“Family Archaeologist” explores a century of family letters, diaries, and artifacts, and how they illuminate history and our shared humanity. To get an overview of the blog, click: “Welcome to Family Archaeologist”
LATEST BLOG POSTS
A Minneapolis police officer keeps his knee on the neck of a non-resisting Black man for NINE minutes, killing him.
Reading is essential during the COVID-19 "stay home" orders. "Redlined's" 2nd birthday is Friday. Share this page-turner with friends and teens who want a story for pleasure AND learning. Redlining's legacy will stay with us after the pandemic has passed. Read on.
Hi wonderful followers. I'm a true believer that art in the time of disaster is the most soothing comfort of all. We see it popping up everywhere, Yo-Yo Ma playing Dvorak, Italian tenor, Maurizio Marchini serenading from his balcony in Florence, and more. Here's a link to what I think will get you snapping your fingers, jumping up to dance [...]
On Martin Luther King Day, let's celebrate his legacy by looking back at what he was fighting for and against. I make suggestions for a few books that helped me to gain a clearer perspective on the history of Black Americans.
A tribute to my Dad, Fred, who died thirty years ago today.
30 years ago today, my Dad died. Please read this tribute to his life and death. If you didn't know him, you'll get a short overview - and lots of vintage photos. Note: if you received an unworkable link earlier, so sorry. The program got wonky!
On Veterans Day, I always think of my beautiful, young, handsome Uncle Frank Ebner, whom I never met in person, yet I feel I know intimately. Why? Because I have nearly 300 letters written to and from him from January 1943 to the end of September 1945. Then the letters stopped coming home.
Twenty-five years ago today, August 12, 1994, Mom was lying in a hospital bed in the room we call "the sunroom" in our home because it has eight windows, most facing east and a couple on the south and a window and glass door on the north side, which looks out onto my garden. I wanted Mom to be able [...]