mail delivery

A surprise was lurking in the woodshed for many years. Resting patiently on a wooden beam, awaiting discovery, was a stack of letters dated 1918-1923. They fell into our hands at an opportune time; namely, the month we began the detective work on our old farmhouse.
"Jerry" is Jeremiah Lynch. Margaret is his wife. They were born in the 19th century. Michael is probably one of their sons. They had other children: a married daughter named Mary who lived and farmed in DeKalb (whose letters tell of the birth of her daughter, Mary Margaret), and at least two other sons: Daniel and John. These two bachelor brothers lived in this house until the mid-1960s.

We are gathering stories about them from these very personal documents and from deeds, wills, tax maps, and census rolls. Some of the stories come from neighborly "old-timers": the lady up the road, the man who delived wood, the town historian, and others. I will refrain from spilling any more beans at this time, as I don't want to steal my student's thunder. (that's two figures of speech in a row...) As mentioned in a previous post, #1 Son and #1 Daughter will be documenting all our findings and putting together an entertaining and informative presentation for family and friends. For example, #1 Daughter's assignment is to transcribe these brittle and stained letters to find clues about what farming life entailed in the early 1900s.
Next week, we meet with the woman who grew up in our house. Her parents purchased the farm from the Lynch's. Over the phone, she hinted broadly that she had an "inside scoop" on our home's hidden past. What an interesting (and memorable) evening is in store for us!

As I hover over the humming screen, my dear fam is settling into the mountains of the Dominican Republic, readying for eight days of intense construction. Tropical flora and fauna and mountain-fed waterfalls surround them. I miss them, and wish them God's protection and blessing.

May they eat pineapple for breakfast!