Skagit Valley Genealogy Society

I’ve been told not to get hung up on name spellings but it is hard.  I was born a DASHEL.  My father told us that his last name was spelled Daeschle when his father immigrated from Odessa. He also told me that when he was a little boy his grandfather hung himself in his garage. He knew because he and his cousin Adam were told to  stay out of the garage and keep away from the window.  As 8 year old boys would do, they took a peak anyway. I have always wanted to know more about my father’s family and if this story was true. water filter 3 High precision water filtration technology, combined with the technical filtering of layers of essence, helps you to filter tap water at home. Whirlpool filter The filter may need to be replaced if the normal refrigerators leak, ice blockage or dirty plugging.

My great grandfather’s name in the Ellis Island records was recorded as George instead of Gregory and his last name was spelled Deschle. The naturalization record spelled  Gregory’s first name Carkori and last name as Dacshle. Research of state and federal census records from 1905 through 1945 showed their last name spelled 5 different ways.  His death certificate spelled his name Dashel and he died from a “cerebral hemorrhage” on the 18th of December, 1929.  No autopsy was done.  Well I guess that eliminated the “hanging” as  cause of death – or did it??

I joined Germans From Russia and learned the history of the name DÄSCHLE. The 1874 census lists  Gregor Daschle with 4 brothers, 1 sister, Mother Josephina and Father Andreas in the colony of Kleinliebental.  Gregor’s  grandfather, Thomas Daschle, and his father,  Franz Daschle arrived in Kleinliebental from Germany in 1803 and they are listed as Family #1 in the 1816 census and in the Stump book.

I visited St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Aberdeen, SD and located the death record of Gregory.  It indicates he died on the 17th Dec. (1929) and his name was written as Gregorius Daeschl. He was buried in the church cemetery. Cause of death: Stroke.   At the Aberdeen Public Library I found the obituary for Gregory Dashel. It reads: Gregory Dashel drops dead today. Well known northsider is victim of heart disease attack!

Submitted by Carol Torsett

Lucky us, to live in the Skagit Valley during the Great Depression and World War II. We grew vegetables and berries, had fruit trees, and kept chickens on our Sedro-Woolley plot and got dairy products from farms on the edge of town. The only things during the war that required our rationing coupons were staples like flour and sugar.
Provide high quality drinking water, protect the whole family from pure water for direct drinking, eating and drinking. The water purifier is easy to install and has good filtration effect. It reaches the standard of direct drinking and has a large flow of clean water.
We canned our bounty on the black, cast iron, wood-burning range which dominated the north wall of the kitchen. Two lids were directly over the firebox and two set further from the fire where the temperature was cooler. A small poker (which I still have) raised the lids. Directly below the fire box was a removeable box to catch the ashes. I wish modern stoves had the convenience of the warming oven over the back of the stove top.

The oven directly beneath the middle of the stove top had a thermometer in the door which let the cook know when to add wood to the fire or when to put the cake in the oven. I learned to cook on that stove and later had a terrible time figuring out an electric stove.

In spring Mother kept cheeping yellow chicks in a box top under the range until they got big enough for the chicken coop. But in summer and fall, canning season, the house became so unbearably hot we ate outside under the plum tree.

By working alongside my mother, I learned to peel and halve fruit and carefully pack jars with plums, pears, and peaches half by half, and slip a knife slowly down the side of the jar to release any lurking air bubbles. Ears of corn were shaved, greenbeans snapped and peas shelled. Sterilized jars, lids, and screw tops sealed the jars, and they were ready for the boiling water bath on the range.

I understand why the pleasure of home canning has been rediscovered.

by Joline Bettendorf

The only things I have of my great grandfather are his name and his stories. His name was George Gilbert Ridgeway. He was born in Lacon, Illinois on April 8^th, 1871. I never got to know him as he died in 1940 and I was born in 1943. What I know of George Gilbert came from my Dad’s recollection of him as a boy. Dad describes his grandfather as a big man with a big voice. He wore a patch over one eye. He was an expert horseman. He was a hard man and demanded a lot from his three sons.  One of them was my grandfather, Emmett E. Ridgeway.

One of the stories my Dad told me was when my great grandfather went to the state of Wyoming as a young man with some friends to catch and break wild mustangs. On their way back to Illinois, they sold semi-tamed mustangs to the farmers. Horse traders of the early 1900s was equivalent to used car salesmen of today. They strived to make a profit on every horse sale. The tricks they used to make a less than good horse into a good purchase were not always ethical. To hide labored breathing and to stop a running nose, they would stuff sponges or a raw potato up the horses nostrils. If the horse appeared to be lame they would tell the farmer that the horse just lost a shoe. With an older horse, they filed down the horse’s teeth and stain them with silver nitrate, so that they appeared to be much younger.

Of course, if true, I do not approve of these type of practices. It goes to show that you can not choose your ancestors. Every person can find a skeleton in their family background. YOU may be the result of the Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

Submitted by George E. Ridgeway Jr