Joseph & Lillian

Feb16

Now that I’m refocused on the genealogy of my mother’s side of the family, I think it’s a good time to introduce Joseph & Lillian (Boicourt) Layton. Joseph & Lillian are my great great grandparents. Lillian is the reason I am a little bit French.

Lillian Boicourt was born 19 November 1862 in Sardinia, Decatur County, Indiana, a daughter of Vermillion & Sarah Elizabeth (Gentry) Boicourt. Joseph Hammond Layton was born 27 September 1859 in Indiana.

This tintype of Joseph, taken shortly before his death, is the only photo we have of him. We do not have any photos of Lillian, or any of the children other than Charles. If you are a descendent of this family with photos, please contact me!

Joseph & Lillian were married 29 March 1882 in Jennings County, Indiana. They had two daughters before they moved to Minneapolis, Ottawa County, Kansas in 1885, where they had five more children. Their sixth child was my great grandfather, Charles Layton.

Joseph and Lillian probably traveled to Kansas with Joseph’s brother, Hiram, and his wife Martha. Census records show that Hiram and Martha didn’t settle in Kansas for long – they continued on to Colorado. Joseph and Lillian, however, returned to Indiana in 1894. Just before Lillian gave birth to her tenth child, Joseph died of typhoid on 8 December 1900 in Westport, Indiana.

Greensburg New Era, 13 Dec 1900

On 12 September 1905, Lillian married Colonel G. Lamar, also a widower. They had a daughter, Lulu Viola, in 1907. At some point, Colonel apparently left Lillian. She applied for publication of a non-residence notice, and on 8 July 1919, she was granted a divorce and custody of Lulu. She was ordered by the court not to remarry within two years. In 1920, Colonel showed up on the census in Kansas, living with his son, William M. Lamar.

Lillian died 6 January 1947. She was buried in Westport Cemetery.

Greensburg Daily News, 6 January 1947

Greensburg Daily News, 7 January 1947

Children of Joseph & Lillian:

Estella May
29 May 1883 – 9 November 1900
Estella died in Westport, Indiana at age 17. She was buried in Westport Cemetery.

Lora Lilas (Stearns)
13 January 1885 – 28 July 1949

8 February 1885, The Decatur News (Freedonia)

Lora married Frank Ernest Stearns 28 March 1907 at Vernon, Jennings County, Indiana. They lived in Jennings County and Jackson County (Seymour). Lora and Frank had six children: Glen,  Mildred (McClellan), Leslie, Mary (Hodnett), Archie, and Robert. Lora was buried in Westport Cemetery.

Greensburg Daily News, 30 July 1949

Clarence Elvin
26 January 1886 – 28 December 1896
Clarence was born shortly after the Laytons moved to Kansas. He died at age 10 after the move back to Indiana. His obituary in Greensburg’s New Era, 1 January 1896, read: “Clarence Layton, of Westport, aged about nine years died Saturday of brain trouble.” He was buried in the Baptist Church cemetery.

Wilbur Leslie
11 June 1888 – 28 May 1958
Wilbur married Goldie Anderson 20 February 1910 in Decatur County, Indiana. They moved to Muncie, Indiana, where Wilbur was employed as a Gear Cutter, and they later moved to Shelbyville, Indiana, where Wilbur was a farmer. They had five children: Lillian (Nail), Chester, Elma Louise (Brown), Vera (Clapp), and Phyllis (Wilson). After Goldie’s death in 1943, Wilbur married Ova Anderson, and they lived in New Castle. Wilbur died in Henry County after a cerebral hemorrhage. He was buried in Miller Cemetery, New Castle, Indiana.

Carrie Isabelle (Borgstede)
26 January 1890 – 27 May 1968
Carrie was born  in Ottawa County, Kansas. She married John Lewis Borgstede (b. 9 January 1881, Ripley County) on 23 August 1907 in Decatur County, Indiana. They had three children: Gladys, Merlynn, and Janice (Low). They lived in North Dakota and Muncie (Delaware County) before they eventually returned to Westport, Decatur County, where John worked at an auto parts factory.

Charles
29 July 1891 – 7 July 1965
Charles was born in Kansas. He married Hazel McKinley 26 December 1911 in Boone County, Indiana. They had four boys: Max, Dow, Joe, and Don. I wrote about Charles and his family in a previous post.

Greensburg Daily News, 7 July 1965

Roy Boicourt
6 September 1893 – 5 May 1959
Roy was born in Ottawa County, Kansas. He served in WWI and married Inez Loreen Huntington in 1923. They had two children: Ruth (Stephenson) & Lois (Hiday), and lived in Anderson where he worked for the Anderson Municipal Electric Plant. He was buried in Memorial Park Cemetery in Anderson.

Anderson Daily Bulletin, 6 May 1959

Elma Marie (Tumulty)
28 October 1895 – 15 April 1972
Elma was born in Decatur County, Indiana. She married Edwin William Tumulty 10 August 1916 in Decatur County, Indiana. They moved to Anderson, Indiana, where they lived the rest of their lives. They had two daughters, Phyllis (Johnson) & Donna (Jennings). She was buried in Memorial Park Cemetery in Anderson.

Franklin Lester
10 September 1898 – 28 March 1958
Frank was born in Decatur County, Indiana. He married Mary Leota Beach in 1923. They had two children: Paul & Frank, and lived in Anderson. Frank was the proprietor of a service station for 21 years, then worked at Brown Electric Company. He was buried in Memorial Park Cemetery in Anderson.

Anderson Daily Bulletin, 29 March 1958

Earl Joseph
6 January 1901 – 4 February 1965
Lillian gave birth to Earl 29 days after her Joseph’s death. He married Marietta M. Hessler in North Vernon, Jennings County, on 5 December 1936. They had four children: Betty (Gatewood), Norman Joseph, James Earl, and Helen Catharine (Graue). Earl was buried in Westport Cemetery.

Greensburg Daily News, 4 February 1965

Liebster Blog

Feb11

Mary at Trusty Chucks is awesome. She recently gave me a Liebster Blog Award.

Trusty Chucks

I’ve known Mary pretty much forever, and I wrote a guest post for her around Christmastime last year. I read her blog every day. She writes honestly about her life and the things she loves. I particularly enjoy reading about the work she and her husband do on their 1952 bungalow, and I loved her Week of Fancy!

Rules of the Liebster Blog Award are that you pass it along to five other blogs with followers under 200. Finding blogs with followers under 200 is actually pretty hard. I found it to be pretty much impossible, and actually decided to just ignore that rule altogether. I don’t think The Academy will mind.

1. Bee Haven Acres
This is my favorite blog at the moment. Beverly grew up in the suburbs and made her way to the country, just like me. I love reading about her farm adventures, and seeing pictures of her many animals. She makes my dream seem possible.

2. Farm Folly
This blog is by a young couple who bought a farm house in Oregon and have spent the past couple years working on it. Another inspiring farm blog for newbies like me.

3. 1888 Diary of Minnie LeCraw
 For genealogists, it’s very frustrating that some of the most interesting primary sources are locked up in people’s attics, rotting away. That’s why I love the 1888 Diary of Minnie LeCraw. Minnie was a school teacher born in 1866. The blogger is not ready to party with the diary of her ancestor, but she’s aware that it is a valuable resource not just for her family, but for many families like hers. This is a great way to share your family’s history and help others understand their own.

From the blog: “The diary has been passed down through the generations, giving many people a glimpse into small Midwest town life in the late 19th Century.”

4. Forgotten Old Photos
This blogger buys old photos at antique shops and garage sales, researches them, and is sometimes able to re-unite them with their families. If any of my family’s photos from long ago end up for sale, I hope they find their way to this blogger.

5. Forgotten Faces and Long Ago Places
“A collection of vintage photography and “orphan” photographs showcasing the past.” I can’t get enough of old photos – especially cabinet cards! Teresa has a beautiful collection.
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By the way, I’m struggling with my blog’s theme right now. I’m trying this one out, but I’m not sure I can handle all this pink.

Land Love

Feb3

A little bit French is suffering an identity crisis. Over these past months, I’ve changed the sub-head on this blog so many times I’ve lost count. What is this about? Genealogy? Local history? Family farms? Historic preservation? Chickens?

I’ve been thinking this over for a while now, and I have decided that I’ve outgrown A little bit French.

So much in my life has changed since I started this blog last May. I still enjoy sharing my genealogy and local history adventures, but I also need a place dedicated solely to celebrating my progress and admitting my mistakes as I attempt to rebuild this Historic Hoosier Homestead. So, from now on, my farm adventures will move to a new home: www.landlove.wordpress.com. I will continue to blog at A little bit French, but it will strictly be a genealogy blog – what it was meant to be from the beginning. Specifically, it will be about my mother’s family since it is through her Great Grandmother Lillian (Boicourt) Layton that I am a little bit French.

Some of you may have noticed that starting this blog was really just a way for me to cope with a broken heart. For a while, A little bit French gave me a purpose when I felt I no longer had one. The decision to share some of my writing, for the first time in many years, was a big step for me. To everyone who has read, commented, liked, emailed, or subscribed, you cannot know what your gestures of support have meant to me, and how they have helped me to heal. This has been much more than a blog to me. It has been a way to work through my grief and to move on. Thank you for being a part of this difficult journey with me.

And now, onward, to new adventures!

Margaret & Kay Ewing

Bawk.

Jan3

On December 31, 2011, we brought chickens back to the farm.

I have a bad habit of over-researching things, and in the process I talk myself out of doing anything, ever. This year, I’m resolving to actually do some of the things on my to do lists. So, when I found a Craigslist ad for 2 coops, 8 hens, and all the supplies I need to start raising chickens, I decided to just go for it – even if New Year’s Eve is not the ideal moment to embark on this endeavor.

Dad and I stopped in New Pal for a sandwich and a golden opportunity to scare his neighbors.

This was a great way for me to get started. I was too busy (watching Saved By the Bell and eating cookies) to get involved in 4-H when I was a kid, so I was shocked to discover that there are over 100 different chicken breeds.  I had no idea how to decide which one to buy.

I was tempted to start with the highly impractical Silkie breed. I'm sure you can understand why. (Photo from http://www.backyardchickens.com)

The chickens for sale were all Rhode Island Reds. As it turns out, this is one of the hardy breeds my Great Grandfather used to raise on the farm. He also raised Plymouth Rocks. My grandmother says she remembers training them to follow her around. [Note: the following day, she told me that it is impossible to train chickens. She's pretty old.]

A guy came out today to mark the utility lines so I can put up a fence. As he kicked the snow out of his way, he said, "You know, you picked the wrong time of year to do this."

The past three days have been quite an adventure. We had some crazy wind, a bit of snow, and some very cold temperatures. I’ve  read all kinds of books in preparation for this, but I think the easiest way to figure out how to take care of chickens is to just get some. They’ll tell you what to do. Today, I spent some time hanging out with them, feeding them scratch grain (chicken candy), and trying to learn their language. They still don’t seem to trust me. They must not realize I haven’t eaten chicken in 14 years.

The hen in the middle seems to be calling the shots. She has the biggest comb.

I’m having fun with my new buddies. This old homestead is starting to look, sound, and feel more like a farm every day. Thank you so much, everyone who helped me get these girls moved and settled in their new home (on a holiday!): Marie & Dawn, Dad, Natalie & Trevor, Hubert, and the Herbert family. You guys are the best!

omg I cannot believe people eat chicken feet.

A small sprout

Dec24

Lately I’ve been browsing a book called History of Decatur County: It’s People, Industries and Institutions, a 1200-page tome written by Lewis Albert Harding in 1915. Among the township histories, I found a wonderful tidbit about my ancestor:

“Patrick Ewing came from Kentucky in the year 1826, settling on the land adjoining Mr. Douglass. He built a rude log hut, and in the yard there grew a small sprout about the size of a riding whip. He spared it, and it grew to a great tree of four feet in diameter. Under its boughs he reared a family of fifteen children.”

I suspect this family photo shows the "small sprout" spared by Patrick.

The log homestead was torn down and replaced with this three-room house in the early 1900's.

My Great Grandparents updated the house, adding on three bedrooms and a bathroom. This is how it looks today.

Right now there is some discussion about what should be done with the little house that sits on the site of the original Ewing homestead. It has been used as a rental property for many years, and as is typical with rentals, it has been poorly maintained and would require a sizable investment just to make it habitable. The last tenant did a pretty heinous job on it. Fixing it up just enough to make it liveable will bring an easy monthly income, but I am vehemently opposed to the idea because it means there will still be an awkward slum on this otherwise beautiful farm.

There has been some talk of demolishing the house. The first time I walked through it after the last tenant moved out, I was horrified, and actually said the words “Tear it down” as I ran to the door for fresh air. It was an emotional response, though, based on the fact that I couldn’t believe how slovenly a person could be.

But, after I had a few days to calm down, I walked back in there with a bucket of cleaning supplies, a dust mask, and an open mind, and underneath all the dog hair and cigarette ash and carpet soaked with who-knows-what, I found some decent hardwood floors. And under 8 years of dust, grime, and the kind of cobwebs usually reserved for haunted houses, I discovered a little bit of original woodwork.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s no architectural gem. But, as I mentioned (repeatedly) in my last post, I do think it makes more sense to work with what we have than to tear it down and start again.

Ever since I found the story about Patrick Ewing and his little sprout, I’ve seen plenty of potential in the little house. My ancestors started with absolutely nothing, and they carved out a homestead on this piece of land. They weren’t after quick profits; they were building a self-sufficient life here, and they were able to create something with their bare hands that has supported my family for six generations.

That silly-looking house is our little sprout. We can tear it down; we can maintain its sluminess; or we can nurture it and dream it into something better.

My dreamy ideas have been all over the place: an artist’s retreat, a fiber arts workshop, a summer camp for at-risk teens, a home for a local veteran getting started in agriculture through the Farmer-Veteran Coalition. Almost every day, I have some new, overly ambitious brainstorm.

But my favorite idea so far is the simplest and most logical one: to re-purpose the house as a farm store where we can sell the things we grow and make on this land. In the beginning, this would consist of farm-fresh eggs, fruits, veggies, herbs, cut flowers, ornamental plants, and potted succulents, but would hopefully grow to include hand-spun yarn and handcrafted items made of our yarn, and, someday, maybe even apples and cider and maple syrup and homemade soap and ohmygoodness farmstead CHEESE.

We’re not selling baby lamb meat, though, ever, and I don’t care how much money is in that market. My lambs will be my little buddies, and we will not be eating them.

It’s overwhelming at times that this could be my life. A year ago I was spending my days in a series of hospital rooms, hopelessly holding on to an ill-fated relationship with a man too traumatized by life and loss to love. Now I’m living out in the country, reading The Contrary Farmer, teaching myself to build fences and trying to figure out how to transport horse poo from the barn lot over to my garden.

Life is so uncertain. Things can change in a heartbeat. I can’t control my future any more than I can change my past, but I can dare to step optimistically into it. I’m trying to think like Patrick Ewing, who saw in this land an opportunity to grow something beautiful. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life, I’d like to make this place beautiful once again.