Posted on by Michelle Anderson

The Reunion That ALWAYS Meant More

This is one of my favorite photos of my brother and I. We stand together, as we were a unified front for all of my childhood. I don’t remember a time when it was just me. It’s always been Mark and Michelle, Michelle and Mark. And aren’t we cute? Here we are standing outside of Aunt Alice’s house, with I think Lynne Haren in the background. Barns to me have always been landmarks that I look for. They could tell me where I was or if I was close to my grandma’s house. Aunt Alice’s barns were a grouping that was familiar to me and seeing them we would know instantly that we were finally there.

Each summer, the Kramer family reunion has brought everyone back together. We all know that the last Sunday in June, there were plans. Plans to get together and celebrate being a family. I wasn’t alive yet when the first celebration took place, to celebrate Aunt Alice’s birthday. To me, it just always was. If we were near Cullom, Illinois, on the last Sunday in June, we were at the Kramer Reunion. For many years, we were not close as we were in Kansas or Ohio. But on those years that we could get there, it was a treat indeed.

This is a sight that I was also very familiar with. My dad and uncle grouped with their cousins, sharing the easy conversation that only comes with relatives who’ve known one another their whole lives. Leaning against a car that matches his shirt, we have Galen Haren, holding me is my uncle Wayne Miller, with cousin Bob Fager next to Wayne and my dad Raymond Miller. One the end is Bob’s brother Milton Fager holding a child I couldn’t tell who they were. The photos were developed in March of 1971, so that meant that these photos were taken in June of 1970. All of the men were sporting their Sunday summer best for this day.

Together, these photos remind me of the day we gathered to honor Aunt Alice and the Kramer siblings — a day when every branch of the family came together as one, celebrating the bonds that have always held the Kramer family close. And today, as those able to travel arrive in Cullom, Illinois to celebrate them once more, may those who cannot be there still feel connected to our Kramer kin and to all the times we stood together at this family celebration that has always felt deeper, richer, and more meaningful than an ordinary reunion.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Dolls and Dreams

Sometimes it’s hard to fall asleep, especially when you’re a child. You don’t just “fall” asleep. Sleep is a transition that can be fought. Going to sleep means stopping play with a toy, or, in my case, reading a book. It means turning off your energy and telling your body to rest. And sometimes being apart from the people you love is hard. Now, we have to be in a dark, quiet room, and sleep can feel too big. Sleep requires trust. Trust that the night will pass safely, that the morning will come, and that you won’t miss anything important. That’s why bedtime is often a dance of one more story, one more drink, one more question. It’s not defiance. It’s learning how to let go. And when a child finally drifts off to sleep, it’s a small triumph, a reminder to us that rest is something we all have to practice, no matter our age.

Here we have Joyce Jorden Miller and Lois Jorden all ready for bed. The bed looks comfy and cozy, just waiting for them. Many of us build rituals around going to sleep, and those rituals can begin in childhood. Brushing our teeth, picking a story to read, or a doll or animal that will “sleep” with us. Those toys become a part of the ritual, signaling that it’s time to wind down and go to sleep.

The room that we can see is simple. Just a bed and a small bedside table with a lamp on it. Simple. I love the wallpaper on the walls. And the simple draped curtains with a window shade. The room is not cluttered but holds the most important things of a bed and light.

In the end, this is a simple moment – two sisters, getting ready for the end of the day with their cherished doll companions. In a quiet room at the end of a busy day. Even now, our sleep can be a return to the feeling of being a child. Where you can once more feel at home and be comforted, secure in the certainty that tomorrow will arrive after our night of rest.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

The Quiet Strength of Men

Fathers have always carried the quiet weight of love — in the hands that hold their children, the stride that carries them through everyday life, and the steadfast stance beside us as we grow. Today, on Father’s Day, we pause to honor all the ways our dads, husbands, and grandfathers have shaped our lives — through patience, humor, and quiet courage. Their stories live on in our hearts, our traditions, and the photographs that keep their spirit close.

Thank you for reading and supporting my small family genealogy pages. Your presence helps keep these memories alive for those to come after us.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Julius’ Steady Hands

The photograph captures a quiet moment — Julius Anderson seated in his chair, holding his grandsons Phil and Dick close. The room is simple, the light soft, yet the atmosphere created in this photo reflects depth that was naturally found.

Julius’s hands, worn from years of work, cradle the babies with a gentleness that is supportive. His hands rest on his grandchildren in a way that makes them settle into him, trusting in his hold and his lap. The contrast between his work-worn hands and the lighter tones of the boy’s clothing emphasizes his strength while highlighting the softness and newness of the boy’s clothing. The tone is one of age meeting youth.

Date of photo estimated to be Summer of 1941

Phil, on the left, leans into his grandfather’s arm, content and curious; Dick, on the right, sits upright, eyes bright. Between them, Julius’s expression completes the photo. There’s no strain, no distraction. Just a quiet, almost contemplative calm. It’s as if he understands the privilege it is to hold your grandchildren in your arms. The feeling that you are holding the future in your hands.

The background is soft, with muted grays and just blends seamlessly into the photo. The desk or table behind him, scattered with papers, hints at the ordinary day this might have been. Yet in the stillness of the photo, time seems to pause — three lives, framed in a moment where time seems to pause just long enough for us to see the beauty of the connection.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Hand In Hand, Beside Their Dad

I love black and white photography. The different shades of gray have a way of connecting a photo and making subjects stand clear. Every expression, shadow, and gesture feels timeless and more visible. No elaborate background is necessary. Just a family posed outside in their Sunday best with nature and natural light around them.

Kermit is taking a protective stance behind his children. Steady. Grounded. There, if they should need him, but showing gentleness and pride too. From left to right, we have the Miller children, Wayne, Raymond, and Wava. I love the way that Wayne is holding Raymond’s hand by the fingertips. While he looks to be independent, he’s safe in knowing that his brother is ready to stand wherever Wayne would need him to be. Behind him, supporting him, or in front of him, protecting him. For me, it’s Raymond in the middle that becomes the visual and emotional center of the group. He shows that he’s already looked upon to be responsible and that he’s expected to look after his siblings when needed. His placement between his siblings connects them all to his father. Wava brings a softness and balance to the group. Her expression and stance add a gentle contrast to her brothers’ more formal posture. I believe that this photo was taken on the walk outside of Kermit and Eunice’s farm. Taken about 1950, give or take a year or two.

This photograph remains unchanged — a simple, steady reminder of a father and his children standing together on an ordinary day, hand in hand, a small piece of the Miller family story that is still speaking long after the shutter clicked.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Pop: Man on the Street

Whenever I see this photo of Pop, I think of the term “Man on the Street”. Which got me to thinking, what does that even mean, and where did it come from?

Man on the street generally refers to journalism. When a journalist asks an ordinary, average person they pass by for their opinion on news, politics, or their perspective. It’s used to represent public opinion or to reflect the perspective of everyday citizens. This form of journalism emerged in the early 1800’s in the United Kingdom, when newspapers began seeking the opinions of ordinary citizens as a shift away from non-elite viewpoints.

Photo courtesy of Ruth Jorden Higgins

Here we have our Pop, Frank J Burd, a mild-mannered citizen walking down the street. It could be a street anywhere in any city. Showing a snapshot of a certain date and time. But how did he come to get this photo?

From the age of the camera, street photography also came to be. Street portraits are taken by a photographer and then offered for sale to the subject. The photographers would either give you a receipt to get your photo at a later date or sell the images to newspapers or magazines. These photos were called “walking photos,” and the photographers would use a small portable camera to snap pictures of people walking by.

I feel the photographer got a part of Pop’s jauntiness and attitude. Just walking down the street, smoking my cigarette, going about my business. With my fedora, printed tie and newspaper, he’s a man about town. I’ve tried to find out where this photo might have been taken, but I haven’t had any luck identifying the background. So even though we don’t know where or when this photo was taken, I sure am glad Pop had it and now I get to share it with you.

He walked the morning – silver street,

Hands grasped paper, a quiet pace.

A shutter blinked – a soft, quick beat –

and caught the gaze from his face.

He didn’t pose or turn his head,

just kept moving, calm and slow.

But in that fram, the world instead

found something tender in his glow.

A moment, small, a life complete –

A story paused on passing feet.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Sister Blooms

I like to see people smiling. And Bess and Hazel seem to always be smiling in every photo I see them in. Bess, the older sister, was born on September 15, 1887. Hazel was born nearly 10 years later on May 12, 1897. Age couldn’t separate the bond they shared as sisters. Based on their hats and the photo’s sepia tone, it was taken between 1915 and 1920.

What could they have been doing? At first glance, because there’s no background, I think that this is definitely a studio photo. But then I look at the item in Bess’s hand. It’s possibly a hook or a screw of some sort, but why would she have it in a photo? And then I get to thinking, what were they laughing about?

Bess and Hazel were constant throughout each other’s lives until Bess’s death on January 12, 1954. Bess was 66 years old, making Hazel 55 at the time of Bess’s death. I like to think that Hazel missed her sister during the remaining years they were apart.

While I might not know the story of this photo, Bess and Hazel’s smiles tell the story of sisterhood. Bess and Hazel embody the grace and laughter of an era when hats were statements and family ties were stitched with devotion. This photo isn’t just a portrait; it’s a window into the warmth and wit that shaped the Andersons to come.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Maye’s Garden of Life

Sometimes are garden grows quietly. You look up and suddenly those little seedlings have blossomed into plants. That is the case here. The garden started with Kermit’s sister Lydia Maye Miller. Maye married Lloyd Motter and they had two girls, June and Lois. Lois married Gordon Grohs and they had two children Tom and Nancy. Not much is known about the Grohs except I believe they are still alive. I’ve found records of both Lois and Gordon still together in Sun Lakes, Arizona just south of Chandler and outside of Phoenix. Lois and Gordon had two children, Tom and Nancy. Unfortunately, I have found out little about the Grohs. But that doesn’t mean I will stop looking.

I just love this photo of them. It’s what I call a stair-step photo. Many times they may occur oldest to youngest, but in this case it’s height with Lois and Maye needing to switch places. But from left to right we have Nancy, Tom, Lois, Maye, Lloyd and Gordon. This photo was taken outside Kermit and Eunice’s home. There’s no date on the photo but a former photo of Eunice’s dated 1960 indicated that Nancy and Tom would be visiting the next summer so we might be looking at a photo taken in 1961.

Both Nancy and Tom are wearing Miller farm appropriate clothes. While Nancy is in a dress I’m sure it didn’t slow her down from finding lots of things to explore. Lois is wearing adorable plaid shorts. I just love plaid. Then we come to Maye. I’ve never seen a photo of her as an adult where she’s not in a dress or skirt. She looks comfortable in her print dress. Lloyd looks formal. Perhaps it was a Sunday and they had gone to church earler or if it was a work day he just came from the office. Gordon looks like he’s on vacation and enjoying the day.

While I know little about Gordon, Lois and their children, I find myself wanting to keep a close watch on them to see what information I can find and what they may do next.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Tableaux Times

Tableaux were all the rage at the turn of the century. They were called Tableaux vivants, or living pictures, in which staged scenes were performed to recreate motionless works of art. They were common in pageants, women’s colleges, and civic festivals from the 1900s through the 1920s. Many tableaux were often Grecian-themed and used a draped style for the dancers’ costumes. This symbolized purity, beauty, and artistic freedom. Outdoor scenes like the one below were chosen to evoke pastoral ideals and connect performers to the natural world.

Here we have a photo from Cousin Jean Bourscheidt’s photo album. A group of women who gathered at Sunnyside, the Gauss’ farm. Standing we have Lucy B Way, Edith P Stone, Julia Proctor White, Elizabeth Way, Florence Raymond. Kneeling is an unknown woman, Mrs Gauss, and our cousin Jean Bourscheidt.

I gather that Julia Proctor White is the leader, as her dress is a different color than the others and she is prominently featured in several of the photos. So I did some research on who Julia Proctor White is. She was born in 1875 and lived until 1968. She was a civic and cultural leader in Peoria whose work influenced Peoria’s arts and women’s movements. She began her professional career as a kindergarten teacher and became vice president of the Peoria Free Kindergarten Association. She helped establish public kindergartens in Peoria in 1907. I am sure that is where her path crossed with cousin Jean.

Julia also had many civic and cultural contributions in addition to her work to establish kindergartens in schools. She worked with the Florence Crittenton Home, supporting women and children in need. She helped found the Peoria Women’s Civic Federation and in 1955 wrote its 50-year history manuscript. She was the first president of the League of Women Voters following the passing of the 19th Amendment. Prior to this, she had been a member of the Equal Suffrage Association. She also served as Director of the Peoria Players Theater and was an advocate for community performances.

Cousin Jean didn’t add any words that included what she thought of these photos or how it had all come together. But I hope she enjoyed her time with this dance group and has many fond memories of a time when Tableaux vivants were all the rage, and this form of dance was new and exciting.

I think Cousin Jean is the 2nd individual on the left

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

The Beauty We Inherit: Stories of Art, Family, and Sisterhood

Today is all about women and three males, but mainly women. From the living history photos of the graceful women who danced beneath open skies in Peoria, Illinois, on the Jorden and Burd page, to a Mother and Daughter duo in The Miller Garden, and finally a set of sisters whose laughter shaped generations to come on the All Are Andersons page. These photos remind us that beauty, strength and connection are timeless. Together, they weave a portrait of heritage that still blooms today! Thank you for reading and supporting my small family genealogy pages.