How did I know I wanted to become a Genealogist?

     Genealogy has always has been my passion since I was a little girl at 9 years of age. Just a little history, my grandmother (maternal) had lost her husband in 1964, several years before I was born.  In their living room, and in their bedroom, there were numerous painted pictures that Jacob hand-painted and framed sketches. 

     As it was told to me, one of those paintings was on exhibit in the Guggenheim museum. Sadly though, through extensive research, and numerous phone calls to the museum and area museums; I have not found this to be true, or no record of such occurrence.  

     Jacob Stephen Reuter was also in the US Army, he was stationed overseas multiple times, and he received multiple War medals. They were framed and placed in the hutch, and alongside on the wall of the hutch. My grandmother Lena and I would go over how grandpa Jacob received all of his medals, and when, even having a Purpleheart medal.    

     As inquisitive as I was, each time I would go to her apartment, I would ask questions. Finally one day, my grandmother handed me a black and white composition book, and she sat down with me. Anytime thereafter, she would sit down with me and tell me all about my grandfather as I took notes in this composition book. I was mesmerized as she told me the stories of her husband, writing down each date, each memory she had of him. 

     Soon after this cherished composition book became known as the "Book of the Dead" as my Mother said. She would always ask, do you always have to bring that book of the dead when we visit family. My reply as a young child and a teenager were "yes Mom, I do".  One year, my mother had enough of me carrying around this "Morbid" book, she took it and said she thrown it out. All of that information, through the years, of not only her father and mother's information, but of great grandmothers and grandfather's information, but of cousins and aunts and uncles birthdates, and marriage dates, even some pictures, all were gone. As a teenager, I was devastated. My mother and stepfather were in the midst of getting a divorce, in 1985, and Mom wasn't in her right mind, I kept telling myself. 

     Several years prior to 2003, my mother had been ill. In and out of hospitals, different diagnoses. Virginia had always been a smoker of menthol cigarettes, Kool and Salem were her preferred brands, however, to appease the doctors who kept insisting that she quit smoking, she went to a lower tar and nicotine cigarette.  At some time prior to 2003, Virginia was diagnosed with COPD and the beginnings of emphysema. Mom had always suffered from asthma as a child and throughout her adolescence and into her adulthood. It progressively got better with time, but whenever mom got sick with a normal cold, it would turn into bronchitis.  However, Virginia always downplayed what the diagnosis was, in fact, she was diagnosed with thyroid disease, which mom quickly dismissed, and soon thereafter quit taking the medication she was prescribed. Her other daughter believes that she definitely had thyroid disease, because, the loss of hair, brittle nails, and the horrible dry skin that Virginia had. Also, her other daughter was diagnosed with thyroid disease, as well as her granddaughter, who was born with thyroid disease. 

     The only medication that seemed to help Virginia's breathing problems was prednisone, and she relied heavily on it, and on her albuterol inhaler.  The final time I had talked to my mother, after just returning from a visit to New York, she told me where some very important documents were in her apartment, as well as items she wanted me to personally have because she knew I wouldn't sell them for personal gain, and with strict instructions, I was to give them to my daughter when my time had run out on this earth.  These items could be found in her bottom drawer in her nightstand. 

     On the 13th of March 2003, Virginia's time had run out on this earth, and she was called home to Heavenly Father. Virginia was born on 22 July in 1947, she was only fifty-five years old when she passed away. 

     While her other daughter and I were cleaning out Virginia's apartment after the funeral, deciding where to send all of her clothes, dishes, and housewares, which most of them went to the Catholic diocese in Brooklyn, New York.  Also to the Catholic Church Virginia attended, and to her sister Linda who still resided in Brooklyn. While my sister and I were in Virginia's bedroom, I remembered the conversation I had previously with Virginia. In that bottom drawer was several mementos of Virginias.  The catholic prayer book she was given by her mother, Lena, on Virginia's first holy communion. Inside of that prayer book was pictures of her that were taken for her Holy Communion, and of her brother Stephen. Also in that book, were pictures of Linda, Virginia's sister for her Holy Communion.

     These were pictures that I had never seen. Also in the pages of her prayer book were catholic mass cards for her brother-in-law, Anthony Reuter, and her Uncle's wife Maria Harsen, who was Maria Reuter or as we knew her to be, Tonda Marie. Also, a mass card for Marie's 2nd husband Edward R. Harsen.  

These were all precious to Virginia, even the newspaper clipping of when Elvis Presley passed away!

However, at the bottom of her drawer was my black and white composition book and a small jewelry box that contained her Mother's watch that her husband Jacob Reuter gave her for Christmas in 1945.  

Also, Virginia's High school diploma, where she graduated in California, not in New York as we had thought. 

Now, these mementos are very precious to me. Because this is what my mother held near to her heart. 

These are the simple reasons why I want to become a genealogist, because of family.