The Michigan Roses

Edward J. Rose at Around 20 Years Old The Quiet Man At the dawn of the 20th century, the American cultural landscape was dominated by the mythology of Horatio Alger—tales of gritty boys heading west to find fortune through sheer "luck and pluck." My grandfather, Edward, was a notoriously quiet, slow-moving man from New York. But by 1921, at the age of 37, he was still single, living with his younger brother, and restless for a change. Inspired by the real-life success of Will

Historical Note: Though it’s been over 60 years ago, I still have dreams about my Grandpa’s house in Ortonville, Michigan. Like so many dreams, they don’t make a lot of sense but the identity of the dreamscape is usually self-evident in the moment. The actual scene in many of those dreams will seem particularly odd: the only bathroom in the little house! I could speculate on the psychology of bathroom dreams but I will spare you more weirdness. Suffice to say, the color and s

Historical Note: It is impossible to ignore the irony of what took place in Metamora, Michigan on Mother’s Day of 1938: the hit and run death of my Uncle Bob, riding his bicycle in the morning doing an errand for his dad, when he was struck by a drunk motorist. Ed and Lottie were permanently scarred by the trauma and grief and in many ways never recovered. It was never discussed in their home. Even my dad, Roger, would only have bits and pieces of memory. There is no doubt t

Historical Note: This is a memory written by my dad, Roger, about his dad, Ed. It is word for word as Roger told it. This is a family photo of Ed holding the watering can and leading his sheep. I have a picture printed on my memory of Dad and his watering can. It's around 7;30 on a summer evening. In those days before daylight savings time the shadows are already lengthening but Dad has on his wide brimmed straw hat anyway. He never went out of the house in the summer without

Historical Note: My dad, Roger, grew up on a farm in Metamora, Michigan. I’m glad he told stories about his childhood. I wish I would have asked him to tell more before he passed. Though some of the details of this story are dramatized for interest, it is all based on the actual events. Back when Roger was a little boy, growing up on the farm in Metamora, Michigan, Christmas was celebrated a lot differently than it is now. First was the Christmas Tree. They had trees back t

Lottie Ware Historical Note: Though diaries and personal journals have existed for hundreds of years, it was only in the beginning of the 20th century that they became common place in a young American girl’s bedroom. A safe place to share her most secret thoughts. For most of my youth the only image I had of my Grandma Rose was a tiny, shriveled old lady who always seemed worried about something. As I explored her younger years, I was surprised to learn what an independent,