Out of all of my family history artifacts, the few audio recordings that I have are among my most cherished.  My paternal grandfather had an early tape recorder that he carted around to family events in the 1960s.  He’d pull out the microphone and create a little variety show, asking various family members to “come up” and say a few words–or even sing a song.  So our family now has these wonderful recordings featuring various family members, long gone, singing old Irish ballads.  In the world of genealogy and family history, this is pure gold.

Because of how precious these audio memories are to me, I think a lot about how important it is to capture and preserve snippets of audio from my own time and place.  It may seem like nothing special right now, to record a conversation with a family member, but I’m convinced that even the most mundane things that we capture will be treasured by our children and their descendants.

I had a great-aunt who died this past Fall, the last surviving sibling from my grandpa’s family of twelve kids.  I was lucky enough to have been able to visit her back in 2007.  She lived in California and I’m living in Minnesota, but I took a special trip to just go out and visit with her.  And because I’d traveled so far, I made sure to spend a number of days with her.

The best part about visiting Aunt Alice was that I didn’t go empty-handed.  I brought all of my family notes and was ready with a number of questions that I wanted to ask her.  But the best thing that I brought with me was a little digital recorder.  (Something like this).  This little device was incredible.  I left it turned on for the entire 4 days that I spent with Alice and I collected many, many hours of wonderful stories.  The best part is that everything was recorded digitally–so all of the content is already transfered to my PC and (of course) automatically being backed up.  I can go back through the audio content and pull out interesting bits of family history data at my leisure.  The important thing is that I spoke with Alice before she was gone and, even more precious, I captured many hours of her talking about her life.

We should all make an effort to do this with older relatives.  We know that we need to start with the oldest generation first, when looking for information about the family.  So we go out and interview them to check our facts, or glean new information.  But we should also be recording all of these conversations, just to capture these relatives’ stories in their own voices.

Stories are powerful.  But they are so much more powerful when recorded as audio.  If you haven’t already heard of them, take a look at StoryCorps.  They are a non-profit who has been traveling around, letting people tell their personal stories in their own words, recording everything and then preserving it at the Library of Congress.  The stories are wonderful: moving, heart-warming, sad, tragic and exuberant.  Basically a reflection of life itself.

Capturing someone’s voice in an audio format is also very different from capturing video.  It’s much more than just some subset of a video recording, but something much richer.  When recording audio, people tend to sit closer to the microphone and just talk–so they aren’t moving around or doing something else and you get their full attention.  Listening to an audio recording is different, too.  Somehow, when there’s nothing to look at and you just listen to the person’s voice, their stories and history enter your psyche and affect you in a way that video never does.

The Lucy Show

After hearing about the StoryCorps and after collecting such wonderful stories from my Aunt Alice, I’m more motivated than ever to really make an effort to capture stories from other family members.  I do intend to do this.  It just takes a little bit of time and energy.

But I have a slight more immediate goal.  I very much want to preserve my kids’ voices.  My daughter is 4 years old and the most loquacious member of the family by far.  My son is only 13 months old, so for the moment he’s limited to saying “uh-oh” after he throws his bottle on the floor.

I really treasure the conversations that I have with my daughter Lucy.  We have an incredibly long commute and we spend much of it just talking about everything under the sun.  It’s absolutely a no-brainer for me to try to capture some of this in an audio format.  I know that whatever I record and preserve today will one day be a real treasure to her and to her kids.

In the past, I’ve recorded Lucy once in a while, when it occurred to me.  I used the same little digital voice recorder that I bought for my trip to California, and just had a little conversation with Lucy.  But I always seem to forget about it.  Somehow, reaching for the voice recorder isn’t as obvious as reaching for the digital camera or the camcorder.

So I decided about a year ago to do something different to capture Lucy in an audio format.  Instead of just recording her, I decided to create an audio podcast that featured some of our conversations.  I’m an iPod addict and a huge fan of podcasts, so it seemed an obvious choice.

Capturing audio as a podcast has a couple of benefits.  For starters, we’d actually have an audience.  If we recorded a regular chat and then published our recording as a podcast, family members could just subscribe to that podcast using a “podcatcher” like iTunes.  As soon as I published a new “episode”, they would just get it the next time that they synched their iPod.  Also, because most people listen to podcasts on portable devices like iPods, they could bring our audio chats with them wherever they went, as opposed to having to go to a web site to find the recordings.

The other benefit of having an audience is that there’s a tiny bit more pressure to keep up the habit of recording Lucy regularly.  Once grandma has gotten a couple podcasts automatically transfered to her iPod, she’ll be bugging me for the next one.  And being gently bugged is a good thing, because it will just remind me how important these recordings are.

Finally, you can think of podcasts as a way of ensuring that your recordings won’t get lost.  To publish the podcast, you’ll end up uploading the recording to a server somewhere.  We do this so that people can then download the podcast using a tool like iTunes.  But it has the happy side benefit of forcing you to have a copy stored somewhere other than just on your PC.  Secondly, because other people will be downloading your recording, they all have their own copies.  One of the best ways to ensure that your family information is preserved is to disseminate it as broadly as possible.

The Lucy Show

So this past weekend, I finally got around to publishing the first two episodes of The Lucy Show.  If you go to this web site, you can listen to the two episodes right in your web browser.  But if you know just a little bit about iTunes, you can also click on the Subscribe link and paste the resulting “feed” into iTunes, becoming a regular subscriber of “The Lucy Show”.

I’m very happy about what we put together.  I was also very surprised at how easy this was.  I spent just a little time finding some “theme music” and learning how to do a little bit of editing to create the podcast.  But this was all easy enough that I’d recommend it to anyone who is thinking about a unique way to preserve recordings of their family members.  Most of all, I’m excited to make this a regular habit so that these recordings just become something that Lucy has when she’s older.

I’ll share more details, in a future post, of how I actually created and published these podcasts.  Maybe once you see how easy it is, you’ll be inspired to create your own podcasts and capture a little bit of family history.

P.S.  Let me know what you think of the theme music that opens and closes The Lucy Show.  It’s Lucy’s favorite part.


Here’s a modest proposal for Ancestry.com on a little trick that they could use to get new subscribers.  (With all apologies to Johnathan Swift and only a slightly intentional reference to eating your young).

I recently got a short e-mail from a cousin who was interested in starting to do some research into one of her ancestral lines.  (Her father’s line, which I know nothing about, since I’m related to her mother).

I immediately volunteered to do some looking around on ancestry.com to see what I could find.  Of course I’m very conscious of not wanting to cheat ancestry.com out of a potential future customer.  So I wouldn’t plan on making a habit of doing free searches for friends.  But my thinking is that I can find a few snippets for my cousin and then, if she becomes excited enough about what’s out there, she may become a paid subscriber.

But I wondered how ancestry.com thinks about approaching people like my cousin and winning them over as a paying customer.  To start with, a potential customer has to find out about the product.  That’s what all of the advertising is geared towards.  But my cousin wasn’t approaching this because she knew anything about ancestry.com.  She just came to the family member who knew something about researching records online and asked me.  So ancestry.com should be thinking about prospects that they pick up through word-of-mouth, rather than through normal advertising channels.

Once a potential customer knows about ancestry.com as a possible place to go look for information on their ancestors, they should definitely have a chance to try out the service before making any commitments.

I know that ancestry.com offers a free 14-day trial for potential customers.  And my cousin could sign up that way.  But I have a couple of problems with the typical trial membership.

For starters, my cousin would have to enter credit card information, in order to get her 14-day trial membership.  That’s just big enough of a barrier to entry to block quite a few people who might otherwise be interested in quickly exploring what ancestry.com has to offer.  It’s just too much trouble.

Secondly, I’m fairly certain that the trial membership auto-converts into a full membership if you don’t explicitly cancel it.  Ok, right there, I know I won’t recommend it to my cousin.  That sort of marketing technique just smacks too much of typical bait-and-switch schemes.  Granted, canceling is probably pretty easy.  But still, it’s something that the prospect has to remember to do, which means that there is risk involved—risk that they end up paying for a membership that they don’t want.

The whole mission behind the idea of try-before-you-buy is to make the barrier to entry so low that lots of people can try your product, and do so in the easiest manner possible.  You also want to make sure to give them a complete/full product experience, i.e. they should have access to everything that paying members do.

The Proposal

So here’s my thought on this.  How about we make it easier for potential new customers to try out ancestry.com through a referral system?  Here’s how it would work:

  • I decide to refer my cousin, so I click a button in my account and get a new trial account auto-generated, after entering my cousin’s e-mail address
  • Ancestry e-mails the login info to my cousin, who logs in
  • No credit card information is required
  • This subscription does not auto-convert into a payed subscription
  • My cousin automatically has access to my family tree, as well as all databases that I pay for
  • The account/subscription lasts only for 14-days (or for 5 sessions, or whatever)
  • At the end of the trial period
    • My cousin’s account automatically is locked out
    • She automatically gets an e-mail giving her a chance to subscribe “for real”
  • If my cousin does sign up at the end of the trial period
    • She gets a slight discount
    • I get a small kickback, in the form of a discount for next year’s renewal

The bottom line?  A simple piggyback trial subscription mechanism that would make it very easy to refer other family members and grow the ancestry.com community.

How about it, ancestry.com ?

I like Randy Seaver’s idea of occasionally posting a photo from his personal collection, so I’m going to start doing that as well.  Here’s one of my favorites.

This is a photo that a family member got from the Minnesota Historical Society, entitled “A lively crowd of old time lumberjacks at Gus Sexton’s camp”.  My great-grandpa Bill Sexton (1870-1960) appears in this photo, along with three of his brothers (he came from a family of fourteen).  Please take the time to load the higher-resolution version of this photo, so that you can enjoy the details.  The photo is dated in the collection as 1903, but I suspect that it may have been taken earlier, given the age of family members here–maybe in the mid-1890s.

Gus Sexton's Lumber Camp

A lively crowd of old time lumberjacks at Gus Sexton’s camp. (click for high-res or medium-res versions).

The basic story is as follows.  Great-grandpa Bill was born in 1870 in a little village in Quebec, on the Gaspe Peninsula.  The town was Maria, also known as “Irishtown” because of the large number of Irish immigrants.  Making a living in Maria was tough and Bill’s oldest brother Gus eventually moved away to look elsewhere for work.  Gus landed in Minnesota in the early 1870s and found work as a lumberjack.  He did quite well, eventually running his own lumber camp.

Several of Gus’ family members eventually followed him to Minnesota, including my great-grandpa Bill, who worked as a lumberjack in his brother Gus’ lumber camp.

My great-grandpa Bill is towards the center of the photo, standing next to two of his brothers.  Here’s Bill:

Bill Sexton

To Bill’s immediate left are his older brothers Jim (sparring with the cook) and Gus:

Jim and Gus Sexton

And towards the left of the photo, we find Bill’s brother Chris (Chrystostome) Sexton:

Chris Sexton

What I love most about this photo of the lumber camp is just looking at the higher resolution version and spending some time looking at some of the details.  The first things that jumped out for me were:

  • The diameter of the logs used to build the camp building.  Old-growth White Pine in MN could be as large as 40″ in diameter
  • How everyone is goofing around, with their fists raised.  (One guy even brandishes his hammer at a neighbor).  What did the photographer say, just before taking the photo?  I imagine something like “All right everybody, pretend like you’re going to fight with the guy next to you”.
  • The clothing.  Lumberjacks wore “Mackinaw” pants and shirts.  After the Great Hinckley Fire of 1894, members of this same lumber camp, when reporting their personal losses, only applied for replacement Mackinaw outfits.
  • It’s Winter.  Lumber camps like this operated during the Winter months, because the logs were hauled out on horse-drawn sledges or rollers
  • No women.  My great-aunt Alice (Bill’s daughter) talked about how all these guys would go out and live in the lumber camps for months on end, only coming back to visit family and women friends when the season ended.
  • The tools.  I see what I think is a long two-man saw, leaning up against the building.  The two men in the front have what looks like a tong that might be some sort of a log lifter, as well as a couple of rope loops that may have been used for climbing
  • Men who aren’t smiling.  Despite the clowning going around, some men are merely posing, but a couple look like they are the types who never smile.  Tough characters.

These are the kind of photos that I really love having in my collection.  They show relatives or ancestors, but also give a great glimpse into some aspect of the times that our family members lived in.  Just staring at this picture makes me want to invest some time in learning more about lumbering in Minnesota and Wisconsin in the late 1800s.  I’d love to learn more about the time period and how these men lived.  And having a direct ancestor as part of this history just makes it come to life for me.

99 Things Meme

These memes are a little addicting.  In this case, no one tagged me.  I just liked this meme, so I wrote it up for myself.  (And I’m lazy, not tagging anyone else).  So if the mood strikes and you blog, go ahead and pass this one on.  And then post a comment here, linking to your own list.

The 99 Things Meme

Things you’ve already done: bold
Things you want to do: italicize
Things you haven’t done and don’t want to – leave in plain font

1. Started your own blog.
2. Slept under the stars.
3. Played in a band.
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity.
7. Been to Disneyland/world.
8. Climbed a mountain.
9. Held a praying mantis.
10. Sang a solo.
11. Bungee jumped.
12. Visited Paris.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch.
15. Adopted a child.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
18. Grown your own vegetables.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France.
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight.
22. Hitch hiked.
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort.
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Run a marathon.
28. Ridden a gondola in Venice.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.
31. Hit a home run.
32. Been on a cruise.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors.
35. Seen an Amish community.
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person.
39. Gone rock climbing.
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David in person.
41. Sung Karaoke.
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant.
44. Visited Africa.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance.
47. Had your portrait painted.
48. Gone deep sea fishing.
49. Seen the Sistine chapel in person.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkelling.
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud.
54. Gone to a drive-in theatre.
55. Been in a movie.
56. Visited the Great Wall of China.
57. Started a business.
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia.
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout cookies.
62. Gone whale watching.
63. Gotten flowers for no reason.
64. Donated blood.
65. Gone sky diving.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter.
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy.
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial.
71. Eaten Caviar.
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Times Square.
74. Toured the Everglades.
75. Been fired from a job.
76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London.
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.
80. Published a book.
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper.
85. Read the entire Bible.
86. Visited the White House.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
88. Had chickenpox.
89. Saved someone’s life.
90. Sat on a jury.
91. Met someone famous.
92. Joined a book club.
93. Lost a loved one.
94. Had a baby.
95. Seen the Alamo in person.
96. Swum in the Great Salt Lake.
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.

Already done – 49
Want to do – 27
Haven’t done, no interest – 23

Short Form or Long Form?

This will be another unusual post for me—merely a ramble of sorts.  I generally think quite a bit, prior to writing a new blog entry and I try to create something of real value.  This generally means that I write pretty long posts.  It also means that I spend a huge amount of time either researching/preparing the content for the post, or in just writing it and then later editing it.

But as I read other blogs, I notice how many bloggers write regular, or even daily, posts.  As a reader of those blogs, there is something very comforting about hearing from a blogger at regular intervals.  And it doesn’t bother me that many of the posts are things that I’ll quickly skip over.  Eventually they write something that catches my attention in a deeper way and I read that particular post more attentively.

So it’s not true that a blog post has to be 2,000 words long to be of value, or has to be the product of some project that has taken a number of weeks to complete.  I would still like to work on those project and write those posts.  But I think I’ll also try to mix it up with shorter posts that are merely  miscellaneous thoughts and ramblings.  I might even manage to talk myself out of editing and rewriting these shorter posts.

In the end, I guess I have several goals when it comes to blogging.  One is to provide some information, or tools, that are of lasting value to family historians and genealogists.  But also important is my goal to just have a conversation with the genealogical community.  I know that I really appreciate seeing regular posts written by my favorite bloggers.  It makes me feel like I have an ongoing connection with them, whether or not I read every post.  And I’d like to be on the other side of that equation occasionally.  It also matches my real-life personality.  I like to talk.

One final comment before this post becomes an example of irony, as it gets longer and longer.  There is great value in both the long form—huge 2,000 word articles that teach—and the short form—several paragraph posts that lay out a quick set of thoughts.  But there is even value in the shortest form imaginable.  I’m a huge fan of Twitter (www.twitter.com/spsexton) and if you follow me on Twitter, you’ll see that I “publish” many tiny little thoughts throughout the day.  Twitter enforces a message length of something like 140 characters and I find it quite easy to present a little thought in even so few characters.

So if I have any sort of New Year’s resolution at all (I normally make my resolutions in April, on my birthday), it would be this—to embrace not only the super-short form of Twitter and the super-long form of well-planned blog posts, but to also write some shorter blog posts over the next year.  I look forward to the ongoing conversation on the blog.  And I hope that I’ll also see some of you on Twitter.

This post is a bit of a cheat.  I’m re-publishing a short travelogue that I wrote in 1998, describing a weekend visit to the province of Zeeland, in the Netherlands.  I was living in Belgium at the time, so it was a short drive up to Zeeland, where I did a little sightseeing and also visited Eede, the town that my great-grandmother Nathalie Verstraete (b 1864) was from.  Amazingly, I actually got to talk to a living Verstraete in Eede, who was most likely a distant cousin.

Original Post Follows Below.  Originally published on the web in Spring of 1998.


A few weeks ago, I spent a weekend driving around Zeeland, one of The Netherlands’ 12 provinces. Zeeland is in the Southwest corner of Holland, and consists of several large islands or peninsulas, separated by long tidal inlets.  “Zee” means “sea” in Dutch and it was easy to see how it got its name.  This part of Holland is unbelievably flat, and mostly below sea level.  The history of this part of Holland is basically a saga of the residents’ continuous battle against the sea.  I read somewhere that in the past 100 years, the Dutch have lost more land to the sea than they’ve reclaimed.

The last great flood, and the greatest flooding disaster in Holland’s history, was in February of 1953, when the dikes broke in a number of different places, flooding 70% of the total land area of Zeeland.  The flooding happened quickly and during the middle of the night and 1,835 people were drowned, 72,000 left homeless.

The Dutch quickly recovered from the flooding, repairing the dikes and pumping the water out.  They decided to shorten their coastline by damming off several of the tidal inlets and to enlarge and reinforce many of the existing dikes on the coast.  This was dubbed “The Delta Project” and was finally finished in 1986 with the building of the last dam, the Oosterschelde storm surge barrier.

Dutch Ancestors

One of my reasons for visiting Holland was to see if I could find the birthplace of Nathalie Verstraete, my great-grandmother.  I had only a little bit of information about where she came from, but I thought that it would be easy enough to find the town.

The information that I had came from a tape of Marie Sexton, nee Wolters (my grandmother).  She’d talked on the tape about her parents, who were both born in Holland.  According to what grandma said on the tape, her mother, Nathalie Verstraete, was born in 1864 in a town called “Aidan”, right on the Belgian border.  She had two brothers, Jacob and Peter, both of whom emigrated to America.  Jacob ended up in St. Paul, where he worked and eventually sent for Nathalie, who probably came over somewhere between 1885-1895.  According to the tape, she’d been working as a governess for a couple with two children.

No one had been able to find the town of Aidan on any map but, after doing some searching on the Internet, my dad got a note from someone that said that we must mean “Eeden”, which was in Zeeland, about 10 km south of a town called Oostburg.  I couldn’t find either Aidan or Eeden on the map that I had, but I decided to see if I could go find it.

Looking for Eeden

I’m living right now in Leuven, which is a smaller city not too far from Brussels. I didn’t really have any idea how long it would take me to drive up to Holland but it ended up being only about an hour to Antwerp, near the Dutch border, and then another hour headed west along the border, before I turned north to cross over into Zeeland.

It had been raining steadily all morning (all week actually), but it started to clear up just a little bit as I left Antwerp, heading west.  Someone had told me that I had no chance of sunshine in Holland—they said that it rained twice as much in Holland as Belgium and the forecast for Brussels was for non-stop rain all weekend.  But by the time I turned North, onto a smaller highway heading for Holland, the clouds had scattered and the sun came out in full force right about the time that I got to the Belgian/Dutch border.

I crossed over a couple of small canals and I started looking for some sign that said that I was near the border.  There didn’t seem to be anything marking the border, just more of the same small green farms on either side of the highway.  As I looked around, wondering if I was in Holland yet, I came into a little town that was marked with a small sign labeled “Eede”.  I hadn’t really been looking for Eeden yet, so the sign caught me by surprise.  I’d been thinking that I’d drive up to Oostburg, and then work my way backwards, looking for the town.

I realized that this had to be the place, so I pulled over to check my map.  This time I found Eede on the map, almost obscured by the dark line that marked the border.  After hunting for the legend on the map for a little while, I managed to measure the distance and discovered that I was exactly 10 km south of Oostburg.  Even missing the “n” in “Eeden”, I figured that this had to be the place.

Quiet Little Town

Once I realized that this was the place I’d been looking for, I took a minute to glance around.  There wasn’t much to the town, most of which was off to the left of the highway, where I could see a bunch of red-tiled roofs clustered around a single church steeple poking up through them.  It seemed a bit like a Dutch version of Lake Wobegon—pretty sleepy.  It was Saturday morning, about 11:30, but there were only a few cars to be seen and absolutely no people moving around anywhere.

I drove around a bit, exploring the town, before ending up at the church.  Everything still seemed pretty quiet, and the church was locked when I walked up to try the door.  One thing that I noticed immediately about Eede, comparing it with the Belgian towns that I’d been in, was how clean everything was.  The towns in Belgium all seem to be grey and dirty and a little tattered around the edges.  But in Eede, everything seemed meticulously cared for, which made the town seem almost brand new.  Most houses had little gardens in front of them and even though nothing was blooming yet, the bare hedges were perfectly trimmed and the gardens looked as spotless as the brick homes.

Looking For Verstraetes

I decided to find somewhere that I could have a little lunch and possibly talk to someone about the town.  I eventually found my way back to the main road and went into what looked like the only restaurant in town—a spotless, subdued place, full of plants and seeming brand new.  There was a bar running along one end of the dining area, and several older guys sitting at a table near the bar, talking to each other and to the guy behind the bar, who seemed to be the owner.  I grabbed a table near the front window and ordered a sandwich.

As I ate, I watched the town through the front window of the restaurant.  It was still pretty quiet outside, with only the occasional car rushing by on the highway out front, none of them stopping.  The guys up front were talking quietly with the guy behind the bar and the place felt like some tourist town in Northern Minnesota in April, waiting for the summer holiday to start.

The guy behind the bar eventually came to clear the table for me and I ordered a coffee.  As he started to turn away, I told him that I had a couple of questions about Eede.  I’ve stopped prefacing every conversation with the question, “Do you speak English?”, because I have yet to meet someone who says no.  Most often, the answer turns out to be “of course”.  I explained that my great-grandmother had been born in this town and that I was looking for someone who could tell me a little bit about Eede.  I told him that her name was Nathalie Verstraete, and I asked if there was anyone named Verstraete still living in Eede.

He seemed pretty impressed that I’d come all the way from America, looking for relatives in Eede, and said that there weren’t exactly a lot of Verstraetes in Eede, but that there were a few.  Then he told me to wait a few minutes and he’d go call a friend of his that could possibly answer some of my questions for me.

Willem and Miriam Verstraete

I sat sipping my coffee for a few minutes, enjoying the sun that was now beginning to shine directly into the window.  The owner came back a few minutes later to tell me that he’d contacted his friend, who was a Verstraete, and that he might be able to come talk to me.  He explained that the man he’d telephoned didn’t speak English, but was calling his daughter, who spoke English, to see if she was able to come to the restaurant with him.

After another ten minutes, he came back again, smiling a little, to say, “Ok. They are going to come now to meet you..”  I went back to my coffee, and eventually a woman and older man came walking up to the front door of the restaurant.  They came in and I got up to greet them.  The woman, who seemed to be in her mid-30’s, introduced herself as Miriam Verstraete, and the man was her father, Willem.  I invited them to join me and they ordered some coffee and sat down at my table.

After I introduced myself as Sean Sexton, they listened patiently while I explained why I was looking for Verstraetes.  I ended up pulling out a notebook and drawing a quick family tree, to show them how our family was connected to Nathalie Verstraete.  By her name I penciled in “born in Eede – 1864” and Willem nodded, smiling, as Miriam explained in Dutch that it was my father’s grandmother who had come from Eede.


Miriam told me that her father had been born and raised in Eede and that she had also grown up here. She said that she was married, had a couple of kids, and lived in the town of Aardenburg, just a few kilometres north of Eede.  Willem still lived in Eede, and Miriam said that her mother had just died a few years ago.  She said that many of the younger people had moved to larger towns over the past few years and that Eede was becoming “quite grey”.

I asked them if they knew anything about the Verstraetes that would have been living in Eede 100 years ago.  Miriam translated for Willem—he said that he thought there had been a couple different groups of Verstraetes living in Eede back then, but he didn’t know if Nathalie would have been from his side of the family or not.  He said that it made sense that Nathalie and her brothers might have left Eede in the 1880s or 1890s, since a number of people had left the area around that time to go to America.

Miriam also told me that they’d recently met a couple from Texas who were cousins and whose family had also originally come from Eede.  She said that she had a large family tree that someone in America had put together, showing her side of the family, and that she’d send a copy to me.  Willem said that maybe the Verstraetes in Eede didn’t know anything about our side of the family because we had all moved away.

Eede History

I asked a lot of questions about Eede, and Willem explained some of the town’s history.  Eede currently has a population of about 600 and he said that it was roughly the same size 100 years ago. When I asked if most of the inhabitants had been farmers, he said that some were, but many people who lived in Eede during the last century were involved in making cloth—probably linen.

Willem also told me that during the 2nd World War, the Germans had occupied the entire town during most of the war.  He said that the Allies began bombing the whole area late in the war and that Eede had been completely destroyed as a result of the bombing raids.  Since there wasn’t a single building left standing in Eede, he explained, the residents had all moved north to Oostburg until the war was over.

They also told me that the allies had fought the Germans not too far from Eede towards the end of the war.  Miriam said that it had been mostly Canadians fighting near Eede, and that there was a large cemetery for them not too far away.  She said that the town had been completely rebuilt after the war.

I asked about the flood in 1953, and whether Eede had been affected, but they said that Eede was far enough away from the sea that it hadn’t been flooded at all.


At some point I remembered that I wanted to ask them about “teat”.  I said that our family made a particular kind of food that we thought was Dutch and that I was curious if they knew what it was.  I explained that we call it “teat”, but they shook their heads, not recognizing the name.  But as I started describing how it’s made, they both starting nodding, recognizing immediately what I was describing.  They said that they call it “Hoofdvlak”, or “Oofvlakke” in the local dialect.

Willem said that Oofvlakke was generally made only once a year, in the late Fall, when the pigs were slaughtered.  He said that it was made from the pigs’ heads, which were boiled to get all the meat off of them, before grinding up the meat.  He didn’t recall anyone adding flour to the meat, but he thought it was quite possible that some people made it that way.

Everything else about how Oofvlakke was made seemed to match “teat” exactly.  He confirmed that the result was a disgusting color of grey and that you poured it into pie tins until it solidified.  The only difference seemed to be that we fry it before we eat it, while Willem said that they just slice it, putting the slices on bread and eating it that way.  Miriam told me that she thought Oofvlakke was disgusting, but that her father loved it.

I smiled and admitted that there was a group of us in Minnesota who also loved it. I explained that we get together a couple of times a year to make it and that many of the cousins really looked forward to the chance to have some.

The Language and the Name

We also talked a little bit about the language spoken in Eede.  Miriam told me that they spoke a special dialect that was quite different from “High Dutch” and that it was actually a little bit closer to German than to Dutch. From what I’ve heard, there are quite a few dialects throughout Holland and they aren’t necessarily always that close to High Dutch.

While we were talking about the language, Miriam mentioned that she’d once looked up the origins of the name “Verstraete”.  She said that the literal meaning is “from the stone street”, since “straete” is a variation on “straat”, which means street.  “Straete” referred to a type of street that was paved with stone, which signified that it was in a part of town where the rich people lived.  The bottom line seems to be that “Verstraete” refers to someone that came from the rich part of town, where the streets were paved.

Moving On

We all talked for about an hour before it was time for Miriam to head home and for me to hit the road again.  We exchanged phone numbers and Miriam said that she’d send me a copy of some of the family tree information that she had.  I thanked them again for coming to the restaurant to meet me and told them that several other cousins who were descended from Nathalie Verstraete might be traveling to Eede in the next month or two.  Miriam said that she and her father would love to meet them and that maybe they could arrange to meet for lunch.

I really enjoyed my quick visit to Eede, and meeting Miriam and Willem.  Eede is a beautiful little town and has a special sort of charm, apart from it being the home town of one of my ancestors.  It was also fun to meet a couple potential cousins, though in the end it didn’t seem to matter that much whether there was a direct connection between us or not.

Eight Random Things About Me

I’ve been tagged by Randy Seaver of the Genea-Musings blog, asking me to carry on a meme where I share some facts about myself.  Here are the rules:

  1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
  2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
  3. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their name.
  4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and to read your blog.

Ok, this seems a pretty simple post to write—no research required, since it’s about me, and no software to write!  I’m going to present my list using a series of photos.

#1 – I Lived in Belgium for 6 Months


I’ve always had a passion for travel and have been lucky enough to have jobs that allowed me to do a lot of travel, both domestic and international.  In 1998, I worked in Leuven, Belgium for 6 months.  It was a phenomenal experience and I fell in love with the city and the Belgian beer.  I also took advantage of my time in Europe and traveled throughout Europe as much as I could.

#2 – I Always Read Three Books at a Time


This one probably smacks just a little bit of OCD.  It’s a long story of how this odd habit came about and why I’m a little bit anal about it.  But the basic concept is that I’m always reading three different books at any given time.  Here are the three that I’m currently reading.

#3 – I Designed and Built My Own Garden Shed


Here’s a not-so-little garden shed that I designed and built over the course of a little over a year.  It’s modeled after an old chicken coop with clerestory windows.  After four years, it’s even started to smell like a farm shed (a mixture of wood, grass clippings and gasoline).

#4 – I Once Hitched a Ride in the Back of an Irish Milk Truck


Okay, I didn’t get a picture of the milk truck that I rode in, so this photo will have to do.  It was 1987 and I was backpacking around Europe for the summer.  I was hiking around out on the West coast of Ireland (Connemara) when a national bus strike went into effect.  I hadn’t intended on hitchhiking while in Ireland, but that was the only alternative.  Luckily, the first guy that came along was a milk truck driver who was more than happy to let me ride with him.  The only drawbacks were a) I had to sit in the back, on the metal floor and b) it took hours to work our way back to the city because of all the stops that he had to make.  It made for a wonderful travel memory, however.

#5 – I Live in the Country


I live in an “exurb” of the Twin Cities, out in farm country.  Here’s the view from my front porch.  This is part of the reason that I actually enjoy mowing my lawn—I have such a great view.

#6 – I’m a Juggler


Here’s a talent that I picked up in college in the 1980s while trying to avoid Physics and Calculus lectures.  I can juggle 5 balls (briefly), 3 clubs, and I can “pass” clubs with other jugglers.  This photo shows me proving to some friends that you really can juggle a flaming tennis ball without burning yourself.  It does require a little fortitude, however.  A couple of beers doesn’t hurt, either.

#7 – I Go on a Yearly Personal Retreat


This one is a little hard to explain in a short space, but I go on a yearly trip to the North Shore of Lake Superior, where I rent a cabin for 3-4 days.  I spend my time reflecting, planning, and writing.  I’ve done this now for the past 14 years and I intend to keep up the habit for many years to come.  The cabin that I stay in is right on the shore, so the setting couldn’t be more beautiful.

#8 – I’ve Climbed Mt. Fuji


They say (the Japanese) that a wise man climbs Mt. Fuji once in his life, but only a fool climbs it twice.  I spent a few days in Japan at the tail end of a business trip a number of years ago and Mt. Fuji was at the top of my list for things to see.  I was also eager, of course, to prove myself a wise man, so I decided to do the climb to the top.  It was one of the most physically demanding things that I’ve done, but well worth the effort.  I climbed up alone, but met some fellow travelers at the top and made the descent with them.  Halfway down, we heard someone yelling for help a hundred yards or so off the trail and we ended up “rescuing” a woman who had ventured off the trail and then slipped and twisted her ankle.  Maybe she was on her second climb.  :O)

Passing It On

Thanks again Randy for the tag and the chance to share some miscellaneous ramblings.  Here are eight bloggers whose posts I enjoy reading and that I in turn tag with the Eight Random Things About Me meme:

Lisa Louise Cooke of the Genealogy Gems blog & podcast
Dear Myrtle of the Dear Myrtle blog & podcast
Tim Agazio of the Genealogy Reviews Online blog
Lorine of the Olive Tree Genealogy blog
The Footnote Maven of the Shades of the Departed blog
George Geder of the Genealogy-Photography-Restoration blog
Teri of the Old Photos and Genealogy blog
Maureen Taylor of the Photo Detective blog