A boy and his goat
Also on this trip, my grand-father showed me some family pictures his niece has scanned from family albums. Included in them were a couple of corkers.
First - and favourite - is my grand-father, his younger brother and their pet goat. My great-grand-father bought the goat at auction for 50 cents. One day, as my gramps tells it, he told his father that he had been examining the goat and that he thought it was ready to produce milk. A quick lesson on the birds and the bees ensued, and the goat was swiftly sold on.
The next best one is of my maternal great-great-grand-father, who was something in the Liverpool Police, but was also an enthusiastic runner.
Neither of my parents talk much about their parents, and I don't think I really used to listen much to my grand-parents talking about their families. My dad doesn't really have any family, either, and all his family photos were lost about 30 years ago. I think I have this notion that we don't know much about our ancestors, but I guess that's not strictly true.
Finally, a different kind of picture. I was chatting about sewing with my granny, and she went to her sewing table and pulled out an old cigar box. Inside were a dozen or so wooden spools of silk thread in rich, lustrous colours.
They are the threads my great-grand-mother used to repair silk stockings, she said.
Rosa and her husband left England for Canada in search of a better life, but things were not easier for them there. They struggled to support five children - they lost their first son when he was still an infant - and Rosa took in extra work to help make ends meet. Still, they were poor. I often wonder at how hard they worked, and whether they believed that they had made the right decision to leave their home and families.
First - and favourite - is my grand-father, his younger brother and their pet goat. My great-grand-father bought the goat at auction for 50 cents. One day, as my gramps tells it, he told his father that he had been examining the goat and that he thought it was ready to produce milk. A quick lesson on the birds and the bees ensued, and the goat was swiftly sold on.
The next best one is of my maternal great-great-grand-father, who was something in the Liverpool Police, but was also an enthusiastic runner.
Neither of my parents talk much about their parents, and I don't think I really used to listen much to my grand-parents talking about their families. My dad doesn't really have any family, either, and all his family photos were lost about 30 years ago. I think I have this notion that we don't know much about our ancestors, but I guess that's not strictly true.
Finally, a different kind of picture. I was chatting about sewing with my granny, and she went to her sewing table and pulled out an old cigar box. Inside were a dozen or so wooden spools of silk thread in rich, lustrous colours.
They are the threads my great-grand-mother used to repair silk stockings, she said.
Rosa and her husband left England for Canada in search of a better life, but things were not easier for them there. They struggled to support five children - they lost their first son when he was still an infant - and Rosa took in extra work to help make ends meet. Still, they were poor. I often wonder at how hard they worked, and whether they believed that they had made the right decision to leave their home and families.
posted by Sarah at 9:11 pm
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