Sepia Saturday: An Uncle I Never Knew – The Rest of the Story

The month of January and a health emergency declared in the state of Washington because of a measles outbreak had me thinking about an uncle I never knew.

This is the last post in a series about my uncle Wilbur Thomas Hoskins, who died at five years of age due to complications following measles. You can catch up here:
A Tow-headed Boy
Measles
Who was with the family?
Funeral Record
The Salvation Army Offers Assistance
Letters of Condolence
bills to pay

I first introduced Uncle Wilbur in this photograph, taken when he was three months old and in the arms of his parents, Eveline and Thomas Hoskins.

Eveline, Wilbur, Tom Hoskins

A few months after Wilbur’s death, my mother was born. Only one of the other five children born to Eveline and Thomas knew Wilbur – Albert, whose fourth birthday was the day of Wilbur’s funeral.

Front: Montell, Eveline, Wilma 2nd: Albert, Tom Back: Doris, Roy

My mother and I lived with my grandparents from the time I was two to almost eight years of age. I never saw any pictures of Wilbur or heard about him that I remember. I’m sure it was my mother who told me about him sometime later. Mom gave me three bits of information that stuck with me: Wilbur died of Bright’s Disease; my grandfather had a “nervous breakdown” after Wilbur’s death; and my grandfather vowed he would never give another child his name. (Wilbur’s middle name was Thomas). I’ll take these one at a time.

Cause of death:

It wasn’t until I got a copy of Wilbur’s death certificate that I learned that measles was contributory to Wilbur’s death – preceding the nephritis (inflammation of the kidneys) listed as cause of death. Bright’s Disease, the cause of death given by my mother, is a historical classification of kidney diseases that would be described in modern medicine as acute or chronic nephritis.

Sometimes death certificates contain errors, but I feel confidence in this one. Having the receipts for payment of bills to Dr. Bissekumer, I can match the signatures on the death certificate to the receipts and I also know that he saw Wilbur on more than one occasion. He was the attending physician.

My grandfather had a nervous breakdown:

I emailed the remaining members of Wilbur’s generation (one sibling and his wife, and two spouses of siblings) and no one recalls any photos of Wilbur displayed in the home. Uncle Roy thinks it was his brother Albert who told him about his dad’s breakdown and he and his wife don’t remember any conversations about Wilbur. Albert’s wife recalled a conversation she had with my grandmother:

I believe it was your grandmother who told me your grandfather suffered what was then called a nervous breakdown, it seems soon after Wilbur died and he spent some time in a facility, then I assume needed to stay nearby after his release perhaps for further treatment and that is when he stayed with Ethel and Mark. It would seem likely that your grandmother moved back to Mystic sometime around this time because of the lack of money. I can’t imagine how torn she must have been.

I haven’t been able to find documentation to fill in the gaps on this. There is that odd postcard from a health resort in Excelsior Springs, Missouri that just says “Wilbur” on the back. This was saved for a reason, as was the notation of Wilbur’s name on the back.

Excelsior Springs is not close to either Rockford, Il or Mystic, Iowa. Did Grandpa take a trip to Excelsior Springs in hopes that the mineral waters and baths would bring relief and healing to his suffering? Might he have spent some time in treatment here?

The one thing I did find was a receipt from a doctor in Rockford for an examination in August. This was apparently a family practice clinic. Grandpa could have gone for an illness or to seek help with his depression or whatever form of distress his grief manifested.

So where were each of my grandparents in the months after Wilbur’s death?

Receipts from a doctor’s office shared in my last post, show a change of address for my grandfather between the January 29th payment and the April 12th payment, moving from the home he and my grandmother shared on Church St. to the address of his sister Ethel and her husband’s home on Kishwaukee St.

The 1930 Census, taken April 5-7 shows my grandfather listed as a lodger with his sister and brother-in-law.

Of particular interest is the D in the column for marital status. No other evidence of divorce and not part of our family story. I wonder who provided information to the census taker and how they worded their answer to the question. Whatever was said by whom, the clear indication is that my grandparents were not living together at that time. Tom was in Rockford and Eveline had returned home to Mystic.

I also found a Mortgage document dated 30 April 1930, although on the reverse, the year looks like 1931 – so I’m confused. What do you think?

date on front

date on back

If it is 1930, then my grandfather made a trip to Mystic where they signed a mortgage on a piece of property. If 1931, then it was the following year.

My mother was born July 7, 1930 and I have a photo copy of the birth announcement sent to Grandpa to let him know of her arrival. He was in Rockford when she was born. The address is to the home of his sister Ethel and her husband.

And the receipt to the doctor above places my grandfather in Rockford at least through August.

Albert’s wife put me in contact with Ethel’s and Mark’s daughter:
I do remember hearing about Wilbur’s death but not more than you have already. You are correct that uncle Tommy stayed with my folks for a time as did my uncles from both sides of my family. My folks were the first to go to Rockford to find work during the depression.  I don’t think uncle Tommy stayed too long with them as the other brothers arrived  to find work and bring up their families.

So I can’t confirm that Grandpa spent time in a facility, only that he lived with his sister Ethel and her husband for a time after Wilbur’s death.

None of the other children had family names, so I guess that nugget was true. Grandpa seemed to feel it bad luck.

Of more interest is how my grandparents dealt with their grief and loss over the years. As noted above, no photographs or mementos of Wilbur were visible in their home.

Albert’s wife : Your grandfather never mentioned Wilbur in my presence; Al had indicated that his Dad had never gotten past that loss.  It hit me as I was putting this together that he was very vocal about the bad things that happened to him and for lengthy periods of time after but this was not one of them.

Your grandmother spoke to me just once about Wilbur; I don’t remember the circumstance but was likely sometime after Stephen was born. She was very matter-of-fact, rather dispassionate I think. She said that Wilbur had been very sick with what was then referred to as red measles and he didn’t get better. 

I always thought of my grandfather as a worrier. I would help my grandmother with the dishes and he would interject, “Be careful. That knife is sharp.” Or, “Be careful crossing that street.” or “Don’t get too close to the road.”

My grandmother, on the other hand, gave me the sharp knife to dry, sent me down the street on errands, let me try my hand at ironing (for which I carried a scar on my forearm for a good many years), among other things. She was not overprotective. Although very loving toward me, she was also not overly affectionate. She held me in her lap in her rocking chair by the window, but did not smother me with kisses. We played games together, but I got no advantage for my young age. She didn’t tolerate whining (see 1st Grade Hairstory) or crying that she thought excessive or without good cause. “Go upstairs if you are going to cry. I don’t want to hear it.” She stayed at home and worked hard in the house and in the large vegetable and flower gardens. Practical. Down to earth. Hard working. Disciplined routine. I loved her dearly and I know she felt the same about me. Hence her name used in the name of this blog.

I picture her as the one who had to be strong. The one who carried on. The one who had no choice but to do so. There was a young son to care for and a baby on the way. Perhaps this set the pattern for how she lived the rest of her life.

Although there were no pictures or remembrances of Wilbur visible in their home, all of these photos and papers were kept tucked away in a safe place.

Things I may have missed or gotten wrong: 

Maybe Albert was with my grandparents and Wilbur in Rockford. My belief that he stayed in Mystic with his grandparents I assume I got from a conversation with my mother. Al’s wife remembers this: Your grandmother said Al had them (measles), too, but he wasn’t nearly as sick. I had assumed that Wilbur got sick first and Al got them from him but if the boys were not together with their parents then that might not be true.Your grandmother didn’t provide any details and I didn’t ask questions.

I’ve probably made mistakes throughout this series. I’m always open to correction.

Better days:

I received this nice photo of my grandparents with Ethel and Mark after making contact with their daughter. Taken some years later, in better times.

Tom, Eveline, Ethel, Mark

My grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in 1973, surrounded by most of the kids and grandkids. Unfortunately, I was not there.

And this last photo, which almost kind of matches the prompt photo of two people with big smiles. It is one of my favorites of them.

And here I lay to rest the story of an uncle I never knew, Wilbur Thomas Hoskins.

Wilbur, Eveline, Albert

April 3, 1924-January 18, 1930

Vaccinate. It saves lives.

Sepia Saturday provides bloggers with an opportunity to share their history through the medium of photographs. Historical photographs of any age or kind become the launchpad for explorations of family history, local history and social history in fact or fiction, poetry or prose, words or further images. If you want to play along, sign up to the link, try to visit as many of the other participants as possible, and have fun.

Chris and Max, Taken At Fulham Town Hall, 1949 (Third Party Album)

Please visit other participants at Sepia Saturday where you may find photos of big smiles or big stripes or big ties!

Sepia Saturday – Just Standing by a Car

Sepia Saturday provides bloggers with an opportunity to share their history through the medium of photographs. Historical photographs of any age or kind become the launchpad for explorations of family history, local history and social history in fact or fiction, poetry or prose, words or further images. If you want to play along, sign up to the link, try to visit as many of the other participants as possible, and have fun.

I seem to have quite a few photos of people and their cars, so I decided to stick with the ones that most approximate the photo prompt. No research or insight – or even a good story – here today, just a roundup of some family photos.

I am no expert on cars, but my best guess is that most of these are cars from the 1940s.  While you scroll through my photos, enjoy Route 66, composed in 1946, and performed here by the songwriter, Bobby Troup.

I’ll begin with my grandfather’s cousin, Pearl (Bill) Hoskins. Bill’s wife sent this photo to my grandfather shortly after his death, thinking, I suppose, that my grandfather would like to have this remembrance of him.

There are a few photos of my mother standing by cars. I think I have placed them in chronological order. The little girl is yours truly.

My mom always seemed to look nearly model perfect in photographs.

This car might be a little too modern for a match, but what do I know? In any case, Mom deserves a third photo.

A day when I played dress up with my Grandmother Abbie.

I believe I was a visitor from France.

I’ll end with this shot of my cousin, beaming from the inside of a car.

(Oh geez! I just realized that I posted this identifying my uncle as his son, my cousin!. Just goes to show, I need to re-read my posts at least a dozen times and then sleep on it before posting.)

Hop in your roadster and take a spin over to Sepia Saturday, where you can see how others have interpreted the prompt.

P.S. I may be a bit sporadic in my participation over the next couple of months. I explained my potential absence in my previous SS post, which I posted so late that only a couple of people saw it. Environmental Impact?

Sepia Saturday – Environmental Impact?

Sepia Saturday provides bloggers with an opportunity to share their history through the medium of photographs. Historical photographs of any age or kind become the launchpad for explorations of family history, local history and social history in fact or fiction, poetry or prose, words or further images. If you want to play along, sign up to the link, try to visit as many of the other participants as possible, and have fun.

I lived the first two years of my life at a truck stop. I might also include the time I was growing in my mother’s womb. My grandparents, Charles and Abbie Smith, owned the truck stop; I think we lived upstairs. My dad had a motorcycle business on the same property.

After my parents’ divorce, I spent every other Saturday at my grandparents’ truck stop. Saturdays were supposed to be time with my dad, but it was more fun and more appropriate for a little girl to be supervised most of the day by her grandmother. Grandma Abbie managed the inside of the truck stop – serving coffee, cooking diner fare, waiting on customers, washing dishes, selling groceries and cigarettes and whatever else truck drivers and travelers and local farmers might need or want.

I looked forward to being old enough to help my grandfather outside – pumping gas or asking customers what kind of gas they wanted. Regular or ethyl? I thought it would be funny to ask, “Lucy or Ethel?”

My mother and I lived with her parents and I spent my days following my grandmother Hoskins around and helping her. We lived in Iowa and winters were cold. During the winter, the house was primarily heated by a large coal burning heater that stood in the living room. On cold winter mornings, my grandmother would lay my clothes for the day on the coal stove to warm them, then carry them upstairs to me to ease my transition out of my warm bed into the chilly room. That’s the coal heater on the far left, although it is not the one I remember. Perhaps it was replaced for a newer model. There was an oil burning heater in the kitchen, but I don’t remember it being used as much.

This was the general pattern of my life until my mother remarried when I was seven and we moved away.

After we moved away, I spent a month every summer and every other Christmas with my father. By then, my dad had a small house on the property next to the motorcycle business. I would spend most of my days at the business – where my dad was, often hanging out in the repair shop where engines and mufflers were worked on and engines were revved to listen to the inner workings.

Sometimes I played at office work…

or played pinball (free for me!) in the show room and, when I was older, I helped assemble Hondas out of the shipping crates. We went almost everywhere by motorcycle and attended many motorcycle races and hill climbs. Sometimes my dad was a participant.

There were go-cart races on Saturday nights on the property behind the business. And I would ride a Honda 90 around and around the track on long summer days. The property itself was surrounded by cornfields.

Less than a year before my mother remarried, my grandfather Charles died of cancer. I remember him as a smoker, yet I have no memory of seeing him smoke or of any photographs that indicate that he was a smoker. Perhaps this is a false memory that a six-year-old child created after hearing that her grandfather had “three kinds of cancer,” having a vague memory of her last visit to him in his bed at home with what seemed to be a large wound in his chest, and knowing that smoking causes lung cancer and that the wound was approximately where his lungs were. I suppose I should verify my memories with someone.

I don’t have a lot of clear memories of time with my grandfather, but photographs show, and my feelings confirm, that I felt love and affection and ease with him.

I didn’t think I’d participate in Sepia Saturday this week. I was supposed to be in the hospital undergoing a complex surgery today and have had other things on my mind. But I caught a cold, had a fever two nights ago, and my surgery has been postponed. So here I am.

I didn’t know what to do with the prompt photo, but the last couple of days I’ve been pondering why I seem to be a cancer maker (three times now) when there is so little cancer in my family. One grandfather, who I would assume developed cancer due to environmental toxins. Grandpa Charles was a farmer for many years, then he purchased the truck stop and pumped gas every day. So whether or not he was a smoker (prompt photo connection), there were certainly cancer causing agents in his life. One first cousin had a lymphoma. And my mother’s sister died of cancer. That’s it. Not any of my sisters or parents or other cousins or other aunts and uncles. Just these three.

My first cancer was nothing. It was cured before it was diagnosed. I had a large nodule on my thyroid and the doctor said it had to come out whether or not there was any cancer. The biopsy confirmed cancer, but the doctor said it was so small that it could easily have been missed in the biopsy.

About five years later, I was diagnosed with a very rare and aggressive Non-Hodgkins lymphoma.

The other day, something popped up on my Facebook feed about blood cancers and I decided to read it. It linked several blood cancers, including Non-Hodgkins lymphoma with exposure to benzene. Where does one find benzenes?

From The American Cancer Society:
“The highest exposures have typically been in the workplace, although these have decreased greatly over the last several decades due to federal and state regulations. Some other exposures have also gone down over time, such as the amount of benzene allowed in gasoline…
… Other people who may be exposed to benzene at work include steel workers, printers, lab technicians, gas station employees, and firefighters. Federal regulations limit exposure to benzene in the workplace …
… Areas of heavy traffic, gas stations, and areas near industrial sources may also have higher air levels …
…Cigarette smoking and secondhand smoke are important sources of exposure to benzene. Cigarette smoke accounts for about half of the exposure to benzene in the United States. Benzene levels in rooms containing tobacco smoke can be many times higher than normal.

Benzene is known to cause cancer, based on evidence from studies in both people and lab animals. The link between benzene and cancer has largely focused on leukemia and other cancers of blood cells.”

A document created by the EPA contains the following:
“Benzene is found in emissions from burning coal and oil, motor vehicle exhaust, and evaporation from gasoline service stations and in industrial solvents. These sources contribute to elevated levels of benzene in the ambient air, which may subsequently be breathed by the public.”

Other sources I read included exposure to weed killers.

I didn’t mention that I also worked for ten years with a boss who smoked like a chimney. I shared office space with her and later spent many hours in her private smoke-filled office. Once I became pregnant, I refused to go into her office.

And now, about five years after my lymphoma diagnosis, here I am with ampullary cancer – hopefully caught early enough for the primary treatment – a major abdominal surgery commonly known as a Whipple procedure. Whether I will need further treatment depends on what the surgeon finds when he gets in there.

I have no evidence that my exposures to benzene at such a young age has anything to do with my cancers, but it is something I’ve been thinking about. Perhaps there is some genetic predisposition. My family doctor suggested to me today that I should surely qualify for genetic testing with my history. (I am the only child of this union. All of my siblings are half sisters.) Perhaps there is a toxic mix – a genetic pre-disposition paired with a trigger. Who knows? Some questions have no clear answer.

In any case, I hope we can get back to protecting our environment and ourselves from the many, many toxins that impact our health.

If I’m MIA from my blog and from Sepia Saturday for a while, you know why. Once I have surgery, I’ll be in the hospital about a week and then have a another 6-8 weeks of recovery at home. Hopefully, I’ll have a brain that functions reasonably well and a level of comfort that will allow me to keep up here.

I apologize for the rather morbid content of my post, but it is what I am thinking about today.

A prompt photo that features cigarette advertisements and a building in disrepair.

Please visit other participants who have surely posted fun photos and interesting takes on the prompt by clicking this link: Sepia Saturday.