Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) Partnership Agreement With the US National Archives

I’m a proud member of the DAR, a descendant of Joseph Getchell Jr. who fought in the first naval battle of the American Revolution. Nice to know that the US National Archives are partnering with the DAR!

NARAtions

Over the last decade, NARA has engaged in digitization partnerships to increase digital access to the records in our custody and we continue to look for opportunities to grow those partnerships. We are pleased to announce a new partnership agreement with the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR).

The DAR was founded in 1890 and is a non-profit, non-political volunteer women’s service organization dedicated to promoting patriotism, preserving American history, and securing America’s future through better education for children.  To learn more, please visit their website:  http://www.dar.org/

The agreement is available for review and public comment on our Digitization Partnerships page.  To submit feedback, please email digitization@nara.gov or leave a comment below.

The agreement will be available for comment until August 4, 2017.

Please consult NARA’s Principles for Partnerships for more information about our digitization partnerships.

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Monuments to Lost Libraries

Moore Genealogy

Authors photograph 2017, Charles H Moore

“Whenever an elder dies, a library burns down.”

 

Most of us have heard the above saying in one form or another. If there is any truth to this saying (I believe it holds much truth) then perhaps the above picture is of monuments to these lost libraries. If you are the family historian, genealogist, archivist, or family story teller, some responsibility falls on you to try and preserve some of the knowledge held in these libraries. Far too many people will only be known as a name and two dates on a gravestone, with their life story soon forgotten. Most family historians believe that family lore, if not preserved, will be lost within three generations. In the case of my family as my research has shown it happens much sooner.

We have many ways to save and pass on our family’s history. We…

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The Beginning of A Business in Machias Maine. Rier Buick. 1949.

My Dad, James “Gene” Rier, left the US Army Corp in 1945 after serving at West Point as a pilot instructor. He and my mother, Louise, moved to Calais for a little over a year where Dad worked at the mill to save money to start a business. In the garage of their rented home, Dad cut the logs for a cabin. The next year, he built that cabin on Dublin Street in Machias where his family lived while he constructed the building for his business and a second floor apartment for their growing family.

By 1949, they had two sons: my brother “Jimmy” age four and David, born that year. Dad managed to secure the franchise to sell Buick automobiles, operate a dealership, repair shop and sell parts. Soon, he added Pontiac to his line of cars and the business became “Rier Buick Pontiac.” Later he added Chevrolet and GMC to his inventory at “Rier Motors,” located at the corner of Dublin Street and the Roque Bluffs road.

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My mother kept the photos of that time period in an album. She cut titles out of magazines to tell the story of their humble beginnings.

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Gifts from our ancestors

Ends and Beginnings

“You are the fairy tale told by your ancestors.” – Toba Beta

My mother has a very pronounced hand tremor which she has graciously shared with me. Fortunately mine is still in its infant stages of development but I can watch my mom today and know where mine is headed.

Please don’t take this as complaining. I realize that there are many physical elements and disabilities much worse than this that I could be dealing with. Our close friend, a beautiful, kind and caring woman has battled MS for the last five years. I am sure she wishes it was just a hand tremor and honestly I don’t know how she has remained so positive dealing with this horrible and progressive disease. Her courage inspires me everyday.

My fascination with my tremor is the genetical aspect of it. My mom and dad have high blood pressure and all of their children…

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My Great Grandparents Home

Circa. 1930s. 24 Broadway, Machias, Maine. View from the front parlor through the wide, wooden, sliding doors into the sitting room and the dining room beyond. When I was in High School, my friends and I sat and listened to rock and roll music in this room. There, we mastered the skills of the hula hoop prior to a local contest in the 60s. There were dances in the parlor with a parquet wood floor fashioned by my father. I have no idea what the balls are but must be decorations hanging from the archway. The sliding doors are open wide with velvet curtains to slide shut instead of the doors.

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I have this rocking chair in my home. It was at the family summer camp at Indian Lake ever since I can remember. My mother told me the rocker came from the Means cottage, Edgemere, at Roque Bluffs.

Most of the furniture in my home today belonged to my great grandparents. In a future post, I’ll take you for a tour. Here’s a preview. Nellie’s table. It sat in the barn after my grandmother Harriet died in 1948. The marble top was missing. I replaced it with slate and oiled the wood with Hope’s 100% tung oil. It’s a beauty.

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My grandmother Harriet’s oak desk sat in the barn for decades. I oiled it with tung oil and it came alive again. The charcoal drawing is by Nina Bohlen, a friend of my parents, and given to me by my mother. The bronze fisherman and duck are treasured gifts from David and Kate Watts and belonged to Delia Houghton from Roque Bluffs.

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This House Has a Soul

Appalachian Ink ~ Home of Anna Wess (and Granny)

Some folks will tell you that nothing lasts forever. They’ll remind you, without knowing for certain themselves, that everything that is will soon enough be what was. That dead men tell no tales, and ashes to ashes, and all those other warnings of ends. Those folks cannot see beyond the darkness of their finite assumptions.

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I endeavor to know and see that everything lasts forever. Everything. Me, you, those fabled ashes, all fallen down as they may be. And as for the dead not telling more tales? Oh, yes they do. You just have to know how to listen properly, and see with the right eyes.

And beyond such bold notions of everlasting everything, I am here to tell you one more tale too wild to be true, but is: some houses have souls.

Hearts, too. As broken as yours, and thrice as big, capable of entrapping memories…

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