Chaminade High School, Class of 1934, Senior Part 4

 Welcome to Chaminade High School in Dayton, Ohio! 

Yearbook Year: 1934, PART 4

Yearbook 1934 Series Links: Part 1   Part 2      Part 3   or if you want to view the whole yearbook, click here.

Seniors 31-40

31. Harold U. Hageman "Harry"

Harold Urban Hageman 

born: 01 Jun 1916 in Dayton, Ohio
died: 26 Jun 2002 in Kettering, Ohio, age 86

Parents: Urban Hageman (1887-1959) &

            Bertha M. Mundhenk (1888-1974)

In 1938, Harold married Florence Marie Artkamp (1918-1967). 

On 16 Oct 1940, Harold registered for WWII when he was 24. He was living at 719 Xenia Ave in Dayton, living with his wife Florence. His employer is his father, doesn't like the type of occupation. His description is listed as White, 5'11", 160 lbs, Gray Eyes, Brown Hair, and Light Complexion. 

On 29 Apr 1944, Harold enlisted in the military at Fort Thomas, Kentucky. His civil occupation is listed as a retail manager. 

In the 1950 US census, Harold is married, living at 3105 Linden in Dayton, working as a salesman at a dry goods store- his own business- probably passed down from his father. He's living with his wife Florence (age 31) and 5 children: Barbara E (age 11), James H (age 10), Eileen J. (age 7), Louise A. (age 3) and Mary G. (age 1). 

Harold died in 2002 at the age of 86 and is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton.

32. Ralph P. Halpin "Shorty"

Ralph Philip Halpin

born: 29 Aug 1916 in Dayton, Ohio
died: 08 May 2012 in Kettering, Ohio, age 95

Parents: James Patrick Halpin (1880-1968) &

            Mary Ann Thaman (1890-1967)

Ralph married Theresa Mae Sabatino (1916-1995)

On 16 Oct 1940, Ralph registered for the WWII. He was 24 and living at 1241 South Broadway in Dayton and working at Delco Product Corporation on First Street. His description states that he was White, 6'2", 175 lbs, Gray Eyes, Brown Hair and Light Complexion. 

In the 1950 US census, Ralph is living in Knollwood, Ohio as a sales engineer, living with his wife Theresa (age 33). They have no children. 

I couldn't find a record of burial for Ralph. 

33. Edward L. Haren "Eddie"

Edward Leo Haren Jr. 

born: 1915 in Ohio
died: 16 Jun 1955 in Ohio, age 40

Parents: Edward Leo Haren (1881-1920) &

            Mary Fitzgerald (1883-1944)

In the 1950 US census, Edward is a patient at the Still Water Sanitorium, a tuberculosis hospital. 

Edward never married or had children.

He is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton. 

34. Daniel N. Heeter "Dan"

Daniel Nelson Heeter

born: 12 Nov 1916 in Dayton, Ohio
died: 10 Jun 2004 in Marco Island, Florida, age 87 

Parents: Oscar Welson Heeter (1886-1952) & 

            Elizabeth Laginess (1886-1957)

On 30 Jul 1938, Daniel married Phyllis Camielle Murray (1915-1985). 

On 16 Oct 1940, Daniel registered for WWII when he was 23 years old. He was living at 1024 Chalker St. in Akron, Ohio with his wife, working at a commercial printing and lithography shop on West Exchange in Akron. He's described as White, 5'9", 160 lbs, Brown Eyes, Brown Hair and Dark Complexion. 

In the 1950 US census, Daniel was 33 working as a lithographer in a printing shop. He lived in Scott, Pennsylvania with his family- wife Phyllis (age 34), and children: Nelson (age 10), Barbara (age 8), Susan (age 7), Thomas (age 5) and Robert (infant). 

Daniel died in 2004 in Florida at the age of 87...I couldn't find any information on burial.

35. Richard C. Hempelman "Dick"

Richard Clarence Hempelman

born: 26 Mar 1916 in Cincinnati, Ohio
died: 02 Nov 1993 in Scottsdale, Arizona, age 77

Parents: Clarence Edward Hempelman (1885-1949) &

            Etta M. Buhlman (1890-1980)

On 06 Feb 1943 in Clark County, Ohio, Richard married Geraldine Lucy Beach (1920-2016). Online sources says he and Geraldine had 4 children.

Richard died in 1993 at the age of 77 and is buried in the Paradise Memorial Gardens in Scottsdale, Arizona. 

36. John A. Henehan 

John Adrian Henehan

born: 01 Jul 1916 in Dayton, Ohio

died: 10 Oct 2000 in Dayton, Ohio, age 84

Parents: John J. Henehan (1876-1969) &

            Bertha M. Windle (1883-1969)

On 16 Oct 1940, 24 year old John registered for WWII. He was living at 44 Fountain Ave in Dayton and worked at Moran Paint Company on Pine ST in Dayton. He is described as White, 5'11", 165 lbs, Blue Eyes, Brown Hair and Dark Complexion.

In 1943, John married Mary Ann Theresa Vehorn (1925-2015).

In the 1950 US census, 33 year old John is living in Oakwood, Ohio working as an office manager of a paint company. He lives with his wife Mary (age 24) and 2 children- Terry J. (age 3) and Thomas C (age 1). 

Family tree(s) online show that John and Mary had 8 children. 

John died on 2000 at the age of 84. He is buried beside his wife in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio. 

37. Daniel J. Hobbs "Dan"

Daniel John Hobbs

born: 07 Dec 1916 in Dayton, Ohio
died: 05 Jan 2007 in Miamisburg, Ohio, age 90

Parents: Isaac McKinley Hobbs (1879-1947) &

            Catherine Marie Friel (1885-1966)

On 19 Apr 1941, Daniel married Elizabeth Hobbs (1918-2013) in Celina, Ohio. They had one daughter, Sharon A. Hobbs (1949-2012). 

In the 1950 US census, 33 year old Daniel is living in Van Buren, Ohio, with his wife Elizabeth (age 31) and 2 children: Daniel (age 3) and Sharon (age 1). 

Daniel died in 2007 at the age of 90. He is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton. 

38. Jerome H. Hoertt "Jerry"

Jerome Howard Hoertt

born: 11 Jan 1917 in Dayton, Ohio

died: 07 Jan 1993 in Dayton, Ohio, age 75

Parents: Joseph Charles Hoertt &

            Elizabeth Emma Krimm (1887-1952) 

On 16 Oct 1940, Jerome registered for WWII at the age of 23. He was living at 2127 Stapleton Ct in Dayton, working at Lake Erie Bus Co on E. Third Street in Dayton. He is described as White, 5"8', 155 lbs, Brown Eyes, Black Hair and Dark Complexion. 

On 04 Feb 1941, Jerome enlisted in the military at Fort Thomas Newport in Kentucky. His civil occupation is listed as semiskilled mechanics and repairmen. 

Jerome died in 1993 at the age of 75 and is buried in Dayton National Cemetery in Dayton beside his wife Phyllis Ann Rohrer (1917-1985) 

39. Paul A. Hummer "Bud"

Paul Anthony Hummer

born: 30 Jan 1916 in Dayton, Ohio
died: 09 Nov 1980 in Dayton, Ohio, age 64

Parents: Leo Stephen Hummer (1889-1966) &

            May Emma Poole (1887-1975)

On 30 Sep 1939, Paul married Hellen Haines Lingg (1914-2000)

In the 1950 US census, 34 year old Paul is living in Dayton on Forest Glen Ave, working as a delivery Truck Driver for a dry cleaning retail store. He lives with his wife Helen (age 35) and 3 children: Marilyn (age 9), Kathleen (age 6) and John P. (age 2).

Paul died in 1980 at the age of 64 and is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio. 

40. John S. Kochendorfer "Corky"

John Sheldon Kochendorfer

born: 10 Dec 1914 in Ohio
died: 19 Apr 1982 in Piqua, Ohio, age 67

Parents: William A. Kochendorfer (1883-1943) &

            Effie Clark (abt 1880-1955)

On 16 Oct 1940, John registered for WWII at the age of 25. He was living at 1041 Wyoming St. in Dayton and working at the University of Dayton (might have been a student). He was described as White, 5'7', 140 lbs, Blue Eyes, Brown Hair, and Light Complexion. 

I couldn't find any record of a marriage or children.

John died in 1982 at the age of 67 and is buried in Forest Hill Cemetery in Piqua, Ohio. 

AI generated day-in-the-life narrative Part 4

 I asked AI to create a day-in-the-life third-person narrative for my 3rd great-grandfather Gerard Jeckering (1829-1898).

*This is for FUN-- not meant to be an accurate genealogical historical account of this person*

Prompt I requested: 

Can you describe the day-in-the-life of my 3rd great grandfather Gerhard Jeckering? He was born in 1829 in Hanover, Germany. He immigrated to America sometime before 1855. In April 1880, he is a grocery store owner, going by the name of George, the American version of his name Gerhard. He and his family live in the apartment above the grocery store on 3rd street in Dayton, Ohio. His wife is Maria Elisabeth goes by Elizabeth is 50. They have 7 children- John (25)- works with him in the store, Mary (age 23), Minnie (age 20), Lizzie (age 18), Clara (age 16), Joseph (age 10) and Rosa (age 6). Their daughter Louisa died in 1871 at the age of 5.

Here is the result: 

Gerhard “George” Jeckering – April 1880 – Dayton, Ohio

The sun had not yet crested the rooftops of Third Street when George Jeckering lit the stove in the shop downstairs. He moved through the familiar early-morning dim with practiced ease, his boots thudding softly on the fresh floorboards of the grocery. At 51, he still rose before the streetcars rumbled and the city fully woke. Habit, maybe — or perhaps it was something deeper, something he’d brought with him from the old country, across the sea from Hanover all those years ago.

He’d come to America a young man, full of the hope and hard-earned discipline that Germany instilled. Dayton had grown around him since then — streets widened, rail lines cut through, factories rose. But George had built something solid here, brick by brick, crate by crate: a store of his own. And above it, a home.

The smell of flour sacks and old oak barrels clung to the walls downstairs. Shelves lined with tins, jars, soaps, sacks of sugar and beans. Wooden crates of apples, potatoes, and onions. A row of hooks held cured meats behind the counter. He reached beneath the register for the ledger and began checking inventory before customers started trickling in.

By six-thirty, the door at the back creaked open and John appeared — his oldest, now 25, already rolling up his sleeves. He was a quiet young man, but dependable. George handed him a broom without a word, and they worked side by side to prepare the shop for the day. The father and son often communicated this way — through motion, through routine.

Upstairs, in the apartment above the store, Elizabeth was already at work herself. At 50, she carried the years in her hands more than her face — hands that had raised nine children, cooked thousands of meals, mended torn clothing, and pressed cool cloths to fevered brows. She boiled coffee on the stove while her daughters helped set the breakfast table.

Mary, 23, and Minnie, 20, moved easily around each other in the narrow kitchen space. Lizzie, 18, was humming softly as she wiped down the table. Clara, 16, was busy combing her long dark hair, half-listening to her sisters and half-watching her baby sister Rosa, now six, who was busy setting her doll at a place of honor on a dining chair.

Ten-year-old Joseph was still half-asleep, rubbing his eyes, tugging at his socks. He’d be sent off to school with a satchel of bread and jam and maybe a hard-boiled egg if Clara remembered to pack it.

There was one chair that remained empty, quietly so. It had been Louisa’s — gone now nearly nine years. Five years old when she died. George didn’t speak of it often, but he passed her gravestone nearly every Sunday after Mass and still remembered the warmth of her hand in his, so small, when she came toddling down the shop stairs to greet him.

By eight, the shop was open and George was weighing flour for a customer while John counted eggs. The bell above the door jingled steadily throughout the morning — neighbors coming in for coffee, molasses, tobacco, penny candy for their children. George greeted each by name. He spoke in English now, though his voice still held the soft shape of German, and among Dayton’s many German-American families, that accent was more common than not.

Elizabeth sent lunch down with Clara — a basket with cold chicken, bread, and pickles. George shared it with John on the bench behind the store, watching the wagons go by, talking softly about prices, about the city, about nothing in particular.

The afternoon brought another flurry of customers, but by five the foot traffic slowed. George and John swept the floors again, closed the register, locked the back door. Upstairs, the house was already filled with the scent of dinner — sausages sizzling, potatoes frying in a skillet, cabbage steaming. Elizabeth called everyone to the table with a firm voice, and the Jeckering family gathered — all seven children who remained at home, elbows bumping, voices rising and falling, laughter scattered in between.

After supper, the girls cleared the table while Joseph and Rosa played on the rug in the parlor. George retired to his wooden chair near the front window, pipe in hand, as the lamplighter passed on the street below. He watched the glow rise from the shop windows across the way, from the bakery, the tailor, the blacksmith’s forge now cooling down for the night.

He thought, sometimes, of Hanover. Of the narrow streets and the cobbled squares. Of his own father’s voice. But this place — this life he had carved out of labor and hope — was home now. The grocery was steady. His children were growing. His wife’s hands, though lined with time, still rested easily in his.

At night, the apartment grew quiet one voice at a time, until only the sounds of the city remained — a clatter of hoofbeats in the street, the far-off whistle of a train.

And George sat a while longer in his chair, grateful for the hum of an ordinary day.

AI generated day-in-the-life narrative Part 3

 I asked AI to generate a day-in-the-life third person narrative for my 2nd great-grandfather Joseph Herman Jeckering (1870-1931). 

*This is for FUN-- not meant to be an accurate genealogical historical account of this person*

Prompt I requested: 

Can you describe the day in the life of my 2nd great grandfather? His name was Joseph Herman Jeckering, born in 1870. He was the son of German immigrants. In April 1930, he's living in Dayton, Ohio, working as a clerk in a toy shop. Up until this census record, he'd only been in the grocery business. He lives with his wife Rose, age 53 and two children- Martha (age 23) and Norbert (age 21). Martha works at the telephone company and Norbert is a tool maker. His eldest two sons are no longer living with him and his youngest daughter Elizabeth died in 1923 at the age of 13. 

Here is the result: 

Joseph Herman Jeckering – April 1930, Dayton, Ohio

The morning sunlight slipped through the window above the kitchen sink, casting a soft glow across the table where Joseph Herman Jeckering sat with his coffee. At 59 years old, his hands were still steady, though stiffer than they used to be — hands that had once lifted crates of apples, tallied accounts in pencil, handed change to neighborhood families over the counter of a grocery store that bore his name.

Now, in a quieter chapter of his life, he worked as a clerk in a toy shop on Third Street.

It wasn’t the job he’d imagined for himself in his later years. But he had always been a man of steady purpose, shaped by the old German values of thrift, humility, and perseverance — the kind passed down from immigrant parents who built a life out of almost nothing. When the grocery business dried up, he didn’t complain. He simply found work elsewhere. And though he didn’t talk much about it, the toys — bright, cheerful, mechanical wonders — sometimes stirred something unexpected in him.

Rose stood across the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day. At 53, she still moved with purpose, though there was always a softness to her presence — something rooted in deep, abiding strength. They had weathered so much together. Four grown children. Decades of labor. And the hardest loss of all: their youngest daughter, Elizabeth, taken by illness in 1923 at just thirteen.

There were still mornings when Joseph lingered at the window a few extra seconds, watching the sun rise over the maple tree out front, remembering the way Elizabeth had once played beneath it in spring — braiding dandelions into necklaces, always humming.

Now, only Martha and Norbert remained in the house.

Martha, 23, came down the stairs already buttoning her jacket, a small clutch purse in one hand, her eyes quick and focused. She worked for the telephone company — not glamorous, perhaps, but steady work for a sharp young woman. She gave her father a kiss on the cheek, poured herself a quick cup of coffee, and disappeared out the door before seven.

Norbert followed not long after — 21, tall, lean, his boots already laced. He worked in a local machine shop as a toolmaker, a solid trade with long hours. Joseph was proud of him, even if the boy sometimes grew impatient, hungry for something bigger. He reminded Joseph of his older sons — both of whom were out of the house now, building lives of their own.

By eight, Joseph buttoned his coat and set out himself. The walk to the toy shop wasn’t far. He liked the familiarity of it — the rhythm of passing neighbors, the scent of early spring, the clatter of the streetcar a few blocks over. The shop was small but neat, its windows lined with wooden trains, tin wind-up animals, and boxes of marbles that caught the light like bits of captured sky.

Inside, Joseph moved deliberately, dusting shelves, unpacking new arrivals, greeting the occasional mother or child. Children didn’t always know what to make of the quiet older man behind the counter, but he didn’t mind. He liked to see their eyes light up when they spotted a jack-in-the-box or a pull-along duck that quacked as it moved. Sometimes, he thought of Elizabeth when he watched the little girls wander wide-eyed through the aisles. He kept that thought to himself.

At noon, he sat on a wooden stool near the back and ate a sandwich Rose had wrapped for him in wax paper. Ham and mustard. Simple. He read the Dayton Journal, squinting a little at the newsprint. Headlines about President Hoover, and the lingering fears after last year’s crash. People were tightening their belts. He understood that kind of worry — it had followed his family across the Atlantic two generations earlier.

After work, he walked home slowly, taking his time. Martha would be home before dark, and Norbert usually came through the back door just in time to wash up before supper. Rose would already have the roast in the oven, or cabbage and potatoes boiling on the stove.

Dinner was a simple, warm affair — always served with care, never rushed. The conversation turned to Norbert’s work, Martha’s new supervisor, a neighbor’s baby, the price of eggs. Joseph listened quietly, occasionally offering a few words of dry humor or wisdom. He didn’t need to say much. His presence alone was anchor enough.

Later, after the kitchen was cleaned and the house quieted, Joseph returned to his chair by the front window. He smoked a pipe now and then, though Rose didn’t care for it, so he kept it brief. Outside, the streetlamps flickered on one by one.

The house wasn’t loud anymore. It wasn’t full of children’s voices like it once had been. But it was still filled with the echoes of a life well-lived — the clink of silverware, the ticking clock, the memory of laughter down the hall.

Joseph sat with those sounds, content in their company.

Chaminade High School, Class of 1934, Senior Part 3

Welcome to Chaminade High School in Dayton, Ohio

Yearbook Year: 1934, PART 3

Yearbook 1934 series links:  Part 1 & Part 2 Or, if you want to view the whole yearbook Here. 

Seniors 21-30

21. William G. Flanagan "Bill"

William George Flanagan "Bill"

born: 12 Mar 1916 in Dayton, Ohio

died: 06 Sep 1994 in Centerville, Ohio, age 78

Parents: Simon Flanagan (1868-1937) &

             Anna Cassidy (1867-1955)

Around 1940, William registered for WWII. He was living at 715 Bowen St. in Dayton, living with his wife Dorothy Jane and working at the National Cash Register (NCR) on Maine Street. 

William married Dorothy Jane (1916-1997), but I couldn't find any children.

William died on 05 Sep 1994 at the age of 78 and is buried in the David's Cemetery in Kettering, Ohio beside his wife.

22. Paul G. Gaeke "Delicate Red" (twin of Vernon E. Gaeke below)

    Paul George Gaeke

 
   born: 17 Jan 1916 in Dayton, Ohio

   died: 24 Jul 1998 in Defiance, Ohio, age 82

   Parents: Clarence Bernard Gaeke (1884-1941) &

                Caroline "Carrie" G. Deneke (1885-1951)

  About 1940, Paul registered for WWII. He was 24 years old living at 310 Morton Ave in Dayton, Ohio. He worked at Acme Pattern & Tool and Anne Marie Gaeke is listed as his wife. His description is listed as White, 5'3", 140 lbs, Brown Eyes, Red Hair and Ruddy Complexion. 

   Paul married Anne Marie McCluskey (1915-2005) and 

   they had 4 children: 

   

   1. Paul Eugene Gaeke (1940-2015)

   2. Albert Melvin Gaeke (1942-1999)

   3. Geraldine "Jerrie" Gaeke

   4. Betty Gaeke 

Paul died in 1998 at the age of 82 and is buried beside his wife in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio.

23. Vernon E. Gaeke "Vern" (twin of Paul G. Gaeke above)

   Vernon Edward Gaeke

   born: 17 Jan 1916 in Dayton, Ohio

   died: 09 Apr 1997 in Kettering, Ohio, age 81

   Parents: Clarence Bernard Gaeke (1884-1941) &

                Caroline "Carrie" G. Deneke (1885-1951)

   About 1940, Vernon registered for WWII. He was 24 years old, living on 307 Morton ST in Dayton. His description is listed as White, 5'8", 170 lbs, Brown eyes, Brown Hair, Ruddy complexion and "loss of fingers on left hand". 

   Vernon married Marian Grace Wolf (1918-2007) and 

   they had 3 children: 

 

   1. Thomas Paul Gaeke (1943-2008)

   2. Rita Marie Gaeke (1945-2016)

   3. unknown name

Vernon died in 1997 at the age of 81. He is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio beside his wife.

24. Charles H. Gerwels "Charlie"

 Charles Henry Gerwels

 
born: 13 Mar 1916 in Dayton, Ohio
died: 10 Mar 2008 in Goshen Elkhart, Indiana, age 91

Parents: Karl Charles Henry Gerwels (1885-1940) &

            Clara Mary Echemann (1881-1959)

Charles married Frances Elizabeth Beres (1917-1996) on 25 April 1939 in Dayton, Ohio.

About 1940, Charles registered for WWII at the age of 24. He was living at 520 Daytona Parkway in Dayton, Ohio and Frances E. Gerwels is listed as his wife. He is working at Premier Rubber Company. His description is listed as White, 5'9 1/2", 170 lbs, Blue eyes, Blonde Hair, and light complexion. 

In the 1950 United States census, Charles is living at 556 Kenwood Ave with his wife Frances (age 32) and 6 children: Charles JR (age 9), Eileen (age 8), John (age 5), Julie (age 4), Paul (age 2) and David (age 1). Charles is working as a chemical engineer at a rubber manufacturer. 

556 Kenwood Ave, Dayton, Ohio
Photo Courtesy of Zillow.com

Charles died in 2008 at the age of 91. He is buried beside his wife at the Violett Cemetery in Goshen, Indiana. Listed on their gravestone is a list of their 13 children: 

Charles, Eileen, John, Julie, Paul, David, Thomas, Mary, Michael, Edward, Frances, Christine, and Joseph. 

 

25. Albert A. Giambrone "Al"

 Liberto Antonio "Albert" Giambrone

 born: 13 Sep 1916 in Dayton, Ohio

 died: 28 Mar 1966 in Dayton, Ohio, age 49

    cause of death: ALS

  

 Parents: Anthony Charles Giambrone (1887-1971) &

             Virginia Mary Silvestri (1876-1967)

In 1940, Albert married Letitia G. Mastandrea (1915-2019)

 In 1950, Albert was living at 174 Seminary Ave, Apt 8 in Dayton, Ohio. He was working as Vice President of Wholesale Fired Agent- his own business. He was living with his wife Letitia J (age 34) and 3 children: Carmella (age 7), Albert (age 3) and Howe. 

Albert died at the young age of 49 of ALS and is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio. 

26. Oliver J. Gottschall "Fat"

   Oliver James Gottschall

   born: 1915 

   died: 03 Sep 1935 in Dayton, Ohio, age 19

   Parents: William McKinley Gottschall (1891-1919) &

                Sarah C. Koehler (1892-1978)

   Oliver never married or had children. He died at the young age of 19 years old and is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio with his parents.

  

27. Francis G. Grigsby "Frank"

  

    The only thing I could find for Francis is a Frank Grigsby (born 1918 in Tennessee) living in Dayton, Ohio in 1930 on Meridian Street with his family. I'm not sure if this is the same Frank Grigsby. 

28. Wendell P. Grigsby "Skipper"

  Wendell Payne Grigsby

  

  born: 10 Jan 1915 in Ohio

  died: 10 Jan 1973 in Fulton, Georgia, age 58

  Parents: Oscar Wendell Grigsby (1885-1955) &

                Romania L. Payne

  On 05 Apr 1938, Wendell married Dorothye Maye Pollard in Allegheny, Pennsylvania. 

    Wendell enlisted in the military on 21 Nov 1945 in New Hampshire. He was ranked as a Staff Sergeant in the air corps. His civil occupation was a fireman. 

Wendell's WWII draft card describes him as 5'7", 134 lbs, light brown complexion, black hair color, brown eyes and next of kin being his wife Dorothy. 
            

29. Thomas C. Grundish "Tom"

  Thomas Collins Grundish 

  

   born: 01 Dec 1916 in Ohio

   died: 02 Oct 1989 in Dayton, Ohio, age 72

   Parents: Thomas Clay Grundish (1875-1937) &

                Mary F. Collins (1881-1959)

   I couldn't find a marriage record or children. 

30. John M. Hagg "Johnny"

  John M. Hagg

  born: abt 1915 in Ohio 

  died: Unknown

  Parents: Unknown

  I did find a John Haag in the 1950 US census, born in Ohio, living on 3461 Wonderview in Dayton with his wife Virginia (age 30) and son Ronald (age 10). His occupation is a supervisor for a service department at an automotive parts manufacturing company. 

 Although some information matches, I'm not 100% sure if this is the right person. 

AI generated day-in-the-life narrative Part 2

I asked AI to create a day-in-the-life third-person narrative for my great grandfather- Gerhard C. Jeckering (1900-1967). 

*This is for FUN-- not meant to be an accurate genealogical historical account of this person*

Gerhard and Josephine Jeckering, 50th wedding anniversary

Prompt I requested: Can you describe the day in the life of my great grandfather? His name was Gerhard Jeckering, born in 1900. In April 1940, he's living in Dayton, Ohio, working as a toolmaker. He lives with his wife Josephine, age 44, 6 children and his younger sister Martha, age 34. His children are Paul (age 14), Richard (age 13), Rita (age 12), Rosemary (age 9), Joan (age 6), and Joseph (age 4 months). 

Here is the result: 

A Day in the Life of Gerhard Jeckering – April 1940, Dayton, Ohio

The morning light seeps through the curtains of the modest two-story home on a quiet street in Dayton. Gerhard Jeckering, now 40 years old, stirs just after 5:00 a.m. The house is still quiet — a rare moment of calm before the day truly begins. Beside him, his wife Josephine breathes steadily in her sleep, though she’ll be up soon too, roused by the needs of a newborn and a bustling household.

He dresses in sturdy work clothes — a worn shirt, suspenders, and thick-soled boots — clothes fit for his job as a toolmaker at one of Dayton’s many machine or manufacturing shops. The war in Europe hasn’t yet drawn the U.S. in, but the industrial sector is picking up, preparing for what many suspect is inevitable. His skills, honed over years, are valuable — he works with precision and pride.

He steps quietly through the hallway so as not to wake the children. Paul and Richard, his teenage boys, sleep in a shared room, often talking late into the night. Rita and Rosemary share another room, filled with dolls and schoolbooks, and little Joan sleeps in a small cot near the baby’s room. Martha, his 34-year-old sister, is already up, quietly starting coffee in the kitchen. She moved in to help Josephine with the children — especially after the birth of baby Joseph just four months ago.

Gerhard eats a quick breakfast — strong coffee, a couple of eggs, toast with butter — then checks his wristwatch and grabs his lunch pail packed by Josephine the night before. A thermos of more coffee, a sandwich, maybe an apple. By 6:00 a.m., he’s walking to the streetcar line, nodding to neighbors doing the same. He boards the car that takes him across the city to the tool shop where he’s worked for over a decade.

The shop is loud, filled with the hiss of steam and the grind of machines. Gerhard spends hours shaping and fitting metal parts with meticulous care. He enjoys the precision of the work — there's a rhythm to it, a satisfaction in getting something just right. He trades stories with the other men on the floor, many of them fellow German-Americans like himself, some even first-generation like he is.

At noon, he eats lunch on a bench out back, reading the Dayton Daily News — updates on Roosevelt’s latest policies, news from the war in Europe, maybe a sports column. He worries sometimes about what the world will be like for his sons, Paul and Richard, if the war spreads.

By 4:00 p.m., his shift ends. He returns home as the sun begins to fall behind the rooftops. He walks in to a chaotic but warm house — kids running, Josephine trying to keep baby Joseph quiet while cooking dinner, and Martha folding laundry. The smell of meatloaf or roast chicken fills the house, and the family eats together at the table, talking over one another, passing plates, laughing, arguing. Rita shares something from school, Rosemary insists on showing him a drawing, and Joan climbs into his lap.

After dinner, the children do homework or read while he repairs a broken chair leg or reads the paper. He might listen to the radio for a bit — maybe The Lone Ranger or a swing music program — while bouncing baby Joseph in his arms.

By 9:00 p.m., the children are tucked into bed after a round of prayers. Gerhard stands for a moment in the hallway, looking in at each sleeping face — his children, his pride. He thinks about the future, his role as a father, the weight of responsibility, and the blessings he has.

Then he turns in, back to bed beside Josephine. Another day begins soon.

AI generated day-in-the-life narrative

Lately, I have seen many people asking AI (artificial intelligence) to recreate a day-in-the-life narrative of one their ancestors and thought I'd give it a try! 

For this project, I used a photo of my grandparents, father and his two siblings on Christmas Day, 1953- 

This is the prompt I gave to AI: 

Can you describe the day in the life of my grandfather on his last Christmas in 1953? His name was Paul Jeckering, he was 28 years old, living in Dayton, Ohio with his wife Dorothy, age 27, and 3 children in a 2 bedroom house. The children were Jean (age 5), Mike (age 3), and Karla (age 2). Dorothy is pregnant with their 4th child, due in April. Paul was working at the National Cash Register but has been diagnosed with kidney failure and is severely sick. He is in bed most of the day, even though it's Christmas day and poses for a photo in his bathrobe with his family.

 This is the result: 

Paul Jeckering – Christmas Day, 1953 – Dayton, Ohio

Snow had fallen through the night, layering the rooftops and sidewalks of Dayton in soft white silence. Inside the small two-bedroom house, the scent of cinnamon and coffee hung in the air, mingled with the sounds of young children waking to Christmas morning. Jean, five years old and full of holiday excitement, led the way down the hallway, whisper-shouting to her younger siblings. Mike, three, shuffled close behind, holding his sister’s hand, while little Karla — just two — toddled along, more fascinated by the shadows on the walls than by the idea of presents.

In the living room, the tree stood modestly decorated, its lights twinkling gently in the early light. Beneath it, a scattering of wrapped gifts waited patiently. The floor was soon alive with the rustle of paper and the delighted squeals of small voices. Dorothy moved quietly around the room, keeping a gentle pace as she watched her children — her hand resting now and then on her growing belly. Their fourth child was due in April.

But it was Paul everyone watched for.

At 28, he was far too young to be this sick. His kidneys were failing — a slow and brutal unraveling that had crept over the past year. Once strong, full of movement and life, Paul now spent most of his days in bed, his body thin and worn. But this morning, he’d insisted on coming downstairs, if only for a while. “Just long enough to see their faces,” he’d said softly.

It had taken effort, but with Dorothy’s help and quiet determination of his own, Paul made his way to the living room and sat on the couch beside her. He wore his bathrobe — flannel, faded, tied snugly at the waist — and smiled through the fatigue. His dark hair was combed neatly, his eyes tired but focused.

He had always been a man of quiet depth — a gifted sculptor, with hands that shaped clay and wood into expressive, delicate forms. Long before he fell ill, and even before the war, Paul had drawn and carved with a talent that surprised those who knew him only as a machinist at National Cash Register. After serving in the Pacific during World War II — a chapter of his life he rarely spoke of in detail — he returned home with an even deeper appreciation for beauty, for silence, for the things that endure. His art was never for praise or attention. It was how he processed the world. How he left a mark.

That morning, Dorothy gathered the family for a photograph. Paul shifted carefully, drawing Karla onto his lap, her curly head resting against his chest. Dorothy sat beside him, her hand gently tucked into his. Jean and Mike knelt on the floor in front of them, close together, Jean leaning toward her brother with a proud, protective air. The tree glowed behind them, and outside the window, snowflakes still fell.

Dorothy steadied the camera, clicked the shutter.

A moment captured — a father in his last Christmas, surrounded by his young family, holding them close despite the pain. The photo would later become a cherished memory, a reminder of presence, of love, of resilience in the face of fading time.

Later, Paul returned to bed, exhausted but grateful. From down the hall he could hear the children’s laughter and the crinkle of wrapping paper, Dorothy’s voice soft and steady as she read aloud to them. The house was filled with life, and though his body was failing, his spirit was not.

That night, as the world quieted once again, Paul looked toward the soft lights of the tree, still glowing faintly. He felt the warmth of Dorothy’s hand in his, the ache of his body, and the comforting weight of having been there — not just in the room, but truly present.

It was Christmas. And he was still an artist, still a husband, still a father.

Still here.