Momentary absence.Flames prevail. Mother burned, and grieving
The unmarked graves of Rooth children, Gladys, age 4, Andrew, age 2, and Evaline, a baby are marked in this photo by photographer/historian Tim McCall who has plotted the location from Cemetery”'s records. Tim has over 20,000 photos of the cemetery and has plotted graves of the entire Cemetery on a vector map. His interest in the Cemetery was prompted because of a relative buried there. Sue Hunter Weir researched for this month”'s story after she saw the following message from Rhonda, a granddaughter of the Rooths in the story, had placed in the Minnesota Historical Society”'s Death Index page. “Andrew Rooth, son of Andrew and Bertha Rooth waskilled in a house fire in Minneapolis in 1911. There were at least two other children killed, Gladys and one other. If any-one can provide any info (newspaper article, etc) I will be very grateful. Thank You, Rhonda Rooth Devilbiss” Sue searched for more information and sent that and the photograph of the gravesite published here. She then received the following e-mail from Rhonda. “I would be very grateful for any information you could send. I have the death certificates for all four children, and a couple of newspaper articles about the house fire.
Searching ”“ A Serial Novelle Chapter 23: “Turning Darker”
“The couple ran down 14th, jumped the fence and slid down the slope to the Greenway. They ran several blocks before they stopped under a bridge. Angel turned back to look and saw that no one had followed. Heavy snow had begun to fall, covering their tracks. They sat on the concrete skin of the bridge underpass.”
By Patrick Cabello Hansel
We can”'t control what is coming. We can”'t foresee it. Angel and Luz, upon leaving the Mercado Central were as in love as two can be. Together, come what may.
What came was not a stab from Angel”'s past, but from Luz”'. As they walked west on Lake Street, they didn”'t notice the man standing at the corner a block and a half down. They didn”'t see that he had seen them, and was waiting with eyes like radar. As they got closer, Angel could tell the kind of man he was: the kind you nod at as you pass, but don”'t engage in conversation. The kind whose business takes all.
They intended to go around him, and continue to Luz”' aunt”'s house. She wanted to talk with her about all that had happened. But as they approached the corner, the man stepped into their path and laughed, a laugh swarming with deceit.… Read the rest “Searching ”“ A Serial Novelle Chapter 23: “Turning Darker””
THIS IS GOOD OR I”'LL EAT MY CHRISTMAS TREE
By Jane Thomson
My first recipe is from 97 ORCHARD , an Edible History of Five Immigrant Families, by Jane Ziegelman. This book interests me because my father grew up in a New York tenement (the word just meant “rental building” at the time; I don”'t know how shabby his family”'s apartment was, but I suspect it was not spacious). The building at 97 Orchard is on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and is now the Tenement Museum. It was built about 1860 and was abandoned after 1935. It has been preserved and restored. The first time I visited the building about 20 years ago, it was left just as it had been found. The tour started in the narrow dark front hall with a dingy frieze painted on the wall, a tin ceiling and rickety stairs going up to the next of several stories. We were then taken to an apartment composed of two small rooms with one window between them and one window to the outside. There were layers of old wallpaper peeling, and numbers on the wall showing the quantity of trousers that had been sewn, as the apartment was also a sweat shop. Since then several apartments have been restored and decorated as they might have been when an immigrant family lived there – one for an Irish family, one for a German family, one for an Italian family and one for a Jewish family.… Read the rest “THIS IS GOOD OR I”'LL EAT MY CHRISTMAS TREE”
