Twice Upon a Time.......: REMBRANCE DAY–11/11/11

Twice Upon a Time.......: REMBRANCE DAY–11/11/11

REMBRANCE DAY–11/11/11

 

 

November 11, 2011 – I gulped back tears as I watched my 16 year old son pull on his uniform and those heavy black boots and prepare to march in St Albert’s Remembrance Day parade today – he looked so grown up and yet so vulnerable and as he proudly took his place among his Army Cadets my tears flowed.  As he marched among hundreds of other Cadets and the real heroes – the men and women who had served our Country throughout the years – I silently thanked them for our freedom, and for the opportunities they have given us.  For the 100’s who lined Perron Street, in St Albert Alberta I am sure they shared my thanks and many, my tears, thinking of the sacrifices that so many have had to make for our freedom and safety.

 

My grandfather William Maxwell Lundy was one of them.  I only wish I had a picture of him so I could see exactly what he looked like but I suspect in looking at my own dad’s WWII RCAF pictures there would be a strong family resemblance.  Although William physically survived WWI, the damage done by war is evident of his life.  He is a mystery to our family perhaps not totally of his own desire but as a result of the war he volunteered to serve in. 

One February 4, 1916 William Maxwell Lundy solemnly declared  at the Toronto Recruitment Depot, that he was willing to “engage and serve in the Canadian Over-Seas Expeditionary Force, and to attach to any arm of the service for the term of one year, or during the war now existing between Great Britain and Germany…”  According to his Attestation Papers he was assigned to the 4th Divisional Cyclists CDF as a stenographer, a section of the 102nd Battalion, and at 22 years and 3 months of age he became a Private, serving his country.  Only 6 years older than the son I watched today getting ready to honour those soldiers who went before him. 

William is listed as only being 5’3” which seems awfully small – only my height, his girth “when fully expanded “ was only 24 inches and he’s listed as having fair complexion and hair and blue eyes. He weighed 120 lbs – the same weight as Doug is now.   He was discharged as being ‘medically unfit’ a short 18 months later on August 31, 1917 .  What he endured during that period of time can only be imagined because although his papers list his injuries as being a damaged right hip and arm, the mental cost was far greater.

William who was born in Toronto on October , 1893 and was listed as a single man in February 1916 when he enlisted, but in April of that year he and my grandmother Reta Wright, his first cousin married in Toronto. He left for England to serve his Country in that same month (April)  and arrived in France on August 10, 1916.  He was wounded on August 12, 1916 – two days after his arrival when he was partially buried by the shell explosion which resulted in his physical injuries but also a ‘shell concussion’  The medical case sheet attached to his papers which I ordered from Ottawa read:  “  On August 12, 1916 at Dickiebusch  (France) while on piquet was struck by a whiz-bang at the posterior lower border of right axilla.  The fragments were removed at dressing station.  It splintered the right humerus badly.  At same time right instep, left ankle were crushed.”    He was left with permanent damage to his arm, deafness in his left ear and weakness in his leg and underwent a number of operations in attempts to correct the damage done by this explosion.  The medical notes record that he was doing well after these operations and his general condition was ‘good’ and on December 16, 1916 he sailed from Liverpool for Canada on the S. S. Andania for the Spadina Military Hospital where he remained for  another few months recovery.

My father Stuart Maxwell Lundy was born 9 months from the time William arrived back in Canada; considering his dad left within days of his marriage the couple had little time together before their lives were forever changed by War.  My grandfather did not return as the man he was when he left although I don’t suppose any soldier does.  The term ‘shell shocked’ was first used during WWI and it appears that the ‘shell concussion’ sustained after only two days in the war field had a permanent impact on young William’s life.  He was formally discharged from the Army in August 1917, only weeks after my father was born but from stories told by my grandmother he had turned into a very angry, bitter man who was mentally abusive to Reta and Stuart and eventually disappeared completely from their lives. 

My dad never spoke of his father and my grandmother’s comments were minimal as well; I was able to finally discover that he had moved to British Columbia sometime around 1930 and remained there until his death in 1969 in Victoria.  His death announcement made no mention of my grandmother or dad (I’m glad both of them had passed before I found that information) and his final resting spot was not listed either.  What a sad ending to his story – and how unfortunate that war had taken such a toll – not just the physical part but obviously the mental part as well.

As I stood today in my community of St. Albert I can only be thankful that the army trucks seen on our street today were for ‘decoration’ only; that they were there for us to remember, not to be feared.  I looked around at all of the military personnel who so proudly saluted and wore their medals of honour with pride and silently thanked them and prayed that other families will never have to experience the pain felt by so many before them.  I am glad that we are finally recognizing the mental toll that war plays on our soldiers although I doubt we will ever really understand.  And while I am so very proud of my youngest son’s commitment to his Cadets and his feelings about joining the military when he is old enough, I pray that he will never have to see War as those before him have done, that his role will be one of peacekeeping to ensure we all continue to live in a safe country where our freedom is ours.

Thanking all those soldiers who have gone before…..

 

Till next time……………….

 

 

Rembering 9/11 - DO YOU REMEMBER WHERE YOU WERE WHEN....?

DD

When the alarm went off at 6:45am in St. Albert (Edmonton) Alberta on Tuesday September 11, 2001, I hit the snooze button as usual in an attempt to gain that much needed and wanted 10 minutes of extra sleep – never imagining that those next 10 minutes were actually the last really calm time we would ever have again….that our world as we knew it – despite all its flaws – would change forever.  As the announcer came on  
 again at 6:55 – his words jarred us awake that a plane had hit the World Trade Centre in New York and had us moving quickly to the TV downstairs to take in what was an unbelievable sight of the World Trade Centre, smoke billowing from the upper floors and breathtakingly the sight of a second plane hitting the other Tower in the minutes that followed.  I remember us all sitting in stunned silence not understanding or believing what we were watching and feeling helpless but knowing that everything we ever knew had changed forever.

The impact of 9/11 has been felt and seems to have been discussed by literally everyone around the world in the past ten years since that fateful day ,the images of the planes crashing there, in Pennsylvania and at the Pentagon in Washington DC and the aftermath of those event are forever etched in our minds and hearts and are ever present visually on television and the internet.  It is a moment in time that was immediate and searing into our brains that cannot be forgotten.

The immediacy of the information was gruesomely fascinating and still is ten years later but made me begin to think about whether this way of receiving difficult information has been positive or has it made us less sensitive to bad news.

Our ancestors certainly did not have the same availability to news – good or bad – and I often wonder what they would think of all the changes that have occurred and whether they would have ever dreamt of such a thing back in the day.  Some of my ancestors set sail from Devon England in the late 1600’s to venture across a desolate, dark and virtually unknown body of water to come to the New World to re-start their lives.  The trip took months and during that time their families and friends would have no news of their loved ones,  if ever again once they left those shores in England.  If the new arrival chose he might send a letter home saying he had arrived safe and god help their relatives if those travellers were as disorganized as me!!) but the time line of that information to arrive back in England would be close to a year before it might be in the hands of those left behind.  Things did not change much over the next few hundred years as my family moved from the Eastern seaboard, inland to New Jersey, Pennsylvania and then to Canada at the time of the American Revolution.  Their decisions to make these moves were not broadcast in any manner other than short notations in Quaker Meeting notes and their arrivals in their new community were only noted in the same manner.  Did the families they left behind wonder about them? Did they hope and wait for word from other settlers and traders who might have seen them along the way?

Throughout the last three or four hundred years since the first Lundy family member set foot in the New World there has been numerous world changing events that have impacted life on a daily basis but the effect was much different than that of 9/11 not because it was less damaging but because its impact was muted by its delivery to the individuals involved and to the masses.  We know that early war battles like the American Revolution, the Civil War and the Battle of 1812 were often fought in front of an ‘audience’ who lined the fields with their picnic baskets to watch the fighting on some sites.  The information sent to family about casualties in these wars and even those fought during World War I and II were shared via telegrams or letters which were not instantaneous and often did not arrive in a timely fashion to those family members desperate for news.  Incidents like the Titanic sinking, earthquakes or floods would eventually be known to others but well after the actual fact as the information through the years be it through morse code or word of mouth was still a very slow process.

The pain however, of hearing news, regardless of how it is received can never be easy and the impact whether it happened at the moment or sometime earlier cannot be measured by the media it was delivered by.  In some ways I believe that reading and seeing things in black and white may have more impact and lasting effect than the fleeing sight or sounds relayed to us via the television sets or computers which are now ever present in our homes.  I have been fortunate to find a copy of a letter written in Toronto to Isaac Lundy, my 3^rd great uncle and postmaster who was living in Newmarket, Ontario in August 1834, from his nephew Lardner Bostwick Lundy regarding the death of  Lardner's  father from cholera .  The letter cautions his Uncle Isaac “be careful how you communicate this news to grandmother…” as he speaks of4 or 5  people dying each day and that " the doctors are baffled as they cannot cure it at all". 

 That letter and its words were obviously seared in the mind of Isaac and other family members and could be picked up again and again to read and remember for years to come.  I know when I was given a copy of it in 2007 it brought tears to my eyes and the impact of seeing those words in writing was dramatic.

For me the impact of television and the changes this media would make on our knowledge of the world will always be measured by November 22, 1963 when President John Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas.  While there had been other assassinations and world events that I had read about or heard about in the newspapers or radio previously, when Walter Cronkite broke into my favourite noon time television show on that day I initially felt annoyed that my show was pre-empted, but then shocked by the news he provided.  This was the beginning of a new way of communicating to the masses and the following days continued to have the same shock value and impact that I can still vividly remember today some 50 plus years later.  Watching the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald live on television the following morning on the grainy small black and white television screen in my parents home appeared more like a movie than real life and the days following with JFK’s funeral were very surreal in 1963.  But this was only the start.

Television had now become a mainstay of news and our knowledge suddenly became faster and more graphic in our minds.  Over these past 50 years from that day in 1963 we have continued to see television newscasts grow and where it started out to provide us with a daily update to world news including video of the fighting in Vietnam, assassinations worldwide and the falling of the Berlin Wall it has now become a means of seeing things in the instant it is happening – like the floods, hurricanes, other wars and certainly like the attacks in New York on 9/11 – now all in brilliant colour with analysis from different viewpoints that sometime take away from the event we are watching. Has it been better?  Or have we become so used to seeing things on such an immediate basis have we become immune to the shock value of much of life around the world.

“Do you remember where you were?.... “ is a favourite phrase when anyone talks about worldwide events – and for most of us when we hear that phrase those images come roaring back with the accompanying memories of that day.  But do we have anything to hang on to like the letters or telegrams – to me they are concrete and make an event seem more real, does it lessen its impact on our minds when we are so inundated with the daily visual news?  Has it made our life more difficult to live, knowing so quickly and graphically the good and the very bad in our world???  Sometimes I feel like I’m on a treadmill on fast forward.  Remembering 9/11 and the shocking images that are repeated over and over on television and the internet can still evoke pain and sadness but I have to wonder if our ancestors way of life and their reception of world events on a slower and more methodical manner may not have been healthier…….

Till next time…………………

Twice Upon a Time.......: Happy Father's Day - 2011

Twice Upon a Time.......: Happy Father's Day - 2011

Happy Father's Day - 2011

 Its Father’s Day this weekend and I started thinking about the my own father and other’s in my family tree who have lead the way in providing the love and support needed to ensure their offsprings knew their love and what it meant to be loved…..and it also lead to me recognize the fact that being a sperm donor doesn't necessarily mean you’re best for the job and not having a dad growing up sometimes means you are.

Stuart and his mom Reta

I would imagine those Father’s in our Tree who ventured to the New World in the 1600’s and who co-produced some very large families over the years are smiling down on us now knowing that we learned well from their work ethic and moral background and sense of adventure and are happy that the family has continued to produce or married men who are strong Dads who love their children – whether they actually helped create them…..or ‘inherited them”.

Mom and Dad on the 50th

My own dad – Stuart Maxwell Lundy was raised by a single mom Reta Louisa Wright Lundy…..his own dad William Maxwell Lundy was actually a first cousin to his mother and they were married shortly before he left to serve in the army during WWI.  Unfortunately he was seriously injured at Ypres on his first day of duty there and flown home to recover – sadly his diagnosis was ‘shell shock’ (now known as post-traumatic stress syndrome) and he became an angry, nasty man who disappeared completely a few years later.  But that did not stop Reta from ensuring her son had the love and caring necessary to ensure he grew up to be a great Dad to my sister Pat, brother Kent and I.  My dad was a hard worker and taught all of us the meaning of that kind of dedication.  I don’t remember him taking a lot of ‘sick days’ and we all knew that he meant business when he got angry with us – although he was also a bit of a teddy bear who could be convinced at times to reduce his punishment.  He grew up in Toronto and from what I understand moved a lot in his young life as his mom worked as a hair dresser and then as a secretary for a jewellery company trying to support them; their life must not have been easy as it certainly wasn’t a popular choice to raise children as a single parent back in the ‘20’s but they managed.  My grandma was always ‘there’ for us too….so obviously taught her son well.

  Stuart served in the Royal Canadian A

Stuart as a young officer

ir Force as an airplane mechanic during WWII for the 416 Lynx Squadron and saw action in England and Europe during that time.  He met my mom there – Annie Sinclair Pattison – who was also serving with the St John Ambulance in England and they married in July 1946 when they returned to Canada.  I was the first born in 1948 and my sister Pat followed three years later in 1951 and my brother Kent years later in 1960.  My dad worked at Fashion Jewellery Company in downtown Toronto when I was little and in 1957 was involved in a horrid explosion at work that left him with 3^rd degree burns to his legs.  I still remember going to visit him at St Mikes hospital in Toronto the day after the accident; he had taken a turn for the worse overnight and no one stopped my mom and I going into his room where I saw him – briefly – with tubes and machines all hooked up to him.  I don’t remember another thing until sometime later I remember being with a security guard reading comics somewhere else in the hospital…..still feel sick thinking about that….but I also remember visiting him constantly while he was in the hospital (my mom was there every day and my grandma helped us out at home), snuggling with him in his hospital bed and sharing his meals, and much later loving the feeling of us ultra smooth scarred legs from so many skin grafts.  I don’t remember him every complaining about the pain or agony he must have gone through and as years went on didn’t even remember he had those scarred legs until someone else brought it up.  In later years he was a salesman for Lacal Industries in Newmarket and later an auditor for a magazine company and travelled quite a bit.  Funny what you remember – when he 

Announcement of Dad's job with Lacal

came home from these business trips we always celebrated with “Uncle Gino’s Pizza” – from a local pizza store in Scarborough.  I probably hurt him a great deal becoming a single mom in 1972 myself – but maybe it was more because he knew how hard it was growing up without a dad in his own life – but he supported me – often shoving an extra $20 into my hand when I visited home and later taking a zillion pictures of my son who he obviously loved and was proud of. He was quite a photographer – my brother still has hundreds of his slides which I hope we get to review again one day…..and I remember many a Saturday as a very little girl,  him taking me downtown to a camera shop where he conferred regularly about cameras and such.  I loved taking my Brownie Reflex camera (wonder what happened to it) with me when we went out and taking pictures- just like my dad. My son Trevor named him “Bompa” and it stuck with all the grandchildren. My dad had a wicked sense of humour – making sure I had a creepy crawler in my stocking every Christmas,  knowing it would cause a commotion when I found it, giving me a Montreal Canadian Hockey jersey instead of a Leaf one – almost ruining one Christmas and even dressing up in weird costumes at Hallowe’en and running up and down the street delivering red light bulbs to some our neighbours (didn’t understand the significance till much later obviously).  He was a proud member of the Masonic Lodge and later a Shriner – a role he took very seriously and loved – especially driving young burn victims to childrens’ hospitals in Montreal and Buffalo.  My parents were married for over 50 years before he passed away in 1998 and fortunately he got to meet my youngest son Doug when we went back to Ontario to help them celebrate the occasion.  I was living in Alberta when he passed away and never got the chance to really say goodbye to him…but I hope he knows how much he taught me and how much I still miss him.

Brian Alexander Stuart

Brian on the Farm

Brian as a young athlete

Brian in Harriston

Guess I inherited my grandma’s luck with men in my life too…as I too raised one child as a single mom and later married a ‘not so nice man’ but had a wonderful daughter who I also raised as a single mom for a few years …..but they too have lucked out I guess with my husband Brian Alexander Stuart…..cripes as I start typing this I realize he too was raised by a single parent – but in his case his dad who obviously gave him some good foundation as well.  Brian was born in Toronto and spent much of his growing up years in Harriston, Ontario on a farm owned by Luella and her brother Allan Cross.  These were people who were family friends and who invited Brian to come and work on their farm at the age of 8.  He talks fondly of those years in Harriston with Aunt Luella – the story reminds me of Anne of Green Gables…except of course he was a boy not a girl…..but Aunt Luella, a single lady her whole life – loved him to death and certainly instilled some strong moral and ethical beliefs in his mind.  We visited her a number of times prior to her death and I loved hearing her stories of his childhood….how she would chase him around with the broom when he was bad and how she made him eat every scrap of food on his plate (he still does)….I could just picture it….but I also heard about him working long hours in the fields with the other adult farm hands, driving a tractor and falling asleep exhausted on the couch in the kitchen at night.  Brian was a good athlete – attended school and played football at Lawrence Park Collegiate, baseball in Harriston and was, and still is a good hockey player.   He owns a successful company for more than 30 years and more recently has worked with an inner City Edmonton school as a bus driver for those young kids.   More than all of  that he is a good dad…..he has two daughters of his own Megan and Erin who sadly he doesn’t see often but I do know how much he loves them and wants the best for them.  But mostly I want to thank 

Brian introducing his family to Neil Young

Brian, Doug and I-Oiler fans forever

him for all he has done for my two older kids – Trevor and Caolaidhe – and for being a great dad to our son Dougie as well.  We also fostered over 60 kids for many years and he still is in contact with some of them who regard him as ‘dad’ when it comes to questions in their lives.  I remember him telling Trevor he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me and promised him he would never hurt me….something that was very important to Trevor given the way he was raised.  Brian and I certainly didn’t always see eye to eye with his treatment of my daughter during her teen years…but strangely he was, I guess, more right than wrong as they have an incredible relationship now that sees her talking to him far more than me over most issues.  Caolaidhe and him have travelled to Seattle for NFL football and discuss affairs of the heart, hockey and music at length on a daily basis.  I will never forget the night he took us to meet the legendary Neil Young backstage after one of his concerts – he and Brian were buddies growing up in Toronto – and hearing Caolaidhe in the back seat of the car repeating over and over “I have the best f…stepdad in the whole world”….I know she feels that way about him about everything.    He encourages Doug in hockey (altho I still think sometimes too hard) but is so very proud of him and stays on top of his teen antics to ensure they don’t get too far out of hand….. my three are all so proud to call him dad – or step dad as well. 

All of Brian's kids-Trevor, Erin, Doug, Megan and Caolaidhe

Brian and grandson Gibson with matching cheeks

Trevor Lee Kent Lundy

Trevor and Caolaidhe with St Albert Childrens Theatre

Trevor and Lucius

And finally I must comment about my oldest son Trevor Lee Kent Lundy who is a very loving and caring dad to his two sons Lucius and Gibson.  I am so 

Trevor and Gibson

very proud of him and get teary eyed watching him enjoy his role as their dad.  He too did not have role model growing up and yet somehow managed to learn the skills necessary to provide a strong image for his own sons.and a huge support and supporter of his little sister Caolaidhe. Trevor was born Toronto as well and we moved to Edmonton when he was only five.  He attended a 

very unique day care in downtown Edmonton when he was young and many of his peers were young Vietnamese Boat children who had survived unimaginable horrors to make it to Canada safely.  They were fascinated with his blond hair and gathered around him daily while he taught them such important things as to imitate the Fonz from Happy Days.  Trevor enjoyed sports as well and played hockey for a few years, soccer for many more and was an incredible actor with St Albert Children’s Theatre as well as Body Works on television and in movies.  He moved to Jasper after he finished school and met and married a wonderful, beautiful young lady Rebecca Seddon who I’m so very proud to call my daughter in law. Now they live in Kimberley BC so I don’t see them much which makes me sad but Lucius and Gibson are the icing on the cake making me a very proud and happy Grammie as well.

Never ceases to amaze me how history repeats itself and while I didn’t think about it when I started, it appears the Dad’s close to my heart had many of the same struggles in their lives but also managed to maintain and grow from that to become such strong adult role models.  On this 2011 Father’s Day I want to say thank you to Stuart Maxwell Lundy, Brian Alexander Stuart and Trevor Lee Kent Lundy for being there….and for giving so much of yourselves to ensure our future continues to be positive.

Till next time……………………………

PS sorry my pictures just don't seem to want to line up right.........

Thank you for the Lovely Blog Award -----

I recently received word that I had been awarded the Lovely Blog Award from Betty's Boneyard Genealogy Blog and I am very honoured to accept it-. bettysgenealogyb­log.­blogspot.­com  It is really enjoyable reading other writer's blog and I am pleased to expand my reading material anytime.


The Rules for the award are as follows:

1. Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who granted the award and their blog link.
2. Pass the award on to 15 other genealogy blogs that you’ve newly discovered.
3. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them  know they have been chosen for this award.



So here are my 15 genealogy blogs I have chosen (and in no particular order)
1..Stories of My Ancestors
2..Forgotten Old Photos
3..Genealogy Canada
4..Heirlooms Reunite
5..Fur Trade Family History
6..Ian Haddens Family History
7..Roots and Stones
8..Hillmans of Elgin County
9..Photo Detectives
10.A Couple of Whiles
11.Black Sheep Meadows
12.Tackling Brick Walls One Brick at a Time
13. Transalvania Dutch
14, BeNotForgot
15AnceStories


I hope others will check out these blogs and enjoy them as I did.


Till Next Time................

Looking Back.....................

Is it old age, morbid curiosity or something else that makes us search for our past?  As a family historian I started out believing that it was important to know where you come from….mostly I think from the curiosity standpoint – especially when I grew up knowing that the “Lundy” name was somehow connected – even distantly with an important part of Canadian history.  As I learned more it became an obsession to find pictures, stories (not so successful on those two) and more distant relatives to be a part of the bigger picture.  But as I close in on my mid-60’s I find myself drawn back to my youth through social media like Facebook – especially on my high school alumni page (Thomson Alumni) and Yorkville Village in the '60's and I begin focussing in on ‘whatever happened to….”

I wonder if our ancestors did this in any way.  Of course they certainly didn’t have all the electronics we have and yet I think in some ways they stayed in touch much better than we did.  I have found letters sent to and from family members – imagine hand written letters – containing all sorts of information, not always joyful but ensuring they kept each other in the loop of their day to day activities and lives.  Hard to imagine I used to write long letters home to my parents and friends when I first moved to Alberta in ’78; I sent pictures regularly and even made tape recordings of my youngest son (who's now 37 years old) to send to his Grammie and Bompa.  Somehow along the years I got too busy and distant from all of that and lost touch with so many people and their lives.  I remember attending the marriage of my nephew a few years ago and during a slide show of his life and seeing pictures of him and his siblings growing up I cried my eyes out realizing how much I missed.  I wouldn’t necessarily trade my move to Alberta to have remained in Ontario but like so many other situations I think that if I had known then what I know now…………..

One of the advantages my ancestors had I suppose was that they seemed to have moved together en masse and often intermarried – sisters in one family marrying brothers in another which would certainly make it a little easier to keep track of people. And of course divorce wasn’t common if at all back in those days.  But it must have been even harder back then when one branch, or even worse a child decided not to move with the rest of the family.  Most of my family moved to Canada at the time of the American Revolutions and settled throughout Ontario.  But there were some who remained behind…some had already married and moved on to another State or remained and actually fought in the wars, something most of my Loyalist relatives disliked.  Did they stay in touch by mail – history suggests they did and it seemed they did travel back and forth between the countries with some ease although the trek would be obviously arduous.  They often all attended the same school from beginning to end as well in each community and remained in that same community for life…..but there were always those ‘black sheep” or ‘wandering souls’ like myself who ventured forth looking for something different or to start over.  Did they lose track of their past too..

I know my great Uncle Charles Wright was an example of someone who left the family home at a young age in Manitoba – he was originally from Newmarket Ontario – and ended up playing hockey in Edmonton.  The family lore is that he had had a falling out with his dad Daniel Smith Wright but would unexplainably turn up when the family was in crisis for years after – but then he disappeared and his mom apparently spent years and years searching for him without success.  Oddly I have found out he married another distant cousin from the Luesby clan from Newmarket and lived for a time in London England and possibly in California….but I don’t think anyone in  his family ever knew.

Maybe its stories like that that make connecting to our past so important to me and I’m sure I share those same feelings with so many others.  With all the advantages we have with the internet and social media like Facebook it seems like it should be so easy but its not.  I have spent the last 24 hours pouring over my old year books from David and Mary Thomson Collegiate in Scarborough and then downloading pictures to put up on their site. The names and faces of those youthful fellow students now swirl around on the internet for all to see and remember….but like searching out family history it only gives us a small drop of information and leaves us wanting so much more.  

The world – although much smaller in some ways through the internet and such has also grown much bigger in the sense of our travels away from our original  homes and the personal interactions of long hand written letters and visits.  My classmates from Thomson now live world wide – have probably married, had children, divorced, had many jobs and moved numerous times…..and not necessarily in that order.  I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity of connecting with some of them again….and with so many of my distant relatives on the ‘net as well……just wish there was some way of making these connections more personal and meaningful….maybe I am  just getting old…but I miss the ‘olden days’.

Till Next time……………………