Feet Up; Time to Think

On Armistice Day last year I was sent a very special photograph - a boy placing red roses, as poppies were out of season, beneath a gravestone in a kirkyard in the south west of Scotland. That photograph tells the story of 160 years of my Scottish family history. The boy is my nephew and the gravestone is a memorial to his great great grandparents, his grandparents and great aunt and uncle. The saddest part is the initial reason for the headstone. In May 1916 my grandfather, John, was in the south of England awaiting embarkation to France with the King's Own Scottish Borderers, I think. He spied a notice asking him to visit the padre. The news was bad - his 11 month old daughter, Jean, had passed away. He was given leave to return to Scotland to bury her before returning to his unit at the front. While that is sad enough, I then think about the man who carved the headstone - her grandfather, Sandy King, a monumental mason. Jean and her mother, Mary, who was an only child, had b...

Valentine's Day is a relatively new phenomenon for New Zealanders. I have no recollection of it growing up as a teenager  in the 1970s. As most of research is based on my local ancestors, that causes a problem. There is no-one who was born, was married or even passed away on 14 February. However, I did inherit my Scottish grandmother's engagement ring in its heart-shaped box and after a few sums, I realise my father's parents, John McMichael and Mary King, probably hold the record for the longest family marriage. Their marriage would be perfect for a Valentine's Day tribute. Firstly, the engagement ring. It is still in its original, tiny leather box lined with cream velvet and satin. Over 100 years later is starting to show its age. The box was originally navy blue, though the colour has faded and the gold tooling has worn off. The little hook on the side is quite bent, yet opens easily. The ring is gold with quite a complicated high chased bridge. Along the ...