Minnie Jones Rose 1887-1968

I have been thinking a great deal about Minnie Jones Rose since we were told to shelter in place.  

Minnie was my maternal great grandmother. She died the year before I was born, so we have never met. I don't know a whole lot about her. I can't find her in a census until she is a 23 year-old married mother. Despite all the research challenges she has given me, Minnie continues to be one of my most fascinating ancestors.  

She was born in 1887 in St. John's, NY and raised in Johnsontown, two towns tucked into the hills of Rockland and Orange County Counties, and washed away to build Harriman State Park.  Born to a single mother, her father was never revealed, and I can only imagine what kind of hardships that presented.  She was a widow before age 50 and she raised 5 children.  A devout Methodist, Minnie forbid chores or sewing on the Sabbath.  Stitch on Sunday, rip them out on Monday, she would say.  

When I first expressed interest in learning more about Minnie and the loss of Johnsontown, my Aunt Nancy lead me down the street to her neighbor Grace. A sweet, sassy 80 something, Grace knew a lot about the history of Johnsontown and its people and Sloatsburg, the town where many of them wound up.  

When I asked her about Minnie, she smiled wide and said, "my mother in law always called her a hero." Minnie and Louise, Grace's mother in law, were friends and neighbors. In 1918, Louise had a brand new baby when influenza struck everyone in her household. Minnie took the baby to her home and cared for him with her own children until Louise and everyone next door recovered.  That baby grew up to be a World War II hero, a long time police chief, community leader and Grace's husband.  

She told me more about Minnie, about how during the Depression she would make a special mark on her mail box in chalk, so people who were hungry knew they could get a meal at her table, that she was always taking in children who lost their parents or older people who had no family.  

Minnie was a simple woman who in her own quiet way did some extraordinary things. While I still long to find the record of her life, I think I learned a lot more about Minnie through my visit with Grace than I could from the census.  But, I continue to hunt for them.  

Later that day Grace had one more surprise for me, "We are cousins, you know? You, me, Minnie, all kin.  All in the woodpile." 

I hope that if I am ever presented with a situation like Minnie, where I could help save someone's life, that I would be just as brave.