14AA. Harold Scrivener Youngblood was born in Michigan on Sunday, December 24, 1911, and died on November 12, 1968. Harriet Vivian Farwell was born in Grand Rapids, Kent County, Michigan, on Sunday, March 29, 1914, and died in Rockford, Michigan, on October 30, 1978. She was buried in Courtland Township Cemetery, Rockford, Michigan. They were married on Sunday, January 1, 1933. She took the name Harriet Vivian Youngblood. He is the son of Jesse VanRanselar and Minnie (Scrivener) Youngblood. They had one child:
| i. | Patricia Joan Youngblood [#14AAA]: She was born in Grand Rapids on August 24, 1938. |
His second marriage was to Marie _____ on Saturday, November 24, 1945. She took the name Marie Youngblood. They lived in California. They adopted two children:
| i. | Donald Youngblood was born on February 1, 1954. He married Cynthia Conti on May 11, 1980. They have one son, Gregory Michael Youngblood, born on December 26, 1980. | |
| ii. |
Paula Youngblood was born
on September 7, 1957.
|
In March, 2000, Pat wrote: "I can't help you at all with any information on my biological father, I have no memory of him except what my mother told me. I was born at the onset of WW II and I know he was in the US Navy and after the war I have no recollection at all. If my memory serves me right (and remember I was very young) he found someone else while he was in the service and I remember that he lived in California and the only time my mother got any support money for me was when he was in the service.
"My mother married my adopted father on August 11, don't know exact year 1947-48? and my "dad" (the only one I ever really knew) adopted me on November 15, 1950.
"My mother worked in a factory during WW II to support us and we lived with my maternal grandparents. She continued working until her rheumatoid arthritis forced her to quit her job. She was in her late 30's. She suffered greatly from this disease and it finally took her life. She went from stiff hands and joints and walking slowly, to a cane, to a walker, to a wheelchair and finally bedridden; it is a terrible disease. She tried everything new that came out in order to live with the pain she had and hoping that she would get better. Through the thick and thin of it my dad stuck by her side, cooking and grocery shopping after he had worked all day. He was a carpenter and a darn good one! He was lost when she died.
Before she was bedridden they loved fishing and hunting (even though mom never
carried a gun) and our summer vacation was at a cottage up north,
usually in the Traverse City area. I can remember my
dad fixing a wooden chair and pushing her out on the ice—she couldn't
walk that far—so she could go ice fishing.
My parents built their dream house on a lake but Mom never really got to
enjoy it. The arthritic took over so my dad put her bed in
the livingroom across from the picture window so she could look out every day.
In her later years, her grandchildren were the light of her life.
I just wish they could have had her for a longer time."