Constant, Constantine, Costantas, Kostanty, Kostantas, Konstantas, Stanley (yes, his name on the 1920 census is Stanley!).... Bird, Paukstis, Pauksztz, Paukstys, Paukstas, Paukstenas.....
Who was this mysterious man?
He came from the "lowlands" in southern Lithuania- probably the Vilnius area, or did he come from Sialiai in the north.
His wife (Julia Brindza Paukstis) and his daughter (Amelia Ernest) are buried next to Stanislawa Paukstiene (?-1927) and George Paukstis, so George must be related to Constant.
He immigrated from Lithuania either in 1885 (per 1920 census) or in 1894 (per 1910 census).
His wife was 8 years younger than he was, and immigrated in 1900 (at the age of 12), so they were probably married in Pittsburgh, PA.
His first daughter, Amelia Caroline, was born in 1903. Her middle name is that of her maternal grandmother.
He was naturalized in 1904.
His son Leo Joseph (my grandfather) was born in 1905. His maternal grandfather's name was George, so could Joseph be a Paukstis family name?
Stanley (nickname Oscar) was born in 1908.
In 1910 he listed "bartender" as his occupation.
He died on October 25, 1925, and was buried in the 'indigent' section of the Calvary cemetery. Why was he not buried in Saint Casimir's cemetery (the Lithuanian Catholic cemetery), where the other Paukstises are? Was it too expensive? 2 years later, when his wife died, George Paukstis bought 4 plots in St Casimir's cemetery.
This is all we know about the mystery that is the Paukstis family.
Monday, June 30, 2008
where I come from
I'm obsessed lately with figuring out anything and everything related to my ancestry and family tree. This is what I'm supposed to do when I'm retired, not when I'm 30 and in grad school, barely able to hold down the fort. And now I'm writing about it too, as if THIS is what I should be writing about! I spend hours and hours thinking up all the possible spellings, americanizations, lithuanizations, polishizations, russianizations, and plain old misspellings of ancestors' names, doing search after search. Calling cemeteries in the middle of the day. And I feel some kind of connection or authority when I find out one of my ancestors is buried in their cemetery. Weird me.
It's like I'm trying to piece together a story about each of their lives, and each bit of information gives me a glimpse into their lives. I don't know how much they really have to do with me, but I have their names and some of their cultures, and some of their stories have been passed on to me.
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