An Evening with the Dead Relatives

Yes, of course, I still love the Tennessee State Library and Archives, but I was able to spend all evening, courtesy of the State of Michigan and this awesome website, with many of my dead relatives.

The most awesome discovery?

Oscar Phillips’s Death Certificate. Oscar is my Grandpa’s grandfather, Luke’s son. As you can see written on there. And his mom? Patience Simmons. Oscar died of apoplexy, but I found death certificates for two of his siblings, who died of heart problems, so I have to suspect that such was the nature of his apoplexy. On all three siblings’ death certificates, I found Luke and Patience, both of whom were thought by their kids to be from New York. This lines up with what they told the census folks, so I’m ready to believe it as fact.

Whereabouts in New York? That still remains a mystery.

In Which I Get Serious about Luke Phillips

I have contacted the Oakland County county clerk’s office to try to find out about this “marriage.”  Yes, I am now indeed talking smack about my own ancestors. But I figure that Luke Phillips has had his chance to show up and straighten this nonsense out.

I’ve gotten weird woo-woo crap from the Demunbreuns and they don’t even know me.

But I can’t even get a sign or portent from my own dead relatives?

I tell you, ancestors.

But I did get to read a charming recount by an early settler of a trip he took where he basically walked from Detroit to what would be Chicago, taking a route that seems roughly analogous to State Road 12, and he was attacked by “prairie wolves” which he said looked like foxes, but meaner, and he tried to fool his aunt and uncle who were living out on the prairie, but they recognized him.  The most interesting part, though, is that he stayed with some missionaries and then later stayed with some Indians and he asked the Indians about Christianity and they all told him that they really liked the missionaries, but they felt like there was nothing good in the coming of Christianity for them. I thought that was pretty astute.


Liz brought me a deer antler she found in one of my favorite cemeteries. It is, quite possibly, one of the coolest presents I have ever gotten. I have it sitting on top of my magical cabinet and I like to take it down and contemplate its weight and shape.

It puts me in mind of the rune algiz, with its three prongs, which means elk. Which certainly means “elk” because of its resemblance to the branching of horns.

I want a something… a statue of Odin, but all the ones I see are of Odin as great big, hulking warrior beast, and none of him as wandering wizard.  It’s bad enough that I wonder if this is something I could do myself.

I’m kind of in a weird headspace. Taking some days off was exactly what I needed. But getting back into the daily grind is hard. I just want to be in my garden or walking around in the parks. Seriously, if I had known how satisfying checking out all the parks would be… I don’t know. There’s no “then” to that sentence. I’m just really enjoying it.

There’s so much to see and try to figure out. One of the things I’m most glad about is switching from a world-view I understood to be constantly telling me that there is so much you shouldn’t bother yourself with, that knowing things or too much, anyway, is an affront to god to a worldview in which knowing things is an important and great pleasure.

Well, this is a rambling post. But that’s what I’m thinking about this morning.

That and the fact that the Butcher accused me of having crappy magic because he keeps putting his lottery tickets in my magic cauldron and he has not yet won the lottery. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s putting his lottery tickets in a knickknack. Not that I might not have crappy magic, but let’s not blame the knickknack, you know?