I have enjoyed reading the notes from all of you that were your recollections of my mother and realized you didn’t have any recollections of your grandfather, my dad. Realizing you never had the chance to know him as a young man, I thought I would share my memories. Here it goes:
He was born in Scotland, the second eldest son of a well-off big family. He was apprenticed very early on one of his father’s fishing schooners and worked his way up to captain (skipper) and by age 18 had his own fishing schooner. He learned maritime law at the University of Aberdeen. He rapidly became the best skipper out of Aberdeen, bringing in the largest catches. Our grandfather wrote that he was too reckless, fishing in waters that were considered to be too dangerous for fishing.
When World War I came along, his ship became one of two ships that preceded the troop ships leaving the harbor destined for the war. His and his sister ship pulled a heavy chain between them to cut the planted mines off below the explosive head which then floated to the top and were picked up before the troop ship could be blown up. This was very hazardous, leading to the loss of one sister ship and severe damage of another. He also dove overboard and saved the life of a man who had fallen overboard from a sister ship.
He met a beautiful young lady (his words), Jeannie Duncan Mair, at a church meeting and married her. They both loved to sing, and that was one of my early memories of them. There also were several young nieces from mom’s half sister’s family, standing about our living room, singing in front of our old pump organ, my oldest brothers Andrew and Bill pumping which was hard work.
In the winters, because we had only one sled, we all went out sliding down the big hill in back of our house in saved grocery boxes with waxed bottoms. The great depression was on, but my inventive mom and my steadfast dad never dwelled on what we lacked. Every one we knew was in the same situation. Shoes and clothing were handed down from the biggest to the littlest. My older sister never had a feminine pair of shoes because her shoes had to go to Andrew and down the line until there were no soles left. We lived in Boston and Canton Center for a time, but I don’t remember that. My memory starts in Canton, in our house with eight acres of land bordering on an old Indian cemetery. The house was built with the help of several neighbors, mostly my mother’s half sister’s husband and family and all of us that could hold a hammer. Sunday nights were filled with singing with laughter and joy. My mom was the center with no mention of unhappiness, despite the fact that we had so little of everything, food, clothes, etc. After all, all were in the same boat, and there was a lot of sharing among neighbors:
rhubarb from Mrs. Schutt, eggs from our neighbors that raised chickens, fish from my dad who was teaching at the Boston fish pier, etc.
Enough for today, and if I haven’t bored you to death, I might try writing again about my siblings. Peggy.
From Peggy (Margaret) Linss on May 2, 2011:
ReplyDeleteI have enjoyed reading the notes from all of you that were your recollections of my mother and realized you didn’t have any recollections of your grandfather, my dad. Realizing you never had the chance to know him as a young man, I thought I would share my memories. Here it goes:
He was born in Scotland, the second eldest son of a well-off big family. He was apprenticed very early on one of his father’s fishing schooners and worked his way up to captain (skipper) and by age 18 had his own fishing schooner. He learned maritime law at the University of Aberdeen. He rapidly became the best skipper out of Aberdeen, bringing in the largest catches. Our grandfather wrote that he was too reckless, fishing in waters that were considered to be too dangerous for fishing.
When World War I came along, his ship became one of two ships that preceded the troop ships leaving the harbor destined for the war. His and his sister ship pulled a heavy chain between them to cut the planted mines off below the explosive head which then floated to the top and were picked up before the troop ship could be blown up. This was very hazardous, leading to the loss of one sister ship and severe damage of another. He also dove overboard and saved the life of a man who had fallen overboard from a sister ship.
He met a beautiful young lady (his words), Jeannie Duncan Mair, at a church meeting and married her. They both loved to sing, and that was one of my early memories of them. There also were several young nieces from mom’s half sister’s family, standing about our living room, singing in front of our old pump organ, my oldest brothers Andrew and Bill pumping which was hard work.
In the winters, because we had only one sled, we all went out sliding down the big hill in back of our house in saved grocery boxes with waxed bottoms. The great depression was on, but my inventive mom and my steadfast dad never dwelled on what we lacked. Every one we knew was in the same situation. Shoes and clothing were handed down from the biggest to the littlest. My older sister never had a feminine pair of shoes because her shoes had to go to Andrew and down the line until there were no soles left. We lived in Boston and Canton Center for a time, but I don’t remember that. My memory starts in Canton, in our house with eight acres of land bordering on an old Indian cemetery. The house was built with the help of several neighbors, mostly my mother’s half sister’s husband and family and all of us that could hold a hammer. Sunday nights were filled with singing with laughter and joy. My mom was the center with no mention of unhappiness, despite the fact that we had so little of everything, food, clothes, etc. After all, all were in the same boat, and there was a lot of sharing among neighbors:
rhubarb from Mrs. Schutt, eggs from our neighbors that raised chickens, fish from my dad who was teaching at the Boston fish pier, etc.
Enough for today, and if I haven’t bored you to death, I might try writing again about my siblings. Peggy.