Click on the hyperlink below to view a particular category of pages.

Note: The pictures will not appear with this publishing but will appear soon when I work on the pictures below and the picture pages.

Note 2: Any hyperlinks found within the text will most likely not work. It is best to only use the links found in the table above. This same table will eventually appear on all family pages and any incorrect hyperlinks within the text will be replaced with correct ones. During reconstruction I may miss a few, however.

An Apology:

In the 70 years of my life, I have never spelled my ancestors names wrong. By some weird circumstance I have spelled Connor with one n throughout this document. To date no one has corrected me. Aunt Lil finally noticed it. It is in many paragraphs, on many pages, and in many page names. It will take a while for me to make changes to them all. I apologize to all family members for this amazing error.

Who are We???????

We are a close knit family. How many? We lose count from day to day. We know that the house is always filled with many wonderful people. There's a Dad, a Mom, many children and many grandchildren. Add a nephew and niece and you have us.
We were a family of runners. Now most have spread in places not conducive to running and the old man has aged a bit. He still coaches high school Track and Cross Country, however. The mother continues to hold the whole thing together.

From where did we come????????????????

                             Great Gramma Weldon during an Island visit

Gramma and Grampa Connolly

                                                                               Gramma and Grampa Doherty

                      How we were

      Pat          Sean                      George

  Joel       JoAnne  Paul    Dan Carrie Art

           Nat        Dad         Mom

                                                                  How we are

               (Taken when family gathered for Deerfield Fair Weekend of 03)

I've finally started to fill in the family history. Anyone wanting to put in their 7 cents worth, just send it along and I'll include it. My remaining siblings and in-laws are the only ones who can make sense of my early life. Add what you want. Many typos have to be fixed, sorry.

Note: The hyperlinks imbedded in the text will eventually lead to pages within our families' family trees. They do not have pages ready yet but will be done within this week for the period of our lives presently included in the following narrative.

Flashback 69+ years:

May 10, 1934 and the Jamaica Plain Era

         I wonder what type of a day it was for this was the day I was born. I’ve been told, I think, that I was born somewhere just before midnight in Boston, Mass. I guess I should have asked over the years; but I think that I was born at St Elizabeth’s Hospital since my parents, George and Agnes (Connor) Connolly, were strong Catholics and tended to stay within the confines of the Church.

I know that we were living in a lovely large house up on Oak View Terrace in Jamaica Plain, Mass. The house belonged to my mother’s mother and father  who lived on the third floor. My Aunt Anna, husband George, and 5children lived on the second floor, and our family, of 5 children before I arrived and 7 after the baby, Lil, arrived 4 years later, lived on the 1st floor. (Lil was named after my father's half sister who died in her twenties around the time I was born. Lillan Rita Ryan was known to be a lover of dance. She worked in a 5 and 10 cent store most likely in Roslindale Square.) Lest anyone get the picture of a 3 family tenement, which was common in JP at that time; the house was a single family home. I guess that is where I got the perchance for having an open door to all. We saw no problem in our cousins traipsing through our rooms and up the wide circular stairs to their rooms. We of course reciprocated and took this same stairway up through their rooms to play there or continue on up to visit my grandparents in the rooms above. At least we children didn’t; it just meant more excitement in our lives. I most likely shouldn’t extend the same good feelings to our parents and uncle and aunt who may have longed for a bit more privacy. As I remember my grandparents didn’t venture off the third floor too much. In fact it was only a month after my birth that my grandfather died. My grandmother lived another 4 years and my recollection of her is not that vivid.

            I remember those days on the hill as happy ones. We lived as one big family. The neighbors usually found it hard to identify to which family we belonged. Of course we didn't consider it very important.  We had just gotten over, or were just getting over, the great depression. This fact is one that colored our every thought and shaped all of us for years to come. Our aversion for wasting belongings is, and will always be, rooted in these times. We were children of this depression and children of parents who had endured this depression while raising a large family. My grandfather had owned a large painting firm and many homes before these times. At his death he didn’t even own the home in which we lived; it was mortgaged by the local butcher.

            Another thing that was a great influence in my early life was our experiences during the Great Hurricane of 38. Many of the large Oaks, from which our street got its name, came down that night; including one that broke through the back wall of our house and ended up in our kitchen. It followed my older brother Tom in the back door just after he came in from the back porch; the back porch was gone within minutes of him leaving it. I like to think that the hurricane blew in the last of our family, our baby sister Lil. The first of the many coincidences that my future wife and I would share was the birthday of this sister. She was born on the first birthday of my future wife.

            It was only a few months later after the death of my grandmother that my parents took Agnes, Mary, Connie, Therese, Tommy, me, and Lil to our new home in West Roxbury. This was exciting because we were the first, and it turned out the only one of my mother’s sisters to move to the country. We were no longer city folk by the 30’s standards. It was also with this move that my memories of my father’s parents  begin. My maternal grandmother lived not too far from our new house with the only grandfather that I can remember, my father’s stepfather, Grampa Ryan. Using that title doesn’t seem quite right since I never heard my father refer to Grampa Ryan as anything but his father. His natural father had died when my father was only 12.  ( We never seemed to then and don't now use terms like half, step, or the like. Using them here is really strange for us.My grandmother spent her many hours sitting in her wheelchair at her third floor apartment window. We would wave to her and hope for a return wave from her each time that we would pass on the trolley car that ran by her house.

            This house is to be the only home I would know until I moved into my own home after JoAnne and I had gotten married. This may be the time to introduce my future wife as she was as a one year old. JoAnne Weldon Doherty was born on December 19, 1937 in the Dorchester section of Boston. Her family like ours was a working class city dwelling family. Like our’s, their household also contained extended family. Her grandparents  lived with them from her birth. I was never to know Skippy, her grandfather , but little Gramma Weldon was to be a strong influence in our lives. I was also not to know my future wife’s father nor she mine; since both of them were to die at an early age long before we were to meet. As was the norm for most city dwellers of that time, her cousins also lived within walking distance of her early childhood home.

(we will use the Times New Roman type when dealing with my family’s history and Allegro BT when dealing with JoAnne’s family’s history. Once we marry we will use BrushScrD type for our own family history.

JoAnne Weldon Doherty, the second daughter of Joseph and Helen .  It was a cold, cloudy Sunday afternoon.  Mother and Dad had gone down to the pond below Weymouth for a ride.  I seem to think that they owned a cottage there.  Grandma Weldon was home in Dorchester cooking a boiled dinner.  It was mid-afternoon when Mother and Dad started home.  On the dirt road our the car developed problems.  Mother was not feeling to well and wanted to get home.  Of course, back then there were no garages or anything else, for that matter, open on Sunday.  Dad found a mechanic who lent him his tools, but  he couldn’t actually do any of the work.  Finally they were on their way again.  They arrived home to a good meal but part way through, Mother had to go to the hospital, The Dorchester Cottage Hospital.  It was somewhere not far from Codman Square.  And so I was born.

We lived at 78 Millet Street in a large house.  There was Grandma Doherty, whom I don’t remember, Skip and Grandma Weldon, Mom and Dad , a parrot and now me.  I was told that many nights that the only way that they could get me to sleep was to take me for a ride in our car.  The car, once the war came, was just in the garage , because the gas was rationed.  At some point it was sold and so we walked or took the trolley.  We often made a trip to Rosen store that was not too far away and it was near the train tracks and there was a large barrel  full of pickles.  I head stories of that being the place that Mother and Dad had met a few years before.  Mother was working there and Dad would come in and was quite taken by her. 

I was baptized at St. Leo’s Church  on Harvard street.  That was where Dad had gone from the time he was baptized and where he played on their baseball team.  It is where we went to church on Sundays.. 

Dad worked  at the Boston Naval Shipyard in Charlestown,   Before I was even thought of, Dad worked at the shipyard down in Washington DC.  Mother and Dad then lived in Maryland and had a German shepherd dog named Mack.  Once I came along, he became my dog..  There was never a time that Dad didn’t work at the shipyard.  Sometimes though, he worked at night.  He would come in to my room before he went to work and kiss me good bye and I would ask him to bring me home the moon.  Then one day he told me the moon was really much too big for him to bring home.  I couldn’t understand  why he would tell me that when I could clearly see it and it wasn’t all that big.

It was a very small world.  My Uncles, Aunts and cousins all lived within walking distance.  My cousin Jean was also my best friend.  We spent a lot of time together.  Eddie was her brother and a bit younger and he played with us.  We also took dance lessons at the Paul Gould studio with was not too far from Ashmont Station.  Our recitals were held at some building at Codman square. I remember Mother telling me that it would make me more graceful.  I don’t know what inspired Aunt Rose to have Eddie take dance.  I don’t think that he really liked it. 

I remember some of the things that happened while we lived at Millet Street.  It was a lovely old house and it is filled with happy memories.  One of the things that Jean and I and  Agnes, the girl next door, did was to bury Agnes’ little sister in a pile of leaves.  We piled every leaf that we could gather and put it on top of her and then went off to play.  Of course, we forgot all about her and when it was time to go in and we saw the pile of leaves we went searching through them frantically looking for her, but to no avail.  Let me tell you, we were appropriately scared.  Why did it never occur  to us that she simply slipped out of the leaves and went home.

There are so many memories of those days at 78 Millet Street but then the time came to move to Milton and time to go to kindergarten.  This happened at  Collicut  Elementary.  That first year was rather traumatic.  I can remember the room and it was pleasant enough and for a few weeks all went well.  Then I got sick.  I came the measles and I was very sick but then things got worse and I ended up with pneumonia.  From all reports, I all most died and so that was the end of kindergarten.  Good Doctor Nadel told  Mother and Dad that I had to be allowed to get a bit of dirt on me so that I could build up some immunity.  Now Mother was good at some things and so was Grandma and together if I got the least bit dirty I was brought in, washed up, redressed and sent out again.  My Grandfather, Skip, sat on the front steps and watched me.  When cousin Jean was over he would watch both of us.

I came to have some close friends in the neighorhood.  There was Peggy, Judy, Frances and Barbara and Jean Pulsiver.  And then there was a very special friend, Mrs. Emma Bragdon.  Mrs Bragdon was a widow who lived across the street.  She had a small flower garden with occupied all her outside Spring, Summer and fall time.  I was mostly impressed with her tiger lilies.  She always had a can with gasoline in it where she would put the cut worms that she found in the garden.. 

Judy  Peggy and I were best friends.  Judy Lang and I went to Collicut and Peggy went to  St. Agatha’s School.  Judy wasn’t a Catholic.  Peggy was horrified when Ash Wednesday come and went and I had no ashes on my forehead.  Peggy and Judy both had mother’s who were pregnant.  Oh how I wished for a bother or sister.  Both of them had younger sisters and I thought that was just the greatest thing.  In fact Peggy had two younger sisters .

We were all the oldest in our families.  We did almost everything together. Then one day my life changed forever.  Barry arrived.

 The West Roxbury Years

The house we moved into had been vacant for some time and my father had a lifetime of work to do to make it the lovely home that we were to enjoy. Within a year after moving to West Roxbury, I was to begin first grade in the Sophia Ripley elementary. It was only two blocks from our house so I soon learned to walk there with my big brother Tom as my guide and protector. This big brother, although only 3 years my senior, would always be my protector and my role model. Our big sister Therese was already a junior high student in the Robert Gould Shaw which was an entire mile from our house. Connie was supposed to remain in Jamaica High but his love for school was legendary. In fact he loved work even more and was soon working fulltime in the First National in place of sitting in a classroom. Mary remained in JP High in order to graduate that year. Agnes, the “genius” of the family (Mary would tell you until the day of her death, that she was as smart but everyone just noticed Agnes more) had graduated a few years earlier with the benefit of a couple of double promotions. In fact by the age of 17 she had graduated from 2 years of business school and was working in an accountant’s office.

            Our father was now working for a painting firm full time. Due to the fact that he was such a dependable and competent worker he worked year round. In the days of no holidays and no vacations, layoffs during slack periods was the norm and painters spent days during these layoffs at the union office waiting for jobs. The owner of the firm used my father even during the winter even if it meant working him at his own house in order to keep him on the payroll and avoid losing him to another firm. This was a boon to our family since it meant a paycheck each week which few families were able to enjoy. Our mother was a stay at home Mom and was the backbone of our family life. We were able to come home each afternoon to the smell of fresh made pies, cookies, and, our always favorite, Irish bread. Little did I know that my family life would be the forerunner of my own childrens' family life. I would be fortunate to marry a girl who would have the same values as my own mother.

            Our quiet existence would have a major upheaval in December of 41 when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor thereby opening War II. The first to leave would be Agnes  who would move in with Dick’s mother after their marriage and after Dick left for duty in the US Navy in our War against Japan. It was the norm that people with relatives in the German armed forces were sent to the Pacific theater.  Mary  would soon follow after meeting John who was facing deployment on the carrier Intrepid. This departure didn’t happen too quickly. I remember being in Portland with my mother who was visiting her sick sister. It was rather late on Friday night when a call came in from Mary with the news that she was getting married on Sunday afternoon and leaving for California on Monday so she could be near John’s home port. As unusual as this may seem now, it was a common, if not welcomed,  happening in those war days. Connie was next to go when he was drafted into the Army and headed for the European theater in the war against Germany. Our large family was quickly depleted.

Therese was soon working fulltime in the war effort. She was working in the “Cookie factory” up the road making “rations” for the servicemen. We no longer could stand at the window of the cookie factory and get our favorite cookies handed out to us by the women on the assembly line. The first time we got one of the C Rations handed out was the time we decided it wasn’t worth the wait at the window. Wow, how did our boys last. Someone forgot the saying that, “an army marches on its stomach.”

            Most of my fun times now centered around my big brother, Tom, and my baby sister, Lil. Fun times they were. Yes, there was a war on and yes, we did without but our life was good. Sugar was rationed, butter was rationed, and gas for just driving was non existent but we had many things that just ten years earlier we didn’t have during the depression. America had learned well during those hard days.  Like most kids, I had my paper route and collected fat, tin cans, newspapers, tin foil, etc. for the war effort. With all of this I still had my many hours of playing down at Billings Field. We’d play hours of sandlot baseball and then head for the tennis courts to play basketball. Few adults were around in those years to use the courts for tennis so the area was ours. When not at the ball field, as a country boy, I would be running in the fields adjacent to the parkway with my dog and riding my imaginary horse, Speed. We like to remember all the chores we did but I don’t think there were too many hours left for chores.

            As I got older and moved first into the Shaw Junior High and then Rossie (Roslindale) High, the playing got less and the jobs got more serious and longer in hours. First many hours were spent caddying for the rich men at the Charles River Country Club but then came the need for year round work and, like many kids of my day, I moved into the AP stores to earn my spending money. We like to think that we were supporting the family and we did indeed give our pay envelope in to our mothers every Thursday but I’m sure most of it found its way back into our pockets.

            One by one the older ones returned from the war and settled in the area. Connie came home for awhile and followed in our Dad’s footsteps as a painter. The war had changed many things, however. Life was a lot easier than that our parents had known. I’ll never will forget the day Connie came home from getting his first job as a painter in one of the old union shops of Boston. As he started telling about all the holidays he would have and of the weeks vacation he would get, my father grew concerned and questioned Connie on how he would live without pay for all that time off. When Connie explained that he would be paid for all these days, Dad tried to explain how companies didn’t pay you to stay home. As I said, things had changed; some for the better and some for the worse. For Connie, this was one for the better. It wasn’t long after this that Connie met and married Kitty Murphy, a sweet heart from an Irish girl from a large family of girls. Once again we were without any of the oldest. Our family was getting smaller. It had one less soon after Connie’s departure when shortly after graduating Tom joined the Army. Right after graduating from OCS as a second lieutenant, he  married his childhood sweetheart, Betty.

            During all these years there was one theme always in the back of my every action of my every day. My life was controlled by my love of my religion. While I remained a regular boy and regular boy things were part of my existence; deep behind it all was a lingering thought. I really knew that this wasn’t all my future. I knew that I was meant for something else. Behind it all was a belief that I would enter the priesthood. During high school I attended Mass every day and before I graduated I was sure that I would enter the seminary upon graduation. I never the less kept up my normal boy things. I dated and went to every social event at school. My religious plans were always getting a boost from my kid sister who was also planning a religious life. She too, however, maintained a normal teenage girls existence. Half of my time was spent hauling her and all her girlfriends around to every dance in Boston.

            Upon graduation I entered the School of St Philip Neri, a Jesuit school for delayed vocations. I was really not as qualified a one with a delayed vocation like most of my older classmates, but I needed a little more grounding in Latin studies. Within weeks of entering St Philip Neri, my all so happy life suffered its first tragic experience, the death of my beloved father. As he seems to have been hidden behind the sentences of this narrative, he was in fact hidden within his quiet life. He was a very quiet person but a very strong individual. His work ethic, his strong belief in God, his strong commitment to his wife and children, and his many other fine qualities have shaped the lives of everyone of his offspring. The funeral procession of this very simple man was over a mile long. His wake was attended by hundreds of people. The flowers sent to surround his casket filled the house, then the porch, and, when there was no more room for them, they were sent to local hospitals. So many people respected him for his many qualities. A hole the size of a truck was thrust into our lives. Our anchor was lost to us. We now had to make it on our own. Fortunately we had another anchor who had always been there for us. Our mother would keep us going.

            Within a few short years I would be gone into the seminary, left, entered the Navy for four years, and returned to the seminary and Lil would become a Franciscan nun. She was destined to spend her whole life in this endeavor, working in orphanages and schools as a teacher and principal. Therese would now be the only one at home with Mom. She would stay with her for many years while maintaining the role of the wonderful aunt to her many nephews and nieces.

            My years in the seminary taught me so much but I was not destined to enter the priesthood. These years, however, formed my character and prepared me for my role as father to my many children and husband to my wonderful wife.

            I was to meet the women with whom I have spent these many years within a couple of years after leaving the seminary. Like me, JoAnne Doherty was a social worker  for the Boston Public Welfare Department. We worked in different offices but our districts were adjacent. A mutual friend worked in JoAnne’s office and when she was looking for someone to help find a client’s son this friend gave her my name. She called, I responded and I knew that this was my future wife. Within weeks of our first meeting we were engaged and  within less than a year we were married. 

May 1964:  We start our family:

            After our wedding in May of 64 we moved into a small apartment in North Quincy not to far from my sister, Mary. While living in North Quincy, Art Jr. was born was born, after a hair raising ride to Quincy Hospital in the midst of a early Sunday morning blizzard.  Living in the apartment gave us a great opportunity to spend time just enjoying our early days of marriage. We spent many hours meandering along Wollaston Beach and/or visiting Mary for evening ice cream social hour. Just a month before our marriage, Mary had  lost John, who finally succumbed to his 14 year battle with Lupus. After the War John and Mary had settled in the Quincy area and raised their three children. Many of my early summers had been spent with Mary and John both at their summer place in Kingston and later at their home in Braintree after John became sick. Mary was also the first one of the family that JoAnne met when I brought her to meet Mary on the very night we met. So it was good for us to build on this close bond that Mary and I had built over the years. It was good for Mary to have someone dropping in evenings to fill her lonely hours. It was certainly good for JoAnne and I to learn from a big sister who had experienced a life of great happiness but also great sadness. The Clarke nephews and nieces, as did all my siblings kids, were to play a close role in our future lives.

Shortly after we married it was first very evident that our both working as social workers was going to bring too many negatives into our young married life. As a result JoAnne first left social work and become a "stay at home Mom"; most likely the most important factor in the creating of the family environment we were to build over the years. It also became evident that a social workers salary was not a good financial foundation for raising what we hoped would be a large family so I also left the Welfare Department and began my 25 year career as a programmer and systems analyst for Honeywell Computers.

Our Holbrook Times

Although we loved our little apartment and our wonderful little neighbor, Helen, we soon realized that we would need more room once Joey came along. We spent many long hours searching the south shore and upper cape area for a home. We finally settled in Holbrook, Ma. when we found the perfect little home on 2 acres of pine grove.  The house and the land were perfect! Perfect also were the neighbors we found. Big Ed, a 32 year career Navy Boatswain Mate, and Nan would become the next mentors in our family building years. These were happy years; after Joey arrived we next added George. Our young family soon added chickens and horses on these all two small couple of acres. Giving rides to the neighbor kids and traversing the town delivering manure on our little pony cart soon endeared us to many of our neighbors. What had happened to the two city born and raised young couple. We were fast becoming country bumpkins while still living on the fringes of the city. Of course our ties with our nephews and nieces became a lot stronger with the addition of every animal. Going to visit Aunt JoAnne and Uncle Arthur soon became the thing to do. Even my beloved oldest sister, "Proper Agnes", enjoyed her visits to our little "farm". Of course everyone else got immense enjoyment from seeing Agnes, dressed to the hilt in silk, lace, and 5 inch spikes, traipsing through our chicken coop. Chicken poop from the chicken coop didn't really go with Agnes' normal attire.

During these years our close ties with our older nephews and nieces, many of them closer to us in age then our own siblings, became closer. George Clarke, in Bentley college by now, would drop in night after night just to chat. It soon became evident that a young college boy, without a father to whom to turn, simply needed a sounding board for his many thoughts. Normally JoAnne would become this sounding board while I slept on the couch in anticipation of my third shift in Honeywell's computer labs. Many nights he would follow me to work and spend the initial hours of my shift with me. Jeanne and Agnes become an integral part of our family life as well. It was also in these years that Richard Fettig and his wife Carol became not just relatives but close friends as well.  It wasn't just the older ones that came to spend time with us. The younger nephews and nieces started coming around whenever they got someone to bring them. Agnes' and Dick's daughter, Lil, would start spending her "Tomboy" vacations with us. Biggie, Connie and Kitty's son Danny, would begin here the tradition of spending summers on the farm.

It was also during these years that our lifelong friendship with Ted and Gail Alcarez had its origins. We had many things in common with this young conservative catholic couple who became our constant companions. One thing, however, that we didn't share was our gene pool. While we continued to have boys, they continued to have girls. They only slipped up once; we had two away from our norm, the first simply being a Tomboy, the second being a mystery as most will agree.

Our own little family was starting to expand. Art Jr. was already becoming the serious one. Joey was now becoming the cute one. We started worrying how everyone making so much of Joey would effect the other kids. On one of our weekly shopping trips we learned the lesson about what is really important to kids. We were traversing the aisle in our usual slow manner as every female, both young and old, stopped us to admire our angelic looking son. (Little did they know how far from an angel he was or yet how close.) One older woman in her hurry to finish her shopping passed by without even a quick look. Art Jr. screamed, "Hey, lady, look at my pretty brother." The fabled sibling love of our children had been born. George, in the mean time, was fast achieving his, as Connie called it, reputation as the house wrecker. He was, is, and will always be our "bull in the china shop". Sean was on the way.

Although we loved our little house and our wonderful neighbors we also fast becoming out of the norm in this neighborhood. Our family was busting the seams of our little house and our menagerie of animals were busting the lot lines.  From our search for land just a few short years before, we knew that we would not find our needed space in the south shore area. As a result we made the big leap and began looking in Southern/middle New Hampshire. Our search took us to Deerfield and to our "dream" farm. When we decided to move, Richard and Carol decided to move with us. It turned out that, after the sale of our house fell through, they decided to buy it instead of moving with us. I often wonder how our lives or theirs would have been effected if they had moved with us.

Deerfield is in our Veins:

The initial experiences of finding and deciding to buy the house gave us a lot of knowledge on just what environment into which we were moving. Just how different was New Hampshire some 35 years ago. This question also came to me just last night . Here in Deerfield we have suddenly got lots of people who would have had absolutely nothing in common with the country folk we were to find back in 68. I realized that our life had changed drastically without my giving it much thought. Well, we had a very similar change in life style in the summer of 68. JoAnne and I had spent many hours reading the special section in the Sunday Globe that covered New Hampshire properties for sale. We found one during one of our early Sunday morning ad scanning. Since it was too early to call we decided to make the trip up to Concord and contact the realtor when we got up there. We arrived at Concord about 10:30 or so and located the "real estate office." Actually it was the apartment of a realtor doing business out of his home. Since the door was open and we figured that he must be nearby; we figured that we'd wait around. Certainly no one would leave a door open right in the middle of a city, right in the middle of the capital of the state. this wasn't some hick town. this was the capital.  We made a few trips around Concord and kept checking back to no avail. We finally gave up and headed back down to Holbrook. We finally contacted the realtor later that night. He told us that "when it got to be 8:00 and no one had come by looking for property; he figured he might as well go fishing." No high pressure sales pitch would come from this man. We made an appointment to meet him the next day and look at the property. Since JoAnne was only days away from giving birth to Sean, she had an appointment with Dr Jacobs that morning. The people in New Hampshire most likely heard Dr. Jacobs when he asked why we thought it was OK for JoAnne to travel up to New Hampshire in her condition. JoAnne's normal answer, "You never told me I couldn't." As a result Richard and Carol came with me to look at the house and JoAnne was never to see it until we moved in. Oh, the trust in my young wife! The moving in process was certainly an experience. In the weeks that followed our looking at the property, we completed the sale of our house and packed for the move. On the morning of the move the old owners informed us that they still hadn't found a place to live. They saw nothing wrong with us just moving in with them until they found a place. We found something wrong with it! We informed them that we would move our stuff into a couple of the spare rooms and that we would move a camping trailer onto the property to live in until they moved. They did find a place within the next couple of weeks and we were able to move into our next "dream house".

Dream house it was, at least to us. It was a 16 room, 200+ year old colonial on close to 200 acres of land. Our neighbors, about 5 or 6 of them within approximately 2 miles,  proved to be the greatest neighbors and lifelong friends. The town was just what we were looking for. It was Small Town, U. S. A.! The "center of town" was really  only two stores on rt. 107. Even these were separated by over a half of mile. One was run by the nicest old couple, George and Carrie. It was really some shelves in the front couple of rooms in their house and a "century old" gas pump out front. I think that it was originally a water pump and  it still had to be pumped it by hand. George and Carrie soon proved to be our main source of news about the town and its people. It was Carrie who would tell us what invitations not to accept without telling us why. It was Carrie who would slip the six pack of beer into a bag on a Sunday morning before the legal time of noon. She never thought that those silly people "in Concord" should be able to tell her when she could sell beer. There were a few paved roads around town but they were only to impress the visitors. The locals saw no reason to waste money on pavement when a well oiled dirt road was all that they needed. It meant taking a detour sometimes in the wet times.  Like getting to the town clerks house. You didn't take the short cut over swamp road. It actually has a name now but to us then it was simply the swamp road. Our car registrations were done in the town clerks office. She had no office hours; in fact she had no office! You just stopped by her house when you were in the neighborhood. If she happened to be making Robert's supper, you just sat in the kitchen and she filled up the paper work while she prepared the meal. Of course as the years went by, we made progress. The "new folk" wanted her in an office. So she moved into town hall and worked part time. We no longer had to go to her house; we could go to an office. Of course we could only go the few hours that she was paid to be there. We couldn't go any time of the day or night, seven days a week. She never changed, however. Sometimes you'd have to wait hours while she check on the news of everyone ahead of you and passed on whatever news she thought the person should know. Now we need a town "newspaper"; well, really it's a news letter. Yep, things were a bit different then. She really didn't follow too many rules. One year JoAnne stopped by the office to register one of our $100 specials, as our close friend Jay McDuffee called them. She arrived at the same time as Ruth did so she offered to help her carry in her paper work. One of the packages was an old shoe box. JoAnne just set it down on the counter while Ruth started setting up for the day. After a bit she noticed the shoe box and said, "I better put those away some where; they're the absentee ballots for the presidential election.

As stated above the neighbors were not close physically but we found out that they would all prove to be the finest. Our closest physically were the Shores on the north side of our property and the Fowlkes on the South. Tom and Gertie Fowlke were the people from whom we brought our house. (Tom just died this week. We haven't seen either of them in a few years now. Gertie had grown up in Nazi Germany and those years had weighed heavily on her. She used to be on every talk show in New Hampshire. Tom was a really quiet man who deferred most things to Gertie's opinion. I think that he really had a lot of opinions of his own but I guessed that he never thought it worth the effort to argue with Gertie. Now Jay and I never felt the same urge to defer!) Up the top of the hill and down a dirt road were friends that would play an important part in our lives and development over the years and who would remain our friends even why we didn't live near them, Jay and Pat McDuffee and their large family. (Jay was a newspaper reporter for the Foster's Democrat and one of the fiercest conservatives I had ever met. He was also a friend who put no strings on his friendship. The Marine Corps was in his blood until the day he died. Art Jr. was to thrill his family when he got home and attended Jay's funeral in full dress blues.) The dirt road past the McDuffee's and ended in the yard of the Winslow's. (Wardie was a music teacher and that year they were living down in Plaistow while he taught there. He was and still is the director of the Epsom town band who have played in various local functions over the years.) Further to the south past Tom and Gertie's was Maurice Stevens, his wife and son Dwight. (Maurice was the road agent, the entire highway department, and the epitome of "old yankee". In fact they may have coined the phrase to describe Maurice. He seemed old then and he certainly seemed old when he was still driving the school bus up to recent years at the age of at least 200)

It was into this rural conservative old time values environment we brought our 4 young boys. An environment that was little boys' dreamland. Their menagerie of animals (or was it the Dad's) quickly grew. It grew by either kids' wants or friends needs to get new homes for animals.  More horses would be added (including a stud so that the mares could produce more foals), chickens would follow, and even a cow. Big Ed would add the first pig (Arnold) when little Eddie won it at a greased pig contest shortly after we moved. Flower, the cow (she was only a tiny Jersey heifer then but she had been bred, calved, and she was in milk) came when Joey said he wanted a cow. A trip over to Epsom to one of the local livestock haulers had turned up little Flower wandering among this herd of so many larger mixed breeds. By far our most unique addition came when Barret Connors from work told us that his landlord in Manchester by the Sea had to get rid of his Australian fainting goat. It appeared that all the old rich ladies were on the verge of fainting every time the goat would pin them against a building on one of his sojourns down town. These all came in the first couple of weeks. We didn't really plan it; it just happened. How could we refuse our kids or our friends.

The hustle and bustle of our happy family country living got a sudden jolt just 2 months after we moved in. As I was leaving for work early on a Wednesday morning JoAnne said that she was going to make an appointment at Dr. Argues that day. Although we had had an active day of hiking in our woods on Sunday, Joey had been very tired since. She called me only hours later to tell me that I had to come home. This country doctor wanted Joey checked at Childrens' in Boston. He may have been a "country doctor" but the specialists at Childrens' would tell us later that if Joey was to have been saved it would have only have been due to the speedy diagnosis of Dr. Argue. But saved he was not to be. Within two days Joey was to succumb to Acute Leukemia ( a rare form of Leukemia that hits every organ at once). Our beloved angel on earth was now one of God's angels in heaven. We returned to "our" parish in Holbrook for Joey's funeral (It was only the words from Fr. Crowley, a child hood friend of JoAnne's and a curate at our parish in Holbrook, St Joseph's, that somehow made sense out of this tragedy). Unable to decide what our future held we interred him beside John in West Roxbury at Mount Benedict, our family cemetery. (Plans are now being made to move him up here. We have planned this for years but it was only a recent death in the family that nudged us to buy our burial plot and begin plans for Joey's final move.)

While we were away in Massachusetts for Joey's funeral, we learned how good these neighbors really were. Our little family farm was cared for with a lot of love. A grieving mother and father and very confused young sons were cared for with this same love upon their return home. How many days Pat McDuffee proved to be a motherly friend as she simply sat and talked with us. How quickly the Shores became true friends and not just people up the road. The married daughter and her husband, Dick and  Marily Marquis, were there for us when ever we needed them. Each one helped us when our own family, all living in other states, were unable to help us. Our family and friends all helped make it through this horrific experience. What helped the most, however, was our faith in God and the words of Fr Crowley that still echo in my ears today.

Slowly our lives began to take shape once again. We owed it to our remaining 3 boys to grieve to ourselves and give them the attention they needed. None of them and none of the children that came after would ever, and should ever, take Joey's place. Some people, in their efforts to make things right, would say things like, "it's good you have the others and you'll most likely have more that will take his place." No, the void was there and will always be there. However, the others did keep us busy enough to assist us in returning to near normalcy.

During these years, JoAnne would remain the home maker and I the "bread winner". Both of us would always remain the team that raised our children and looked out for each other. Nothing would ever be as important as to interfere with this family's togetherness. My work at Honeywell would become both personally and financially rewarding but it would always be secondary in our decisions regarding the family.

The Horse Years 1967-

Initially we were not sure whether we would return to Massachusetts or to continue our quest for a more rural life here in Deerfield. Deerfield won out, however, and slowly we fitted into a pattern of life that would become second nature to us and the only type of life our children would ever know, that of country bumpkin when compared to their many cousins. I would shuffle between the two states as I continued to work for Honeywell, commuting with my good friend (a friend even to this day), Tom McGrath. Tom and Pat, although more conservatives than us in some ways, never the less shared many of our views on life, especially in child rearing and religion. They too were destined to rear a large family (14 children as well as raising a couple of their many grandchildren). Tom and my daily ride of in excess of an hour each way, were filled with conversations of the priorities of raising a family in the modern times filled with secular values. These conversations on the long commute I'm sure gave both of us support in these efforts of child raising.

The kids had Cocoa, Flower the cow, the fainting goat (can anyone remember her name?), I had Lightning, but the Mother didn't have an animal of her own. We started a search and found just what she needed. Many stories can be told about my Lightning, her barrel racing skills, her perchance of dumping riders who weren't ready for here instantaneous responses, etc. We needed an animal more in keeping with the Mother's character, however. Our search brought us back down into Massachusetts and into a rather urban environment where one would not expect to find an Appaloosa. We were not disappointed, however. In fact we found Disappointment. She was a roan App from the Money Creek Ranch in Minnesota. She was owned by a young fellow who also had one Money Creeks original studs, Money Creeks Hardwood. All of this would one day play an important part of our horse raising but only one thing was important. We had found just the right horse for the Mother. In fact this was the perfect horse for just about anyone. Her name came from the fact that she did not have the flashy colors of the normal App but her disposition made  up for any lack of color. She would prove to be a horse that we could put anyone on for a nice gentle ride. Little kids could ride her and she would always let them feel they were in control. She would always end up where she wanted, however. It was just that she would do it gently and slowly. We once put a little kid with two broken legs on her and she gave her the greatest of rides. The Mother and I would enjoy many late night rides with Dick and Merily after we brought Disappointment home. Brian McDuffee (the female Brian) would watch the boys while the Mother could take some time to relax and enjoy our rides.

As the years passed we would eventually acquire Many Creeks Hardwood and our years of breeding Apps would begin and just about take control of our lives. Having Woody standing at stud would also bring many people to our little ranch. Many of these people would become friends and we would enjoy their company in many years of showing and raising our horses. When you breed horses while raising a large family you better be ready to either sell the horse you breed or end up with a lot of horses. We never learned to sell them. It seemed more important to let each of the kids have their own horse. Of course that meant that each of their horses got bred and we ended up with more. Oh my!

As the years passed, our family grew. We finally got our first girl when JoAnne was born. When Patrick and Danny followed over the next couple of years, we really weren't sure that we actually had a girl. The Mother always remembering dressing up her little cherub in a white snow suit and sending her out to play with her brothers. Of course she ended up helping me muck out the stalls and her snow suit was no longer white. Her feminine side would have to wait for some years to show through. She was destined to grow up in the midst of a family of boys and would learn to fight for her spot amongst the best of them. I think that the boys would even give her the credit of being one of the toughest.

Our first five years in Deerfield slipped by ever so quickly. By "73" we found ourselves with six children and a slew of animals.  We kept getting further and further away from our urban roots. Few who met us would believe that we came from city folk. Each summer we took trips down to the Island to enjoy its beauty and visit with the Mom's PEI relatives. With each visit we found it harder to board the ferry for the trip back to the mainland. What we had found there was a community with values many years in the past. Family was number one. The older generation was important. Grandparents were held in respect and looked to for advice. The rearing of children was the role of parents and its success was all important. Kids looked to their parents for their needs and siblings were more important to each other than outsiders. Our vacation of 73 became a house hunting trip and a lovely farm overlooking the ocean is what we found. Upon our return we shocked everyone both in work when I gave my notice and within the family when we unveiled our plans. We were moving to Canada. We were going to be Islanders. How proud we would be when in future years the Islanders would refer to the "year we came home". You see, Islanders feel that all descendants of an Islander has a home on The Island. Provincial thinking? Yep! Good way to think? Yep!

The Island Years 1973-1978

Moving to another country, even if it is our northern neighbor, is a rather involved process. Getting approval as Landed Immigrants, selling our property in the States, finalizing the purchase of the farm on the Island, and transferring our American funds into Canadian took time. We completed it all and made the actual move into Canada in time for the kids to begin school at the Fortune Bay consolidated school at the beginning of the school year. The kids fit right into school, the Mom settled immediately into being a farmer's wife, and I settled into learning how to be a small mix family farm farmer. Actually we all settled into being family farmers. It took the entire family to operate a 200 acre farm (in addition to another couple of hundred acres of leased fields)  with upwards of 25 to 30 cows, 50 or more pigs, a hundred or so chickens, and the many Apps we brought with us. The horses would over time be a cause of financial drain on our small operating capital but they were part of our family and our past so they stayed. In fact they were certainly a fascination to the Islanders who loved good horses. In fact our stud actually helped purchase our first addition to our herd of one. A young farm boy approached me about having his mare bred. He couldn't afford a stud fee in cash; but he did, however, have a red Holstein that he was willing to trade for the fee. I went to see his father to get his approval and quickly learned the way of Islanders and their children. "She's the boy's cow and it is up to the boy if he wants to trade her or not." was Alex MacDonald's answer. So Robbie and I made the trade and neither of us were to regret it. He got a fine foal and we got a fine milker that we named Ravishing Rita from Revere after the girlfriend of one of our Stateside friends.

That fall we had many things to complete before winter hit, the least of which, and the one the Mom put on top of the priority list, was the installation of indoor plumbing. It was cute to see the kids chatting while they sat side by side on the two seater in the out house; but the Mom was not about to be heading out there in the winter. So we plumbed the house, while we purchase equipment, put up miles of fencing, plowed and harrowed acres of land, and milked the cows that we purchased from the neighboring farmers. That winter I also substitute taught at the Rollo Bay Consolidated School before I finally took a full time job teaching "undereducated" men on a government sponsored retraining program. The  extra income was certainly needed to supplement the money we received from the Creamery to which we sold our separated cream and the government subsidy we received for the cream we shipped. The skim milk we had after the separating process was fed to the pigs we raised and shipped to market. During the winter months we also cut soft wood from our wood lot and sold it to the local pulp yard who shipped pulp to the European paper markets.  In the spring we planted most of our fields in wheat and oats and under seeded with hay (a process that would be repeated every three years). We sold some of the wheat to grain buyers and kept the rest and the oats to bring to the mill to be ground for cow, pig, chicken, and horse feed.

The Islanders accepted us fully as neighbors and we still have many close friends down east. Of course most of the farmers were a bit skeptical that a family of Americans could plant fields and get them to grow. The proof was in the harvest, however; and after that first year we were also accepted as farmers. However, this respectdidn'tcome very easy. Each fall I would work "digging" potatoes with Dan McCrae on local farms. Mostly we worked for Elwood Ching down east near the Baltic Rd. (This is where Gramma Weldon was born and raised). Why Elwood? The only reason was that Elwood's wife was considered the best cook on the Island. In fact when Elwood contracted to do his brother-in-law's potatoes, a labor dispute began.  Dan led the crew in a work stoppage until Elwood's wife agreed to go down to her sister-in-law's to cook. The first day we climbed up on the digger to start our normal 15 to 16 hour day, I wasn't sure if I would last. The tractor took off at a great rate of speed which resulted in potatoes, plants, rocks, and a ton of red clay pouring off the digger's chains onto the "picking" table. My arms ached as I tried to pick the rocks, plants, etc off the picking table. Fortunately Elwood called a halt not too soon after we started on this frantic flight down the rows of potatoes (no one on the Island called them spuds, a potato is simply a potato). His words, "We aren't going to drive him to quit; so if we don't want to kill ourselves we better slow the process down a bit." Little did they know that a few more minutes was all they need to put me under the table. How close I came to failure that first digging season.

The years on the Island past by so quickly. Two more children were born, Paul that first winter and Joel two winters later. So our family contains two Canadians. A third came close as Nat was born the month after we moved back to the States. We loved our years there and we wonder what life would have been like had we remained there. As luck would have it we ended up in the middle of one of the rare bureaucratic/agricultural foul ups in Canadian history. One federal agency lent us funds to expand while another cut our share of the market. To ship would have cost me money. Rather than remain in debt and struggle to get out from under, we returned to the States and to my employment in Honeywell. A part of us all remained on the Island. The experience  is part of who we are and who we will become. The work ethic and our moral character are grounded in our Island years.

The Running Years: 1978 to Eternity

As we settled in to our life back in the States we were like vagabonds. I had initially moved in with Therese and my mother while JoAnne and the chldren had remained in Canada to await the sale of the house and the arrival of Nat. Neither of these seemed to be a good substitute for having the family together so a quick weekend trip made a united family.  The one rpoblem? Where does a family with 9 8/9 children live when you haven't a home. Of course you move into a 35 room old hotel with a family who has  12 children already.  Only the McGraths and Connollys would consider this a solution. We wanted to settle in Deerfield so that summer and fall was spent living with Tom McGrath and his family and in a 22 foot trailer in the Smith's back filed in Deerfield. The Lord was nice to us by giving us the warmest fall in history. We were able to exist through the fall without freezing nor spending too much time inside the travel trailer.

Art Jr. had gotten the running bug while we were still in Canada. His first coach? No not me, but the Mom. Art would run back and forth across the front pasture in front of the house. Mom would be working in the kitchen and count his laps each time he past into her view. He showed promise but none of us got too enthused. After returning to the States, Art got involved in a bit of running at George B White in Deerfield and occasionally he would go up and run with the Coe Brown team in Northwood. The coach was a little Irishman named Don Putman. His first big race, however, was over in Raymond in the State Jr. High Meet organized by Larry Martin who was then the Raymond High coach. This is the reason that the JR State XC meet is run now in Londonderry. Coach Martin took the meet to Londonderry when he went there to coach a couple of years later. Art did pretty well and decided that running may be his sport although he came back from Canada as a pretty good hockey player. (On the Island every Wednesday afternoon saw the entire school spend the school time on the ice at the local hockey arena. If you taught in Canada, you better know how to skate because this was part of the curriculum.) As it turned out Art went to Bishop Brady instead of Coe Brown and our families interest in running began. I was a pretty decent runner back in the 40's in Boston but 30+ years away from running, not to mention many years of smoking a few packs of El Producto Blunts each day, had dampened my ability in this area.

Never the less I bit on Art's suggestion to join him in his runs. The first day I agreed he thought 4 or 5 miles would be enough. Fortunately I had the sense to agree to the 4 or 5 miles by running back and forth between the house and Birch Rd., a distance of 1/4 mile. I would have made it down to Birch Rd. on the first lap if I hadn't succumbed to the temptation of lying on a neighbor's lawn in an attempt to die quickly before the suffering got too much for me to bear. However, the bug had caught hold and I was ready to get serious. I had read somewhere how running helped a person quit smoking. The truth is that the person had to quit or the running would kill you before the smoking got chance to finish the job.

It wasn't long after I began training with Art that the other kids joined in and the family had a small hobby to take up some of the spare time. Somehow the Brady coach, Don Levesque, got me involved with the team and then named me head coach of XC and Track. Mom became the team manger of the family running team and before we knew it, running took over our lives. Art remained the top member of the family running team as well as the number 1 runner on the Brady team and one of the better runners in the State. Once the pipe and cigars were done away with, my old ability returned and I was not too far behind him. In the first 3 months of my running career, I ran a number of 5K's and 10K's and finally moved up to a half marathon and within another 3 months ran a marathon. I wasn't long for the number 2 role, however. First George moved by me and the following year Sean did as well. The family was getting the reputation as a pretty good bunch of runners. Little JoAnne began to be recognized on the running circuit as a pretty good runner. In most local races she would take home the top female prize when she was only 10 and 11 years old. It was a normal sight to see a Connolly kid take home the trophy for youngest runner in the race while the older kids fought each other for the under 18 trophies. Our family trips were usually planned around a race in the area that we may be traveling either to or through. We joined the Colonial Road Runners down in Abington Ma. so we even got the chance to run with kids' Aunts and Uncles watching them

Major update is needed here for all parts of the family!!!!!! Things like the loss of our house to fire, the departure of the older kids to military service and of most of them to marriage.

We've changed a lot in the past couple of years. JoAnne and Jay moved their family to their new house at the mid point between us and Jay's family. Sean and Carrie slipped out of Pa. and ended up out in Fort Wayne where they have since set up their own business working as an interface between Sean's old company and the power companies. Latest update: Sean is now working as a salesman for a communications company. I think that he misses his helicopters. Art Jr. is still in SC (after coming back from Japan) and has around 18months on his Marine career. Pat and Shelley   moved back to the area with son, Austin, so Pat can find a job locally. They have since moved to Ohio via a short stay in Indiana with Carrie and Sean.  Dan has taken a new job as a TV cable installer in the NH area. Paul originally joined Joel this past year as a surveyor and they had recently returned to Joel's old company and normally work in any area of New England.  Since, however, Paul has started working as a car salesman in Concord. Nat was  working as a cook. Recently he began working in building maintenance with Geno.  Carrie, the baby of the family, was working as a waitress now while she was still working in a retreat center and helping the Dad with his coaching of XC and Track. When someone comes up with a 25th hour of the day she'll add a couple of more things. Actually since that last sentence was written she did add another job. she is now working as a one on one aid at the Deerfield Community school. This has now interfered with her work with the track team on a regular basis. She has now returned to college and is fully involved in all facets of college life. That sentence will give you the same confusion as we have year after year trying to keep track of her. George is working as the warehouse manager of a shipping firm right near us. I'll try to clear up this area soon.

Actually I am going to interrupt at this point on April 2nd 2008 and simply give a status report on the family. How we got to this point will be filled in this month as I get time..

Mom and I spend most of our days taking care of Megan while Amanda and Nat work. I am still coaching XC and Track at Trinity where Sarah, Samantha, and Nicole attend school. Mom is completely involved in all aspects of helping all her kids and their families in anyway she can. A lot of her time is spent cooking, baking, sewing, embroidering, quilting, gardening, canning, communicating via computer with her many kids, their spouses, her grandkids, and many many friends. We have transferred from St Anne/St. Augustine parish in Manchester after 25 years (a story unto itself) to St Joseph parish in Epping, (We'll do a catch up on this a big part of our lives and the lives of the kids). Our membership in St Annes, our relationships with fellow parishioners, etc. have shaped all of our lives. Mom will flush this out as she sees fit.

Note: the particulars of each family in the summaries below can be found in the family trees for each family that have links on our main family tree page. Just take the hyperlink that follows.  Mom and Dad's Family.

Art is presently considering moving back to NH after 22 years of being in South Carolina (20 years as a marine), 2 marriages, 4 children with Lynn (one of which, Megan, died at birth), and 3 stepchildren with Tammy. Maybe Art will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

George presently lives across the street from us with his wonderful wife, Billi, and their children (2 of the children from his marriage to Bobbie Anne {a third lives with Bobbie Anne in California}, one from his 11 year relationship with Carla who died 5 years ago last week, and 2 stepchildren from his marriage to Billi). George is presently working in the Walmart Distribution Center in Raymond plus subbing in the Deerfield Community School.  Maybe George will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

Sean lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana with his great wife, Carrie, and their 5 children. How the world has changed in the past 20 years or so. Sean works for a company  in North Carolina while living in Indiana and doing most of his work in any state east of the Rockies. Maybe Sean will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

JoAnne lives in a separate part of the house with us now with Jay and their two kids. They added on to the house a couple of years ago in an attempt to make life easier for us as we get older. It is a nice arrangement. Separate living areas, 2 kitchens, but a connecting door that can be open or closed at will. JoAnne teachers in the Manchester preschool for "handicapped children" which is the same school that Amanda and Nat's Megan attends.  Maybe JoAnne will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

Patrick lives in Dayton, Ohio with his Great wife Shelley, his stepson, Austin, and their daughter, Lillian. Pat works for Booz Allen in Dayton. He's a computer Nerd Plus!   Maybe Patrick will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

Daniel lives over in Allenstown with wife Roccio who he married while in the army down in Panama, and their 2 children. Maybe Daniel will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

Paul, his wife Sandy, and their two children share a house in Pittsfield with Joel. Paul is sellling cars in Tilton. Maybe Paul will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

Joel,our most recently married lives with wife, Beth, in the house that he and Paul remodeled into a 2 family. They will be moving to Fort Wayne this summer since Beth will be doing her internship in a hospital there.  Maybe Joel will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

Nat lives with his wife, Amanda and their very special child, Megan in Hooksett. Both work at a Nursing home near their home. Amanda is a diet aid and Nat has just returned this week to his off and on profession as a cook.  Maybe Nat will be able to supply the narrative to these years.

Our baby, Carrie, is married to Joey and they have Autumn and Kyle. Autumn is Joey's daughter, Kyle is her brother, and they are both my grandchildren. Joey is also my son in law's brother (JoAnne's husband for those who can't keep our family tree straight) so we keep everything in the family. Hey, my brother in law was married to 2 of my sisters.  Maybe Carrie will be able to supply the narrative to these years.