My paternal grandfather, born to a pioneer family in 1881 on the plains of Kansas, wrote a book for our family, a collection of his memories of a life that spanned a time when he still saw Indians water ponies in the creek to seeing a man walk on the moon. The following is pulled from the introductory pages from the book. It is a glimpse of a world unknown to us, a little picture of why so many of our ancestors were willing to risk all and sacrifice much to come to America, and their struggles to build a home in the wilderness.

My father was born on January 8, 1831, in Luxemburg, a small country. I believe it lies between France and Germany. In those days an education was not considered important at all. My father and older brother spent much of their teenage years working in a stone quarry from early until late for ten cents per day. Naturally, they became discouraged and decided to come to America and look for something better. After borrowing a few dollars from their uncle, they got passage on a ship, and by working at anything they could find, they finally landed at Leavenworth Kansas. (more…)