The Bixby Bridge, California  (June 2001).  Back in 1982, I took a picture of this beautiful bridge on the Big Sur coast of California, not realizing the role that it had once played in my family's history.  Many years later, I found an old photo of this bridge taken in the 1930s and, from the caption, learned that my great-uncle, Henry Swang, had helped to build it (later, Henry also helped to build the Golden Gate Bridge).  It had been nearly 20 years since I had seen the Bixby Bridge, but I decided to visit it and pay my respects to Henry Swang.  I was pretty excited as I headed south on Highway 1, and finally I spotted the bridge up ahead.  I pulled over and spent a couple of hours here admiring Henry's work.

Henry's bridge

Greeneville, Tennessee  (July 2001).  A few months after leaving Corinth, Mississippi (see above), my great-great-grandfather, Ransom Myers, was shot in the left arm, which was later amputated.  After returning to Michigan briefly to recuperate, Ransom joined the Michigan cavalry in 1863 and became a courier, seeing fierce action throughout northeastern Tennessee until the end of the war.  In 1864, his unit helped capture the Confederate general, John Morgan, in Greeneville.  I spent an afternoon in Greeneville, visited the house where Morgan was captured, and got a great tour of the Greeneville Museum from the curator, John Hendricks.

Ransom Myers

Brooklyn, Connecticut  (July 2001).  One of my ancestors, a man named Israel Putnam, lived here in the 1700s and, for better or worse, supposedly killed "the last wolf in Connecticut" when he was a young man (I guess there was no SPCA back then).  Following dirt roads and a mile-long trail, I finally found "Israel's Wolf Den," which was actually just a cleft in the rocks.  Israel later became an American general during the Revolutionary War and fought at the Battle of Bunker Hill, and some historians claim that it was Israel who issued the famous command: "Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes."

The Wolf Den

Coventry, Rhode Island  (July 2001).  Nathaniel Greene, another ancestor of mine from the 1700s, grew up here in a house called "The Homestead" and later became one of the most able and successful American generals during the Revolutionary War.  In fact, during the war, George Washington considered Greene to be his best general.  Greene had a modest upbringing, was a true self-made man, and throughout his life remained humble.  His childhood home is well off the beaten path and took me a while to find, but it was well worth it because I got a personal hour-long tour from a woman named Mary, a neighbor and the house's caretaker.

"Is Nathaniel home?"

Ipswich, Massachusetts  (July 2001).  Before my trip, I had spent many months in Oregon researching my family's genealogy via the Internet.  One town that kept popping up was Ipswich, Massachusetts, where one of my ancestors, a man named Humphrey Bradstreet, had landed in 1634, just a few years after the Pilgrims had settled in nearby Plymouth.  Therefore, I decided to stop in Ipswich.  There, with the help of a local librarian, I discovered the exact spot where Humphrey had landed from England on the ship "Elizabeth."  After taking this picture, I wanted to reconnect with my past, so I walked down to the dock and dipped my hand in the seawater.  It was a stirring moment.

The landing site

Rowley, Massachusetts  (July 2001).  Humphrey Bradstreet's son, Moses, moved to the nearby village of Rowley, one of the oldest communities in the U.S., and died there in 1690.  I had run across Moses' name several times on the Internet but knew very little about him.  With the help of Susan Hazen, Rowley's Town Clerk, I found the graveyard where Moses was buried and, after walking past rows of graves, found Moses' 1690 gravestone, barely readable after 300 years of weathering.  Standing by his old gravestone, I felt a true connection with Moses for the first time --  I even got goosebumps.  In fact, I still get goosebumps when I think about that moment.

Moses' gravestone

Lyons, New York  (August 2001).  While doing Internet research in Oregon, I discovered that I had relatives from Holland named Meijers who, in the 1600s, settled in the Dutch colony of New Netherlands, today known as New York state.  One of the Meijers' descendents, Solomon Myers, settled here in Lyons (think "Last of the Mohicans" for the era and location) and fought for the U.S. during the War of 1812.  I spent a few hours in Lyons and, with the help of Deborah, the Town Historian, found documents related to Solomon Myers.  Solomon's son was Ransom Myers (described above in Corinth, Mississippi), who fought for the Union Army during the Civil War and lost his left arm. 

Erie Canal at Lyons

Putnam, Ontario  (August 2001).  A story has been passed down in my family for many generations about Canadian ancestors named Putnam who crossed back and forth many times over the U.S./Canada border in the 1800s, for reasons now obscured by time.  Therefore, I decided to visit the small village of Putnam, Ontario, to see if there was any connection there with my family's history.  With the help of the friendly Putnam librarian, I discovered that the town's founder, a man named Putnam, had crossed back and forth over the Canadian border many times back in the 1800s to avoid capture during a rebellion which he had led in Canada.  I was excited to discover this, since it corroborated our family's story.  After reading this, I knew that one of my ancestors had, indeed, come from this small town, and I learned his fascinating story.

The helpful librarian in Putnam

Mayville Michigan  (August 2001).  After fighting in Corinth, Mississippi, during the Civil War, my one-armed great-great-grandfather, Ransom Myers, returned to his farm near Mayville, Michigan in 1865.  A few years later, his daughter, Minnie, eloped at age 16, much to Ransom's displeasure, and years later she bore a daughter who would become my grandmother.  After her husband died, the heart-broken Minnie and her daughter left Mayville around 1900 bound for Seattle.  With the help of the Mayville librarian, I found the farm that had been owned by Minnie's father, Ransom, along with Ransom's grave and that of his father, Solomon Myers, who was born in Lyons, New York.  After tracing Ransom's footsteps in Mississippi and Tennessee, I had now completed the circle.

The Myers plot in Mayville

Windom, Minnesota  (August 2001).  After researching my father's side of the family, which I've described in the stories above, I studied my mother's ancestors, who had all settled in the Midwest during the 1800s.  My first stop was in southwestern Minnesota where her ancestors, the Reinhards, had arrived from Germany in the 1870s and lived in a sod house.  This was just a few miles south of Walnut Grove, Laura Ingalls' home at this time, so my great-great-grandfather, Henry Reinhard, may have known Laura, because they were the same age.  I visited the farm that Henry's father homesteaded in the 1800s and found a barn that he built in 1893.  During my visit, two guys stopped by and I learned that I was related to one of them, my only known relative still in Minnesota.

Henry Reinhard's 1893 barn

Webster, South Dakota  (August 2001).  My mother had several ancestors who came from Norway in the 1800s.  She had once mentioned the town of Webster and, during my Internet research a few years ago, I discovered a possible ancestral connection.  Therefore, I decided to visit Webster -- and ended up spending two weeks there.  With the kind help of the Day County Recorder's Office staff, I learned a great deal about my great-great-grandparents, Ole and Birgit Svang, and found the place where they homesteaded in 1882.  Ole and Birgit arrived by covered wagon and lived in a sod house.  Years later, Birgit died of a possible suicide (common on the frontier) and the impoverished Ole was evicted from his land at age 83, after farming for 23 years.  I camped on their deserted homestead one night and tried to imagine how difficult their lives must have been.

Ole Svang's homestead

Bismarck, North Dakota  (September 2001).  In the fall of 2001, I stopped in Bismarck for what I thought would be a few days.  I ended up spending seven weeks there, researching my mother's history.  My mother, who died in 1999, had always told my father, myself, and my siblings that she had grown up in Bismarck in the 1930s, that her parents were well-off and that she didn't suffer from the Great Depression.  As I discovered, however, she had actually grown up in poverty in a farm north of Bismarck, then moved to Bismarck when she was a teenager.  From my research, I pieced together her family's story and learned that it was one of toil, stress, and despair.  Evidently, my mother didn't want to admit that she grew up in poverty, but the harsh conditions that she endured during the Great Depression only renewed my deep respect for her.

The farm where my mother grew up

Wing, North Dakota  (October 2001).  The most amazing experience of my trip around the U.S. occurred in the smoky "Chat and Chew Cafe," in the tiny town of Wing, North Dakota.  Here, I introduced myself to an elderly woman and local historian named Hester Bailey.  Through our conversation, I learned that in 1921, amazingly enough, Hester had been my grandmother Helga's kindergarten pupil.  During the next two hours, Hester told me stories about my grandparents that I'd never heard, and the only stories about my great-grandparents that I've ever heard.  Hester even recognized herself in one of my grandmother Helga's photos, which Helga had taken in 1921.  Hester is 89 years old and we still keep in touch.  In fact, she recently sent me a large quilt, which she made for me.

Hester Bailey (left) & her friend, Alice

Dickinson, North Dakota  (October 2001).  In July of 1943, my father joined the U.S. Navy and was sent to Dickinson to attend Officer Training School (like in "An Officer and a Gentleman.")  During his second evening there, he went to a dance in Dickinson, sponsored by the U.S.O.  My mother, who had just graduated from high school in Bismarck, was in Dickinson that weekend visiting a girlfriend.  You guessed it -- my mother met my father that night at the dance, and the rest is history.  I stopped in Dickinson to visit the dance hall where my Mom met my Dad, but sadly discovered that it had been torn down the previous year.  Nevertheless, after visiting the college that my Dad attended, I visited the site where my parents met and where they had once danced to the music of Glenn Miller.

My parents in Dickinson (1943)

Skykomish, Washington  (October 2001).  On the last day of my drive around America, I stopped in the tiny logging town of Skykomish, set high in the Cascade Mountains about an hour east of Seattle.  Back during the Great Depression, my father moved here with his parents and his five older siblings.  They were a poor but happy family, reminding me years later in some ways of the television show, "The Waltons" (perhaps one reason I like that show).  For many years, my grandfather ran a grocery store in Skykomish called "Leu's Market."  These days, there isn't much left of Skykomish, but I stopped here and visited the high school where, back in 1940, my father had been a star basketball player.

Skykomish High

Edmonds, Washington  (November 2002).  In the fall of 2002, after visiting New Zealand and Australia, I was getting ready to return to my job in Portland, when my father became ill.  He was diagnosed with cancer, so I decided to stay with him at his house in Bellingham, Washington.  A few months later, he learned that he only had about a week left to live and he told me he wanted to see his older brother and best friend, Bill Leu, one final time.  The next day, I drove my Dad to Edmonds, and he and Bill had