Martha’s Words

02/21/202008/01/2021 / Shirley Sorbello / 6 Comments

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He kept them in a night table drawer—a treasure of poems carefully hand-written in a composition book by his mother fifty years before. One of the poems, “My Boy,” was about him. How it must have warmed my Dad’s heart when he read it. Reece Wilmer Press, Jr. looked a lot like his mother and had inherited her stocky body build splattered with freckles, as I did.

I wasn’t particularly interested in the poems back then. It wasn’t until 1972, when he gave them to me, that I remembered they even existed. Martha Walton Press had died nine years before my birth. I am truly sorry that I never had the chance to know her. Dad didn’t talk much about his early family life, but I had the impression that it was a bit troubled. My mother mentioned to me that he had to quit school at age 16 to help support the family when his parents split up. (Ten years later, though, he graduated with a diploma in civil engineering from Drexel University).

The poems, written between 1899 and 1911, survived the five moves to date in my life. During this time, the writing has faded and the pages have become slightly torn and dog-eared. A few years ago when I took up genealogy, I read the poems several times, searching her words and studying the stylish handwriting in an attempt to know her better.

When I began self-publishing, it became apparent that these poems should be preserved in print. The themes of love, friendship, death and life are timeless. The words are cumbersome by today’s standards but their simplicity conveys a richness of emotion and nostalgia. Moreover, my grandmother was a feisty, creative, intelligent woman who played piano by ear, sewed clothing that she saw on a model and ran her own beauty shop. From the little I know about her, she seemed ahead of her time. When she became divorced, she married her younger brother-in-law, a bit unusual for the 1920s. She deserves to be remembered, and I can’t think of a better way to honor her memory.

As I continue in my writing journey, I feel that Martha’s spirit watches me, cheering me on. I sometimes wonder if she would have done more with her writing if life hadn’t gotten in the way. The luxury of retirement was not available to her; at the age of 57 she passed away from colon cancer.

I published her twelve poems in a short book entitled, “Martha’s Words,” in 2015. Here is the first poem—I hope you like it and will want to read more of her work.

A Lesson

A rose lies withered in my hand,
And one by one, its petals fall.
My thoughts oft turn to a better land
Where no flowers will fall at all.

It reminds me too of an aimless past,
Ah, full of regrets I now see.
Yes, one by one, hopes all fall fast;
There’s naught sure but eternity.

‘Tis sweet to live just day to day
For hope fadeth with the morrow.
And the prize we seek in a worldly way
Is only a false hope we borrow.

I often pray that God, to me, may gift
A life like the pure simple flower,
Content to take his sunshine to live
And scatter his blessings each hour.

Martha Walton (July 27, 1899)

Return to Cape May

06/22/201608/01/2021 / Shirley Sorbello / 6 Comments

Sunset at the Point

Summer would not be complete without my annual trip to Cape May. Actually, I usually travel there the last week of spring to avoid some of the craziness of the crowds that later flock to the Cape May area. My favorite part of Cape May is Cape May Point which is a mile or so outside of the quaint Victorian town. This is the area where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Delaware Bay. It is primarily a residential community with only one store/restaurant, a post office and many churches.

Catholic Church, Cape May Point

Last week, my daughter and I stayed at a cottage on Lake Lily, a thirteen-acre, fresh water lake with a colorful history. Apparently it was a special watering hole for the Kechemeche Indians. Rumors of British soldiers and Captain Kidd are intertwined in its history. Recent efforts by the Friends of Lake Lily have kept it a peaceful, healthy retreat for both humans and wildlife. I spent many relaxing moments sitting on this bench. I have to say that as much as I love sitting by the ocean, I found it more peaceful here.

View from Cottage

Swans on Lily Lake

Lake Lily

Here are some of my photos at the point including the remnants of the S.S. Atlantus, the concrete ship that sunk off the coast in 1926. For some reason, I feel compelled to take one of the wreckage each year even though it doesn’t change very much.

S.S. Atlantus

At Cape May Point

At Cape May Point

Cape May Point

At Cape May Point

This area has a few excellent wineries which are fun to visit when the weather is not ideal. We spent an hour or so relaxing at nearby Willow Creek Winery.

Willow Creek Winery

At Willow Creek Winery

Recently, I discovered that my great-great grandparents retired to Cape May Point back in the 1870s after a life on the farm in Burlington County. Unfortunately, the 1880 census does not give the street address. One of the fun things we did was to eat in a French New Orleans restaurant at 410 Bank Street in the town of Cape May, a house where their grandson, and my first cousin 2x removed, lived in 1920. Maybe this family connection partially explains why I’m drawn here again and again.

410 Bank Street

So how about you? Do you have any fun summer plans?

The Connection

03/28/201601/29/2020 / Shirley Sorbello / 4 Comments

1708 was a notable year for Maria Elizabeth Lucas, who was in her late teens or early twenties at the time. A terrible freeze lasting for four months destroyed the vineyards and trees in the Palatinate region of Europe. People and animals froze to death in this land already devastated by war. News came from England that free passage was being offered to persons wanting to go to America, and thousands of hopeful families fled there. Among them were Maria, her parents, Francois and Madeleine, and her six younger siblings.

Upon arrival in England, the family was devastated to learn that this rumor was untrue. They became stranded in London in a filthy refugee tent camp, struggling to keep from starving to death. Disease was rampant, and Maria’s mother as well as one of her younger sisters died during the year or so they lived at the camp.

Finally, they were able to secure passage to New York City in 1710 and settled in New Rochelle, a colony founded by French Huguenots in the late 1600s. There Maria met a fellow immigrant named Harmon Richman, a blacksmith, whom she married in 1712. They soon moved to Monmouth County, New Jersey and later settled in Salem County, also in New Jersey, where they purchased land and raised eleven children. They attended the Swedesboro Lutheran Church which is about 5 miles from where I live today.

Old Swedes Church in Swedesboro, NJ, now known as Trinity Church. The original log church was built on this site. This church was built in 1784.

Old Swedes Church, now known as Trinity Church. The original log church was built on this site. This church was built in 1784.

Her eldest son, Jacob, married Catherina Mattson, a descendent of the Swedes who settled in this area in the 1640s. After Harmon died, Maria lived with Jacob, my fifth great-grandfather, and Catherina in a house which Jacob built in Monroeville in 1746. The house is still standing today, and I recently drove by the location where I saw a part of the modernized version from a distance and later grabbed a photo from Google maps.

From there I drove to Daretown to the Pilesgrove (now Pittsgrove) Presbyterian Church where Maria attended services with her son and his family. Walking through this cemetery in its incredible peacefulness, I was delighted to find her weathered tombstone and that of Jacob’s which was slightly behind hers and barely discernible. I reached out and touched them both. It was when I held my hand on the top of Maria’s for several seconds that tears came into my eyes and I felt a powerful connection to a woman I am proud to call my sixth great-grandmother.

Old Pittsgrove Presbyterian Church. Photo by Tim Elmer

Mary Elizabeth Lucas Richman died December 2, 1767

I often feel connections to some of my ancestors that I learn about through my genealogy studies. Some I discover little about, but with others like Maria I am able to piece together significant portions of a life. More importantly, in the rare instances when I can walk the same streets as an ancestor did even over 250 years ago, the connection becomes undeniable.

Reference: http://gsscnj.org/upload/files/Ancestors’%20Attic/AA_Lucas_%26_Richman_Family_07-29-2010.pdf

Photo of Jacob Richman house taken over 100 years ago found on Ancestry.com and credited to Bonny Beth Elwell, author of “Upper Pittsgrove, Elmer and Pittsgrove.”

Top photo credit: Copyright: https://www.123rf.com/stock-photo/family_tree.html

A Common Man

09/02/201501/29/2020 / Shirley Sorbello / 7 Comments

No royal blood coursed though his veins; nonetheless, he led a notable life. Arent Issacszen van Hoeck was the progenitor of the Van Hook family in the United States. Born in Hooksiel, Germany, he immigrated to Amsterdam in the 1640s where he became a Dutch citizen. In 1655, at the age of thirty-three, he traveled with his second wife, Geertje, to New Amsterdam (New York City) where fewer than 1000 people lived at the time.

Arent was a cordwainer, which was a shoemaker who produced footwear of fine, soft leather. He was not a wealthy man and from the records of court documents, he often seemed to be in financial difficulty. Perhaps it was his five wives and ten children that strained his prosperity. Six of his children lived into adulthood including Judge Lawrence (Laurens) van Hoeck who was my 7^th great-grandfather. He appeared to have been a staunch member of the Dutch Reformed (Calvinist) Church with three of his marriages taking place there as well as several baptisms of his children. Arent died around 1697 when he was seventy-four, a ripe age for the times.

I am fascinated by stores of people who came to our shores in the 1600s. It had to take much strength of spirit and faith to make the eight-week trip from Europe to a barely-civilized world where Indian attacks were prevalent. There is no indication as to what inspired Arent to immigrate, but no doubt there were expectations of a better life in this new land. We will never know if his dreams were fulfilled, but we do know that a long, full life was lived by this “common” man.

For anyone interested in the van Hoeck family, there are several references at Ancestry.com . The photo is courtesy of http://www.nuevaamsterdam.com/eng/?pg=new_amsterdam. No copyright violation intended.