[This is an ongoing Facebook project that I've decided to share here as well,
slightly revised and expanded, with additional photos and links.
Check back for updates through 4 July 2026.]
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The 21st Century I find it interesting that the closer to our own time I get, the harder these posts are to write. The reason is two-fold: first that there are no new ancestors to introduce whose stories I can share; it is just my sister and I now. (Our last grandparent died in 2002, and our parents in 2010 and 2021.) The second reason is that it is much harder to gauge which current events will have real long-term historical significance, the likely bullet points in some future timeline if America reaches 300 years.
Anyway, one event of which I am certain is September 11, 2001. Like all of us, I have a story about that tragic day. Initially we had planned to go camping at the Grand Canyon across that week, as my birthday is on the 12th. (I can only imagine coming back into civilization after a few days and learning what had occurred.) Instead, we stayed home, and ended up adopting our first dog, filling out paperwork at the shelter and arranging to pick her up at the vet’s office a few days later.
The first phone call–at about 6 am–was from one of Stephen’s sisters. Several time zones ahead of us, she was already awake and had seen the news about the first attack. At that time, Stephen was working at Disneyland, which was considered a possible target, which prompted her call. We immediately went to our televisions and, like so many others, sat numbly as the events of that morning unfolded. A bit later, our downstairs neighbor that we barely knew came up to join us; she had recently relocated from NYC and didn’t want to be alone. An hour or so after that, the phone rang again; this time it was the vet’s office. Apologetically, the caller said “Our staff would like to go home to be with their families. Are you still planning to come in for your puppy?” We had completely forgotten. Off we went, and our Maisie came home with us. Sitting on the couch watching the atrocities, she sat in our laps giving us unconditional love–and hope. Over the years, we have visited both the 9/11 Flight 93 Memorials. But rather than let sorrow overwhelm us on each anniversary, we have renamed that day “Maisie Day” and find something positive to celebrate–and fly our flag.
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| Little Maisie on Gotcha Day, September 11, 2001 |
In 2008, bucking centuries of both the American and family tradition of “go west, young man!” Stephen and I, middle-aged men, went east. We relocated to Greenhills OH, a WPA era community I’ve mentioned in an earlier post. In 2011, I began my genealogy research in earnest, and consequently, this blog. Both the move and the hobby furthered my interest in America and Americans, expanding our Road Trip possibilities with new points of interest.
We drove the Blue Ridge Parkway, and took sightseeing outings to Saint Louis, Chicago, Pittsburgh, and Washington DC among others. I made solo day trips to Toledo and Marysville Ohio, and Lawrence County Indiana to learn more about my family tree. One place I did not visit was eighty feet deep in Lake Erie, near Cleveland, where the remains of one of my 3x great-grandfather Frederick Ketchum’s ships, the Plymouth, was discovered in 2014. He built the schooner in nearby Huron OH in 1847, and it sank just five years later after being rammed amidship by a steamer. You can read more about it here.
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| The bow. photo courtesy Courtesy of David VanZandt/CLUE |
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