A question that keeps recurring is "How did my relatives meet?"  Unless one is into the genealogical mode the mixture of names is a minefield.  Young people met through church, neighborhood gatherings, and school.  The latter by far the lesser of these meeting places because few went beyond the eighth grade, if that far.  To try to reconstruct how these people met is an exercise in futility.  One thing of which we can be sure in my family is that they were farmers and German.  I think a weaver and a printer was among them somewhere.  One teacher of 50-year experience was listed.  Anyway Hasenphlug, Heussner, Duthe, are predominant in this family history.  Of course, there were girls who also married Kolb, Bechstein, Spiegelberg and countless others who remain as recorded family history, not even a dim memory. Sorting out the siblings must depend on family Bible records, and snatches of family writings.  Too many genealogists depend entirely on census records, immigration reports etc. Such records are known to be filled with errors because the recorders more often than not did not understand the language and guessed at what was being told to them.  In my Eppley background I have a story that will amuse and amaze you and take a dim view of record keepers of old.

Just to keep from muddying the waters I will start with my great grandparents.  Adam Heussner and Elizabeth Hasenphlug ( the original spelling)  took up housekeeping on a farm on Telegraph Road (Route 113 now) in what is now known as South Amherst.  Then it was Henrietta Township.  To this union was born 6 children.
William Henry. b.11/6/1844 married Mary Lapp    Mary Elizabeth b. 16/3/1853 d.17/5/79
John Adam b 19/71847 married Martha Fuller       Aurelia b.15/3/1856 married John Dute
Elbert Theodore b 23/10/1850  d. 25/4.1852           Edward b. 24/8/1859 m Anna Forbes

Son Elbert is sometimes recorded as Albert.  However, the family records and relatives who were in the immediate family long ago verified the spelling as did a Memorial card. Aurelia Heussner, the 5th child, was my grandmother. Her parents, Adam and Elizabeth Heussner were born in Kolkobes, Germany and Hannas Kreis, Hersfield Germany, respectively.

John and Aurelia were second cousins.  John was the fourth child of Casper and Mary Heidenreich Dute. Johannes Henry Hasenphlug married Anna Martha Duthe whose brother George Duthe was Casper's father. Confused yet?  The name Duthe is of French derivation, but it's so far back we still consider it German through and through.  When they came to America they dropped the h and the accent over the e which would have resulted in the pronunciation Dutay instead of Duty.

Amherst, Ohio was and is a small town like many other mid-western towns. Contrary to popular belief it didn't get its name from Amherst, Massachusetts. When the township was formed in 1830, a New Englander, Jonas Stratton from Amherst, New Hampshire suggested the name. Even then the town was not known as Amherst. In the early days after the first settler arrived in 1811 they called the settlement The Corners. It probably suited the small collection of houses that existed. One road lead to Milan where grain had to be hauled for grinding, the other was a direct line to Lake Erie. Shupe saw the need immediately for a grist mill, saw mill and distillery. The first two were obvious necessities to the growth of the settlement. These he built on his property at the corner of Kolbe Road and Cooper Foster Park Road. The roads did not have the distinction of names at the time. The distillery was also a necessity, strange as it may seem. Spirits were frequently used as legal tender. Neighbors helped neighbors, volunteers built community buildings, churches and the like. However, spirits were expected as pay.

Although Jacob Shupe has been considered the first settler it was after Josiah Harris arrived in 1818 that there was more growth. Harris and others began to make a clearing on the land that now holds the Town Hall. It was known as The Corners in those early days. Amherstville became the name by which the town was registered by the county in 1836... It doesn't end there. Sometime, there doesn't seem to be a record, Plato was the name by which residents received their mail. It remained Plato until 1866 when North Amherst was registered in Washington as the postal name.

A settlement to the south actually had the first post office in the area. It had started with the name Black River Post Office but somehow it became Amherst and what is now Amherst was North Amherst. When the railroad went through North Amherst around 1853 it caused a growth that had not been anticipated. So, at the turn of the century North Amherst petitioned Washington postal authorities to become Amherst. When I was in high school it was thought that the tremendous rivalry between the two schools was of sports origin but the bitterness was deeper than a normal sports rivalry. Some of the residents to the south of us were known to carry a sign up and down the street reading and shouting "Save our Town." The outcome was not to their liking and they became South Amherst while North Amherst was allowed to drop the North. That was 1909 the year my mother graduated from Amherst High School. It all sounds so unimportant now.

It isn't very hard to understand South Amherst's bitterness that has mellowed over the years. Many sandstone quarries dot the area, but the largest (in the world) and best vein of sandstone lies clearly in the South Amherst village. At the turn of the century a furniture dealer, O. H. Baker, coined the expression "Amherst Sandstone Center of the World" and had it published on his stationery. That declaration still has a prominent place in front of the Town Hall, a sandstone structure built in 1884.

The name Amherst, even though it came to us from New Hampshire, had its origin the same as all other Amhersts across northern America and southern Canada. Jeffrey Amherst, an English commander, was brought to America to defeat the French which he did. Probably some simple research would show which town was the first to adopt his name. Amherst, Massachusetts remains the best known city under that name

Amherst, Ohio is in part of the Connecticut Reserve. The first settlers were largely from Pennsylvania, and the New England States. Most of the newcomers were farmers but the quarry brought in many Scots who were master stone cutters. Their handiwork can be seen on many sandstone buildings and monuments in Cleveland, Canada, and in states on both coasts. Bob Hope's father was one of the stone masons in Cleveland who built the Presbyterian Church on Euclid Avenue. One of the Amherst stone cutters who once spoke at an historical meeting claimed that he had some of the tools once owned by Hope's father and that he had visited our quarries. The stone is considered some of the finest in the country. The most recent claim to notoriety is that Bill Gates of Microsoft computer fame had visited the quarries on two occasions to select the stone he wanted for his home.

Besides the numerous Scottish stonecutters there was an abundance of German settlers. Many of them came from the same general area of Germany. These were mostly farmers.

Saturday night was the night when the stores were open until 10 o'clock. There were few cars in town. Our family was not one of those to own one so we walked five blocks to the shopping district. Up one side of the street and down the other was the plan followed. Of course, there were many friends to see along the way. Little clusters of friends would catch up on the town news. We "shopped" at most of the stores. "Shopping" was window shopping mostly. This was a method to learn what a family member liked or didn't like so a birthday or Christmas gift was sometimes identified. When I was in high school I remember a jewelry store, the only one in town. I would admire something every week. On one such journey I recall seeing a crystal drop on a silver chain. The drop was cut with many facets. The admiration of that drop paid off at Christmas. I still own and wear that coveted piece of jewelry. The walk around town ended at Kuss's Drug Store or George Brothers Ice Cream Parlor for a dish of ice cream or a soda. At Kuss's Drug Store there was a small table and small chairs identical to those for the grown-ups. I liked sitting there, but I didn't like to sit alone so my mother would accommodate by joining me. On the way home we would usually stop at Ada's, (my mother's cousin) to chat and perhaps to rest. It was about half way home. Those nights were special and the walk was probably good for us. Alas, a car was purchased later and that was the last time we walked the distance. Also, stores are more likely to close earlier on Saturdays than any other day. I did attempt roller skating on the walks to town, but the sandstone sidewalks were very uneven.

Ethel Valerie Eppley Jenkins Gerstenberger is quite a mouthful. The final name is the only one that appears to identify me with the German background. In reality except for Jenkins many, many generations of all ancestors trace back to Germany. My mother descended from the Dute family, her father, and the Huessner family by her mother. Both families arrived early in the 19th century.

The Dute name we know was once spelled Duthe with the French accent ague over the e. This prompted some research by a cousin, Fred Griswold, whom I have yet to meet except by e-mail. He found that that the Duthe famly probably originated on an island off the coast of Frence The family may have migrated to Germany during the purge of the Huguenots in the reign of one of the Louis. Great, great grandfather Georg Dute arrived in America from Asmushausen in 1834 with his only child, Casper. Casper married Mary Heidenreich, another good German family who had settled early on in neighboring Brownhelm by the Vermilion River. Even though Brownhelm and Amherst are today considered to be close in distance it was probably some distance in those early days. So how Casper Dute and Mary Heidenreich met is a bit of a puzzle, or was it the bond of their German ancestry? Nationalities bonded out of desire and necessity. Casper and Mary became parents of 15 children. All lived to adulthood except the final child who died soon after birth.

Georg settled about ½ mile from Lake Erie on the bank of Beaver Creek. Beaver Creek was a wide and sometimes raging stream that powered the first grist mill and the first saw mill. Rivers were of great importance to the early settlers. Both the Beaver Creek and Vermilion River flowed directly to Lake Erie and provided power for those who had mills as well as being a necessary source of water for their daily needs. The Heidenreichs settled on the Vermilion River. The close proximity of the lake was one half mile for one family and less than two miles for the other. Georg and his wife built a log cabin that they called home for eight years. Then they purchased property from Jacob Shupe at the corner of Kolbe and Cooper Foster Roads. This homestead was torn down in 2002 by the Church of the Nazarene who had built their church on the property. The homestead was used as the parsonage for a many years.

My father's family, the Eppleys, originally settled in the Zanesville, Ohio area and only one branch moved to Lorain County in later years. The name doesn't appear or sound very German but it is recorded in Denkendorf, Germany back to the 17th century. The spelling went through many changes. It came to America spelled Epple. The y was probably added to assure the pronunciation. Grandma Eppley, born Catherine Merthe in Germany became Catherine Martin. When her father went through customs on arrival with his family, customs asked his name, he repeated, "Merthe." This was repeated a couple of times when the custom officer said, "spell it." Which Mr. Merthe did. To which the custom officer said, "Martin?" Mr. Merthe thinking that was the pronunciation in English said, "Yah." So that family went through life in America as Martin. I had not heard this story until after I tried doing some genealogy on the Martin family. It was a daunting task. So many lines of that name that I soon gave up. It was a relief to find that Merthe is not quite as common.

I have the unique advantage of living in the house where I was born. Daily when I go here and there I will pass at least one or more houses where a relative once lived. It is of no special consequence, but I recognize it as unusual given the mobility of today's families. Perhaps it is also unusual but even though it is almost a daily occurrence I still think of the person who lived in this house or that house. Even though the homestead of my great grandparents was torn down a few years back I still ponder when I pass where it once was. Was the barn that still stands the same as the one when they were alive? I have a photo taken in 1890 at a reunion on the homestead. I wonder where the photo was taken. Under that tree? Or just where?

When I was about five I was allowed to walk short distances even though I had to cross a street. There was no danger of any kind in those days. In a house on West St. just around the corner from Shupe Avenue, I remember when Viola (my mother's cousin) offered me a cookie. My response was, "No thank you. We have cookies at home." So she offered me a piece of cake which I also refused. When I arrived home I told my mother about it and added that if she had offered me a piece of pie I would have accepted. I was always a lover of pie, but not especially fond of sweets in general. When I was in college the girls at my table would take turns getting my dessert unless it was pie. The attraction to sweets has definitely changed over the years.

As I pass my grandmother's (my dad's mother) farm on Middle Ridge Road right next to the railroad crossing, I often remember going into a tomato patch, picking a nice ripe tomato and eating it like an apple. Grandma couldn't understand why I didn't want to take a salt shaker along. And spoil those wonderful tomatoes? She and grandpa raised wonderful musk melons, too. Mother told me about my father who was a practical joker. He had brought a piglet in the house for some reason and he let it loose on the kitchen floor to watch it skid and scramble to get its footing. I thought that was very cruel, but pranks were played in those days the same as now.

I frequently remember a gold wicker chair in that farmhouse that grandma had in the corner of the parlor. No one was allowed to sit on it. When my cousin sold the property he gave me the chair. In later years my grandparents moved in with their daughter on Spring Street in Amherst.. I best remember the wonderful Cherry Boy, a statue of a boy holding a small bunch of cherries. I used to gaze at it whenever I visited. I now own it or a duplicate. I would like to think that it is the same one. How I got the Cherry Boy is a whole story in itself.

When my cousin had an auction to get rid of the many, many, antiques he offered the statue to me for nothing. His wife standing nearby didn't look happy about the gift so I declined. When the auction occurred I got up to $50 but could go no farther because my mother was in a nursing home and money was really tight. The man who got the statue for $51 was known to buy for re-sale at his own auction. I knew him well because we had been on the same cheerleading team when we were in high school. I called him that same night to see if he would take $52. He said not because his wife had always wanted a Cherry Boy. A few years later when I learned of his auction I called to see if it was going to be in the sale. He told me that his mother-in-law liked it and had it. I contacted her, but when I went to see it, it had been broken in too many places, so I refused it. Many years later a friend who knew the story saw a like statue and asked if I would be interested. We can't be sure that it is the same one, but it is identical even to the arm that it is removable. It has been repainted in colors that are much too bright, but I like it all the same. It has a glorified spot on a plant stand all its own.

Grandmother brings forth another remembrance. Superstition! Grandma was superstitious even though she claimed to be very religious. One time when we had a Sunday night supper at her house she insisted that there not be 13 at table. People counted and re-counted many times. Much shifting was so as not to appear like 13. I was interested because there was the suggestion that the children sit at a separate table. I was the next oldest of the grandchildren and resented any time that I had to sit apart from the adults. It turned out that by some musical chair shifting, we all sat at the same table where in reality there were 13 at table. I never heard how the adults felt when they learned that grandma took ill that night. She did not survive. Supposedly because she had eaten some cucumbers. As an impressionable youngster it was a long time before I would eat cucumbers. The number thirteen probably wasn't my favorite number either.

On Cleveland Avenue where Great Uncle Gust always lived, (he built the house) I clearly remember when we went to visit one evening. Their son, Glenn always tinkered with this and that. He had rigged up a radio of sorts. Hardly anyone had a radio in the early twenties. So when Glenn put a set of ear phones in a kettle we could all hear a radio program. What a thrill! It was several years before our family owned a bona fide radio. It was a Majestic in an attractive cabinet that has since been converted to become a cabinet that holds my special glassware. It also has a bench that is now covered with needlepoint and serves as a convenient place to put on winter boots, once called galoshes.

When John Dute, my grandfather, married Aurelia Heussner in 1881, they took up housekeeping on a part of the Heussner farm. This was in Henrietta Township which was nothing more than a crossroads and is now a part of South Amherst. The farm was sizeable. Route 113 ran in front of the acreage, Baumhart Road beside it and Russia Road bordered the back. The furniture that they chose for their living room furniture has been in daily use ever since and currently reposes in my parlor. The horsehair upholstery that pricked every woman in the 1920's who wore those sheer voile dresses has since been replaced with very dark green velvet.

It was in this humble little house on the Heussner farm that my mother and her sister were born. In 1891 grandfather bought the house in growing Amherst where I was born and still live. The furniture, of course, came with them. Two daughters, Amelia aged 7 and Ethel aged 1 made up the family. The reason for the move is unclear unless grandfather's (John's) health was already deteriorating. Just how they managed financially is a mystery. They never sold the farm. As late as when I went to college we were still going to the farm to pick grapes, blackberries, and peaches. Mother and I did most of the picking. My aunt was afraid that she would see a snake or other creature of the woods. She provided lunch and did the canning after we were home..

My mother and her sister had a more than usual sad early life. Their grandfather, Adam Heussner died I 1893. Their father passed away in 1896. Death seemed to operate in increments of 3 because their mother died in 1899 leaving the two girls to be tended by a loving grandmother. As if they had not endured enough, Death didn't wait the established three years. One year later their grandmother died. The "girls" as they became to be known in the large complement of relatives were sent to live with an uncle ( their father's brother, Anton) and Aunt Mary who were childless. The "girls" were ages 10 and 16. The aunt treated the girls much like two Cinderellas. The uncle, their father's brother was of a different fabric..

He kept the Amherst property that had been inherited by the "girls." He also saved the farm for them. It's possible that renting out these two properties helped to support the "girls". I never heard that they had a nest egg when the two of them were married in 1912.

I have a few memories of happenings prior to school days. I remember one incident that probably should have brought discipline, but instead the adults were too amused to do anything. Aunt Mine had just mopped the wood kitchen floor. Uneven boards left small collections of water that weren't collected by the mop. While the family was in another room I escaped to the kitchen. Here I proceeded to get into the flour barrel and rubbed it on our black and brown smooth-haired Airedale. When my aunt went to see why I was so quiet and discovered the mess she promptly called my mother. I noticed a smile on her face, but I was unable to interpret it. When my mother arrived she asked me why I did that and spoiled my aunt's nice clean floor. My reply, "She was all brack." meaning black, of course. It turned out, as I explained, that a relative of my mother's had teased me about having a black dog and I was trying to correct the matter. My aunt's newly mopped floor was a disaster. My mother is the one who told me many years later that both she and my aunt had thought the situation very amusing so I wasn't disciplined. I was only told that I shouldn't do that again.

It's hard to believe that I would have such a clear recollection at age 3, but all I remember is my uncle telling about a train wreck. He was talking about the tragic wreck in 1916 when a New York Central train from Chicago apparently stopped for water and another train rear ended it. That wasn't the worst, but the Twentieth Century which was the fastest train at the time came from the opposite direction and ran into the injured from the first collision. More than twenty people were killed, but the mystery and deeper tragedy was that five bodies were never claimed by any friend or relative. They were buried with funeral services paid by the community, flowers donated by our church, and now rest in peace in Crownhill Cemetery with appropriate headstones. Only one was even identified by name. There were many horror stories connected with the tragedy. Looting, identifications made only by monogrammed handkerchief, ring and other personal effects were reported. Many bodies were pieced together by the undertaker. As newspaper reports often distort the facts, somehow it was reported that the Amherst Hospital was built because of the wreck. The hospital had been planned and started before the wreck, but it was not finished until several months after the wreck. The injured had to be taken to Elyria for treatment.

When I was five I clearly remember Aunt Mine coming to the breakfast table crying. When she was asked why she was crying she said that she had had a dream that a cousin of theirs who had just been shipped out to fight in World War I had been on a ship that was sunk by the Germans. Later that day, they received word that Homer, their cousin had in truth been on the German torpedoed ship, Ticonderoga, and was lost at sea.

World War I was the time I dutifully saved foil. I thought it was to make coffee for the soldiers. I am not quite sure where that idea originated.

It was during this time that I saw my uncle cry the first and only time. His father was not naturalized and since he was of German nationality and we were at war with the Germans he received word from his home in Michigan that his father was now a man without a country. He was not incarcerated, but I believe he had to report often as to his whereabouts and activities.

Somehow I managed to live to start school in spite of what the doctor had predicted when I was born. I don't know what his basis was for his evaluation unless it was because I was very small - six pounds dressed as mother often told. From what I have learned the clothing probably weighed a pound --diaper, wool undershirt, petticoat, very long dress, stockings, booties and a blanket. Since I was born in September and knowing my mother, this would have been standard apparel for the rest of that first winter. Mother told the story of taking me to the doctor because I had broken out in a rash. I don't know what the temperature was, but the doctor said, "Hell, get some of those clothes and that blanket off that child. She has prickly heat." It must have been a very warm September in 1913

My first memories of school include the very first day when my aunt or uncle offered to walk me to school. I was insulted. I had visited school, had walked down town alone, had walked to relative's homes alone, I guess I wasn't afraid to walk to school on my first day alone. So I did. One of my memories of that first day includes one classmate who was probably not potty trained or was too scared under the pressure of the time. Of course, I reported this event to the family at the end of the day. My first year was successful up to a point. I can still visualize that classroom which was on what is known as the first floor of Central School. It was on the northeast corner. Early in the second semester I was stricken with the German measles which required me to be in a darkened room. At the same time I got the flu which was raging in epidemic proportions. People often wore masks to attend public functions. I had fever sores which were so bad that my lips were scabbed shut. They had to give me liquids after forcing open a very small hole for a straw. This illness left me partially deaf. This deafness was quite bad at first. I received several reprimands for not coming when I was called or doing what I was told. One day my mother discovered that I was quite deaf when I couldn't hear an old Victrola playing a band number. I would stand by the Victrola and touch it so I could feel the vibration. I missed most of the remainder of my first school year. Actually I attended only 90 days that first year. Because my mother was a teacher and taught me what I needed to know, I was passed to the second grade.

The second year went without any illness or other memorable incident except one day when the teacher, Effie Smith noticed me cleaning a new sapphire ring. I had to go to the cloak room for a short time. That was a devastating punishment for one who always did what she was told.

The third grade was taught by my father's cousin who was also the sister of my first grade teacher. She had a situation that must have been terrible. She had third and fourth graders in the same room.

Sickness took over again in the fourth grade. Pneumonia interfered with my learning long division. My mother was unable to help at this point because she was teaching in the Sheffield School District. This was a one-room school building on lakeshore. She had to room and board with a family who lived right next to the school. I never caught up with long division until many years later.

I hardly remember a time until I was an adult when I was not underweight. I was forty years old before I weighed one hundred pounds. Being underweight and not having a very robust complexion caused the periodic visiting nurse to send a note home to my mother to the effect that I was underweight. As if my mother didn't know that. She had plied me with Ovaltine nightly - even with the so-called chocolate flavor it was not very palatable. One day when a relative was visiting and the family was telling about the notes from the nurse it was suggested that the next time I should pinch my cheeks before I went to see the nurse and stop for a drink of water. I did exactly that and to my surprise - no note. Pinching my cheeks gave me the necessary healthy color and the drink of water helped to raise my weight a little.

I managed to stay in school except for a case of sniffles or other minor ailment until I was in the seventh grade when I came down with whooping cough along with pleurisy. The pain is memorable. Whooping cough is not a childhood ailment anymore, but it was very catching in the 1920's. In retrospect I wonder if I really had whooping cough. Perhaps it had some connection to my asthma. I didn't know that I had asthma until I was an adult. In fact I had never heard of it.

Two more serious illnesses attacked before graduation. Just before the sophomore year ended pneumonia attacked again. This session was probably the most serious. In the senior year a double mastoid operation was performed in mid spring-term. I had had terrible headaches. My mother took me by suggestion of Dr. Hall, the doctor who had delivered me, my mother and her sister and about everyone else in town to a specialist in Elyria. He indicated that pneumonia outbursts were probably caused by the growing infections of the mastoid. All of these illnesses did nothing to provide good grades. I remember that I was tired most of the time.