Why Genealogists Should Hate Moving

Why Genealogists Should Hate Moving

 

Fearless Females (Day 30): Mother Knows Best

“March 30: Did you receive any advice or words of wisdom from your mother or another female ancestor?”

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“Listen to your wife, she’s a mother!” the Old Girl whispered in my ear as our hug finished before we parted.

I was down the porch steps and halfway across the sidewalk, before I realized what she had said. Puzzled, I turned and looked back at her wide-eyed, expecting her to finish her fractured sentence.

She shook her head, smiled and waved with her arm stretched overhead, so that my sons, MiLady (my new bride) and her daughter, Heart, could see her 4foot9 frame from our vehicle parked on the street.

“Toodles!” she called out sing-songy.

Bewildered, I returned to the van and my family. As they waved goodbye to Grams, I plotted the quickest route home in my head. It would be a long seven days.

Once upon the highway, the lads took to their books and hand-held games. Heart played music on her mp3 player. MiLady and I welcomed the quiet, but she looked at me concerned.

“Are you alright, my Darling?”

“Yes,” I nodded, concentrating on the eight lanes of one-way traffic, squeezing into four to make room for the repair teams tar-patching the northside lanes.

“What was it that your mother told you, just then?”

“I am not sure how you will take it,” was my answer.

Oh,” she said, straightening in her seat. “That bad?”

“She called you a mother …”

“Daddy said a bad word!” Chef sang out loud and clear.

“No, he didn’t,” Junior and Captain defended, which erupted into a maddening crescendo lasting three minutes. “He did!” in Chef’s shrill falsetto with his brothers’ alto and soprano duet of “Did not!”

MiLady ended the impromptu performance swiftly. The silent audience of Heart and I thanked her warmly.

The lads resumed their reading or game playing, while Heart returned to her music.

My new wife leaned towards me. “What did she say exactly?”

“She told me to listen to you.”

“Okay,” MiLady paused. “I like that. What else?”

“That’s when she called you a mother,” I winced, preparing myself for injury.

“Oh.” My bride sat back in her chair, watching the traffic flow.

“PLANE!” screamed Chef suddenly, pointing against the glass of his tinted window.

“Look!” Captain cried, “there’s another one!”

The lads, Heart and MiLady all maneuvered to see the wide assortment of passenger aircraft coming and going.

“You can identify what airline they belong to,” I said, “by looking at their tail fin or rudder.”

Heart and my sons were mesmerized, but MiLady resumed her face-front position and began to white-knuckle the arm rests of her chair.

When we cleared the maddening collector lanes of Toronto and we found a rest stop for something to eat, I asked her if she was alright.

“Those planes looked like they were dive bombers!” she answered.

I drew her close and hugged her, to save myself from any harm because of the wide grin on my face. I could tell at that moment, she was raised as “a country mouse” compared to my “city mouse” upbringing.

Once back on the highway, MiLady, Heart and the lads fell asleep.

“Listen to your wife, she’s a mother!” I repeated quietly to myself with a smirk, braving uncertain Death.

I do not know what could be more dangerous then driving home on my honeymoon, in a vehicle with four young people wide-eyed to discovery and a new wife, who is a white-knuckled co-pilot … for the next seven days! And to add to the uncertainty, just how well will my French-born Misses accept Irish humour and sarcasm?

This coming July (2013) will be ten years since that cross-country trip, and I believe my girl has faired extremely well. She’s even discovered her own wicked sense of humour, and there are days (not many) that she catches me unaware.

Fearless Females (Day 29): Trade Ya 3 Aunties for A Gramma!

[PLEASE NOTE: There is no post for Fearless Females (Day 28) SUBJ - Best Friends.].

Trading cards.  

Every boy had them growing up.  Any “doubles” were traded for cards that you didn’t have.

Mine were sports cards — football, baseball and hockey.  

But, by the time my sons were born (in the early and mid 1990s), the trading card business exploded into game-playing/ role-playing with Pokemon, Harry Potter, Magic: The Gathering, Dragonball Z … I know I am forgetting a few others, and my sons will make certain to tell me.

If only this idea existed in genealogy … but it could … kind of.

Make a card for the most elusive ancestor that you have.  Give what you know, of course, and list all the children along with the surname of each respective spouse.  Then when you go to conferences, seminars or wherever else you would go, you hand out the cards, or pin one up on the Wall of Ancestors, or other display that is there.

Make a few other cards for other ancestors, one from each of your grandparent’s lines.

It would certainly stand out and attract attention — just a little something different.

But, I wouldn’t suggest doing what I did with any sports cards that I didn’t like or want: clothespin them to my back bicycle fork, so they would clatter against my tire spokes when I went flying down the  lane-way!  

I know great Great-Aunt Bertha would not approve.

Fearless Females (Day 27): Her Greatest Pride and Darkest Fears

[PLEASE NOTE: There are no posts for Fearless Females (Day 25) SUBJ - Motherly Instincts or (Day 26) SUBJ - Education.].

I do not possess any documentation of their journey, nor proof of their lands and losses, but stories exist of a letter in the Upper Canada Sundries — a microfilm collection of documents written by British Counsel, James Buchanan, Esquire from New York City.
[These sundries are located in the National Archives of Canada in Ottawa, Ontario, and a second set of can also be viewed (by appointment) in the Kathleen Mills Memorial Library of Queens University in Kingston, Ontario.].

I have not been able to arrange to view it, but one such letter written by His Excellency excused my earliest ancestors from the Customs House, expediting their journey to York, Upper Canada — more commonly known now as Toronto, Ontario.

They had started off in February 1833 from Preston, Lancashire, England on an adventure that took almost a month. They paid their fares to Lt(N) Lowe. The monies paid out varied upon the age of each traveller. They were also responsible for their own provisions.

Six adults and six children started the voyage:
- John ATKINSON (56) and his wife, the former Elizabeth HODGSON (60)
- their bachelor sons, Thomas (25) and Robert (22)
-their pregnant daughter, Mary (31) and her husband, Thomas BRUNSKILL (32), and their six little ones, ranging in age from just under a year-old to six-years-old.

But, before they reached New York City, tragedy befell them — three of the children died. Which ones? No one has been able to determine, but speculation is that Cholera took their young lives, as it was a wide-spread pandemic at the time.

My guess: is most likely the youngest one and the oldest two.

Strange reasoning, you say? Not really, if you ponder this:
Twelve persons on a voyage that no one has taken before. They must supply their own food — restricted only to whatever they can carry. If not enough is brought, they will need to ration smaller amounts to avoid starvation.

And, then taking into consideration the timeframe of this event (1833), the women would have been put in charge of this critical task, because it would have been expected of them to do so.

But, travelling with small children is no easy task. Just ask any parent who has taken little ones on a flight across the country. Two hours is sheer torture to everyone onboard!

Now, I know some typical mothers, and when the food and money get tight, they choose not to eat. They ensure that their children do first, and then … maybe … their men. If anything remains, they will eat that. (Similar habits belong to a pride of lionnesses after a hunt. These working moms also eat last.).

Another issue is fresh water to drink. It is not impossible to be well-fed and still die … from dehydration. And drinking the sea water, laden with salt, would curb one’s thirst for a short while, but also make the inidividual hungry again, far sooner than if they did not drink at all.

So, armed with this reasoning, I have one question: When did Elizabeth and Mary tell the men that the food was still going to run out before they get to New York City?

My theory is the women told the men early on, while they were trying to figure out how to make the food last. Thomas (Mary’s husband) and her parents, would have insisted that Mary eat properly because of her pregnancy. Mary’s two brothers would have agreed as well.

Now, if Mary is a typical ATKINSON mother, she would have passed off most of her rations to her children, who were probably still crying that they were hungry.

But, there is also something to be said about young school-age children. When they want to be, they are very observant; more so than most adults give them credit for.

Mary’s oldest two children (I approximated their ages to be five and six-years-old), would notice after a few meals that Mummy and Daddy are not eating. They might have also have noticed the same about Grams, GranDad and their uncles.

It would not take a degree in rocket science for a six-year-old to figure out that there is not enough food to feed everyone in the family. I am also certain that this child (whom I believe was a girl) would have questioned Mary as to why Baby won’t stop crying; although she already knew the answer before her mother could give it.

So, your next two question are: How do I know this child was a girl? And that the five year-old was a boy?
I don’t. It is a simple case of gender profiling.

Without thinking, married males rush into life-threatening situations resulting in immediate death (i.e. the family vehicle careening off a bridge, landing and slowly sinking in freezing-cold waters below), sacrificing themselves to save their beloved wives and children.

Unmarried males are also known to do the same, regardless of their ages, for their frail or widowed parents and much younger siblings.

But, when it comes to married women, that’s a completely different story: they tend to rationalize and think things out, because if they sacrifice their lives to save their families (which in some rare circumstances do happen), who will tend to the little ones? Who will do the cooking and kick her sons — and their father — out the door, just before sunrise, to tend to the fields?
And young daughters, from an early age, are taught everything from their mothers about homemaking. Even when Mum is not teaching, little eyes watch how she makes the beds, how she places the wood when she makes the cooking fire, etc, etc, etc.

No, women look at a crisis and think of the after-effects — the next crisis that would follow, and come to their solutions that way.

The relationship between this six-year-old and five-year-old would be taxing, but in this situation — the five-year-old would notice Big Sister isn’t eating and would share what little he has with her.

She won’t take it.

When the persistent Little Man finally gets an answer from her, he shares with his younger siblings, like Big Sister has been since the day before.  Little Man will also stay with his Big Sister because the men are consoling the women over the loss of Baby, who died earlier that day.

Approximately, two or three days later, both Mary and Elizabeth would be overwhelmed with grief and inconsolable with the losses of Big Sister and Little Man.

So, here you have it:  the most fearless female I know.  She has no name, except for the endearing nickname I gave her: Big Sister.

Fearless Females (Day 24): You’ve Got Her Eyes, Dearie

“Do you share any physical resemblance or personality trait with one of your female ancestors?”

Physical resemblance?  I got somebody’s brown eyes, but I forget whose — although, MiLady was mistaken for my mother’s daughter when we took Mum shopping in the West Edmonton Mall, eleven years ago! The salesclerk was shocked when my wife stated that the other woman was her future mother-in-law.

Now, personality traits are another story and a little difficult to blame on one individual, because my female relatives are claiming I take after each of them … no, I’m not talking about the dead ones.

I am almost certain I take after my mother, for my hot Irish temper.

[MiLady agrees.  First time, she's not arguing about this ... that's strange.].

Mum inherited her temper from her grandmother, Eva Clarke WILSON who came from Belfast, Northern Ireland. Mum also got the fiery red hair too, but I wasn’t so lucky … although my youngest son, Chef was!

Mum is also taking all the credit for my romantic side — but writing poetry is a family curse that has outlived my father and his many generations before him.

There is one thing, I know, my mother refuses to take credit for — but she is to blame: my odd sense of humour, which is very … different. To describe it, would be a play on words (or word play, whichever makes sense to you) … but, that sounds like a politican’s answer, doesn’t it?

Okay, let’s try, again … uhhh … Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde come to mind, as the best example. Allow me to explain: depending on the topic of discussion, a simple statement (from me) can be old-fashioned and straight forward (Dr. Jekyll), but if taken out of context  – i.e. used in slang or mistakenly used in modern English — the statement takes a slightly sexual meaning, or turns out to be completely and dangerously risque, whether the intent was there or not (Mr. Hyde).  

Does that make more sense? I hope so.

NOTA BENE (NOTE WELL): the definition above does NOT apply at any family gatherings where alcoholic beverages are served, like a typical Irish wake, where EVERYBODY drinks … and if you’re family, you know what happens.

But, if you are not family, I shall keep these stories for another time to tell </;)

Fearless Females (Day 23): To View Time Through Your Eyes

 

 

Fearless Females (Day 22): the Movie Starlet

PLEASE NOTE: There is no post for Fearless Females (Day 21) SUBJ: Precious Moments

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March 22 — If a famous director wanted to make a movie about one of your female ancestors who would it be?  What actress would you cast in the role and why? 

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A famous director couldn’t make a movie about this particular redhead, it would need to be a fellow comedian/ comedianne in the director’s seat. (Robin Williams, Billy Crystal or Whoopi Goldberg could direct it, if they could stop themselves from adlibing off the script!).

But to emphasize the fearless nature of the leading lady, the director(s) would need to assemble a small cast of supporting characters:
Daniel Day-Lewis as my father (because when I was young, my father looked just like Abe Lincoln),
Sir Ian McKellan as my maternal grandfather, James (as I remember him: very thethodical, very quiet, very old and always tinkering on an old pickup in the barn);
Ewan MacGregor as James (in his younger years based on Mum’s recollections);
Rachael Weicz as my grandmother, Grace (in her younger years for same reasons immediately above);
Olympia Dukakis as my step-grandmother (with James in older years);
Martin Sheen as William, Sir Anthony Hopkins as James and Dustin Hoffman as Bobby — my 3 uncles;
Sandra Bullock as Barbara and Lisa Ann Walter (“Bobby” from “Shall We Dance?”) as Shirley — my 2 aunts;
Stana Katic (“Detective Kate Beckett” from TV show “Castle”) would portray my sister, and
Taylor Kinney (“Kelly Severide” fm TV’s “Chicago Fire”) would be my brother, while
Colin Morgan (“Merlin” from BBC’s “Merlin”) would be me

[*cellphone ringing*]

Excuse me, I need to take this.

[Aside in cell conversation]
Hello, Sylvia, what’s wrong? What? No, I wasn’t told Leonardo DiCaprio agreed to take my part. He what? He won’t be here until NEXT week?!? But, the crews start filming tomorrow with Colin Morgan. No, I understand. You’ll need to call Mr. DiCaprio’s agent back and tell him … [click] Hello? Hello?

[*hangs up phone and makes note to Self*] Hire new casting director

[Returns to group]

Where were we? Yes.

The female lead would be Bette Midler, for obvious reasons — her physical appearance and versatile temperment namely: her short stature, “bountiful endowments,” her smartass attitude, and flaming red hair, of course.

Based upon the Devine Ms. M’s acting experience, she has given us characters that are geniunely loving, caring and sincere, surprisingly funny and unbelieveably risque to the point of being sexually blantant, and yet be sickeningly sweet when agitated, or — Oh, Heaven forbid, if you piss her off! — a Witch from Hell, who will plague you for the rest of your days!

If the director(s) were to take all these character traits and combine them into one fearless female, the end result would be a charming woman that I have known all my life as “Mum!”

[cellphone rings again]

Excuse me.

[Answers]

Hello? Yes, oh, hello, Brian.

[Covers phone] It’s Brian from Accounting. [Uncovers phone]

No, I have not seen Sylvia. She called a moment ago to tell me that Leo — uh, huh, uh huh. You don’t say? Uh huh. Oh, that bad? Uh huh. Okay. Uh huh. Yeah, so what do you want to cut first? Really? Uh, huh. Okay. Thanks for the heads up, Brian! Bye.

[Returns to group]

Okay, Everybody, wrap it up! You can pick up your pink slips and money owed to you in Building Six.  We do not have the budget to make this film. Sorry.