Happy Birthday, Andrew Jackson Corley

Andrew Jackson Corley (crop of photo from page 186 1/2, A Genealogy of Corleys by Dewitt C. Corley (1927)).

Dear Reader: Do you think you are related to the individuals listed in this post? Please drop me a note! I love hearing from cousins and others researching my family!

My 2nd great-grand uncle Andrew Jackson Corley was born this day in 1829. He was married twice and fathered no less than 20 children. His parents were Jonathan Cheatham Corley and Delilah Basham. I found his picture in the book A Genealogy of Corleys, which states:

“He was the next to the youngest son, a farmer, with but limited education, but was regarded as a man of honor and uprightness. He lived and died on his farm, three miles north of Herrick, Illinois, and is there buried, in what is known as the Corley Cemetery, with his wife and several children. He was reasonably thrifty. He was a member of the Masonic Fraternity, and served in the Federal Army during the Civil War. He was twice married. His first wife was Harriet Jones, to whom he married August 5, 1847.”

What a wealth of information! After looking up his Civil War records, I found the pension information for the applications filed by him and his second wife, so I need to try and find that the next time I’m at NARA. His second wife was Sarah Jane Wooters, whom he married shortly after Harriet’s death around 1872. He died 5 September 1893.

Touchdown Tales

Football has been a part of my life as far back as I can remember. Some of my earliest memories are of me in my John “Riggo” Riggins jersey nightgown. Yes, even in this miserable season for D.C. football, I can admit that I’m a born-and-raised ‘Skins fan. (Incidentally, it was several years before I learned that not every team had transvestite fans who wear pig snouts to every game. We’re special — that’s just for us.)

I must admit too that I didn’t quite *get* football at first. Touchdowns were irrelevant to me. The players on the field simply weren’t doing their job if there wasn’t a huge pile of players on top of each other when the whistle blew. That’s when I cheered. The bigger the pile-up, the better. Hence, I was usually rooting for fumbles/recoveries, no matter which team had dropped or recovered the ball.

I was 5 years old when I learned the true meaning of football. We were visiting my grandmother, who lived in a sixth-floor condo in Alexandria, Va. It was a gorgeous day and my cousin Lee (also 5) and I were not content to enjoy it from her balcony, so my uncle Rick agreed to take us to a grassy area on the grounds of the complex for a game of football.

The teams we fielded were small: two-man… no, actually one team had one and a half men (Rick and Lee) and the other team was me and Rick’s Chesapeake Bay Retriever, Jackson.

I don’t remember how the defining play began, but somehow I had the ball (Jackson passed it to me?) and I was careening towards the edge of the patch of grass that had been indicated as an end zone. Lee was only 7 months younger than me, but he was also seven inches shorter for quite awhile. He was firmly clamped around my waist (Jackson was probably sniffing something really interesting).

And so, my cousin dragging along beside me and my uncle hooting at the site of it all, I scored my first touchdown.

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Big props to Denise Levenick at The Family Curator for her Genealogy and Family History Bloggers Alamanac, which proposed “Touchdown Tales” as today’s writing prompt.

Not-So-Wordless-Wednesday

I am thankful to the genealogy blogging community for providing prompts like this to write (or not). Here’s my first (Not So) Wordless Wednesday post. There’s not a whole lot I know about this photo — I don’t know where or when it was taken. But I treasure it because it’s the only photo I have of my dad and his brother together as adults.

Karl and Edmund Corley