A New York Surprise (Part 2)

So, why is Catharine Kline a super oma? You may have seen her married name and thought, “oh, it’s a German last name, hence the use of the word oma.” Close, but no cigar. As seen from this birth data in New York Births and Christenings, 1640-1962, you can see that Catharine’s maiden name is Veeder.

It took me forever to verify who her parents were, but according to The Klines of Evanston, 1848-1970, her parents were John Veeder and Marie Fonda.

Looking through marriage records, the more accurate names are John J. Veeder and Maria A. Fonda. Both of these last names, Veeder and Fonda, are prominent Dutch names from a little town in New York called Fonda (located in Montgomery County). As it turns out, Maria is the granddaughter of the village’s namesake: Douw Fonda. Which is really cool because this guy has a Wikipedia page.

I’ve yet to do more research on Douw Fonda himself, but according to the Dictionary of American Family Names, the surname Fonda is of West Frisian origin. Which is crazy awesome because according to 23andMe, it pin-pointed Friesland as one of the top Dutch provinces my DNA comes from, and I could never figure out WHY. My dad’s side of the family is super Achterhoeks from Gelderland with a sprinkling in Noord Holland. So I’ve been asking myself since 2020 (when I first purchased a kit from 23andMe): How in the world did Friesland crop up in there? Now I know: it’s from the Fondas on my mom’s side of the family, not my dad. Likewise, 23andMe also says I’m 57.8% Dutch and German. I always thought that meant I was 50% Dutch (because of my dad) and 7.8% German (because of my mom). But now I realize I’m a little more than 50% Dutch from the both of them.

And this discovery came right in time because in July, my husband and I took a road trip over the week of Independence Day to the Finger Lakes in New York State, and we drove through Fonda where I visited some ancestral graves, dug through the County’s archives, and explored the area my family called home. It was my first-ever genealogical tourism trip, and I can’t wait to write and post about it in the coming months.

A New York Surprise (Part 1)

After several months of research on this one branch of my family, I was pleasantly surprised to see I have ancestry from New York State. I was 1000% certain my American history was firmly rooted in the South. My mother is a 5th generation Texan and before that, I’ve traced ancestors to Mississippi, Alabama, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia. For real, how much more Southern can a woman get?

This heritage is even expressed culturally in my own everyday life, despite having been raised in the Caribbean as a Dutch child and having spent the majority of my life NOT in the American South. For example, I have a slight Southern accent I sometimes unconsciously slip into, and I often crave the food I grew up eating (fried okra, gumbo, and Tex-Mex).

I also honestly believed I was the first of my family to move up north.

via GIPHY

As it turns out, my great-grandmother (Miriam Ruth Ream) may have been born in Texas, but neither of her parents were. Meet Lincoln Ream from Indiana and Mary Amelia Styers from Illinois.

My great-great grandfather.

My great-great grandmother.

I’m going to neglect Lincoln for now and focus on Mary. As seen from this death certificate, Mary was the daughter of Henry Styers and Jane Pulver.

She died in Texas and lived to be 94 years old; pretty impressive! It also looks like she fractured her hips before her death: a sad and painful yet common trajectory towards the end for the elderly.

Now, Jane’s parentage was a little difficult to trace (and not because her last name is misspelled on the death certificate, because typos like that happen all the time; it’s not fun but they’re definitely expected). I do have this 1850 census where she’s 5 years old living with her 3 other siblings, father (Charles Deniston Pulver), and what appears to be her grandmother, Catharine Kline, but where’s her mother?

It's a bit grainy, but Charles is listed as a lawyer in the Occupation column.

I decided to take a look into the Kline family and found out that Kline was Catherine’s married name. She was living with her grandchildren and son-in-law because her daughter, Jane Amelia Kline, had died shortly after the birth of her granddaughter, Jane Amelia Pulver (later to be Jane Amelia Styers).

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HOW TRAGIC IS THIS?! The girl never got to know her own mother. I definitely had to pause for a bit when this realization dawned on me. I haven’t discovered yet how she died. Based on the timing of her death with the birth of a child, I would assume it had something to do with childbirth, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have died from some other horrible disease du jour.

Now, unless someone tells me otherwise from their own family history compilations, I will assume that Catherine was so out of her mind with grief at the untimely passing of her beloved daughter that to console herself and honor her child’s memory, she enthusiastically brought all her grandchildren to New York with her for two years so her son-in-law could find them a new mother (because, let’s be real: male lawyers back in the 1800s probably didn’t have the time nor interest in being primary caregivers to their own children; better ship them off with grandma than to take care of them himself as he courts a new woman young enough to be his daughter).

Screenshot of The Klines of Evanston, 1848-1970 written by Faith McClung Kline, who is most likely a distant cousin of mine.

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It seems like he could have picked a better stepmother for his kids, though. Speaking as someone who used to be a teenage girl, we don’t tend to run away from functional, loving, and accepting families/homes. If anyone has some tea on that step-family relationship, I would love to see/read/hear it. It looks like the second wife was only 8 years older than his oldest daughter (and 23 years younger than him), which is what I’m pinpointing as a potential problem.

via GIPHY

Anyway, it appears that Catharine Kline is super grandma… or should I say super oma? If you’re confused by that question, it’s a not-so-subtle hint that there’s more to this story to find out in my next post ;) And in case anyone gets confused about what the family tree looks like at this point in history, here is a little visualization I created using FindMyPast’s online tree maker.

I have yet to properly verify every sibling listed in this tree, but have verified all parental links.

Laughter In Recovery: Finding Healing Through Derry Girls

I’ve alluded to some personal health issues I’ve had in the past, and I finally had them addressed with a laparoscopic excision surgery last week. The recovery so far has gone relatively well despite wishing it would just go faster. To pass the time and to prepare myself for my next trip to Ireland in August with my husband, I started watching Derry Girls, which has been both hilarious and harmful to my healing due to all the belly laughs I’ve been having every single episode. It’s hard to pick a favorite aspect of this show, but I’ve narrowed it down to 3: the backdrop of The Troubles, the female-centered story-telling, and Sister Michael.

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I’ve made it a point to read up on Irish history. However, I’ve only made it about halfway through the book I’m reading about the rebellion of 1798 in County Wexford. Therefore, I have yet to really get into the details about The Troubles, but I feel like I’m learning little bits and pieces about it through Derry Girls. For example, even as an American living in the United States, I was shocked when soldiers in the show boarded a school bus with rifles in their hands to run an inspection. I mean, we have a lot of guns and gun lovers in the US, but I’ve never seen one just come on to a school bus with children before. What’s even crazier is that it seems from the context of the show to have been a relatively frequent occurrence. With all the violence these citizens were subjected to, it can get really sad, but what’s nice about the show is that the conflict is mostly in the background rather than the main part of the story and, in some cases, it lends itself to excellent comedic moments like when a Catholic and Protestant school bring their teenage students together to bridge the cultural divide between them.


Having been a teen girl in the early 2000s, I heavily identify with the OG 4 Derry Girls of the show. That said, it’s actually the one Derry Girl boy I find the most refreshing. James is Michelle’s cousin from England who attends the all-girls school with her because he’s got such a thick British accent that his family is worried he’ll get beat up at the all-boys school. The fact that he grew up in England and is a boy in a sea of Irish teenage girls is absolutely hysterical because it forces him to operate in a very feminine sphere. I found this experience cathartic to watch because as a woman, I oftentimes feel like I’m forced to navigate a masculine sphere in my life.


My last favorite part of Derry Girls is Sister Michael. I never thought my favorite character would be a nun, but she is hilarious. She reminds me of a high school friend with her acerbic sense of humor. Sister Michael both cares and doesn’t care about her students, which leads me to believe that not only is she the funniest of all the characters, but also the most relatable. The fact that she’s a nun makes it all the more hysterical because you just don’t expect a nun to be this way. And maybe that’s on me for having these preconceived notions about nuns (granted, I attended a private Protestant school as a child before realizing I was an agnostic atheist in college). Ultimately, they’re very much like the rest of us.


In the midst of recovery and anticipation for future travels, Derry Girls has emerged as a surprising yet cherished companion. Its unique blend of humor and heart has provided a welcome distraction, offering moments of respite and laughter during my healing process. From its exploration of historical turmoil to its celebration of female camaraderie and the delightfully sardonic Sister Michael, the show has left an uplifting mark on me this week.