Amedee Bujol’s Tragic Death

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Marie Amelie Belite Bujol was the daughter of Amedee Bujol.

I came across something this week that I had never noticed before.  On the profile for Amedee Bujol on FindaGrave, there was a photo attached of a newspaper article.  I had been there for four years, but I hadn’t noticed it.  I don’t examine every little detail of those profiles on a regular basis, so it can be easy to overlook something.  But this thing wasn’t insignificant!  It was information about how one of my ancestors had died in a rather tragic way.  That always makes a good story, right?

I shouldn’t talk about his death so flippantly, should I?  It’s serious business, especially when the circumstances are tragic.  It’s not the first time that I’ve been flippant about his death, either.  I’ve done it at least twice already.  But before I tell you about those, let me tell you of my connection to Amedee Bujol.  My father’s name was Bob Landry, and he was the son of Erie Patureau Landry.  She was my beloved Mee Maw, and her mother was Marie Therese Landry Patureau.  Marie Therese died at the age of 41 when Mee Maw was just 14 years old.  She was the oldest child of Trasimond Landry and Belite Bujol.  Belite was the daughter of Joseph Hubert Amedee Bujol and Anna Adele Landry.  She was born in 1843 in Brusly, Louisiana.

Selfie I took with Amedee’s grave in December of 2017 in the Brusly cemetery.

But Belite wasn’t the only daughter of Amedee and Adele.  Not by a long shot.  She was the third daughter.  She had no older brothers, and it wasn’t until she already had seven more younger sisters when she finally had a brother.  That son was born in May of 1856 and their father died in June of 1857.  I didn’t know how Amedee died, but I did know he died after having eleven children over a period of sixteen years.  So in a previous post I joked that he died the following year from exhaustion.   Anything for laugh at the expense of poor old Amedee.

Then a couple of years later I talked about him in another post.  In that one I suggested that Adele had strangled him when he suggested they try for another son!  She could have blamed it on postpartum depression.  Not really.  That wasn’t a thing back then and if she had killed him, surely we would have heard about that.  Two weeks after that post, someone on FindaGrave shared the information that talked about Amedee’s death.  It’s like they were trying to help me out, but I just didn’t notice.

July 8, 1857, newspaper article about Amedee’s death. The Daily Advocate of Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

And now I have.  No more jokes in bad taste about his death.  You can see from the article that he had a tragic death.  It says that he is an old citizen of the parish, but he was only 41 years old at the time of his death.  That’s not old at all.

He lived in Brusly on a plantation on the Mississippi River at the time of his death.  He didn’t own much land, but he worked in combination with Joseph Auguste Leveque, who owned a considerable amount more.  Joseph Auguste was his mother’s (Marie Francoise Leveque) younger brother.  Not only that, at the time he was married to Adele’s younger sister Marguerite Landry.  His first wife had been Adele and Marguerite’s older sister Doralise.  Marguerite married Josephe Auguste after Doralise’s death.  I descend from the second marriage.

The plantation he lived on was to the west of the Mississippi River, and on the other side it led into a marshy area that was formed by Bayou Choctaw.  According to the article, Amedee had gone hunting one Saturday trying to score a deer.  It was probably something he had done all his life.  He was a Cajun living along the bayous of Southern Louisiana.  And usually when you find a deer hunter, they started hunting at a young age and have a passion for it.  They know about guns and ammunition, and in the place that he was living, they would know about boats as well.

But this time something different had happened.  The article doesn’t exactly say all of the details of what went wrong, yet we know that something went tragically wrong.  The 41-year-old father of ten young children drowned in Bayou Choctaw.  Was he alone when it happened?  Were there any hints of foul play?  It doesn’t say.  It just says that his body was recovered the following day and brought to Brusly for interment.  Traditionally that means burying somebody in the ground, but that last statement makes me question that assumption.  “Peace to his ashes.”  Does that mean he was cremated?  I don’t think so.  I think he was buried in that grave in Brusly.

That must have been a terrible shock for Adele, Belite, and the rest of the family.  Belite was a young teenage girl of 13 at the time of her father’s death.  The only grandfather she knew – Emmanuel Landry – had died three years earlier.  She had never known her Bujol grandfather.  Joseph Sylvestre Bujol had died in 1824 at the age of 36.  I don’t know how he died, and I will refrain from saying anything flippant about his death.  I’ll have to see if I can find anything more about any details. 

Belite still had her mom and her grandmother Francoise Leveque Bujol.  I suppose she also had her grandmother’s brother who was her uncle Joseph Auguste and her neighbor as well.  He seemed to play a big part in their lives.  He helped Adele with settling Amedee’s succession.  Their extended family was nearby and I’m sure they were supportive of one another.  It was a Landry family after all!

1850 Brusly Census page shows some family. It starts in the middle of the page with Adele’s parents Emmanuel and Celeste Landry, followed by Amedee and Adele’s family, then the family of Joseph Auguste Leveque and (Marguerite) Basilde Landry Leveque, and lastly Manette Bujol’s household. Manette was another name for Marie Francoise Leveque Bujol.

 

Pappy Was a Pitcher

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March 1915 – tryouts for the Texas League Beaumont Oilers. Rob Landry is standing on the right in a dark sweater.

I shared this photo ten years ago, but I think it’s time to look at it again.  It’s such a great old baseball photo and it happens to also be a great photo of my grandfather Robert Joseph “Rob” Landry, Sr.  Of course, he hadn’t acquired the Sr. addition to his name.  He wasn’t even married yet!  He turned 22 in January of 1915, and at the time he must have been quite interested in baseball.

I remember hearing that my Pee Paw had been a semi-professional baseball player when he was young.  He died before I was born, so it was one of the things I knew about a man I had never met.  I remember seeing photos of him during World War I.  Those were taken in 1917 and 1918.  But I don’t remember seeing any of the photos of him during his baseball playing days.

The back of the photo shows names and a date. Next to that are the rosters of the 1914 and 1915 teams of the Beaumont Oilers.

In 1915 it looks like he was trying to see if he could get into more serious baseball playing.  He lived in Westlake, Louisiana, at the time.  Maybe Beaumont, Texas, was the closest place with a serious baseball team.  All I know is that I got this photo from my dad back in 2016 and it was a great photo of a young Rob with a baseball team.  Best of all was that it had the date, the group name, and the names of the players written on the back of it!

Actually, it has just the initials for the first name and their last names.  Wait!  No, it doesn’t. LOL It just has their last names, and after that are abbreviations for their positions.  Now, after 10 years I finally figured it out.  I was thinking the P. after Landry was verification that he had been called Pappy back in 1915.  No!  It stands for pitcher!  I was wondering why the initials didn’t match the first names given on the rosters.

As you can see, some of the names on the back of the photo are a match to the team rosters from 1914 and/or 1915.  Those are the ones who successfully made it through the tryouts and played on the team.  If you read the text on the roster, there is an asterisk * to indicate those people on the roster that played in the majors. Then there are some names that aren’t on either list.  Those are the ones that didn’t make it onto the team.  The semi-professional team.  

The only photo I have of Pee Paw with a semi-professional baseball team is a photo from a 1915 tryout for the Beaumont Oilers.  He wasn’t on the team in 1914, 1915, or any other year as far as I can tell.  If he had been on some other semi-professional baseball team, wouldn’t we have a photo of that?  I never met my grandfather, so I don’t know if he ever said that he was a semi-professional baseball player.  Maybe it was other family members who slightly exaggerated a minor detail.  

There are several photos of him playing baseball through those early years.  There is even a newspaper article about him playing for the Sawdust Baseball Circuit.  I don’t think that was considered semi-professional, but it was something.  They said he was a great pitcher until his arm went dead.  But even after that, he was able to pitch a winning game in 1920 for a Marksville vs Lake Charles game.  It was the end of his baseball glory days.  He then became a husband, father, and grandfather.  From what I can tell, he was pretty good at that, too.

50 Years Ago at Shakey’s

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Bob, Karen, Van, Al, Jamie, and Betty Lou Landry at Shakey’s on June 17, 1976, in Lake Charles, Louisiana.

Can it really be fifty years ago that our family started playing at the Shakey’s Pizza Parlor in Lake Charles, Louisiana?  The numbers add up, but it doesn’t feel that way.  Our first night there was on June 16, 1976.  We don’t have a photo from that first night we played, but we did take a few photos on the second night.  

I’ve shared this photo before and I have it dated from June 17, 1976.  I also said that the song we were playing is “(I Like) Mountain Music.”  That makes sense, because it was one of the few songs that Jamie would play on the jug.  No, she was not taking a swig of whiskey while we played a song.  She was blowing or puffing or whatever she did to make that jug sing.

But that first night at Shakey’s followed years of “preparation” in the Landry household.  My dad – Bob Landry – was a band director and choral instructor from before I was born.  And my mom loved music, too.  I think it was her desire to have a family band that led to us singing at ye old pizza joint.  She would play the piano often and sing along.  Of course, we would always follow suit.  If we weren’t singing it quite right, she would correct us and encourage us to match the pitch that she would repeat for us.

Bob, Jodie, and Rob Landry at Shakey’s in December of 1978.

When you grow up in a family with music, you just go along with it and learn how to play musical instruments as well.  I never questioned it.  It seemed like the natural thing to do.  We went to my dad’s summer band program every year and sang and played with the older kids.  We thought we were special!  We’d learn the ukulele first, then move on to guitar and bass.  Then when we were in junior high school, it was time to learn a wind instrument. 

Jodie was first and she chose the flute. In college she played the flute and the bass.  Rob was next.  He played trumpet. I remember him playing along with those old Chicago albums in the living room at home.  Karen got stuck on the ukulele.  Not really.  She really liked the uke and played guitar, bass, and clarinet as well.  Al went along the same path as Rob – guitar, bass, and trumpet.  To help you tell them apart, remember that Al is taller than Rob.  He’s taller than me, too.  Speaking of me, I (Van) was next.  I went with the trombone.  We already had a trombone, so we needed someone to play it.  Not really, I just thought it looked more fun than the other instruments.  It had a slide instead of valves.  Way more fun.  Jamie played the flute.  Of course, you already know that she also supplemented that with her jug skills.

First sign that we used when playing at Shakey’s in 1976.

My dad could play all of the instruments, and he liked to sing as well.  My mom – Betty Lou Bucklin Landry – was a musician as well.  She had been playing piano and singing since she was young.  In the 70s they started playing at parties and receptions and such.  It was just the two of them at that time.  Mom was playing the piano and singing, while Daddy was playing bass or guitar and singing.  On some songs he would play verse or more on the trombone.  They played a lot of old standards from the 40s and 50s.

Then, somehow, the gig at Shakey’s came up.  I think there had been a band there before.  The stage was there with an old piano.  The Shakey’s owner was Gene Fontenot, and the manager was Bill Spreafico.  Daddy had talked to one or both of them, and it was decided that we would be the entertainment on Wednesday through Saturday evenings.  It was exciting and a little scary.  We all sang and played instruments, but we weren’t used to performing like that.  And when I think about it now, we were just kids!  

When we started, Momma made a sign that said that “ye old notes” were to be played by Bob and Betty Landry “and sometimes Karen, Al, Van, and Jamie.”  Momma and Daddy would be the ones there on a regular basis, and us kids would show up when we could.  The oldest three were in college, while the younger three were in high school.  It was the youngest four who were there more often.  Since Rob and Jodie weren’t living in Lake Charles, they would only show up at special occasions.

Opening Night.   All of the years of “preparation” were finally paying off.  As the curtain rose and the spotlight focused on the stage, the Landry Family Band was ready for the big time!  No, no, no.  There was no “opening night,” no curtain, and no spotlight.  We did have a small stage that was lit up.  We set up our instruments, turned on our microphones, and started making memories.

A Patureau Visits France

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Connection for the cousins.

Technically, I am not a Patureau.  My last name is Landry.  But I’ve said previously that I am a Patureau.  My paternal grandmother’s name was Germaine Erie Patureau.  I could also say that I am a Bucklin and a Phenice.  I am a product of all of my family lines.  But it was definitely my Patureau part that got me to France.

Toward the end of last May, I got a message on LinkedIn from someone I had never heard of before.  He wrote, “Hi Van! I hope you’re well. I’m doing my genealogy research and I’m looking for the son of Robert Joseph Landry, descendant of Ferdinand Pierre Patureau, could it be you? Take care, Pierre.”  This was very intriguing to me, and also a bit suspicious.  What did this person want?  His profile said something about being an AI startup company.  Was it some phony company that had collected information on me to lure me in?

I wasn’t surprised that someone would link me to my dad and to Ferdinand Pierre Patureau.  I do a lot of research on the Patureau family, so my name would be connected to him in various places.  So why was the message sent to me on LinkedIn, where there wasn’t any connection to that?  People at work were also suspicious and warned me about people trying to steal someone’s liver!  

Home in LaRoche-Chalais, France, built by Patureau cousins.

The other thing that made me suspicious was that I had been learning French online for three years.  I have been watching YouTube channels about people restoring French chateaus for two years.  I had also just gotten my passport.  You have to have a Real ID or a passport if you want to fly anywhere, so I decided on the passport.  I had no plans to go overseas, but the passport would be there if I wanted to do that.  Was someone watching all of this?  I decided to respond to the message carefully.  I wrote back, “Yes, that is me.  What are you interested in?”  He did, after all, say that he was doing genealogy research.

He wrote back talking about Ferdinand Pierre Patureau coming to Louisiana from Dordogne, France, where he lives.  He said that his sister was Uphrosine Patureau who married Pierre Louis Tambrun.  Their father was Liobon Patureau.  This response helped me to feel less leery.  Ferdinand Pierre did come to Louisiana with his father Pierre Ferdinand Patureau in 1840.  It was Pierre Ferdinand that had a sister that I knew of as Euphrosine Tambrun.  And I knew Pierre and Euphrosine’s father as Leobon Patureau.  Mixing up that father and son and spelling the names differently showed me that I was dealing with a real person, not some AI data gatherer.

That made the next part even more interesting.  Pierre said that he lives in the family mansion in LaRoche-Chalais, which is where our Patureau ancestors lived.  I wondered if this was the family “castle” that my grandmother’s brother Rome Patureau talked about visiting during World War I.  I wrote about that three years ago and was hoping to find out where he had gone.  Pierre said that if I wanted to discover France with my loved ones that we were more than welcome to come and stay!

Pierre showing us the French Resistance flag at his place in LaRoche-Chalais on May 13, 2026.

He showed a photo of his place with a rose garden in front.  How could I resist all of that?  I started telling friends and family about it, and before I realized it, I had decided to go to France.  I’d be using that passport after all.  My sister Jamie decided that she’d like to go to France also, so we made plans to make it a long trip to Germany, Austria, and France with Jamie, her husband Allen, and myself.  We decided that May would work for all of us, and off we went.

The first part of the trip was in Germany and Austria around the Bavarian alps.  It was beautiful and charming.  The weather was cooler and we even had a light snowfall on our last morning there.  Then we made our way to France.  After a sketchy night in Bordeaux, we drove on to the Patureau homeland.  Pierre and his family were very welcoming.  The house was amazing.  It was built over a hundred years ago by his great great grandfather Charles Tambrun (I think), a second cousin to my great grandfather Max Patureau.  His grandfather was the leader for the French Resistance in the LaRoche-Chalais area.  The house had so many old books, documents, flags, and other memorabilia related to the family.

Notre Dame de l’Assomption in LaRoche-Chalais.

We went walking around the village to get a feel for the place.  We found an old graveyard and looked for any Patureau graves.  We didn’t find any.  We visited the Catholic church.  It is not the church that was in existence in the early 1800s, but the old church was in the same location.  That’s where Ferdinand was baptized in 1826, where Pierre Patureau married Rose Machet in 1820, and where Pierre was baptized in 1800.  Pierre’s parents Leobon Patureau and Jeanne Lanson were married in Bors in 1787, and a few years later they brought their family to LaRoche-Chalais.

As we walked around, we found a local boulangerie and supermarket.  We had to try out the croissants, cheeses, pate, and wine.  I got to meet the mayor of the village.  Pierre asked them about the Patureau family name, and they were going to look up some information for him.  We ended the day with a nice meal and visiting with cousins.

Riberac, France, on May 14, 2026

The next day we went driving around the countryside of rural France.  In talking to Pierre, we realized that when Pierre and Rose Machet Patureau brought their family to the US, they had been living in Riberac.  That was just a short distance from LaRoche-Chalais, so Jamie, Allen, and I decided to head that way for lunch.  On the way, we stopped and visited a nice chateau in Saint Aulaye.  All of the villages in the area are so charming.  We had lunch in Riberac, then we headed to Chalais for a tour of Chateau de Chalais.

Chateau de Chalais

Chateau de Chalais was a larger chateau than the one in Saint Aulaye.  It even had a drawbridge!  I don’t know of any connection to this chateau in the Patureau family, but I’m sure they must have been aware of it.  Many of these old chateaus and churches were originally built 800 to 900 years ago.  Some have original foundations and walls.  All of them have lots of history.  It’s fascinating.

Looking at some family history documents to prove our connection! (Pierre, Van, Pascal & Thierry)

We then hurried back to Pierre’s place, because there were other cousins wanting to meet the American branch of the family!  Pierre’s mother’s name is Florence, and she is my fifth cousin.  (Jamie’s too!)  The cousin we met was Florence’s first cousin Pascal and her husband Thierry.  We looked over some of the family history documents that I brought along.  It was mainly the marriage document for Leobon Patureau and Jeanne Lanson, our common ancestors.  I also had the birth registers for our Ferdinand Patureau and their Pierre Tambrun.  They were both born in LaRoche-Chalais.

Cousins! Back: Van, Pascal, Thierry; middle: Jamie, Pierre, Michelle; Arthur in front.

Pierre speaks English really well, as does his partner Michelle.  Of course she does, she’s from Canada and she’s lived in the United States.  Pascal and Thierry spoke a little English, which gave me an opportunity to use a bit of my French.  It forces me to try more, which is good practice.  Jamie and Allen felt a little left out of some conversations, but most of the time English was being spoken.  Little Arthur isn’t speaking yet, but I’m sure he will be fluent in both when he starts talking.

Jamie, Pierre, Van, and Allen in front of the Chateau des Plassons on May 15, 2026.

The next day was the one I was looking forward to the most.  We were going to visit the Chateau des Plassons in Bors-de-Montmoreau.  Does this sound familiar?  Probably the reason it doesn’t is because I have never mentioned it before.  Not intentionally.  I thought I had mentioned it before on several occasions.  I talk about it all of the time.  But somehow, I overlooked it in the blogs that I wrote. 

Church of Notre Dame de Bors-de-Montmoreau.

I first found out about it in 2018 when I found the 1787 marriage record for Leobon Patureau and Jeanne Lanson in the church in Bors-de-Montmoreau.  In that document it states that Leobon Patureau was a schoolmaster living in the village of Juignac, which is just north of Bors.  He was from Palluaud, where his parents were still living. 

Old bread oven at Plassons

Jeanne Lanson was living in Bors with her parents Francois Lanson and Jeanne Ivain.  Here is the interesting part – Francois is identified as the master chef at Plassons.  The main thing in Bors that is identified as Plassons is the Chateau.  In their granddaughter’s baptismal record in 1790, their son Francois fils is identified as a chef at Chateau des Plassons.  The grandfather Francois is named as godfather.  Our 5X great grandfather Francois Lanson was the master chef at this chateau.  The chateau was built in the 1500s and is still around today.

Pineau des Charentes is delicious!

One of the ways for a place to acquire the name of chateau is for it to have vineyards.  That is the case with Plassons.  It has had vineyards in the area for generations and it still does.  They produce cognac and a drink known as Pineau des Charentes.  It is a local drink that is a combination of grape juice and cognac.  There are different regions in France that give wines their specific names.  Plassons is in the Charentes area.  LaRoche-Chalais is in Dordogne, but we crossed the border when we went to Plassons.  So Pineau des Charentes can only be made in the Charentes region.  It is one of my favorite drinks, though it is somewhat difficult to get.

Tasting the goods at Plassons, with Jamie, Pierre, and Van

We went to Plassons for the tour and tasting.  The tasting took place in what I think might have been the old chateau kitchen.  In the back corner of the room was a bread oven.  Don’t ovens belong in a kitchen?  Either way, it was probably a place that old Francois was very familiar with.  I’m not sure when Francois died.  I wonder if he lived long enough to pass some of his culinary skills to his grandson Pierre Patureau.  Pierre’s profession was a baker.  If only that old bread oven could talk.

Van in Bors with Notre Dame de Bors in background

When we left Plassons, we took the road leading straight out from the front of the chateau.  That short road leads to the church called Notre Dame de Bors-de-Montmoreau.  It’s where Leobon Patureau married Jeanne Lanson.  Leobon had been a schoolteacher in a place called Juignac.  At the end of that short road at the church, you would turn left to go to Juignac.  It’s only about three miles away.  Maybe they met at the church when Leobon was teaching nearby.  There is also a bistro/bar across the street from the church, but I’m not sure how long that was there.  In any case, that was the area where they met each other and fell in love.

Church in Palluaud

But we turned right after the bistro and headed for Palluaud, which is where Leobon was from.  His parents’ names were Antoine Patureau and Marie Sicaud.  Part of the road along the way to Palluaud is called Chez Sicaud.  That means the home of the Sicauds.  This was definitely the area that our Sicaud ancestors were from!  Marie Sicaud spent her whole life there.  It’s a small little village, where the population has been less than 300 for the past fifty years.  There is a church, the mayor’s office, and a bistro all in one little area.  

The church in Palluaud was locked, so Jamie took a photo through the keyhole.

Pierre and I went into the bistro and asked if anyone knew about the name of Sicaud.  The bartender referred us to the mayor, who just happened to be there when we asked.  So we talked to the mayor of another little village that our ancestors lived.  Everyone was very friendly, but they didn’t know anything about the family Sicaud or Patureau.  I never saw a plaque or anything that mentioned the name of the church or any history about it.  It looked really old, so I’m sure it was the location that Antoine Patureau and Marie Sicaud were married in 1767.  Antoine was a surgeon back then.  In 1787 they listed him as a master surgeon.

Montboyer, France, on May 15, 2026

It was difficult to keep track of the places that our Patureau ancestors lived and worked over 200 years ago.  They moved around a lot.  They were Go Go Patureaus even back then!  I realized after the fact that I had passed through a few places where our ancestors had lived.  It’s so nice that cell phones identify the location of where photos are taken.  I did take a photo of a sign for Bazac, which is where Rose Machet’s mother lived her life.  Her name was Louise Roux, and she lived there from 1761 to 1804.  She died pretty young, so Rose was two months short of three years old when her mother died.  I never realized that before.  A better photo was of the village of Montboyer, which is where Louise Roux’s mother Marie Bonain was born in 1728.  That’s the photo I show here.

Pierre, Jamie, and Allen at the monastery in St. Emilion

There were also a few places nearby that I knew about but didn’t visit.  Beside Juignac, there was Mareuil.  It is 15 or 20 miles northeast of Bors and it was the birthplace of Rose Machet.  Her parents Louis Machet – the chapelier – and Louise Roux were married there in 1793.  We were short on time, so we headed back toward LaRoche-Chalais and visited the villages of St. Emilion and Aubeterre-sur-Dronne.  They are really charming places in the area with a bit more population.  They have great shopping with local artists and crafts people, churches, old roads and buildings, an underground church, and a monastery.  It was all very charming.

Van and Pierre – fifth cousins once removed on May 16, 2026, in LaRoche-Chalais, France

Pierre and Michelle invited us to go to a party at a local chateau on the weekend, but we had plans to go to Paris on Saturday morning.  His parents were waiting for us with our place to stay for the next few days.  It was time to say our good-byes to our newfound family.  I’m so glad that Pierre contacted me because of our Patureau connection.  I had always been curious about the areas that the Patureau family came from, but I never had the motivation to go visit.  His invitation was the motivation I needed.  The place that he lived in may not have been the “castle” that my ancestors lived in, but it was a home built by a Patureau cousin.  

The bedroom I stayed in had a bookcase full of old books and documents. So many books…so little time.

I do think that that home was the place that Rome Patureau visited during World War I.  The Patureau family was associated with LaRoche-Chalais and the family he would have visited would have been the Tambrun family.  There are no other chateaus in the area associated with the Patureau family.  In all of the old books in that house, there may be some with mention of the Patureau name written in it.  It’s going to take a while for someone to go through all of that.

Jamie, Allen, and Van on dinner cruise in Paris on May 16, 2026

Paris was next.  After such a wonderful time in southern France, I didn’t think I would like the big city.  But I was wrong.  It’s not like any other big city I’ve been in.  It is so captivating and has so many old buildings.  And on top of all of that, there was more family there!  Pierre’s parents Florence and Regis greeted us when we arrived in Paris.  They also were very warm and welcoming.  I guess we passed the test with Pierre!

Regis was really funny.  He and Florence speak English well, but not as good as Pierre.  This gave me more chance to use my French speaking.  Regis was quick to correct me and my pronunciation.  We’d be saying “ah” and “ah” back and forth to each other until I would finally get an acceptable version.  I loved it.  We didn’t have much time that first evening, because we had a dinner cruise planned.  They left to go upstairs so we could get ready for the evening.  The cruise was nice with delicious food.  The odd thing was that we were sitting next to two tables with people from Louisiana.  The guy next to me was from New Orleans and his son works for the same company that I do.  It’s a small world sometimes.  We met the cruise at the base of the Eiffel Tower, so we got to see it during the daylight and at night.  It looks much better with the sparkling lights on it.

Cousins in Paris – Van, Florence, Jamie, Diane, and Regis on May 19, 2026.

We explored Paris over the next few days, then we had a dinner at Florence and Regis’s on Tuesday night.  Not that I knew it was Tuesday.  I lost all sense of time when I was there.  Jamie did all of the planning, for which I am very grateful.  We finally got to meet their daughter Diane, who had let us use her apartment while we were in Paris.  She was very sweet, and she welcomed us warmly as the rest of the family had.

Van and Diane

Regis continued his guidance of all things associated with French words.  He said that he had looked up the etymology of the name Patureau.  In some cases, it is spelled Pastureau, which points to it being associated with fields or pastures.  The name could have derived from shepherds or dairy farmers.  Florence provided a very nice meal of several courses.  I may have made a faux pas or two.  I may have kissed her on the wrong side first.  I still can’t remember which side comes first.  Is it my left, or their left?  I also may have used one of the plates too early and I ended up short for the evening.  So many new customs to learn.  Thankfully, she seemed to take it all in stride.

Before we left Paris, we were able to get together with Diane for dinner for our last evening.  She met us after we visited Sacre Coeur.  It’s an amazing old basilica in the Montmartre part of Paris.  Diane met us at a restaurant not far from there.  We had a great meal.  She also helped me with some of my French language instruction.  She tried to help me with the rolling guttural French R.  I have never been able to roll my tongue, even though I have tried throughout my whole life.  It’s my kryptonite!  She would start like her father, with gentle repeats for me to mimic.  But then she’d say, “Ok,” in a dismissive way.  She knew I wouldn’t get it, and I did, too.  I thought it was hilarious and I couldn’t stop laughing.  I would try and it was always forced and pressured and wrong.  It would just roll off the back of her tongue so easily.  Oh, well.

Van, Jamie, and Allen at Moulin Rouge on May 20, 2026

After dinner, we went outside and looked down the street.  I noticed some lights and asked what they were.  Diane said that we had to go to see.  It was Moulin Rouge.  I definitely wanted to go see that.  Besides The Sound of Music, it’s one of the musicals I like.  As we walked down the street, we saw some more risqué parts of the city.  I didn’t notice any of those places during the day.  I thought I might be misremembering that, but I wasn’t.  It’s just down the way from Sacre Coeur.  We took a few photos in front of Moulin Rouge, then took the metro home.  We worked on pronouncing the names of the stops as we went along.  As long as the R was not involved, I did fine.  I even got a “perfect” from Diane.  I was very proud.  (I can’t say that in French because it has Rs in it!)

The next day we said our goodbyes to Paris and headed to Germany.  I couldn’t have had a better time with the family we met in France.  None of us knew what to expect.  After all, we had never met each other before we headed across the world to see them.  But we allowed ourselves to trust that they were family and things would work out.  And they did.  I hope to see them again, either here in America or in France.  Or both!

6 Kids at 6 Flags in ’66

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The Landry family at Six Flags Over Texas in 1966.

I was planning on calling this post “On Vacation” or as the French would say, “En Vacances.”  But then I was looking at those six singing siblings sitting on shiny seats at Six Flags in 1966, and I had to change it.  I’ve been thinking of a big vacation trip lately, and the big trip for the Landry family back then was Six Flags Over Texas in Arlington, Texas.

We would all pile into the station wagon we had at the time and drive west toward a completely different state.  Of course, we’d play games like I Spy or Stink Pink.  Or we’d make up stupid jokes about tunas or elephants.  Sometimes we’d make the peace sign for the people in the cars behind us.  Then if they would do it back, we’d turn the peace sign into an imaginary slingshot.  We thought we were so funny.

It seemed like such a long drive back then, but it was only a few hours.  After we arrived, we’d find the campground and set up the tents.  That’s right!  We camped on the grounds at Six Flags.  We weren’t the only ones.  It’s not like we were camping on the parking lot.  I’m pretty sure it was campgrounds located at the park.  I could be wrong and it was just nearby.  Whatever the case, we’d set up two tents for the family.  One for the boys and one for the girls.  There were public restrooms where we could shower and get ready for a fun day at the theme park.

We did that camping thing at Six Flags for a few years.  Not continuously, of course.  We had to be in Jennings (Louisiana) for most of the summer so we could go to our dad’s summer band program at Northside Junior High.  Besides the grand excursions to Texas for the summers, the summer band program was the highlight.  I need to identify everyone in the photo for you in case you don’t know.  I don’t know who the person in the front seat is.  We just sat behind her and minded our own business.  The second seat has the oldest and youngest of the six siblings.  Jodie is on the left and Jamie is on the right.  On the next seat is me (Van), my mom Betty Lou Bucklin Landry, and sister Karen.  At the back of the train are Al and Rob.

So off on vacation I go.  Besides taking a break from work, I’ll be taking a break from this weekly blog.  I’m not going to Six Flags, but there will be different flags to represent the places I’m going.  A bientôt!

Keys Family Reunion 2026

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It’s time for another get together with your Keys relatives!  At least it is for the Keys family that I belong to.  We’ve gotten back into the good habit of meeting together every two years at a somewhat central location.  It’s happening on June 20 at the Catholic Church in Raymond, Louisiana.  That’s in Jefferson Davis Parish, if that helps.  It will be from 10:00 am to 2:00 pm.  Two hours either side of noon.  Everyone brings tasty food and drink for all to indulge in.  I don’t know all the particulars as far as what kinds of activities will take place, but it is always enjoyable.  I enjoy seeing family members from near and far.

Henry Alfred “The Judge”, Leonard, Daisy Keys Phenice, Ruth Keys Bryan, and Mabel Keys Miller came from England in 1887 with their mother Marha Ann Cook Keys.

It’s held in Raymond because that’s the area that the first generation of the Keys family lived after they immigrated to the United States from England in 1887.  The matriarch of the family was the widow Martha Cook Keys.  Her husband Henry Keys died in 1886 when they were discussing the possibility of moving to America.  After Henry’s death, she decided to follow through with the plan.  She moved her five children to southern Louisiana where her uncle William Horsnell lived.  With the help of friends and neighbors, a house was built and they were made to feel welcome in the hamlet of Hathaway.

Martha had some heart issues which ultimately led to her death in 1896 at the age of 59.  None of her grandchildren had been born yet.  In fact, none of her children had even gotten married.  That changed a few years later when Daisy married Harry Clifton Phenice in 1900 in Lake Charles, Louisiana.  They settled in Hathaway and had seven children, including my mom’s mom Myrtle Phenice Bucklin.  One of the reasons I wrote this blog today was because of a milestone anniversary earlier this week.  On Monday (April 20, 2026), it was the 150th anniversary of the birth of Daisy.  My niece Alex shares that birthday.

Ruth was the next to marry.  She married Bert Bryan in 1901 in Jennings.  They had six children together and lived in Raymond Louisiana.  They later lived in Jennings.  Our family moved to Jennings in 1963, but I don’t think I ever met her.  I have a vague memory of a family member dying back then at a nursing home in Jennings.  My great grandmother died there, but it was in 1952.  I wasn’t around then.  Ruth died in 1967 in Jennings.  I may have confused the two deaths after hearing about Daisy dying at a nursing home.

Henry Alfred “The Judge” married Eugenia LaFosse in 1902 in Jennings.  They settled in Kinder, Louisiana, which is just a few miles west of the Raymond/Hathaway area.  They had a dozen children altogether.  With all of those children, I’m sure some of their descendants are still in the Kinder area.  It would be good to have some of them come to the reunion this year.  Leonard married Edessa Havenar in 1907 in Raymond.  They settled in Elton, Louisiana, and they had five children together.  I always mention family historian Edith Keys Segraves when talking about this family.  I also want to mention Edward Russell Keys.  He was in the military during World War II.  He was killed in action at D-Day in 1944.

The last to get married was the youngest.  Mabel married Abraham Miller in 1910 in China, Louisiana. China, Hathaway, and Raymond are all parts of the same community in Jefferson Davis Parish.  Mabel and Abraham settled in Kinder, and they had four sons together.  So like I said at the beginning of the post, the first generation lived around Raymond/Hathaway.  Daisy and Ruth lived there for some time.  Ruth moved around ten miles south to Jennings.  Mabel was about ten miles north in Elton, while The Judge and Mabel lived fifteen or so miles west in Kinder.  They were not too far spread out at that time.

The descendants are spread out all over the country now.  But they’re still invited to come to the reunion.  Make plans now!  Come visit a spell with the family.

Marie Celeste Circa 1926

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Marie Celeste Leveque (on the right) with her niece Amanda Leveque circa 1926

I figure it’s time to write about my Landry paternal line of the family.  I can’t go back as many generations with this line because the generations are spread out further than my other family lines.  In all of the other lines I have photos of my great great grandparents.  But in this line, I don’t have photos of Narcisse Landry and Marie Carmelite Hebert Landry.  Carmelite died in 1856 at the age of 54, and Narcisse died in 1876 at the age of 80.  I haven’t given up hope that there is a photo of Narcisse, but I haven’t been able to locate one.  Photos were being taken by 1876.

Narcisse and Carmelite were married in St. Gabriel in 1819, but soon after moved to Brusly to live.  I descend from two of their sons.  They had eight children in total.  Let me go ahead and name them for you.  Their oldest child was Marie Irma Landry who was born in 1821.  She married Francois Joseph Bujol in 1845.  His mother was Marie Francoise Leveque. The second child of Narcisse and Carmelite was Pierre Belisaire Landry, born in 1824.  In 1851 he married Marie Marguerite “Lise” Leveque, daughter of Joseph August Leveque.  Joseph August and Marie Francoise were Leveque siblings.

The third child of Narcisse and Carmelite was born in 1826 and her name was Victorine.  She married Jacques Molaison in 1843.  He had mostly French ancestry with some Acadian ancestry as well. Joseph Amedee Landry was the fourth child of Narcisse and Carmelite.  He was born in 1828, and in 1850 he married Desire Landry.  I’m not sure if her maiden name was Landry or not.  After Amedee came Elizabeth Adele Landry born in 1831.  She married Sylvanie Bourg in 1851.  Their descendants show up as strong DNA matches to me.  Following Elizabeth Adele is Marguerite Josephine who was born in 1834.  She married Simon Octave Rivet in 1860.  For some reason, I have no DNA matches from their descendants.

The last two children of Narcisse and Carmelite are the ones that I descend from.  Jean Trasimond Landry was born in 1839, and he married Marie Amelie “Belite” Bujol in 1867.  She was the niece of Francois Joseph Bujol, the husband of Trasimond’s sister.  But more importantly, she was the daughter of Anna Adele Landry, who was a half first cousin of Trasimond.  Adele and Trasimond had a common grandfather – Joseph Ignace Landry.  And lastly, Simon Joseph Alcide Landry was born in 1845.  Carmelite was twice as old as she was when she had her first child.  She became a grandmother that same year when daughter Victorine gave birth that December.  Alcide married Marie Celeste Leveque in 1868.  Marie Celeste was the half-sister of Lise Leveque through their father.  Their mothers – Clarissa and Marguerite Basilite Landry were sisters of Anna Adele Landry.

I wasn’t planning on writing all of this information when I picked out this photo of Marie Celeste tonight.  I ended up talking about Alcide’s family.  Like I said, I don’t have photos of his parents.  On top of that, I only have two photos of Alcide.  He must have avoided the camera.  But Celeste was not as put off by it.  I’m glad of that.  I have many photos of her.  As a matter of fact, I have three photos of her with the other person in this photo.  Her name was Amanda Leveque, and she was the daughter of Celeste’s sister Evaline. 

Evaline was married to Jean Baptiste Andre Leveque.  According to notes given by Mee Maw (Germaine Erie Patureau Landry), Evaline and J.B.A Leveque were cousins.  My ancestors may have married their cousins, but at least they never married one with the same last name.  The relationship I have for Evaline and J.B.A Leveque is questionable.  If they were first cousins, their fathers would be brothers that were born the same year.  That seems unlikely.  Plus I haven’t found official records proving the relationship.  But that’s okay.  We’re just looking at Celeste with one of her favorite nieces.  Why else would she have three photos showing them together?   I’m calling it.  This is Celeste Leveque Landry with her favorite niece Amanda Leveque.  And I’m sure that Celeste was Amanda’s favorite aunt.  What’s not to love about Grandma Celeste?

Bucklin Cousins at Easter 1966

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Bucklin cousins at Easter of 1966. Taken in Lafayette, Louisiana, on April 8, 1966.

I was tempted to call this post “My Sixth Advent” as a follow up to a post from five years ago.  That’s when I had a dream and someone told me to tell them about my fifth Advent.  In the dream I knew that they were talking about my fifth Easter.  As I said back then, I know that Lent comes before Easter and Advent comes before Christmas.  I knew what they were talking about because it was in my dream.  In my post I said that I didn’t have any photos from my sixth Advent, which would translate to Easter of 1966.  Actually, I don’t have a photo to prove what I was talking about in that post, but I do have a photo from that Easter sixty years ago, and that’s what I’m sharing today.

I decided to not be too confusing with the title, so I went with “Bucklin Cousins at Easter 1966.”  The funny thing about that is that nobody in the photo has the last name Bucklin.  But all of our moms were daughters of Fred and Myrtle Phenice Bucklin from Hathaway, Louisiana.  Specifically, only the first three daughters are represented in this photo.  That would be Sylvia Bucklin born in 1931, Betty Lou Bucklin born in 1933, and Alma Bucklin born in 1935.  They had a younger sister named Loris born in 1937 and a younger brother named Austin born in 1942.  Loris and her husband Ernest Woolley had their three sons by this point, but they aren’t in this photo.  Austin and Aunt Margaret would start their family a few months later.

It’s not the best photo, because it is a bit blurry.  But it’s a great photo because we were just cute young kids on April 8, 1966.  It’s got all six of us Landry kids, three of the five Pilcher kids, and one of the two Seal kids.  It was taken at the home of Sylvia and Ronald Pilcher in Lafayette, Louisiana.  They lived on Leonpacher Drive.  I remember walking down their road on some of our visits and I remember it being a somewhat rural area at the time.  I haven’t been there in years.  My mom was Betty Lou Bucklin Landry and my dad was Bob Landry.  We lived in Jennings at the time, so it wasn’t very far of a drive for us to visit.  Aunt Alma and her husband Chuck Seal lived in Florida, so they had a longer drive to make.

I will use the numbering system similar to the Borg from Star Trek.  Although the Borg were not known by the Star Trek universe of 1966.  It was much more associated with the Starship Enterprise, which was, by the way, built by one of my mom’s Bucklin first cousins.  His name was Mel Keys.  He, too, had a Bucklin mother.  So, the Landry children will have the designation L, followed by their birth order, and end with “of 6” since that’s how many there were of us. 

On the first row we have Rob L2 of 6, Van L5 of 6, Jamie L6 of 6, Kevin P5 of 5, and Rhonda S1 of 2.  Kneeling down behind them are Al L4 of 6, Toni P3 of 5, Jodie L1 of 6, Karen L3 of 6, and Lynn P4 of 5.   That looks kinda weird, but it does show you who everyone belongs to.  I’ve considered changing it, but as you can see, I haven’t.  And I won’t, because I’m stubborn like that.  As you should be able to tell, P1, P2, and S2 are missing.  Hopefully, they were having a fun time looking for Easter eggs or eating some Easter candy.

I wasn’t going to mention my mom’s Easter poem, but then I considered changing my mind.  And I did, because I’m stubborn like that, too.  Here is the poem she wrote long ago.

 

                  Betty Lou’s Easter Poem

That crummy, dummy Easter Bunny left no eggs for me.

That crummy, dummy Easter Bunny hopped right by with glee.

I tracked him to my neighbor’s house and stood outside his door,

and when I saw that Bunny head, I knocked it to the floor.

I tied up all his whiskers and macraméd his ears.

I sat down in my rocking chair and drank three beers.

A Clearer Photo of Belite

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I couldn’t think of anything to write about tonight.  Earlier I had an idea about posting a second photo of our family at NASA in 1969, since they just launched a manned spaceship to fly around the moon for the first time in over fifty years.  But when I got back home, I realized I had already posted that second photo.  So I jettisoned that idea.  When Chuck saw me struggling for an idea, he suggested I revisit a post from ten years ago.  That sounded fine to me.  I looked back ten years ago to the beginning of April, and I saw an old photo of my great great grandmother Marie Amelie “Belite” Bujol Landry Babin.

I couldn’t use that one, because I had only recently updated that photo with a newer version that I got from Box 301 in June of 2024.  At least I thought I had.  When I searched through the photos of Belite on my blog, there wasn’t a post with the new photo.  I had already edited the photo nicely and thought about posting it many times.  But evidently, I never did post it.  It’s a good thing I can search through my posts rather easily, because obviously I can’t remember every detail of every post I’ve written.  That’s actually one of the main reasons I write them, because I know I can’t remember all of the details that I discover.  And soon I need to get serious about putting some books together.

Marie Amelie “Belite” Bujol circa 1915.

This is the new and improved version of the old photo of Grandma Belite.  I’ve had three versions of the photo.  The first one I had must have been a Xerox copy of the old photo.  The second version was a washed-out looking scan with small, splattered spots across part of her face.  Those are hard to remove and keep the face looking accurate.  The end result was pretty good, but there weren’t as many details as there are on the newest version.

The newest version is so much better because I was able to scan an original old photo from Box 301.  That was an old box full of treasures stored in my Aunt Wana’s house.  Look at the details on this one.  You can see the wrinkles around her eyes and on her forehead.  The shape of her mouth is much clearer as well.  Both of her shoulders show up on this version of the cropped photo.  I had created a shoulder on the left side of the old photo to try to balance it.  It always looked fake to me, but the photo was unbalanced without it.  

You can also tell that she has either buttons or pinheads on her collar.  With all of the scratches and spots on the older photos, I got rid of them because I thought they didn’t belong there.  This photo shows that they did belong there.  It also shows her hair clearer.  You can see the gray hairs mixed in with the darker ones.  You can also see that her hair is not draping down her back.  It must be up in a bun, and behind her there is a shadow on the wall that at first glance looks like hair on her shoulder and back.  You can also see more details in the cloth of her clothes.  It is a much better photo all around.

Trasimond Landry circa 1861 in Brusly, Louisiana.

I still wonder what she looked like when she was younger.  In a description in a book about the Civil War, she was referred to as one of the beautiful daughters of the Veuve Bujol.  That would be Anne Adele Landry, the widow of Amedee Bujol.  Amedee had died in 1857, and Adele died in 1899.  Soon after the Civil War, Belite married the Brusly war hero Trasimond Landry.  Trasimond and Adele were half first cousins.  They had a common grandfather – Joseph Ignace Landry.  I only have one photo of Trasimond, and it is from 1861 when he joined the military.  He was just a young man.  He and Belite were married in1867 and I have never seen a photo of the wedding.  

So, I have several photos of Belite when she was older and only one of Trasimond when he was young.  But the technology of reverse-aging photos is just starting.  Now, it usually takes one photo and shows an interpretation of that photo with the person at a younger age.  Soon, it will take into account several photos of the person to get more accurate estimate of what that person would have looked like at a younger age.  Then I would be able to create a wedding photo of Trasimond and Belite!  Would that be wrong?  My answer is, “Yes, it is, but I’d still like to see it!”  

In the meantime, I’d prefer it if an old forgotten photo of that wedding would be discovered in someone’s attic.  It could happen.  Just look at this photo.

8 Years, 4 Months, & 16 Days From Home

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Two weeks ago, I wrote a recap of the 10 years since I had discovered my Mooney Irish connection.  Then with St. Patrick’s Day happening five days later, I was thinking about my other Irish connections.  It was the McCullough family history that I was thinking of.  I found out about that family connection two years ago.  I even posted a short blurb that mentions an event that happened many years ago that is very interesting and tragic.

Photo of Cathrine Jane Foster Phenice and her daughter Emma Phenice in 1890 in Nebraska. Her ancestors are the subject of this story.

The connection comes through my mom’s maternal grandfather.  My mom was Betty Lou Bucklin Landry, her mother was Myrtle Phenice Bucklin, and Myrtle’s father was Harry Clifton Phenice.  HC’s mom was Cathrine Jane Foster Phenice.  Her ancestry was undiscovered for many years.  I made that exciting breakthrough in 2019, and I keep finding more interesting information about her family lines.  The story I’m talking about today comes through her father Morris Foster’s line.  His parents were Hugh Foster and Mary Elizabeth McCullough.  Mary Elizabeth’s parents were James McCullough and Martha Hance. 

James was born in 1720 in Belfast, Ireland, according to the writings in his journal.  Yes, he wrote in a journal, and the information has been saved through the years.  I have not seen it yet, but I would really like to one day.  Martha was born around the same time and probably in the same area.  How else would they end up married and immigrating to the North American colonies together in 1745?  They were ready to start an exciting new life in the New World.  They ended up settling in New Castle, which was in the colony of Delaware.

They had their first child, a daughter named Jean, about a year or so after arriving.  Their next child was John, who was born on May 27, 1748.  We know his exact date because it was written in his father’s journal.  It would have been nice if he had written all of his children’s names.  I guess I’ll just have to settle for what I get.  The family relocated at some point after John’s birth.  They moved 162 miles west into the interior of the Pennsylvania in what is now known as Franklin.  At that point in time, the further west you went, the wilder the territory.

In 1750 their third child was born.  That would be my ancestor, Mary Elizabeth.  She was followed the next year by a son that was called James.  He was born on June 11, 1751.  I will now refer to the older James as James I.  The last of the children was a son named Hance who was born around 1755.  Maybe James I wrote the birth dates of John and James because they were the central figures in the story that is infamous in the McCullough family.

It all started on July 26, 1756.  The McCullough family woke up and did the things they normally did every morning.  They probably got dressed, ate some breakfast, and talked about what they would do that day.  Nothing forewarned them of anything untoward coming their way.  They were growing flax and it was time to start preparing for harvest.  It was a family event, and they all went into the fields to start their work.  At some point 8-year-old John and 5-year-old James wandered off.  Martha might have seen them heading off and thought nothing of it.  Boys will be boys.  But not this time.

John and James walked down the road from their house like they had probably done hundreds of times.  They weren’t concerned with how far they walked, as long as they were back for their next meal.  One of them would not taste a home-cooked meal from his mother ever again.  As they were walking, their neighbor Mr. Allen – John Allen- stopped them to warn them of danger.  A White man in the community had been killed by an Indian of the Delaware tribe.  He told them to hurry home and let the rest of the family know of the danger.

John Allen must have hightailed it back the other way to warn other neighbors of the shocking news.  The two boys were alone again, and they ran toward their house to warn everyone else.  They didn’t make.  Just 50 yards from the house, they were accosted by five members of the Delaware tribe and a Frenchman.  The boys fought and screamed to try to get away, but to no avail.  Their family didn’t hear them and were unaware of what was happening.  The boys were tied up.  As John was forced to walk west for the remainder of the day, James was carried by the French and Indian captors.

This all occurred during the time of the French and Indian War.  At least that’s what it was known by the British colonies.  In French territories, like Acadie, it was known as the Seven Year War.  It was a huge war between the two superpowers – France and England.  I’ve discussed it before because that’s when England Exiled the Acadian people from their homes.  But it led to other hostilities as well – killings, scalpings, and abductions.  When I wrote those other posts, the French were the good guys.  This time, the Frenchman is one of the bad guys.  It’s all a matter of perspective.

Back to the kidnapping.  I’m sure later that day Martha and James I must have heard about the killing of the White man in the community.  Had they already started to worry about John and James?  If not, they would have started in earnest when they heard the news.  Were their babies dead?  Or would they ever see them again?  It’s hard to imagine what they went through.  Perhaps Martha decided the best way to deal with it was to take one day at a time.  “Day one,” she whispered to herself with a shaking breath.

John and James continued west with their abductors the next day.  John thought that he was going to be killed at different points, like when they threw him in cold water.  But they didn’t.  They plucked the boys’ hair and painted their skin red.  They reached Fort Duquesne, which was a French fort.  At this time, the boys were separated.  John continued further west with the Delaware, and he never knew what became of his brother.  Meanwhile, back at home, Martha was unaware of what was happening with her boys.  She continued her counting, “Day two.”

John was taken to northwestern Pennsylvania and left with a Delaware Indian family and given the name Istenggowehhing.  They would treat him as part of the family, and he would call them aunt and uncle. He learned their ways and their language, and learned to like their way of life.  It is thought that he was taken as a replacement for a son that they had lost.  Meanwhile, back at the McCullough household, Martha kept up her counting:  One week… one month …six months.

“One year,” she whispered in wonder.  “How did I survive this worrying year?”  Yet, the years moved on.  “Two years.”  “Three years.”  “Four years.”  Then at five long years, some promising news was heard.  Somehow someone that knew John had seen him with his Indian family and recognized him.  They told James I and Martha where he was.  It was a pretty long journey, but I’m sure his parents didn’t think twice about making the trip.  At least they’d have their John back!  James I decided to make the trip to Northern Pennsylvania, while Martha stayed home with the children.  The excitement was palpable!

James made his way north and finally reached the home of the Delaware people that had his son.  But by that time John no longer was familiar with the English language and had grown accustomed to his new home.  Imagine his father’s shock and surprise when John refused to go with him!  James I insisted and began the journey back to their home with his son.  He even tied John’s legs at the bottom of a horse to prevent him from running away.  It was of no use.  John escaped and went into the woods to hide until his father gave up and returned home.  Then John went back to his Indian family that he was familiar with.

Martha didn’t know when James I would return with their son, but she was waiting happily.  As she went to bed she whispered “5 years, 2 months, 18 days” with more excitement than dread.  Soon her counting for John would be over!  The next day James I came home – alone.  They just stared at each other for a long time as tears slowly ran down their faces.  As they embraced, he explained, “He didn’t want to come back.  I tried…I tried so hard.  He didn’t want to come.  He ran off.”  That was a difficult day.  That night when Martha whispered, “5 years, 2 months, 19 days,” it felt as raw as Day One.

Time passed.  “5 years, 6 months.”  “6 years.”  “7 years.” “8 years.”  Things were changing.  The French and Indian War was over.  The animosity between the two sides had settle down a bit.  Cooperation between groups was starting to happen.  One of those things was working with getting abducted children back to their original families.  There was a Colonel Bouquet who worked on that issue and was able to obtain the release of several individuals, including John McCullough.  Finally, John was reunited with his overjoyed parents.  When someone commented on how difficult it was to wait 8 years without knowing when it would end, Martha corrected them by saying, “8 years, 4 months, and 16 days.”  She said it again as she turned to her son and welcomed him into her arms.

John may not have appreciated this woman talking English (with an Irish accent) and wrapping him in her arms at first.  Or maybe he remembered his mom.  He was now 16 years old and almost an adult.  He adjusted to being back among his family and relearned the English language.  After a while he knew what his mom meant when she would say, “8 years, 4 months, and 16 days.”  It was a reminder of the time that was stolen from her.  John would grow up and marry, yet he stayed on family land.

Though I wonder if Martha’s counting continued.  Her son James was never heard from again.  There was “9 years.”  Then “10 years” and “20 years.”  At 23 years, 4 months, and 6 days, her daughter Mary Elizabeth gave birth to her first child and named him James.  Martha was pleased to know that she wasn’t the only one that thought of The Stolen One.   If the counting continued for her boy James, Martha’s last thought could have been, “30 years, 1 month, and 19 days.”

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