Add up all the factual fragments to build your preferred family history

"You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back home to the escapes of Time and Memory." -- Thomas Wolfe, "You Can't Go Home Again" I pull most of the family information I post here from a box of letters and documents sent to me by my sister Molly. She challenged me to discover ways to assemble a family history from the disparate fragments. That's just what I've done, composed fragmented stories from memorabilia fragments. Find examples here, here and here.

Life is composed of fragments. We humans try to make sense of those fragments, infuse them with meaning. Writers try to link fragments into a meaningful whole, meaningful to us and to our readers. It's kind of like that screen blurb on certain movies: "Based on a true story." 

Any family tree tells incomplete stories of a person's life. I took a few from a family tree sketched on what is now a large, tattered sheet of liver-colored construction paper. Someone, and I don't know who, took the time to put down the names and details in what looks like a thin-point Sharpie. Many of these details you won't find on genealogy sites. 

My Grandfather's brother Thomas died on April 1, 1918 at 20, possibly a casualty of the 1918 flu pandemic. He was old enough to be a soldier in the Great War, as were his two older brothers, but no mention is made of that. But he was a "Natural Born Farmer, good with horses."

Grandfather, whom we called Big Danny, was also good with horses as every good cavalry officer should be. We heard the story a hundred times about how Gen. Pershing selected Big Danny's mount to ride while inspecting the troops in France in 1918. 

His brother Bernard  "served on the USS Cassin (Destroyer) WWI." He went to Ft. Lyons Hospital in Colorado Springs from "1920-22 "for a service connected disability." Upon release, he became a salesman. His son Dick was a Navy pilot in WWII who was "shot down, rescued someone, and received Navy medal." 

Big Danny spent time at Fitzsimons Army Hospital in Denver in 1920-21 for a service-connected disability which was said to be pneumonia or possibly TB. Later, he became an insurance salesman.

My great-grandmother Molly, a woman I identified in an earlier post as "the most beautiful in St. Patrick's Church," had a sister Annie who "ran boarding house, did not marry." No dotted lines run below her listing to link her with other names. Since Annie ran a boarding house, I'm sure she had stories to tell. She probably had family stories to tell too. Here's one question I'd like to ask Annie: How did you, sister of "the most beautiful in St. Patrick's Church," end up as the old aunt who runs the boarding house? Thomas Wolfe's mother ran a boarding house in Asheville; Thomas was one of the boarders. He had many stories to tell. He died too soon.

The name Annie resonates with me. My mother was Anna Marie, my mother-in-law Ann Marie, and my daughter, Anne Marie. Anne is derived from Hannah and means "favored, grace."

My great great grandfather, Irish immigrant Thomas O'Shea, father of Michael Francis who married  the beautiful Molly, married Mary Burns and emigrated to the U.S. "about 1860." At some point, he "changed name to Shay." Not sure why he changed the family name. Maybe he was trying to simplify, jettison the O' and simplify spelling to Shay. The Irish were used to the O' and Mc parts of Irish names. Ellis Island personnel should have been, too, as hordes of Irish came over in the late 1840s and early 1850s to escape the potato famine. Maybe he was trying to pass as non-Irish. Admitted to the U.S., he could have trundled right over to Manhattan and landed a job.

Hello, my name is Tom Shay. I'm definitely not Irish so you can immediately give me a position in the executive ranks of your large Anglo-Saxon firm. 

Anybody would buy that line if they could understand what Tom said in his thick brogue and if he wasn't dressed in a cowpie-streaked farmer's overalls, wearing a straw hat, and brandishing a pitchfork. His neck would be red, too, as redneck was slang for all Irish who worked outside under the unfriendly sun. 

Welcome to the firm, Tom. Let me show you our secret handshake. 

Fantasy, of course. He was a farmer in Ireland and he was a farmer in Iowa. And father to eight kids. 

Big Danny (I mentioned him already)), grandson of Thomas and an Iowa City native, returned to his hometown after World War 1. Left to his own devices, he might have joined the ranks of Iowa farmers and Iowa Hawkeye fans. Having a 'hawkeye' means being "particularly observant, especially to small details, or having excellent vision in general." But Big Danny's hawkeye failed to notice a festering lung ailment that took him first to an Iowa army hospital and then to Denver's Fitzsimons. Big Danny married a nurse, got a job, bought a house, raised a family, and lived in Denver for the rest of his long life.

In a photo in front of Big Danny's house, my brother Dan and I wear army uniforms and carry rifles. I am 9 and he is 7. At the end of the year, we would be in a station wagon on our way to Washington state. We returned briefly after a stint in Kansas. We left six months later for Florida. Dan never returned to live in Denver. I did but couldn't stay.

You can't go home again, as it turns out.

Message for the Commander, France, 1918

A remembrance for what once was called Armistice Day and now Veteran’s Day.

My paternal grandfather, Raymond Arthur Shay, enlisted in the Iowa National Guard in 1912. He was promoted to sergeant in 1915. In 1916-17, he served under General Pershing’s command at the so-called Punitive Expedition on the Mexican border. In May 1917, a month after the U.S., entered World War I, Raymond Shay was in officers’ training school. He joined the 88^th Division as a second lieutenant and went off to France with the 88^th. He returned home to Iowa in May 1919. Later that year, he was diagnosed with a severe lung condition and sent to Army Hospital 21 (later named Fitzsimons Army Hospital) located in Aurora, then a tiny suburb of Denver.

At the urging of his daughter Patricia, Raymond wrote about his service in the Iowa National Guard that was activated for the Mexican Border War and World War I. He wrote his memories in cursive script on 19 sheets of yellow paper held together by a clip. It’s tough for me to read but readers from future generations will see it as we do hieroglyphics in Egyptian tombs; cursive is no longer taught as matter of course in public schools.

We called Raymond Big Danny. I can find some of the details of his service on ancestry.com resources. The stories are another matter. We listened to his stories as kids but they were so old that they might as well be The Tales of Arabian Nights. I remember a few snatches of his stories. The writing he left behind reminds me of those. How he had to arrest one of his troopers on a train bound for debarkation at a Canadian port. The soldier was a bit drunk and was waving around a loaded pistol, shouting about how he dared the Canadian Mounties to arrest him for his German name. One of Lieutenant Shay's duties was transporting bodies from field hospitals and burying them with honor at the new American cemetery in the Hericourt-Alsace Sector. General Pershing came to inspect the troops based in Gondrecourt-le-Chateau after the Armistice. Big Danny outfitted one of the division’s cavalry mounts with his own French Officers Field Saddle, one he bought himself because it was superior to the U.S. Army’s McClellan Saddle named for a Union general who was sacked by Lincoln and later ran against him in the 1864 presidential election (McClellan lost).  

Old warriors tell old war stories – it’s a tradition. I can appreciate them now since I’m getting old myself – 70 on my next birthday. I’m not an old warrior, just appreciative of their service to the country. I also appreciate the stories and want them to be told forever.

So here’s one remembrance of Lt. Raymond Shay, Headquarters Troop, 88^th Division, U.S. Army. Written in his own hand in Loveland, Colo., sometime in the 1990s.

Setting: AEF front lines, autumn 1918

At Div. Hdgrs I was given a message to deliver to C.O. of 1^st battalion 35^th Inf in front line position. We need motorcycles with side cars for this courier service. I was required to use a regular driver or rider as known then and so I rode the side car. We found Bat. Hdqrs easy enough but it was not exactly as 1 expected. When I asked for the Battalion Commander and said I had a message from Div. Hdqrs, a young 2^nd Lt. said he was. But C.O., I said, I expected a major but would settle for a captain. He said you will settle for a 2^nd Lt as I am C.O. and if I had a message deliver it. When I delivered the message I was still wondering where all the other officers were and asked the Lt. about this. He said well Belfort is only 10 or 15 miles down the road and they are all there living the good life.

The Lt. then asked me the 64-dollar question. He asked if I had ever been in No Man’s Land (that two-block distance between the trenches). I said no as my duty did not take me there. He went on to say one of these days this war would be over and I would be ashamed to go home and say I had never been in No Man’s Land. I said I had not thought of it in that light. I did say it would be better to go home and admit I had not been there than to go into that disputed land and not go home at all. He said I was wrong and he knew how to go out there and it would be safe if I did exactly as he directed. O.K. I said if I don’t go I suppose you will report me to Div. Hdqrs as a poor front line soldier, he said, no, you will get along fine.

He asked if my 45 Colt was loaded, if there was a cartridge in the firing chamber, now pull the hammer back and put on safety catch, hold the pistol in your hand and follow me. He said we would have to proceed with great care thru the communication tunnels as the Germans sometimes sneaked in at night and picked off our men at their convenience. We arrived at the end of this tunnel and were in the Front Line Trench and observation post. The Lt. said we are going out on No Man’s land. He said put your pistol back in the holster and do as I do, follow me, do not make any attempt to go for your pistol unless we are fired upon and that would do no good as we are out of pistol range out here.

We walked around slowly and he pointed to a tree on the German side and said there was a sniper posted there. During all this time, the trench artillery were shelling a small town the rear of the German lines, whatever they were hitting caused a lot of dust to rise.

The Lt. said we have been here long enough so you may return to Div. Hdqrs and tell them that you were in No Man’s Land with the Battalion Commander.

He was a great guy.

Family stories feature twists and turns that don't show up on genealogy sites

Molly Reed Shay was known as "most beautiful" in St. Patrick’s Church, Iowa City, Iowa, 

So says a description printed in tiny letters on a genealogy chart put together by one of my relatives and now in my hands in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in this pandemic year of 2020.

Not sure if St. Patrick’s conducted a beauty pageant but highly unlikely in Iowa’s Mississippi River Valley in the latter part of the 19^th century.  It might have been an observation by a fellow parishioner, possibly a young man with an eye for beauty. It may have been a line spoken at Molly’s funeral in September 1905. Molly died in childbirth on Sept. 18 of that year. Her husband, Michael Francis Shay, might have said it as part of his eulogy if he could have managed to say anything after such a devastating loss.

Molly was not yet 40 and had already birthed five children, two girls and three boys, the eldest being my paternal grandfather, Raymond Arthur Shay. The sixth, Richard, was born the same day his mother died. Raymond later told his grandchildren, me included, that the doctor charged with delivering Richard was drunk. It was a terrible memory for Raymond, who would have been 11 at the time, old enough to be helping out on the Shay farm in what is now Iowa City suburb.

As I wrote this, I thought about what it was like to be 11. My mom gave birth to twins when I was a bit older at 12. I also was the eldest of what would eventually be nine kids. We lived in a drafty old two-story house in Wichita, Kansas. Imagine it was 1905 and we lived on a farm in Wichita’s outskirts and my mom went into labor at home and a drunken doctor came for the delivery and he botched it so that my mother died. Motherless at 12. It would have left a mark that I would feel all of my life.

I can’t say what it did to my grandfather. We called him Big Danny. I hung that nickname on him as a mouthy toddler. Baby Danny was my new brother in 1952 and Grandpa seemed like Big Danny to me. My reasoning is unclear. I was just a little kid with a big imagination.

Molly’s storied beauty passed down to her granddaughters. Muriel, whom I met as a kid growing up in Denver, was homecoming queen at her high school – it says so on the genealogical chart. Muriel’s brother Bobby “took his own life when his mother died in 1934.” Their mother Gertrude (Gertie) died at 33. Molly’s great-granddaughter, Christy, was “homecoming queen at Cherry Creek High” which once was the Denver area’s largest high school and adjacent to its swankiest neighborhood, Cherry Hills. I reported on football and soccer games at its stadium when I covered high school sports for The Denver Post.

Speaking of me, I am mentioned on the chart. Muriel’s other daughter, Jill Scott, was “born 12-19-50, 1 day later than Mike T. Shay. Movie pictures were taken of them when they were babies.” I never saw the film. My mother said that I was a beautiful baby and photogenic but that was my mother speaking.

One more family connection with the line of people spawned by Michael Francis and Molly Shay. Her daughter Marie married Glenn Schafbuch and their son Mickey, born in 1934, went into the Marines after college and later managed television stations in Denver and Portland, Ore. When I decided to move back to Denver in 1978, my father said goodbye and good luck and then suggested that I look up his cousin Mickey and see if he had any leads on jobs in local media. Mickey said he could refer me to KOA noting that they probably had jobs for researchers and reporters. I said no, that newspapers were my trade. He gave me a funny look that said “newspapers are dying, kid – TV is where the action is.” He did send me to talk to an old school chum, the managing editor at the Post, who liked the cut of my jib and brought me on as a high school sports reporter at the paper.

Later, when I was married and had a child, I gave up the newspaper game for the corporate life at Gates Rubber Company where I made the world a better place by telling imaginative tales about automotive and industrial rubber products. My boss’s boss’s boss, Chuck Sonnen, served in the Marines with Mickey. Not sure if he gave me, a Navy ROTC dropout and peacenik, any preferential treatment, but he didn’t fire me. I quit after an illustrious five-year career to pursue the creative writing game. I figured that was where the action was, for me, at least.

I'm not strong on foresight.

Hindsight is my beat.

Part IX: Mudder's World War I diary

December 26 
Happier today than I have been for some time, got a letter from Peany and such a sweet one too, also one from E with a handkerchief in it. Goldie is sick in bed Ward #2, hope she will be well by the 2nd.

December 27 
Met a man from Evac #3, invited me to a dance at #79. Got two more letters from P, he is dear all right, to bed early.

December 28 
Mail today, just a Xmas card. Went to a dance, had a fairly good time.

December 29 
Some of our officers are going back to the States, leave tomorrow, they sure are lucky. Rained all day for a change.

December 30
Another disappointment today. Leah can’t go on leave.

December 31 
Went to the New Year’s Eve dance, had a real good time. Orders came that 42 would be replaced; suppose that means we will all go home. I wonder if I am going to get to go on my leave.

January 1, 1919 
Got my orders to go on leave, thank goodness I am safe then. Off for Toul on the train. Only 2 hours late, got in Toul, stayed all night at the Red Cross, made some fudge to take along.

January 2 
Trains supposed to leave for Paris at 800am but left 1030. Met some officers that came over on the ship with us. Took Miss Saxelby and I to dinner. We arrived at Paris at 600pm. Had the dickens of a time to get a taxi, finally did, went to the Continental and thought rooms had been engaged but they had not, but while standing there, in walked Peany, bless his heart, he made us take his room, he met a colonel he knew so he went in with him. We had a wonderful dinner.

January 3 
Had breakfast in bed, then we started out, we went to different shops, had lunch at the Marlborough tearoom. Met P at 2pm, but in the meantime, met Miss Hines, chatted a while with her. Got on the train for Nice at 6pm, started about 8. I had a seat but poor P only had a small seat until 5am, such a dirty tiresome trip.

January 4 
Landed in Nice at 6pm, cleaned and had dinner, who should I meet, the first thing but LHM Went to bed early that night and such a storm.

January 5 
Took a walk, went to the station to make reservations to leave next Saturday, we finally did. The Mediterranean was quite rough this day; the storm had done a lot of damage.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday 
Went to dances, took long walks, did some shopping. Found the best place to eat breakfast, could get the best waffles. Walked up a very steep hill, could see the Alps which were with snow. The last of the week the Mediterranean was very calm and just as warm as could be. Sure hated to come back to Bazoilles. Saturday Left for Paris, arrived Sunday 10am, went to the Continental. Sure was sick, had dinner, went to bed and got up for supper and then went to bed, got up at 630am.

Monday 
Train left for Chaumont, arrived 315, got in Neuf. At 715, waited there 2 hours for a train to B, dead tired, such a trip. P stayed in Neuf.

Tuesday 
Had the whole day off, went to Neuf, met P, we had lunch, then he came out to the base with me, had tea, he left 5pm. All alone again and such news when I came back. We are attached to Evac 21, all the men of 42 are going home, can you beat it. I am homesick, I want to go home. Got 72 letters today.

Wednesday 
On duty in #17, mumps ward, such a life, sure want to go home.

Thursday 
Made P some fudge today and sent it to him, hope he gets it.

Friday 
Went to the dance, had a real nice time but came home early.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday 
Nothing exciting happen, same old mud hole.

Tuesday January 21 
Had the whole day off, went to Neuf today, bought wool to make a sweater, and took a walk with Steve, no news about going home, expect to be here this time next year.

Wednesday January 22 
On duty most of day

Thursday January 23 
Little excitement today. The nurses who wish to remain in France had to sign up, looks like we are going home. Who should walk into our hospital today, no one but Peany. Was making fudge for Steve and Leah but Peany got most of it, he is being transferred near Dijon. We went to Neuf for dinner, I sure did miss a good dance.

Friday, January 24 
Am real glad I did not go to the dance, an accident, 2 nurses with fractured ribs, suppose I would have been the unfortunate one if I had went to our dance at night.

Saturday January 25 
Not much news but I really do think we are going home, our trunks were marked today.

Sunday January 26 
Al last the news has arrived. We leave Tuesday morning, am so excited. Leah was to have her leave Tuesday, she is disappointed. Lots of mail today.

Monday January 27 
Went to Neuf today, bought a few things to take home and some lunch. Goldie bought a beautiful ring. Made a lot of fudge to take on our trip. The nurses remaining are about 38, gave BH 42 nurses a farewell dinner, the music was great. I had Dr. Wood over from 46. He invited me over to a chicken supper and dance Tuesday night. I am out of luck, but so much nicer to go home.

Tuesday January 28 
Gotten up mighty early, trunks carryalls, and suitcases have gone. 6am train did not come in till late. Went to tea in the afternoon, had some music, got on the train 11pm and did not pull out till 4am, such a mess,. 3rd class compartments, no heat, old hard wood benches, and they tell me we have a three day trip before us.

Wednesday January 29 
Sitting on the sidetrack most of the day, the rate we are going I think we will be about 10 days. I am so tired; all we ate is sardines, bread.

Thursday January 30 
I think an American engine has been put on, we have been speeding, just a little. I sure feel punk.

Tuesday January 31 
We have gone about 2/3 of the way, we probably reach St. Nazaire Sunday, such a life, no water, no heat, no nothing.

Wednesday February 1, 1919 
Arrived at St. Nazaire 2pm, went over to the Red Cross for sandwiches and cocoa and then were carried about 8 miles in trucks to La Baule. A beautiful hotel, but no heat, I had a great bath and a good dinner and to bed.

Sunday February 2 
Took a long walk along the Atlantic beach, had tea in a clean little place and got warm at the Red Cross.

Monday 
Today we got orders to pack, we leave in the morning for Brest, wonder if we will ever sail. Did some shopping today. Gee, I’ll be glad when I get home.

Tuesday 
An all day trip in the train but great deal better than our last trip. Arrived at Base 65 at 11pm, we were put in a large barracks, no sheets, pillowcases or anything.

Wednesday 
Not allowed off the grounds. Had tea at 3pm in the hut

Thursday 
Play cards or knit. That’s all we have to do.

Friday 
No orders yet, have finished my sweater.

Saturday 
Learning to play bridge, rather interesting. Went AWOL to the nearby village, bought the cutest wooden shoes.

Sunday 
Went to church, nothing exciting. Is happening. Rumors but no real news.

Monday 
Moved to another barracks today, much more comfortable.

Tuesday 
Took a walk in the village today.

Wednesday 
Went across the river in a rowboat, real nice time. Had a dandy minstrel show here at night.

Thursday, Friday 
Played bridge mostly all day.

Sailing………

Meanwhile, back in the States. This information is from research by Dr. Marian Moser Jones of the University of Maryland:

On March 10, 1919, Green arrived back in New York with many other nurses from her unit.

She returned to Baltimore, greeted by hundreds, on March 16, 1919.  

She was discharged from Army Nurse Corps on April 9, 1919 (from Service Record).

On April 10, 1919, she gave a talk to a Women's club in Irvington, Maryland, about her experiences "Over There."

1920, June 4 -- the Army Reorganization Act authorized relative rank for nurses. Prior to this point, nurses did not have rank and were not recognized as officers. Following the passage of this law, they were given officers' ranks, from 2nd Lieutenant through Major. They were not, however, given commissions or base pay equal to that of other officers of the same grade. Such equal treatment would have to wait until 1947. (Mary Sarnecky, The History of the US Army Nurse Corps).

Green was re-inducted into Army Nurse Corps as a 2nd Lieutenant only 8 days after the passage of this law, on June 12, 1920. She served at General Hospital No. 21, in Denver, Colorado, (renamed Fitzsimons General Hospital July 1, 1920) until January 24, 1922 (Shipley,The Officers and Nurses of Evacuation Hospital No. 8) As a postwar nurse officer, she belonged to a small elite: By June 30, 1921 there were only 851 nurses, including 1 major, 4 captains, 74 first lieutenants, and 772 second lieutenants (Office of Military History, US Army)

Green Shay's gravestone indicates that she was a first lieutenant. She might have been promoted some time between 1920 and 1922. Even though Shipley's book lists her as a 2nd Lieutenant, he readily admitted in the preface that it included numerous errors (her maiden name was also misspelled).

If she was promoted to First Lieutenant, as her gravestone indicates, she was among the top 100 women serving in the US Army during the postwar period. Additional material may be available at the Army Nurse Corps historical collection in Ft. Sam Houston, Texas, which I plan to visit for my research. 

As for her personal life.... 

She met Raymond Shay, also a veteran, a cavalry officer who served in the A.E.F. with the Iowa National Guard, who was recovering from tuberculosis at Fitzsimons. 

They married on June 28, 1922.  They had two children, Thomas (our father) and Patricia. Florence died August 17, 1980, at the age of 88. She and Raymond are buried together at Fort Logan National Military Cemetery in Denver. 

To her nine grandchildren, Florence Green Shay was known as "Mudder." And that's how we remember her.

Raymond Shay, Cavalry officer with the Iowa National Guard in the A.E.F. His grandchildren called him "Big Danny."

Florence Green's Foreign Service Certificate.

From the History Colorado Center web site: One of the 48 original 1918 buildings at the Fitzsimons Army Medical Center in Aurora, Colo., the Red Cross Building offered patient entertainment, which was especially meaningful for long-term patients usually suffering from tuberculosis. During WWI and WWII, the building put on vaudeville shows, movies, and concerts. Today, it is significant for its role in nursing soldiers, as well as for its architectural design as a standard cross-plan military building with stucco walls and shaped parapets. FMI: http://www.historycoloradocenter.org

Fort Logan National Military Cemetery in Denver after a snowfall. FMI: http://www.cem.va.gov/cems/nchp/ftlogan.asp

Part I: Mudder's World War I diary

Here’s a puzzler that could be on the Travel Channel’s “Mysteries at the Museum:”

The object, almost 100 years old, measures four inches by seven inches. It has a black cover that’s falling apart and is held together by a strip of duct tape. Its inside pages are turning brown and are filled with tiny, hard-to-read handwriting.

What is it? Answer: Mudder’s diary.

The diary belonged to our paternal grandmother, Florence Green Shay. She’s called “Mudder” because her eldest grandchild, me, couldn’t pronounce Grandmother or Grandma and shortened it to Mudder. The name stuck. She looked more like a Florence than a Mudder. She was a bespectacled bridge-playing Denver matron when we grandkids got to know her as we grew up in the 1950s and 1960s. She screeched for joy and hugged us soundly when we came to visit, especially after we moved away from Denver in 1960.

A Baltimore native, she was a devoted baseball fan who loved her hometown Orioles. She took my brother and me to Denver Bears games even though they were a farm team for the Orioles arch-nemesis, the New York Yankees. When she died in 1980, she had been married to her husband Raymond for almost 60 years.

The two shared a common bond. They were both World War I veterans when they met at Fitzsimons Army Hospital in Aurora, Colo., in 1921. She was an officer in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps. He had mustered out as a cavalry officer in the Iowa National Guard. They are buried together in Fort Logan National Cemetery in southwest Denver. We can’t hear any more stories in person from our grandparents. But Mudder’s diary survives, and it tells tales. We knew little about the diary. Mudder occasionally mentioned it when she was alive. It wasn’t until my sister Eileen Shay Casey in Winter Park, Fla., got her hands on it after our father died that I had a chance to read it. Eileen, also a trained nurse but now working for a private foundation, transcribed the diary. No small task, as our grandmother’s handwriting is cramped and sometimes difficult to read. And – 96 years after the final entry – these inked memories are fading. This transcript gives us all a peek into the life of one of our ancestors cast into a far-off war.

I’ll post excerpts (along with photos) every few days on this blog. I appreciate any comments, although I’ll only print those that have some bearing on the subject at hand. At the end, those interested will be able to order a print transcript from blog2print.com – more about that later.

My sister and I would like to thank Dr. Marian Moser Jones, assistant professor of family science at the University of Maryland School of Public Health, who provided some of the background information about Florence’s experiences, which I will intersperse among the diary excerpts. She is a passionate researcher who has written extensively on the subject of World War I nurses. Thank you, Dr. Jones.

The following is the transcript of the diary Florence Green Shay kept while in the U.S., England and France, 1918-1919:

July 12, 1918, Hotel Bristol 
We were all very much pleased when Miss Sarin told us today that we would leave the hotel the following day. Of course we felt a little blue to think we were going so far from home. Goldie and I proceeded to a first class restaurant and had a last good meal. We also thought of a half dozen things we wanted. We went to Keith’s at night but did not enjoy it very much, shows were becoming quite boring.  

July 13, Saturday
I was quite excited waiting for the anxious moment. Before going on ship, I decided I must have a certain record for the Victrola, Baby’s Prayer at Twilight.  Did some tall rushing to get it too. The staterooms were wonderful. May Callaway, Goldie and I am occupying #30.  We all went to bed early the first night. Everything was strange, but only the first day.

July 14, Sunday
Before sailing, we had our first boat drill. Seemed very funny to carry life preserver`s around every place we went, but towards the last we felt lost without them. Sunday was not a very exciting day. The hands played some music but not popular songs. We sailed on the Balticand had twelve other ships in the convoy. Destroyers and aero planes were with us for a day and a half. Felt funny when they left.

July 15, Monday
We started to get acquainted this day; I think there were about 200 officers on board and 100 nurses. We had a good time. Danced from five to seven, the jazz played for us, some music too. July 16, Tuesday The ship seemed to rock more this day. I did not tarry in the dining room long. Seasick, I should say not, I would never be guilty.

July 17, Wednesday
Met some dandy people, everybody seemed so nice. Would buy candy, but to think I refused it from Sunday until today and only one piece. They needn’t think I am going to get seasick. July 18, Thursday We are still having our boat drill every day or I should say twice a day. So often we are called at a most inopportune time, but no difference, get your life jacket on, and run. I am eating a little more candy today.

July 19, Friday
Rather foggy and raining. The sun is also rather rough but did not affect me any. We had our dance just the same, lots of fun too. The 62^nd Coast Artillery gave a dandy entertainment, was mighty good, and closed the evening by playing the Marseillaise, God Save the King, and The Star Spangled Banner.

July 20, Saturday
Nothing special happened. We had the Victrola out in the morning, danced a few dances. This is my bath night, and to think it is Saturday, so much the nicer.  The bath steward will be in, in a moment, he does want us to keep clean.

July 21, Sunday
Went to church in the afternoon, quite different then the services I usually go to. After dinner we all went back in the 2^nd class dining room where the troops were and helped them sing some songs. After this, I met a very interesting man, Major Gay - only talked to him a few minutes. Heard a few rumors about submarines, but have not worried about them much.

July 22, Monday
Met the major this morning. His girl went back on him, so I promised to stick. He nicknamed me “Pinky” an awfully nice man. We had a dance and believe me, the major is some dancer.

July 23, Tuesday
Seeing a good deal of the major. Had a big scare today. They say there is a nest of submarines in our course, but our convoy has changed its route now. Believe me, it is sure cold too, only 700 miles from Iceland.

July 24, Wednesday
Rather thrilling to see about twelve destroyers around us on this day, we feel so safe now. Our cruiser left us last night and oh how lonely we did feel.

July 25, Thursday
This is the most dangerous of days, as we are wearing our life preservers all the time now. We are in the real war zone now, but not too much danger to keep from dancing. I forgot to say we had to be in our staterooms every night at 900pm, lights out at 10pm.  The Red Cross furnished us with rubber suits the funniest looking things; they are supposed to keep us up in water for three days. I will try to have mine handy tonight with a little chocolate handy. We have been told it would be better to sleep in part of clothes.

July 26, Friday
Well we are safe and sound; I have not seen a submarine yet. To think we are looking at land once more. It looks wonderful! Liverpool looks good to me. We are to anchor out tonight, the lights will be all lighted and a great celebration, a big dance. Peany, the major, asked his old girl for a dance, it made me jealous but him very foolish. We are allowed to stay out until 11pm. To think it is our last night on the ship, I feel real sad.

Editor’s Note: Listen to Henry Burr’s 1918 rendition of “A Baby’s Prayer at Twilight (for her daddy over there)” at https://youtu.be/nfuZ4rT1j88

May 11, 1915: Florence Green (far left, second row) graduated from Maryland General Hospital Training School for Nurses. MGH Training School operated as a nursing school from 1891 until 1987, when it closed. Maryland General Hospital now operates under the name University of Maryland Medical Center Midtown Campus. 

Maryland General Hospital Training School for Nurses in Baltimore.

The Baltic, the ship that took Mudder's Unit to Europe.

Sioux City Journal: It takes a community to stop bullying

Sioux City (IA) Journal devotes Sunday front page to anti-bullying campaign. Neat graphic, gutsy move. A new resource is available locally for parents whose children have been the target of bullying in the Laramie County No. 1 School District. Contact UPLIFT for its bullying ombudsman program at 307-778-8686 or 1-888-875-4383.  

Jim Coppoc leads poetry workshop at Cheyenne library

Performance poet and musician Jim Coppoc of Ames, Iowa, leads a writing workshop on Sunday at the Laramie County Public Library in Cheyenne. Jim is in town to judge the Wyoming Poetry Out Loud competition Monday, 7 p.m., at the Atlas Theatre. 

James Coppoc brings his performance poetry to Cheyenne during Poetry Out Loud competition

The 2012 Wyoming Poetry Out Loud state competition will take place March 5-6 in Cheyenne. Sixteen student competitors and their teachers are expected, the largest slate for the Wyoming competition since its inception in 2006. Out-of-state guest judge this year is James Coppoc.

Coppoc, a poet, spoken-word artist and musician from Ames, Iowa, teaches English and American Studies at Iowa State University and creative writing in the low residency M.F.A. program at Chatham University in Pittsburgh. Balancing poetry, pedagogy, play writing, music and performance in his varied career, Coppoc’s publications include Manhattan Beatitude, 1997 (One Small Bird Press, 2010), Reliquary (Fractal Edge Press, 2010), and Blood, Sex & Prayer (Fractal Edge Press, 2005). Coppoc received four Pushcart Prize nominations in 2011. 

Coppoc will give a public workshop on Sunday, March 4, from 2-4 p.m. at the Laramie County Library, focusing on bringing out the musicality in poems. Anyone interested in writing and performing poetry is welcomed to attend.

The Poetry Out Loud competition begins at 7 p.m. at the Historic Atlas Theater in downtown Cheyenne. Joining Coppoc as judges are Pat Frolander, Wyoming Poet laureate from Crook County, and writer and arts educator Diane Panozzo from Tie Siding, Wyo. It’s free and open to the public. Come out and see some great poetry recitation by some talented high schoolers from around the state.

Video: James Coppoc will be the guest poet for Wyoming's Poetry Out Loud state competition March 4-6 in Cheyenne. In the spirit of POL, here he's performing Miguel Pinero's "Lower East Side Poem." 

Planet Jackson Hole: "Wyoming picker causes raucous caucus" in Iowa

Ten Sleep musician Jalan Crossland busted by police during protests against Republican candidates during Iowa caucus. Go to Wyoming picker causes raucous caucus. I reported this first on Dec. 31. Go to http://hummingbirdminds.blogspot.com/2011/12/who-is-mystery-man-from-ten-sleep.html

Who is the mystery man from Ten Sleep arrested at Occupy the (Iowa) Caucuses?

Rachel Maddow muses in this MSNBC clip about the Occupy the (Iowa) Caucuses protester arrested at Mitt Romney HQ and whose hometown is listed as Ten Sleep, Wyoming. Since musicians were featured at the occupation, and one of them looked suspiciously like Jalan "This Banjo Kills Facists" Crossland of Ten Sleep, we think that this mystery man is indeed the man who gave us "Don't Taze Me, Bro'" What say you, dear readers?

River City's got trouble with a capital "T" and that stands for Tea Party

A billboard ordered and paid for by the North Iowa Tea Party shows President Obama, Adolf Hitler, left, and Vladimir Lenin, on South Federal Avenue in Mason City, Iowa. Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2010/07/13/iowa-tea-party-billboard-compares-obama-hitler/#ixzz1VFmr5OK0 (even Fox thinks this is a bit much). Meredith "The Music Man" Wilson would be proud of his hometown of "River City." We got trouble, right here in River City, trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for "Tea Party." (The billboard was removed a month ago -- I was a bit late on this one but it deserves long life on the interwebs.)

The Irish diaspora brought us The Great Shame and -- for many -- much better lives

Looking for some especially depressing books to read during St. Patrick's Day week, I chose The Great Shame, and the triumph of the Irish in the English-speaking world by Thomas Keneally. Keneally is an Australian of Irish descent who wrote such great books as Schindler's List, The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith and To Asmara. I've met Keneally several times and he looks a bit like a leprechaun (see book jacket). A leprechaun who can write!

It's an old story. Irish peasant gets sideways with his landlord, goes to jail and is convicted, and eventually is deported to Australia. Hugh Larkin was his ancestor who was shipped away in chains and, strangely enough, into a better life. He missed the Great Potato Famine, for one thing. There were jailers and landlords in Australia but not nearly so many. A man with grit and wit could make it there.

That's what so many Irish found during the diaspora. If they survived.

Thomas O'Shea, who somewhere along the line changed his surname to Shay, was born in County Clare, Ireland, on Dec. 20, 1815. He died in Clear Creek Township in Johnson County, Iowa, on May 14, 1879. According to his very precise gravestone at St. Joseph's Cemetery in Iowa City, he was "63 years, 4 mos, and 24 days." Not sure about the hours and minutes.

His wife was Ann (Anna, Annie) Agnes Burns, born somewhere in Ireland about 1825. My daughter Annie bears her name. My daughter was born on March 9, 1993, in Cheyenne in County Laramie, USA. Wonder how much of the Irish Annie is in our Annie? She's stubborn as hell and beautiful and smart. I wonder if she would have made it to the U.S. intact from famine-ravaged Ireland. I think so.

Annie and Thomas emigrated around 1850. It could have been earlier. But the cause is clear -- threat of starvation. The 1850 New York census shows Thomas Shay, 30, and Annie Shay, 23, living with their three children in Brockport in Monroe County, just a bit west of Rochester. The family left for Iowa about 1859, just in time to avoid most of the Civil War.

The 1870 federal census records show that Thomas Shay owned real estate worth $4,000 in Clear Creek Township, Iowa. It was 96 acres. He and Annie, 43, now had eight children. The youngest was Michael, 6. The family owned three horses, four mules, four milk cows, four "other cattle," and 18 swine. He and his family farmed wheat, corn, oats and (of course) "Irish potatoes." They harvested 15 tons of hay and produced 300 pounds of butter and 30 gallons of molasses.

Beats the hell out of eating weeds or grass, the only crops growing in the Irish countryside. Not an easy journey across the ocean and across half of the country. But, in the end, Thomas probably thought it was worth it.

Ann Burns Shay was buried next to her husband in 1909. By then, her youngest son Michael's first-born son Raymond was 16. Raymond's son Thomas was born in 1923 and, after he married Anna Marie Shay in February, 1950, I was born 10 months later.

There are many family stories mixed in with the data. And so many relatives named Michael and Patrick and Molly. Show a little imagination people! Our names are traded like baseball cards. My father was named after his great-grandfather Thomas from Ireland and his uncle Thomas, who died in 1918 from the Spanish flu. He was in the Iowa National Guard at the time with his older brother Ray. They were in France with the AEF. More Johnson County boys died of the flu than died in battle during World War I.

My middle name is Thomas. I have a younger brother Thomas. We call him Tom or Tommy. I have a nephew Thomas who is trying to get into medical school. My sister Molly is his mother.

We've done pretty well here in the States. My parents never traveled to Ireland to look up relatives. Neither did I. Maybe we're beyond that. The Republic of Ireland, until recently, was known as the Celtic Tiger and some Americans of Irish descent traveled back to The Old Sod to work. They may be back soon.

Happy St. Patrick's Day on Thursday.

I'll raise a pint to the dear departed -- here's to you, Pat! -- the living, and all those Michaels and Annies and Patricks and Mollys yet to come.

Iowa Gov rounds up support for Obama

Iowa Governor Chet Culver, a Democrat, had some nice things to say about Barack Obama when he visited Cheyenne today.

For example, Obama will make the strongest Democratic Party candidate and president. "He can go the distance," Culver said. "Not only can he beat Hillary, he can beat John McCain."

Culver cited a poll that appeared in last Sunday's Des Moines Register which showed that Obama would beat McCain 53-36 percent, but that McCain would beat Hillary Clinton 49-40 percent.

In red-state Kansas, a recent poll showed that Hillary Clinton would lose to John McCain by 34 percentage points. Obama, on the other hand, would lose by only four points. That latter percentage is within the range that can be made up before the November election.

Kansas now has a Democrat as governor. So a shift toward Obama is not out of the question.

Gov. Culver declared for Obama after meeting and talking to all the Dem candidates during the months leading up to the Iowa caucuses. He's urged other Democratic governors (there's 28 of them) to do the same. When asked how we Wyomingites could get our own Governor Freudenthal on the Obama bandwagon, Culver said, "I'm working on him."

Gov. Freudenthal is one of four Dem governors along the Rocky Mountain Front who haven't yet endorsed a presidential candidate. Others are Ritter in Colorado, Schweitzer in Montana, and Richardson in New Mexico (remember him?).

In the West, Dems play it close to the vest when it comes to politics. We know that Clinton superdelegates have been asked to keep it quiet. Maybe that's why we haven't heard an endorsement from our superdelegate governor.

Gov. Culver didn't whip us into an Obama frenzy, but he did get us cranked to go out and knock on doors. After Obama field coordinator Patrick Lane gave us some detailed instructions, we grabbed clipboards and marched to victory.

Here was our team: Sara B, fellow writer, activist and new mom; G, an African-American state highway patrolman who, until last week, was a registered Republican; and a Baby Boomer lawyer, his Mexican-born wife (to translate when we ran into Spanish-speaking households) and their teen son. We spread out over a Southside neighborhood and knocked on as many doors of registered Dems as we could in two hours.

I didn't find any strong Obama supporters. A middle-aged woman who held a yapping dog while we talked said she was undecided but could be persuaded. Health care was a big issue for her, since she didn't have any. She was planning to go to the March 8 caucus. We had a nice talk about the candidates but, in the end, she was still on the fence.

It was a warm day with little wind. One man (not on our convassing list) was outside watering his front lawn. We chatted for a bit but he never asked about my "Wyoming for Obama" T-shirt. I moved on. I encountered one strong Hillary supporter whose husband (not at home) was undecided. One middle-aged Hispanic man with four big-tired pickups in his driveway would only say that his wife was the registered Democrat and he would give her the info.

When I turned in my canvassing lists, Sara told the story of a man she and G had talked to. When they walked up, he was under the hood of his classic Caddie. He was stand-offish at first, Sara said, until G started talking to him about cars. As they talked, the gearhead admitted his disdain for the Bush regime and strong support for Obama. He would be at the caucus. Score one for our side.

More tomorrow....

Photo: Iowa Gov. Chet Culver talks to Dems assembled at Obama HQ in Cheyenne for a day of canvassing. At right is Wyoming Obama campaign director Gabe Cohen; at left is field director Patrick Lane. Photo by Deb Fischer.

Local Democrats digest Iowa results

Local Democrats held an informal "Iowa Caucus Party" last Thursday at C.B. & Potts in Cheyenne. I was late to the party, so I skipped the ribs and dove into a flagon of Buttface Amber Ale. We watched two sets of results on two TVs. The good TV showed FOX with its Republican noisemakers such as William Kristol. The other TV, which was as old as Dick Clark, carried MSNBC with Chris Matthews and Keith Olbermann. I made the wrong choice and sat facing FOX. I quickly switched seats and engaged in a lively conversation about the Iowa results. Most of the 20-or-so Dems in attendance seemed pleased that Barack Obama took the convincing win. In the fall of ought-seven, Obama had finished first in the Laramie County Democrats straw poll. I was happy to see that John Edwards made a convincing number-two showing, although he finished neck-and-neck with Hillary Clinton.

I was distressed that Kucinich didn't even place. Predictable but still distressing. Kucinich has the best policies of any of the Democratic Party candidates. His stands against the Iraq War and in support of the U.S. Constitution have pushed him to the fringe. His own party has been complicit in this, as you'll notice that Kucinich was nowhere to be seen in the New Hampshire debate. Kucinich is a good man, a brave man. He'd be a radical alternative to what we have now. That's not saying much, I know.

Who attended the caucus party? Local party officers. Union members. Gubment workers such as myself. An Air Force veteran who now flies for United Airlines. Several candidates for public office in ought-eight. A Boston Red Sox fan. A poet. A Vietnam veteran. A young rabble-rouser. A Colorado refugee. A rancher. An historian.

All Americans. People trying to take back their country.

You too can get involved. The next meeting of the Laramie County Democrats will be on Tuesday, Jan. 29, 7 p.m., at the Historic Plains Hotel in downtown Cheyenne. Our county convention will be March 8 and the state convention will be Memorial Day weekend in Jackson. Get statewide news on Bill Luckett's blog at the Wyoming Democratic Party site.

Dems host "Caucus Party" Jan. 3

Nicole Novotny, communications director for the Laramie County Democrats, sent this reminder:

On January 3, 2008, the Laramie County Democratic Party will host a "Caucus Party" at CB & Potts on Dell Range Blvd. in Cheyenne from 6-10 p.m. Please drop by and see which presidential candidates are pulling ahead at this point in 2008! See you there!

FMI: Nicole Novotny, 307-514-4685

Who'll win in Iowa? Today's polls show front-runners in both parties ranked neck-and-neck. Who would you caucus for in Iowa if you could?

Middle East corn crisis boosts E85 prices

I had to blink back my disbelief when I ethanoled-up yesterday morning at Cheyenne's one-and-only biofuels station. The price per gallon for E85 was $2.50. Just last week it was at $1.99. I pumped $15 worth instead of my usual weekly ration of $20. I wondered about the reasons for the 51-cent jump. The gas pumps nearby listed regular unleaded at $2.56 per gallon. I guess ethanol has to keep up with the petroleum Joneses. Gas goes up, ethanol follows.

When I went inside to pay the cashier, I asked him about the price increase. "I tell people it's because of the corn crisis in the Middle East," he said.

I chuckled. This was as good an answer as any -- and clever for so early in the morning. Crisis is as good a term as any. Tuesday's New York Times said that oil prices had surged to $63 per barrel since the new Iranian hostage crisis.

Therein lies the problem. It's one crisis after another in the Middle East. It's a tough neighborhood. So why not get our fuel from a quiter neighborhood? Iowa, for instance.

As we waited for my credit card purchase to be approved, I asked the cashier if the boost in ethanol prices was due to shipping costs. "The price of corn is going up -- I know that," he said.

True, but if trucks delivering ethanol from Nebraska and Iowa are buring petroeum fuels, and those prices are going up, then it's logical to assume all prices will go up. The ethanol-brewing plants have to get their power somewhere. Corn costs more to grow and harvest. Next thing you know, those freakin' Iowa farmers will be holding us hostage to their selfish needs. We'll have to send in the Wyoming National Guard to seize the corn crop from farmers to assure a steady supply. Next thing you know, Death to Wyoming militia will be driving their F-250s into National Guard convoys and blowing themselves up. The respective state legislatures will declare war. Then Congress gets involved. And our brave boys and girls will be fighting house-to-house in Des Moines indefinitely.

It's just one mess after another.