Unseemly Findings

As an amateur genealogist, I still get excited about turning over stones and finding something unexpected. Sometimes, I also do not know what to do with things that I didn't expect to find or that don't seem to fit into my fairy tale notions of my own family history.

For example, it jarred my senses to imagine that my great-grandmother Mary Ellen Stephens Goff could have been married before she married my great-grandfather. I don't know why. My great-grandfather had been married before, and I can't even find his first wife. So why the double standard? Why was I so incredulous to the notion that Mary Ellen was a happy divorcee prior to getting hitched to Richard Goff? I haven't the foggiest.

Likewise, when researching my great-great-grandmother, Martha Webb, I uncovered more unseemly matter than I'd ever dreamed was possible. The family had always handed down the story that Martha was raped, and our great-grandfather, John Henry Webb, was the product of that incident. John was reared by Martha's parents as their own child following her death a number of years after his birth. The family always said that Martha "willed herself to die," because of the shame she bore from being raped. This is history handed down through the family.

What was not handed down through the family was the fact that Martha's father, Willis Webb, had two families. Not only did his wife, Margaret, nee Stewart, spend nearly twenty years of her life bearing children, but Willis' mistress also bore him several children.

When I think of the rural setting in which the Webb family lived and the sprawling farmland they made into a home, it shouldn't surprise anyone that Willis needed sons to help work the land. What does surprise me is that Willis' other family appears to have more information about his legitimate family than I've been able to uncover from any other source!

My mother is beside herself with embarrassment over these findings; while I, on the other hand, have embraced my new extended cousins with open arms, because they are, in fact, related to me by blood. The Webb family has always been a stalwart of grit and self sustenance, pillars of the community; so the idea that there are these skeletons in the closet is, in my mother's eyes, something one should not talk of in polite society. She would prefer I sweep these things under the rug or out the door and forget them, but blood can't forget blood - at least mine can't.

I am very curious how other genealogists have handled these situations when they uncover them. Do you add them to your tree with caveats? Do you hide them away as improper like my mother would prefer? Or do you do what I did and embrace a new set of cousins.

As a footnote of sorts, it is important to note here that documentation on "the other family" and the information they had about the "legitimate" family has not yet been verified; however, what I have seen and heard from them is consistent with the history of the time and family folklore.

Cousins

This is a picture of three first cousins, my stepdaughter, Miranda, on the right, and Stacey on the left with Faith in the middle.

I've written about Miranda before. She's a successful attorney in Nashville and married to a delightful young man.

Stacey is a single accountant living in Lexington, and Faith is a school teacher, living in Stamping Ground with her husband, Ken, and five cats.

The North Fork of the Licking River at Milford, Kentucky.

Abel Goff

Abel Goff was born April 2, 1930 in Ludlow, Kentucky. His father, Andrew Goff was a foreman on the Southern Railroad, and his mother, Nellie nee Hughes, was a homemaker.

In high school at Ludlow High School, Abel excelled in football and wrestling. Following graduation, he enlisted in the United States Marine Corp and served in the Korean Conflict.

Abel married Cora Hall on March 22, 1955 in the parsonage of Ludlow Baptist Church with Richard and June Goff bearing witness. The couple settled in Covington, Kentucky where Abel worked as a Covington firefighter for 28 years. They had five children, Shirley, David, Steven, Kathy and Tim. He also had nine grandchildren.

Abel died in 1992 at the age of 62. He had been on kidney dialysis for five years and succumbed to renal failure while a patient at the Veteran's Hospital in Cincinnati, Ohio. He was laid to rest in Independence Cemetery, Independence, Kentucky.

This Old House

This old house sits on Asbury Road in Bracken County, Kentucky. I drive by it at least once a week, and each time I do, I wonder what its story is. Who lived here? Who died here? Did children play in the front yard, and was it once alive with azaleas and junipers? What happened that it fell into such disarray?

It's so sad now and cold like death. Termites have feasted until barely a skeleton remains. Yet it still has a story. I just don't know what it is.

Cora Hall Goff

Cora Sue Hall was born May 10, 1934, in Hindman, Knott County, Kentucky. She was my aunt by marriage, being the wife of my father's younger brother, Abel. They married on March 22, 1955 in the parsonage of Ludlow Baptist Church, Ludlow, Kentucky. Together they had five children, Shirley, David, Steve, Kathy and Tim and brought up their family in Covington, Kentucky.

Aunt Cora was a real country cook, making the best pot roast anyone ever ate. She loved crocheting, knitting and loved her country music. She was always laughing, and she loved her children and grandchildren more than anyone could ever know. It didn't matter what anyone ever did, if you were her family she loved you - end of story.

Aunt Cora died on March 30, 2011. She was interred next to Uncle Abel in Independence Cemetery, Independence, Kentucky, on April 2, 2011.

The Loss of a Giant

Richard Goff was the third child born to Andrew and Nellie (Hughes) Goff on November 17, 1924. The Goff family had migrated to Cincinnati from Somerset, Kentucky, and Richard was the first baby born in the city.

He started school in Cincinnati but transferred to Ludlow Independent Schools when Andy moved his family into what was known as the Section House, a place owned by the Southern Railroad. After graduating from high school, Richard enlisted in the U.S. Navy.

Richard Goff was a purple heart recipient for his service upon the U.S.S. Morrison. The Morrison, was sunk by a kamikaze at the Battle for Okinawa on May 4, 1945, killing 152 men. Richard was blown away from the destroyer, and grabbing a nearby life jacket, he watched as the ship plunged beneath the surface of the Pacific. Richard spent nearly a year recovering from his injuries, and he never mentioned the horrors of war.

Richard married June Hammond Perkins on June 10, 1950. The couple reared four children, Sherry, Sheila, Bruce and Richard, Jr. He worked as a tool and die maker at R.A. Jones in Erlanger, Kentucky for more than thirty years. The family resided in Covington, Kentucky until his retirement in the 1980s, at which time they moved to Palm Coast, Florida. He lived in the Sunshine State until his death from lung cancer on February 17, 2009.

Richard loved to camp, and he also loved boating. He was a member of Ludlow Baptist Church and was a third degree master Mason.

Richard was my father's older brother, my uncle. He was always larger than life to me and one of the funniest men I ever knew. He would run up to me as fast as he could with his fists clinched, saying, "I'm gonna punch you right in the nose." Of course I would run and scream, and he would pick me up and throw me over his shoulder and kiss and tickle me. With the exception of throwing me over his shoulder, he still did the "punch in the nose" routine until the last time I saw him, which was July, 2006, just before my father lost his battle to lung cancer. For the Goff family, Richard was the last of that generation to move on, and losing him was the loss of a GIANT.