Category Archives: Memories

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One Reason For Severing A Family Connection

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Imagine tossing out a family memento before you realized what you had. That’s the way I felt when I discovered the old photo I showed you in this post and talked about in the follow-up one yesterday.

In the mid 90s, I had a little plastic surgery. When I did it I unknowingly severed a connection to my family history. I have to admit I felt a little wistful when I saw the old photographs and realized what I had done.

Looking back, it seems fairly shallow and superficial that I spent so much time worrying about a physical characteristic that most people didn’t seem to notice. It bothered me a great deal though and when I got a bonus at work, I took a bit of the extra money and changed my look.

Elizabeth Harper - 1993

Ignore the mullet and how it oddly looks like both ears are sticking out here.

Not only did my right ear stick out in a way the left one didn’t, it was flat inside with none of the whirled bits that most ears have. I never considered I had the option of changing it until I was in my 30s and mentioned it to the plastic surgeon who reworked the area where my melanoma had been removed. She talked to me about the ease of having it done and before I knew it, I was living with a new ear.

When I went in for my post surgery follow-up, I said it felt like she’d cut my ear off and sewn it back on. The look that passed between my doctor and her nurse confirmed I was probably not far off in my sense of what it must have looked like during surgery.

My Ear After Surgery

Was it worth it? I never really questioned my decision not even when I realized the connection to other family members. After years of avoiding getting my hair wet while swimming, and wishing I could wear my hair cut really short, I could finally do both without worrying about how my ears looked. The only lasting negative side effect has been the way my ear sometimes aches when the weather’s very cold.

Elizabeth Harper With Jersey Girl

After years of turning my head to avoid showing my ear, I have trouble remembering to face the camera fully and it’s difficult to find pictures showing both ears at once even since my ear surgery. This shows me with longer hair, but you can still see that the ear closest to Jersey Girl is no longer sticking out through my hair.

I loved the results and rarely thought about it when looking in the mirror or tucking my hair behind my ears until I saw the picture of my great-grandmother and discovered that what I’d considered an imperfection was a family trait.

As someone who worked for years in an industry that liked to have cheerleader pretty types marketing their products, I was acutely aware that product knowledge needed to be balanced somewhere between bubbly attractiveness and at least the appearance of youth.

Elizabeth & Alley - 1994

I look hyped up on caffeine, but I had just rushed in from Atlanta to grab our cat so my daughter Miranda could have her at school for pet day. Notice the before surgery ear I’m trying to hide with my big hair. It’s hard to see my ear with that door knocker hanging off it. 

As a working actor, I recognized that pretty, and young, were often at the top of the list when casting a part. It’s no accident that my ear pinning happened while I was working as a drug rep and auditioning for film and commercial work.

Elizabeth Harper - 1996 - Funny Ears

See it sticking out on the left?

When I was working towards my university degree, I had an advisor tell me that I would not get much work as an actor until I was older as I was more suited for character roles. I thought at the time that he must be thinking that at 24, I was too old and not pretty enough. Having spent time a little time in front of a camera, I think he was right.

Can you find me in the photo below?

Elizabeth Harper - UGA - With The Major-General And His Other Daughters - Pirates Of Penzance

I haven’t done any acting since 1998 when I changed companies and didn’t have time to do both and these days I’d rather spend my time writing. I was never really that good of an actor, but if I’m ever moved to dip my toes back in the shallow and often ‘looks focused’ waters of the acting world again, I can totally rock a Dame Judi Dench haircut especially now that both of my ears match.

Dame Judi Dench (Internet Photo)

Elizabeth Harper - 2011

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What Old Family Photos Can Reveal About You

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This is my great-grandmother on my paternal side. I saw this photograph for the first time about five or six years ago and it led to a discovery I had not anticipated. She and I share more than just DNA although what I discovered in this photograph is due to our genes. Can you guess what it might be? The baby she is holding is my grandmother and I can see that she has it too. (See update regarding this photo at the end of the post)

Need another clue?  This is my dad as a boy. The quality is not as nice, but you can still spot what I discovered if you look.

Here’s one more photo of my dad taken when he was about twelve. I think what I’m referring to is pretty obvious, but I’d like to hear from you.

What do you think the three of us might have in common?

UPDATES: John thinks the photo above it is more likely my great-great-grandmother, Clarenda who was born in 1869 and would be about 42 in this picture, but I still think it’s my great grandmother Eunice at age 20 holding her daughter Clara (Hmm … I wonder if my grandmother was named Clara to honor her grandmother, my great-great grandmother) Maybe John is right, but I think a 42 year-old woman would look older in 1911 than the woman above.

Now I’ve got to go hunt for the photo to see if it has anything written on the back. Free free to share your opinion.

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A Family Connection – 105 Years Later

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Percy Winchurch - Winchurch Brother's Bicycle Shop 1906

Bicycle parts have been arriving in various sized packages over the last few days as John decided recently to remake his favorite bike. I say favorite because we now have five. That’s right, five bicycles for two people and while we don’t have as many as in the photo above, the garage is looking a bit like a bicycle shop these days.

John’s grandfather Percy probably did a fair amount of bicycle maintenance and building himself back in 1906 when he and his brother Roland owned several bike shops in England. They switched to automobiles well before John was born and he still remembers the garage where they sold and repaired cars until a few years after Percy’s death.

When I talk to people about my new bike and what it’s like to climb the hills with three gears, the men, and it’s usually just the men, will say something like, ” You must have one with Sturmey-Archer gears? ” Not knowing much about bicycles before being gifted with Dora, I’ve found a new level of interest in the history of Sturmey-Archer and 3-speed bikes.

I asked John for a photo of his grandfather’s bike shop the other day and was delighted to see a connection to the past in a way. If you click to enlarge the photo, you can see the wording in the center of the store window advertising Sturmey-Archer 3-speed gears.

While my interest in gears will never equal John’s bicycle knowledge, the writer in me wishes she could chat with the young Percy Winchurch of 1906. I imagine he would have been interested to learn that Sturmey-Archer gears and 3-speed bikes would still be popular despite the ability to choose from more modern bikes with as many as 27 gears for hill climbing and speed.

Based on the stories John tells of the grandfather he loved and admired, I think the 24 year-old Percy would have been most interested in the lovely grandson he would have one day. A first grandchild who would be born when he was 60 and would grow up to do many things, including surprising his American born wife with a gift that would curiously resemble the 3-speed bicycles with Sturmey-Archer gears like those in his shop 105 years earlier.

Here are a few advertisements from a very interesting Sturmey-Archer website.


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Stuck In The Middle Of A Housing Market Gone Mad

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This summer I got stuck in Atlanta.

When I went home in April I thought I would see my family and sign new leases with my tenants like I’ve done each spring since moving to the UK. The folks who were in the house had assured me a few months earlier that they loved living there and wanted to stay another year. What I did not know was that some of them could not stand each other.

Some of you may remember my house pictures and post from April. While I was beginning to feel a bit anxious about the rental situation then nothing could have prepared me for the drama that followed when last-minute decisions were made by some not to stay. Earlier in the year I had turned away several groups wishing to rent the house and was shocked by decision of some of my tenants not to renew only thirteen days before the lease expired.

 

With so many people are struggling to survive a housing market that has flatlined, renters have their pick in my old neighborhood. My house is right downtown only two blocks from a large university so students have long been a feature of what is still largely a collection of 1920s and 30s bungalows.

Too many of these houses have been modified to cram as many students in as possible and those less desirable homes have lost rental opportunities to the cheaper condos a short drive away leaving many vacant houses priced at rock bottom prices.

My house has never had any trouble renting and price has never been an issue. As one of the nicest (everyone’s words, not just mine) homes in the neighborhood and only two blocks from campus it has never been empty as it was this summer. Students needing summer housing lock in well before May and if you miss that window the next opportunity is August just before fall session begins at the university.

By the time I posted this one post and later another, my tenants had given me their short notice and I was resigned to being stuck there for an indefinite time. I had not planned on this and with an already too tight budget, I quickly went into a bit of a panic about what to do next. Knowing that I would not likely find renters for several months, I decided to list it for sale.

Foreclosure Mentality

You don’t need to live in the US to know what has happened to the housing market, but I was not prepared for just how bad it really was until I was sleeping in an empty house hoping a potential buyer might fall in love with it as I once had.

Thankfully, I had never used my house as an ATM for quick loans so I was not upside down on my mortgage, but I did pay quite a bit for it eleven years ago even though I bought it before prices escalated to the inflated values we saw before the market collapsed. Once I decided to sell in May, I listened to my realtor and priced it at what we thought appropriate based on the comparable home sales in the area.

The problem with comps is that it’s hard to find good ones in a market gone mad for foreclosures and in the end the only way I could have sold my home would have been to drop the price below what I still owed despite having owned it for eleven years. Add to that the cost of improvements during those years and the 20 % I put down on it when I bought it and you can see some of the reasons why I went into such a downward emotional spiral in May.

The idea of selling at a loss was not the only reason for my misery. As with any house that has been your home, there are all kinds of memories attached that need more time to process than a quick decision to sell allows and it felt like an unexpected death in a way. I know that sounds a bit dramatic, but that house was more than just a place to live when I bought it and held a lot of dreams for my future within its walls at one time.

I went with a realtor who offers what he calls Budget Broker services which is perfect in today’s economy. Even though we could not get it sold in the two months we had it listed, I got a feel for the market and will be happy to work with Kraig again when the market shifts.

For now my former home will need to be a rental and I feel fortunate that it is in a location where renting it is still an easy process.

I’ve had good luck generally with renters. Most honor their commitments without any issue and the biggest problems have been those involving my rigid no pet policy.

So you might imagine my surprise when one tenant had a screaming fit in the front yard complete with f-bombs and name calling along with threats to disrupt my attempts to show the house to potential buyers. Given her unhinged state I was not surprised to receive a series of emails where I was called all manner of things including a ” psychotic old woman.” I may have the order confused as I think “stupid, stupid, woman ” came first.

Given this sudden descent into the land of crazy, you can see why I thought I was better off not renting anymore. There’s a longer story attached to this past tenant and there were several early signs that I ignored. That won’t happen again.

I have a good bit more to share about my long summer of ” lost and found,” but I’ll leave it here for now with the much quoted words of Maya Angelou.

“The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them.” 


 

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Risking A Fall To Get What You Want

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Elizabeth Walking Her Path - 2011

That was me yesterday standing on the edge of bridge so I could get a better shot. I felt pretty safe up there especially as it wasn’t my first time. I climbed up back in May of 2008 right after I had rented my house to strangers, quit my job, turned down another job offer, and sold my car and most of the stuff I’d spent my whole life accumulating.

You see I had a plan for a new life and there was no room for excess stuff. I was traveling light which meant hanging on to only the things and people that mattered most to me.

John and I were still a new relationship back then having only met in person three months earlier, but I knew I was doing the right thing in leaving for love like I did. Having lived a pretty full life for my then 47 years, I knew that sometimes risk was necessary even if when the outcome couldn’t be predicted.

Some folks back home in Georgia thought I was crazy for selling off my stuff and essentially moving to a country where I would be considered a visitor and only allowed to stay for six months out of the year, but I believed that no matter what happened I’d be okay.

I have always believed the Helen Keller quote that, ” Life is a grand adventure or nothing at all ” so off I went … following my heart to Cornwall all wide open with the possibility that the risk involved might yield the best possible results.

And as most of you know, it did!

If however, you’d had a window into my life and events the year before I met John you might be surprised that I had ever been willing to risk a single thing for love. What happened then is an old story with a modern twist and not one you’re likely to read here, but I’m sure it will turn up in the book I’ve been working on recently. I haven’t gotten very far with it yet. Most of it exists on index cards right now as I run through my memories mining for the events that have mattered the most.

There’s all kinds fear in writing memoir such as who might read it and get upset, who might remember it differently, and the really big one, what if revealing the past affects your present in ways you can’t control and ways you don’t like.

Having heard my stories since we first met, John has encouraged to me write them down. By stories I mean my true life stories, not the fiction ones which may have a thread of truth through them, but come mostly from my imagination.

During my recent summer of  ” Lost and Found ” a few other people echoed the same message to me. Some of them were only repeating what they’d said before encouraging me once again to put my real life into words more permanent the occasional musings over coffee or a shared meal.

My longtime friend Patrice, and newer friend Greta Jaeger are two of the people I’m referring to. Both of them not only gave me ” the talk ” about writing my story, but they paid for dinner too. Greta works as a life coach and did such a good job over appetizers that I jokingly said I felt as if I should write her a check for a session as she left me with so much to consider.

My friend Carla Johnson did the final wrap up a few months later when she asked me some pointed questions about writing and my goals. Carla can cut to the heart of something with the skill of a surgeon and after years of working with medically fragile people, she knows how to help expose the truth without leaving you bleeding.

This post finds inspiration from many people, but the biggest push came from reading the revealing email below that I received from Marianne Elliot this morning.

I subscribe to more than I can read these days so most things like this go into the trash pretty quickly. This one caught my eye because I was interested to read about an event she had to cancel, one that for whatever reason did not work out and how she choose to see it as an opportunity to try a new way rather than an excuse to dwell in the negative messages that most of us tell ourselves when we feel afraid or overwhelmed by circumstance.

I’ll leave you with her email (along with another photo of me from 2008 ) and hope you find some encouragement if you need a little today.

Marianne Elliot’s email,  Subject: Ever fallen flat on your face? I just did. And here’s how I’m dusting myself off.

” You know the Creative Flow workshop in Berkeley I’ve been telling you about for the past couple of months?

Well, it just didn’t take. 
Maybe it was the wrong workshop. Maybe it was just the wrong time. Maybe I’m terrible at marketing. Maybe no-one likes me (I know, I know. Lots of people like me. But I did wonder that for a moment. I am human after all.)
Whatever the reason, we just didn’t get the sign-ups and had to cancel. I felt like I had really put myself out there for the first time in the US by offering up an in-person workshop, and had fallen flat on my face. In front of all of you. And all my creative friends. 
I felt a bit like I used to in school when I would try a new trick with my skipping rope and end up tripping myself up, landing on my ass. Face flushed. Heart racing. Ashamed. 
But I’m not a little girl any more. Thank goodness. These days I can recognise my own shame and fear, and I know that we all share those experiences. I also know that sometimes things just don’t work out and even though you might have something to learn from it, it doesn’t mean that you are a failure. 
It might just mean that you should try it a different way. 
So I’m trying this a different way. Instead of the weekend workshop I’m teaching a 90 minute Creative Flow yoga class at 10am this Saturday at the Teahouse Studio, 1250 Addison St, Ste 20, Berkeley.
I understand that an entire weekend was a lot of time, and $380 was a lot of money, to commit right now. So instead lets practice together for 90 minutes. You just need to bring $25, a yoga mat and a journal and pen. We are going to do a little bit of writing to explore how opening the creative flow in our bodies can support our creative work. But you don’t need to consider yourself a ‘writer’ to do this. I promise!
If you’d like to come do a 90 minute class with me this Saturday please RSVP to teahousestudio@gmail.com
On the other hand, we’ve had great sign-ups for the Off the Mat, Yoga in Action workshop atYoga Pearl in Portland next Wednesday. There are a few places left though, so if you were thinking of coming and just hadn’t registered yet, you do still have time. That one runs for three hours (from 5.30-8.30pm on Weds 17th) and costs $50. You can learn more about it here and register here.
And thank you – for being here to witness me as I learn these lessons and for being so encouraging along the way. 
Love, 
Marianne “

Elizabeth On The Edge - May 2008

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Finally … I’m Going Home!

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When I left England for America on April 22, I had no idea I would still be here in July. Much has happened that I did not feel free to share online at the time, but now that I have finally booked my return ticket, I will be back blogging regularly.

Henry David Thoreau said, ‘ We should come home from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day with new experience and character.’

It fits perfectly with what I’ve come to think of as my ‘lost and found’ summer experience and I hope you’ll come back to hear all about it.

Even though I won’t see my  ‘Dancing Ladies’ until early August, my final countdown has begun.

The Dancing Ladies On The Hilltop - Almost Home

I’ve imagined my airport reunion with John more times this summer than I can count and while his face looks very dear each time I think of him waiting just beyond the arrival checkpoint, it’s the memory of our last embrace that I cling to in my mind and how it will feel to finally be back in his arms again.

John Winchurch

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Riding Towards Rough Tor In My Dreams

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King Arthur's Hall & Rough Tor

I tend to see tough times as a challenge rather than a roadblock and I have a hard time giving up when I sometimes should, but my “Who says I can’t do that … ” attitude has been key to some of my achievements other people said would never happen.

There’s a kind of magic for me involved in making the difficult easy and it requires a mix of visualization and a dogged belief that if I want to do something bad enough, I can.

I tend to think of it as the three I’s and it’s a bit like having a portable Merlin in my head with Imagination, Inspiration and Imagery only waiting to be called upon to take me where I need to go when things get tough.

Being temporarily stuck here in America and so far from my husband John has required more than a few dips into my mental bag of tricks and while I feel fortunate to have friends and family helping me, I sometimes need something more to keep my spirits up. The spinning classes I’ve been taking over the last three weeks have been exactly what I’ve needed to balance the waiting game I’ve been forced to play.

Spinning regularly after a break of many years has been both exhilarating and tough. Like many women my age, I slipped away from a regular fitness routine mostly due to aging joints and injuries and with my love of sugar and carbs, the weight came faster than I could fight it.

I’ve been going to 4 to 6 classes a week over the last three weeks and the rewards are becoming obvious. It is not happening without effort and I have to frequently take myself to other places in my head when the instructor has us increasing the bike tension and climbing hills that require imagination to see and inspiration to reach.

I wanted to show you what I see when the going gets tough in class and I feel like I don’t have anymore to give. When that happens, I use imagery to take myself to a place that is so familiar I can see it just as it is in the photo above. It’s one I took in 2008 of  King Arthur’s Hall  with Rough Tor and Brown Willy in the background looking across Bodmin Moor.

Sometimes when I’m spinning, I even toss in a wild moorland pony or two and lean briefly to one side as I to swerve to avoid them on my climb to the finish.

What about you  … any secrets you want to share with the rest of us on what works for you when things get tough?

* Rough Tor is where I’m standing in my header at the top of my blog.

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Birthday Wishes & Sage Advice

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David Morris - London 2011

My dear friend David is one of my very best friends. Born five years before me, he is in many ways like the older brother I wish I’d had growing up. Interestingly we were both delivered by the same physician in the same hospital just as true siblings might have been. Part wise sage and part Santa Claus, he is generous with his gifts and a trusted friend and advisor.

Over three years ago on February 23, 2008, I sent him an email on the last day of my first visit with John. I told him all about my feelings for John and that even though it sounded crazy even to me, how I wanted to find a way to come back to him. Having a practical as well as romantic spirit, I knew he was the right person to reach out to when I was trying to decide on next steps back then.

I reread our emails from that period today and wanted to share a bit of what David said to calm my fears particularly about how fast everything was happening. Here is just a small part of what he said to me.

“Listen to your heart.

It’s a good one.

I know one when I see one.

But it is a muscle.

You do need to exercise it.

Use it.

Take a leap for good love.

For the metaphysical heart.

If you fall, all of us will welcome you and help you back on your feet.

If you succeed (and you will),

then we will all marvel at good love.

Restore our faith.

Be happy for you.

Rejoice.”

Wise words from a dear man who has had a tremendous impact on my life … all good and all so appreciated. It’s his birthday today and I was pleased to be able to share some of it this afternoon having a bit of fun and swapping stories. I wish you could have been there.

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Buttercup Madness And Thoughts Of Cornwall

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John In The Buttercup Field - Reunion Day May 2008

When my husband John and I began our long distance romance in early 2008, I was slightly obsessed with trying to get back to Cornwall in time to see what we refer to as the buttercup field. Standing in the field during my first trip to meet him that February, I couldn’t wait to see it again after hearing him describe how the green space would be a golden carpet of buttercups by May.

My imagination didn’t prepare me for the sight that greeted me when I made back three months later. As you can see by the photo above it was just as he said it would be, a beautiful field of gold.

Elizabeth Harper - Buttercup Field In Cornwall - May 2008

It pains me to know that I am missing the summer glory of buttercups and wildflowers that take Cornwall even higher on the beauty scale and I know that John is missing being able to share it with me.

He’s been sending me photographs which help a bit, but I feel quite desperate at times to get back to him and to our home life. It looks as if I will be in Atlanta for the summer and while my friends and family are doing much to make my stay more bearable, I find I cannot dwell too much on what’s happening at home in Cornwall when I am so far from it.

John sent me the photograph below that he took recently of the buttercup field and as pretty as it is it’s missing a little something and that something is me!

Photo Of Buttercup Field By John Winchurch - June 2011

John Winchurch & Elizabeth Harper - 2008

 

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Jersey Baby Girl Comes Home

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Okay, so I’m not being very original with my blog name for the newest member of the family, but I thought Jersey Baby Girl would work for a while. I intend to refer to her most often as JBG for short and will likely shorten Jersey Girl’s name to JG. I hope it doesn’t get too complicated.

My friend Patrice and I were talking about this last night and how some people go their whole lives being called by a nickname. She said she grew up with a much older cousin who everyone always called Baby Sister and to this day she’s not sure what her cousin’s name really was on her birth certificate.

John’s been having all the fun (I’m so jealous) and doing a great job of taking care of Jersey Girl while her mother and baby sister were in the hospital. They both came home a few days ago and I wanted to share some of the sweet pictures John and others have taken that show what I’ve been missing.

Mom shares a moment with her Jersey Girls

I wonder what he’s thinking here …

John with both of his granddaughters.

That baby looks hungry to me.

Jersey Girl gives Boris the Bear a peek at her baby sister. The crates you see behind JBG’s head are there because they moved into their new home by the sea just before she was born.

Mom out walking with her girls.

JG clowning for the camera in a hat and shirt that John and I gave her two years ago for her birthday. She finally grew into them. My daughter Miranda would tell you that I always bought her clothes about two sizes too big when she was a little girl too. John said she came downstairs wearing the hat and shirt and announced that these were things we had given her for her fifth birthday.


I just hate missing these sweet moments. John’s been sending loads of pictures which help, but I wish I could have been there too.

John with his youngest daughter Rachel and her new little JBG.