Wordless Wednesday - Harvey's Lake

My mom, her siblings, parents and aunts would go up to Harvey's Lake from Hazleton, Pennsylvania in the summer.  I know they all have very found memories of their time spent at Harvey's Lake.  This is a picture I took from one of the docks in the summer of 2010.

My Second Child and Departure from the Army, Part 2

Watch out!  8 pounds, 6 ounces of screaming, naked baby!

So on Sunday I began my story about the circumstances surrounding our decision and timing for having our second child.  Now it's time to finish that story and while it may have started out a bit shaky, it ended with the birth of my beautiful, second son.

Finding out about my pregnancy wasn't as easy as taking a simple pregnancy test.  I took an at-home test and there was one pink line and one very faint pink line.  I took another and got the same result. OK, well the instructions said that if any line shows up no matter how faint, you're pregnant.  So off to the Troop Medical Clinic for a confirmation.

So the tech at the clinic had me pee in a cup.  I saw her dip a stick in (the same as I had just used...or it looked a lot like it) and then we waited.  "You're not pregnant, Drill Sergeant."  My response, "But there are 2 lines."  She tried to tell me that the other line was too faint and that I was not pregnant.  I began second guessing myself.  I told her I wanted another test.  She said that she would have another tech test the sample and that they would call me later.

That afternoon, I was driving back from Fort Ord with my son in the car (heaven only knows why I was out at Fort Ord, because for the life of me I can't remember why) and I realized that I hadn't heard back from the Clinic.  I gave them a call and got an answer, "I'm sorry, but you aren't pregnant."  My son was four years old and he knew that mommy and daddy were going to try to have another baby.  I was in tears by this point and was trying not to cry, when he asked what the phone call was for and why mommy was upset.  I told him that there was no baby in my belly yet and he just started crying.  I lost it then as he kept asking, "Where's my little sister?!?!"

So the next morning I woke up and took another pregnancy test (yes I had multiple because you never can be too sure!)...and then another.  Both said I was pregnant.  I went back down to the Clinic and told them, "OK, I took 2 tests yesterday that said I was pregnant and then you guys did 2 and said I wasn't. I took 2 more this morning and they say I am.  Figure this out!"  The response was a perfectly sound medical conclusion "OK, Drill Sergeant, if you took 4 tests and they said you're pregnant, then you are.  Let's get you a profile and a prescription for prenatal vitamins."  Seriously?  You're just going to take my word for it?  OK...whatever....

Of course, I didn't doubt my pregnancy.  I was late and was never late, so the question really was, what to do now?  The Army Ball was coming up in a few days.  It was June.  The cadre had all chipped in to rent a stretch Hummer to go to the ball.  It was going to be an awesome night and we were all arriving in style!  I hadn't turned in my profile yet, and I hadn't told my cadre I was pregnant yet.  I had only told my husband by presenting him with a photo card that said, "The Cayemberg Family is about to get a little bigger"...or something like that...and we told our families.  I told the cadre that at the Army Ball I would drink a toast with them and if I drank the wine, I wasn't pregnant.  If I drank the non-alcoholic cider, then I was pregnant.  They all sat around as the first toast of the evening came and looked at me. I picked up both glasses and then drank the non-alcoholic one. There was much congratulating going on after that although somewhat quietly, because we weren't telling the trainees...

My husband and I at that last Army Ball

Now the trainees obviously knew that something was up.  They saw our table briefly get all loud and excited, but we weren't telling why. You may ask yourself why I would keep something like that a secret, well, can you imagine having a pregnant, hormonal Drill Sergeant?  I mean Drill Sergeants aren't exactly cuddly people to begin with, but a pregnant one?  Not to mention I had no desire to have trainees trying to baby me...or worse  saying that I was only yelling because I was pregnant. That would probably have sent me right over the edge.

I have to admit that I do feel somewhat bad for the Soldiers in Bravo Company for the remainder of my time.  I tried not to be hormonal. I really did, but some things would just set me off and I would just smoke the Soldier(s) that were responsible.  All within my boundaries, but still.

I ended up serving for almost my entire first trimester.  The problems I encountered were mildly amusing, but challenging none-the-less.  Trying to hide my morning-noon-and-night sickness was impossible.  When the bathroom is right next to where the Soldiers on duty are they can hear the barfing.  They never said anything except, "Are you OK, Drill Sergeant?"  A simple "My stomach is bothering me" ended the question, although I'm sure they knew.

My Battalion Commander was another mild problem.  You see brainiac said that I needed to put on a maternity uniform immediately.  I know I mentioned in my last post  that this guy hated Drill Sergeants and I seriously think he thought that a Drill Sergeant in maternities would just look hysterical...or that it would require me to leave early.  Either way, I wasn't doing it.  He may have been my Battalion Commander, but what he couldn't do was make me wear a uniform that didn't fit.  As far as I was concerned he wasn't removing me unless my profile got in the way (or my belly).  My unit was too short-handed for me to just stop working because the Battalion Commander whimsically wanted it so...and I was fit to keep up my duties.

I would lead the PT for the Soldiers on profile.  Someone had to so it didn't really look odd, and from time to time I would actually still run with my company and call cadence.  Granted, the guys would only let me do it at the end of PT when we were running downhill.  I gotta love how they took care of me!

Shortly before I took my hat off, I held a meeting with my platoon and told them what I know some had started to figure out...that I was pregnant...and what they hadn't figured out...that I was leaving the military. I explained it to them like they were family, because when you're a Drill Sergeant they are like your kids...and you're the dysfunctional parent that yells a lot.  I have no problem admitting that when I told them I was leaving the military that I teared up.  And I told them something that doesn't get said often enough.  Family has to come first.

By the time I took my hat off in August of 2005 I was wearing my BDUs with all the buttons on the bottoms undone, but my top (luckily) covered it.  A week or so later when I showed up in civilian clothes for my End of Tour Award I was looking as pregnant as can be.  I think that was a shock to the Soldiers!

Daddy with his 2 boys

So my husband, son and I left Monterey, California to drive out to what would be our new home in Clarksville, Tennessee...just over the Kentucky border.  On to Fort Campbell!  On the way, we stopped off to see my cousin get married and to say hello to some friends in Arizona.  Hurricane Katrina had just hit before our trip and as we drove through Texas we detoured and cancelled a planned stop in San Antonio because Hurricane Rita was on the way.  We arrived in Clarksville with the rain, and rain, and rain.

We found a home.  A great home, very quickly. And I found my way to a midwife on post as soon as TRICARE red-tape would allow.  At first, I couldn't get in to see anyone anytime soon, so that meant that my husband and I spent a little time with the Officer in Charge of the OB/GYN floor.  She was a sweet woman and she took care of us.  However, when I got in for some lab work the ladies there started screaming at me that I needed to have my ultrasound NOW.  What?  I was 22 weeks.  That's about right...right?  Don't yell at me because the Army moved us during baby-ultrasound time.  My hubby had to make some quick plans to get in on this ultrasound, but we managed to get it done with all of us there, my son included.

The tech told us the news.  A healthy baby boy!  We were delighted.  The sex didn't matter to us.  The healthy part was the only thing that ever did.  Benjamin, however, was still demanding to know where his little sister was.  Luckily, at the age of 11 he stopped demanding a little sister.

I went to a midwife even though I knew she wouldn't be delivering my baby.  I couldn't get in with any of the other doctors that could perform my c-section and I liked midwives anyway.  She was great.  The doctor that was assigned to deliver my child, however, I didn't like.  I'm not sure why either.  Just a feeling.

We picked February 12th for the c-section.  I didn't want to have a baby on Valentine's Day.  I didn't want Valentine's Day over-shadowing his day.  My mom, sister, and step-dad came down to take care of Ben while my hubby and I went in for Daniel's birth.  It was a blessing to have them there for the event and to take care of us (I won't talk about how you dumped cayenne pepper into a pot of boiling water, mom, and made the whole house cough like we'd been hit with pepper spray!  [HeeHee] I guess I just did! Love you, mom!)

Again with the name problems though.  Daniel was supposed to be a Nicholas.  I still like the name Nicholas, but there's no fighting pregnant lady hormones!  My husband and I tried out several different names and none of them felt right.  A few days before the birth we decided on Daniel.  I had a friend in elementary school named Daniel and always thought it was a nice name.  My husband told his family that we had decided on Daniel, but that we'd wait until we met him to make it official.  His middle name, however, would be Edward.  After my grandfather, my uncle, my great grandfather, my great great grandfather, my....well, you get the idea.  Lots of Edwards in this Irish family.

I love this picture.  Ben staring at his day-old baby brother.

This time my husband and I got to see our child be born.  I had told the doctor about the horrible epidural-didn't-work event with my first son and he said that I would have a spinal block.  Needle in the spine is all the same to me, I just wanted to be awake!  And in no-time, once the cesarean started, Daniel was out...and the doctor almost dropped him on the floor.  Did I mention that I didn't like this guy? Although there were many other reasons!

I saw him for a brief moment and they took him to the warmer for his vitals and to clean him up.  After my c-section was finished it was to recovery where my husband got to give him his first bath and mommy and baby could start bonding.

I'd like to say the breastfeeding went smoothly the second time around, but it didn't.  I'll save the gory details (for now), but my older sister came to my rescue there!  She came down to help out about 2 weeks after Daniel was born and drug my butt into the lactation consultant's office and then forced her to help (and this lady needed forcing!).

It was nice to be able to actually witness the birth.  Even if it wasn't a normal, traditional childbirth, it was us welcoming our second, beautiful, sweet baby boy into our lives.  Lots of diapers, crying, nursing and sleepless nights, but it was all worth it, and this time there was no going back to the Army and chucking my child in daycare.  I got to actually do all those mommy things that I had dreamt about when I was a little girl.  I missed work, but the trade-off was more than worth it, and we were blessed to be able to have the choice and be able to afford to have me stay home to care for our children.

My mom getting to hold her newest grandson!

A little genealogical twist to Daniel's birth...even though Fort Campbell is in Kentucky most nonmilitary people don't know that it's actually on the border of Kentucky and Tennessee, and when I say on the border, I mean part of it is in one state and part in another.  It's listed as being in Kentucky, because the headquarters building is in Kentucky, however, the military hospital on post is in Tennessee which means that Daniel has a Tennessee birth certificate! Something sure to confuse descendants researching us...born at Blanchfield Army Medical Center in Fort Campbell, Tennessee!  And another twist...Blanchfield is a family name.  That made having him there even more special!

Happy Birthday, Daniel.  A little later than I meant to post this, but perhaps that's appropriate since Army circumstances kept us from having you as soon as we would have liked to.  Again...everything happens for a reason.

My Second Child and Departure from the Army, Part 1

Daniel Edward...my new cuddly little munchkin

I must be suffering from Mommy-brain recently.  I spent so much time doing everything else this week and this weekend that I forgot to write a post to celebrate my littlest one's sixth birthday on his birthday! I guess I can use the excuse that we were spending the weekend celebrating his birthday so it's not as though he was forgotten.

If you've followed my blog at all recently you'll know that I just posted about my oldest son's birth only two weeks ago.  This time of year is always busy for us because they are 5 years and 2 weeks apart. It wasn't planned that way when we decided to have children, it just worked out that way.  I was in the Army when I had my first child and was still in when I got pregnant with my second.

I'm sure you're wondering about the title of this blog post.  It wasn't as simple as, I got pregnant and got out.  I would have loved to stay in, but it became impossible to.  I guess I want my descendants to understand why I got out when I had my second child because it was complicated.  I volunteered for Drill Sergeant duty which is usually a two year tour of duty and you can extend to three years with permission. By the time I became a Drill Sergeant the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were well underway.  This meant that everyone was deploying and then being stabilized immediately following deployment, so all of the Drill Sergeants were involuntarily extended to that final third year.  We had a great a great cadre, so this wasn't horrible news to us, but we were all getting tired and had been looking forward to the end of our tours when we would be able to choose our follow-on assignment.

I was almost in tears when I said goodbye to the Soldiers

That was one of the perks for being a Drill Sergeant.  You serve in that difficult position and when you leave, you get to choose where you want to go.  Well, by the time I was preparing to leave, the Army came up with a new way of looking at the Drill Sergeant Assignment Preference Program.  It had now become the "That's a nice policy to have during peacetime" policy.  This didn't sit well with many of the Drills, but our Branch Manager was an awesome dude and was going to do his best to get us where we wanted to go.  Sadly, my husband's Branch Manager was an all out ass and he ignored the fact that my husband was married to a Drill and put him on orders.  When we tried to fight it, they changed his orders to a "less desirable" location for us.  Talk about no reprisals...yeah, right!

I was livid.  My Battalion Commander was a complete and utter waste of oxygen that hated Drill Sergeants so he was unwilling to help.  I'm sure he was relishing the whole thing inside.  I think the man was beaten up in Basic Training or somehow made to look bad by a Drill Sergeant at some point in his military career with how he negatively fixated on us.

Anyway, the problem that I had with where my husband was being stationed was that there was no job for me.  Sure they would have found a job for me, but it would not have been in my Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) and most likely not in my pay grade.  I had a serious problem with this because I had made the list for Sergeant First Class in just under 8 years and pinned in under 9. This has become much more commonplace now, but when I was in, this was fast-tracking and I didn't want my career to be hindered by a bad assignment.

There was an additional problem too though.  My husband and I put off having more children so that I could be a Drill Sergeant.  Despite the wars going on, our intent was to go to a quiet assignment after Drill duty so we could have more children.  Sure I could go to this new duty station and serve in a position that would be less than beneficial, but if I were pregnant I would be looked upon as the person that showed up pregnant to get out of deploying.  While anyone that knew me would know that this wasn't true, part of the problem when you go to a new duty station is that you most likely aren't going to be known.  I couldn't stand to be looked at as someone that was trying to get out of combat.  That would absolutely tick me off.  The thought of being looked at like a dirt ball was horrifying.

My de-hatting.  Goodbye Drill Sergeant hat...

As a mother, I also had a hard time with the thought of giving birth and then being asked to deploy in 6 weeks. That was the reason we had hopes of going to a quieter assignment.  Take the person that had been camped out avoiding hard duty and let us have some down-time after three years of Drill duty.  Let me pop out a couple more kids and then the Army could send me wherever.  My hubby would have been retired by the end of that duty assignment and he could be the stay-at-home dad while I continued playing Soldier.  Nope.  It wasn't meant to be.

I was given the option of going to San Antonio without my husband.  He could request to be stationed with me a year later.  Yeah, that kind of makes getting pregnant difficult when one person is in Texas and the other in Kentucky, so we moved up our plans.  I played a gamble that if I were pregnant they wouldn't separate us.  We rolled the dice.  I got pregnant.  I faxed my pregnancy profile/diagnosis to my Branch Manager.  He was hopeful that it would work.  He told my hubby's idiot Branch Manager that if we weren't stationed together in San Antonio then I would get out.  The other guy thought I was bluffing.  I was a Sergeant First Class with going on 10 years in service.  I wasn't going to get out!

Wrong.  Family comes first with us, and we now had a baby on the way.  We knew that this was a possibility (although we didn't really think it would come to it), and I had my commander begin my separation paperwork.  I was relieved that we were now going to stay together.  I was ecstatic that we were having another baby, but I was absolutely devastated that my career was gone.

I had worked so hard and the Army had become my life.  I was a hard-charging, butt-kicking Army chick and I had succeeded at almost everything that I tried during my career.  I had awesome mentors, and I felt like I had let every single one of them down.

All (except one) of my friends and mentors told me that they weren't upset and that they understood my decision, but even though I had their support, I still felt that I had somehow betrayed them.  To top it all off making the transition from Senior Noncommissioned Officer to Spouse was a shock I wasn't prepared for.

I was used to walking into the commissary or PX in my uniform.  I was a part of the military system. Now, when I walked into a commissary or talked to someone it was always, "Who's your husband?" Yes, sexism prevailed and I was no longer looked at as someone that might have my own accomplishments, but just a spouse.  Is there something wrong with being a spouse?  Absolutely not! But I wanted to just scream out that I had my own successes.  I didn't want to live only by who my husband was.  I wanted to yell at everyone that looked at me like I was "just a stay-at-home mom" that I had been a Drill Sergeant.  That I had been a Senior NCO!  After years of counseling (and I'm not really joking about that) I was able to come to terms with my decision to leave.  My decision to leave? No our decision to leave.  My husband and I are a team in everything and we knew it was the right choice for our family.

...Hello cowboy hat.  I tried to keep a sense of humor!

I also realized that being a stay-at-home mom wasn't all that easy.  I laughed and thought I'd be sitting at home and eating bonbons all day, but it was a job unto itself...and a hard one at that!  I often looked back wondering how we managed being dual-military with a child.  We managed because we had to, but as a result our first son spent the majority of his day in daycare.  We missed so much with him, but I got to experience all that with our second child.

I wouldn't change a thing about being in the Army.  It was such an awesome experience.  I hope that I made a difference in some of my Soldiers' lives as my mentors had made in mine.  I made awesome friends when I was in, and I met my husband because I served.  I can look back now, and even though it still gives me pangs of sadness in my chest when I remember having to leave (and I felt that I HAD to leave to preserve my family), I feel no regrets.  Everything in our lives happens for a reason.  The good, and the not so good.  You just have to make the most of it...and hey, someday my grandkids will be able to say "Grandma not only wore combat boots, but a Drill Sergeant hat too!"...Not everyone can say that one!

[The story of my second son's birth and the story of me leaving the Army are tied together, and both are things I want passed on for generations, but I don't want what might seem a "bad" event in leaving the military to be tied to my son's birth, because his birth was anything but bad!  So I will reserve the remainder of this post for next time when I can talk about the joy of his arrival.]

Sunday's Obituary - John Boegel

John and Bertha Boegel nee Rosbeck (sitting)

John Boegel is my husband's great grandfather.  He was the fourth son of eight born to William and Katherine Boegel nee Melzer.  William and Katherine's children were:

Unknown newspaper

William Boegel Jr (b. 25JUL1875 / d. 09AUG1939)
Maria Boegel (b. abt 1876)
Katherine Bonlender nee Boegel (b. 21FEB1877 / d. 29NOV1956)
John Boegel (b. 12NOV1878 / d. 02MAR1935)
Peter Aloysius Boegel (b. 07FEB1881 / d. 19SEP1945)
Raymond Boegel (b. 29SEP1883 / d. 10JAN1946)
Mary Strabel nee Boegel (b. 29JAN1886 / d. 20JAN1947)
Theresa Boegel (b. 08OCT1888 / d. 04JUL1949)

John married Bertha Rosbeck on April 24th, 1900 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Their children are all accounted for in the obituary below.  Their daughter, Leona, was my husband's grandmother.

The obituary is pretty standard.  Of course some of the women were merely listed as Mrs "so-and-so", but his daughter's name was actually listed with her husband.  Very interesting.  I was also impressed by the last paragraph.  It's evident that John was well respected in the community.  I wish I knew more about him!

"John Boegel

John Boegel, age 56 years, 3 months, and 10 days, a resident of the vicinity of St. Kilian, passed away at his home there at 5 a. m.  on Saturday, Mar. 2, after an illness of about a year due to a complication of diseases.

Mr. Boegel was born in the town of Ashford, Fond du Lac county, on Nov. 12, 1878.  Growing to manhood, he married Miss Bertha Rosbeck, who survives, on April 24, 1900, the couple coming to their present home 30 years ago.  Four children were born to the couple, three of whom survive their father as follows:  Roman at home, Leona (Mrs. Romand Kuehl) of St. Michaels, and Clarence of St. Kilian.  A son, Rudolph, predeceased his father 10 years ago.  Deceased also leaves one granddaughter, three sisters, and three brothers.  The brothers and sisters are William of Jackson, Peter of St. Bridget, Mrs. Gebbardt Strobel of Milwaukee, and Raymond, Mrs. Joseph Bolander, and Theresa of St. Kilian.

Funeral services for Mr. Boegel were held at 10 a. m. on Tuesday, Mar. 5, from the Miller funeral home at Kewaskum to St. Kilian's Catholic church, the Rev. John Reichl officiating.  Interment was in the parish cemetery.

Mr. Boegel was a man who filled his station in life with credit to himself, always giving the best that was in him to his family, his community, and his country.  His righteousness and sincerity gained for him the esteem of his fellow citizens and his family requited his devotion with love.  The memory of him will be kept alive by those who knew him best, the memory of a noble soul and a life that was worth living. The News extends its sympathy to the bereaved survivors."

[The clipping was hand-dated with John Boegel's date of death.  The newspaper's name and date of publication is unknown]

Family Recipe Friday - Oh Cookie Recipe, How I've Been Looking for You!

And for quite some time too!  Years ago when I was a teenager (and I'm not saying how long ago that was) my sisters and I used to make these cookies.  They had two of the things we loved most in them...chocolate and peanut butter.  They came from a small, free recipe book that Hershey put out in 1979.

The dough was always tough to make though.  There aren't a lot of liquid ingredients and if we used our hand-held mixer for this recipe it would smell like it was burning.  I'm not sure whether that was the fault of an old mixer or the cookie dough, but after smelling it we immediately stopped using the mixer!  It was hand stirring only for us and one time we actually broke a wooden spoon while mixing the batter!

My father had this recipe book in his kitchen and many years ago I asked for it.  I wanted to find the recipe that made those yummy cookies and make them for my kids. He gave it to me and I eagerly looked through the pages in search of it.

I'm a visual person.  I can remember where something was on a page, although I might not remember everything it said.  I remembered that the recipe was on a left page of the cookbook, but search as I might, I couldn't find it.  I couldn't remember it's name and nothing seemed familiar.  Then the other day as I was cleaning my kitchen I picked up the book again and turned right to it.  It must have been staring me in the face and laughing at me, it just didn't register.

My oldest son made the cookies while I made salsa on Super Bowl Sunday.  Since the Packers weren't playing there wasn't a big party like last year, but salsa and cookies (not together...ick) were required for the game.

Every oven is different so take the baking time with a grain of salt.  You want the cookies to start to turn golden on the bottoms so that they don't stay soft after they cool.  Yeah...that's pretty hard to do with a chocolate cookie, but after making the whole batch (and eating many of the warm, yummy cookies) I realized that they were undercooked when they cooled.  They should be crunchy, not soft.

Also, the recipe says to drop by teaspoonfuls...use your best judgement there.  Yes, that's the only way you'll probably get 5 dozen cookies, but they will be too small for my liking!  I hope you enjoy my little piece of nostalgia!

Peanut Butter Chip Chocolate Cookies

1 c. butter
1-1/2 c sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla
2 c flour
2/3 c. cocoa
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 (12 oz) pkg Peanut Butter chips

Cream butter, sugar, eggs and vanilla in large mixing bowl.  Combine flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt; blend in.  Stir in peanut butter chips.  Drop by teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 for 8 to 10 minutes.  Cool 1 minute before removing to wire rack. About 5 dozen cookies.

Wednesday's Child - Raymond Dart

Clippings like this always make me sad.  No parent should lose a child.  Raymond is my husband's 2nd cousin once removed.

"Infant Son of Darts Buried The Morning

Special to Press-Gazette

LUXEMBURG, Wis. - Funeral services for Raymond Dart, six-months-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Marvin Dart, Luxemburg, route 4, who died Saturday afternoon in a Green Bay hospital after an illness of one week, were held at 9 o'clock this morning in St. Martin church at Tonet.  Burial was in the church cemetery.  The McMahon Funeral home was in charge of the arrangements.

The infant, who was born Nov. 1, 1949, is survived by his parents; a sister, Darlene, age 2; his maternal grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Matheys, of Sugar Bush; and his paternal grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. August Dart of Luxemburg."

[Hand-written "died Apr 8 1950"]

Tombstone Tuesday - Another Brick in the Wall

I've blogged about Dennis Dugan before.  He married Elizabeth "Bessie" Quirk who died shortly after giving birth to their daughter via c-section.  Their daughter was Elizabeth "Betty" Dugan and while I found her in the 1920 census with her widower father, by 1930 Betty is missing and Dennis is remarried.

Even though Bessie, Dennis and Betty are not in my direct line, I have spent a lot of time trying to find out what happened to Betty.  Why?  Bessie was the only other child of William and Mary Quirk nee Lee to marry and have a child.  The other was my great grandfather, Edward, and he had one child that lived.  He too lost his wife and second child shortly after childbirth via c-section. Despite William and Mary having had 9 children they do not have a multitude of descendants.  Part of me hopes beyond hope that perhaps Betty went off to live with another relative by 1930 and perhaps she married and had children.  I've found nothing to prove that...or disproved that, thus far.

I have hopes that someday I can find word of her.  She wasn't mentioned in her father's obituary.  Not a good sign.  There is likewise no grave for her in Holy Saviour Cemetery in Bethlehem, PA.  This is the cemetery that her father, Dennis, is buried in.  If she is buried there, perhaps it is under her married name.  A girl can hope.

I had hoped that Dennis' tombstone might add some additional information or chip a little away from the brick wall that are the Dugans.  Nope.  On one side of the tombstone is merely the surname "Dugan".  On the other "Auer," "King," and "Larkin".  I know his second wife's maiden name was King, and her mother's maiden name was Larkin, but I don't know who this "Auer" is.  Perhaps a clue.  I'll have to call the caretaker back and see if he can give me the names of these unknown people. Until that time, it doesn't appear that any bricks are coming down.  Sometimes I think there's a devilish leprechaun building up the wall instead.  Tricky little buggers, but I'm determined to find the gold at the other side of the rainbow brick wall.

[A very special thank-you to Charlene Teifer Stiffinella for taking the pictures of the tombstone and for permitting me to use them in my blog!]