costume on the new doll, including the little ribboned wreath of flowers on her head. I still have the table and chair shown in the photo. The table is in my basement. I use it for crafts and organizing stuff (or not organizing stuff, as the case may be). The chair is in my front foyer. Unfortunately all the tree ornaments are gone. We lost them in a flood in my mother's basement probably 25 years ago.


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Votes, Awards, and Powerball, Oh My!

Advent Calendar, Gifts: You Bought Me What?

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) A while back my son told me I needed a Snuggie. I am always cold, so when my son saw Snuggies advertised on television he decided that was exactly what I needed. What we all needed. Well, except for the dog. I had to draw the line somewhere, and frankly I didn't think they had one in her size. I bought a purple one for myself, a camouflage one for my husband, and a SpongeBob one for the son. Is it just me or do you not see your "average Joe" hanging out in a duck blind or one of those little ice fishing huts, kicking back a few brews with his buddies in a camo Snuggie?

Against my better judgement, or some might say total lack there of, I have fallen victim to HOLIDAY MARKETING. HOLIDAY MARKETING is why rational people, myself included, buy stuff at Christmas time that they would never consider purchasing at any other time of the year. You know what I'm talking about--Snuggies, soap on a rope, fruitcake, the Pocket Fisherman, fruitcake. You get the idea. And not only do we buy these things for ourselves, but then we give them to other people.

I once remember hearing someone refer to the 1970s as "the decade that taste forgot." As someone who spent her teen years in the 1970s, I have to agree. There were some pretty ridiculous Christmas gifts back then. The 70s brought us the mood ring (got that), the pet rock (got that), the bead curtain (yup, got that), and the lava lamp (didn't get that, but really, really wanted one). Do you remember the Buttoneer? It was a little gizmo that popped buttons onto clothing without a needle and thread. Mom, who was a wonderful seamstress and a sewing perfectionist, wanted and got one for Christmas one year. The Buttoneer was going to make her life easier. No more fussing over buttons. Let's just say the product didn't live up to her expectations. It was about a refined as putting buttons on your disco dress with a staple gun. We gave, and got, our share of fruitcake too.

And what is with all of the clothes and stuff for pets? Christmas hats and antlers for the dog? Even rather staid, conservative L.L. Bean gets into the act. Notice how every year they feature all of those pet products at Christmas time in their catalog? Of course I too have been a victim of L.L. Bean's HOLIDAY MARKETING. Three years ago we got our dog from a rescue society in Arkansas that specializes in placing animals in the New England area. I was concerned that our new dog, a southern girl, would be cold in the winter after being use to the warmer climate in Arkansas. To ward off the chill of our harsh New England winters I bought her a doggie coat for Christmas from Bean's. It's a cute little coat made out of the same sturdy canvas as their barn coats for people. My husband thought I was being ridiculous. I think he was annoyed because the dog got the same coat that he did.

But as far as I'm concerned, that Twelve Days of Christmas thing is the biggest HOLIDAY MARKETING ploy ever. Even bigger than fruitcake. Every year at Christmas someone on a TV news or chat show adds up the cost of all that stuff and figures out would it would cost in today's dollars. Other than the five golden rings, even if you could afford to buy all of that stuff, what's the point? For one thing, who in their right mind would even want all of those birds? Seven swans, six geese, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and don't forget the partridge who started all the trouble. Twenty three birds. After those six geese get done a-laying, what do you get? Either way too many eggs, or worse yet, more birds. Then you've got the drummer's drumming and the piper's piping, and the ladies dancing. No one is working here except for the eight maids a milking, and those lords leaping all over the place are probably distracting the maids from their milking duties anyway. And what the heck are you going to feed all of those people? Dairy products?

On Christmas morn, after all our gifts are open, my family and I will put on our Snuggies and join the "cult of the Snuggie people." As for antlers for the dog, that's just silly. Now, does anyone know where I can get a good deal on a Chia Pet?



Other Posts You Might Like:

Advent Calendar, Food: What the Dickens, Or How to Blow Up a Duck
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Me and My Doll
The Stories My Grandmother Told Me
Advent Calendar: Christmas Cards from Poland and Germany

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Me and My Doll

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) I was probably about six when this photo was taken. The doll was sent to my grandmother to give to me from family in Poland. I never knew who sent it until this year. Check back next week on Amanuensis Monday to find out what I learned about the doll.


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Advent Calendar: Christmas Cards from Poland and Germany

(Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) Here is a sampling of my vintage Christmas cards. The top four cards are from Poland. The last card with the fountain and Christmas tree was sent from post World War II Germany.


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Advent Calendar, Food: What the Dickens, Or How to Blow Up a Duck

(Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) "God Bless Us Everyone," so says Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens' famous tale, A Christmas Carol. A fitting wrap up to a heart-warming story. Feast and food play an important part in the tale--the giant turkey, the plum pudding, the roast goose. I get the warm tingles just thinking about it. But not in a good way...

 I read A Christmas Carol for the very first time in eighth grade English class. Oh, that story made such an impression on me. One of the other English classes, not mine of course, actually got to stage a Dickens-style feast, complete with costumes, in our junior high cafeteria. Why couldn't my class do that? No Salisbury steak, instant mashed potatoes, and gray green beans in the cafeteria that day, but a real honest to goodness Dickens-style feast. I was so jealous.

I must have mentioned my disappointment to my mom. She came up with a brilliant idea. Why couldn't we stage our own Dickens feast right at home? She would make a goose and a couple of the other traditional English dishes for our celebration. Sounds good on paper right?

Well off mom went to the grocery store, but apparently back in the mid-1970s goose was hard to come by in Worcester, MA. No luck on the goose front. She did find a duck though. Mom figured that would be acceptable. I agreed. Mr. Dickens would most heartily approve. So home we went with our duck ready and willing to prepare our feast.

Mom, not knowing anything about duck, decided to prepare the duck the way she usually prepared turkey. This was back in the day when those turkey cooking bags were new to the grocery market. Mom was all for making things easier in the kitchen, so in went the duck, into a cooking bag. Mom also had heard that ducks can be kind of greasy, so she decided to put a trivet underneath the duck, inside the cooking bag so the grease could drip off into the bottom of the pan. Mom tied up the bag, and put the entire bag and it's contents into a pan, and faster than you can say Bleak House, the duck was in the oven. Our Dickens of a feast would be on the table in no time.

There was one fatal flaw in this plan. You knew there had to be one, right? Mom forgot to cut holes in the cooking bag to let steam out. Oops. While the duck was cooking away in the oven I was in the kitchen helping mom to prepare the rest of the meal. All of a sudden boom! An explosion! I looked over to the stove. Through the glass oven door I saw the duck, bag, trivet and all, blow up, hit the top of the oven, and plop back down in the pan! Being the nervous type I went for the kitchen fire extinguisher. Mom, not being the nervous type, told me to put away the fire extinguisher. The duck was fine. I wasn't doing so well.

Later on that evening, we did have our feast. Duck and all. Even after it blew up it turned out fine. I know this may come as a surprise, but we never had duck again. Lesson learned. NEVER forget to cut holes in the cooking bag.

Aah, those warm holiday memories of Christmas Past. Now let me tell you about the time my mom set fire to the turkey...

God Bless Us, Everyone.

Thanksgiving Before We Got the GPS...

(Original Image and Text, Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette)

"Um, Honey...THIS isn't grandmother's house. I said over the river and through the woods. THROUGH the woods."

How DID our ancestors manage?

For a more thoughtful post on Thanksgiving read my post, Reflecting on My American Experience This Thanksgiving.

Now go have that second piece of pumpkin pie. You know you want to...

Happy Thanksgiving from Cynthia at Heritage Zen!


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Reflecting on My American Experience this Thanksgiving

(Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette) I've been thinking about how my son's collective ancestry typifies a large part of what I think of as the American experience, as defined by many of the major events in history since the Pilgrims arrived in Massachusetts in 1620. As a genealogist and family historian, sometimes I think it's easy to look at individuals rather than our ancestry as a sum of many parts.

While my son's ancestors didn't come to America on the Mayflower, they did arrive in Rhode Island in 1633. They survived cold New England winters, disease, and deprivation. They later fought in the American Revolution and as the old saying goes saw the whites of the Red Coat's eyes at Bunker Hill, and after the colonies won their independence, settled along the Mohawk River Valley in New York where they farmed the land for the next two hundred years. As time progressed they watched Scots Irish immigrants come into the area to help construct the the Erie Canal with mule teams and watched factories spring up in the towns and cities that dotted the length of the Mohawk River.

Other ancestors populated Acadia, or Nova Scotia, during the seventeenth century until they were forcibly removed by the British during the Seven Years War or what Americans call the French and Indian War. Some of the ancestors expelled from Acadia eventually ended up in Louisiana, others managed to find their way back to French speaking Canada to resettle in Quebec. During the mid-nineteenth century some made their way to California to seek their fortune during the Gold Rush. Ancestors fought, were wounded, or died of disease during the Civil War. They participated in the battles of the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, and Cold Harbor. After the Civil War ancestors joined the great migration of immigrants from Canada to New England to work in the lumber camps of the Green Mountains and the mills of Massachusetts.

At the end of the nineteenth century another set of ancestors left their homeland in Europe. They left their families--mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters--behind and set off in search of a better life in America. They endured difficult conditions on ship and arrived at Ellis Island with the rest of the "yearning masses" also hoping for a better life in their new land. Immigrant ancestors found their way to the Midwest, to Chicago to work in low wage jobs in the steel industry. When they lost their home due to fire they made their way to Massachusetts to join other family members, also immigrants, in the steel mills. They worked long hours in difficult conditions to pursue the American dream.

During the twentieth century ancestors fought in World War I, World War II, and Korea. When both parents in one family died within two days of one another during the great flu pandemic of 1918, their children were adopted by family to become part of an extended family. Ancestors were affected by the crash of the stock market in 1929 and struggled with varying levels of success through the Great Depression. They participated in the Civilian Conservation Corps and joined the military.

One ancestor served his time in the military in the late 1930s and early 1940s, only to be discharged in November of 1941, eighteen days before the attack on Pearl Harbor. He reenlisted in February of 1942, served in the Pacific theatre, and participated in the battles of Guadalcanal, Iwo Jima, the Marshall Islands, and Okinawa. He survived. Another family member fought with Patton's army in the European theatre. He witnessed the liberation of Buchenwald. After World War II family displaced by the chaos of the war in Europe, lingered in a DP camp for years until they were finally able to make their way to a new life in the United States.

Our ancestors survived war, deprivation, and hardship. They survived childbirth when health care was rudimentary or nonexistent, and during times when mothers knew death from childbirth was an ever-present possibility. They suffered from small pox, rheumatic fever, whooping cough, flu, measles, mumps, and a host of diseases our children, thankfully, will never know. There were bad times, but there were of good times as well. They lived life the best they could given their circumstances. That's four hundred years of history in my son's ancestry. He IS my American experience. That's a lot of weight to carry on those little shoulders.

When you sit down to dinner with your family this Thanksgiving, think about the people that came before you. It doesn't matter if they were French, Irish, Polish, Italian, or African American. It's doesn't matter if they came on the Mayflower or not. They were the ultimate survivors. We are here because of them, and our lives are better because of them. I know I have a lot to be thankful for.

What's your American experience? Take some time to write about it over the next week, and then share it with your family over Thanksgiving dinner. Almost four hundred years of history should give you something to talk about. Now, please pass the gravy...


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Veteran's Day: The Life of a Doughboy, 1918

(Original Images and Text, Copyright (c) 2010 Cynthia Shenette. Keep the Home Fires Burning, by Lena Gilbert Ford, Available Under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License)

These photos were sent from my grandfather Adolf Szerejko to his then girlfriend, my grandmother Antonina (Bulak) Szerejko. My grandfather served in France during World War I.


On the back of the photo: "Augusta, GA 7-2-18"


Written on the train: "Going to GET the Kaiser, Scranton, Pa, US Aviation Section Regulars, Going to Germany to Berlin via France"

On the back of the photo: "Taken at Rocky Mountain South Carolina Adolf"


"Camp Greene, Charlotte, NC."



On the back of the photo: "Those are my friends, front row from left to right J. Coyle (best) J. Erns. Percons. Szerejko At the back Anctile. Moore. Sanders. Four Irish, one French and the last man I don't know his nationality Adolf" The spelling may be off as the handwriting is very difficult to read.



" I'm next."

"Camp Greene, Charlotte N.C."

"Kolacja na "hike" (Dinner on the "hike")"

Written on the back: "What we got ourselves into"

"Camp Greene, Charlotte, NC."


Keep the Home Fires Burning ('Til the Boys Come Home)

Keep the home fires burning,
While your hearts are yearning.
Though your lads are far away,
They dream of home.
There’s a silver lining,
Through the dark cloud shining,
Turn the dark clouds inside out
Till the boys come home.

Thank you veterans for your service. Happy Veteran's Day!


Special Thanks To: Marek for his translation of the Polish into English.


Other Posts You Might Like:

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: WWI Red Cross Volunteers
Tombstone Tuesday: Francois Chenette, Civil War Soldier
Wordless Wednesday: Dad, Somewhere Cold
Tuesday's Tip: "Ask a Librarian" Service at Your Public Library