Mj Pettengill

Recently, my years of research and family history collided.

The original blog was replaced with a simple poem. Here's why...

"Who knows the fate of little August? The Lord knows. And be prepared to accept that his mother will not return."

There were many children like August and Billy. Where are they now?

May the little ones be mothered, as they should be, and all of us raised up from the deeps, Amen.

More stories are to be told as words flow downstream, not to be missed or forgotten.

CARROLL COUNTY FARM CEMETERY 1870 — Beyond the mournful numbers, lie no more grief or fear. No sad or sweet thoughts linger, for those...

In “Etched in Granite,” we came to know Abigail, Silas, Nellie, and the others. Their tales, carefully woven together, bound by their...

Survival depended on communities coming together and supporting one another.

The steady song of the cicada emerges in August, signaling the winding down of the summer season. Family and friends gather together and...

How can we really know who we are? We may think that we know, but everything is subject to change. This is what I have observed. I am a...