family history – Someone Peed In My Gene Pool!

July 26, 2025

Introducing John Edward Beyl

John Edward Beyl

1887–1966
📍 Columbus & Indianapolis, Indiana

Before becoming a bakery foreman, a World War I registrant, and the backbone of a growing Indiana household, John Edward Beyl was just a kid on Jackson Street with a pencil-thin frame and a future full of hard-earned chapters.

He lived through two World Wars, a Great Depression, and more address changes than a census clerk would care to count. Along the way, he raised a family of five, built a life out of labor, and left behind just enough paper trail to frustrate future researchers (present company included).

This page is the place to share memories, ask questions, or throw your theories into the ring—especially if you’ve got thoughts about the Margaret-vs-Mary E. mystery, or can help track down the elusive “liquor factory” job in 1910.

📝 Ready for a deeper dive?
Read John Edward Beyl’s whole life story here →

💬 Want to leave a note or connect with others?
Drop a comment below. We’re all just stories waiting to be remembered—and you might have a piece of his.

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Originally published July 26, 2025
Page maintained by Kris
Narrative assistant: Bones (resident rascal & record-chaser)

July 25, 2025

Introducing Grover Thomas Beyl

🧵 Meet Grover Thomas Beyl: The Meandering Butcher of Marion County

Today would have been Grover Thomas Beyl’s birthday—born July 25th, 1891 (or possibly 1892; the records squabble about it). He was a butcher by trade, a husband and father by heart, and a man whose journey through Columbus and Indianapolis left a trail of addresses, trades, and—eventually—tragedy.

Grover’s life wasn’t grand in the traditional sense. He didn’t leave behind books, buildings, or fame. What he did leave behind were butcher knives dulled by honest work, sidewalks warmed by decades of footsteps, and a family stitched into the fabric of Indiana history.

From carpentry to meat cutting, city directories to censuses, Grover’s story is one of movement—up Jackson Street, down Bates and Cruft, over to Kelly and Tabor. A map of his life reads like a humble heartbeat across Marion County. And his final chapter? A car crash on a late August day in 1938, ending his life but not his story.

This month, we’ve revisited Grover’s life in detail—from census records to draft cards, addresses now lost to parking lots, and one very poignant obituary. You can view the full timeline, explore his mapped journey, and dig into his story in the complete profile post here ➤.

🕯️ Did You Know Grover?

If you’re a descendant, distant cousin, neighbor, or just someone with an old family story tucked away—we want to hear from you.

Did your grandparents ever mention Grover? Do you have a family photo or recipe that might relate to this branch of the tree?

Drop a comment below or send a message. Sometimes the smallest detail—a tool brand, a street name, a whispered memory—can help us bring someone back to life more vividly than any document ever could.

Grover’s story is still unfolding—and you might just hold the next piece.

~Kris
🕵️‍♂️ Someone Peed in My Gene Pool

July 21, 2025

Introducing Yolande Annie Biver

Yo Was Her Name, Yellow Roses Her Joy

A Glimpse into the Life of Yolande Annie Biver

If you grew up in the 35th Street house, you knew it by the sound of 10 kids playing and the quiet strength of a woman named Yolande Annie Biver — or just “Yo” to those who loved her.

Born in Phoebus, Virginia, on August 26, 1933, Yolande was the daughter of French immigrants who built their American dreams on grit and grace. She grew up with sisters, laughter, and a little mischief, eventually joining the Future Homemakers of America and graduating from Hampton High.

At just 18 years old, she married Louis Miller in Indianapolis. Together, they raised ten children in a tiny three-bedroom house — a space bursting with bunk beds, old school lockers, sibling scuffles, and fierce love. Even after Louis left the home but continued to support the family financially, Yo never once abandoned her values. As a devout Catholic, she remained faithful to her vows — and to her role as a mother, grandmother, and quiet matriarch.

She was strict, but she loved purely and deeply. She favored yellow roses, and if you were lucky enough to get a glimpse of her rare smile, you’d remember it for a lifetime.

When she passed away on February 28, 2009, she left behind ten children, 25 grandchildren, and 45 great-grandchildren. Her impact echoes not just in names and dates — but in values passed down, stories still told, and the sacred memory of her gentle fire.