Happy New Year to all on this list! I need some help - my grandfather, John E. RITZENTHALER passed away on December 16, 2003 in Olean, New York. I understand from my great-aunt that there was a front-page article and obituary in the Lockport Union Sun & Journal about him. Would someone be able to copy the article and obituary and send it snail mail to me? I will gladly pay any costs for copying and mailing. Thanks, Kim Brown

Dear Folks, I just got off the phone with my Deputy Town of Porter Historian, Millie in Ransomville. I had called my "Deputy Dog" to ask her about the plans that the hamlet of Ransomville had for New Year's Eve. She told me that they didn't have any special plans except for a party that the Ransomville businessmen are throwing just down the road from me at what used to be Harding's Restaurant (now called Perone's). As usual, Millie and I talked about everything and everyone, who died, who was doing what and about life in general. Millie and I are both in our 70s. We're from the same generation and she has a great sense of humor. We got a bit giggly and Millie asked me rather timidly if I remembered John and Marsha. And I immediately responded to her, "Oh John! Oh Marsha!" She knew that I knew exactly what she was referring to. It had to do with a recording that the comedian Stan Freberg made in 1950/51. She was thrilled that I really remembered it myself. There was no music involved and the entire lyrics were very simple, based on only two words, "John" and "Marsha." As I recall, it started with a woman's voice saying lovingly "Oh John" followed by a man's voice replying "Oh Marsha." The setting was repeated several times and then reached a passionate pitch where she said, "Oh, John, John, John!" and he responded "Oh, Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" It then evolved into inflections of the same two names that indicated they were having a disagreement and as I recall it simmered down with "John?" "Marsha?" And ended up with "Oh, John, John, John" and "Oh Marsha, Masha, Marsha!" Now, I don't expect you younger kids to understand the humor of it, but let me tell you Millie and I laughed our heads off when we realized that both of us remembered how hilarious it was at the time. When we were ready to hang up I said "Oh John." She said, "Oh Marsha" and both of us were still laughing when we hung up. vee

Dear Folks, Did you see what I just saw here in the country on Creek Rd. in Youngstown? It happened at 4:45 p.m. when I heard a loud honking that I figured was just an 18-wheeler truck going by. But then I heard police sirens wailing nearby. When I also heard Christmas music outside I went to the window to see what was going on. In front of my next door neighbor's house was the Youngstown Volunteer Fire Dept. fire truck all lit up like a Christmas tree and that's where the music was coming from. Behind the fire truck was a Fire Dept. car with its sirens blaring and lights flashing. The next thing I knew Santa Claus got out of the fire truck and walked across the road to where little kids were streaming out the doors of several houses and waiting for him along the road. He reached into his sack and handed Christmas presents to all of them. When the kids were safely back in their homes, the truck continued down the road and stopped at the next house where they knew kids lived. More honking of the fire truck's horn, more Christmas music and more sirens and flashing lights. And more kids running outside for their Christmas presents from Santa. Youngstown and Town of Porter may be small in population, but we're REALLY big in heart. vee

Dear Folks, This evening as I was washing the dishes (once again) I listened to the jazz music on the radio that I found to be rather enjoyable. Note: I do NOT enjoy jazz music with a wailing saxaphone anywhere in it. And as I listened to the soft smooth jazz, it brought back a memory that I had almost forgotten about. It happened in July 1958. I was on active duty in the Navy in California at that time and had received a telegram from my family informing me that my father in Houston, TX, was terminally ill and didn't have long to live. Therefore, I had to get back to him as quickly as I could. My commanding officer issued emergency leave papers for me and on July 18, 1958 I boarded a military Cesna 182 plane in Oakland, landed nearby in Sacramento , CA, and then left Mather Air Force Base there in a G-3, V-6, Cherokee V-4 to Denver. Note: don't even ask me what those plane designations mean. I'm only quoting from my "flight log." I got as far as Lowery Air Force Base in Colorado in the afternoon the next day, July 19, and I found that I wouldn't be able to catch another military flight until the next day. I checked into the Air Force enlisted women's transient barracks, I was assigned my bunk,I stowed my gear and then asked the nearest girl the way to "the club." She knew what I meant, pointed me in the right direction and with a change into civilian dress, I showed up there. I was really impressed with the club. It actually had live music with a piano and bass fiddle as I recall. It wasn't long before some handsome airman asked me to dance and so we did. And let me tell you it was heavenly! The music we danced to was sweet slow jazz that frankly I had never recalled hearing before. We danced close together and both of us were caught up with the sweet rhythm of the jazz music we were dancing to. It was a lovely evening. Later when I climbed into my bunk back at the barracks I knew that the evening was a sweet repite in my continuing journey to Houston the next day. After several more flights in military aircraft I landed in Houston where I was with my family when my father died seven days later on July 26, 1958. But what sweet, sweet jazz I danced to when I needed it the most. vee

Dear Folks, The following message was sent to me and the NYNIAGAR list. So for you who aren't subscribers to that list the following is FYI. Don, I'm really pleased with your dedication and efforts. Remember, I still have stacks and stacks of old newspaper articles in my computer that I could send to you in a heartbeat! :-) vee ----- Original Message ----- From: "Don W" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Cc: <[email protected]> Sent: Friday, December 12, 2003 11:06 PM Subject: Newspaper Articles Niagara County > To All: > My name is Don White. About two months ago I became > the New York State Coordinator for a free web site > called Newspaper Abstracts.Com. This site provides an > easy way for individuals to be able to post newspaper > articles in an easy format so others may benefit. We > all have newspaper photocopies in our scrapbooks, in > our genealogy filing system in our office or on the > dining room table which contain surnames in addition > to the one's we are researching. During the past two > months I assisted in transferring around 10,000 > articles from the old web pages to the new software > based pages. > Although the new site is still undergoing work, I > wanted to let everyone know about it. The amount of > information I was able to read while helping transfer > these articles was unbelievable. Not just births, > deaths and marriages, but people winning awards, being > in accidents, social events, court matters, lists of > people serving on juries, letters at Post Offices > waiting to be picked up, even students grades, etc. If > you do not have newspaper copies from Niagara County > newspapers, then please consider adding the ones for > the parts of the U.S. and Canada that you do have. > There are only two requirements: The newspaper article > is placed in the same area as the newspaper was > published and it must have been published prior to > 1931. Be sure to bookmark this site and check > regularly for new articles. The link to the Niagara > County page is: > > http://www.newspaperabstracts.com/newyork/niagara/index.shtml > > Vee graciously has given me permission to add her > articles from the old Niagara Co. mailing list > archives. I have added a eight of those articles as of > tonight and will continue to add the balance of them > over the next few weeks. The site has an excellent > search engine, but also take some time to read some of > the articles. They add life and character to our > ancestors and the times they lived in. > Thanks for your time and I look forward to reading > your articles. > Don W > Houston, Texas > > > > > __________________________________ > Do you Yahoo!? > Protect your identity with Yahoo! Mail AddressGuard > http://antispam.yahoo.com/whatsnewfree >

Hello everyone, and good morning Guess it's part of being an amateur researcher, that no matter what we read, we note Niagara County folks - <grin> The book "From Flappers to Flivvers......We Helped Make the '20s Roar! by Reminisce Books and Magazines. Chapter 3 What a Trip That Was!, page 59 "Very mobile home. His family's "house car" might have been the first back in 1925, says H.K. THURSTON of Grants Pass, Oregon. These photos, showing Lefty as a 2-year-old tyke, were snapped on a trip from Lockport, New York to Florida. Lefty adds that his mother was mad at his dad for taking some photos in a cottonfield, "where snakes like to hang out"!" Two very neat photos with these words, as are all the photos in this book which was put together from contributions by many folks who lived in the 1920s. Great reading!! I took note that there were several THURSTON folks living in Lockport on 1910 census. Evelyn in Colorado ________________________________________________________________ The best thing to hit the internet in years - Juno SpeedBand! Surf the web up to FIVE TIMES FASTER! Only $14.95/ month - visit www.juno.com to sign up today!

REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR December 7, 2001 Every year at this time I post this message although I continue to edit it. It's a story that I wrote many years ago that was to be included in the book I was writing about my own personal memories of WWII in Niagara Falls, NY. It's a story based on my personal memories of Dec. 7, 1941. In the story I was "Ginny," my older sister (Norma) was "Mary Ellen" and our older brother "Charlie" was fictitious. Actually our younger brother Johnny was just a baby. Our father's name was Charles and our mother's name was Verna. But in my book I named our parents Dan and Millie. In spite of the fiction involved in the story, this is pretty much how many families felt on Sunday, December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor Day. REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR! Sunday, December 7, 1941 "Ginny, I'm telling you for the last time." It was my mother yelling up at me from the bottom of the stairs. "It's 2:30 in the afternoon and you haven't even changed out of your Sunday dress yet." I reluctantly pulled my dress over my head. It wasn't that I especially liked to wear that particular dress, it was just that I was too lazy to change into something else. I grabbed an old skirt and sweater and put them on in a hit-or-miss fashion. I was just plain bored. My older sister Mary Ellen came into the bedroom that the two of us shared and sat down on the bench in front of the dressing table. I stood behind her and watched her in the mirror as she fussed with her long hair, trying to coax it into the latest style. "You look plain dumb," I told her after watching her for a while. "You'd look better if you stuck a paper bag over your head," I taunted. "Go mind your own business," Mary Ellen replied. "If you don't have anything better to do, go do it somewhere else." "I don't have to. This is just as much my bedroom as yours. So there!" I stuck my tongue out at her to make my point. Well, that was the end of Mary Ellen's patience with her little sister. She jumped up from the dressing table, knocking over the bench in the process, and chased me out of the room and down the stairs. I was only a step ahead of her. We burst into the living room, trading insults at the top of our voices. "Be quiet!" shouted Daddy. We could see in his face that something was definitely wrong and that we weren't the cause of it. Mother and Daddy were sitting in front of the radio set listening intently to what was being said by the announcer, and our older brother Charlie was pacing up and down the room, beating his fist angrily into the palm of his hand. Solemnly, Daddy told us the news. "The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor this morning." The way he said it, sounded like he was reporting that the world had just come to an end. "Where's Pearl Harbor?" I asked. I had never heard of it. "It's in Hawaii, Dummy," Mary Ellen answered up smartly. "Enough of that, both of you! Don't you realize what has happened?" Daddy was so agitated that he stood up and faced both of us. "Japan has attacked the United States! It means that we are at WAR!" Hearing that, Mary Ellen and I stood in shocked silence, thinking our own thoughts about what he had just said. Charlie continued to pace the floor in anger. "I'll get those dirty Japs for this. They won't get away with it," he said as he ran his fingers angrily through his hair. Then it dawned on both of us just exactly what being at war meant. It was obvious that Charlie was going to enlist in the service to fight in the war and there was no way that anyone could stop him. I felt a bit numb at the thought and I just stood there feeling as if I had just walked into the middle of a movie set. Surely, the players weren't real. They were just actors in a movie-a scary movie. I watched as my mother rocked back and forth in despair in the large upholstered chair. "Oh dear God, Oh dear God," she cried softly over and over again. "What are we going to do?" I had never seen Mother that upset. It was almost as if she had gone a little bit crazy. I saw that Charlie was as concerned for our mother as I was. He had stopped his pacing and I watched as he bent down and lovingly put his arm around her shoulders, placing his head against hers. "Don't worry, Mother. It's going to be OK." he said. I could see that Daddy was worried about Mother, too. I watched him sit down again in his chair across from her. He leaned over and patted her hand tenderly. "There, there, Millie. We'll manage. You'll see." That, too, was unusual. I couldn't remember ever seeing him display any particular signs of affection for her. At least not in front of me. Mother looked up at him with a tear-stained face. "Oh, Dan, I know you're right, but I can't stand the thought of Charlie going off to war. He's still just a boy." And she burst into tears again. I didn't like this scary movie. I wasn't going to watch it any more. And so I just walked out in the middle of it and went upstairs to my room. I flopped down on my bed, not wanting to even think about it. Mary Ellen found me there a while later. "What are you doing?" "I'm counting the roses on the wall paper," I replied listlessly. "Why?" "Oh, nothing," Mary Ellen said as she stretched out on her own bed. "How are things going downstairs?" I asked. "A lot better than the last time you were down there," she replied. Charlie wants to go down and join the Navy the first thing tomorrow morning but Mother and Daddy persuaded him to wait until after Christmas." "I'm glad they did. How's Mother doing?" "OK, I guess. She's in the kitchen starting dinner. Daddy's still in the living room with Charlie listening to the radio and discussing the war." "Now that we're at war, do you think we'll get bombed?" "I don't know. I hope not." Later that evening, things were back to normal, or as normal as they ever would be again. Mother and Daddy, Charlie, Mary Ellen and I did what we always did on a Sunday evening. We sat in the living room and listened to our favorite radio programs, Jack Benny, and then Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. And we all laughed. It was a relief to be able to laugh again. The clouds of war had lifted for a moment-but only for a moment.

Dear Folks, It wasn't until this evening that I realized that tomorrow is Dec. 7. For 62 years I've remembered that specific date as being the imfamous date that the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor that threw our country into the horror of WWII. With that said, I'll follow this message with one that I have posted to the list over the past number of years. REMEMBOR PEARL HARBOR. vee

Dear Folks, This evening while I was washing the dishes I was listening to my classical musical station on the radio and at that hour they were playing "Romantic Moments" or some such title. It was a combination of soft classical music combined with the reading of very romantic letters from long ago by a woman who had a very soft sensual voice. And while I listened to the words of the letters, it reminded me of a string of romantic letters I had written myself almost 21 years ago. In January 1983 I had just passed my 51st birthday. I was a Chief Petty Officer on active duty in the Navy and was a Department Head at Navy Recruiting District Headquarters in Buffalo. A special consulting team came to our headquarters and individuals of the team were assigned to different departments to help them maximize their abilities in the effort of Navy Recruiting. My department was assigned a Master Chief Petty Officer. He walked into my office, introduced himself and got right down to business. For a full week he sat alongside my desk and coached me all along the way as to how I could improve my department's efficiency. I really admired his expertise in our line of Navy work and I took it all in and took copious mental notes. On Friday the day before the whole team was to depart back to their own headquarters, the Master Chief asked me if I would like to get together with him and the whole team for a couple of farewell drinks at a local Buffalo bar that evening. I readily accepted his invitation. I left the office and changed into a flattering civilian dress, etc., and met up with him and the team at the bar. I joined in with all of them and we laughed and talked Navy Recruiting talk over drinks. The Master Chief then suggested that just the two of us go to another bar he had become familiar with and I acompanied him. There we talked and got to know one another and danced and danced together and all in all it was a very romantic evening. As a result, the next evening after he had flown back to his headquarters, I was inspired to write a letter to him regarding our time together and especially our evening together. The following are only the first few words I wrote to him in prose style. DAY ONE You touched my life last night. I don't know whether to love you for it or to hate you. You have interrupted my life. My letters to him continued from January 1983 to around May of 1984. And with every letter I wrote I made a Xerox copy of them and I filed the copies in a special file folder. I didn't want prying eyes to pick out the folder and so I filed them in an old folder that I had labeled "Lafayette De Wees" that I had used for my Lafayette side of the family. Therefore, all of the letter copies were filed there and that's why I eventually called the whole collection "Love Letters to Lafayette." As I read over the last of the love letters this evening I'm reminded of the past--not only the sweet moments but the disappointing moments. Nonetheless, my last note to my eventual collection of the love letters was a sweet farewell. I wrote: IN CONCLUSION We were left with sweet memories To warm us when we need to be warmed On an evening When the heart is cold. Note: I was 56 years old at the time. vee

Dear Folks, I'm STILL upgrading my word processing files on disks, and while I was also paginating a series of stories that are tied to gether, I typed in page number 211. Instantly I remembered the significance of the number. Picture Naval Air Station, Oakland, CA, in the year 1956. Picture a pretty young "thang" in Navy regulation "working dungarees" uniform standing the 2000-2400 (8:00-12:00 p.m.) watch in the tiny switchboard room in Communications. Well, that young thang was me! It was my duty to be the switchboard operator and when anyone called the air station, a light would light up on my switchboard. I'd plug a line into the hole under the light and give them the proper military response ("Naval Air Station Oakland, Petty Officer Lauer [my last name at the time] speaking, Sir." They in turn would tell me who they wanted to speak to or what department/office/barracks/club they wanted to be connected with. It got so that I memorized most of the many different extension numbers and so I'd imediately plugged the line into the correct extension hole without having to look it up on the list. And one of them was Extension 211. It was the number of the Officers' Club. I recognized it in an instant this evening, a memory brought back by page number 211 in the year 2003, 47 years later. Oh the stories I could tell you about being a switchboard operater at night at NAS Oakland!! vee

Dear Faith, Regarding our museum guides being able to hold the children's interest, well that's what happens when we all get excited talking about the subject we love the best--local history. But trust me, when the kids walked into the museum it was obvious that they felt like they had stepped into a time machine and had been whisked back into the dinosaur age! :-) vee ----- Original Message ----- From: "Faith Hutchings" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Thursday, December 04, 2003 2:50 PM Subject: [FOLKS] Fourth Graders on a field trip > Vee, > > The Fourth Graders evidently listened carefully to their museum guides on > this field trip. This shows that not only did the children pay attention but > also indicates the ability of the museum guides, including you, Vee, to hold > their attention. You were interesting! > > I noticed only two of the students mentioned the actual name of the > Victrola, and one even spelled it correctly! I recall that a boy of East > Indian descent won the National Spelling Bee--seems like it was twice--in > the past few years? > > Faith > > >

What a wonderful friendship you two shared. Nice, Anna ----- Original Message ----- From: "Faith Hutchings" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Cc: <[email protected]> Sent: Thursday, December 04, 2003 7:07 PM Subject: Victrolas > Our family never had a victrola but my neighbors had a big one (not > portable). As a child, I loved to wind it up and listen to the music. They > also had a player piano which I pumped away on by the hour! I probably spent > as much time at their house as at my own. Their daughter was ten years older > than I, but because she had slight mental and physical disablement's, she > seemed close to my age. She wrote beautiful poetry. I still have the small > book of her poetry. She was given the job of town librarian. Knowing how > much I liked to read, probably too because she wanted my company, she asked > my father if I could be her assistant on Saturdays. I was "in my element." I > performed only minimal tasks so I could read all day Saturday! > > Faith > > >

Our family never had a victrola but my neighbors had a big one (not portable). As a child, I loved to wind it up and listen to the music. They also had a player piano which I pumped away on by the hour! I probably spent as much time at their house as at my own. Their daughter was ten years older than I, but because she had slight mental and physical disablement's, she seemed close to my age. She wrote beautiful poetry. I still have the small book of her poetry. She was given the job of town librarian. Knowing how much I liked to read, probably too because she wanted my company, she asked my father if I could be her assistant on Saturdays. I was "in my element." I performed only minimal tasks so I could read all day Saturday! Faith

I have a Victrola which my FIL gave me. Don is 80 this week. It belonged to his Uncle Charlie and Don would play it when they visited their house. Charlie said it was his when the time came. Don passed it along to me and I treasure the machine. We had some event at the library several years ago and I took it in and played it -- YIKES!!! The kids were thrilled to learn it was the boombox of its' time: Why! it is portable! The cylinder records amaze them as well. One young boy who was unable to attend the event checked out books about the Victrolas and I mentioned the movie "Somewhere in Time" with Christopher Reeves. There was a Victrola featured in the movie(e and it was filmed in the Grand Hotel on Mackinaw Island, Michigan). They checked out the movie and when they brought it back I brought the Victrola in so he could crank it, flip the switch and position the needle. He grinned from here to tomorrow. Thanks for reminding me, Anna I affix a large red bow to the horn for the holidays too. Anna ----- Original Message ----- From: "Faith Hutchings" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Thursday, December 04, 2003 1:50 PM Subject: [FOLKS] Fourth Graders on a field trip > Vee, > > The Fourth Graders evidently listened carefully to their museum guides on > this field trip. This shows that not only did the children pay attention but > also indicates the ability of the museum guides, including you, Vee, to hold > their attention. You were interesting! > > I noticed only two of the students mentioned the actual name of the > Victrola, and one even spelled it correctly! I recall that a boy of East > Indian descent won the National Spelling Bee--seems like it was twice--in > the past few years? > > Faith > > >

Vee, The Fourth Graders evidently listened carefully to their museum guides on this field trip. This shows that not only did the children pay attention but also indicates the ability of the museum guides, including you, Vee, to hold their attention. You were interesting! I noticed only two of the students mentioned the actual name of the Victrola, and one even spelled it correctly! I recall that a boy of East Indian descent won the National Spelling Bee--seems like it was twice--in the past few years? Faith

Dear Folks, I've been intensely dedicated recently in updating my old files to the current version of word processing, spreadsheets, or whatever. This evening I came across something I had recorded back in 1997 that I don't believe I ever sent to anyone. It has to do with the local fourth-graders' field trip to learn some of the local history. This evening I added a "Forward" to what I had originally transcribed and it all follows. Note: From experience I know that when I cut and paste something I've saved in my word processing program, it tends to end up double spaced in the message. Hopefully, I've gotten the hang of it and that it will be readable. When the local fourth graders came to our Town of Porter Historical Society Museum on a field trip every May, it also included a school bus ride around the village of Youngstown during which time one of our society members pointed out the old houses and churches and told them about the history of the village. They were escorted on foot down to our waterfront and also given the opportunity to look around our old St. John's Episcopal Church. As was the custom, shortly after their field trip their teachers had them send personal letters of thanks to the society members (including me) in their own handwriting (or printing) including pictures that they drew of their favorite memory of the visit. Every year I awaited their letters and all of us society members involved were tickled pink with their comments and their pictures. In May of 1997 I just had to jot down what some of them had to say. Note: The record player they referred to was an old wind-up Victrola. I played one of my very old 78 rpm records of an old WWI tune, "I'll be With You When the Roses Bloom again." These are the comments the fourth-graders had to say regarding their field trip. I like knowing how the people back then heard music and what kind of music they listened to. It was scary and loud. I wish I knew more about the oldest house in Youngstown. Jordan. I especially enjoyed the recored [sic] player. It sounded like little mice singing and made me want to jump up and dance. Jessica I really enjoyed the old record player it made a weird sound. The best part I liked on the walk was Saint John's Episcopal Church. It was small but nice. Angelo I especially like the radio [Vee's note: actually, the Victrola]. It sounded like Alvin and the Chipmunks. I was going to go on the Microphage [microfiche viewer] but we ran out of time. I may come up on a Wednesday. Jess. I enjoyed listening to the Victrola . . . . It was interesting learning about the schoolroom. I hope I can come again. Bhaiyyot Singl. I liked seeing the toys they played with and what the different radios looked like. I thought that it was a good idea to have a gold star if someone died in World War II. Andrew. I enjoyed going in the church. . . . I really liked the old toy cars. Kurt. I especially like the telephone. I would have liked to learn about the schools in Youngstown. Melody Thank you for explaining the details to the old stuff. I was interested in the coins because I like the old designs that were on the old coins. I would of liked to have seen hockey stick to go with the ice skates. Mike. Thank you for showing me things from the past. Thanks for taking me for a walk around Youngstown. What I liked the most at the museum was the record player. I also like the music that it made. Kelli I enjoyed the most was when we listened to the record player and the Victrolia [sic]. They sounded like little kids singing really fast. Also when we learned about The Battle of LaBelle Famille. Christine What I enjoyed most was that I learned that a doctor's house had two front doors! Stephanie One of my favorite things was the way people planted seeds with the metal thing which was noisy [a corn planter]. Dan One thing that I learned was that the C on the buildings dates around when the building was built. Joe I enjoyed going into the museum and seeing the machine that let you read old newspapers. I can't believe that they put all the students grades in the newspaper. Melissa I liked the record player, the schoolroom and I liked the walk outside. Jacklyn I enjoyed reading the newspaper on the microphage [microfiche]. I would like to see an old ice box. I liked the ice skates. I would [like to]see the record player again. I would like to use one of the old telephones. I also liked the old church. Jason I liked looking on that TV newspaper thing [microfiche viewer]. The strangest thing was seeing student's report cards in the newspaper. I would be embarrassed if my grades were in the newspaper. I thought there were not many historical places in Youngstown still standing until I went on the field trip. Eric In the museum some of the things look weird compared to today's inventions. I liked the recorder and coins. Jon I really enjoyed the museum the most. I liked the newspaper thing the most. Sarah Vee again, It was always such a joy and delight to see the students so wide-eyed in wonder of all of the history we were passing on to them. Trust me, they weren't bored!! vee

I received the following from a descendant of the Tower family one of our earliest settlers in the Town of Porter. It was obvious that her father "Dad Tower" had sent it to her by email. You may have received similar posts such as this but I send it to the list and admit to changing only one reference in it. That is I changed "Stewart's (convenience store chain)" to B-Kwik which has recently changed its name to "The Market Place." Other than that, it paints a pretty accurate picture of our lives here in the Town of Porter, Niagara Couunty. vee You know you're from Upstate NY when... Your idea of a traffic jam is ten cars waiting to pass a tractor on the highway. Vacation means going to Rochester for the weekend. You measure distance in hours. You know several people who have hit deer more than once. You often switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day. You use a down comforter in the summer. Your grandparents drive at 65 mph through 13 feet of snow during a raging blizzard...without flinching. You see people wearing hunting clothes at social events. You install security lights on your house and garage and leave them both unlocked. You think of the major food groups as deer meat, beer, fish, and berries. You carry jumper cables in your car and your girl friend knows how to use them. There are 7 empty cars running in the parking lot at B-Kwik at any given time. You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit. Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled in with snow. You think sexy lingerie is tube socks and flannel pajamas. You know all 4 season: almost winter, winter, still winter, construction. It takes you 3 hours to go to the store for one item even when you're in a rush because you have to stop and talk to everyone in town. AND... You actually understand these jokes and forward them to all of our friends from Upstate NY.

Dear Folks, My great-grandparents Alexander KEITH and Catherine BISSELL, were both born in New York. I have not been able to locate their marriage or death records in Ontario, Canada or New York. Any suggestions where I might find further information in New York will be appreciated. Ethel Ontario, Canada Child of David FULLER and Elizabeth BREWER Hannah FULLER, 1812, Niagara, Ontario, Canada Spouse: Lorenzo BISSELL, 1808, Lewiston, Niagara, New York Child of Lorenzo BISSELL and Hanna FULLER Catherine BISSELL, 1847, Lewiston, Niagara, New York Spouse: Alexander KEITH, 1839, Albion, New York

Dear Folks, Now don't ask me what prompted me to remember my old Sunday School teacher Mrs. Batts this evening. I don't have a clue. But this is what I remember of her. Back around 1940 or 41 or so when I was about 9 or 10 years old and in the fourth grade, I had a Sunday School teacher by the name of Mrs. Batts. I was one of her students in the Sunday School at the First Baptist Church in Niagara Falls, NY. I listened to every word she said and I filled my little notebook with religious pictures and stories I had written about the Bible stories she taught us. I still have that notebook and it's filled with gold stars that Mrs. Batts had awarded me regarding my efforts. Frankly I was so impressed with Mrs. Batts teachings that I felt honored when she asked me and several other girls in our Sunday School class to come to her house during the week just to enjoy getting together with each other. And let me tell you, Mrs. Batts was some REAL lady! She was a widow with no children who lived in an old house on Ashland Avenue in Niagara Falls. But it was a beautiful house. In my mind now I might describe it as a Victorian house. And in it she had a wonderful organ. No not a pipe organ but close to it. She would play the most beautiful music on her organ for us and would demonstrate all of the different sounds she could make from the organ. We were always fascinated. But Mrs. Batts had other plans for us girls. She taught us to sing very interesting songs that we never had heard before. One that I recall was by the title (I think) of "Andy, My Scot's Blue Bell." It was definitely of Scottish origin and as we girls sang it together we danced the Highland Fling the way that Mrs. Batts had taught us. Another song that I really remember her teaching me was "Tying Apples on the Lilac Tree." It was the story of a boy wooing a girl who rejected him by telling him that she would love him only when apples grew on a lilac tree. You can probably figure out how the rest of that story went. But apparently what Mrs. Batts had in her mind all along was to prepare us girls to give a performance in the old folks home in Niagara Falls. And that we did. We sang and we danced and I sang "Tying Apples on the Lilac Tree" with appropriate exaggerated gestures that a nine-year-old could manage. The old folks were utterly delighted Mrs. Batts died around 1950 and when I read her obituary in the newspaper I knew that I had to go to her viewing. I did but none of her family there could understand one single bit of what I wanted to tell them about my memories of her. Mrs. Batts, I may not remember all of the words to "Tying Apples on the Lilac Tree," but I can still remeber the gestures. Such old precious memories! vee

HI; Does anyone have access to the 1885 Niagara County Census ? I'm interested in seeing if Nancy Helen Lynch is listed. Thanks Bill Bridges