Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

Listening to cyclists' stories about their first long or difficult rides, I often hear things like "Afterward, I wanted to throw my bike away" or "The next day, I couldn't even look at my bike."





It always struck me as interesting how the feelings of pain and exhaustion caused by riding can become associated with the bike itself. In a sense, it is easier to think of the bike, a concrete object, as the source of our discomfort than it is of a deficiency in fitness or endurance on our part.We look at the bike and remember how we felt during that hard ride.It's not so much that we literally blame the bicycle, as that the bike becomesa signifier of the pain and exhaustion we experienced. That feeling of wanting to throw it out, or not wanting to look at it, is a way of dealing with frustration over our own limitations.And of course this is in addition to the possibility that the bike itself is at least partly to blame - be it through saddle discomfort, harshness of ride, inappropriate gearing, or bad positioning.



If only mildly, I have had my share of all this. I've overdone it before, to the point of fatigue at the mere sight of a bike that only time away from it could cure.



But I am thinking of this now, because more recently I've experienced something of the opposite. Still feeling battered and drained after an especially tough ride, the morning after I walked past the bike and thought about how much I loved it, and about how much I loved cycling. It was an unexpected reaction, having tumbled out of bed feeling as if a train had run over me. After a day of passion and heartbreak, it feels good to still love it all, and to want to ride again tomorrow.

Interlude...

Saturday, September 17th - - After leaving Yellowstone National Park I traveled toward the small town in southwest Montana where I stayed for most of July last year. It looks much different here now than it did then – the “hills” are mostly brown providing quite a contrast between the lush, green areas that are irrigated or those along the rivers, which are lined with trees. The weather has been rather nice with lots of sunshine but the skies have mostly been the “hazy-white” variety, which isn't conducive to obtaining “pretty” pictures of the scenery.





I've been here almost two weeks and have been taking advantage of the time to “catch up” on blog reading and writing, a little research (very little), and going through the pictures I've taken this year. Much of my time has been consumed/absorbed with work on the netbook. So much so that I feel like I've been sucked into the vortex of the computer, which is a never-ending cycle!



As mentioned in a previous post, I've been looking for a new camera and hadn't had much luck with finding one in stock. The stores had the ones I was interested in on display but didn't have them available to purchase. I finally gave up going to a “brick and mortar” store and bought one online! I went with the Nikon P500. The other camera that I was looking at was the Canon SX30. They both have similar features but the Nikon just “felt good” in my hands. It arrived a little over a week ago and I've been having some fun playing with it and learning some of its features. It will take some practice to get used to what it can do; it's amazing to me what all they've packed into this thing!



After the camera arrived and it took five hours to charge the battery in the camera, I realized I would need another battery and an external charger. Those were ordered and arrived here on Tuesday. It still takes about 2 ½ hours to charge a battery but that is better than 5 in the camera!



One of the things that I really wish came with the camera is a printed manual, but nowadays that is not likely to happen. The pdf manual comes on a CD and it's easy to find what you are looking for, but it's just a little difficult to look things up when you are “out in the field” using the camera!



So far, I'm quite happy with the camera.

Unfinished Business at Chiricahua

Just in case you might not have noticed, I was fascinated with Chiricahua National Monument and its myriad stone formations. Having spent four days there in mid-March and going away without having attempted the longer trails, I “had” to return to complete them. Besides, it really is a nice place, one of my favorites thus far.

Except for that first day, the weather for the remainder of my second stay at Chiricahua couldn't have been better. Daytime temperatures were in the mid-70s and at night it didn't fall below 40. I had blue skies and sunshine for the next five days (April 24th through the 28th).

The Natural Bridge Trail, is 2.4 miles long. You return on the same trail you went out on, thus the round-trip is 4.8 miles. It takes you up through a canyon, down the other side, and around to another canyon. It is an up-and-down trail, relatively easy walking, with sand and rocks, but some level stretches also.

When you get into the other canyon you are taken through a forest of pine trees and then up a short distance on the canyon walls. The destination, the Natural Bridge, is somewhat underwhelming. It is quite a ways away across the canyon. Still, it is quite a nice hike. You get some good views of the desert floor below and other mountains in the distance as well as of many weird stone formations and the occasional desert flower.

These fellas greeted me as I walked to the trailhead of the Natural Bridge Trail. They really weren't all that friendly though, they didn't say a word as I walked by, just glared silently!

The desert and another range of mountains off in the distance. The trail went through the forest of trees to the left after descending into a second canyon.

Can you see the Natural Bridge? It's there in the middle, right below those clouds. Really.

Okay, here's a close-up view... it is still underwhelming.

Beautiful Cactus Flowers. The only ones I saw on the trail (or anywhere else in the park for that matter).

Adios, Big Sky Country

And this is why they call it Big Sky Country!
The Crazy Mountains, dwarfed by the sky and clouds.

You may have noticed that things have been rather quiet here at Kinexxions. I've been busy with the photo project, which I'm happy to say has been completed. In the process I was able to free-up over 55gb of hard drive space on the netbook and have sent an external drive with all of the photos to a friend for safekeeping.

The ladies at the library have been very nice, helpful and friendly. The wifi has been wonderful and it is greatly appreciated. I've spent a couple hours there every day that it has been open.

Sadly, I haven't done as much sightseeing here as I would have liked. Which means that I'll probably have to come back... which wouldn't be a bad thing, it has been VERY NICE here. The weather has been pretty good. Most days there has been sunshine. In the evenings it seems to get a little cloudy. There have been a couple of rainy days, but not an all-day rain. Temperatures have been very pleasant – in the upper 70s and lower 80s with a couple of days in the low 90s.

The van has been emptied and cleaned and a few things were discarded giving me a little space for some of the things I'll need for the next portion of the journey. I'll be leaving here Sunday morning and heading North... through Canada and into Alaska!

Yes, Alaska! A place I've wanted to go to for a very long time... my friends Sue and Fred (the same folks who got me down into the Grand Canyon) notified me less than a month ago that they had added Alaska to their fall trip. I took advantage of their generous offer to join them anywhere along their journey so we're going to meet at Denali National Park for several days then go down to the Kenai Peninsula for a few days. I'll be spending additional time in that area while they head on over to the Inner Passage to Haines, Skagway, and Juneau. I'll be going there too, just not at the same time. And so, this is why I haven't done much sightseeing here in Montana! I've been spending a great deal of time at the library looking up information about activities and making reservations. There is so much to see and do! It is overwhelming.

I'm excited but nervous at the same time. It is a long drive but from what I've read, the roads through Canada and into Alaska are similar to our secondary roads here in the lower 48 so I'm not overly concerned about that aspect of the trip. It is just a very, very long ways away...

Cycling in a Heatwave... Making Friends with Florals

There are many websites out there with excellent advice on cycling in hot weather. Suggestions include cycling slowly, wearing breathable fabrics, drinking plenty of water, applying sunscreen, and using baby wipes - all of which I do. And there tends to be a consensus that once the heat and humidity get past a certain point (yesterday's 100F weather would probably qualify!), there is just nothing that can be done other than bringing a change of clothes to work, particularly if one works in an environment with a dress code.

While this is good advice for some, changing upon arrival is not an option in my line of work. I have meetings in different parts of the city in the course of the workday, and there is no reasonable opportunity to change upon arrival prior to joining the meetings. Plus, I am on a tight schedule and changing a half a dozen times a day would be ludicrous.

So, what to do? Well, the Boston Globe and Bike Snob have already quoted me on this, but I've never actually written it in a Lovely Bicycle post: I wear fabrics with prints, which helps to disguise the one part of commuting in the heat we cannot control - sweat! "Eww gross!" - I know. But a reality none the less!

The best sort of prints for this purpose are small and detailed with some tonal variation - such as florals. This tricks the eye into not noticing additional tonal variations that happen from sweat stains. Stripes, polka dots, and other busy prints can work as well - but micro-florals and paisleys are particularly effective, because the patterns they form are organic. It may seem too simple of a solution, but this really is an amazing technique at making a sweat-soaked blouse, skirt, or dress look no different from a dry one.

I wore this dress to a meeting after cycling in it for 30 minutes in intense heat and humidity. Can you tell it's wet and disgusting? My colleagues could not, and complimented me on staying so cool in the heat. Yeah, right! Well, at least I can fake it with florals.

Maple Canopy

Taken along Rengo Road on the Grand Portage Reservation in Northeast Minnesota. The Maples were already past their peak but the trees along the road were still plenty beautiful. One nice thing about when the leaves begin to fall is that they usually fall from the tops of the trees first. This reveals glimpses of the blue sky above while the lower halves of the trees still have plenty of color. While most people are concerned only about when the peak will occur each year, I find every stage of autumn to be equally enjoyable.

Sometimes ya just strike out!

And you have to wonder, What were “they” thinking when this was filmed? It's not the first time I've come across something like this. And I'm sure it won't be the last! [big sigh] Somewhere on this page is the guy I'm looking for...





Index to Deeds, Union County, Ohio for the “A” surname and “W” given name.Family History Library film 571773 accessed February 24, ..

Up the Mountain

It was a beautiful, winding drive up the mountain to the Ridge that even included a tunnel. (Jan's head in the mirror.) There were wonderful vistas off in the distance each time we went around another bend in the road, that we would stop and look at. There were trees everywhere, sometimes obscuring the views. We even saw a mama deer and her fawn. The fawn is in this shot with a moutain behind it.

Sunshine! and Panorama Point Snow Pit

Howdy Everybody!

The sun is out and the temperatures are soaring: 49 at Paradise today! Come out and ski in your shorts.



This week's snow pit was dug just below the bathrooms at Panorama Point. Except for the surface, the top 100 cm of snowcontains6 layers that are all the same hardness and temperature and a mixture of rain crust, ice crust, and rounds. There was about 5 cm of heavy snow on top of a rain crust as of yesterday afternoon. By noon today there was a good 5 cm of slush on top.



Stabililty tests for the snow pit were as follows:

ECTX

CTN

STH @ (15cm) Q2



The weekend forecast shows a drop in the freezing level (finally) and somesnow headed our way!

William and Minerva (Joslin) Knight

On September 10, .. I visited the library in Iola, Allen County, Kansas where I was able to find cemetery transcriptions and newspaper obituaries for some descendants of Minerva Fatima (Joslin) Knight, daughter of my 3rd great-grandparents Lysander and Lydia (Robison) Joslin.

Minerva Fatima Joslin was born January 7, 1859 in Whitley County, Indiana. At the age of 17, on March 16, 1876, Minerva was married in Whitley County to 20 year old William John Knight. The minister who married them was Price Goodrich, the brother of Minerva's grandmother, Abigail (Goodrich) Joslin. The next year Minerva and William moved to Barton County, Kansas along with her parents and the majority of her brothers and sisters. (Her sister and my 2nd great-grandmother, Malissa Joslin Brubaker, was the only sibling that remained in Whitley County, Indiana.)

A William Knight was found in Beaver Township (page 490) in the 1880 census with wife Mary (this is presumed to actually be Minerva). Also listed with William were two daughters, Mary A. age 1, and Nina G. age 5/12. These fit the ages of their first two children, a son Merlin Andrew was born in October 1878 and a daughter, Nellie Gertrude was born on December 22, 1879. If this is really the right family, the census enumerator sure had some difficulty with their names! (A third child, Hale Vernon would be born August 12, 1896.)

In May 1899, Minerva and William were living in Keighly, Butler County, Kansas (when her father died at her home on May 1st). However, the family was found in Reeder Township, Anderson County, Kansas (page 305) in the 1900 census. Listed was William (head of household), his wife Minerva, 3 year old son Hale, and a boarder, William Beck.

They must have moved to Iola, Allen County, Kansas soon after the 1900 census as that is where William passed away on January 2, 1902 at the age of 46. After William's death, Minerva was married to J. N. Storey (date and place of marriage not yet known) and reportedly died on May 12, 1905 (also at age 46) in a wheelchair on the street in Hot Springs, Arkansas. I was unable to find an obituary for Minerva in the Iola newspaper. I haven't checked the Hot Springs newspapers yet. After their deaths, their young son Hale lived with his sister Nellie and her husband, Bert Sutton. Minerva and William are both buried in the Old Cemetery in Iola, Allen County, Kansas.

The notice of the death of William John Knight was published on January 6, 1902 in the Iola Daily Register.

W. J. Knight, who lives in Brooklyn Park, and who has been employed as a carpenter at the Standard Acid Works, dropped dead from heart failure as he was preparing to begin work at 7 o'clock this morning. The doctor and coroner agree that death was instantaneous and the remains were taken to Culbertson's undertaking rooms.

Mr. Knight seemed to be in his usual good health when he appeared at the works this morning. He greeted his fellow workmen pleasantly and at the sound of the whistle laid his had on an upright beam, preparatory to ascending to the place where he was working. Then the blow came and without an outcry he sank to his knees and then to the floor. Several men saw him fall and hurried to his side. Apparently he was dead when they reached him, but they carried him to the open air and did what they could in the hope of reviving him. Dr. Coffman was telephoned for and soon arrived on the scene, but could do nothing and he stated that Mr. Knight must have died almost as soon as he reached the ground. Coroner F. D. Teas was notified and viewed the remains, later authorizing the removal to an undertaking parlor.

Large center stone with father and mother stones to the left and right. In the Old Cemetery in Iola, Allen County, Kansas.

Knight (across top of the stone)
W. J. KNIGHT / 1855-1902 / AT REST
MANERVA F. / HIS WIFE / 1859-1905

Another stone, that of a great-grandson, is set in the same plot, in front of and to the left of the “Father” stone. Ronald was the son of Helen Sutton and her husband, Gerald Curtis.

RONALD STEVEN / CURTIS / APR 1, 1943

William and Minerva (Joslin) Knight had three children:

1. Merlin (Merle) Andrew Knight was born in October 1878 and died March 8, 1930. He was married on October 26, 1899 in Butler County, Kansas to Carrie Thompson. She was born in August 1881 and died in October 1971. They had four children: Harry, Leota, Ruby, and Opal Knight.

2. Nellie Gertrude Knight – will be the subject of a future post.

3. Hale Vernon Knight was born August 12, 1896 in Butler County, Kansas and died on January 30, 1947. He was married to Alma (maiden name not known) about 1918 and they had three children: Hester, Hale and Mary Knight. An online obituary for Alma (The Wichita Eagle dated May 23, 1992) stated that she died May 20, 1992 at the age of 96 and was a retired teacher. Survivors included a son Hale of Everett, Washington and a daughter Mary K. Merrill of Harlingen, Texas. Also six grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

Pedal and Coast

A friend of a friend flies gliders at the Ulster Gliding Centre down the road. I was encouraged to visit. "He used to race bikes. He restores old planes. The place is amazing, you'll love it."



Terrified of flying and armed with only the vaguest notion of what gliders actually are, I nonetheless head over there one evening. The phrase "restores old [fill in the blank]" proves to be excellent bait.In honor of the occasion, I ride a 1938 Tyrone Flyer, handmade in Northern Ireland.





Astride the 75-year old machine, I race down the winding coastal road, at length turning onto a narrow lane toward the Lough Foyle. I ride past pastures, chicken coups, a thatched cottage, and a field of parked caravans, until finally a meadow comes into view - spread out along the water's edge and littered with small aircraft. From a distance the scene resembles a vegetable patch.





By the hangar, Owen waves me through, bike and all. We exchange greetings and straight away his eyes are on the bike.





Owen used to race 100 mile time trials. He was good, right up there at the top. Then he stopped. But I can see the cycling has not left him. If he sees a bike, he can't not look at the bike. Then it's my turn to look at the planes.





A hangar is basically a garage for aircraft. This one is dome-shaped. The interior is well illuminated. There are little planes everywhere and I wander through them as if through a forest, stepping over tails and wings as if they were felled tree branches. Some planes are colourful and others are white, some fairly new and others quite old. Owen restores the old ones.






I ask about the materials, the paint, the provenance. Most of the machines are British or German, WWII era. We talk about plastics, and how they've changed over the years (a topic I'm familiar with from my fountain pen collecting days). Then he shows me the cloth used for wings - stretched so tautly and painted over so smoothly, I would never have guessed it was cloth.






The planes are so light and small, they seem toy-like. "I could take you up in one of these if you like?" I shake my head in horror, which I quickly try to disguise as a polite "I wouldn't want to impose."






So what exactly is a glider? Put simply, it is a small airplane without an engine. A non-motorised plane. Visually, gliders can be distinguished by their lack of propellers(although there are alsomotorised gliders, which do have propellers)and their unusually long wings.






Because a glider does not have an engine, it cannot take off under its own power and relies on a tow-plane to bring it up to the desired height, then release it.






Once airborne, the glider uses streams of rising air (thermals) to prolong the flight, as the pilot steers it. In this manner, the glider can stay up in the air for hours and even travel cross-country. "Cross country without an engine?" I said, growing interested in the mechanics of the thing.






Long story short, I ended up in the glider. Owen - as most of the pilots there - has such a steady, reassuring manner about him, that the more we chatted the more it began to seem like a good idea - just a normal way to spend an afternoon. "There's no engine, so nothing can go wrong, you see. It's a bit like cycling really. Take your camera!" Yes, it would be like cycling.




I was feeling pretty good as I approached the glider, until another pilot - Gary - handed me a parachute. "Here, put this on." I must have turned white and begun to inch my way backward (OMG why do I need a parachute??), because Gary sort of held me in place and swiftly began to put the parachute on for me, cheerfully instructing me on its usage while gently nudging me into the glider. "There. It's like getting into the bathtub."




In fact, the thing is sort of canoe-shaped. The pilot/instructor sits behind the student/ passenger. There are duplicate controls. There is very little room, and once the top is down, you feel sealed off from the rest of the world. Once I was in it, my attitude was - If you're gonna do it, do it. Otherwise don't do it. No point being scared now.






As Owen began to rattle off a series of mysterious control-check messages into the radio, Gary grabbed the rope attached to the glider's nose and connected it to the tow-plane.






This is what it looks like to be towed along the grass runway. We are taking off toward Lough Foyle.





Here is the rope.






The take-off is quick and painless. Before I know it, we are being towed through the air.






View from the ground.





Finally, the rope is released. The tow-plane returns to the ground and the glider - well, it glides. I am in a small plane. Everything is completely silent. We are floating, coasting really. I am feeling fine. Calm, downright serene.





The landscape spreads out beneath. Familiar places from an unfamiliar vantage point. In that sense, it really is a bit like cycling. In an abstract sort of way.





We fly along the coast, then turn inland and head to Binevenagh Mountain. Owen explains how to work the controls to make the plane bank, turning it around. It makes sense and I give it a try. The plane turns. And there is Binevenagh, half submerged in shadow from a low cloud, half illuminated by intense sunshine. It looks quite tame from here, flattened out against the landscape. My heroic climbs and descents hardly seem like an accomplishment now.



On the very top of Binevenagh is a mysterious lake. It is up a rough gravel road and I've only made it up there once so far. The lake is eerie, prone to mists and unusual growths around its edges. When you're standing next to it, it looks as if it is about to pour off of the edge of the mountain.





But what you don't see from the ground, is that the lake is distinctly heart-shaped. It is also nowhere near the edge of the mountain when viewed from an aerial perspective.





My camera is with me in the glider. There is a small window that slides open to stick the lens through. I've no experience composing aerial photos, and my 50mm lens is all wrong for the task. Even as I take them, I know that my pictures will look generic, uninteresting. But they are mine and I take them with the same genuine enthusiasm as anyone would.





The sun fades gently in the silence.Over Magilligan Point, we see another glider in the distance and wave to them.Everything is beautiful. "You all right?" Owen asks. Yes! This is wonderful. "Want to try a Chandelle?" he says. "Oh. What's that?" It's a maneuver. A bit of fun. Not quite aerobatics, but almost. "All right!"



The glider does something that is part spin, part freefall and part loop. I see clouds. I am not sure which way is up. I feel pressure in my temples and my vision starts to go dark. A split second later, I am drenched in a cold sweat and hit with a wave of nausea. I sit very still and take deep breaths. "How was that?" Owen asks from the back seat."Mmm hhmm hhmm!" I reply, mouth closed, worried I will puke all over the nice glider if I try to form sentences. Point taken. No more aerobatics. As the sun sets, we descend.






On the ground, I am soaking wet - hair, clothes, everything. Weird, the physical reactions we have. I don't remember feeling scared, but my body must have decided otherwise. We have a laugh about it. Then we steer the plane down the grass runway toward its next tow.






Is gliding anything like cycling? Hmm, I don't know. Maybe the feeling of landing is similar to that of a long descent. The view can be similar too. But on a bicycle everything feels open, whereas in a glider you are closed in, closed off - a bit claustrophobic for me. Not that I don't want to do it again. But perhaps no Chandelles just yet. It could be a useful skill, knowing how to fly light aircraft.






Some day. But for now I get back on the Tyrone Flyer. I pedal uphill, coast downhill. That is more my style of gliding.

R.I.P. Geckie

She was a good gecko.

I think her poor vision contributed to her not eating very well, especially lately. Or possibly something else was wrong. Leopard geckos can live to 25 years in captivity, and she was only eight, if the guy we bought her from was telling the truth. (She was supposed to be two when we bought her.)

She always went through periods of not eating, but would always snap out of it and make a comeback. But not this time. She died yesterday.

In this picture she was shedding her skin. Look how fat her tail was! (They store excess fat there.)

I think we're going to have to move her cage. Out of habit, I keep glancing down every time I pass it, expecting to see her. I didn't cry when we first found her dead, but that dang empty cage gets me every time.

Civil War Ancestor - William Brubaker

William Brubaker was born in Perry county, Ohio, November 20, 1843. His mother was Sarah Foster, daughter of Benjamin and Margaret "Peggy" Myers Foster. His father was John Brubaker, son of Martin and Nancy Neel Brubaker. William's parents were never married to each other. My grandmother's notes state that two girls were pregnant by John Brubaker, Sarah Foster and Catharine Clum. John chose to marry the one that was "more pregnant" and that was Catharine. In 1849 John and Catharine moved to Huntington County, Indiana. They had eleven more children. Even though William was not mentioned in his father's will of 1879 it is thought that he did have a relationship with some of his half-siblings as he is mentioned in the obituary notices for several of them and those still living when he died are mentioned in his obituary. When he enlisted in the 17th Indiana he used the Brubaker surname; he used that name for the rest of his life.

When William was 5 ½ years old, his mother, Sarah Foster, was married to George Parkison and in 1851 the family moved to Whitley County, Indiana. In the 1850 and 1860 census William was listed in the household of George and Sarah Parkison, under the Parkison surname. In the 1870 census he is listed with them as William Brubaker. George Parkison, in his will dated June 10, 1902 stated "It is my will that said William Brubaker, although he is my step-son only, shall take his equal share as hereinbefore and hereinafter set out, the same as if he were my son by blood." William was also made co-executor of George's estate.

William Brubaker enlisted April 21, 1861 in Company E, 17th Regiment Indiana Volunteer Infantry, which became known as Wilder's Lightning Brigade after the regiment was mounted in February 1863 and then armed with Spencer repeating-rifles in May 1863. William served three years and two months in the 17th. He took part in all the battles and skirmishes in which the regiment was engaged through October 3, 1863.

One record in his pension file No. 102.087 shows that he was 5 feet 8 ¼ inches tall when he enlisted in 1861 and he had a fair complexion, gray eyes, and brown hair. A surgeon's certificate dated April 17, 1878 shows that he was 5 feet 10 inches tall, weighed 145 pounds and had a dark complexion.

On October 3, 1863 while in the line of duty at Thompsons Cove, Tennessee and engaged with his company in a skirmish with rebel troops he was shot through his right thigh by a musket ball. The next day he was sent to the hospital at McMinville, Tennessee where he remained until January 15, 1864 when he was sent to the hospital at Nashville, Tennessee. He was at Nashville for four days when he went home on furlough with his company. He remained at home until March 20, 1864 when he returned to the field again. He was discharged on June 20, 1864 at Columbia, Tennessee. I would imagine that he went home for further recuperation.

On February 28th 1865 he was "veteranized" and enlisted as a sergeant in Company I, 152nd Regiment Indiana Volunteer Infantry. He was again honorably discharged at Charlestown, West Virginia on August 30, 1865.

His injury plagued him the rest of his life. He filed for an "invalid" pension on February 1, 1866 stating "He was and still is unable to perform any manual labor of any consequence. He can do some light work and that is all." and was awarded $4.00 per month with a one-half disability. In March of 1891 he applied for a re-rating of his pension and was awarded $6.00 per month.

The pension act of February 6, 1907 apparently based pensions on age rather than just disability. William reapplied for pension on March 5, 1907 when he was 63 years old, which made him eligible to receive $12.00 per month. Veterans over 70 years of age could receive $15 while those 75 and over could receive $20 per month. He received the increase of $12 per month for the rest of his life.

William died on January 26, 1912 aged 68 years, 2 months and 6 days. His widow, Malissa Joslin Brubaker, immediately applied for pension and was awarded $12.00 per month, which she received until her marriage to Jacob Bower on May 18, 1915. He died on March 22, 1929 and just four days later, Malissa reapplied for a widow's pension based on William's service. Malissa had moved to Fort Wayne, Indiana and was living with her granddaughter Hazlette Brubaker Phend and her husband, Vic Phend at 2221 West Brook Drive. Malissa's application was approved and she received a pension of $40.00 per month until her death on September 30, 1937 at Columbia City.

William Brubaker and Malissa Mariah Joslin, daughter of Lydia Robison and Lysander Price Joslin, were married on April 20, 1871 by A. J. Douglas, Minister of the Gospel. (Just as a side note, six years later, A. J. Douglas would become the father of Lloyd C. Douglas, minister and author.)



Photos: The first two were tintypes and are of William Brubaker and Malissa Joslin Brubaker. They were probably taken about the time of their marriage in 1871. The group photo was probably taken around 1890-1891, shown are William (born 1843), Hale (born 1886), Charles (born 1871), and Malissa (born 1849).

From the 1907 History of Whitley County, Indiana we learn that in 1871, William "purchased one hundred and thirty acres of native forest land, bordering Goose Lake, which now, as a result of his earnest labor and successful management, presents a neat and thrifty appearance, being nicely fenced, well drained and thoroughly equipped with a comfortable and substantial residence, barn and other improvements necessary to render farm life pleasant and profitable. In politics he is a Republican, but refuses to serve in public capacity. Mrs. Brubaker is an active member of the Woman's Relief Corp of Columbia City and also takes an interest in religious matters, being a member of the Baptist church. The family is well known and highly respected, taking an active interest in all social and public enterprises."

Two children were born to William and Malissa: Charles Romain was born August 19, 1871 and married Maud Wise (more on them in the future). Maurice Hale, who was born May 17, 1866 and died December 14, 1910 at New York City while attending the law school of Columbia University.

His obituary, published January 27, 1912 in the Columbia City Post, in part, stated: "William Brubaker, an old veteran and one of the kindliest of men, entered into the long sleep at his home on North Elm street Friday forenoon about ten o'clock. He had been unconscious since Wednesday and his passing was peaceful and quiet. The last illness dates from a week ago Monday, but Mr. Brubaker had been feeling badly for the past six weeks, during which time he had not been off the premises. It was four years ago that his health began to fail, and the sad and untimely death of his son, Hale, which occurred December 14th, 1910, was an affliction which bore heavily upon him and burdened him with grief. Heart trouble and such complications as follow diseases of that organ undermined his strength and when Bright's disease set in his powers of resistance were almost exhausted."

On Saturday, April 28th, William Brubaker, my 2nd great grandfather, was inducted into the "charter class" of the Society of Civil War Families of Indiana, a project sponsored by the Indiana Genealogical Society.

Putting in the Glacier Stakes

Good news for climbing this year at Mt. Rainier!

Many of you may have seen the white schedule-40 PVC pipes in various locations on the mountain. These stakes are installed using a steam drill and a big frothing wand to put an 8-9 meter long stake into the snow down past the layer of glacier ice.

When we put the stakes in, the snow depth is measured from last year's late fall layer. This year, all of the way up the Nisqually and even at 11,100' on the Ingraham, we have measured an amount of snow comparable to most years at this time.

This is good news for climbers. Many of the non-standard routes rely on Mt. Rainier's typical snowfall to make the route endure long enough into the summer for climbers to take advantage of the better weather.

The project's aim is to analyze the mass-balance of the Nisqually Glacier. One of the things that we have learned from this project is that the Muir Snowfield at about 9,700 feet has lost about 1 meter of ice each year for the past six years. Many of you may have noticed the rock rib that has been exposed just down from Camp Muir at about 9,700 feet!

The Glacier Monitoring Program is coordinated by the geologist at North Cascades National Park. Many of the Pacific Northwest's glaciers are incorporated into this study. Field crews from North Cascades National Park and Mount Rainier National Park are involved in the project.