Keep your eyes open

Final resting place for John Zehrung,
who died Aug. 23, 1879, from consumption.

Sometimes the things you're looking for are right in front of you the entire time.

I have walked the Woodlawn Cemetery in Toledo, Iowa, many times. Many, many times. It's served as the final resting place for my family since 1856, the year after they came to Tama County, Iowa, by covered wagon. Most of my early trips were for somber occasions - the burial of a loved one or the laying of flowers on a grave.

After becoming interested in family history the trips became more frequent and gained new meaning. While the cemetery was (and is) still a place for respect and remembrance, it was in some ways a giant puzzle. Most of those "investigation" trips were geared toward finding graves I hadn't seen before, or figuring out dates and names. As I grew more advanced in my research it rarely started at the cemetery, but a trip there was always part of the journey.

Now that I've lived in Toledo for more than a year, I visit the cemetery regularly for other reasons. Namely, exercise. It is a regular part of my walk route when I'm outdoors. Between research and leisurely strolls, I was pretty sure I knew all the corners of Woodlawn.

I was wrong.

Last weekend I was on a casual walk through the cemetery. I wasn't looking for anything new. I didn't think I could find anything new. I was strolling up the center drive where my great-great-grandparents rest. As I came to the top of a slight incline I just happened to look to the right and see a faint name on a tall stone. For a second, I thought it said "Zehrung", but I instantly dismissed it. The Zehrungs were one of the first families in Toledo. My four great-grandparents, Jonathan and Mary (Upp) Zehrung, arrived with their children May 15, 1855, two years after Toledo was founded. When they arrived Jonathan's uncle, Adam, was already here. He had been here in 1853 when the town was founded and it was at his suggestion the town got its name.

All the Zehrungs I knew to be buried in Woodlawn were at the very front, in one of the oldest parts of the cemetery. It's where Adam and his wife are buried, as well as Jonathan, Mary, and four of their daughters. I didn't know of any other place in the cemetery where a Zehrung was found.

So I was confused and excited to step closer to this "new" stone and see in fact it was the name on this stone. The name was Katie Zehrung Bartlett, a name I instantly recognized from my research.

Katie's story is somewhat sad and generally incomplete. Katie's mother, Catherine Zehrung, was the second eldest daughter of Jonathan and Mary. Though the specifics of her youthful dalliances is a mystery, at some point in 1855 she became pregnant. She was expecting when the family trudged west from Fairfield County, Ohio, to Toledo. It was in Toledo where she gave birth to twin girls on Dec. 23, 1855, and it was in Toledo where she died weeks later on Jan. 11, 1856.

Katie and her twin sister, Caroline, remained living with their grandparents. A few years later Caroline was adopted by her aunt, Eliza, and her husband, Jacob Reinig (my third great grandparents). Caroline was raised as a Reinig and considered a sister to the Reinig children, when in fact she was their cousin. She lived to the age of 83 and died in Idaho.

Katie remained living with her grandparents in Toledo and eventually married Alfred Bartlett. She had two children and died at the age of 37.

To date I have not been able to find an obituary for Katie, nor had I found where she was buried. I always assumed she was in Woodlawn, but couldn't find her on cemetery transcripts and after dozens and dozens of trips through the place I had never seen it. I had given up looking entirely, which made seeing her name so shocking.

I quickly walked over to the stone and looked at who else was buried in the area. Sure enough, right next to Katie and Alfred was their daughter, Edyth Pearl. I couldn't believe it! I kept going down the row and a few more down there was an old stone with faded letters: John Zehrung.

John Zehrung's grave has always been a mystery to me. I assumed it was in Toledo, but I could not find a record of it. He died in 1879 from tuberculosis. At the time he was living in Toledo, so it makes sense he'd be buried there, but he was nowhere near his parents or siblings, who are all buried in one place. Why he was placed in this section and so near his niece, I do not know. Right next to John was his wife, Delusha, who remarried a few years after his death and lived to the ripe old age of 96. She shared a headstone with her second husband, Henry Turbett, but is right next to her first husband of only two years.

I'm still baffled as to how I'd missed these for all this time. I know I've walked past that very spot dozens of times and probably looked right at them. The problem, I think, is that I'd assumed the stones didn't exist, or they weren't in that cemetery, or that I'd just never find them. I probably never saw them because I never expected to see them.

Regardless of the reason, the point is that just when you think you've reached the end of a journey or a story, there's always something else to find. Keep looking and never give up! You never know where your next clue will come from. It may be right beneath your feet.