I've Never Met a Checketts I Wasn't Related To
November 1, 2019
Who doesn't love November? In Arizona, it is the true beginning of non-summer days, non-brutally- hot days, non-hot nights, turning off the air conditioner and actually being able to wear a sweater or even a jacket.
Here in Oxford, November first dawned gray and cool....beautiful. We walked outside to find everything hushed and deserted in our little apartment complex. Many cars were gone, and there were no workmen, no pedestrians and no noises coming from flats.
We climbed in the car and set out for parts unknown. We were in search of Pamela Brogan, a long-lost, possible distant cousin. It was an official assignment from the mission president. Pamela wrote to him over six months ago, telling him that she has done much work on the Checketts line (her maternal grandmother was a Checketts). She wanted to share what she had with him, and possibly establish a relationship.
He had not responded to her, just not wanting to take on a single thing more. I emailed her, telling her who I was and asking if she and I could compare notes. She responded almost immediately, sharing a little information about herself. She has very bad hips and is unable to walk or travel very far. She is eager to share.
The little village where she lives was about an hour away, and it was an enchanting drive. I took far too many pictures, but just thought everywhere we went was a photo! We spent a couple of hours with her and she was concerned about feeding us. Standing up, walking and sitting down were all very painful for her. We concluded that we ought to go have lunch at a nearby pub, "The Hungry Horse."
It too was charming. We sat at an old wooden table by a window looking out over a small pond and verdant fields. Everything in this little village looked like it was one step away from being entirely overgrown with vegetation, yet it complimented the whole landscape in the most lovely of ways.
Before we said good-bye, we snapped a lot of pictures of her research, specifically her family group sheets from the Checketts side of her family. She was eager that we give ourselves an assignment to accomplish before we meet again. I suggested that I study her group sheets and find out where our lines meet up (I think somewhere in the 1600s).
She was a wonderful example of a Brit. Her skin was naturally colorful, with her cheeks flushing regularly as she got passionate about her research. Her hair also had that natural windblown look that is quite charming here. She wore a wool sweater and light jeans and ankle high boots. She spoke with a proper British accent and was open and frank.
At one point she asked me if I had read about something on the news. We were sitting across the table from each other. She studied me carefully as I shrugged apologetically. (Even though the mission president has encouraged the senior missionaries to watch the evening news, we seldom do and with all that has been going on, I have been quite out of touch with what is happening in the world.) She said simply, "You're not keeping up are you." With that accent, those blue eyes and that statement/question, she had me. Yet, I didn't feel that she was disapproving - only stating the facts.
I was drawn to her from the beginning.
She is 83 years old, born before WWII got underway in England. It was interesting to hear her talk about Americans. With grudging admiration, yet a just a bit of disgust...."Those Americans!"
We talked for several hours including lunch and we both enjoyed her immensely. Before computers were so ever present in our lives, she must have invested hours, days, weeks researching family lines. She has visited other towns, other city halls and libraries. She had binders and boxes full of well-ordered research. We could not find a common ancestor, even though the two Checketts families lived within 20 miles of each other for centuries.
I am pretty sure that I can find the link.
I was sorry to say good-bye and am sincerely hoping that we can get back to see her a few times before we leave. She is on a 30-week wait list for a hip replacement. I hope that it doesn't take that long.
She laughed and cried as she told us about her father, who she didn't even meet until she was an adult with five children of her own. She described how he looked to her when she went to the door and how he acted....kind of silly. Then she laughed and told us how she realized that she was very much like him in so many ways...the way her skin flushed, the way she giggles when she is nervous, the way she is able to be calm in troubled times.
She told us stories of her grandparents that have been meaningful to her. I hope that one day, when I am gone, my descendants will remember good things about me, and lay claim perhaps to positive character traits they saw in me.
For now, I will lay claim to a relationship with a sweet 83-year old woman in a little village north of us who is proud of her Checketts heritage.
Who doesn't love November? In Arizona, it is the true beginning of non-summer days, non-brutally- hot days, non-hot nights, turning off the air conditioner and actually being able to wear a sweater or even a jacket.
Here in Oxford, November first dawned gray and cool....beautiful. We walked outside to find everything hushed and deserted in our little apartment complex. Many cars were gone, and there were no workmen, no pedestrians and no noises coming from flats.
We climbed in the car and set out for parts unknown. We were in search of Pamela Brogan, a long-lost, possible distant cousin. It was an official assignment from the mission president. Pamela wrote to him over six months ago, telling him that she has done much work on the Checketts line (her maternal grandmother was a Checketts). She wanted to share what she had with him, and possibly establish a relationship.
He had not responded to her, just not wanting to take on a single thing more. I emailed her, telling her who I was and asking if she and I could compare notes. She responded almost immediately, sharing a little information about herself. She has very bad hips and is unable to walk or travel very far. She is eager to share.
It too was charming. We sat at an old wooden table by a window looking out over a small pond and verdant fields. Everything in this little village looked like it was one step away from being entirely overgrown with vegetation, yet it complimented the whole landscape in the most lovely of ways.
 |
| "You have to have malt vinegar with your chips!" |
Before we said good-bye, we snapped a lot of pictures of her research, specifically her family group sheets from the Checketts side of her family. She was eager that we give ourselves an assignment to accomplish before we meet again. I suggested that I study her group sheets and find out where our lines meet up (I think somewhere in the 1600s).
She was a wonderful example of a Brit. Her skin was naturally colorful, with her cheeks flushing regularly as she got passionate about her research. Her hair also had that natural windblown look that is quite charming here. She wore a wool sweater and light jeans and ankle high boots. She spoke with a proper British accent and was open and frank.
At one point she asked me if I had read about something on the news. We were sitting across the table from each other. She studied me carefully as I shrugged apologetically. (Even though the mission president has encouraged the senior missionaries to watch the evening news, we seldom do and with all that has been going on, I have been quite out of touch with what is happening in the world.) She said simply, "You're not keeping up are you." With that accent, those blue eyes and that statement/question, she had me. Yet, I didn't feel that she was disapproving - only stating the facts.
I was drawn to her from the beginning.
She is 83 years old, born before WWII got underway in England. It was interesting to hear her talk about Americans. With grudging admiration, yet a just a bit of disgust...."Those Americans!"
We talked for several hours including lunch and we both enjoyed her immensely. Before computers were so ever present in our lives, she must have invested hours, days, weeks researching family lines. She has visited other towns, other city halls and libraries. She had binders and boxes full of well-ordered research. We could not find a common ancestor, even though the two Checketts families lived within 20 miles of each other for centuries.
I am pretty sure that I can find the link.
I was sorry to say good-bye and am sincerely hoping that we can get back to see her a few times before we leave. She is on a 30-week wait list for a hip replacement. I hope that it doesn't take that long.
She laughed and cried as she told us about her father, who she didn't even meet until she was an adult with five children of her own. She described how he looked to her when she went to the door and how he acted....kind of silly. Then she laughed and told us how she realized that she was very much like him in so many ways...the way her skin flushed, the way she giggles when she is nervous, the way she is able to be calm in troubled times.
She told us stories of her grandparents that have been meaningful to her. I hope that one day, when I am gone, my descendants will remember good things about me, and lay claim perhaps to positive character traits they saw in me.
For now, I will lay claim to a relationship with a sweet 83-year old woman in a little village north of us who is proud of her Checketts heritage.
 |
| She snapped a picture of us too! |
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