I have a passion for family health history and geneaology, AncestryDNA, and family trees, especially how my health and wellness relates to my family health history. I only knew my mother’s parents. We called them Grandad and Grandma…I’m English. I never knew my father’s parents…my Dad’s father was probably one of the last people in England to die of turbuculosis or TB. He died the morning my dad started a new school. My dad was 11 and about to start his 1st Year of high school, now called Year 6 (or 6th grade in America). 6th Grade is a pivotal year for a child and I cannot imagine losing a parent on top of everything else. Apparently, he was not told that his father had died and was sent to school. He missed the next two days for the funeral.
Breast Cancer and More
My dad lost his mother from breast cancer. It was the early 1960s and he was in his mid-20s. I have heard conflicting stories on her breast cancer…either she had breast cancer or she had a massive chest infection that led to a wound that never fully healed. In any event, her condition was life-ending.
My Grandad died when I had just turned 9 from a Cerebrovascular Accident. We were living in England when he died. I had started 4th grade in New Jersey, but transferred schools mid-year when we moved back to England. I did a lot of that…moving schools mid-year…transferred schools in Kindergarten, 4th grade, 5th grade, 6th grade, and 10th grade…7 schools…3 countries.
I knew my Grandad a little…we lived with my grandparents and had gone on a typical British vacation to Newquay in the south of England with them. But I didn’t “know” him. I heard later that he was an alcoholic, heavy smoker, always out of the house mostly at the pub. His career was on the railways…a conductor. His job was considered so essential that during World War II he was not drafted and instead stayed behind to work on British Railways, sell insurance, be an air raid warden, and sell insurance at the pub.
Surviving Childhood Trauma
So, really I only had one grandparent growing up who was a constant…my Grandma. My grandmother was an amazing person, but a troubled soul. She had an absolutely awful childhood…she was born in to an “Oliver Twist”-like workhouse in the 1910s in England…her mother had been destitute and pregnant. My Grandma left the workhouse with her mother at the age of 1. Her mother — my great-grandmother — soon remarried for probably financial security. Two children followed, but there didn’t seem to be space for my grandmother. Though, she had a good relationship with her stepfather and half siblings, she had a tenuous relationship at best with her mother. Maybe that’s why she ran away from home to join a dance troupe. I think technically her mother allowed her to join the “Pink and Black Juveniles” dance troupe.
My Grandma left her British middle/high school probably at 14/15 without much of a family structure. She married my Grandad and his family “adopted” her. She finally had the family she needed. I don’t think she ever spoke to her bio family again. There’s a story that her half brother was sent weekly to the bus depot to pick up the child support or maintenance from her dad. Her dad was “Tommy Mack,” a red-haired bus cleaner…maybe. I have tried but not found evidence that he is her father. He’s not on her birth certificate. I think he was Tommy Mc-something, with Tommy Mack being only a nickname. A few years after I did my Ancestry DNA, I was contacted by a woman who was the daughter or granddaughter of the Tommy Mack on my Ancestry family tree. She had no knowledge of my Grandma’s existence. In fact, she was very concerned because if my Grandma was related to her Thomas Mack that that would mean he had a child out of wedlock. For my part, I realized that my family tree evidence connecting Thomas Mack to my Grandma was vague and really based on hearsay. Anyway…at her urging I removed Thomas Mack from my family tree.
British-isms
My Grandma had a lot of sayings. She said “Ne’er cast a clout til May is out.” In other words, don’t take off your coat or leave the house without a coat until the end of May. This was northern England in the 1970s so we often wore lightweight coats in June, July, and sometimes August to survive the bleak, cold English summer weather. My Grandma, who lived in a council semi-detached house in Chorlton-cum-Hardy, in Manchester, England, would stand in her backyard on a cloudy day (in the 1970s) and say “It’s a bit dark over our Nellie’s.” She wouldn’t put her wet clothes/sheets/towels on the washing line. Instead she hung the wet stuff from the “maiden washing rack” that hung from the kitchen ceiling. For YEARS, I thought Nellie was her neighbor! My English Grandma would look at someone and says “She’s mutton dressed as lamb.” The person would be wearing something too fancy or trying too hard to look stylish.
Though she had ongoing bouts with depression, I have fond memories of her taking me to the seaside and riding a carousel, making endless cups of tea, and cooking traditional English roast dinners. She was always game for anything…she played cricket with my sister and I on the beach, she flew to America to visit when my family lived in New Jersey even though she hated flying, and she welcomed my family in to her tiny home when we returned to England to live once at 9 and later when I was 11. My Grandma died too young when I was 15 of complications from breast cancer.
New Generation of Grandparents
My kids are having a totally different experience with their grandparents than I had. Until last December, they still had 4 grandparents. My MIL passed away after a very long illness, but she always made an effort to be cheerful and positive with my 3 children, her only grandchildren.
My children had 4 grandparents…they now have only 3. My parents are Grandad and Grandma. My husband’s parents are/were Pappaw and Mammaw. As for my parents, they moved to the U.S. from England in the mid-1980s and live only 30 minutes from me. A seminal moment in my mom journey and hopefully my children’s childhood was the trip we took to England in 2009. For us, going to England was a trip of a lifetime…4 days in London, 3 days in Manchester, and 1 day in Stratford.
Disclosure: I was not compensated to write this post. The views expressed are my own.
