I hope you all don't mind that I join you for coffee this morning... ) ( ( ) Good Morning Friends! ( \ .-.,--^--. ( Come on in. . . \* ) \\|`----'| - The coffee pot's on. . . .=|=. \| |// ...and we even have decaf, |~'~| | |/ tea, and hot chocolate! | | \ / _|___|_ ------ (_______) Today's topics include: 1. Welcome to new subscribers 2. It's all in the name of progress TO OUR NEWEST SUBSCRIBERS ~~ On behalf of the entire list, I'd like to extend a most hearty welcome to those of you who joined us this past week. We are very glad to have you with us and hope you'll stay and remain a part of our online discussion group. As soon as you're comfortable with us and the list, please send in your list-surname lines so we can all see how we're related to you. We do not have a fancy format for sending in records or queries to the list. Post as many as you wish! If the data has anything to do with our county ancestors that might help someone, please feel free to post it. Every scrap of information is appreciated. Please share this Coffee with your genealogy friends and relatives and invite them to join us, as well. To subscribe to this newsletter all they need to do is send a blank email to <SundayCoffee-subscribe@topica.com>. IT'S ALL IN THE NAME OF PROGRESS 1722 He surveyed the results of his day's labor. He'd spent 16 hours hand-plowing nearly two acres of land today ~ just another 38 or so left to go. An additional 20 acres would be left for another year. A digging stick and a stone sickle was all he had those first few months of farming and he wondered then if he'd grow enough food for that first winter. Then he'd learned to use himself to pull a wooden plowshare through the dirt while his wife steered it. Twice the amount of land was cultivated and the family was, for the most part, kept from total starvation. They'd lost two children last year to disease resulting from their poor diet. He wasn't a farmer when they'd left the old country two years ago and he'd struggled to learn this new way of life. Two years ago he was a bookkeeper; but America didn't need bookkeepers. Farming was the anticipated way of life an immigrant could expect. He was glad he'd gotten a start on the cabin last year that his family was still living in. At least he didn't have to worry about another dwelling right away. Still, his wife was pregnant with their 5th child... 1772 The noon sun beat down on him and his oxen, causing sweat to bead up on both. They took a moment's breath, and all were beginning to feel the weariness caused from the last five hours of plowing. He took his weather-beaten hat off and using his forearm, wiped the water from his forehead. But he wasn't one to complain. His Dad's farm was doing well. Dad had passed on 10 years ago after a backbreaking life of working the land for 40 years and as oldest son, he'd inherited it. Had Dad still been living he would have found working the modern, wrought-iron plowshare pulled by an ox to be a joy. Forty five acres of land were being tilled now. Life was easier now; it was good. The tiny, dirt-floor cabin he was born and grew up in gave way to a newer and larger one about 25 years ago. It sat off to the side of the yard and was now used as a barn and storage area. The larger, earthen-floored cabin where he, his wife and the three youngest of their twelve children were living in today could use some fixing up before winter set in. Perhaps their oldest son would come over and help him fix the roof next month. Then again, his son's wife was due to deliver their seventh child then... 1822 He was tired, so tired. He knew it wouldn't be many more years before he'd pass the farm along to his eldest son. Looking back on the old days when Granddad first started the farm, it was hard to believe the operations of an 80-acre farm could be accomplished without a plow. In 1797 the old days were left behind when Charles Newbold invented the cast-iron plow, though he remembers his dad swearing that it would poison the soil and help weeds to grow. It took some time, but gradually Dad and other farmers learned that these beliefs were false. In sixteen hours a day of plowing now he could get done six times the work of his grandfather. The family didn't live in either cabin anymore. A new location up on the hill behind the original, 1719-structure had been cleared and now reflected a two-story farmhouse, though both the log cabins were still in the field near the stream. If they were still alive, both Mother and Grandmother would have been surprised at the handpump that provided running water in the kitchen. And Grandma would be very impressed with this new-fangled wood-burning stove to cook on. No more cooking in pots over an open flame in the fireplace; imagine that! 1952 Seven generations of men in his family had owned this farm and now, he was struggling to keep it. He wondered if his forefathers had gone through times as tough as right now. Seventy-five acres of wheat, corn and other foodstuffs were lying in the mid-summer field, thrusting themselves upward, seeking relief from the overhead clouds. So was he. It had been two weeks since the last rain and if the clouds didn't release a good downpour soon, he knew his harvest would fall far short this year for him to make a profit and keep the farm going. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He'd grown up in farming, knew what had to be done to get the crops to grow; but the weather seemed to be taking advantage of his tough times. He still owed on that used tractor he'd bought last year and the house... after the past winter's blizzards, well, that roof on the house wasn't going to hold up for another bad winter. He was worried, and so was his wife. They needed that rain to fall. It didn't. 2002 BOOM!... BOOM! The sounds resonated throughout the valley. The family and their friends were appalled that the construction company was tearing through what used to be their corn and wheat fields. The house on the hill was already demolished and a grader was leveling the land to lay in a road. Down below sat two delapidated log cabins. The smaller of the two was barely standing. A look inside produced an old stick with clumps of long-ago dried dirt still matted along one end, making it appear that it had been used for digging. Next to it sat a... what in the world was it? A stone in the shape of a sickle? Heaved into a truck meant to haul away rocks and soil, the two, nearly 300-year-old implements meet their final demise. And nearby, an equally old family cemetery lay overgrown with weeds. Will it escape the sights of the surveyor's equipment? I hope so. And, like so many things we see these days, we leave behind those items and memories in the name of progress, then later wonder "what it was like to live back then." Family ... it's what we're all about. Thank you for allowing me to spend this time with you. I hope your week is filled with health, productivity, fun, and above all, filled with love and inner peace. ) ( ) _.-~~-. (@\'--'/. Colleen ('``.__.'`) `..____.'

Thanks for the Coffee........How do I and where do I go to look at all this communication again? My mailbox is just about full and I need to look at it again......Isn't this all online somewhere?