Dailyish Thoughts #80

Long drives have a way of clearing one’s head. Well. For most people that’s the effect. For me it’s one long occasion to think about every single thing I can’t think about when chasing little people or fixing cars. And of course it gives plenty of time to build up anxiety, particularly when whatever is broken on the truck makes it feel like I am driving through butter. After a while I gave up caring about it, after all it wasn’t acting like it was going to stall or anything. Just so. Much. Sluggish.

But now I am trying to unpack a mess of yarn in my head. Given that my brain is a web, everything gets connected, even if no other person on the planet can see it. You might see several very shorts posts from me as I’m sorting out the mess. There should be no shortage of interesting tid bits though with topics ranging from Calvinism to “toxic masculinity” to social justice to sophistry to presuppositionalism. They aren’t all related, but the stream of consciousness containing all of them did seem to flow in one direction.

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The Groans of Settling

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Staring at a mountain of mess is not something you want to do when you come home. It’s even worse when it hasn’t been home for half a year. Those million annoyances I mentioned the other day make settling back into life much much more difficult than it ought to be.

In my head I had left the house much cleaner. I worked really hard the couple weeks before we left to get it ready. But when we walked in it was just scary. The way this house looked when we walked in is just another indicator that stress makes hard work far less efficient. Apparently I had just spun my wheels in February and March. Sure, I fixed the broken truck (this is beginning to sound like a broken record), but I let other things slide.

The best part of returning here is that after six months so much of this stuff has lost it’s usefulness to me. I haven’t seen it or touched it or used it in half a year. Why do I really need it? How much of our junk do we just keep because “one day” we might find use for it again? I have realized that is a very pauperish thing to do. Poor people keep things and re-use things almost compulsively. This is not wrong, when the situation calls for it. But when you have the resources to replace broken things or pass along unused things without having to “worry” about replacing them later, you should. I have not used so much of this stuff, why hang on to it when I can give it to someone who can, and if I need it later simply replace it?

Emotions are fickle also. I said I liked it out there and wasn’t so sure of here. But now that I am here I am not so sure. There are advantages to having the grocery store two miles away. There are also disadvantages to having fast food and shopping so close. There are temptations galore!

The biggest question right now is this: Is this vacation or is this life? when you spend equal time in different places it almost feels like you take on two different lives. We have different friends, different activities, different styles. It almost feels like we are entirely different people out there.

Settling in to a “new” place takes time. I’m still not sure this is home or not. But for now it will have to do.

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Welcome to The Jungle

So I got a little lax in my travel log. After surviving Texas there was little energy for writing more. Louisiana was a bit more gracious (after the roach motel) and provided us with more po boy than we could fit in our ever growing bellies.

I will say this about Louisiana, even though 90% of my known and unknown relatives live there: they are worse drivers than Texans. I swear every one of them wanted to run into me. That would have actually worked out though, since both vehicles have been acting a bit rough. The last time we got hit we were given quite a bit of money by the insurance company to promise we wouldn’t sue, completely out of nowhere.

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Traffic brought on by roadwork or by deadly accident? I’m going with deadly accident.

Mississippi and Alabama were a blur, there really isn’t much to them way down near the Gulf.

But Florida… Oh Florida. Y u so big?

The panhandle of Florida is nothing but pines in lines and a whole bunch of nothing. It doesn’t help that we live almost as far as you can go to the other side of the state. We made it 96 miles in before passing out at a rest area for the night. I have a hard time believing it, but I slept like a rock, despite the fact that the van was like a greenhouse.

I awoke to the sound of Haitians. Haitian is a very distinct dialect of French that I only recognize because there was a Haitian church meeting next door to us for awhile. I thought “wow, you don’t hear that out west.” Then I noticed they had Colorado plates. It’s funny where you will run into people.

Once I was awoken from my deep slumber it was a mad dash across the state to get home.

When I pulled in the driveway I swear I heard “Welcome to The Jungle” starting up and a whole band of gorillas scattering out of the yard. Six months has certainly taken its toll on the yard.

The inside wasn’t much better. We left in a hurry and I forgot how bad it was. The stagnant air doesn’t help and there is a layer of dust on everything. I am not throwing my hands in the air about it though. It’s a lot of work but it’s not insurmountable.

I won’t lie. We haven’t completely emptied the cars yet. We had a few favorite places to visit first. Our Chinese buffet, Publix, and Target.all the places Alamogordo and Cloudcroft don’t offer.

Now with well fed bodies and a few local itches scratched we can face tomorrow. As of now that means a two mile run followed by trying to make the yard look less terrifying and making the truck not so scary to drive.

We’ll see if our actions will match up with our desire…

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Texas, So Much Texas

Hugeston…I mean: Houston

“The sun never sets on the vast Texas Republic” or so the saying goes, right?

Texas is huge. Yuuuuuge. So huge it should be divided into three states: West, Central, and East Texas. As it is now you get to mile marker 800 on I-10 and think “isn’t this a bit ridiculous?” only to drive 80 more miles before finding the end of the state!

I can honestly say that I have never driven through this state and thought “Gee, I’d really like to live here.” it’s not that it has no beauty, or that the people are all bad. Well, OK, much of it is bland and the drivers are insane, but it’s not that. I just couldn’t live in a place that takes ten months to get out of. The geography is just too immense.

We made it through. It only took all day, but we survived. One full state down, four to go.

Now to see if we survive this roach motel.

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Slow Going

The only problem with two vehicles and two drivers is you can’t switch off. When one is tired the other is held to their sleep schedule.

Which for us means not getting to a big town with a hotel. Thankfully we have gotten accustomed to sleeping at Pilots over the years. In a trailer…

Without a trailer I tossed and turned all night. In the Texas warmth. With one window cracked to keep the cats in. With three kids.

Oh the smell.

Well, it’s 0720 here in West Texas. Hopefully in about 15 hours we will be somewhere near Hammond, LA. I have a boudin po boy to buy!

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Leaving On A…

True to what I said, we have two days left and I am finally beginning to pack.

It’s nice to have only 200 Sq ft to pack up. It means that everything will fit into just a few boxes. Of course we are not hauling a trailer back with us this time, so everything that would have traveled in it now has to fit into a minivan and the back of an SUV. Tetris anyone?

I can’t promise much in the next few days from me. I do intend on doing travel posts every night once we are on the road, so look forward to those.

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Home

A garden perhaps?

What makes a home a home?

For some it’s the noise of children, laughter, a crowd of family and the bustle of life. For others it’s smells: food cooking, trees and flowers, clean linens on a line.

For me?

I don’t know.

I’m on the precipice of moving back to the place that I called home for nearly ten years. But it doesn’t feel like I am headed home.

There is much I love about that place. There are people that I love, places that I love, and since driving Uber and delivery my intimacy with the city has grown. I know it in and out and I find every corner special in its own way. And the opportunities! Such a massive place with so many people and so many corners, there is food, nightlife, art, music, shopping, and jobs galore!

Yet, it still lacks something.

The place I grew up has long ago lost its “home” feeling, despite the family and friends that I have there. As soon as I left, the whole area changed. I get lost there now. I can’t stand the weather. The traffic is unbearable. There is a rush and a bustle which I have long since lost my stomach for.

Here? This is probably the only place I have ever been where no one says they want to leave. I have met more people and gotten to know them in the past six months than I ever have anywhere I have lived. The community here makes this place feel like home. For the first time in my life I feel like I am in a place where I can know and be known.

Of course I am conflicted. We have no physical home here like we do in Florida. Despite feeling home here I have yet to feel settled. But going back there for a season isn’t exactly settled. Back and forth is flux. And my mind is not good with flux.

But moving is change. And my mind is not big on change either.

And family? We have gotten accustomed to 700 miles away from them. This would be nearly 2,000. That’s hardly a short trip, and a family of seven can’t just hop on a plane easily, not with the cost of tickets these days.

So is this home? Could this be home? Am I just so unsettled I’m desperate to call something “home”?

I hope to find out the answers to those questions in the next few months.

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The Mysterious Death of Francis Degen: Part 3

If you haven’t read the previous posts, you might want to go back now and read them. Otherwise, you might be a bit lost here.

When our story ended last time, Francis Degen was dead. His blind wife Helene was given charge over his estate. And his body was exhumed but nothing found.

“Fifty dollars and other valuable considerations. ..”

But what of the faithful servant Hugh McNeil?

Well, shortly after Helene was made administrix of the Degen estate, McNeil had her power of attorney signed over to him. Within twelve days of Francis’ death, Helene sold him the Belmore property for “the sum of fifty-dollars and other considerations.” Between March, 1890 and February 28th, 1891, Helene and Hugh dutifully took care of settling Francis’ estate.

By the time of his burial, the stock Francis held was worth $1,000.00. His land shares and mining shares were worthless. His deposits in Marble Bank amounted to $1,900.00 and he had a note owed him by W. L. Raht for $700.00. Without considering his furniture the estate amounted to $3,600.00. For the time, this was a comfortable sum of money (though not the $22,000.00 quoted by one newspaper of the day). Helene was declared sole heir of the entire amount.

Helene died March 6, 1891 at 91 Guernsey Street in Brooklyn, exactly one week after settling her husband’s estate. Her body was supposed to have been taken back to Florida for burial, but no records exist to indicate such a burial happened.

“Final discharge from said administration…”

According to newspaper reports written after her death, Helene and Hugh had come to New York hoping to get treatment for her lost eyesight. They apparently made several trips between Florida and New York in the months after Francis died. During one November trip Helene had a will drawn up.

This will of course left everything to McNeil. However, Helene never actually signed the will. The will was marked with an “X”. Her nephews, Eric and Frederick Rothgart contested the will in September of 1891. In early 1892, after several delays, witnesses came all the way from Florida to appear in the case.

Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 4 o’clock Edition, May 25, 1891

The first witness called to the stand was Bernard J. Douras, the attorney for the will. He testified that he drawn up the will for Helene at 195 Guernsey Street. Witnessing the will were George Wilson and Morris Barnett.

Mr. Douras was a friend of Hugh McNeil and met Helene through him. According to his testimony Helene wanted “Mac” to have all her property when she died. The will was signed on November 29, 1890. There is dispute about whether the witnesses actually saw her make her mark or if they were in a separate room at the time.

Mr. Douras further testified that Helene “had told him twenty-five times at least that “Mac” was entitled to her estate.” She also told him that Francis had reletives who accused her of having poisoned Francis. She had no relatives of her own, according to Mr. Douras, and she wanted everything to go to McNeil.

The case was decided in McNeil’s favor and the nephews filed an appeal in Clay County. The attorneys weren’t too interested in fighting hard for Bavarians who were on the other side of the world and the case didn’t make it much further. McNeil was the sole heir of the Degen estate.

Not only do we not know what happened to Helene’s body, we don’t know much about Hugh McNeil after this whole ordeal. The last record I have been able to find is an 1892 census record indicating the he lived in New York with a wife named Anne. No previous records indicate that he was married.

Was Anne a trophy wife for the 54 year old heir to a small fortune? Was Hugh a secret lover to Helene during the year they spent together in Rutland before traveling out to meet Francis in Utah? Did they plot Francis’ death together? Did he betray her and poison her into blindness? Did they poison Francis as is relatives suspected? Did McNeil trick the blind widow into signing her fortune to him, or did she still love him and the mark on the will was truly hers?

There are many unanswered questions. Perhaps some of Joseph Degen’s descendents can answer them. Anyone know a Degen? Maybe they know where Helene is. Maybe they know what happened to McNeil. Maybe they would want to restore the grave of Francis Marion Degen to its former glory.

We can only wonder…

The Mysterious Death of Francis Degen, Part 2

In my previous post I told you about the founding of Belmore City and the promise it gave its many investors, including the retiree Francis Degen. In this post we meet the man who lies in Belmore State Forest.

Francis Marion Degen was born in Bonn, Rhenish Prussia on October 10, 1829 to parents Johann Heinrich (John Henry) and Anna Helena (nee. Hittorff) Degen. He spent his childhood as Franz, Francis would be the name he adopted as a 20 year old immigrant to the United States.

Passenger list of the Isaac Bell

In late June of 1851, Franz and his 23 year old brother Joseph set sail aboard the Isaac Bell from the port in La Harve, France. They arrived in New York City on July 2. Other records indicate that Francis may have come to America in 1847 on the ship Emigrant.

Whether he came as a 20 year old or a 15 year old, in his first years in the United States, Francis moved to High Lake, Pennsylvania, and became a leather merchant. Joseph meanwhile became a dentist and settled in the Bronx, New York.

Lydia Helene Rothgart was born around 1834 in Alsen, Schleswig Holstein. She came to America around 1854 and soon became acquainted with Francis. They married in 1857. Because Francis was an engineer, the couple moved to West Rutland, Vermont, to get involved in the marble mining industry.

There is one record of a Francis M Degen joining the Navy late in the Civil War. The enlistment record shows him enlisting in November of 1864. Whether or not he saw action in the final months of the war, or even if this is the same Francis M Degen remains unknown.

Francis M Degen, Stone Cutter

While in Rutland, the Degens met Hugh McNeil, an Irish immigrant and marble stone cutter. McNeil would become a trusted confidant of the Degens until the end of both their lives.

Francis was a successful engineer in the Rutland mines. In 1880 he decided to take his mining knowledge out west to the silver mines of Frisco, Utah. Helene and McNeil stayed behind in Rutland until Francis had set up a home in Utah.

William Raht’s Patent

While in Frisco, Francis became friends with William Raht, a patent holder for a process to treat ores. Raht would later be a witness to Degen’s will, drawn up in 1887.

The Degens enjoyed their time in the rough town of Frisco. Francis joined the Freemasons there, along with McNeil, and became the Junior Warden of the number eight St. John’s lodge. Interestingly, for reasons not recorded, Hugh McNeil was dimitted from the lodge in 1882.

Francis worked as an engineer in the Horn mine and accumulated quite a bit of wealth as well as stock in the Globe Mining Company. He already had several deposits with the Marble Bank in Rutland, he added more money to his estate in Utah.

The mines of Frisco suffered a massive collapse in 1885. While they recovered in late 1886 and early 1887, Francis decided it was time to move on. He decided that Belmore City, Florida was the place he wanted to retire.

Hugh was sent to the Degen’s lot in early 1889 to set up a homestead and plant an orange grove. Francis and Helene came to the property late that year but their retirement was short lived.

In December of 1889, Helene went blind, whether from illness or stroke or something more sinister, we will never know. Six weeks after her blindness struck, on February 12th, 1890, Francis dropped dead in the family garden. He was laid to rest on the homestead.

In his will, Francis left his entire estate to Helene, “in consideration of the faithful service (she had given him) in accumulating (his) property”. Despite her blindness she was naned admininistrix of the estate.

Given the sudden nature of his death, his brother Joseph asked for an examination of the body for signs of foul play. Six weeks after Francis died his body was exhumed and an autopsy performed. Records indicate that chemists found nothing amiss and Francis was decided to have died of heart failure.

Stay tuned for the real crazy story…