Discovering My Roots

When I was maybe 10 or 11, and both my brother and sister were away at school, my mother's Parkinson's  disease was severe enough to have convinced her to receive the experimental brain surgery being offered in Edinburgh as the future in cures for the disease. Each surgery relieved the worst of her symptoms, but only temporarily. Because she was so severely affected by the disease, if I ever suffered more than a head cold I would be shipped off to my grandparents.

I loved the times I spent in Whyteleafe, where you could walk down the hill and pick up a train to take you to Croydon or into central London; where my aunt had an aviary of canaries and my grandpa tended his garden and greenhouse. He must have been able to see much better then than he could in later life, by which time he had only shadowy peripheral vision.

Granny died a lot younger than grandpa and consequently my attachment was greater to grandpa and to the aunt who had stayed at home with my grandparents and cared for them as they grew older.

My aunt took me to my first pantomime at the Palladium in London and although I don't remember it well, I know I was star struck!

When I became a member of Ancestry.com it was with the intention of finding out more about my mother's side of the family as my brother had already unearthed information about that of my father, using a British site. Because memories have faded and there are few people left to answer questions the task of tracing a family tree is not easy. Ancestry.com has a British site but the archives are not nearly as well developed as they are for the U.S. When I think I have found something helpful I am hampered by not knowing enough even of the history of my grandparents.

I am hoping that a cousin back in the UK will do better and share her findings with me. She grew up much closer to my grandparents in terms of distance and may have spent more time with them.

Although the first (christian) names of my grandparents' generation are somewhat different to ones in vogue subsequently, the family name is not unusual enough to make it stand out in a search.

I remember meeting cousins, but I don't remember their names. Oddly, what I do remember is a white casement window with crystallized flowers spread there to dry....or was that in Worcester and cousins of my father's family?! It is frustrating that I cannot remember clearly and that I am only now interested in my roots. If only I had wanted to discover them when there were family members who knew the answers!

On Swimming and Flying

I feel good! I had the pool to myself this morning, so I swam round and round in circles as well as doing my exercises!

My preferred stroke is breast stroke but, in such a small pool, I can only do 8 to 10 strokes across  when there is anyone else there! I think the breast stroke is good for my legs as the frog like action strengthens my hips as well as rehabilitating my knee.

I recall that at school I would get to do the breast stroke portion of a relay race because every one else preferred front or back stroke! I also remember getting sun stroke one summer, waiting on the edge of the pool, already wet from swimming. Not to be recommended! We know so much more these days about protecting ourselves from the sun.

I was sitting on the bench in the pool, bicycling away, day dreaming and admiring the trees in the courtyard, which have changed colour since I first started using the pool. I emerged from my reverie when a small plane, presumably out of Marlboro airfield, flew into view. It reminded me again of how much I would have liked to complete my flying course and achieve my pilot's license. But the FAA does not allow anyone with mental illness to pilot a plane.

At the time, several people suggested I fight this rule, but I consoled myself with the thought that since it was such an expensive pastime I wouldn't be able to afford it anyway!

The subject of flying had come to the forefront of my mind last Sunday, when Chris and I went to Nancy's Cafe at the Minuteman Airfield in Stow. One of Nancy's slogans is 'fly in for breakfast'! I think that would be kind of romantic, or would it just be elitist?!

Chris also has aspirations to fly. I can't remember if he achieved his license, but he has put in a few hours in the air, which I never did.

We were delighted to see (initially for me it was to hear as it was so loud) a small plane which may have been circa WWII, taxi in. Chris actually saw it land; I missed that. We were were sitting outside waiting for our call and my line of vision was blocked.

Nancy's Cafe was a delight. She sources her ingredients locally. Clearly she also grows some of them as tomato plants could be seen growing at the edge of the airfield. Of course they were way past their best last Sunday! It's serious apple and pumpkin picking time in this part of Massachusetts. Even the lamb on Nancy's menu comes from a named farm.

She greeted her customers at their tables and drew our attention to an article about the restaurant in the Boston Magazine. She handed me a copy from a pile of bookmarked magazines. In fact I had discovered the existence of her restaurant while perusing an earlier copy of the magazine in the waiting room of a doctor's office!

We were there for brunch, but I would love to go back for dinner. It is really quite quick to get there from here!