#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Education

My pap-pa, Hoyt Cook, is on the front row, second from left. My mam-ma, Willie Stevens Cook, is in the second row, right behind pap-pa. The tall lady in the center front is principal Clara Stringfield Thompson, who was still principal when I attended Brentwood Elementary School, Pensacola, in the early 1970s. (See end of blog for full list of teachers)

There was never any doubt in my mind that I would graduate from high school and then go on to college. My experience in school, however, was a bit different from day one.

We lived in Scotland the year I turned five. My birthday was just a day (or a few days) after the cut-off to enter first grade. My friends who lived down the street were a few months older, so they got to start school, while I was left behind. My mom went to the headmaster and pleaded our case, but he was an older man and stood firm. My mother, the daughter of teachers and who had, herself, done some substitute teaching before my dad went back in the Navy, was not deterred. She found out what books my friends were using and where to buy them. Every day, we’d ask my friends what they learned, and my mom would make sure I was caught up the next day. A few weeks into the school year, the old headmaster retired, and my mom went back to the school and again pleaded our case, and I was allowed to join the class.

Halfway through second grade, we returned to the United States, and I went half a semester at Gulf Breeze Elementary School while we stayed with my maternal grandparents. Then we moved to our house in Brent, and I finished the year at Pensacola Christian School.

That’s the way my school life went. A few months here, a few months there. When my dad was at sea, my mom and I often moved back to Pensacola, so I spent more time overall in Pensacola schools than anywhere else. We also lived at home, the house my parents built when they first got married, when my dad was stationed at NAS Whiting Field in Milton. His final duty station before retirement was in Panama City; he lived in our camper there during the week and came home on weekends.

Even when I attended the same school for a year, I never once had perfect attendance. My parents thought nothing of taking me out for a day or a week to travel. I mostly had decent grades.

Contrast that with my mom, who attended three schools in Pensacola, had perfect attendance through most of her years of school, and knew many of the same people all her life. I can’t even imagine.

My mom and dad both graduated from high school, and so did my mom’s parents. My maternal grandmother had to fight for the right to go to high school. My maternal grandfather took time off to work on the family farm, so he graduated late, but he still graduated. They were both teachers, and they took weekend classes and summer school and eventually they both earned college degrees.

My paternal grandparents had far less education. They never struck me as being uneducated, but according to the 1940 Census, Papa Hahn finished 6th grade and Grandma Hahn finished 7th grade. They were married when he was 20 and she was 14. Their first child, my dad, was born a year later.

The 1940 Census shows Papa Hahn’s parents, Theodore Hahn and Maggie Cooper, finished 8th and 6th grade, respectively. Grandma Hahn’s parents, Dave Silcox and Annie Givens, completed 5th and 6th grade. Grandma’s half-sister Jewel (aka Judy) was still living at home, and had completed her sophomore year in high school.

According to the 1940 Census, my maternal great-grandparents, Arthur Cook and Dollie Allison finished 6th and 7th grade, respectively. The 1920 Census indicates that both Billie Stevens and Mollie Pittman could read and write; Billie died before 1940, but that Census shows that Mollie completed the 3rd grade.

From the 1880 Census, my paternal great-great grandparents William F. Hahn and Ary Loper could both read, and she could write. Henry Cooper and Sarah Givens could both read, and she could write. William H. Silcox could read and write; his wife Doratha Duck could not. Looking at the 1920 Census, another set of great-great grandparents, John Silcox and Ellen Parker could both read and write.

On my mom’s side, looking at the 1880 Census, John Cook and Loucinda Ryals could neither read nor write. John Allison and Delila Bruce, on the 1900 Census, could both read and write. The 1900 Census also indicates that Isaac Pittman and Mosella Thompson could read and write. I haven’t identified William Stevens in any Census records; his wife, Mary Reid could read, but not write, according to the 1920 Census.

I am fortunate to have lived in a time and with parents who encouraged my education.

Here I am in my Washington High School yearbook photo with other members of Future Business Leaders of America.

Brentwood School Teachers 1956-1957

Front Row (L-R)

1 Allie Dismukes
2 Hoyt Cook
3 Ms. Perry
4 Ms. Glover
5 Mrs. Clara Stringfield Thompson
6 Ms. Kraut
7 Ms. Gay
8 ??
9 Ms. Joiner

Second Row (L-R)

1 Ceil Alcott or Ms. Steiner
2 Nancy Christianson
3 Willie Stevens Cook
4 Dorothy Laird Robertson
5 Pauline Carr
6 Ms. Smith
7 Ceil Settle
8 Barbara Gillespie Shivers
9 Ms. Gafford
10 Marguerite Byrd
11 Betty Hale
12 Fern Vaughn
13 ??

Third Row (L-R)

1 ??
2 ??
3 ??
4 ??
5 Louise Calvert
6 Ms. McLaney
7 ??
8 Mary Russell
9 Charlotte Harrison
10 ??
11 Evelyn Bonifay
12 ??
13 Lillie Mitchell
14 ??
15 Ms. Smith (Willis)
16 ??

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#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Out of Place

This week, I scanned a bunch of photos that my mom had taped onto 8.5″x11″ paper to take to a copy shop years ago. This was when home scanners were rare, and office supply stores didn’t offer color copies. She took it to a store that specialized in making color copies of family photos.

As I went through the pages, I knew I had already scanned some of the images, but the “originals” that I worked from were some of the copies she had made. Other pictures I don’t remember seeing at all. Either way, I wanted to get all these pictures – the cleanest original copies – digitized.

They’re photos from my dad’s family. The collection includes pictures of my great-grandparents, Theodore and Maggie Cooper; my dad’s sister Nancy Diana Hahn who died young; another great-grandfather, Henry David Silcox. Several of the pictures were labeled “Billie” and my mom had added “Ora Mae Silcox.”

I believed Ora Mae was one of my grandmother’s half-sisters, from her father Henry David Silcox‘s first marriage to Sarah McCann. When I went to FamilySearch to upload the pictures, I realized the name I had there was different – Ida W. Silcox. This was the name as listed on the 1920 Census. “Ida” was six years old. I had assumed this was Billie, but now here was another name. Were these two people the same? Was “Ida” a mistake or had her name been changed over time?

“United States Census, 1920”, database with images, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:MXCG-NCP : 31 January 2021), Henry D Silcox family, 1920.

I took another look at the scanned census form. The name of Silcox, Henry D. is a bit smudged. Then comes his 17-year-old wife (half his age!) Annie O. (for Olive).

Juanita Elaine is listed here as Mamie E. Next comes Eva Inez, we’ll the “Ev” seems clear enough. Followed by Ida W., and baby — is that Annie? Hmm. It has to be my grandmother, Malzie Elizabeth. I wonder when they finalized her name.

However, before I changed Ida’s name to Ora Mae on FamilySearch, I just wanted to make sure that this wasn’t some other cousin who was also called Billie. One of the first things I did was search to see if anyone else had created an Ora Mae Silcox profile, and I found one.

No one had added any photos, so I couldn’t compare faces. The profile did not have her parents’ names, so no help there. It did have listed three husbands: Joseph Cinotto, Eugene Ough, and Edward Dilzer.

One of the pictures I had was “Billie and Johnny, 1946.” That was ten years after her marriage to Joseph, and about a year and a half before her marriage to Eugene. Johnny was a sailor, but beyond that, I have no clue of his identity, and the picture is no help in verifying if this Billie is my grandmother’s half-sister.

If anyone who reads this blog recognizes Johnny, please let me know who he is, so I can attach the proper full name.

Another photo said, on the back, “Billie Ouch.” Or maybe “Oueh.” Could be a misspelling of Ough, but not definitive.

I headed over to newspapers.com and searched “Ora Mae Silcox.” I found an article from the Journal and Courier, Lafayette, Indiana, that listed Miss Ora Mae Silcox among the guests for a party at the Rediger home. Rediger! I knew that name and quickly verified that Billie’s sister Juanita had been married to Alvin Rediger. Still, could there be another Billie Silcox?

I kept going and found my great-grandfather’s obituary, listing among his survivors his daughter Ona Mae Ough. Misspelling of the first name aside, I now felt confident that “Ida” and “Ora Mae” were one and the same. Then I searched “Billie Dilzer” in quotation marks with the addition of Silcox, and found she was listed under that married name in the obituary for one of her half-brothers, Norman Silcox. I found a marriage record for Billie Ough and Edward Dilzer in 1970.

Finally, I looked at the records related to her first husband. His profile name was given as “Joseph Steven Cinotto Jr.” but all the records give his name as Steve, Steve J., or Steve Joseph. His father’s name is also given as Steve Joseph Cinotto Sr. After correcting the name, I reviewed the records that had already been attached to his profile. I found a marriage record showing that Steve married Ora Mae Silcox in 1936. In 1940, the couple is listed in the U.S. Census as living together in Peoria, Illinois. Her birthplace is given as Alabama, and her parents’ birthplaces aren’t listed. As I started searching, I found a 1930 Census listing Ora Mae Silcox as a live-in maid for a family in Peoria, born in Florida, and both parents from Florida, as is correct. I now firmly believed this Ora Mae was my Ora Mae, too. The clincher – I looked back through the photos and found one labeled Steve and Ora Mae in Chicago, Ill. Bingo!

Ora Mae Silcox was out of place on the FamilySearch family tree. Thanks to old family photos and online records, she’s now where she belongs.

Steve and Ora Mae Cinotto in Chicago, Illinois.
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#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Favorite Photo (2023)

It’s good that this topic comes up every year in the 52 Ancestors project, because there’s always another photo that needs its story told. Here’s my favorite for this year:

I took this photo on Easter Sunday, 16 April 2006, in front of my parents’ home. English ivy covers the southwest corner of the house, the wall of my old bedroom, and the flower bed on the corner has several azalea bushes My parents, Zenova and Bill Hahn, wanted a photo for the church directory, and I thought the flowers and greenery would provide the perfect backdrop.

To the left is the photo I set out to take that sunny Sunday. It’s a fairly standard portrait on the second to last Easter we had with my dad. We knew he had cancer. He would pass away one year and eight days later.

My parents loved each other very much, and my dad was always very demonstrative. When he leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek, I snapped a picture.

At first, my mom didn’t care for it. Her hair was mussed up and it was kind of silly. I, of course, wasn’t about to delete it, and as time went on, my mother came to love the photo of the kiss.

It’s a special moment that puts a smile on my face every time I think of it.

If you’re interested in playing along with the 52 Ancestors challenge, check out the list of prompts for this year at Amy Johnson Crow’s website. You can sign up to get weekly reminders to preserve your family stories, or just write at your own pace. However you do it, take some time to save and share your pictures and stories, so they will be around for future generations.

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#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: I’d Like to Meet

This week, our topic has us fantasizing about which of our ancestors we’d like to meet. For me, it’s a relative that has intrigued me for most of my life.

I learned when I was a child that my great-grandfather or his father (I was never quite clear on that) came to America from Germany when he was three years old. I remember being told that my German ancestor had relatives back in Germany, and these “maiden aunts” had their property taken by the Nazis. In high school, I took a couple of years of German, because of my German heritage. When I asked the name of this mysterious ancestor, I was told that he was called “Grandpa Loper.” So, of course, when I started looking around on the internet, I would search for Loper Hahn who came to the United States at age 3.

It turns out that most of what I knew about my ancestor was wrong.

Excerpt from 1896 map of Pensacola waterfront. A red dot marks the area where I believe William Hahn lived around the time the map was made.
Pensacola was a major port on the Gulf Coast in 1896, when this map was made. I have added a red dot near where I believe William and Ary were living around that time.

His name was William Fredrick Hahn. He died many years before my grandfather Charlie Hahn was born. His youngest son, Theodore, is my great-grandfather. He was 21 when William died, and I know that in 1900, Theodore was living with his maternal uncle, William Loper (Grandpa Loper) and his wife. Maybe he didn’t know much about his father to pass on. Some of the information I was told may simply have been misremembered. Some of the other stories may have been created for entertainment purposes.

Here’s what I know now.

William was born around 1846 in Germany. His obituary says he was a native of Berlin. If he had any siblings, they were long gone before the Nazis came to power. According to a naturalization document, he arrived in the United States around 1859, when he was 13 years old. He tended to work around the waterfront, as a baymen or laborer. He is named on two patents – one for a domino case with scoring system, and one for a slate with a sliding ruler for drawing lines. William died in 1907, when he was about 61 years old.

I have so many questions for William.

֍ Were you born in Berlin, the capital, or Berlin, the little town in Schleswig-Holstein?
֍ Were you baptized, and if so, do you know the name of the church?
֍ What are your parents’ names?
֍ Did you travel to the United States with your family?
֍ Do you still have family in Germany?
֍ Tell me about your work – what was your first job? How did you train?
֍ How did you meet your wife, Ary Loper?
֍ How did you come up with your inventions?

I’m sure if I could have this conversation with him, I would think of many more follow up questions.

If you’re interested in writing more about your ancestors, visit Amy Johnson Crow’s website and sign up to receive a weekly prompt like this one.

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2022 Got Away from Me

I don’t know why I first got behind on 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks this year. Maybe one week, I had to work a lot of overtime or something else kept me away from the computer. In the past, if I got behind, I started where I left off and I caught up by posting twice in one week. Or three times. This year, though, while I made some efforts to catch up, eventually, I just got too far behind.

The creator of #52Ancestors plainly says, don’t worry about skipping a week. Just pick up where you left off. Or pick and choose which weeks’ prompts you write about. I tried that, too. I tried jumping ahead and writing to the current prompt, but I felt guilty that I skipped posts.

I need to start fresh, which will probably be in a few weeks, when January 1st rolls around.

In the meantime, I have some projects. I’m looking at Twitter alternatives, and now have profiles on Post.news and Mastodon. At least a couple hundred genealogists have embraced Mastodon, so I expect to use that for family history-related posting, networking, and research troubleshooting. The #genealogy community online is generally amazing and interesting.

Post is a little more straightforward to use, and I expect that once it’s up to speed, that’s where I’ll see and share more content in other areas of interest, from current events and entertainment news, to nerdisms and cute animal pics.

My genealogy goals remain similar:

Advance my family tree accurately using documents and DNA. I just completed the Intermediate Foundations program at SLIG, and I need to apply what I’ve learned to break through my brick walls.

Pursue more advanced genealogy education. There are a couple of other DNA-related courses I’d like to take, depending on financial considerations. Medical bills and, more recently, a home plumbing project and a couple of car repairs, have cut into our fun money.

Photo of siblings Cleve Pittman and Mollie Stevens in Muscogee, Escambia County, Florida. This photo was taken in the 1960s and was scanned from the collection of Mollie's daughter Willie Cook.
Grover Cleveland Pittman, known as Cleve, and Mary E. Pittman Stevens, known as Mollie.

Preserve more recent family history. Mom just paid the bill for 1,400 slides and several old home movies to be digitized. Now I need to add metadata and find ways to share them with relatives – by email, uploading to FamilySearch, duplicating onto thumb drives and passing them out.

The photo on the left is one of those slides. Cleve Pittman and his sister Mollie Stevens were photographed in Muscogee, Escambia County, Florida. That’s all the information that I got from the brief handwritten note on the frame of the slide. The siblings were born in Baldwin County, Alabama, and after their father’s death, the family moved to Muscogee. That’s where my grandmother Willie Stevens was born and grew up. But where in Muscogee is this? Are they revisiting their old homestead, now overgrown? Is this the site of the Muscogee cemetery, which has now been somewhat preserved, but many of the markers are gone? No one is alive who was there the day this photo was taken. Since it was stored away in a slide carousel, it’s been decades since anyone has even looked at it.

This is my mission – to bring these photos to the light of the day and make connections with cousins who will be pleased to be able to put a face to the names in the family tree.

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#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Preservation

I’ve been fortunate that my family has been able to hold onto a lot of memorabilia and ephemera. I don’t know if I’ll ever get through it all. I remember years ago (decades ago), my mom showed me some stock certificates in her grandmother’s name. Where it is today, I have no idea, but I know my mother wouldn’t have thrown it away.

My most recent preservation project involved packing up slides to send off for scanning. I could scan them at home, but the process is more cumbersome than scanning photos – and I have plenty of photos to scan, too. The company – Scan Cafe – just finished scanning them and sent me a link to what we would have called “proofs” in the olden days. I can delete the ones that are too blurry or degraded with age to make out anything. Most of what’s going in the “trash” are out-of-focus landscapes; the scenery was probably gorgeous, but if it’s a blurry shot out the car window with faded colors, there’s really no point in keeping a digital copy. We will get the originals back, if anyone in the family wants to second guess my decisions.

It’s been fun looking back at the photos, and not just at the people. There’s Mam-ma’s silver tinsel Christmas tree, which I’ve heard about but don’t really remember. The ceramic cat (left) on shelves that were made by stacking bricks and laying boards on top of them. I’m looking at the picture of Mam-ma and Pap-pa’s first house on Palafox Street, which I only visited as a very young child, but I can tell you right where that cat, and the school bell, and the old hardback books were located in their “new” house in Gulf Breeze.

Once we get the full resolution scans, the next project is to sit down with my mom and go through them one by one, adding names and any other memories to the metadata. Then I’ll share some of them on FamilySearch, and create a photo album on Flickr, which I know will keep the metadata intact. I may need to pick up some thumb drives and send them to relatives, in an effort to get the pictures into more hands. The more people who have them, the more likely they’ll be accessible to others in the future.

A lot of things can happen to physical media. Fire and water damage have taken some of our family memories, I know. Digital media can fail as well; it’s probably time for me to buy more hard drives and move over all my scanned photos and documents before the drives I have go bad. Cloud storage is an idea, but what happens when I die, and I’m not around to pay the bill any more?

It breaks my heart to know that some photos are beyond saving. Like this one my mom handed to me recently. It had been in a plaster frame with a bubble of glass over it, but clearly something happened to it to degrade the faces. We have no idea who was in this picture. I scanned it just in case I can figure out some way to see past the damage to make out the features. It’s a good reminder to scan photos sooner rather than later.

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#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Free Space

The day was April 28th, 1989. I had been living in Central Florida for seven months, and finally, my day off coincided with a scheduled launch of the space shuttle. That morning, I got in my car for the approximately 50-mile drive from Kissimmee to Kennedy Space Center.

As I neared the base, traffic was backed up, and while I don’t remember for certain, I was probably hearing on the radio that the parking lots were full. Like hundreds of other people, I pulled over and parked on the side of the road.

I got out of the car and pulled out my 35mm camera. Someone else waiting nearby pointed out that we could see Atlantis on the launch pad, way off in the distance. I didn’t have a zoom lens, so what you see in the picture was pretty much what it looked like in real life. Very tiny. Still, since I had been living in Central Florida, NASA had launched shuttles three times, and I knew they were visible from 50-70 miles away. I figured it would be spectacular from a couple of miles away.

People had their radios turned up, so we could hear the countdown. Gosh, I was excited to finally witness a shuttle launch “up close.”

Then at T -31 seconds, they scrubbed the launch.

I get it. I remembered the Challenger disaster. I would much rather they cancelled the flight than put the astronauts at risk, but as I wrote on the back of the photo that I sent to my mom, “What a bummer!”

I never had another chance to try to see one from close to Cape Canaveral, although I did see a few other shuttle and rocket launches, usually while I was working at Walt Disney World. I remember one day, I was working the Backstage Studio Tour at what was then the Disney-MGM Studios, and I was able to call attention to the shuttle going up during one of the tours.

I had been fascinated with space and the space program for a long time. My mom says she got me up to watch Neil Armstrong walk on the moon in 1969, but I don’t remember that. I do remember watching every space shuttle launch and landing that I could, when I wasn’t in school or at work. I remember hearing about the Challenger and calling my mom to verify it was true, because I didn’t believe it. I remember being jealous of my dad getting to meet astronaut Judith Resnick when she visited his base in Panama City; she was one of the crew killed aboard Challenger.

I didn’t figure I would ever have a shot at going up in space. Not because when I was growing up there weren’t any women astronauts. No, I didn’t have perfect vision or excellent math skills, both of which were required to become a military pilot, which is what you had to be to be considered for the space program. Now, of course, all kinds of non-pilot scientists get to go up to space, but sadly, it is too late for me. If they ever offered a seat to an aging, overweight news producer, though, I would throw my name in the hat in a heartbeat!

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#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: At the Library

I miss going to the library. It’s one of the things I’ve been avoiding since the plague arrived. I used to love going and picking out books when I was a child, and then years later, and a few years ago now, my husband and I checked out several TV series on DVD.

A number of years ago, now, I served on a library panel that helped create a long-term plan for the West Florida Library System. It was an interesting experience, and in the years since, I have seen some of the suggestions we made come to fruition.

The downtown Pensacola library now has sewing machines (!!) and I went there to sew a Star Wars costume. I had found the pattern for said Jedi outfit online, and the library also has a large format (like banner size) printer that I used to print the pattern.

In all the years since I started my genealogy research, I have never had enough time at the library. They have funeral home records that may (*may*) finally answer questions about my great-great grandmother Mary “Mollie” Reid Stevens Gilmore Muterspaugh. I just haven’t had time to look. I used the computer many times to access Ancestry, and it was during one of those sessions that I finally found a naturalization document for my great-great grandfather William F. Hahn.

The genealogy branch library now has a scanner that can do book size, and I have several items I would like to digitize and share.

In this day of digital reading and research, I do miss the accidental discoveries we made when we had to look things up the old-fashioned way, with a trip to the library, the card catalog, and turning every page to get to the one we wanted. I just hope our digital records survive as long as the books have.

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#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Help

This prompt, from Amy Johnson Crow’s 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks Challenge, reminds me of a story that my parents’ minister told at my dad’s funeral.

He recalled the time that he and my dad were outside of the church in Ensley, a community in Escambia County, Florida. A man came up asking for money, and Mark said he’d go inside and get something for the man. I don’t recall if he intended to get the man a small amount of money or food, but he said that, instead, my dad pulled $20 out of his wallet and gave it to him.

When the man had left, Mark said to my dad something like, “You know he’s just going to use that money for liquor or drugs, right?” and my dad replied something like, “That’s up to him, but I felt like I needed to offer him the help.”

I know I don’t remember the words exactly, but the message has stuck with me these 15 years.

Twice, I felt like I got bilked by someone asking for help, and I’ve always resented it. Once was back in the ’80s. A woman came to my parents’ house, where I still lived, and told me she worked at the day care down the street and her mother was sick and she needed to get to Mobile and could she borrow some money, and then could she get a ride. I gave her about $20 and gave her a ride to another neighborhood. I started getting suspicious by the time I got home, and I called the day care. They told me she didn’t work there; she’d come to them asking for money and telling them she lived in the green house – which was my house. I called and told the sheriff’s office, but of course, I was still a fairly new driver and she had directed me into an area where I hadn’t gone before, so I couldn’t even say where I dropped her off.

Another time, still years ago, but I should have been older and wiser, a woman came to my door and gave a very similar story. I told her I couldn’t give her money but that I’d give her a ride. She directed me to a store down the street, where a man got into the back seat. Then I got scared. I drove them to a nearby motel and they got out. I felt so stupid. And lucky. Anything could have happened to me.

People have helped me before. When my car got a flat in Orlando, a man stopped and put the spare on for me. I was with two or three girlfriends of mine, and we were standing on the side of the road holding the tire removal tool and looking at the time, and I know he could tell we had no idea what we were doing.

Another time, I was with my mom and the car conked out and a man stopped and helped us. My mom offered to pay him, but he refused it and just said to pass it on and help someone else in the future. Now, he’d say to pay it forward.

I think most of us probably have it in our hearts to help someone in trouble or need when we can, and whether that person is bamming us is on them, not on us. Unfortunately, though, that last experience of finding myself at the mercy of two strangers has left me feeling that I cannot help anyone, for fear of putting my life at risk.

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#52Ancestors in 52 Weeks: Teams

The first image this prompt conjured up was a photo of my dad that I think I probably first saw just a few months ago. At least, I never remember seeing it growing up.

When my mom and dad first got married, and my dad was working at St. Regis Paper Mill in Escambia County, the mill had a baseball team. I gather it was a community league, and they played teams from other businesses, or maybe even other divisions within the mill.

Bill Hahn at the ballfield and relaxing at home in his uniform.

I looked up on newspapers.com, to see if I could find any articles about a game in which my dad might have been mentioned. No luck there (unless they misspelled the last name), but I did find an article about a St. Regis employee golf tournament where he was listed. I remember him going to play golf a few times, and once or twice I went with him, when I was in elementary school. For me, golfing was just a lot of walking. Other than that, I really don’t remember him being involved in sports while I was growing up.

It’s interesting to see how active he was before I came along!

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