
I've been working on some family history stuff, and it was one of the projects that I wanted to get done over the summer when I had plenty of time. One of those projects was to get pictures and locations for the burial sites of family members. So, today I hopped in the car with Sal and we took a trip around Michigan to get some pictures for the project.

We started our trip by heading west with the final stop being Kalamazoo. However, since we going right past we decided to stop in Albion to visit the sites of Grandma and Grandpa Berry. I wasn't sure I was going to stop and considered it the entire way out there. As most people know the Berrys are family on account of marriage. My last name comes from that marriage because my step father adopted me and my sister so that the entire family would have the same last name. So I figured we might as well stop as I'm sure Sal or grandkids may wonder where the name comes from.

So, we stopped at a tiny cemetery across from a corn field outside of Albion to visit the graves. I was instantly reminded of my childhood as the smell was exactly as I remember it from childhood as we lived right near here. I never knew grandpa Berry because he died shortly after I was born and far before my mom married my step father. I did know grandma Berry, and as a kid never cared for her too much. She was a little strange, and very vigilant for hooliganism. She watched the buildings across the street, and was very wary of strangers. I guess it had something to do with her upbringing. She also collected things like milk jug rings. I don't know why. We didn't see much of her after my mom divorced my step father, and then we moved to Virginia.
Before heading out we took a quick drive through the trailer park that I used to live in. There were a few trailers still there from when I lived there nearly 25 years ago. Everything had grown up so I didn't really recognize most of the places. There were also a lot of vacant lots, and in my memory it wasn't as run down as it seemed to be now. However, that seems to be the case of Albion in general. I decided to drive through town too. We went through the park, which still seemed pretty nice. I considered letting Sal out to play for a while, but she was looking tired so we kept moving. I will say that the downtown area seemed like they were trying to revitalize it, and it was in better shape than I remember, but overall the town seemed sad and run down.

After the short detour we got back on the highway and continued our drive to the Battle Creek/Kalamazoo area to Fort Custer National Cemetery to visit the grave of my paternal grandfather. This was my first visit since the funeral, which was 13 years ago. We also didn't go to the actual grave site, because they had a special area for funerals. I knew from the online site that hew as buried in Section L and was grave 188. However, I was a bit confused when I arrived because it looked like an empty field. But as I walked out I saw that it was just all the sort of headstones that lie flat.

I'm not entirely sure why they decided to bury my grandfather here rather than closer to home, though I understand a bit of the reasoning. My grandpa fought in World War II and actually trained at Fort Custer, so I learned from my genealogy work. He volunteered for a group that later became known as Merrill's Marauders, which I've mentioned in a previous post. This was a dangerous mission that lasted about a year, and on account of his service he and all the other members of the group received the Bronze Star. I recall he showed me his medals once, and talked about being at Pearl Harbor when the war started, but he never talked about his time in India and Burma. I regret that I didn't get to hear about this, especially since I'm not a historian and teacher. However, my life is full of strained family ties, this is just one of the consequences of those choices my parents made.

Our next stop was to head out towards Hillsdale at a tiny cemetery where a number of people are buried. I thought that I had visited this cemetery before, but when we arrived it was nothing like the memory in my head was, so I don't think that I ever had. It is located way out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by fields and farms. We actually saw two Amish men drive past with their horse drawn farming equipment. Sal was intrigued and when she saw the horses she made the noises she makes for horses. The cemetery is not large, but I had no idea where I was going, but quickly spotted one of the graves and found that all three were located near each other.

The first is the grave of my maternal grandma's sister Elizabeth and her husband Ardell. We called them Aunt Liz and Uncle Joe. Aunt Liz I remember as always being kind of quiet and proper. She was very nice and soft spoken. Out of the aunts she was probably my second favorite on account of we didn't see her often and we saw my aunt Helen all the time. Uncle Joe I also really liked. He was very friendly and just seemed like a nice guy. I really liked both of them, I have good memories of them from when I was growing up.

Right behind them slightly to the right is the grave of my Uncle Claydewy. We just called him uncle Clay, though my gran and great gran often called him Claydewy. He was my favorite of the uncles, and he was my Gran's older brother (his twin sister Claydean is the only one of the 11 still with us, other than my gran). Every time I remember uncle Clay I see him smiling and laughing, because it seemed like that was what he was always doing. I was shocked when my gran told me that he lost a son at and was never quite as happy again after that. His wife is still alive, she's in a nursing home somewhere, but I'm not sure where. I haven't seen her since probably my aunt Liz's funeral where she saw me and said, "You're getting fat!" Thanks, aunt Barb. Haha.

Right to the left of my uncle Clay is my great grandma. I feel very fortunate to have lived much of my life knowing her. She died when I was 13, and because she lived with my grandma, and because we spent so much time there, I interacted with her a lot. I was too young to really ask her about her life. However, it's crazy to me to think about the way the world changed in her lifetime. To think that I know someone who was born in the 1800s and went from horse and buggy to man on the moon and the internet is awesome in the original sense of the word. The last time I saw her was right before we moved to Virginia. She wasn't doing too well and I remember there was a sense that this would probably be the last time I saw her. She was in bed because she couldn't get around much anymore and we said our good byes and gave her hugs before we left the house to drive down. She died two months later and we drove back up for the funeral. She was quite a lady, and I've been scanning old pictures and thinking about her a lot as I do it.

The last stop was very short as I've been a number of times, and it's right down the road from us. I stopped off to visit my grandpa. It's hard to believe that he's been gone ten years this year. When I was tilling up the area for the garden my gran came out and saw that it was getting somewhat large, and she said to me, "YOU'RE AS BAD AS YOUR GRANDPA!" That made me laugh because he did have a garden that was even bigger than the one that I put in. He was big into that, and spent the last few months trying to fix his tractor. Now that I'm gardening too, I kind of wish it hadn't been sold, though it always seemed to need work, and I'm not equipped for fixing tractors.

Knowing that it's been ten years, I think back on the time before that, and it doesn't seem like so long ago. The first though I always have is walking up to the house and he'd usually be standing at the door in the basement looking out watching the birds and cars pass. He'd usually say, "Hey Jason" as I headed to the front door. He wasn't a big talker, but he'd always say hi, and he might talk about work or his garden, but that was about the extent of it. I remember he took me and my friend Allen for a tour of the plant he worked in when I was about 15. He seemed quite pleased to introduce me to everyone he worked with. I enjoyed seeing the plant, it was pretty cool.

I also remember that not long before he died he had talked about wanting to go back to his hometown of Wellsville for a high school reunion. He had asked if I'd be interested in going with him. I don't recall why it didn't happen, I think it was because he got sick before hand. I now wish that we could have gone and I could have asked about growing up and the town. One of the stops on the vacation is to stop by Wellsville to visit the graves of his parents. It would have been nice to get a tour of the town he grew up in from him, especially since I've found some old things of his like certificates and awards, as well as some old year book photos. It's a shame that my interest in family history has come too late, though perhaps that is what has sparked it. Knowing that there comes a time when it is too late and trying to get what you can before you lose all connections to that past.
It was quite a day, we ended up driving nearly 300 miles, but Sal was a real champ, and we got some good information and photos for documentation.
Picture(s) of the Day:
Picture 188

Sal wanted to make sure the flag was secure.