Regret; An Open Topic
Four months. One third of a year. One-hundred eighteen days since my father went to sleep and didn't wake up again. Two-thousand eight-hundred thirty-two hours since my dad ended a twenty-one year battle with chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder and shuffled off this mortal coil for destinations unknown. One-hundred sixty-nine thousand nine-
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I've been doing a little family research too, and have sometimes run across that troublesome term "inmate". Only, in my case, it was my grandfather (age 4), and his brother (age 2). Surely they wouldn't have been institutionalized or imprisoned, right? It's a tough call. Likely, in their case, the term inmate means something more like "ward" in an orphanage - especially considering the fact that there are around 40 other names on that same census, all within the same household.
From the OED
"Inmate: In relation to other persons: One who is the mate or associate of another or others in the same dwelling; one who dwells with others in a house. (Now rare.) In early use, One admitted for a consideration to reside in a house occupied or rented by another; a lodger or subtenant."
Still, even though it *may not mean*, but still could mean an imprisoned or otherwise locked-away person, it still denotes a time in their lives of lonliness and upheaval. Something they will carry on their hearts forever. They were "inmates" somewhere, because they didn't belong anywhere else. Unmoored, without connections, and likely without proper care or love. Still extremely traumatic... still something that will throw a lance through generations.
(I should probably say that it sounds like you're very well researched, and you've likely pinpointed an actual institutionalization. I was just a bit rattled to have found that word associated with, essentially, toddlers. Just another reminder of how rough things were only a few generations ago.)
I hope you're able to crack into some really great information regarding your family. Having done a bit of this myself, I was astounded at how quickly we can completely lose the trail we're traveling in pursuit of a relative - even one not that long gone. It's so important to remember, and to honor, and to know. I just wish it had been a happier event which began it all for you.
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There are definitely different ways that inmate could be used, but in the case of my grandmother, it did mean that she was being institutionalized. The name of the facility was on the census and I looked up its history. It was for those with sensory disabilities (blind or deaf--not my grandmother), cognitive/developmental disabilities (Downs Syndrome and the like--again, not my grandmother) and mental/emotional disabilities. At one point in time my aunt had asked my grandfather if my grandmother had been in a mental institution when she was younger. I do not know what answer she received. But, just that she inquired--well there had to be a reason for that, right? All of the pieces do fit together.
But it does still denote a time of loneliness and upheaval and it makes my heart ache--most especially because I know that in the 1930s and 1940s, what constituted emotional disturbance would not be considered such today. There's a lot of mystery here, though... and unless this facility still has its records on her and would actually release them to me, I will likely never have some of these answers.
I did start my research before my dad passed... although largely with the knowledge that he didn't have much longer to live. His death, though, brought about more intensity and drive on this front. I've already got a ton of information on my family, but that's the thing about genealogy and family history--there are always more questions.
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I'm glad that the historic sites are being preserved, but not sure what's supposed to be so damn scary about woefully misunderstood people, and the wretched conditions they were kept in. :-/
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