“Her name was Bessie”. That’s the only thing my father told me about his paternal grandmother, and that was only after I asked him about my great-grandparents. He mentioned there were a couple of uncles, both of which disappeared “I think somewhere in Pennsylvania.” He had a photo of one of the uncles. I don’t know how well he knew his grandmother or how often he saw her. He must have been very young. That was all I had to go on.

His father had died when he was a little boy. Following that loss, my dad grew up without knowing the paternal side of his family. His widowed mother had no interest in sharing any information and clearly showed no interest in maintaining much contact with her deceased husband’s relatives, nor even sharing her own history. There was a reluctance, and perhaps a whiff of past scandal, a reason why there was no contact. Whenever I asked her to tell me about the family, the response was always “I don’t bother with all that, it’s the past”.

Being one of those kids who grew up with lots of “Where did I come from?” and “Who were those people?” and “What was their story?” questions, it was not surprising when my father gave me the assignment to “Find My Family” (or more specifically, find his family), gifting me a genealogy workbook about discovering your relatives and making a family tree. That task was requested many years in the past, before the availability of internet searches and DNA testing – when it meant writing letters in different languages to municipal offices and churches in foreign countries, trying to translate elaborate, cursive handwriting with a travel dictionary in hand. To further complicate, many immigrants entering the United States ended up having their names misspelled, modified, or totally changed either by immigration agents or by their own desire to appear more “American”. It was an exercise in frustration that I ended up putting aside.

My dad passed away years before the availability of internet genealogy sites and genetic testing exploded, opening the floodgates for sudden appearances of unknown relatives and sometimes exposing unexpected revelations on identity. Sadly, he never got to enjoy the treasure trove of relations I eventually did find on his reluctant mother’s side; an entire village of people actually, who landed in the United States and Canada and now span the width of both those countries. In addition to this information, I gleaned a few juicy stories; this in spite of Grandma F. refusing to share her past.

But there was no sign of any Bessie, nor of anyone else on his father’s side. No trace of the missing uncles. There were a few distant DNA matches to me that did not respond or went nowhere shortly after I reached out, and that was it.

Eventually I found who I thought might be Bessie (it appeared she was known by four different first names and three different last names, in two different languages) on a few ship manifests, along with the names of who I was pretty sure were her sons and a daughter, which helped to add identification. But the trail died out pretty quickly after that. Periodically I would enter what I thought might possibly be one of Bessie’s other names into a search engine, but repeatedly brought up nothing.

And then one day during a mindless, idle moment, I tried it again, and *Boom*, suddenly there was a photo of a gravestone with her name on it – or what I thought might be one of her names – along with the name of her husband, who would be my great-grandfather. Pieces of the puzzle started to click together. The grave was in Pennsylvania…..

I called the cemetery to inquire and was told that plot went so far back that they would have to poke around through old books in order to see if they could locate any information about it, but if they found anything they would get back to me. A number of weeks later I received a call from the nicest woman, letting me know a few people in the office had worked together to do a search and pulled out the original files. I gratefully sent them some chocolate.

The grave had been purchased by someone with a last name I had never heard of. This stranger was buried in the plot along with my possible great-grandparents, in addition to one of the missing great-uncles, a woman who was probably my great-aunt, and also another man with an unrecognizable name who appeared to be great-aunt’s husband. It seemed “Bessie” was also registered under a few different names in their office files. So next, I did a genealogy search on the name of the stranger who had purchased the cemetery plot. It turns out he had been the first husband of my great-aunt and the first to go into the grave. A further search on his ancestors revealed they had a son who was now in his 90’s. Although I had never heard of him, this 90-something year old man appeared to be my father’s actual first cousin. With more research via the amazing, invasive internet, I found the phone number of someone who might be him, took a chance, and called. He answered.

It turns out his grandmother, a woman who he had lived with growing up, was my great-grandmother – who happened to be known by four different names and nicknames. One of those names was Bessie. Boom!

New Found Cousin grew up having no idea he had these first cousins. He knew he had an uncle – my grandfather – but nobody ever told him he had cousins on that side of the family. The reason why probably gets back to Grandma F and her “estrangement” from her in-laws. New Found Cousin was beyond thrilled with the sudden connection. We had a few enlightening phone conversations, filling in the blanks about familial personalities, health issues and other backstories. He said he really wanted to meet. This is where different points of interest in my life converged and it evolved into something more.

Regular readers of this blog know my penchant for nature, flowers and gardens, mushrooms and foraging. So it made sense that decades ago, having stumbled upon a fascinating photo of giant waterlilies (with six foot diameter leaves!) displayed at Longwood Gardens, it warranted further investigation into this eastern botanical site. It was an easy decision to add this enticing destination to my ongoing Bucket List. Yet despite the desire to visit Longwood for over thirty years, every time it seemed as if it might happen, the plans never materialized…. or fell apart before getting off the ground.

Longwood Gardens is in Chester County, Kennett Township, Pennsylvania, which also happens to be the area where New Found Cousin is from. Oddly enough, New Cousin installed the heating and cooling system for the Orchid Room at the botanical gardens many, many decades ago.

This area is also known as the” Mushroom Capital of the World” because about 65% of the mushrooms (that’s 500 million pounds a year!) grown in the United States come from there. It turns out a number of my extended family worked in the mushroom houses. They were (and some still are) mushroom growers or involved in the industry, which has expanded from white button mushrooms to all sorts of exotic cultivated varieties.

Chester County is where Bessie, along with my great-grandfather, great-aunt and great-uncle, their spouses and children lived. With the convergence of all these signposts, needless to say, a Road Trip was in order.

My brother, sister, sister-in-law and I drove down there and met with our New Found Cousin and his Very Lovely Wife. We were sorry his children, who would be our second cousins, were not available that day to meet. We brought photos for him and he brought an album filled with a wealth of old pictures, some going back to the early 1900’s. Bessie was a musician who came from a family of professional musicians and luthiers. She had also been a seamstress, her husband a tailor. New Cousin told me they made all the family’s clothing.

Photos in those days were not a regular event and often were reserved for special occasions. Given that, it is interesting to see them all dressed up in their “good” apparel, made with their own hands, at what must have been an event requiring finer clothing. I am wondering if some of these photos surrounded a family wedding.

Another of my grandfather, in dress pants and a crisp shirt, holding a draft horse.

There is one of great-grandfather with his big moustache, hat, suspenders and teacup ears, an aura of my own father about him that would reflect further on in generations that had yet to happen. Another on what was clearly a very important trip to The Statue of Liberty. And Bessie with her guitar, her husband, two of her four children and three of her six grandchildren gathered around her. Given the clothing and fact there is even a photo, perhaps it was a Sunday afternoon party or celebration together. Of course I can only surmise.

And there are even pictures of a young, reluctant-to-share-history Grandma F, years before she was a widowed mother, standing with her also young sister-in-law (New Cousin’s mother). Yet another with her husband, my grandfather R. Like little mushrooms emerging from the dark, I’m discovering more and more surprises brought to light. I guess Grandma F didn’t quite escape “all that in the past” after all.

New Cousin had Bessie’s birth certificate, and my great grandfather’s military conscription papers, which revealed the names of their parents! They were folded up, faded and creased. Over lunch, I made copies and photographed as much as I could from his old album. And then we followed him to the cemetery, where we found ourselves standing at the foot of our great-grandparent’s actual plot. It was interesting to see which one of their many different names they had chosen to be engraved on the monument. Her name on the stone was Bessie.

We are one of those weird families that has always taken photos standing around “the gravestone” during cemetery visits, and so it was no different and quite natural for us to do that here. I think New Cousin and his Lovely Wife might have been a bit surprised, but they went along with it and he joined us for a picture, although I think he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to smile or not, given the location.

After that he took us to the house the widowed Bessie and their family had shared. A whole lot of them lived in that little house! The current owners actually invited us in so we could see it and feel the ancestral vibe, should there be one. I don’t know if I felt any vibrations, but it was rather cool to stand in the living room on the original wood floor where they once dwelled. The now-updated house sits amidst fields of corn, shaded by towering maples that were planted by New Cousin long ago…

We spent a long afternoon with our New Found Cousin. It was a very moving and thrilling experience for him. He didn’t want to say goodbye. There was a strange feeling of connection with people who had been virtual strangers. Having faces and stories brings these ancestors to life – so much more real than just names on a document. The opportunity to ask questions and spark the memories of this very clear and active nonagenarian has been has a rare and fortunate gift for all of us.

The entire next day was spent at Longwood Gardens with my siblings, another check off the Bucket List. We walked around for over six hours, having a wonderful, fun-filled, exhausting and fulfilling experience.

Although the cooling and heating system has no doubt been upgraded since Cousin installed it many years ago, we took photos inside the Orchid Room in his honor.

Being in “The Mushroom Capital,” it was a thrill to find mushroom-related entrees like “Chicken Fried Lion’s Mane” on a restaurant menu. We concurred that we might have tasted one of the best cream of mushroom soups ever.

Finding Bessie has put closure to some mysteries and at the same time opened some new doors. It has also fulfilled my father’s wishes – albeit belatedly. He would have been amazed and greatly loved knowing about the missing pieces of his family history. It is sad he is not here to enjoy these revelations. Because I have found Bessie, there are now some new trails to follow leading to her brothers and their families, which may reveal even more gems in the future, should I want to pursue it.

While my own children have mentioned that these discoveries are interesting, they are nowhere near as focused concerning the family genealogy. I am hoping that someone from the next generation will eventually pick up the thread. I will say in many ways, Finding Bessie has been a synchronistic adventure which has put closure on a long-standing mystery, while gathering bouquets of ancestral flowers.

~*~