Peanut Butter Cookies, Practical Jokes, Farm Cats, Etc.

Since Grandma didn’t write a diary entry again today I’m going to share some memories of my cousin (and Grandma’s grandson) Stu:

My recollection of Grandma was mostly as an elderly woman. I remember her peanut butter cookies with fondness. I remember Thanksgivings at her house, with her getting up in the small hours to start the turkey, and the kids (at least, the younger ones) at the round table in Grandpa’s study. It’s sobering to think that at those Thanksgivings in the early 60’s, she was only about 10 years older than we are now. The conveyor of life moves on, and us with it.

I remember her wicked delight in practical jokes. The bucket of water carefully balanced on the door was a favorite. Or her ongoing wars with farm cats. Or that she had a more-or-less full set of 14 cloth calendars, which she’d recycle depending on the year.

Stu Kurtz

One of the things that I’ve most enjoyed as I’ve worked on this blog is the opportunity to reconnect with relatives. And, as the years pass and the “conveyor of life moves on” I’ve discovered that it feels good to remember (or in some cases discover) some of those who were earlier on that conveyor.

One of my biggest surprises has been how many people remember some of the same smallest details about Grandma’s life.

In addition to the memory that is in the box above, Stu had another sentence in his email. It was about the cloth calendars and said, “This came up recently, and I can’t remember if it was your blog, or just Mom and I reminiscing.” The cloth calendars were in this blog—there was a posting on them on January 29.

I remember thinking when I wrote that post that cloth calendars were a silly thing to write about—yet I strongly connected them with Grandma. It’s fun to hear that others also remembered them—and that the calendar entry generated conversations totally outside of this blog. Stu reminisced about them with his mother; my children and I discussed them.

Stu’s mention of Thanksgiving at the round table in Grandpa’s study also brought back memories. Tomorrow, I’ll describe those Thanksgivings a bit more.

Easter Memory

Sunday, April 23, 1911: Missing entry (Diary resumes on April 28.)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Since again today there is no diary entry, and since I’ve been trying to understand how the teen in the diary evolved into the grandmother I remember, I’ll share an Easter memory of her (The 23rd wasn’t Easter a hundred years ago.)–

In 1966 my grandfather—Grandma’s husband—died a few day before Easter. Grandma was 71-years-old at the time. That year on Easter afternoon my parents, aunts, and uncles grimly gathered in Grandma’s brick bungalow and sat around her kitchen table writing thank you notes.

My cousins and I were banished from the kitchen and spent the afternoon chasing each other around Grandma’s yard. Around the trees—up and down the porch stairs— running, running and more running. I was 10-years-old that spring and the movement felt really good after all the days of mourning.

Fast forward one year to 1967—

I can remember family Easter egg hunts at my house that began in 1967 and continued for probably another 8 or 10 Easters. Prior to my grandfather’s death I think that my family typically spent the day with extended family on my mother’s side of the family. But the year following his death, my parents began hosting an annual Easter egg hunt that drew relatives from both sides of the family.

I colored and hid two or three hundred eggs in our expansive yard each year. Children and adults paired up to hunt the eggs. Whenever a kid found an egg they were required to run back to their adult partner and give that person the egg before dashing off to search for another egg.

I can’t specifically remember Grandma at those Easter egg hunts—but each year one of her grandchildren would have been her partner. Other adults might have shouted encouragement to their youthful partners—Grandma won’t have.

Instead I picture Grandma’s eyes gleaming each time her grandchild partner dashed toward her carrying an egg—and that she probably secretly hoped her team would end up with the most eggs (but she won’t have outwardly shown disappointment if her team didn’t win).

Brown-Butter Macaroni

Sunday, April 23, 1911: Missing entry (Diary resumes on April 28.)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Since Grandma didn’t write a diary entry again today I’m continuing to share other relatives’ memories of Grandma. My cousin Stu told me to ask his mother (and Grandma’s daughter) about the macaroni story. This is what Aunt Eleanor told me:

When we lived in suburban Philadelphia in the ’60s, the kids and I would visit upstate, first with my parents – until my father died and after that with my mother. We chose mid-August because that way we could catch the Swartz family reunion (on the third Saturday) and also because the tomatoes and sweet corn were at their absolute peak.

Helen(a) and Raymond Swartz and their descendents at the Swartz Reunion, White Deer Park, 1963 (Click on photo to see a larger version of it.)

On one visit after my father died, I offered to make brown-butter macaroni as a contribution for one of the meals. That’s just plain macaroni cooked al dente, drained, and then dressed with a small amount of browned butter. My hand must have slipped or something, and way more macaroni went into the pot of boiling water than I intended. By the time it was boiled and dressed, it was a LOT of macaroni.

My mother, never one to keep silent on such matters, complained that I’d cooked too much macaroni. And I, never able to accept her criticism passively, said no, that was about the right amount, the kids really liked their macaroni. Then dishing up as the kids were gathering round, I took advantage of my mother’s hearing deficit to whisper to them (rather forcefully), “You kids better help me out here and eat all of this!” And I’ve always been so proud of those little soldiers. My mother and I ate normal portions, but the kids ate all the rest.

Eleanor Kurtz

I had never heard of brown-butter macaroni so asked Aunt Eleanor several questions about how to make it. As with many old recipes there aren’t precise instructions, but she gave me some general directions.

Brown-Butter Macaroni

Cook 2 cups of macaroni in salted boiling water until al dente (follow package directions); drain. Meanwhile melt and lightly brown (using care not to burn) 2 tablespoons of butter in a skillet. Stir the macaroni into the browned butter; put in a dish and serve immediately.

My husband Bill and I really liked the brown-butter macaroni—and finished the entire bowl of it. Brown-butter macaroni has a delicate taste and tastes similar to some excellent pastas that I’ve eaten in upscale restaurants.

Butchering, Sausage, and the Light Plant

Saturday, April 22, 1911: Missing entry (Diary resumes on April 28.)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Since Grandma didn’t write a diary entry today I’m going to share a couple of my Uncle Carl’s favorite memories of his mother:

After we had butchered a couple of hogs for our meat supply to last about 6 months in the future, a large amount of sausage needed to be canned in glass jars. The sausage was fully cooked before it was put into the jars. How do you think that a sandwich made of fresh home-made bread and that sausage tasted after walking home from school 2 miles away? She was a good cook in addition to being a good Mother!

Building that once housed the McEwensville School. It was a 1-8 school when Carl attended it. (When Grandma was a student, the building housed both elementary and high school grades.)

Recent photo of Main Street, McEwensville. When Carl was a child he would have walked past these houses on his way home from school.

When I was a child there were no freezers (or bathrooms) at this time. NO PPL electric either, although we had a 32 volt light plant with storage batteries. This gave us light which was good while light plant was running. As the lights got dimmer at night, you just went to bed. Mom had an electric clothes washer, but it drew so much electric that the light plant had to be running while washing. When PPL came there was electric stove, a good washer, refrigerator, running water, and soon a bathroom. Life was better!

Carl Swartz

“Whispering to Myself”

Friday, April 21, 1911: Missing entry (Diary resumes on April 28.)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Since Grandma didn’t write any diary entries for the next several days I’m going to share other relatives’ memories of her.

Today my father Harold Swartz is going to tell you his favorite memory of his mother:

Her sincerity and concern when one of her children was hurt. I could tell by her face and expressions that it hurt her more than it hurt me, even though I was the one who was hurt.

When I was about 10 years old a barbed fence was put across a path that went across a field to keep the cows in. I forgot about the fence and was running. I ran into it and cut my face from my mouth to my ear. When my mother saw me, I knew it hurt her more than it hurt me. My parents took me to the doctor. The doctor said I could whisper to myself because it was open between my mouth and my ear. He stitched it up. I don’t have any scars.

Harold Swartz

The barbed wire fences (as well as the electric ones) are long gone, but there are still small remnants from fences. If you look carefully at this stump, you can see a white insulator where a fence was once attached.Back when there were fences, it probably was a tree rather than a stump. (To better see the insulator, click on the photo for a larger view.)

Genealogy–The Maternal Side

Thursday, April 20, 1911: Missing entry (Diary resumes on April 28.)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Since Grandma didn’t write anything in her diary again today, I’d like to tell you a little more about her family.

Grandma’s parents were Albert Muffly and Phoebe (Derr) Muffly. Yesterday’s post followed the paternal line back to Switzerland.

Today I’d like to give some information about the maternal line.

My cousin (and one of Helena’s grandchildren) Alice Chepiga compiled this information for her son. Like me, she really enjoys digging into our family history:

I had so much fun last summer putting these documents together. My Mom had a box with lots of papers. It was a challenge separating the documents to see how our family was related to our ancestors.

Alice Chepiga

Here’s what Alice found:

John Wilson (1726) married Phoebe Dawson, daughter of Thomas and Elizabeth Dawson from Karsborough, Yorkshire, England.

John and Phoebe had eight children including Hannah was born in England in 1763.

John and Phoebe immigrated to America in August 1764.

Philip Opp (1759 born in Germany) marries Hannah Wilson in 1787.

In 1786, John and Mary Opp sold land to their son Philip 250 acres near Muncy, PA.

They had five children including one daughter, Mary (1796) and Philip Opp – father of Colonel Milton Opp – Civil War.

Mary Opp marries Christopher Derr in 1818. Christopher’s father emigrated from Germany in 1771.

They have ten children including John Derr (1823). John Derr married Sarah Houseknecht. They have a daughter Phoebe who marries Albert Muffly.

One of Phoebe’s children is a daughter, Helen(a) Muffly.

(See a photo of John and Sarah Derr’s family in the posting titled Grandma’s Parents.)

A note regarding yesterday’s post on the genealogy of Muffly side of the family: Bill Dietrich sent me additional information from the 1850 census about the 4th generation. I’ve updated yesterday’s post, and added several children to the list for Samual Muffly (April 21, 1797-July 1, 1873) and Anna Maria Kleppinger.

I’m at Least 0.4% Swiss!!

Wednesday, April 19, 1911: Missing entry (Diary resumes on April 28.)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

I believe that there are only two spots during the entire four-year diary where Grandma failed to write a daily entry—one place was in January 1911 near the very beginning of the diary; the other spot is here.

I will use these days to provide additional background information about Grandma. Today, I’d like to share some genealogical information about the Muffly family.

It looks like the Muffly family originally came over from Switzerland. I recently contacted Rootsweb—Northumberland County to try to find out more about the Muffly family. Bill Dietrich responded. He had traced the Muffly paternal line back to Bern Switzerland. Bill-thank you!

I organized the information by generation.

My cousin Stu Kurtz provided some additional details based upon census data that he found on the Church of Latter Day Saints’ FamilySearch site.

The Muffly Family in the United States

Generation 1

Nickolas Muffly (1707-1786). Immigrated from Bern Switzerland to Northampton County Pennsylvania; later moved to Centre County, Pennsylvania and eventually died in Centre County (At that time Centre County was part of Northumberland County.)

Generation 2

Peter Muffly (1739-1816) and Catherine Regina Wannemacher (1744-1831). Peter was born in Northampton County, Pennsylvania; later moved to Centre County, Pennsylvania (which was part of Northumberland County)

Generation 3

Heinrick Muffly (February 15, 1772 – February 4, 1853) and Julia Marie Walker (1774-1861). Heinrick moved from Centre County, Pennsylvania to Montour County Pennsylvania (which was also part of Northumberland County at that time).

Generation 4

Samual Muffly (April 21, 1797-July 1, 1873) and Anna Maria Kleppinger (1795-1868). Samual lived in Montour County Pennsylvania.

Children:

Samuel K. (December 14, 1827-1896)

Catherine, born circa 1830 (20 years old in 1850 census)

Maria, born circa 1832 (18 years old in 1850 census)

George, born circa 1835 (15 years old in 1850 census)

Stephen, born circa 1837 (13 years old in 1850 census)

James W. (1842-1860)

Generation 5

Samuel K. Muffly (December 14, 1827-1896) and Charlette Treon (1827-1905). Samuel K. was born and died in Montour County, Pennsylvania.

Children:

Anna Maria (1852- )

Mentures (1854- )

Mary Eve (1855- 1912)

Albert James (1857-1949)

Oscar L (1860-1919)

Emma (1862- )

Elizabeth (1864- )

Samuel (1865- )

Asher (1869- )

Essie (1872- )

George (1874- )

Note: Stu looked at census data and found many of the names in this generation in the 1870 census—but he did not find Mentures. Mentures apparently died young. Stu says that according to an online dictionary menture means “intellect” or “mind” in Latin. In the 1800s Latin was commonly taught in schools, so maybe a version of the word was used as a name.

Generation 6

Albert James Muffly (November 23, 1857- 1949) and Phoebe Jane Derr (1862-1941). Albert was born in Montour County; As an adult lived in Northumberland County.

Children: Bessie F. (1888-1981),

Ruth E. (1892-1977)

Helen(a) Mae (March 21, 1895-November 26, 1980)

James A. (August 30, 1905 – July 14, 1988)

Please note that this list may be revised. We’re still double checking some of the information—but I wanted to share what I had.

My son asked what proportion of my ancestry was Swiss. Well, nine generations ago I had 256 great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents. At least 1 of them came from Switzerland, so I’m at least 1 / 256th Swiss—in other words, I’m at least 0.4% Swiss.