Thank You Forgetful Girl and I LoveThe Queen Mary

I am not a good camper. For those who know me, this comes as no great shock.  I enjoyed camping as a small child clueless, as children often are, of the back breaking work involved.  Mother took care of everything, and the experience was consistent and comforting.  I watched my mother start packing vital food stores.  Hershey bars, marshmallows and graham crackers, among the most important, at least three weeks ahead of the annual trip.  As she finished filling each box or bag, it would go neatly in the entry hall, ready to go where the fun was.  She even had a special camping purse, with a first aid book published who knows when and a wonderful camping dress or two, one pale yellow and one mint green, packed away after each annual jaunt, to be taken out a year later for the next adventure.  (Mother never wore pants,)  She also had canvas Keds for the sole purpose of camping.  They were never worn at any other time, only camping.  It can't go without saying, wearing them even to the grocery store would be wholly inappropriate.  (Far too casual.)  I even have the enamel wash basin that washed both the dishes and me.  I hated to be dirty.  All that was expected from me was to have the time of my life.  Mom took care of the rest.

I tried camping once with my small children.  Packed it in after one night.  That was the end of that.  After that fiasco I was in eternal awe of my mother, and Denise Jones.  (shout out Denise if you ever happen to discover this obscure little blog.)

What, you ask, does any of this have to do with  Forgetful Girl and the Queen Mary?  Keep your panties on, I'm getting there.

The Queen Mary, as my enduring husband has dubbed her, is the fifth wheel camping trailer I am camping in at this moment, WI FI provided by the "camp ground".  He says it is the longest trailer in the entire world, and he hates hates hates, towing it.  But the love, that he is, does it for me.  I have a king size bed where ever I go fit for a queen.  (Satin trimmed blankets a necessary comfort.)

Forgetful Girl is my oldest daughter who is more scattered brained than I am.  (almost)  She forgets everything, loses everything, leaves Christmas gifts unused and at my house for years at a time.  Never ever has enough wipes or Desitin for my darling grand daughter Margaret ZuZu.  Yes ZuZu is her middle name.  Named after George Bailey's daughter in It's a Wonderful Life.  The reason being;  George finds ZuZu's crushed flower petals in his pocket, a reminder that no matter what trials or hard ships faced, family is what is worth living for.

So what do these two things have in common?  I'm getting to it.  Again, if you know me, the fact that I generally make short stories long rather than long stories short also comes as no great shock.

Two years ago we all took a trip in the "Queen Mary".  Knowing that FG (Forgetful Girl) gets that mad skill (forgetting) from me, I packed brand new baby outfits, burp cloths (never ever had one in the diaper bag) and of course wipes and the ever absent Desitin.  We were set.

Embarrassing as it is to admit, that was the last time we cruised the "Queen Mary".  As I explained earlier, Hubby hates to tow it.

Well here we are cruising the ocean of highway to my son's horse competition.  Darling hubby captaining the ship.

We arrive at the dock, get Her Majesty set up.  Push outs pushed out , bed made (satin trimmed blanket in place.  (crucial) . I take a satisfied look around my cruise ship on wheels, (not bragging, simply mocking my admittedly ridiculous requirements) and there it is, everything I had packed for Margaret, still brand new, still packed, in the middle of the trailer floor, forgotten.

A natural first thought might be one of exasperation over money wasted on brand new out grown items.  Again, those who know me are not shocked to here wasted money almost never enters my mind.  All money is to me are lovely sheets of green paper, or a truly spectacular array of designs one can choose to put on a shiny plastic card.  The bank just gives them out!  Hard to believe, I know, but it is the absolute truth.  (We can talk about financial consequences later. This is a happy post.)

Since none of the above entered my mind, I went through the basket full of tiny baby treasures.  Breathed it all in, and relived a moment.  Not a common occurrence.  Luckily I have FG and she had generously given the moment back.  That trip little Margaret belonged only to me.  We stayed, played and cuddled together on board our luxury liner, while everyone else went out to have "fun".  I smelled her new baby perfume,  better than any bottle of Chanel No. 5, and cooed her new baby coos.  Just Gammie and ZuZu.

Little tiny, nearly newborn,  Margaret ZuZu and Gammie were the ones having fun.  I got to relive it tonight.  Thank you my dear Forgetful Girl.

Until next time...

In Search of our Noble Ancestors...".You Gotta Hear This!!! " or, " Now I Know Why My Family is Nuts"

My kids are getting tired of my new interest, and yes, it can be difficult to endure stories about this granny or that granny, and do you realize that you are #3,598,679,100 in line for the British Monarchy!!!  I can't believe our last name isn't Windsor.  Just imagine we're royals. (almost).

There are many reasons to research ancestry.  In some cases the reasons are religious.  In other cases it is wanting to know where you come from.  How many nationalities are in your tree.  Solve burning family mysteries.  Simple curiosity.  Find that ultra rich ancestor and curse him for leaving all of the "family" fortune to that good for nothing son who squandered it all away three hundred years ago.  Now there is none left to go around.  Do you know how rich a person could be right now?  I know I would be doing so well that I would be stealing $2500.00 one of a kind necklaces and have the paparazzi all over me.  Oh what I've missed!

If anyone out there thinks like I do, (heaven forbid), it is assumed that everyone who came before lived in a sparkling rose colored snow globe world, where nothing went wrong and Mr. and Mrs. Charming lived happily ever after.  Luckily,the truth is sooo much more interesting.

While friends share heroic stories of ocean crossings where Grandpa MacStrongly literally carried the crippled ship on his shoulders, kicking madly, while his dutiful wife hollowed out the center of three ores, connecting  one atop the other,  then, with sheer will and her petite, but busty frame, held the super snorkel steady, in raging waters, so, her hero, her knight in shining Armour, could breath until all reached the shore and safety.

Admit it, most of us have one of those "tales" in our background.  Not me, every time I think I have found the family hero, a slight wrinkle appears.  For example:   the story of, "Our Family's Very Own Fighter for Religious Freedom"

It begins with a well respected family, coming to America, settling in the earliest of the glorious colonies that began this great nation of ours.  The father, I believe his name to be James, signed the Mayflower Compact.  He had a son named John, who at first glance seems to be "Our Very Own Fighter for Religious Freedom." aka OVOFFRF.  His fight was with the established church and unjust Sabbath Day laws if one were to believe differently.  He even spent the last third of his life, after forming his own religious sect, fighting for the cause.  At last our hero appears.  Oh yeah!  The wrinkle.

A historian writes, "The Rogerenes were a sort of Quaker, who had their origin and name from one John Rogers of New London."  I guarantee the Quakers didn't claim him or them.  "He was a man of unbounded ambition and wished to be something more than the common man...to gratify his pride."  Now, as a wise man once said, "heeres theee rest of the story".

Clearly below we will see why the wonderful Quaker faith might take umbrage at the comparison.

OVOFFRF methods of "bringing down The Man", so to speak, would be on the controversial side today.

I'll just make a list.

1. Goes to church naked.  Since OVOFFRF and his Rogerenes observed a Saturday sabbath they would enter public assemblies on "The Lord's day" "nearly or quite naked...behaving in wild tumultuous ways, crying out and charging the most venerable of ministers with lies and false doctrines."  Oh my!

2.  Disturbing the peace.  "...tuned their pipes and screamed, roared, shouted and stamped."

3.  Wife something?  When OVOFFRF's wife had had enough she was granted a divorce, then married a very nice gentleman.  Her ex didn't get it.  He tried to kidnap her from the bed of her new beloved.

4.  Oh yeah, he burned down a church.

5.  Finally, he was immune to all disease.  He went to Boston during a smallpox epidemic, sat by the afflicted and announced he was safe from the disease.  Triumphant he returned home and a few days later dies of smallpox.  Happily we end the story of OVOFFRF.  There is just one more tiny wrinkle; when he gets home from Boston he exposes his daughter-in-law and his grandson, and takes them with him.

As mentioned above, there are many reasons to research your ancestors.  I decided with this little family blotch, I uncovered a great family mystery.  "Now I Know Why My Family is Nuts"

Until next time...