Just lately I have been thinking a lot about my grandparents’ farm. A few times, I have been and sat at the lane end, in the dark, remembering. It occurred to me, as I began to write down more memories that I had never really looked very closely at my step grandfather. My mother’s real father died of a brain tumour when she was 15 months old. My grandmother then went with my mother to be a live in housekeeper at a farm that was nearby. She ended up marrying the farmer who was a bachelor and 20 years older than her.

I remember him as a very taciturn man, and I was slightly afraid of him. I don’t know why because he was always simply quiet and never at all threatening. I think his quietness scared me a little bit.

I knew very little about his background however. I knew certain things but not the full picture. However since beginning to think a little more about him I have done some research and discovered that his own father died when he was a baby. I am sure that this made him very sympathetic to my grandmother’s position. In fact, he wanted to give my mother his name so that she did not have a different name to her brothers and sisters. My grandmother however refused his offer as she wanted the name of her first husband still to be alive. He was her first love and she cried for him for many years after his death, even whilst she was married to her new husband.

My step grandfather used to be a silversmith, but for some reason decided to emigrate to Canada where he went logging. Last night I was thrilled to discover that he actually went to Canada in 1901 one on the liner the Tunisia. I found the exact date of his leaving Liverpool and the exact date almost 1 month later in Montréal in Québec.

I was intrigued and wanted to know what kind of life these immigrants had in Canada upon their arrival there.

I discovered that upon disembarking from the ship they had to stand in what was described as “a very long line of humanity.” They had to have medical checks before anything else happened.

Eventually it seems, he would have gone to a logging camp. He would have been either in a tent or in some wooden structure where they all slept. I don’t know if anyone who reads my blog from Canada can tell me any more about any of this. All I know is that he was logging for a while, but then he bought a ranch in Argentina where he raised beef cattle. 14 years after leaving England he returned, and bought the farm where my mother grew up.

I discovered a few more fascinating facts but I was particularly interested in him emigrating to Canada and I would love to be able to find out more about that and what life was really like for the loggers.

My mother’s story is in many ways are very sad one although it cannot ever account for her treatment of me.

It is surprising what we find out about our ancestors and our pasts if we start to look back. I must admit that last night I felt really thrilled to find out about my step grandfather.

10 thoughts on “DIARY ENTRY

  1. Being a “family detective” is exciting! You never know what you’ll find! I can’t imagine going from England to Canada and then to Argentina and back – he must have been a very brave and confident man!


  2. Not too bad thanks, with exception of last night and night before, where I have been waking up every 2 hours. So my disruptive sleep has caught up with me today.

    Slowly making my home more my home. But its taking time.

    Liked by 1 person

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