The Notre Dame Mill near Lure, France

Dear Mother,

It's time for me (Janice) to fill you in on a bit more of our travels.  

In northwestern Ohio, many people are descendants of the immigrant Pierre Stuckey (1781-1846) and his wife Catherine Hostetler, who died in 1832 prior to the family's immigration from France in the early 1800's. Pierre was a miller by trade. The immigration was from Le Moulin de Notre Dame de Lure (The Notre Dame Mill in Lure, France).  Using various maps, I now think I have found the location, on the round-about of the N19/E54 and D64 just west of Lure. There is a small stream (called Ruisseau Notre-Dame) that would have been the source of power.  I saw that this stream has a number of branches and is still large enough to require a bridge on the road.

The building on the site is typical of the Franche Comté region, although larger than some.  The arched "barn door" is so typical of the day, allowing loaded wagons to enter. The right section of the building is the home. I do not know whether this building, or any part of it, was there in the 1800's when the Stuckey family lived there.  It is possible that part of the building existed, possibly surviving fire and multiple wars. 

We enjoyed that trip, and are now looking forward to a week in central France--no relatives in sight.

With love,
Janice


P.S.  Some optional reading regarding genealogy: 

If your family has lived in northwestern Ohio (Archbold, Stryker, West Unity, Wauseon, Pettisville), and your last name is Stuckey or Short, then these millers, Pierre and Catherine, are your ancestors. The relationship with the Shorts comes through the two oldest Stuckey daughters who married Short/Schadt brothers. If your mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, etc. had the maiden name Stuckey or Short, these Stuckeys are your ancestors also. If these names appear more than once in your ancestry, you are related to yourself (as I am)! If you have questions, I would be pleased to correspond with you.

Attending a worship service at l'Eglise Evangélique Mennonite de la Prairie, Montbéliard

Dear Mother,

Last Sunday, we picked up Hélène, who directed us to her church, the Eglise Evangélique Mennonite de la Prairie, just inside Montbéliarde.  This is one of the largest Mennonite congregations in France, with about 200 or so.  There are but 2,000+ Mennonites in all of France, so I believe their influence is out of proportion to their numbers!  Last Sunday, however, since the chorale was singing at another church, many of the people in their 40s to 60s were away.  Even so, attendance was very good.  The building is usually so full that they have decided to create a building fund.

The youth were in charge of the day's service, so it was less formal than usual (though French Mennonites are generally somewhat informal, which I enjoy).  To my surprise, the service began with some announcements, which were followed by prayer requests and a time of open prayer.  This set the tone nicely for the gathered community.  Then we had perhaps 25 minutes of singing, all with overheads and largely in unison, with the occasional parallel 3rds or even harmony (but the choir was gone).  The sermon by Jean (John) Klopfenstein was on Hebrews 3 and Psalm 131.  If it were my church, I would purchase a great big clock for the benefit of the speakers!  The congregation does not have paid leadership, which is exactly what most of the folks prefer, so eight or so people take turns speaking.

The first photo was taken with my pocket camera, a bit on the sly, before the service began.  People were gathering, it was after the appointed time to begin, but nobody seemed to be concerned or pressed for time.  The young man standing at the front was waiting for more of the musicians to come.  He would eventually be leading the service, using a microphone, so I heard everything.  He also led the music from the piano.  The overhead was showing their equivalent of a bulletin for that day. They do not have a printed bulletin, but they have a monthly newsletter. The scripture was not shown on the overhead, which was a bit unusual.  Fortunately, I have a French version of the bible on my phone, so I could follow along with better understanding.

Since the day was nice and warm, people just stayed and stayed after church.  Of course, many of the families have been in this area for several centuries, and many are related to each other (and to themselves!)  We got to meet more Grabers, Shadts, Widmers, a Goll, etc.

In the background, you can see a bit of the separate building where the children have Sunday School, where they have fellowship meals, where the office is of Editions Mennonites (the French Conference publisher of their magazine, Christ Seul), and where (very important) the old Amish church record is housed, an important source of information on the Amish/Mennonite/Anabaptist people of the area in the 18th and 19th centuries (Janice's ancestors).

After church, Hélène invited us for a Sunday dinner.  The entrée was a thin-crusted pizza served with a cider from Normandy, a carrot salad (shredded carrots with a gentle dressing) and cabbage (also shredded with dressing).  This was followed by Belgian endives wrapped in cured ham and then baked with a white sauce (excellent).  Then a series of desserts.   On Saturday, she served a Hugelkopf (Gugelhupf, etc.) with cider.  This time, she served another type of Alsatian cake with coffee and mixed fresh fruit (over which she had liberally poured some rum).  We then worked for several hours on her papers, maps, and Hélène answered Janice's accumulated questions, etc.  Hélène had spent several years working in Scotland about forty years ago, which is where she picked up a number of old hymn books.  She insisted that I play some of them on her piano, she then hummed or even sang along when I selected an old favourite.  All of the songs were unknown to me.  Then it was time for another dessert (forget what it was).

We finally had to leave, because we had 500 kms of driving being ahead of us, and we feared that traffic might prove challenging.  We were on the highway by 6:00.  I tried not to exceed the speed limit most of the time, since 130 kms/hr = 80 mph, which is a nice limit, but it was not often observed by drivers in more peppy cars.  To our amazement, our GPS worked, right to the door.  Traffic was heavy, but it kept moving.  The tendency of European drivers to stay all the way to the right unless passing, really helps traffic move along in an orderly fashion.  But this disintegrated as the city approached.  We were home and unpacked by 11:30, tired but happy.

All for now, with love from us both,

Evan

The Widmer Tour around Montbéliard

Dear Mother,

Make yourself as comfortable as you can, with your cough and all--this is a major bog.  A cup of tea might be in order.  Although I am supplying the photos and the bones of this story, the fine details are all thanks to Janice (and can therefore be trusted!)  Here we go . . . .

On Friday, I picked up a car at the local Avis rental place in Charenton, climbed in, tried to refresh my memory on how to shift, and promptly stalled the car, three times without any difficulty whatsoever.  Not a good omen for anyone about to face traffic in Paris, its roundabouts and the like.  But I made it back to the Centre, and, with some traffic stacking up behind me, tried to back up in order to parallel park.  Of course, knowing how to get into reverse tends to be helpful at such times, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure how to get it into reverse.  So, ever onward, and I took off, going forward (after another quick stall).  I later figured out how to squeeze a ring on the gear shift into an upward position, which enables reverse.  Fortunately, there is more to report than my ignorance.

We loaded the car, engaged our Canadian GPS, hoping that its advertised European maps would indeed suffice.  They did, missing only a new exit on a roundabout and one very recent highway entrance, both of which we could navigate by sight.  I figure our GPS will be paid for by the end of our stay, and then we take it back to use in North America.  Neal had given us directions concerning the route he favours, and our GPS finally reluctantly went along with our decision.  The drive to eastern France took about 4.5 hours.  Our little Twingo (the bigger cousin of the Twizy, which they don't yet rent) was sufficient, but without air conditioning or much power for the long climbs in the mountains.  I just had to swallow my pride and let BMWs, Audis, Mercedes, etc. pass me without effort.

We arrived in the little suburb of Belfort called Danjoutin, where we had booked an Ibis Budget hotel online several months ago.  The village was very quiet, with a few restaurants, and some very kind people.  The next day, we drove a few minutes to the little village of Trevenans, where we met Hélène Widmer, the Anabaptist genealogist with whom Janice has corresponded.  Over the decades, she spent many of her hours after work pouring over books of civil records covering Belfort and other archives.  She would write down each name known to be a "Mennonite" name, and the annotation accompanying it.  This is invaluable work.  From this, and other investigations, she pieced together stories, families, etc.

Hélène lives in the home where her parents had lived, with an attached barn, and her sister lives next door.   

I noticed that the inside doors still have fantastic hinges.  I had to wonder how old they might be by now.

Janice pointed out a lazy lizard sunning itself on the warm outside wall of the house.

Hélène's French was utterly clear, and she was truly patient with ours.  We were instantly on good terms.  The afternoon's tour and Sunday were to be just wonderful, providing insights into Anabaptist life in that part of the world.

Among other connections made over the weekend, it turns out that Hélène had a photo of Aunt Rachel Weaver Kreider, another avid genealogist.  Hélène was so pleased that we know and visit Aunt Rachel, and she kept repeating, "cent quatre ans!" (104 years old!)  We told her that Rachel was turning 105 on May 28. I also reported on some of Aunt Rachel's publications, what she did with her library and all her papers, etc.  These are questions Hélène is also facing.  Fortunately, a few scholars have already made photocopies of some of her work.

She created an informative family tree, of which this is but a part.  One can only admire such careful detective work.  And I marvel at how many families used the name "Christ" over and over, generation after generation.  "Christ Graber, son of Christ Graber" hardly helps us beginners.

We also looked at a map showing the Anabaptist areas.  The photo may not be adequate to show the word "Etobon" in the yellow area at the top of the map.  This is the village Janice has focused on for the Vonier family, both through civil records (online) and by our visit in 2011.

Before we turn to the tour itself, I had to take a photo of the chickens next door.  Since Janice's first pet was a chicken, our computers seem to have quite a few such photos.

Our first stop was at a Graber farm in Dambois.  The Grabers were very kind, allowing us to take photos.  By now, many living in old former Anabaptist farms are accustomed to North Americans descending, at times by the bus load, to catch a glimpse of some of the ancestral farms.  But this stop was special for us because we learned that the present residents of this renovated farm building are the parents of one of our Parisian friends, Anne-Cathy, who is actively involved as an Associate at the Centre Mennonite de Paris and is a sister in the Communauté du Chemin Neuf ('The New Way'). We are distant cousins.

Next, we headed off to see an ancestral Schadt farm in Grand Charmont.  "Schadt" is of course yet another version of the name Short/Shad, etc. Unfortunately, the municipality has purchased this once prominent and well-kept farm and has let it fall into disrepair.

Our next stop was to see the Goll farm not far away in Grand Charmont.  The nearness of these two farms (#1 and #19 on Rue de Paquis) may explain why Françoise Schadt (Short) married Jean Georges Goll in 1809.  The name 'Goll' is known in Northwestern Ohio because a daughter and her husband (also a Goll) donated their large farm with woods (Goll Woods Nature Preserve) to the State of Ohio.  I remember Janice enjoying our driving on a public road through the woods, its rich foliage sometimes forming a complete canopy through which you move, allowing us to marvel at the luxuriant growth and the woods itself, unharvested by any of European ancestry.

The doorway of this house has the inscription, G F G 1864. The initials stand for Georges Frederick Goll, the name of Françoise's father-in-law, who lived from 1751-1806, but identical names are used in families, and the date likely refers to a later GFG in the Goll family.
 

An elderly man came out of the garden to greet us and tell us about the Golls.  He even knew about the Goll Cemetery in Ohio!  Just before we left, he ensured that we admire this magnificent and orderly pile of nicely composted manure, calling it 'more valuable than gold.'  That's the kind of stuff that can make your veggies look terrific--far better than anything we can purchase in Vancouver.  They seem to 'harvest' it like peat.

Helene took us to two farms owned by the Lugbill families in Mont-Chevis, on the outskirts of Montbéliard. The first one is #50 and may have been owned by a Pierre Lugbill.

Just north of that one is #52, possibly owned by a Hans/Jean Lugbill. Janice would like to think that the Hans/Jean Lugbill is the one in her ancestry, but that would take some work to determine since the same names are used over and over.

We were shown a copy of an old photo of the Ferme du Mont-Chevis.

By enlarging part of it, we can catch a vague glimpse of some Anabaptist (Mennonite) women standing in the shade, wearing typical Anabaptist dress of the era.

The Lugbill farms are now owned by others, and new houses have been built on the former farmland. The family donated a plot of land nearby for the Mont-Chevis Anabaptist Cemetery.  For some time, Anabaptists were not allowed to bury in most Reformed or Catholic cemeteries.  By contrast, these days one hears of interesting dialogues and instances of cooperation between the various Christian groups.

The area in the eastern part of Montbéliard is becoming more and more industrial, much of it as a result of the xpansions of the Peugeot company. Tucked into the former farmland was a large Graber farm, now diminished in size by the Peugeot company and new houses that have been built. One of the large farmhouses on the main road has been renovated with government funds into La fromagerie du Pied des Gouttes (a cooperative where eight producers make cheese).  More information. The parking lot for the fromagerie (not pictured) is the site of the old church building (Les Gouttes) where the Anabaptists met, where many of  Janice's ancestors were baptized as teenagers in the 1800's. We visited one last Graber farm, this one is down a little road behind the fromagerie.

A granddaughter of the Grabers kindly talked to us, and pointed out a stone doorway which many Mennonites like to photograph:  "J 1 8   3 8 G" (signifying Jean Graber, 1838) but one would have to pore over genealogies to determine exactly which "Jean Graber" this is.

It is fun seeing the outside of these old former granaries/barns now being turned into comfortable modern homes.  Of course, houses and barns were often connected in this region, so only the home part needs modernizing, but sometimes some of the former barns were also being converted into living areas. We are pleased to see that at least some of the old buildings are being treasured and preserved.

We are glad we went!  I'm sure Janice will have still more questions for Hélène to ponder, and she in turn, benefited from Janice's solving the occasional problem.

Enough for now, with love from us both,

Evan

A Brief Visit To Chartres

Dear Mother,

Our days have been absolutely filled with work, activities, and now, a bit of travel.  On Tuesday, we joined the Bloughs and Constance (one of the profs in Janie's doctoral programme--she is graduating in days).  We piled into the car, wended our way through some heavy traffic, and then the roads finally opened up for good driving.  The day was overcast, even though all of our various weather apps predicted solid sunshine.  Don't believe everything you read.

We arrived by about 11:30 or so, parked underground, and walked uphill (all cathedrals seem to be uphill).  I enjoyed glancing down the narrow side streets of this medieval city.  The homes may no longer be medieval, but the street widths certainly can be.

We heard that when some people had walked from Paris to Chartres, they could see the towers from miles away.  

I spent a little time by myself on the south porch before entering.

Even though the day was overcast (and Janice would later be caught, far from the safety of the cathedral, in a downpour), the newly cleaned windows had good colour.

 The renovations on the ambulatory (where one can amble or walk around the apse) are nearly finished.  This was the first time I had seen the cathedral without scaffolding inside and out.  We were lucky.  In the fall, most of the nave will be covered with scaffolding and enormous plastic sheets.  They need to repair more of the plaster, clean more of the windows, and do some painting.

We heard Mr Miller give another of his lectures.  He has adopted Chartres as his home, though he is from Durham, England.  He has been giving these tours in English for 55 years.  He knows a lot, but I would like to have him give me a private tour so that anytime he tells me something I already know, he could move into more detail that would be of interest to me.  His audience (50 that day?) includes people seeing their first cathedral, tourists who never read about Chartres, and others.  He now speaks softly into a microphone and we hear him on headsets.  This meant that I heard everything he said (and each of his very loud coughs).  He is a marvelous institution, and we found that his interpretations of the windows and porch carvings are well-based on medieval understandings of theology.

After a delicious lunch (crêpes), I headed back into the cathedral while Janice explored the town.  I was delighted to be able to hear the organ!  It took me a while to realize that there was a funeral in progress, that the people were leaving while the organ was playing.  The great back doors were opened in honour of the deceased (I had to wonder if the Bishop of Chartres had presided, since doors are always opened for bishops) and people moved out into the rain.

Lots of candles were lit, possibly in honour of the deceased--entire banks of them, and there were surely not that many tourists present.  I enjoy the soft candle light and wonder what the cathedral would have looked like at night, lit only by candles.

The Bloughs and Constance drove back early afternoon, in order to miss rush hour traffic, and we lingered in the city, eventually taking the train back.  That proved more difficult that usual.  In the rain, and without a good sense of direction, we stoically marched off in the wrong direction.  Possibly 30 minutes later, we knew we were lost for sure and started asking directions.  I could tell from their puzzled looks and hesitations that there would be many twists and turns ahead.  Finally, I turned on my phone's data service and got directions from a good map.  It was a great day, Janice dried out, and we got back before all the stores had closed.  This let up pick up a few things for a light supper.

Today we are in the Belfort-Montbéliard region.  We are to meet with Hélène Widmer this afternoon.  She is a distant relative of Janice's and will be showing us some of the ancestral villages.

All for now, with love from us both,
Evan