Warning! May Be Too Graphic for the Faint of Heart!

History fascinates me. I know, I'm a total nerd. I'll let you beat me up at recess. Family history is addicting. Scandal? Intrigue? Blood and gore? Ghost stories, tragedy, and things of lore? All in the family history.

Here is my great, great, grandfather, Samuel Alonzo Whitney:

It is clear where I get my good looks.

Here's what I knew about him: He lost an arm in his youth, was a Pony Express Rider, spoke Shoshone fluently, was an Indian interpreter, and he lost his leg later in life. He was called "Peg Leg."

So how did he lose his arm and his leg? I hunted down a very distant cousin and sent her an email. By the way, the best way to find out about your ancestors is to find that one aunt or distant cousin who is absorbed in family history. They have all the good stories. My life's goal is to become that little old lady with the dowager hump, leaning over a microfiche machine. Can you see the pink sweater and sensible, orthopedic shoes, too? Yeah. That's totally going to be me.

Ahem. Back to my story. Here's what she sent me:

He lost his arm as a child sometime between age 12 and 14 in a farm machine. His sleeve caught in I think a thresher of some kind and twisted it of just below the elbow. My grandmother said his sleeve was loose because the button was missing. It is my understanding that he did not live with his mother at that time.

He lost his leg in his 50’s. He was logging in Logan Canyon. He and the other men were racing down the canyon to see who could get to the bottom of the canyon first. His wagon overturned and his leg was crushed. It was amputated (sawed off) below the knee. It got gangrene in it and they had to saw more off.

My grandmother told me this story. "He was delirious and was never quite the same after that. Chief Washakie stayed with him during that time. They set up a makeshift hospital in the jail since there was no hospital. While he was delirious he kept saying that his toes were bent and his foot was cold and wet. Everyone thought that it was just the ramblings of a delirious mind but finally the Relief Society President dug up the amputated leg which was buried under a pear tree in his yard. It was wet, the toes were bent so she straightened them, wrapped it in clean dry cloth put it in a box and reburied it. He quit complaining after that."

Note to self: Be the little old lady in the pink sweater and polyester skirt with not a worry in the world. Sure beats being the Relief Society president.