Category Archives: Family

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4/16/07 – A VT Mom Remembers

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Virginia Tech 4.17.07

We are strong, and brave, and innocent, and unafraid. We are better than we think and not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the imaginations and the possibilities. We will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears and through all our sadness.

~ Nikki Giovanni

I woke this morning to see this quote on my daughter Miranda’s Facebook page along with a few words of her own noting the significance of this day for her and for many associated with Virginia Tech and its community. She has shared with me some of the private ways she remembers the 32 who died that day and I’m grateful that she has found a way to honor their memory in a way that hopefully gives her some sense of peace.

I say hopefully, and peace, with more optimism than I really feel because I’m not sure how one who has been in the middle of something so violent and unexplainable can ever really let go of some of the questions that have no answers.

This is not the first time I’ve written about this day and likely won’t be the last. I know the events of 4.16.07 have had a lasting impact on my daughter and I worry as a mother does about the silent sorrows that remain hers alone, the thoughts she chooses not share.

My father died 20 years ago, long before Miranda could know him well enough to have any memory of him and for the last few weeks I have been hearing something he wrote. It’s been in my head on an endless repeat cycle almost in the way you hear a tune that won’t go away and I’ve been puzzled as to why until just this minute as I was considering my daughter and how inadequate I’ve felt over the last four years watching her deal with her memories on her own.

People we love reach out to us in their own time or sometimes not at all and if it’s your child, watching from the sidelines can be a difficult position to occupy. I tend to be emotional and very open with my feelings, giving in easily to my tears now after years of holding back. Miranda is more stoic and more like my dad, tender-hearted for sure but private and contained. It’s interesting that I’d not noticed that similarity until today and it comforts me to feel as if my dad were reaching out in a way with some paternal advice reminding me of who I once was and how our positions are now reversed.

The words that have been with me the last few weeks seem perfect in this moment and the meaning clear as I struggle with my own memories and search for ways to support a daughter who seems fine on her own. I am quoting my father when I say to my daughter as he once quietly said to me, ” I am here as you need me. “

And I add to his words my own, saying, ” In this, and in all things, I am here as you need me “

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Not Half, But Whole – Remarriage & Children

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Bryan Cooper, Cullene Harper, Jennie Harper, & Elizabeth Harper - April 14, 1975

Young children can’t always grasp the concept of how they are related when parents divorce, find new love, and have more children with new partners and spouses. When they each bring children from previous relationships to the new family, the soup becomes an even more complicated mix of half and step siblings making it sometimes necessary for a flow chart of sorts when explaining family ties.

I’m the eldest of four girls with only two of us having the same set of parents. Born in 1962, Margaret and I are two years apart. Ten years later, our sister Pam was born into our mother’s second marriage. I remember hearing words like half-sister then and even though I was a reasonably intelligent 9-year-old, I was a bit confused by the concept especially having only just met four step-siblings that I don’t remember ever seeing again.

By 1974 my youngest sister, Jennie, was born on Easter Sunday and being halfway through my thirteenth year, I had a better understanding of the half not whole concept at least in theory. Nicknamed Bunny, by her granddad, she was the child of my dad and my stepmom, Cullene.

Margaret and I were living in Tennessee when the news came of her birth, having been moved away from Georgia by our mother after a judge decreed my dad should be able to see his children more than one Saturday a month.

By the time Jennie was celebrating her first birthday in the photo above, I was living in Georgia with my dad and Cullene watching them navigate through territory that looking back, was more recent and familiar to me than it was to them.

Jennie was born to Cullene when she was forty having passed the age when she thought she’d ever have a child and with twelve years between my dad and his last diaper change, I’m sure he felt as if he were learning everything again for the first time.

In my life with my mother and sisters in Tennessee, I had been largely responsible for overseeing Pam’s care and knew the kind of childcare things that an older sibling knows when there’s a big difference in ages. ” Watch your sister, ” was an all-encompassing directive that could include bathing, feeding, or playing, and I was good at it.

While planning my escape to Georgia only six months before this picture was taken, I hadn’t realized that saving myself might mean losing my sisters. After I left, my mother cut off all communication and moved my sisters to another state changing my sister Margaret’s last name in the process. I lost my relationship with Margaret for the ten years that followed and four-year old Pam grew up with no memory of me, a situation that she and I have never recovered from. Despite my previous efforts, Pam and I are strangers.

In the image of above, you can see me hanging on to my sister Jennie’s birthday hat. After my move, I remember feeling as if I were free-floating and barely secured, much like the hat with only the tiniest bit of pressure keeping me grounded and in place.

That I am only half in the picture feels like an apt metaphor for how I felt about my life then. Everything familiar was gone and even though I was finally safe from the life I had been forced to keep secret, I was struggling to adjust to one without my sisters, Margaret and Pam, and my mother too, despite her treatment.

I began this post with a whole different focus. I was looking for a cute photo to add to a Facebook greeting for my sister’s birthday when I found this one. Having recently had a conversation with John about children and how little they may understand the half versus whole concept when new siblings arrive, I was struck by the memory of this time in my life and today’s writing shifted direction.

My youngest sister Jennie is 37 today, an age I remember so clearly it feels like five minutes ago. I’m sure she would say I’ve been trying to boss her around her whole life while dispensing advice as if I were a third parent or an older aunt, but I have always seen her as my sister, the baby for sure, but always whole and never half.

Although not the big birthday post I’d envisioned, I want to say, ” Happy Birthday Jennie,” from your sister Elizabeth, who once felt half, but now understands whole.

Sisters - Elizabeth, Margaret, and Jennie Harper - 1974

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Too Much Computer Time … What I Say When People Start To Talk

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Back in 2003, a pen and notebook were the tools I used to record my stories and thoughts. Blogs didn’t exist for me and my personal computer was used mostly for photos and email. I had a laptop for my pharma sales work life, but any creative writing I managed to fit into an overstuffed schedule went into a notebook like the one you see on the table.

I never could have imagined I would be able to compose at the keyboard. Typing was always a chore for me and even though I’d struggled through a typing class in high school, I’d never been successful at memorizing the keyboard and I couldn’t seem to use more than a couple of fingers when completing reports or sending emails.

These days, I spend loads of time writing and my computer is never far from me for long. Blogging and writing comes up in conversation a fair amount of the time and I should not have been surprised when a friend in the village quoted some statics she’d heard about the disproportionate amount of time some people spend on their computer as compared to time with their partner.

She looked dead at me after sharing this with a table of people in the pub and said, ” I thought of you when I heard that.” I considered what she said for a moment and said, ” I do spend a huge amount of time at my keyboard, but I treat it as my job. ” I may not be paid for my writing yet, but I will be and everything I do now is with that in mind. So you’re right, I probably do at least on most days, spend 60 percent of my time at my computer, but it’s my work, paid or not it’s my job and this job actually gives me more time to spend with John than if I left the house everyday for the kind of work I’ve done in the past.”

I was writing this post earlier today when John came in to my studio space and said that he was thinking about going over to Lanhydrock for a walk around the gardens since the weather was so sunny and warm. I was writing away and he said, ” You probably don’t want to go do you? ” He knows I can be very disciplined when I’m working and sometimes I do decline a day trip even when the weather is a stunning as it was today.

Although I was right in the middle of this post and another installment of ” Dear Madame, ” I said, ” No, I want to go. ” Thirty minutes later we were out the door and not long after, we were strolling around the grounds snapping photos of spring. Working for yourself means you get to change your hours if you want and I’m glad I did, but I have things to finish before this day is done (word count) so I’m back at the computer even though it’s almost 7:00 and John’s at the pub with friends.

I’m leaving you with a look at our afternoon, but I have a question for you too.

What I need from you

I’m pretty excited about how the next post for ” Dear Madame ” is looking as well as my notes for future installments. What I need from you is … which day of the week is the best day for you to spend a few minutes indulging in a serial novel because that’s what this looks like it’s going to be? Let me know in a comment and I’ll do my best to comply with the general consensus.

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Finding The Inspiration For “Dear Madame”

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As promised, I’m back to reveal the winner of the randomly drawn comment contest. If you guessed Patricia, you’d be right. Patricia’s comment was the one selected by random.org, but I have to say that I found parts of some of the other comments popping up when there was an opportunity to be included.

When I sat down to write the mini short story on Thursday, I had a vague idea of direction based on Patricia’s comment about her mother and her research into their family history. With only a few hours to devote to the project as we were expecting John’s daughters for the weekend with one arriving that night, my Thursday had a few other things demanding my attention and distractions were everywhere.

I always wish to deliver interesting writing, but initially I felt bored by my idea and struggled with the opening paragraph as well as the direction. This changed when I allowed the words to just come and Patricia’s character to show me who she was instead of forcing her to be rigidly defined by what I thought she would say, think, or do. I tend to think first of all the things my characters would never do instead of letting them have more choices. I often did this with my characters when I was acting as well and lack of choice is no good for writing, acting, or real life.

Real life … just writing that makes me wonder if I’ve been braver and more risk taking in my life than I allow for my writing and my characters. I’ll have to give that some thought.

If you had trouble deciding which comment I used, it might be because of the bits of others I mentioned including as well. Windy’s comment had much of her history in a few short paragraphs with one containing the number 17 and it’s significance in her life. Heiko also included numbers in his comment and so the number 6 found its way into my story as well. The mysterious letter had roots in Windy’s correspondence with her English pen-pal, although I think you will find that despite the letter’s UK return address, the way it begins with the words, ” Dear Madame ”  is designed to show that the writer is not British, but French.

Thanks to your enthusiasm for this little story and based on your request for more, I’ll continue, ” Dear Madame ”  in a post during the coming week.

I’m including the comments from the initial post found here along with a few follow-up thoughts from me. I really enjoyed your comments and special thanks to all of you commenting for the first time especially those who mentioned they had been reading for a while. It’s lovely to “meet ” you and I hope you will continue to add your thoughts when you feel inclined.

  1. preobrazhenskii on March 28, 2011 at 12:40 pm said: The quote by W.B. Yeats is indeed quite apt, and your post does reflect upon what we are searching for when reading other peoples blogs.
    Preobrazhenskii ~ I would love to be able to get to what appears to be a blog, but your link doesn’t work 😦

  2. I don’t know that I have anything to share today, but I think this is a wonderful idea. I know for a long time I was afraid to comment on other people’s blogs. The evil inner critic inside me would whisper things in my head: “What if I said something stupid? I can’t say things better than they can . . . ” But, adding comments makes this blogging world a much richer place. We learn from each other. We challenge each other. We also feed each other’s ideas and spur each other onto even greater feats of posting. But ultimately, the thing I love the most is the sharing of stories–because there are infinite variations that show one thing, our common humanity.

    Lisa ~ Comments make blogging fun as well as educational (like your post the other day on rejection and publishing) and you just can’t beat the support that can be found in the blogging community. Thanks for coming back.

  3. Hi, Elizabeth, I’ve been reading your blog for several years – I don’t even remember how I came across it now. Hmmm, something about me. I live in the Pacific NW. My dream is to write more, to inspire others to reach for their dreams. I enjoy sharing your journey from afar.

    Rebecca ~ I would be willing to bet you might have found GOTJ from a comment left by me on Chookooloonks as I can see by your blog that you visit there as well. Judging by your photographs, you live in an inspiring part of the world.

  4. I am an 82 year “old lady” living in Indiana with my oldest daughter (I have 3) and her husband. I have one grandson 25, granddaughters 30, 24 and almost 18 (the recent lead in the high school musical Anything Goes). (pause to take the Dachshund out) My husband passed away when my oldest was 14. I consider 17 MY number in life. I was 17 when I graduated from, high school, was married to my husband for 17 years when he passed away, worked for 17 years as a legal secretary for a well known international company in Wisconsin, and was with my last companion for 17 years when he passed away in 2000, so I’m wondering what I have to look forward to in 2017??? I will be 88, so I’m pretty sure what it will be.

    I corresponded with an English girl through high school and until her early death. She named her first daughter Gail, which is part of my name. Unfortunately, I lost track of the family.

    I am an avid reader and was recently given a Kindle. My daughter filled it with books by authors I like and I said they will have to bury it with me, I’ll never get them all read, especially when I keep adding more.

    I enjoy your blog and the lovely pictures you post.

    Windy ~ I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see a woman with your life experience interested in my blog. I smile every time you leave a comment and especially enjoyed when you wrote that you ” pause to take the Dachshund out .”  I would love to know more about your correspondence with the English friend who died. If I knew more I might be able to help track her family and daughter for you. Thanks so much for your kind comments regarding my blog and photographs.

  5. My Grandmother had a glass case of dolls in National costumes from all the countries my Grandfather had visited with his work, and places they’d travelled to on holiday. It was kept in the dining room. I would sit by that case looking at them and imagine their stories. They were all the more special being out of reach – look, but don’t touch.

    Sarah ~ I love the story of the dolls. It reminded me of a quilt I had as a child with dolls in national costumes on it. I really enjoy being able to check in to see your lovely family and New Zealand photos. I’m so glad we had a chance to meet through Hay.

  6. I usually don’t comment on blogs. I have fallen in love with Cornwall through your vivid descriptions and beautiful pictures. I usually stop by every few days during my quiet evenings to see if you’ve posted anything. Today my sister is in the hospital, so I’m here during the day while she sleeps.

    Carol ~ Even though you don’t usually comment on blogs, I glad you decided to comment on mine. Cornwall is so beautiful and I’m pleased to be able to share it. I hope your sister is on the mend.

  7. what a clever idea. I visit you often, usually leaving a small comment but maybe not always – i am horrible with words. I bring up your blog and keep it to the side of my desktop and read on it in bits while at work. Your posts always leave me thinking and many times you leave a link that I follow and then get side tracked. I love your blog, i love the way you write with such intelligence – usually teaching me something new. I can’t really think of anything new to share at the moment maybe i’ll be back with something later.
    (what i wonder about most is, why, when i visit someone’s blog on a regular basis and leave comments trying to make friends – why they can not, at least once, visit me. it just seems rude to me.)

    Leslye ~ Thanks for your kind comments and support. I think we’ve been blogging buddies since the very early days of GOTJ and you were the first blogger I had the pleasure of meeting face to face. I get something from your lovely photos each time I visit your blog.

  8. I love the picture of the tree! And you already know everything about me!

    Suzanne ~ I know there’s loads of stuff I don’t know about you. Loads! I’m always glad to see you.

  9. I have so enjoyed reading your blog ever since I discovered it. I love the photographs, but you are also an excellent writer as well. I probably comment too much.

    I spent some time in England years ago and I thought, if I ever save the money to go to Europe again I will skip England and go to a country I’ve not seen, like Italy or Ireland. Now, however, I think I would love to see Cornwall. It’s so lovely. Thanks for giving us all a window on that part of the world!

    Dee ~ You’re in luck with regard to how close Cornwall is to Ireland so you could see both very easily. You can never comment too much for me and I always appreciate your thoughts. Thanks for your support of both my writing and photography. I always feel a bit closer to my Georgia roots when I read your blog and I’m glad I found it.

  10. Hi Elizabeth,
    I enjoy reading your blogs, and often I think about adding my little bit. Sometimes though, I head out the door and think, “I’ll answer to that one after …”. Great intentions!
    I live in the South Island, New Zealand, and this year sees me attending our local Polytechnic as an adult student. I decided last year to do something I had always wanted to do – cooking. So I am now in my second year of a Chef course. I have other passions and hobbies too, and some of these make their way onto my own blog.
    The picture of the tree and the quote is so good. So true.
    Keep up the good words of encouragement.
    Valerie

    Valerie ~ How nice that you decided to say hello. I like knowing who my New Zealand readers are. Such a beautiful country you have and I’m glad I had a chance to spend time there last year. I liked what you had to say about your Chef’s course, it reminded me of my dear friend Marty who was in Chef’s school when he died.

  11. One of the joys in life for me is talking to and meeting people, I sometimes do it to the annoyance of my wife as she always says `you don`t know them`, she has over the five years we have been married got used to me having conversations with total strangers and finds her self doing the same on odd occasions.
    Some of the ways I have met people are through commenting on pictures on their blog/website/flickr, I actually did the same with yourself, I must have read the whole of your blog sometimes commenting others just reading everything you have to say and the things you do.
    I was disappointed a few weeks ago, I sent you a fairly long email about myself and my travels and work but unfortunately I did not get a reply.
    I did mention in the email that I lived in Somerset and that only Devon separates me from my favourite county of Cornwall, I comment on peoples pictures as I am a photographer and retired from working my lifetime as a Television Cameraman, do I miss my work, heck yes! but being a photographer now in my quiet years keeps me happy and being able to talk to strangers I meet keeps me alert.
    I will pick my number as 26, that was my age when I moved from the North of England city of Manchester to Taunton in Somerset, why! to further my career in Television as there were more opportunities in the West Country than the City Of Manchester as there are less people in the West Country than the industrial North which led to more work opportunities we also had two children at that time and we thought it would be a better environment for them.
    Unfortunately my wife then decided she could not live with me being away from home for days/weeks with my work. Our children had grown up by then and had families of their own, we still got on even though we were divorced, another number which I could add (cheating I know) is 6, that was the day in February this year 2011 which she unfortunately died of a terrible cancer in her neck.
    May I say that the Gifts Of My Journey`s are made all the better reading your blog, reading about your`s and your husbands life, along with the many blogs I read and in some cases the people I have met through their blogs.

    Heiko

    Heiko~ I think I covered you in the comment below. I’ve been trying to get back to a proper email, but can’t seem to get there. I’ll hope you’ll let this be enough. Thanks so much for reading and commenting.

  12. Heiko ~ Let me first say that I am sincerely sorry I did not get back to you. I do remember your email and thought at the time how lovely it was that you took the time to share so much. While I am not the best at email follow up sometimes, I don’t normally drop the ball so completely. I just went back through my email and found yours and promise to get back to you with a proper response. I do appreciate the connections and people I meet through blogging and I’m glad you came back and reminded me of my tardiness. I can assure that it was not an intentional omission, but rather a distracted oversight. Looking back, I feel sure that I meant to share your email with my husband before I replied, as his career was in television too and I just did not get back to it. I hope you will accept my apology. :-(

  13. I hope you will accept my apologies. :-(
    Elizabeth, Accepted Thank You

    Heiko

  14. Hi! I’m the Florida gal who won the CD from you a while back. I did enjoy the music and want to thank you again.
    What resonated with me recently? Actually, your series on your trip to New Zealand did. I had not talked about that part of your blog with my husband, and he suddenly informed me that he would like to move there some day. My husband is a Florida boy who has always said that he never wants to move, yet he is suddenly planning a future like that! Needless to say, I found myself going back and looking at your beautiful pictures again. Yes, even after the earthquake, we think that we would like the change. It would have to be after little boy goes to college, giving us some time to plan.

    Cindy ~ Good to see you again! I’m glad you’ve enjoyed Benjamin’s CD. How funny that your husband has decided New Zealand is the place for him earthquakes and all especially after seeming as if he’d never leave Florida. I need to post some more NZ pics because I have so many amazing shots of that beautiful county. Maybe you could plan a family trip when your son is a little older. We saw a fair amount of people traveling with children. Thanks for saying hello and sharing your comment.

  15. I just began reading your blog. I followed a link from another blog, then subscribed because I enjoy reading your posts and I love Cornwall (it’s so different from where I live in the southwestern US). My mother is a couple of generations removed from the tin mines near St Just, and we shared a wonderful trip to Cornwall almost 20 years ago. If it’s possible to be homesick for a place you’ve visited only once, then I am–and your photos are a wonderful ticket back to that lovely place. I look forward to reading your story as it unfolds.

    Barb ~ I believe it is certainly possible to be homesick for a place you’ve only seen once. I felt that way about the Isle of Skye after the first time I went in 2003 on a trip with my daughter. I went back again in 2004, 2005, and 2008 and John and I will go again later this year. Cornwall has a beauty and pull just as strong although it’s different from the western highlands. I’m glad my photographs make you feel like you’re able to see Cornwall again. Come back whenever you need a little holiday and please say hello.

  16. Sabrina on March 29, 2011 at 6:56 am said:

    I read your blogs all the time over tea before work, or late at night after a long day haha. I am a 22 year old writer who is currently in the USAF. I enjoy seeing the photos of England and your life that you share and the stories make me laugh, make me cry, make me think of situations that I have been in that are similar. I like having a place to go to read something that I enjoy.

    Sabrina ~ I love seeing a young service member who is female reading my blog and finding common ground. You may know about my own time in the military from some of my previous blog posts. I’d be interested in reading your writing, is there a place where your work is available to read? Thanks again for commenting.

  17. Patricia on March 29, 2011 at 7:31 am said:

    Hi Elizabeth –
    I happen to be a new reader having just found you on Sunday the 27th in the comments section of the Shutter Sisters website (Mar 26th entry about “No Trespassing” and the lengths we’ll go to get the perfect shot). I love reading comments and I tend to be a silent lurker but today you inspired me to answer your call to make some noise.
    The first entry I read on your blog was about the UK Census. Seeing those old census records pictured on your site took me back to my childhood. When I was a kid, my mother decided to research and record our family tree. My mom always loved working out puzzles so this was a challenge that appealed to her…find the pieces, put them together, new mysteries revealed or old mysteries solved… I remember summer vacations at my grandparents’ home in the Ottawa Valley area where day trips wouldn’t be complete without a stop to find a particular headstone at one graveyard or another located on dry, dusty country roads (they all seem to be located on dry, dusty country roads…). This also included the bonus of visits to the more mature members of the family from other “branches” of the “tree” who, although were well-known to my mother and grandparents, were really just strangers to me. At the age of 12, this did not spell F-U-N. I suppose that sentiment might be predictable for most 12 year-olds, but it is truly one of those experiences that I find unforgettable (in a good way!).
    Now in my mid-forties, of course, my appreciation for what my mother was working to achieve increased over the years, especially as the family tree grew and spots were being filled with names and historical details. Mom passed away 3 years ago. Amongst her belongings was a giant bin of “research” that I did not have the heart to go through or toss out…I strongly suspect there’s golden clues hidden in there. As the eldest child in my family and eldest grandchild of our clan, I’m feeling the urge to continue where my mother left off. She made it about 5 or 6 generations back on the tree and I think the next step will involve a trip across “the pond” to investigate our British roots. A daunting task but exciting to wonder where it will all lead…hopefully the discovery of relatives past and maybe even present!
    Looking forward to reading future posts and getting to know you better…

    Patricia ~ Well, you know by now that your comment was the WINNER!  I’m so glad you decided to share your story. My husband is very into his family history having picked up where his dad left off when he died. Instead of a “giant bin” of research like your mom had, he opened the garage to find it stacked full of documents his dad had accumulated from his years of research. Thanks again for taking time to comment and please come back.

  18. Mariellen on March 29, 2011 at 8:56 am said:

    Well I share from time to time, in a somewhat opinionated way I fear, but do not blog enough myself – fancy being on a writing course as I am right now ..and not writing much!?! Actually we are writing loads, but in in-class exercises.

    Looking forward to sharing more with you and your readers. Soon.

    Absolutely loved the tree pic, one of your many beautiful photos.

    Mariellen ~ You are never too opinionated for me! You should blog more often as you do it so well. I can’t wait to hear all about your classes.

  19. What a good idea, Elizabeth. I often wonder why more people don’t leave comments and wonder if I scare them with my opinionated ways. I definitely lack your charm, my friend, but it’s hard to be charming with all the crap going on in the U.S. Maybe that’s why I like to visit here, to be transported to a tranquil, lovely place far away from the reach of Fox News.

    Jayne ~ I’m always happy to see you. You get tons of comments on your blog … what are you talking about? If you’re interested in meeting a Cornish man, I’ve been checking one out for you in the village, plus there are loads of people with horses here.

  20. Gifts of the Journey became one of my blog favorites because I’m an Anglophile at heart, especially intrigued by Cornwall. I’ve not been to Great Britain yet but it’s in my bucket list. Your site beckoned also because of the photographs.

    There is no particular story attached to me, wife, mother, grandmother; still working but hoping to retire soon so that I might spend more time on my passion: photography. Right now there are not enough hours in the day to do all the ideas in my head!

    As I’ve followed your blog, I’ve become more drawn in by the personal narrative that you share so openly with us. Isn’t it funny how reading blogs can make you feel like the writer is your friend? It’s the same way with online photo groups. I have a group of online photography gal pals that I feel are friends, and am convinced that if ever we meet in person, we’ll sit and chat like we’ve known each other for years.

    One of the most exciting things about online followings and groups is the opportunity to view life as it is around the globe, see the things that are different than our home base, yet the things that are so much the same. It is indeed, “a small world after all.”

    Dotti ~ I’m glad to read your comment and have a chance to explore your lovely blog. It feels as if I’ve been there before and makes me wonder if you’ve commented in the past. I know what you mean about the writer feeling like a friend and think that’s one of the best parts of blogging. If UK travel is on your list, I hope you are making a plan to get here. I tell people not to wait until you are retired … travel while you are able do and see all that you’ve dreamed of over the years. Come to the UK while you are able to walk the coast paths with ease and climb the mountains in Scotland and Wales.

  21. I’ve been in love with Cornwall since I was a teenager. I first discovered it in the Victoria Holt novels and then was rekindled by it in Frenchman’s Creek.

    I had been to England before, but had never been to Cornwall so in 2004 my boyfriend at the time (now husband) and I took a trip down. I didn’t get to see Falmouth (which is what I really wanted to see because of Frenchman’s Creek) nor did I get to see Bodmin Moor (the other piece I wanted to see) but, I was able to spend a few days along the shore and experience how amazing it is.

    I’m moving to London in 10 weeks…so I’ll be looking for pretty much any excuse I can to go see what I saw in books in my childhood….

    Sarah B ~ I’ve been enjoying your blog for a while although I’m not sure how I found it. I know you’re pretty excited to move to London and if you want a look at Falmouth, I may have some photographs from visits there. John had a sailboat in Falmouth when I first met him and his brother sails out of the marina still so we’re no strangers to the area. You’ll have to plan a Cornwall trip once you settle in London. You’re moving at the best time of the year which is pretty jammy. (British expression for lucky) Thanks for reading and commenting.

    Heidi Partin on March 30, 2011 at 10:07 pm said:

  22. I have enjoyed reading your blog for about a year now. Your writing brings me peace. Your pictures bring me beauty. Peace and beauty always seem to go together, don’t they?

    I am 42 years old and am going through a mid-life crisis, I guess. My outside life is so “normal” but my inner self is in chaos. I am trying to get a grip of that. I have 3 children between 16 and 11. My youngest is high functioning autistic. I know I have been a good mother. There is much more mothering to do still but I can’t help feel unsatisfied. Is this it? I have stayed home all these years to nurture, to love, to clean, and to be there for them. I all of sudden feel quite empty.

    No one has really been there for me. My husband is a good husband; he provides and is there when needed; but we are task masters and no longer dream makers. I wonder when things changed for us. How sad not to know.

    And so you give me inspiration in your journey. Your journey has taken many turns from what I have read and yet you still have enough flame to make changes, to take leaps. Someday, I hope to dream again.

    Heidi ~ You sound as if you are certainly in the middle of what can be seen several ways. Judging by your age and that of your oldest child, you and I became mothers at about the same age. While I only have one daughter, I do understand some of what you are feeling. I think you have summed up the feelings of many your age who are at your stage of life when you said, ” we are task masters and no longer dream makers.” I imagine that you do for others all day long and feel as if you must steal time for yourself. To dream new dreams or find ways to revive old ones, you need to be rested and you need time to think. I’m sure that may seem impossible, but I encourage you to find a way to do that for yourself. I hope I don’t sound as if I have all the answers because I certainly don’t. Thanks for taking time to read and comment and I’ll hope you’ll keep coming back.

  23. I regularly read your blog to see what’s new and there are often surprises – like you were a professional actor. I also check in on 2 other blogs I like – a young mother in Israel – lizraelupdate.com and my niece’s blog – saratoday.wordpress.com
    The young mom is Israel is expecting her 2nd baby or has already had her. She is a trooper. My niece lived in Birmingham, England for a few months for her husband’s job and blogged about it a couple years ago.

    Three is enough for me for regular reading of blogs because it could take all day to have so many blogs to read, although there are many good ones out there.

    My projects for this coming season are planting more in my garden. I will have a booth at a farmer’s market the Fridays in August, and I want to make some more lye soap and crafts for that, besides flowers and hopefully veggies. I have plenty of herbs already growing each year plentifully. I also want to finish painting our basement and paint a bathroom and the living room and clean carpets with our Kirby, which I love.

    Our daughter has been teaching English in Azerbaijan the last few months and will return next week for another semester of teaching, so helping her to get ready to go.

    Jill ~ I am really honored that of the three blogs you read, mine is one of them. Thank you. It sounds as if your summer is going to keep you too busy to blog yourself although I’ll keep an eye for new posts at your place.

  24. Roisin on March 31, 2011 at 8:47 pm said:

    I am one of your silent readers, I never comment (not gutsy enough normally) but will take the opportunity now. Like others I enjoy your photos and comments and I’m lucky enough to also live in Cornwall but further west. I’ve only lived here for 5 years so enjoy reading about places I have not been to yet and places and things I find familar, (such as your ‘dancing ladies’ – I also look forward to seeing them as it means the home stretch is just ahead). Finally, I discovered last year that we share a birthday, although I’m a little younger and would have been toddling around when you were at your concert in 1976!

    Roisin ~ You can’t imagine how delighted I was to see your comment. I can’t believe we live so close to each other here in Cornwall and we share a birthday too. We’ll have to get together for a face to face meeting even if I’m a bit older. 🙂 Please send me an email so I can get in touch with you. (My email address can be found on my “Who am I” page)

  25. I’m Gina, an Irish girl living in Australia. I have commented before. I have no idea how I ended up finding your blog but I find it is one of the more mature ones I read. Some of my regular blogs I read are full of the funny stories of raising young kids and some I read because they are more inspiring, often in a photography sense. I love yours because you combine really beautiful photography with often thought provoking words.

    I often find myself in work thinking back to the topic you have written about. I find I begin composing my own comment in my head and yet not so often actually finding the time to re-open your blog entry to put those thoughts to actual words!

    I look at the statistics of people who visit my blog and I do wonder who they might be. I have found it fascinating reading the comments left here so far. To see the wide range of ages and types of people who enjoy your words as much as I do!

    Gina ~ I feel as we’re old friends the way we visit back and forth. I may not comment often on your blog, but I always stop by for a look when I see you in my google reader. Thanks so much for your kind comments and support.

    Thanks again everyone!

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UK Census 2011, Clues For The Future

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It’s census time here and all across the UK, people are either filling out forms on paper or adding their details online. John and I did both. He’s saving the paper copy with the family bible and some other documents providing an easy paper trail for future generations who might be interested in looking back at their family history.

Since I filled out my own details in the section for ‘ Person 2 ‘ in the house on March 27, 2011, it was interesting to see my American side showing itself as I started off by putting an x in boxes instead of tick mark as they call a check mark here. I’m afraid I did not read the directions as is my way and habit took over. (click on the highlighted area for a photo of us from my first visit)

It’s kind of funny to think about how different things such as blogging will make tracking an ancestor easier in the future. There is likely to be a record of my 400 posts as of today on this blog and the 82 other posts found on my first GOTJ blog.

If I want to know more about my family history, I have to search through old census records like this one from June 19, 1900. My mother complied two binders with loads of family details, but hit some sort of dead end when it came to my great-grandmother on her maternal side. I did a little snooping last night by going to Family Search, a free information site in the US to look for my great-grandmother and some of her immediate family. (Click twice to enlarge any photo)

Here you can see Bessie L. (Lee) Hood was 19 and still at home on June 19, 1900 when the census was taken and you can see her mother, Cornelia was slightly older than her father, John. I could also tell what they did for a living and that they lived in Sparta, a detail that could be helpful in tracking back in time for more clues.

The 2011 UK Census results will not be released until 100 years from now to protect the privacy of people while they are living. As that will be 150 years after my date of birth, I expect it will be my great-great grandchildren (if there are any ) who will look over the census records and say, ” Look there’s where great-great-grandma Elizabeth Harper followed her heart to the UK, marrying a Winchurch and becoming the first in the family to have a dual citizenship. ”  Then one will likely turn to the other with a slightly superior look and say, ” I knew that already, because I read her blog. “

I had to add that last sentence about reading the blog as it’s become a bit of a joke with me. When topics come up in passing about local happenings and someone says they hadn’t heard whatever we happen to be discussing, I say ,” You mean you didn’t know that? ” Which I follow up with,” You would … if you read my blog! “

 

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Hanging On His Every Word

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Jess loves John. Not my John, her John. Jessie is a Lurcher, a mixed breed with a fascinating history, go on, take a minute and have a look.

They’ve been together for a very long time and the grey on her muzzle seems to increase each time I see her. (Notice the guy in the middle background on the bicycle, you’ll see him again)

She really listens to John when he speaks. Maybe it has something to do with his Scottish accent or how gentle he seems to be with her. It’s also pretty amazing to watch her respond to a variety of silent hand signals he uses mainly when they hunt.

I don’t know if it’s puppy love or just good training, but she really does hang on his every word. (Check out the distance traveled by guy in background) Jess stood without moving even a twitch, waiting for the next command. She’s always very gentle with me, but John told me once that she’s a terror with the pheasants and rabbits that he likes to hunt.

He’s telling her now to look at me and I’m calling to her as well, but she only listens to him.

That’s what I’m looking for … well, without the hand gesture maybe.

They look as if they discussing the next shot in this one.

This is my favorite of the ten or so I took. I think it looks like mutual adoration.

Jessie looks as if she’s thinking that  ” just one more ” means just one more. By the time I had snapped all I thought the two of them could stand after having their walk interrupted by a dog loving woman with a camera and a desire for an impromptu photo shoot, Jess was wearing an expression that appeared to say, ” I’m over it, but if it’s what you want John then I’ll do it for you.”

Unexpected photo opportunities like this one makes keeping a camera on hand and moving a bit slower through my day worth struggling with some of the unexpended calories I was complaining about here.

 

 

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A Georgia Transplant’s Dogwood Days In Cornwall

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Dogwood trees in the American south are some of the early signs of spring and one of the things I missed about my home in Georgia when I moved to the UK. I had no idea they grew in Cornwall as my first spring here came and went without the unmistakable explosion of blooming color.

We were well into a month I would normally associate with summer time when I discovered some gorgeous dogwood trees during a garden walk at Lanhydrock, one of my favorite National Trust properties. Noting my delight, my sweet husband John surprised me with one on a birthday trip later that year.

My dogwood has been growing in a pot outside since we brought it home, living through the building extension, waiting to be planted in a place in the garden where I might see it from my desk as I write. Last winter, Cornwall was blasted with freezing temperatures unusual for this part of England and I worried all the way from New Zealand where we were on an extended holiday, that it might die from the cold sitting outside in its container.

A few days ago, John gently cleaned my little tree of all the dead leaves still clinging to its branches and noted as he did so that it had new leaves. I was thrilled to hear this as I had not held out much hope as poorly as it looked a few weeks ago.

I have to thank Mary for her words and beautiful images this morning. Seeing her dogwood trees in flower made me take a closer look at my special tree. While my tiny dogwood is not in full bloom yet, it looks as if it may have flowers for the very first time later this year.

If you click twice on these photos, you can see some texture that reminds me of the fuzzy softness of a newborn lamb’s ears.

I had to add this imperfect photo which turned out to be my favorite. I went outside twice this morning in my robe and bare feet to photograph my tree and ended up loving the way my robe picks up the color in the tiny dot of pink near the bud on the tree. (Click twice to see)

* The burgundy colored robe I’m wearing was my dad’s and has kept me warm on many cold mornings in the twenty years since his death. There’s something kind of special about seeing it sneak into my dogwood picture along with my barefoot completely unnoticed by me until I downloaded the image. I’m usually pretty aware of what else might be happening when I shoot and was pleased to see this one got past me.

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Inspire Or Enflame – The Power Of Words

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When I was the not so sweet sixteen year old you see below, I thought my dad often talked a load of rubbish. Okay, I would not have used the term, ” load of rubbish ” as that expression has only crept into my daily language since marrying my British husband and moving to Cornwall, but it sounds nicer than what I actually said to him about his way of speaking when I was a teen with an opinion on everything.

Elizabeth Harper - Christmas 1976

I ridiculed my poor father unmercifully about the way he spoke every time he gave me what I saw as a lecture, choosing to focus on how he was speaking rather what he was saying. Looking back, I can see that he was trying to inspire, but his word choices then only enflamed the attitude of a teenage girl who could finally speak her mind without fear of being slapped in the mouth. Having moved to the safety of his home from my childhood house of horrors, I pushed almost every boundary that he and my poor step-mom suggested or imposed.

Soft spoken and always careful to use both good diction and the right words, if he lived here in the UK, one might be tempted to say his speech was a bit ” posh.” I remember many conversations where he would try to impress upon me the importance of speech and the perceptions of others particularly if one had a tendency to sprinkle too much color into a conversation with the use of what I would have referred to as swear words and he would have called profanity.

Pushed to his limit

My father died just over 20 years ago and I can’t remember how many times I’ve told this story since then. It’s been a funny way to share who he was with people who never had a chance to get to know him. People like my daughter Miranda who might have enjoyed a chat with him about her sometimes colorful speech had he lived.

Gene Harper WIth Granddaughter, Miranda

The only time I heard him swear

When I was dating my high school sweetheart, I was so ” Scott this and Scott that ” during those days that I’m sure my dad was concerned about the amount of time we were spending together. First loves can be life changing and I would bet that he was worried about the possibility of things like s-e-x and teen pregnancy.

He would never say it, but I think all of his talk of 11:00 curfews and the safety of not being out too late had something to do how often he would see us in a clinch like the photo above. I’m sure it made him nervous.

Once when I was arguing with him over my desire for a midnight curfew like everyone else, he launched into his safety talk again to which I countered smugly by saying that anything that could happen after 11:00 could also happen before.

I did not let it go at that, but kept pushing, whining on and on about how I was missing out on all the fun things that friends got to do who didn’t have to be in at such an early hour. We were driving down our long gravel driveway having just turned off the main road when I said something that pushed him over the edge and he slammed on the brakes making the car slide briefly on the loose rocks as he said, ” Dammit, Elizabeth! ”

His voice went high in both pitch and volume with his temporary loss of control shocking him into silence. I don’t know what he was thinking in that frustrated moment having been pushed to the point of swearing which was something he never did in my presence and I would guess not at all. Seizing on the opportunity, I slipped in a comment that I thought was funny, but was actually condescending and sarcastic.

My response to my dad’s outburst

Feeling very sure of myself and my quick response, I lobbed a zinger at him saying, ” Pop, if I couldn’t swear any better than that, I wouldn’t do it! ”

As you might imagine, this did not go over well and all conversations about curfew ended with my being grounded for the next month. No dates, no nothing, only school and church and a serious talk later about how not being able to find a better word than a swear one was a sign of a lack of intelligence.

Lack of intelligence

The lack of intelligence talk was one I had heard many times before when I tried to fold swear words into my casual conversations with my father. I can’t remember why I did it, I think shock value must have been a partial reason or wanting to feel as if I fit in with the crowd at school. It’s funny though, I don’t remember using bad language at school because I already knew on some level that the people I wanted to like me were not people who used trashy language.

My view now

I think my dad was partly right about swearing, but I also know that it’s never a black or white situation. The trouble for me occurs when people use it to shock. By people, I am referring in this situation to bloggers and writers I read online.

I find gratuitous swearing a distraction and dislike how it takes me out of the writer’s story. Not because I am prudish or never swear myself, but because based on the overall tone and style of the blogger, it just doesn’t fit. I think the test for me is if I am humming along totally into the writer’s words and bam, there it is, a word that doesn’t fit except in my mind to shock … I tend to lose interest in the blogger.

Which is really less about losing interest and more about losing trust

This is not to say that a writer can’t change their style and shake me up a bit, but it needs to flow, not hit me like a ball I didn’t see coming. If I’ve willingly gone to a baseball game, then I know there’s a chance a ball might come my way, but if I’m just walking past a grassy meadow, on a path I take regularly, and a ball comes out of nowhere and hits me in the head, then I tend to want to avoid walking past the meadow in the future. I might creep back from time to time, but I will certainly be on guard in a way that doesn’t allow me to relax into the story in the way the writer likely intended.

There are also those bloggers I read who are terribly funny and shocking with their bad language and wild stories. I may read in disbelief at times and wonder if sharing what they say and do on the internet might be troublesome later, but I enjoy them because I know what to expect.

Yesterday, I caught an unexpected hard ball to the head. It’s happened before with this blogger and I had gone back even though something was not really right for me. As I said earlier, when someone writes a particular way and then tosses out something that seems purely designed to draw a crowd, it’s like shouting fire when there is none and I don’t trust it. I think this writer has the power to influence and inspire and I am disappointed when it seems her goal is really to start a fire in order to see how many people show up.

As John said yesterday, that’s her choice and I agree with him. Likewise, I have a choice and after dodging one too many balls, I’m leaning towards not to reading her anymore.

I’m tempted to send her an email with a link to this post before I unsubscribe, but I’m not sure any healthy debate would come of it and I’m not interested in uncivil discourse. I am interested in hearing your thoughts. Have any of you encountered a similar situation and if so, what did you do? Did you say anything to the blogger or just disappear?

I think my dad would smile knowing that for all the times I was rolling my eyes and looking bored and disinterested at his talks on the power of words and choosing the right ones, I actually heard him.

Could it be the way he said it …

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Tom Selleck Or My Great-Great-Great Grandfather

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HWC Folk and His Famiily, ca 1876

At a glance, most Americans or those familiar with American television and film stars might think the older man in this photo was actor Tom Selleck all dressed up for his next movie role. I saw the likeness the first time I came across this photograph of my great-great-great-grandfather, Henry William Capers Folk with his family.

The younger boys on the right and left sides of the photo became physicians like their father, HWC Folk, the Tom Selleck look-alike. The boy to the right of his mother, grew up to be my great-great grandfather, William Nicholas Hemeter Folk who is also the adult male you see in the image below. Standing at his knee is my great-grandfather, William Obed Folk.

Mahala Clementine & William Nicholas Hermeter Folk With Their Children, Mikellah & William Obed, ca 1899

Willam Obed, grew up to marry Annie Claire Mattox, my great-grandmother pictured below. I still have a few gifts she gave me when I was a little girl and some of my earliest memories are being small enough to walk under her heavy oak (I think) table in a darkish dining room.

I wish I had known her when she was a young woman or could find more stories about her now. She looks so sure of herself in the image below. I think she looks like she’s smiling with her eyes even though her mouth is set in a straight line. She’s got a sassy look about her that I like.

I do know that she had an interesting history prior to meeting and marrying my great-grandfather and it was very unusual for the time. She had a first marriage that was annulled according to my mother’s research although I had always heard she was divorced. For the daughter of a Primitive Baptist Minister and a woman born in 1879, I’m sure either would have caused a bit of a scandal.

Annie Claire Mattox

Annie Claire and William Obed had three children, one being my great-aunt, who was christened William Michael Folk, a name which evolved into Wylly Folk with the addition of St. John after her marriage. The baby below with ” Willy Mike ” as they called her, is my grandfather, Walton Obed Folk.

Walton, Wylly & Minnie (Her Doll)

Walton as a baby with older sister, Willy Mike.

Here you see my grandfather, Walton with my great-aunt Wylly and their baby brother, my great-uncle Johnny. ( Photo was hand colored by my sister Margaret )

My great-grandfather, William Folk with his boys, Johnny and Walton around 1928.

My grandfather Walton grew up to marry Elizabeth Procter shown in the photo from the 40s above.

Their only child was my mother, Elizabeth Judith who was born in 1940 and is shown here with her father, Walton.

She married my father, Gene Harper in December of 1959.

Gene & Judy Harper With Daughter, Elizabeth - 1960

Nine months later I was born. That’s me, Elizabeth Elwyn Harper when I was about 12 weeks old. You can find out interesting things when you spend time searching through your family history.

I had always thought I was the fourth Elizabeth in a row in my family, but it turns out my great-grandmother Bess Proctor was not an Elizabeth after all, but a Bessie making me only the third Elizabeth and not the fourth as I have always said when telling stories about my family history.

What about you, have you ever discovered some bit of family history that you’d thought was true that actually was different from what you’d always believed?

 

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Nobly And Faithfully, She Did Her Duty

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Bessie, wife of  J.H. Henderson, was a woman it seems with little history other than this beautiful tribute given in her memory at St Mary’s Church in Tenby, Wales. Like many places of worship in the UK, there has been a church at this location in some form as far back as Norman times although the oldest part of this structure is only as old as the 13th century.

You may laugh when I tell you that I spent at least six hours trying to discover more about the woman who inspired the memorial above. I wanted to know what type of duty she did, ‘ Nobly, and Faithfully.’

I was disappointed to find little information about her, right down to not being 100 percent sure I’d discovered her true given name. I found evidence of a son who died at 38 in wartime France in 1917, but as hard as I searched I could not find much more than that.

I’m usually very good at this type of detective work and while I located loads of family, Bessie, Betsey A, or Betsy, never seemed to be around at census time and with no marriage license it was hard for me to confirm some of what I found.

She showed up in documents twice during her childhood, but only once during her adult years and even then, she was with her in-laws on the day of the census. While her plaque identifies her as Bessie of Red House, in the two census reports that occurred during the time she and her husband were living at Red House, only John Henderson, her husband, made the census report.

All of the dead ends today made me think about what someone might be able to discover about me 92 years from now. I think I’ve made it pretty easy having written and published 470 posts (a combination of this blog site and my first GOTJ) so even if I don’t get to say everything I’d like to before I die, I will have left enough for someone to have a pretty good idea who I actually was in this life.

While standing close to the memorial, I snapped a few photos quietly, respectfully, and without flash, just like I always do when I’m visiting a church and then I snuck the two pictures you see here. I never moved from my location and was a fair distance away so I don’t think woman I was trying to photograph noticed me at all.

I didn’t linger after taking the photo as I didn’t want to disturb her, but I wondered then as I still do now, who she might be remembering with her candle.

Nobly And Faithfully, She did Her Duty

How about you … do you have any idea of how you might want to be remembered ?