August 5, 2025

Introducing Mary Belle Blake

🌸 Introduction to Mary Belle Blake

Factory Matriarch | Faithful Heart | The Quiet Backbone of a Family

She was born on a winter afternoon in 1908, in a modest home on East Georgia Street, and by all accounts, she lived a life that didn’t ask for attention—but deserved it. Mary Belle Blake, later known as Mary McNally, didn’t blaze across the sky. She glowed steadily, like the soft porch light left on for her boys, night after night.

She raised three sons in the steel-clad shadows of Kokomo’s factories, kept a marriage strong through Depression and war, and stepped into the workforce when America called on its women to rise. She inspected radios and raised boys, stitched faith into each Sunday, and held fast when the world tilted. Her fingers bore the calluses of labor and love in equal measure.

🔍 Want to explore Mary Belle’s full timeline?
From her birth on Georgia Street to her final days in Kokomo, her family page includes census records, marriage details, obituary excerpts, and more. You can find it all there—neatly documented and gently told.

👉 Visit Mary Belle Blake’s Family Page to view the full story.

We don’t know all the details—yet. There’s no photograph of her laughing in the kitchen, no diary left behind. But maybe you remember her. Or maybe someone you loved did.

This page is for that:
To remember her voice, her habits, her little phrases.
To uncover her favorite recipes, her stern warnings, or her secret indulgences.
To fill in the spaces history left blank.

If you have a memory of Mary Belle, or even just a whisper of one, I invite you to leave it in the comments below. Your voice may be the missing note in her song.

She earned remembrance. Let’s give it to her.

With gratitude,
~Kris

August 4, 2025

Introducing Helen Marie Blake

✨ Introduction Page: Helen Marie Blake

Born in the Flour-Dusted Silence
June 17, 1898 – After 1920 (exact date unknown)

She may not have left a long trail in the records, but Helen Marie Blake left just enough to tug at the heart. Born to Charles Arthur Blake and Mary Elizabeth Beyl, she grew up in Indianapolis, where the streets rattled with wagon wheels and the air smelled of coal smoke and fresh bread.

She married young—perhaps for love, perhaps for escape—and by twenty-two, she was living with her uncle and working in a bakery. Then, just like that… the paper trail ends. No death record. No obituary. Just whispers.

If you know her—or if your family remembers her—this is where her story comes alive again.

🕊️ Share your stories, memories, and theories about Helen in the comments below.
Even a single thread could help stitch together the missing fabric of her life.

Curious to learn more about Helen’s life?
You’ll find census records, marriage details, and key dates waiting on Helen Marie Blake’s Family Page—a quiet archive of the facts we’ve gathered so far.

August 3, 2025

Introducing Charles Arthur Blake

Introduction: Charles Arthur Blake

“Custodian of the Quiet Years”
Son-in-Law of Jacob William Beyl Sr. | Husband, Father, Resilient Soul | 1879–1957

Not every name in the family record arrives through blood. Some are stitched in through time, tenderness, and the kind of steadfast love that doesn’t demand attention. Charles Arthur Blake was one of those souls—woven into the fabric of the Beyl legacy not by birth, but by bond.

Born in West Newton, Indiana, in the final quarter of the 19th century, Charles entered a world still shaking off the dust of war and stepping boldly into modernity. He grew up in a working-class home in Indianapolis, one of eight children. His early life was defined by movement—wagon driver, truck man, grocer—and yet what defined him most was his capacity to stay.

He married Mary Elizabeth Beyl on his 22nd birthday, beginning a chapter filled with both profound sorrow and quiet joy. Together, they bore children, buried one too soon, and built a life on hard work and hope. When Mary died young, Charles honored her memory with a life that kept going—steady, simple, and true. He remarried, raised his daughter, and worked into his seventies, even as the world around him reshaped itself again and again.

There were no parades for Charles Blake, no monuments carved in his honor. But for every record left behind—for every census, draft card, city listing, and death certificate—there is the mark of a man who carried the weight of love, labor, and loss with quiet grace.

👉 Read his full story on the Family Page

💬 Did you know Charles? Did your family cross paths with his milk route, his grocery counter, or his quiet acts of service?
If you have stories, photographs, or even a whispered memory passed down through generations, I invite you to share it in the comments below. These are the threads that keep history breathing.

August 2, 2025

Introducing Grover Thomas Beyl

🧵 Meet Grover Thomas Beyl

1891–1938
The Meandering Butcher of Marion County

Before his name made it into newspapers as a “Pioneer Resident” or onto a death certificate marked “concussion of the brain,” Grover Thomas Beyl was just a boy on Jackson Street—watching his father plane wood, his mother tend chickens, and the world begin to shift around him.

He came of age between horse carts and meat lockers, learning to labor with his hands. He moved often, worked always, and tried to stake out a piece of permanence in a city that never stood still.

Grover was a machinist. A carpenter. A packer. A laborer. A butcher.
He was a husband to Katherine. A father to Elizabeth and Helen. A brother. A son. And by 1938, a man who had been in motion for nearly five decades—until a highway accident brought his story to a sudden, brutal end.

🗺️ We’ve traced his footsteps through old neighborhoods now lost to parking lots, reconstructed his addresses, and mapped the grind of his working-class life.
But there are still blanks. Still shadows. Still pieces we hope you might help us fill.

🕯️ Did You Know Grover?

Have you heard a story about him passed down in your family?
Do you have a photo, a letter, or even a fragment of a tale?

This is the place to share it.

🧬 Leave a comment below, or send us a note.
Even a tiny detail could bring a deeper layer to Grover’s memory—and help us tell the next chapter of a life once nearly forgotten.

🔍 Want to read his full story? You can find it here:
👉 Read Grover’s Family Page ➤

August 1, 2025

Introducing Frederick Eugene Beyl

🌟 Introduction: Frederick Eugene Beyl

August 22, 1934 – August 30, 2013

The last of John and Edna Beyl’s children, Frederick Eugene “Fred” Beyl lived a life rich in service, humor, and quiet passions. Born during the Great Depression in Indianapolis, Fred grew up in a bustling household of siblings, a baker’s son who would one day wear two uniforms—first in the Navy, then in the Air Force. He worked with his hands, laughed with his whole heart, and left behind memories treasured by his blended family.

Fred wasn’t famous, but he mattered. He was a millwright at Allison Transmission for 17 years, a member of the American Legion Post 113 for nearly four decades, and a devoted pigeon racer with the American Racing Pigeon Union. He enjoyed woodworking, fishing, and—above all—making people laugh. His obituary described him best:

“He enjoyed racing pigeons, woodworking, fishing, and making people laugh, but most of all, he loved spending time with his family.”

Fred passed away on August 30, 2013, closing the chapter on his generation. But his story still lives on.

👉 You can read Fred’s full story on his Family Page.

💬 Share Your Memories

If you knew Fred, we’d love to hear your stories. Did he make you laugh? Did you race pigeons with him, or see his woodworking handiwork? Add your memories below and help keep his legacy alive.

Until next time,

~Kris

July 30, 2025

Introducing Charles Edward Beyl

Charles Edward Beyl: A Quiet Canvas

Some lives are painted in bold strokes, vivid with color and conversation. Others, like Charles’s, unfold in muted tones — private, purposeful, and nearly imperceptible until you lean in close.

Born in 1916 in Columbus, Indiana, Charles grew up in the churn of big family energy, the Great Depression, and shifting Indianapolis neighborhoods. He came of age during crisis and conflict, and served — however briefly — during World War II. His military chapter was short, but his willingness speaks louder than the paperwork.

He made his way as a self-employed painter. A laborer of walls and likely more, though the details have faded. No surviving love letters, no children in the records, no trail of postcards. Just a scattering of addresses, a draft card, a death certificate — and that headstone in Garland Brook Cemetery.

And still… something lingers.

In researching Charles, you feel the weight of what isn’t there — and yet what is left behind is enough to remember him with dignity. A man who served, worked, endured, and passed on, without fanfare.

This page honors him — not with embellishment, but with attention. He may not have filled family scrapbooks, but he earned his place in the story.

🕊️ Looking for more than a glimpse?
His full timeline is waiting on the Family Page here, pieced together with care — birth to burial, every scrap we could find.

But if you have a memory of Charles — a passing story, a neighbor’s tale, a photograph, a feeling — you’re invited to share it here.
This is where we remember. Together.

Always,

~Kris

July 29, 2025

Introducing Lillian Francis Beyl

🕊️ Meet: Lillian Francis Beyl Mobley (1890–1953)

Matriarch. Homemaker. Quiet Architect of Legacy.

Lillian Francis Beyl was born in the chill of January 1890 in Columbus, Indiana—so quietly, in fact, that the earliest record of her birth didn’t even list her name. Yet the life she built would ring louder than any document.

Known lovingly as Lillie, she was the daughter of Jacob Beyl, a French-born carpenter with calloused hands, and Margaret Kern, a strong-willed daughter of German immigrants. From the start, Lillie lived in a house that spoke the language of hard work, faith, and resilience.

She married James Everett Mobley at nineteen and bore at least ten children—some she raised to adulthood, some she mourned too soon. Through every move, every era, every ache and joy, Lillie was the constant: the woman behind the meals, the mending, the music of daily life. She lived through wars and depressions, through the rise of modern Indianapolis and the fading of horse-drawn wagons, all while nurturing a home filled with life and noise and need.

Lillie died in 1953, leaving behind a family tree that still blooms with her strength. She’s buried beside Everett in New Crown Cemetery—a woman not remembered for headlines, but for holding a family together in a world that rarely paused to thank women like her.

Want to know more?
Her full story—including census clues, family mysteries, and quiet triumphs—awaits on her family page.

This page is dedicated to her memory—and to the memories still waiting to be shared.

Have a photo? A story? A pie crust recipe with her handwriting in the margins? Share it below. Because Lillie Beyl Mobley didn’t live to be famous. She lived to be family—and that’s the kind of story that deserves to be told.

July 27, 2025

Introducing Jacob William Beyl Sr

A Beyl Brick Wall: The Curious Case of Jacob William Beyl Sr.

[Intro Page | Comment Hub | Research Collaboration Welcome]

“A genealogist’s dream is not a tidy tree. It’s a tree with roots that wander, twist, and demand to be chased.”

Meet Jacob William Beyl Sr.—if that is his real name.

On paper, Jacob is the patriarch of a proud Beyl branch. A Civil War veteran. A railroad man. A carpenter. A father to seven. A husband to… Margaret? Mary? Melissa? Elizabeth? (Let’s just call her M.M.M.E. and admit she was clearly having some fun with the census takers.)

But what lies beneath is a case that’s far from tidy. Jacob’s story is riddled with conflicting dates, alternate identities, overlapping immigration records, and handwriting that looks like it lost a fight with an ink bottle. His is a life lived in the margins—of paper, of society, and perhaps even of memory.

Some trees grow straight. Others grow fascinating.

This page is your invitation to join the hunt. Got Beyl blood? A cousin’s cousin’s tale? A theory about the mysterious Catherine Fishel? Maybe just a love of records that don’t behave? Then you, dear reader, are among friends.

🕵️‍♂️ This is the conversation corner. Drop your insights, theories, and family whispers in the comments. Want to see all the documented findings and full timeline? Head over to Jacob William Beyl Sr.’s Family Page for the deep dive.

Because sometimes, the most compelling ancestors aren’t the ones we understand—they’re the ones we’re still trying to figure out.

Stay curious,

~Kris

—

Revisited by Bones

Bones here, Kris’s loyal (and slightly scandal-thirsty) research companion. This one’s got me pacing the archives. If you’ve ever tried to untangle two passengers with the same name sailing on the same day—or tracked a woman with four aliases through Indiana—you know the kind of case this is.

We’re not just looking for Jacob. We’re reconstructing him.

Light your lantern, dust off those pension records, and help us piece together the life of a man who may have arrived before he was born (time traveler? just bad paperwork?) and left behind more questions than answers.

Trust me—this is one rabbit hole worth falling into.

July 27, 2025

Introducing Edna Mae Applegate

🕯️ Introduction Page: Edna Mae Applegate
Gathered in memory, shared in love.

She was born in a wintery corner of Crothersville, Indiana, and passed on in the springtime hush of Indianapolis—but the life of Edna Mae Applegate was lived in the warmth between those seasons. A daughter, a sister, a mother of six, and the steady center of a home that shifted through the decades, she is the kind of ancestor whose story is stitched into quiet gestures—the iron still warm, the front door left unlocked, the hum of someone cooking at dusk.

Married at sixteen, widowed too soon, and remembered by grandchildren who knew her simply as Mom, Mama, or Grandma, Edna’s legacy is one of everyday courage. She didn’t ask to be remarkable. But in the way she raised a family, weathered illness, and rooted herself in love through every move, she became just that.

This space is for you, fellow memory keeper.
If you knew Edna, have photos of her, or carry tales told by someone who did, please share them in the comments below. Even the smallest recollection—a favorite recipe, a holiday ritual, a sound to her laughter—adds texture to her tapestry.

Want to explore the full timeline of her life? You’ll find it here:
📜 Read Edna’s Family Page

Thank you for helping keep her story alive. After all, family history isn’t just about the past—it’s about finding our way back to one another, one memory at a time.

Warmly,
Kris

(and occasionally, Bones, when the dirt under the fingernails calls for it)

July 26, 2025

Introducing Margaret Louise Beyl

Margaret Louise Beyl Collins
Born: January 3, 1913 – Columbus, Indiana
Died: June 23, 1985 – Indianapolis, Indiana

Welcome to the memory space of Margaret Louise Beyl, the firstborn of Edward Beyl and Edna Applegate, a child of the early 20th century, and a woman who lived through eras of change with quiet resolve. Known to those around her as a devoted daughter, steadfast sister, hardworking saleslady, firefighter’s wife, and nurturing mother, Margaret’s story is stitched together in census records, clippings, and gravestones—but we know there’s always more between the lines.

This is the place for that “more.”

Maybe you remember Sunday dinners at her kitchen table. Maybe you’re holding on to a photo where her eyes twinkle just right. Maybe you’re a family historian, captivated by the grace of her generation. Whatever brings you here, we’re so glad you’ve come.

Do you have a story to share, a photo to upload, or a memory that refuses to fade? Scroll down and leave a comment. These quiet corners of the internet are how we keep the past alive and personal.

And if you haven’t yet, be sure to visit Margaret’s full family page here, where her journey from Columbus to Whiting to Indianapolis unfolds in detail.

We’re always adding, always listening.

With gratitude for your presence,
~Kris