My yellow bird
drunk
on guilt and gall
sings griefsongs
in the half mad dawn
Graven in bone
night after night
and dream after dream
every ugly thought
obdurate and sacred
I keep repeating that it’s important to pay attention to addresses, when researching old records. I add them to the database, so they’re trackable. I use Family Tree Maker for my own family and track all the various Basquills in an old copy of Cumberland Family Tree, both of which allow global searching. Both programs also allow browsing all the people associated with a given location, which is invaluable for making connections.
Which brings me to Katie Basquill and 974 Locust Street, Fall River, Massachusetts.
The only Katie Basquill I’m aware of who was born in Fall River is Catherine, the daughter of John L. Basquill and Mary Critchley, and the address given on the baby’s death certificate is the same as John’s and Mary’s. Katie was born in 1896 and would have been just barely 13 years old when this baby was born. Obviously, that would have made her 12 years old when she became pregnant.
I can’t find any trace of Henry Sampson after 1908. Possibly for very good reason.
In my searching for Henry Sampson, though, I found four women who died in Fall River whose parents were Roger Reynolds and Mary Basquill. More stray Basquills? The Fall River strays were all born around 1830 in Ireland, and because they were Basquills, that meant County Mayo. Irish records from before mid-1800s are spotty at best, and even more so for women, so I wasn’t optimistic about fitting these women into the part of the puzzle I’ve already got pieced together. What I did know, just from the birth dates, was that these could not be part of Denis Basquill’s and Ellen Carney’s immediate family. Denis and Ellen were John L. Basquill’s parent’s (grandparents of young Katie), but they were both born in the 1840s, so I felt it was likely that they were cousins of the stray Basquill women. How to prove that, though?
I’m not sure there is any kind of proof, but I do think we can make a pretty good guess. A closer look at the death certificates of the strays showed that two of them had been living on Locust Street when they died. Hm. So they all–both groups of Basquills–were living in the same neighborhood. I’ve seen some strange coincidences, but that beggars belief.
I decided the next step was to take another trawl trawl through Pat Deese’s website. Maybe coming at it from the Mayo end would be helpful? BINGO! I found a Roger Reynolds and Mary Baskwell, living in Cloondacon, Aughagower Parish, County Mayo. I couldn’t find birth or baptism records for the girls who moved to Fall River, but I did find baptism records for three of their boys: Patrick, John, and Michael. AND, I found a record of Roger and Mary as the baptismal sponsors for Thomas and Bridget Baskwell’s daughter Judith/Julia. Thomas, who was the brother of my 3rd great grandfather, Michael. Mary Reynolds was also the baptismal sponsor of 3rd great grandfather Michael’s and wife Margaret’s son, John.
My best guess is that Mary Basquill who married Roger Reynolds is the sister of Michael and Thomas, which would make her my 3rd great grand aunt. I can’t prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I think it’s a reasonable conclusion.
From small realms
and careful orbits
we journey home
unburdened and bootless
defiant and ready
to fell the gathering ghosts.
I mentioned I’ve been kinda sorta doing Camp NaNoWriMo? Only I’m not writing a book or anything too taxing. Instead, I’m trying to make myself write just one tiny poem a day. Sometimes I miss a day and have to do two the next day. However it works out, I want to have 30 little poems at the end of the month. This is not something I’m at all good at. I’ve read a hundred books on harnessing and maintaining creative motivation, and mostly they are all useless. The one exception was Susan Wooldrige’s Poemcrazy. In it, she recommends writing words on pieces of paper or cardstock and placing them in a container. When you need inspiration, draw a few words from the container and start writing.
This? This works for me. My little box of words sits on my coffee table. Last night’s inspiration was “orbits” and “bootless.”
I don’t think I will ever be able to connect this Thomas Baskwell with my people. He was born in the right place (Westport, County Mayo), but there just aren’t enough records surviving from the time period to fit the puzzle together properly. He surely is one of my people, though. Born about 1769, he served for eighteen years in George III’s army, before he was discharged at age 48 for “being worn out.”
I still don’t understand what the hell a poor person is going to do with seven limes, but I did my own little shopping experiment.
The thing is, Gwyneth’s shopping list isn’t all that different from what I regularly buy, and sadly, my food budget doesn’t stretch much beyond $30/week. In fact, that’s my food budget for the next two weeks. This is what I know.
My total, minus the last few items that were not on Gwyneth’s list, was $25.75. Less than what she spent, but I also did not buy seven damn limes. Also, I have lived this for too much of my life to find anything enlightening or interesting or entertaining about actually doing the food stamp challenge. Nothankyou.
This is what $29 gets you at the grocery store—what families on SNAP (i.e. food stamps) have to live on for a week. http://t.co/OZMPA3nxij—
Gwyneth Paltrow (@GwynethPaltrow) April 09, 2015
I think it’s really tone deaf and patronizing for someone as rich as Gwyneth Paltrow is play tourist with poor folks’ lives. Surely she has an imagination and some empathy and can figure out for herself what it’s like to live on food stamps, without turning poverty into a side show attraction?
But if she really wants to do this right, I have some suggestions.
1. Do this experiment for a month, at least.
2. Cook all her food on a single hot plate. No oven, no microwave, no fancy kitchen. Bonus points for not using a refrigerator.
3. Take the bus to the Aldi across town. Don’t forget to have a quarter handy for the shopping cart.
4. Take her kids with her while shopping.
5. Do her shopping after a full work day, and after picking up the kids (on the bus) at daycare/sitter/school, but before the kids have had their supper, so they are at maximum crabcake. Oh, and they want ALL THE THINGS. Which you obviously can’t afford, so you have to deal with the in-store melt-down when you have to tell your tired, hungry, cranky four year old that she’s getting oatmeal instead of the fun cereal with the toy in the box.
6. Have at least one meeting with a welfare counselor who makes her feel like she’s a worthless piece of shit.
7. Zero dollars for non-food items, because those are luxuries. Maybe she could sell plasma for money to buy toilet paper and tampons?
But seriously, seven limes? Is she having margaritas? It makes for a pretty picture, but that’s just not how poor folks shop.
(To be fair, she doesn’t actually say she will be doing the NYC Food Bank challenge. She just posted a photo of what she believes $29 worth of groceries looks like.)