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Louis and Mary

Dear Rosa,

It’s funny, this strange little world I live in. Searching for people so long gone no one remembers what they looked like. Walking through cemeteries, seeking family I’ve never met. Finding you, Rosa, and your sweet husband, Henry, was a wonderful moment for me last week.

Today brought another special moment. Today, I found your grandparents.

Louis Blain and Mary Adaline Bourdeau. Only here in Vermont they were known simply as Lewis and Mary Blair.

I knew I’d find them. I just didn’t think they’d be buried in the same cemetery as you.

And how sweet is that?

So, next time I’m in little Duxbury, Vermont, you know where old Sue will be. Yup, sauntering up and down perfectly  manicured lawns searching for that small stone that marks her great-great-great grandparent’s resting spot. And when I find their stone, I’ll take a pic or two to share.

Maybe I’ll even plant a lilac tree.

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Rosa

I found them! Well, sort of…

ElisabethBlairDrinkwine-photo1
Elisabeth and Peter Drinkwine

Dear Rosa-

My husband and I went searching in Burlington for your mother’s  marker. I’d seen a picture of the gravestone, so I knew Elizabeth was buried with Peter Drinkwine, her second husband, and their child, Hattie. I knew we were in the right place, but dang it – we just couldn’t seem to find it. While we were there, I thought to search for Elizabeth’s brother, Newell and their father, Louis.

Nope, came up with nothing.

So, I zipped down to the French Canadian Genealogy Society to search their records.  The gentleman in charge was so very  helpful.

“There he is!” I think the man lost some hearing in his right ear. “Louis Blain, my great-great grandfather!”

He smiled and turned the page. “This is his wife’s marker in Burlington.”

“But he’s not there.” My hopes were dashed in an instant.

He looked at me with such knowing eyes. “Was he married twice?”

“Yup, his first wife died. Louis remarried when he was 74.”

“Then he would be buried with his first wife.”

Mystery solved. Louis rests in peace next to Mary Bourdeau, I believe in Massachusetts or New York.

And Newell? His wife, Mathilda, died when she was young and he never remarried. I’ll find him when I find her.

So, Rosa, I come back to your mother. She was too stinking young when she married John Drinkwine (she was barely 16), he was too stinking old  (40 years her senior) and he had too many stinking kids (he had 9 before, then 9 more with her). I wonder- what does it say that Elizabeth is buried with her second husband, Peter?

I say, “Good for you, Elizabeth!”