THE ACCIDENTAL NAMESAKE

The stories Grandma told, always began with her life when she married my granddad. She seldom talked about her life as a child. She was born in 1893, she was the youngest of 6 children, her parents were in their 40’s when she was born. The turn of the century was a struggle for the working class. Childhood was short-lived, Grandma’s brothers took jobs at 14 or 15, her eldest sister was married at 17. The tragedy Grandma experienced before she turned 13 might explain her reluctance to tell stories of her childhood.

THE ACCIDENTAL NAMESAKE

In the front row of the old Plainview cemetery, a stone marks the grave of a young woman. Born on Valentine’s Day 1890, Jennie Kamrar lived 16 years, 6 months and 2 days.

Jennie Viola Kamrar was born in Hartington, Nebraska, the fifth living child of David and Susanna Kamrar. David Kamrar was a railroad laborer. Beginning in Ohio in 1872, he kept moving Susanna and family west, building the railroad. For the next twenty-one years he picked up an ever growing family and moved on. Simon was born in Illinois; Mattie in Iowa; Elmer in Nebraska; zigzagging east for a job, Cushing, was born in Iowa, 6 and 9 years later Jennie and Helen were born in Nebraska.

Since they were only 3 years apart and the tag-along-children, Jennie and Helen were especially close. At 13 and 10, they made the move with their parents in 1903 to Oregon for a year and a half. By 1903, the 4 older Kamrar children had long been on their own.

Jennie became sick while they were in Oregon. Helen was her constant companion. The family returned to Plainview, Nebraska.

Jennie’s health was improved and she took a job at the Bloomfield post office just before her 16th birthday. She was a pretty girl, with lustrous, dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a quiet, intelligent demeanor. She worked at the post office for only 7 months.

Jennie’s illness returned in July and she underwent surgery in Sioux City for appendicitis, she returned to Plainview to convalesce and died of complications 5 weeks later.

It was 1906, uncertain diagnosis, surgery and medical care could not save Jennie Kamrar. A life cut short, a family left to grieve.

According to the obituary in the Bloomfield Monitor, “Jennie left behind many friends to mourn her loss… her family was inconsolable.”

The family moved away from the memories in Plainview and Bloomfield. David, Susanna and Helen moved to Wayne, where Helen went to high school through the 10th grade and took normal training to become a teacher. After completing school, Helen took a teaching job in Cherry County, Nebraska, where she met her husband, a rancher, Will Grouns.

Jennie Kamrar was my grandmother‘s sister. My grandma, Helen Kamrar Grouns, was 12 when Jennie died.

Grandma’s much older brothers and sister, had settled on the West Coast. They had passed on before I was born.

I was never interested in genealogy, I never knew the names of my grandma’s brothers and sisters.

In 1978 I had a baby, a beautiful dark haired girl. I chose the name, Jenny, because it sounded good with my last name and it is a beautiful name.

When I told Grandma my new baby’s name was Jenny, her eyes filled and with a catch in her voice she said, “That was my sister’s name. My dear, dear Jennie. My parents were so grief-stricken we were never allowed to speak her name after she died.” Grandma held her great-granddaughter in her arms, “Jennie, sweet little Jennie,” she turned to me, “How did you know?”

I hadn’t known.

Jenny had a special place in her great-grandma’s heart, even though being named after great-great Aunt Jennie was purely accidental. When Jenny was 11, her great-grandma, Helen Kamrar Grouns died at the age of 96. Although Jenny knew the story of being named after her great-great Aunt Jennie, it was nearly forgotten in the fast-paced adolescent years.

In 2001 Jenny graduated from college and got a laboratory job in an ethanol plant in Plainview, Nebraska. My mother told Jenny, “I think that is where my Aunt Jennie is buried.” So on a day off, Jenny Forbes walked the rows of the old Plainview cemetery til she came to the front corner, where the tombstone marking the resting place of Jennie Kamrar had been untended for nearly a century.

On most Memorial Days since, Jenny has placed flowers on the grave of her great-great aunt. I can imagine the Kamrar family smiling down on the dark haired young woman, with the simple vase of garden flowers, the accidental namesake of their Jennie.