The Summerland Advocate-Messenger - Reliable, Trustworthy Reporting, Capturing The Heartbeat Of Our Community

Sometimes, intuition and curiosity take you down a rabbit hole.

Last week, in this column, I wrote about my maternal great-great-grandmother and mentioned I didn’t know much about my paternal great-grandparents.

First, though, a little backstory.

I know my grandmother’s parents - Henry and Mary - owned the movie theater in Wausa. Great-grandpa was quite an entrepreneur. He built a miniature golf course there in the early 1900s, farmed and raised hogs at the family farm about two miles out of town “as the crow flies” and dabbled in other business ventures, hawking land he owned in town.

He was strict - maybe too strict - according to my grandmother. She loved school and never forgave him for forcing her to quit after she finished eighth grade so she could work on the family farm.

I’m not certain what transpired or even when, but Grandma always maintained her father abandoned the family ... just up and left, vanished, without a trace.

My great-grandmother was buried in Iowa, near where she grew up. I remember our family paying respects at her grave during a summer day’s outing in the 1970s. I don’t remember Henry’s grave there, but to be honest, I doubt I was paying attention then.

Back to last week. Wednesday afternoon, as I was re-reading the Advocate-Messenger, a nagging feeling told me to search for Grandma Larson’s parents.

Open web browser, type name in search bar. I found a few listings, including old newspaper clippings about Great-grandpa playing in a horseshoe tournament in Fremont, among other items.

For years, Mom sludged through Ancestry.com records, hoping to find relatives on either of Dad’s side of the family. Even though Mom was a good sleuth - translate: former librarian - she was unable to locate former generations. She was able to track Henry to Washington state, where he popped up in the census, but he was not included in the next one. She searched neighboring states for information. No death certificate. No obituary. Nothing.

All leads led to dead ends.

So, imagine my surprise when I found photos of my great-grandparents on another popular family history site. I had never seen pictures of either one until Wednesday. Looking at a photo of Henry reminded me of photos I have seen of my dad as a young man. Crazy!

While there was a photo of Mary’s grave, there was not one of Henry’s. A date of death was listed for him, approximately one year before the birth of my father. I found that strange, because Dad had shared a few stories about Henry.

Luckily, a user name was linked to the photos, so I sent a message, hoping for a reply. A couple hours later, I connected with a long-lost cousin.

While she answered a few questions, what she didn’t say or know has created an even deeper mystery. On the website, she coupled Henry’s information with Mary’s because she could not locate where he is buried. She isn’t sure why she listed the year she recorded, and following our chat, added new data I was able to provide.

What happened to Henry?

The cousin I met did share names of Mary’s and Henry’s parents, so it has been interesting to attempt to find more information, although Henry’s parents are as much a mystery as he is.

Author Liam Callanan, in “The Cloud Atlas,” writes, “We’re all ghosts. We all carry, inside us, people who came before us.”

I am on a mission to find the ghost who left his family. I doubt it will be an easy road, but I’m determined to discover the person who came before me and hopefully, understand his motivations.

I’ll bring you along on the journey, keep you apprised of any new revelations.