Lisa's and Tom's mountaintop wedding

The last week of September, 2009, Lisa Uknavage and Tom Champlin were married high in the mountains above Estes Park, Colorado. It was beautiful! The weather was warm and dry, the bride and groom were happy and excited, and friends and family arrived from all over the country to celebrate this special occasion. You can view more photos on my Flickr collection.

Cousin Frank Beard Passed Away

I just got the news that Frank Beard died of a heart attack July 27, 2009. Frank was my mother's first cousin on the Doss/Woosley branch of the family tree. I didn't know Frank well, only met him once face to face and talked on the phone half a dozen times but Frank played an important role in our family because he did so much genealogy research and gladly shared it with us. Frank was a member of the LDS church and their pursuit of family ties benefits us all. In our family Duell Franklin Beard was affectionately known as Tog or Toggie. I don't know who gave him that nickname or what it meant but everybody knew him by that. The year I met him at a family reunion in Southern Illinois he entertained us by singing and playing the guitar and by handing out genealogy family group sheets that showed us a link to our European heritage and to Pocohantas. For years after that cousins wrote to me asking if I kept a copy of that "paper that showed we were related to Pocohantas". Thank you so much, cousin Frank, and goodbye.

Joe Uknavage in the Navy

Mike Uknavage wrote this story about our dad, Joe Uknavage, in December of 2006.

(Note: this Joe Uknavage is the older son of the Joe Uknavage in the photo to the right of this post.)

Dad joined the Navy “before Pearl” and stayed in for “the duration”; it was six years, in all. His discharge papers state an enlisted date of 3 June 1940 at NRS St. Louis, MO., and a discharge date of 2 June 1946 from the USN Separation Center, Great Lakes, Illinois. He was a Boatswain’s Mate First Class and could tie a shitload of knots. He taught me many of them and I occasionally used this knowledge to tie-up my sister, Fran. Dad learned to box while in the CCC’s and continued the sport in the Navy. In addition to his regular duties, he was the “Ship’s Boxer” for his weight-class, and officially represented his ship in sanctioned boxing matches, he told me. I don’t know which ship(s) he represented, for he served on three of them, the Saratoga, the Boston, and the Colorado (in that order). One of Dad’s former shipmates told me that sometimes when he and Dad were on shore leave, they would go from bar to bar picking fights (barfights, not the kind conducted in a ring with a referee). He said Dad was a “tough little son-of-a-bitch”, and won most of his fights. Dad and Uncle Bill served on the Saratoga together, but after the five Sullivan brothers were all killed on the ship, Juneau, in November of 1942 the Navy didn’t allow siblings to serve together anymore. According to Dad, “Brother Bill” was always stirring up trouble, anyway, and Dad was greatly relieved when the Navy assigned him to a different boat. Rummaging through Dad’s personal effects after his death, I found a letter written to Dad from a Mr. Steve Lamkin. In it, he reminisced quite extensively about their time together on the Saratoga. He addressed Dad as “Big Uke” and my Uncle Bill as “Little Uke”, for he obviously knew them both. Dad’s membership card for the “U.S.S. Boston Shipmates, Inc.” lists his tour of duty on that ship as 1943-1945. Further, an old set of orders from the U.S.S. Colorado awards him the following uniform decorations (among others): “Philippine Liberation”, and “Participated Occupation of Japan”. This supports another official Navy document which lists his last ship served on as the U.S.S. Colorado, Seattle Washington. In charge of roll call, Dad said he’d once “mustered” Jackie Cooper, the actor, when he served. Another time, Dad told me how the Dept. of the Navy was desperately seeking young officers to fill shortages caused by the war. He told me that he’d scored exceptionally high marks on his entrance exams to the Naval Academy at Annapolis, but was later refused admission because his father’s death certificate listed “delirium tremors” as his cause of death. Dad’s inference was that Annapolis didn’t accept applicants with such a questionable moral background. Later, Mom told me that wasn’t the true facts of the story and that “ your dad sometimes lies about things just so he can feel sorry for himself some more.” That was pretty astute of Mom to know that about him, don’t you think? He never gave her much credit for her brains, but he always said he’d managed to marry the “prettiest of all them Smith girls”, meaning Mom. In a moment of nostalgia once, Dad told me of the first time his ship came under aerial attack from the Japanese and how his gun crew just stood around in awe and confusion, unable to act. Dad said he jumped up into the turret, trained the gun on an incoming plane, and shot it down. He said he cried as he watched the plane go down, realizing that he’d killed somebody for the first time in his life. Tears filled his eyes as he recounted the tale to me, and I had no reason not to believe him on that one. Once when I was about eight years old, I blurted out that I wanted to join the Navy when I got big. Dad had a fit.

Grandma Smith

Every little girl should be so lucky as I was, to have a kind and loving grandma who taught me to crochet and thread a needle, but more importantly showed me how to be a grandma. She's been gone now for thirty-eight years and my memories are fading but I savor those that linger and play them over in my mind. Southern Illinois summers, pallets on the living room floor, small fans stirring the hot air, flipping the pillows over and over trying to find a cool side, june bugs bouncing off the back porch light bulb, wild dew berries and blackberries, chigger bites that itched for days, June apples and salt shakers, the outhouse with its bag of lime and spiders, fresh lemonade and iced tea, cistern water and the aluminum dipper, cousins Johnnie, Lucy, Jitterbug, Janice, and Steve, and always new baby cousins to hold and play with. Summertime trips to Harco were eagerly anticipated and never disappointing. Soon after arriving we trouped out through the back yard barefoot to Lois Naugle's store where we renewed our acquaintance with her, reminded her of our names and who our parents were - Pam, Mike, Francie and Kathy, Joe and Mildred's kids. We bought a Dixie cup or Nehi orange pop. What freedom! We walked back toward Grandma and Grandpa's house, passed the plum thicket along the road paved with coal cinders, passed the mulberry tree with its messy web worms and purple fruit, into the yard with its smoke house, garden, and pile of scrap metal.

Grandma loved to have her hair brushed. She wore it long and pulled back in a bun but longed to have it shaken loose and brushed by her grandchildren. We always grew bored with the task long before she was ready for us to quit. And Grandma dipped snuff, one of those endearing habits she learned from her Kentucky family. She kept a ladies handkerchief in the pocket of her house dress to wipe the little stream of brown saliva that dribbled out the corner of her mouth. She sang old lullabies to her grandbabies and rocked them in her lap, a soft, ample lap that jiggled when she laughed, which was often. There is a song by Gail Davies called "Grandma's Song" which I dearly love for it reminds me of my Grandma - Verla Leona Doss Smith, known as Verlie, Miss Smith, and Grandma.

Isabella and karaoke

Today I took my 3-year-old granddaughter, Isabella, to a grade school fair near here. She won a prize fishing for plastic ducks while blindfolded and another throwing little sand bags through holes in a plywood backboard, but what really excited her was the karaoke booth. Bouncy music and giggling girls attracted us both to a booth that featured microphones, cameras, and a little TV while kids, mostly girls, tried their luck at the "Who Will Be The Next Wellington Idol?" karaoke contest. Isabella waited in line for her turn only to be told when she reached the front that there were a select few songs available. The girl running the show handed Isabella a printed sheet with the lyrics but since she can't read that didn't help much. I told her that Isabella sings "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and she smiled sympathetically and said something like "maybe next year."

I wish I could say that what happened next was immediate, within earshot of that young woman at the booth, but I would be tweaking my story to make it fit. The fact is, about thirty minutes later when Isabella and I were in my car headed for the nearest grocery store I heard her little voice in the back seat singing this song "When I was just a baby, my mama told me, Son, always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns, but I shot a man in Reno, just to see him die...."

I started laughing and then quickly stifled that reaction so I wouldn't offend her and stop the flow of music. I recognized the tune as a Johnny Cash song her dad plays and sings but that was the first time I'd heard those words sung by Isabella. I told her how surprised and pleased I was to hear her sing the song and she sang it again for me.

At the grocery store as I paid at the cash register. Isabella, sitting high above the cart full of groceries, must have realized she had a new audience and broke into song again. The cashier and nearby customers smiled and encouraged her, giving her all their attention. She did a great job singing in tune and getting the cadence right and her audience was entranced. A man asked her where she learned that song and she said, "My dad told me."

Interesting relatives

This morning an official 2010 census taker came to the door. This was simply a preliminary visit, one in which he verified our address and gave me little slip of paper about privacy - how they won't share our information with the IRS, is what he said. He was a friendy guy, about sixty, who said our place reminded him of his family's farm home near Chicago. That opened the conversation to the "I'm from Illinois too," and "I really love Colorado but I sure do miss the greenery of Illinois," kind of chat that us Coloradoans-from-the-midwest often engage in. It served to take me back to my pre-1970 life in Illinois and the family I grew up with and miss at times like this. So all afternoon as I cleaned the fridge and put a coat of stain on a couple of cabinet doors I thought about those relatives and how much I miss them. I still have Rachel in Chicago, Johnny Jo in Marion, and Laura Ann in Eldorado but most of the rest of them are gone. The realization that I am now a member of the older generation, make that oldest generation, makes me want to clean up my act, become more of a role model, or at the very least someone who leaves a favorable impression. I wonder if it's too late.....

Judith Ann Larson Uknavage - Grandma Judy

Rachel just sent me this wonderful photograph of Judy playing the accordian. I just love it. I had no idea she ever played any musical instrument. In fact, I know almost nothing about her childhood, other than she grew up on an Illinois dairy farm, the oldest of three children. I guess I should have asked her to tell me about her early years. Thanks goes out to Dean, Judy's brother, for providing this treasured family photo. The other photo is Dad and Judy's wedding photograph. I really like it too. Dad was 49 when this was taken and Judy just 29.