Family

Dear Uncle Ted,

   I was about 15 years old by then and didn’t quite understand what was going on.  The people in charge of the hostel found a job for me and, besides that, worked many hours in the hostel, making beds, dishes, scrubbing floors, etc.  Until this day I cannot recall money or pay cheques from where I worked.  They bought clothes for me and gave me lots to eat and a bed to sleep in.

   One day just before I was 17 the man in charge of the hostel asked me to come into his office.  He explained to me that England was in great poverty and the government was implementing a plan to immigrate young boys to Canada. Would I be interested?  He explained it would be farm work and that I would be bound to the scheme or plan for three years, and then I would be on my own.

   I didn’t seem to have any ties at this time; I was many miles from the young friends I grew up with, so I agreed.

   When a young boy of 16 years is suddenly without those who loved him and cared for him and doesn’t understand just what is going on, it wasn’t too hard to make up my mind and say, “Yes.”  It wasn’t until I was almost 17, the middle of March of 1932, that 22 of us boys met in Liverpool and set sail on the “Montcalm” for Canada.

   I think it took about nine days before we landed in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.  At first we were all together in one big house; and after a few days, one by one all were gone as the different farmers came and signed for the boys to begin their three-year period.  I do not know about the other boys; but about myself, I can say I worked hard and very long hours with very little pay.  From 1932 until 1939 when the Second World War broke out, things were very rough.

   Canada opened up the factories for war work, and I moved off the farm and got myself a job in one of the factories.  The hours and certainly the pay were better , and it was not long that I made up my mind to save my money so that I could have a bank account.  I settled at first in a town called Brantford, where I got acquainted with an organization called Youth For Christ.  I gave my heart and life to Christ; and the moment I did this, my life began to change for the better.  In the year of 1946, I met a young lady; her name was Ruth. She had also given her heart and life to the Lord and was “born again,” and I went with her and stayed in Brantford until 1949.  At this point of my life, I felt the need for more spiritual education; so I quit my good job in Brantford and went to a Bible school for one year in London, Ontario.

   In August of 1950, Ruth and I were married, and still are; we have had 37 wonderful years not only together but also with the Lord.  We raised three boys and one girl, and I might add the girl of our dreams married Alex, the young man who visited you.

   In 1961 I took a job in the U.S.A. but still lived in Canada, our home located almost at the foot of the bridge that connects Windsor, Canada, to Detroit, U.S.A.

   God has been so good to us during our marriage in raising our children, buying our home that is paid for now, and keeping me in my job for 19 years.  You may know the firm for which I worked: “British Leyland.”

   I am retired now (since 1980) and enjoying every minute of it, and I thank God each day for allowing me to live in such a great country in which to retire.  Well, this should bring us up to date; so with this I close, and may God bless you.

Your nephew   George       

God Cares

Unexpected Joy

Dad (My father-in-law was like a dad.)

From one moment to another, what do you do when you feel abandoned? Can you see the future from the past or the past from the present? This is a story that goes in both directions sometimes at the same time. Created for a purpose is not just a catchy phrase; it is a determining factor in your life and others. Some people find that they have a future ahead of them and nothing to hold them to the past.

Considering oneself alone like an orphan, one is likely to take the advice of those who they believe have insight. This is where my father-in-law started his journey. Part of the story will be told in his own words in the following paragraphs along with genealogy and pictures.

Voyage to Canada

I stood trembling with my arm raised and hand curled ready to knock on the door to the president’s office of the “Diososan House” for boys in Portsmouth, England. Oh yes, I had been residing here about a year, ever since the passing of my grandmother and the leaving of my birth place “Fareham.” I stared at the brass plate on the door bearing the name “J. S Fowler.” I could not help wondering what he wanted me for. What had I done wrong?  Was he going to ask me to move or send me to different lodgings?

The brass plate faded and blurred until it disappeared, and my thoughts backed up to my days lived with my grandmother. Oh, how I missed her! Her love, the things she did for me. I could see her knitting socks for me while she played dominoes with my grandfather. His love for me was different from grandma’s. He made shoes for me and kept them in repair.

 I recalled the first bicycle I ever owned. It had rubber tires that would stretch and had to be shortened once in a while. I missed them both so much. I asked myself as the brass plate came into focus again, “Is this what it means to be an Orphan?”

I knocked; and Mr. Fowler answered, “Come in.” I reached out, turned the door knob, pushed open the door, and entered into the office where Mr. Fowler sat behind a huge desk. I was 16 at the time, and the loss of my grandmother had left its scars; and constantly day and night, I would be thinking of her, needing her. I was so lonely.

“Come in, George!” he said as he stood up and held out his hand for me to shake, sat down, and motioned to a chair. As I sat in the chair, the butterflies left my stomach; I had stopped shaking all over, and I knew right then it wasn’t any of those things that I had been thinking.

The year was 1932; and Mr. Fowler began to explain about the country’s poverty since the 1914 war, the high percentage of people out of work, and how difficult it was going to be for the younger generation, of which I was one. He then went on to say that the British and Canadian Governments had an “Immigration” plan for boys between the ages 14 to 18 years.

 After the specified time for thought, I agreed to be part of the plan; and on March, 1932, at Liverpool, I found myself on the “H.M.S. Montcalm” that was leaving in about two hours, for Canada. After about ten days sailing including two days of very stormy weather, we docked at Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.

There were 22 boys in this crossing; and after going through customs, our man in charge was met by a small group of men and, in just a few moments, were in cars heading for the railway station. This ride on the train I shall never forget. 1 do not know the miles we traveled, but I do know that the train did not stop except for water and fuel for three days and two nights.

Some of us slept in bunks while others on the seats before reaching our destination. I do not remember the name of the town of our final stop, but I do remember a sign flashing by us on the train: “Barry.” Once off the train and baggage accounted for, we were once more put into cars and were driven to a large farm house that looked like a hotel. The 22 of us were assigned bedrooms, four and six to a room, and told to be up, washed, and dressed for six o’clock breakfast the following morning.

After breakfast we waited in the main room with our belongings. It wasn’t long before the farmers came at different intervals and, after signing some documents, were introduced to their newly hired boys; and away they would go. Three years was expected of us before we were free. Those first few years before I struck out on my own were hard and lonely yet instructive. It was up at 4:30 or 5:00 AM, work until the sun went down, crawl into bed, cry a little, cry a lot, fall asleep until morning, and then up and at it again for another day. There were no holidays on the farm, no three weeks’ vacation, no time and a half for overtime, no sick pay; just work, work, work.

My release from the government’s plan ended while I was on a farm in a small place called Staff, which is about forty miles southwest of the city of Stratford, Ontario. I stayed in this area working on different farms until 1940. Farmers at this time were still feeling the string of the “Depression,” and I began to feel that there must be a better way of life than this.

In the winter of 1939, I worked for $2 each month, which included my food, lodging, and work clothing if needed. I left that farm at the beginning of 1940 and tried working on different farms for $1 per day. This did not seem to be what I wanted; so in the fall of 1940, I said “good-bye” to the farms and moved to Stratford. There was war work in the cities, so it wasn’t too hard to find work. I stayed in Stratford until 1942.

Higher wages paid in Brantford made great enticement; so it wasn’t too long before I found myself moving and working for Massey Harris, now “Massey Ferguson.” Moving to Brantford was the best move I ever made. My eyes were opened to many different things, new concepts, a new mode of living, and a people who shared their love with me. This mode of living soon found me hungering for things of God, so a small wonder found me in a “Youth for Christ” meeting where I gave my heart and life to Christ. Now my life began to change even better than it was. Soon after my conversion, I met Ruth; and we started a wonderful relationship. This was March 29, 1947. The fall of 1948, after feeling the need for spiritual growth, I registered with “London Bible Institute” for one year.

At the end of the semester, Ruth and I talked seriously about marriage; and on August I9, 1950, we were married in Brantford. We settled in Windsor and raised four children of whom one was a girl; we named her Sharon. My family was brought up to love the things of God, so it was no surprise that Sharon at the age of 22 married Alex, a Christian young man from our church. It was through this young man that the following events started.

ENGLAND TRIP

I believe the spawning of this trip started in 1984, late in the year, upon the return from England of Alex Harper, my son-in-law, where by Divine guidance he discovered a brother of my dad, who I know now as Uncle Ted. Up to this point, I had no idea that any relative of mine would still be alive, let alone cousins and their husbands and children.

You see, it all began when I learned that Alex and his mother were going to London, England to visit their in-laws, I asked Alex if he would mind going down about seventy miles to my birth place to see if my house was still there and if so take some pictures. I also asked him, upon finding the house, if he would he go back behind the house and take some pictures of the garden. The reason for the pictures of the garden was to bring back proof of the authentic length of such. Alex tried but was asked to leave by one of the owners, who, without knowing of Divine guidance, told him he could take pictures of gardens at “Trinity Gardens” and guided him so. While taking pictures as instructed around the vicinity of where my father’s parents lived, he was surprised by two ladies, Maud and Mabel. After introductions were given, Alex was given much information and history of Trinity Gardens. Part of the information given was that these two ladies were my playmates while I was growing up. They were astonished that I was still alive after being abandoned at 14 years old at my grandmother’s death, the one who raised me. Through part of the information given by Maud and Mabel, Alex was guided to Gordon Street, where Alex located Uncle Ted.

The ringing of the phone woke both my wife and me. Turning on the light, half asleep, I picked up the phone and was asked if I would receive a long distance call from the United Kingdom, to which I replied “Yes.” It was Alex on the other end, informing me of finding my uncle and asking if I wanted to talk to him. I was still half asleep and numb with astonishment; and I heard myself saying, “Yes.” We began writing after that, and at Christmas we sent him a Christmas present by snail mail.

In one of his letters to us, he said that he had located one of my mother’s brothers (Charlie) and had given him my address. Well, he did write to me and could not get over the fact that I was living. As he said in his letters, the last he remembered was my standing at the white gate outside 67 Gordon Road my home after my grandmother’s (his mother’s) funeral. Then in the same letter he informed me that he had just finished talking to my mother on the phone from London.

I read that paragraph again and again, and my eyes became moist; a lump developed in my throat, and I became stunned with emotion. This news was even more astonishing than finding an uncle whom I did not know. Why? Well, my Dad was killed in the War, 1914; and I knew nothing of my mother except that she was either in or somehow connected with the army. Her mother raised me until she died in 1929, and when no one offered to take me in, Mrs. Martin, living across the road with a two-year-old adopted daughter, took me in until finally I was registered with a Boys Home called “The Diososan House.” Portsmouth, England.

The next day after receiving Uncle Charlie’s letter, we put a call through to his house and were fortunate to get him before he retired. He was surprised, yet thankful, for the call; and after a few minutes of talk about himself, he gave some information about my mother’s health, etc, and gave me her address in London.

I sent a letter first but was a little disappointed with the return letter as it had to be written by her close friend. Her age of 93, 94 in about one month, had not been kind to her eyes; but even though someone else wrote the letter, the thoughts were hers. Well, we did not stop there but sent flowers to the home to her on Mother’s Day; and our children all sent cards.

Correspondence was kept up by letters with Uncle Ted and Uncle Charlie, and photographs were exchanged. The joy and excitement that was expressed in some of their letters, because of my now existence, was unbelievable. The excitement was not all on one side. We were very excited, too; and as the excitement grew, Ruth and I began to pray for God’s guidance that, if it was His will for us to fulfill the desire in our hearts to go to England, then He would have to make the impossible very possible. We began to implement plans, calling about flights; looking at baggage, etc; and praying that, if we were wrong, then God would shut the door.

Well, God did not shut the door; and after buying tickets and setting a date, we called Uncle Ted’s daughter Gillian to let them know that we were coming, how and where we would land, and at what time. We were flying from Toronto to England with Worldways with tickets purchased and time set for 7 P.M., May 16, 1985. Windsor to Toronto tickets were then purchased with Air Canada for May 16 at 3:50 P.N. which would give us just enough time to arrive at Toronto, transfer our luggage, get a bite to eat, and make our connection to Worldways. Worldways changed their time and day of departure, so the company put us up at their expense at the finest hotel near the airport.

Finally at 9 P.M. May 17, we left the ground, rose to 35,000 feet, and were on our way. We were traveling east; and about 5 A.M., Ruth motioned for me to look out the window. I saw a very thin ribbon of light stretched across the sky. As it grew wider and brighter, we realized we were watching for the first time “Sunrise.” About 30 minutes later, the sun was so bright one could not look out the window any longer. We had to pull the blind.

While we were on the plane and in between food, we made two small signs about “12 x 4” and put “Ruth” on one and “George” on the other, getting ready to meet someone at the airport whom we had never met and vice versa. Well, after going through British customs, we began to push the cart with our baggage on it, boldly holding up the cards with our names on them and also looking from right to left hoping that Gillian and Cliff (her husband) would see us. At first I thought that it was stupid to hold up cards in the middle of an airport where thousands of people were; and I told myself this is not going to work, but it did. Out from nowhere came my cousin Gillian and her husband; and for the next few minutes, we hugged and held one another.

Now it must be remembered that this couple had never seen us before in their lives, nor we them. Yet God put a love in all our hearts that all qualms or fears of getting along vanished in minutes. We chatted, all four of us, as they guided us through the airport to where their car was parked. Still talking, we took the luggage off the cart and put it into the back of his hatchback. We had been traveling for about forty minutes when I asked Cliff how he knew when to slow down, stop, etc., in traffic and on the motorways when I did not see any “STOP” or “YIELD” signs. Cliff exclaimed that there were no “STOP” signs and proceeded to explain their “Round-about” system.

It was about seventy miles from Gatwick Airport to Fareham, so it was past noon when we got right into the heart of town. My first recognition was the Railway Station. It had not changed; and as we turned up a one-way street, I recognized the large “Trinity Church” where I was paid to sing in the choir when I was about eight or nine years old. This was not the church to which the Clark family belonged.

The short drive up Trinity Street was actually the beginning of my being amazed, bewildered, and thoroughly getting a feeling of exuberance at the familiarity of buildings, houses and stores that were in existence when I was a young boy some sixty years ago. We turned onto Gordon Road, and Cliff slowed down as he knew that this road would play an important part in my memory; for it was at No. 67 that I was born and, unfortunately, was unintentionally abandoned at the age of 14 years.

Very slowly now as we continued up Gordon Road and I was almost being overcome with excitement, my gaze was glued to the left until I was actually looking at the house in which I was born. It was still there; it really was. We did not stop at this particular time but continued further up the road and stopped at 147. Gillian said to me, “This is where my Dad and your Uncle Ted lives. Go in through the gate. Ring the bell three times so he will know it is a friend, and we will wait here.”

I waited, which seemed like an hour but actually it was only two minutes at the very most, when I saw the outline of a man’s build behind the stained glass section of the door. The door opened, and there stood Uncle Ted (my Dad’s brother); and he smiled and held out his arms. I quickly went to him; and with tears in our eyes, we just stood there and hugged one another. After a few minutes, Gillian called us from the car and said that I should return to the car now as the plan was to continue to their home and her Dad would be coming later. Gillian and Cliff live about three miles from Fareham, so it did not take us long to get there. Gillian took us both upstairs to a very beautiful bedroom and told us this was ours for the length of our stay. We began to unpack; but when I bent down to open the second bag, I stared with utter disbelief at a bag that, even though it looked exactly like ours, was not ours. Oh my! Seventy miles from the airport with somebody’s bag other than ours, and where was ours?

At first I did not know what to do. At first I thought how embarrassing to have such a thing like this happen at such a time when we had just made acquaintance with my cousin and her husband Cliff. I went downstairs very sheepishly, very nervously, and wishing with all my heart that this incident had never happened. After reaching downstairs, I found Cliff; and with butterflies in my stomach, I explained to him what had happened and waited for his reaction. He paused for a moment, asked me a few questions, went to the phone, and dialed through to the airport. After being passed through two or three different departments, it was established that my bag was there and had gone through customs and that all we had to do was to come and pick it up and to return the other. Gillian had two sisters, June and Pauline, whom we met shortly after we arrived. After having a cup of tea, I finished unpacking; and Ruth laid down on the bed for a nap. After I finished unpacking, I went downstairs; and I met Michael, Gillian and Cliff’s son. When he found out about the flight bag, he volunteered to make the switch. But I said that it was 70 miles each way; and he answered, “Don’t worry about it. Glad to do it.” By this time Ruth was up, and Gillian put the kettle on. We ate some more, and watched some television; then all of us retired for the night.

SUNDAY, MAY 19

The next morning was Sunday, May 19; and we had planned to attend church, but jet lag had both of us. When we finally came downstairs, yawning and stretching, it was too late to go. We had our toast and coffee, and Gillian joined us. We then learned that it was her birthday and that, for the noon meal the whole family would be there.

It was closer to 2 P.M. before everything was ready; and when Gillian gave us the call for dinner, we came downstairs. It seemed at first glance the whole house was full of people. Then we went into the dining room; and there were two tables, one main table where the main course was spread out: beef, fish, chicken, and all kinds of vegetables. Then a table running sideways of the room was laden with the most scrumptious-looking desserts I had ever seen. We all sat down, and my heart rejoiced when I was asked to give thanks. After dinner and dessert, Ruth and I found out that Uncle Ted had been for 44 years before he retired a professional baker and he was responsible for 90 percent of the desserts. After dinner we became more acquainted with one another and took pictures.

Before we retired that night, Gillian asked me to make out two lists, one listing all the places and people I would like to see, and the second list listing the different foods and dishes I like! She also informed us that Cliff would be on vacation, so there would be no problem with transportation. Ruth and I thanked God that night for this.

MONDAY, MAY 20

We both got up and went downstairs for breakfast; and Gillian asked us if we would like to go and visit Uncle Charlie, who lived about fifteen miles away. Cliff said that we would leave about 10 A.M. or 10:30 A.M. and that we were going to stay and have dinner with him and that someone from there would see that we got home. Well, we had such a nice lunch; and after lunch we went into the living room and looked at albums full of pictures of which some had memories dear to my heart. But would you believe it, there was not one picture in all the albums of my mother. From the age of comprehension until the day that I visited Uncle Charlie, I had never seen a photograph of my mother; so I was a little disappointed after going through the albums. When Charlie sensed my disappointment and learned for the first time the reason for my disappointment, he said he had a box of old photographs and he would try and locate it and go through it. He did and found only one taken at the Rest Home in London at my mother’s age of 93, where she is to this day. Around 3 P.M. Mavis, Charlie’s niece, came home; and we continued our visit as she took over watching the meat that Charlie put in the oven for the dinner. My grandmother on my mother’s side had five children: William George, Edith Jane (my mother), Ethel May, Hilda Rose, and Charles Edwin. Mavis was the daughter of Ethel May. One thing I learned, at which I was astounded, was that Grandma Harper and Grandpa Harper were first cousins and did not have to change their surnames. Mavis drove us back to Gillian’s to end another wonderful day.

TUESDAY, MAY 21

We were invited to the home of Doris Brant’s home who lived on Gordon Road, No. 110, almost directly across from Uncle Ted. Who was Doris, and why are we going to visit her? Well, she was born and raised next door to my grandparents, the parents of my father, and was able to tell me something about my mother.

For instance, after my Dad was killed in the war, Mother remarried to a man named Douglas Bolton, moved into 13 Trinity Gardens (my Grandparents’ was 14), and had a child by him. They did not get along; and Doris said that, after a bitter disagreement, my mother walked out on him. Doris wasn’t sure what happened to the child.

In the morning of the 21st before we went to Doris Brant’s, Cliff and Gillian took us to a place called Beaulieu (pronounced BULEE). The 8,600 acres of land belongs to and has for four centuries the Montagus. Lord Montagu, one of the Barons, is still living today. In fact his flag was flying at full mast indicating he was at home the day that we were there. We were able to tour his castle, and everything about the inside structure and the furniture was fabulous.

Other points of interest were the Museum of vintage cars, trucks, and buses, very similar to the Ford Museum in Detroit, Michigan, U.S.A., except the models are different. We enjoyed a tour of the grounds in a double-decker bus and a monorail and also places to eat.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 22

Following the itinerary set by Gillian, Cliff and Gillian drove us to Uncle Ted’s about 10:30 A.M. where we had a cup of tea and scones. They returned home, and we were free after our tea to wander down Gordon Road where I was born, and view the familiar places known to me as a boy living with my mother’s parents. Cliff would pick us up when we wished to return. We walked down to 67, the house where I was born and knocked on the door, but no one was home. So we continued our walk downtown Fareham to some more familiar places. We returned back to Gordon Road and this time found the lady home. After telling and explaining our visit, she invited us in and allowed us to go through the house and out the back where I spent many hours as a boy and then back through the house again and onto the road. Time would not allow us to go too far on foot, but I enjoyed every minute that was left to take Ruth and guide her into the Sweet (candy) Store, pointed out Mrs. Martin’s house, and among other things showed her a tree that many of us boys would climb. If one could climb to the top on a clear day, it was possible to see Portsmouth. I fell from this tree one day and broke my arm.

After walking and seeing and becoming a little weary, we walked back to Uncle Ted’s where a phone call was put through to Cliff; and before long we were back at Gillian’s and another day came to a perfect end.

THURSDAY, MAY 23

This was the day for which we both had been looking, but especially me; for this was the day we planned to drive to the north part of London and, with God’s guidance and maps, find the home in which my mother was being looked after. It was not easy traveling though, especially if one is not familiar with the great city of London, even for Cliff who travels daily on his job. Cliff drove, so we tried to direct him from the maps, watching out for Cutaway 206 that would take us around London instead of going through it. However, we never used it on account we never did see a sign for 206. After getting lost several times, we realized with disgust that there were no signs showing north, south, east, or west. It took about one and a half hours to drive the 70 miles from Fareham to London and two hours to drive through the city. It was after lunch before we ventured to the area; and after taking instructions from Cliff and Gillian for us to take as long as we liked with our visit with my mother, Ruth and I walked up the path, took deep breaths to rid the butterflies, and rang the bell. The door opened, and a young lady in uniform smiled at us and asked us if she could help us. I took another deep breath and then told her who we were and why we were there and asked if it would be possible to have a visit with Mrs. Hulls (this being my mother’s name now). Her smile broadened; our butterflies left; and with a beckoning gesture, she ushered us first into the front hall and then into a bright and fairly large room just off of the hallway.

The young lady in uniform quickly went over to the bed where an elderly lady was sleeping, and we immediately wished that we had phoned before coming. I don’t think anyone enjoys being awakened from a sleep regardless if it be sound or a slumber. However, as the sleeper was aroused, lifting her up from the bed and moving her into a comfortable arm chair, the uniformed young lady was explaining to her that she had visitors and one of them was her son from Canada. After she was settled in the chair, we were told to make ourselves at home and tea would be along shortly. The scene and emotions that took place in the next two hours are almost impossible to put down in words; but, I will do the best I can. Keeping in mind that the 93-year-old lady sitting in the chair in front of me I had never seen in my whole life;, yet she was my mother. It must also be remembered that there was a good possibility that, other than my birth, she perhaps had not seen me either. We waited until she was settled. Then I took her hand in mine, looked full into her eyes, and said, “Mother, how are you?” Without waiting for an answer said, “I would like you to meet my wife Ruth.” She smiled and squeezed my hand and took Ruth’s hand; and at that moment, I knew the ice was broken, as the old saying goes. I tested her memory with a few questions regarding her family and my early days to see if I could find out what happened to me after my grandmother died. This, I am sorry to say, had been in the back of my mind for at least 56 years. Why was I left abandoned?

I believe she sensed what was behind some of my questions, for she told me how sorry she was that she had to depend on her mother to raise me. “You see,” she said, “when your Dad was killed in the beginning of the War of 1914 – 18, I was carrying you; and the War Widow’s Pension at that time was 5 pounds per month (about $25.00), which was not really enough.” She told us then that she stayed with her mother until I was born, and as soon as she was able, left home and found work so that she would be able to send money home.

I could not seem to get her to fill in the gap between my birth and her mother’s death, so I changed the subject a little bit and again asked her how she felt. She surprised us by telling us that her heart was excellent, blood pressure right on, and no pain whatsoever in her whole body. She told us that up until the last few months she would walk to the bus stop, take the bus downtown to the Seniors’ Club to which she belonged, enjoy the fellowship of other seniors, and return with little or no problem. We both told her that this was fantastic at her age of 93. But she answered, “The last few months I have been unable to do this because my legs won’t hold me up anymore.” After we had been there close to an hour, we could see that she was more fully awake. We asked if we could take a picture of her; and she said, “That would be real nice.” After taking the photograph, we told her that Gillian and Cliff, who drove us up to London, were parked outside and would like to visit her before we went back. To this she said, “Bring them in. I shall be glad to meet them.” I went and brought them in, introduced and explained to my mother who they were, spent another half hour with her, promised we would visit her again before going back to Canada, kissed her good-bye, and left. We walked back to the car, and Cliff said by going a little out of our way heading home we could see and photograph some of the historic places that we may not be able to the next time we come back. This is what we did; and although it was late when we got back to Fareham, it was a day Ruth and I shall never forget.

Before we went to bed, we sat in the living room having a snack when Gillian asked, “George, do you remember Mrs. Martin?” “Oh yes,” I replied. “She lived two houses from the sweet store on Gordon Road, and she was the one who took me in after my grandmother’s funeral.” I asked, “Is she still alive?” Gillian replied, “No, she died quite some time ago. But do you remember a little girl about two years old while you were there?” Well, I wasn’t sure I told her and asked why. “Well, we found out today for sure the little girl is your half sister.” My mouth sagged open. I put my cup down and said, “I can’t believe this.” Gillian said, “It has now been confirmed, and we will do everything in our power to locate her.” Wow, what a day!

FRIDAY, MAY 24

Today is Friday, May 24 and I am going to say that not too much was planned for today. Cliff mentioned that an elderly lady by the name of Mrs. Savage wanted to see me. She is a member of the same church that I went to and also my dad’s mother and dad’s church.

Cliff drove us into Fareham; and after parking the car, we walked one half a block to the address and rang the bell. After a few minutes, Mrs. Savage came to the door; and we followed her into the living room. The visit was a good visit, which I think she enjoyed just as much as we did. During our conversation she told me that her family moved into 67 Gordon Road (my birthplace) after my grandmother’s death and the house became empty. After our visit we went down to the Fareham Mall, shopped for awhile, and had lunch at Wendy’s; then, before we drove back home, we toured around the outskirts of Fareham just to bring back some old memories.

When we arrived home, Gillian had tea ready for us; and she was bursting to tell us something. We sat down; and Gillian looked at me and said, “We have the telephone number of your half- sister Shirley. But before you call her, there is something else. My sister June went to Sunday School with Shirley, went to day school, and played house and dolls with her. In fact, she was her best girl friend while growing up. Contact with each other was lost because of marriage, moving away, etc; and she says that it is unbelievable to find out that in a kind of a way we are related. She is as thrilled as I am to find out that lovely girl she grew up with is your half-sister. “Before you go to bed tonight,” Gillian said, “if it’s not too late, why don’t you give Shirley a call on the phone?”

Now I knew this wouldn’t be an ordinary phone call, but I wasn’t really prepared for what followed. Here is what took place as well as I can remember.

I picked up the phone, looked at the peculiar number Gillian gave me, and dialed. I waited nervously as I listened to the other end: one ring, two, three; and there was the familiar click as someone lifted the receiver.

“Hello” a female voice said. “Who is it, please?” I paused for just a moment; and the voice once again asked, “Who is this?”

I replied by saying, “I’m sorry. This is George. Are you Shirley, Shirley Martin?”

To this she replied, “Yes. This is Shirley but not Martin. I am married now. You said you are George. George who?”

I answered and said, “I’m George Clark from Canada, your half-brother.”

“My what?” she said. “Oh sure, why don’t you pull the other leg.”

I tried again. “Shirley,” I said. “Your mother and my mother were the same.”

“Oh, sure,” she comes back. “Where did you say you were from?”

I replied, “From Canada.”

“I don’t know if this is for real or not,” she said. “But let me go along with this, and I will ask you some questions. What was my mother’s name before she married Mr. Clark?”

I answered, “Harper.”

“What was her given names?”

“Edith Jane,” I replied. “And her married name now is Hulls. She is in a rest home in London, and we have just returned from visiting her.”

Gillian came into the hall and motioned for the phone. So I excused myself from Shirley and gave the phone to Gillian. Their conversation was mostly laughing; and after she hung up, I found out the reason why. You see, when Gillian said that they had finally got the phone number of Shirley, I just presumed there had been a conversation. But there had not. Then I had a good laugh and realized Shirley’s bewilderment. After we had stopped laughing, Gillian informed us that Shirley had invited us over for dinner the following day.

We thanked God for another wonderful day.

SATURDAY, MAY 25

Ruth and I wanted to find and visit Maud and Mabel of Trinity Gardens. These were the two ladies whom my son-in-law met in Fareham and who guided him to Uncle Ted. Now Uncle Ted wished also to see Maud and Mabel. So Cliff drove us into Fareham, picked up Uncle Ted, drove to Trinity Gardens that turns off Gordon Road, drove to the end, and turned right. There on the left was No. 13 where the Brants once lived, No. 14 where my Dad’s father and mother lived, and No. 16 where the ladies lived. Unfortunately, there was no response. So I instructed Cliff to return the way he came, and take Uncle Ted home. I told him that I knew of a short cut to Trinity Street and for him to meet Ruth and me there. I really did not know for sure if the short cut was still there, the one I used as a little boy; but sure enough it was, and with excitement I was explaining all the way to Ruth until we met up with Cliff.

We thank God for another good morning.

We went back to Gillian’s for lunch, and after we were to get ready for another great event. June (Gillian’s sister) and her husband John were coming for Ruth and me to drive us to Portsmouth, which with all probability could turn out even more breathtaking than the meeting with my mother. They were taking me to see and meet my half-sister.

It was about a forty-minute drive, so it wasn’t too long before we were pulling up outside of her house. My heart began to pound a little, the veins along side of my temples began to swell, and my hands were a little clammy. I made sure that I was the last one to enter the house; and as the others went in, I could hear this young feminine voice greeting each one. June turned and introduced Ruth, and then it was my turn. I heard June saying to the young woman in front of me, “Shirley, this is George, your half-brother from Canada.” She looked at me; I looked at her. She smiled; I smiled. Then she held out both her arms, and I melted into them; and we hugged one another, and tears began to flow. After introductions were finished, we gathered and sat in the living room; and each side began to ask questions, writing and exchanging notes, not counting the endless inquiries from both sides. It would be impossible to write down the complete conversations that transpired during the time between our arrival and when we sat down to the meal, but it was also a time of getting acquainted. After the meal we all went out into the back yard to talk some more and take pictures.

SUNDAY, MAY 26

The next day, Sunday the 26th, we all drove to the Weslyan Church for service. We enjoyed the service, met the pastor of the church, and also met Mrs. Savage’s sister, Mrs. Cummings. I was a little disappointed in a way because the church I had gone to had been torn down to make way for a large bus station. Before we left for home, word was brought to me that Miss Ward wished to see me. She lived right across the street from the church. We were told that she was well up in years now and was very sick with a rare blood disease.

I did not recognize her, which is understandable seeing we had not seen each other since I went to Sunday School and she was one of the teachers. We had a nice but short visit. She showed us some very old pictures. She even gave me one of a Sunday School picnic. I was in the front with a white suit and knickers. Miss Ward could be seen at the back under the trees. We all laughed when she recalled the evening of the church’s Christmas concert when she was a puppeteer and I was the puppet.

We drove home to Gillian’s where we had lunch; and after the dishes were done, Cliff asked us if we would like to go for a drive along the seashore. We did and wound up at Gosport. There is a channel of water a mile or so wide, and there is a ferry boat that travels back and forth every half hour. We took it for a return trip, enjoyed it, called it a day, and drove home. More tea and off to bed. Another good day.

MONDAY, MAY 27

A day also prearranged by our good host Gillian was to turn out to not only be a rewarding day, but to me a day of amazement. Don Clark, son of my dad’s brother Herbert, was to come over about 10 A.M. and take Ruth and me any place we wanted to go in and around Fareham that would bring back old memories.

However, before I mention anything about that day, I must take your thoughts back once more to Canada. About the middle of March of 1985, a few weeks after locating Uncle Ted and still being slightly numb getting the news about my mother, our phone rang; and automatically I picked it up and said, “Hello!” A voice unfamiliar to me answered, “Hello! Is this Mr. George Clark?” to which I replied, “yes.”

“Well,” he said, “I am Mr. Ken Burgess, and I believe that I am a cousin of yours from my grandmother’s side.” He went on to explain that his grandmother and my grandmother Harper were sisters. He informed me, as I listened in amazement, that he had just returned from Fareham, England, and knew of my birthplace, Trinity Gardens, where my dad’s mom and dad lived and so on. Before we finished talking, he said he had a letter and some photographs from Doris Brant and would bring them down some evening and we would get acquainted.

The roads were quite bad at this time. In fact, Traffic Control had closed parts of “401,” about which I informed him; and he said he would come later and would call before he came. He gave me his telephone number and address in Guelph, Ontario. A short time later Ruth phoned the Burgesses in Guelph, talked to his wife, and invited them to come to Windsor for Easter. About a week after the invitation, we received the letter and photographs from Doris Brant.

Now our thoughts can once more go back to England in the living room of Gillian. Don was knocking on the door. It was ten o’clock. Don came in. We shook hands. We had already met, and we just started to discuss where Ruth and I wanted to go when the phone rang. Don was standing right close to the phone, so Gillian asked him if he would answer it. I was sitting not too far away. I heard Don say, “Who?”; then there was a short silence. Don said, “You want to know if who is here?” With this he said, “Excuse me,” cupped his hand over the mouthpiece, looked at me, and asked, “Do you know someone by the name of Burgess?”

To this I replied, “Yes”; and he handed me the phone. After the normal hellos, I asked him where he was right then; and he replied that he was about fifteen miles away in Portsmouth.

“I arrived about thirty minutes ago, checked in the hotel, and then went about finding you. Can you and Ruth have dinner with my mother and me?”

I explained to him how our day was planned and asked if perhaps before either of us went back to Canada we could get together. We both said good-bye as soon as I told him Don was waiting. I couldn’t believe that Ruth and I should travel 4,400 miles and meet up with (or rather talk to on the phone) a young man whom we had tried to meet, only to fail, and his living 200 miles away from where we lived in Canada.

This was very troubling; and it was so disturbing that, for a moment or two, I thought perhaps it would spoil our whole day. Well, it didn’t once we got into the car and got started. Don asked, Where to? I replied, “to the Railway Station to see the changes if any.” Well, one change had been made since I was a nipper that I wasn’t expecting. Don parked the car; we got out; and as we walked toward the entrance, I looked right and then left, allowing my memory to go back many years. Arriving at the entrance, I led the way and continued through the one door and was heading for the platform when Don called, “Just a minute, George, till I buy platform tickets.” Well, I couldn’t believe it; but times change.

This was only the beginning. Don drove us all over. We even walked through the narrow walkway that I used to walk to school between the ages of five through to eight. Don drove us back to his house; and about three o’clock Don’s wife Edna came home, and we all enjoyed a wonderful dinner. After dinner we sat in the living room trying to jog each one’s memory of times past, from growing up at school, going out to work, etc.; and I tried to fill in from then until the present time. Don’s brother Kenneth came in, and the conversation started all over again. About 5 P.M. the phone rang, and I was surprised as Don motioned for me to take the phone. It was Ken Burgess again, and he was asking if it would be possible for Ruth and me to meet and join him and his mother for dinner at the Red Lion Hotel about six o’clock. I handcupped the phone and explained to Don what Ken wanted to know. Don nodded and said that he would drive us to the hotel. So after visiting for a little while longer, we said good-bye to Edna; and about six o’clock Don drove us to the Red Lion, which was located at the far end of West Street, Fareham.

We met as arranged; Don shook hands and then said good-bye and left. We did not have dinner with them, but Ken’s mother is of the Harper line and filled me with information that included my mother and helped me to draw up a family tree of the Harper line. I took a picture of Ken and his mother outside the Hotel, and then we called Don to come and take us home. We found out also that Ken is a flight engineer with Wardair Air Lines, and he makes the trip to England many times each year. It wasn’t any wonder he was so hard to get in touch with and to make visits with. He had a busy life. Even as we said good-bye, he was preparing to make connections to get back to work.

Don did some investigating on his own for me in regard to finding a headstone, marker, or something so that we could go to the cemetery to pay respect to my grandmother. Unfortunately, he found out there were no markers, only grass; but he did find out she died October 1929. I had forgotten the exact date. Well, Don drove us to Gillian’s to complete another great day.

TUESDAY, MAY 28

Not too much was planned for today. So after we got up and made toast and coffee, Gillian, Ruth, and I sat out in the sun porch and talked away the time. When we were good and ready, we got ready and drove up to the Mall, shopped until lunch time, had lunch at one of the shops, and came home. This was the day that will not be forgotten by Ruth. She heard a cuckoo for the first time in her life. Doris Brant had invited us over again. So about 5 P.M. Wulf, (Doris’s brother) came over to pick us up. There were eight of us there, and we all sat around except Doris, who was getting the meal; and once again history and childhood days were discussed until Doris called for us to sit for dinner.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 29

Cliff and Gillian drove us to Uncle Charlie’s again where we met Reginald and his wife Christina. Reginald is Mavis’s brother. We had an extremely good visit. We sat out in the garden and had tea. It was a glorious day, about the best day by later report that south of England had had all summer. Oh yes, Ruth heard another cuckoo this day. I asked Uncle Charlie where Granddad Harper went immediately after the funeral of his wife; and he with sadness explained that Grandfather was very ill, and his daughters took him back to Chesterfield (north of England) to live with them. This has troubled me ever since that tragic day because I did not see him from that day to this. It was as though he just vanished into the air. Cliff and Gillian came and got us. Uncle Charlie gave us a beautiful tea tray with a picture of Prince Charles and Di.

THURSDAY, MAY 30

We had another leisurely toast and coffee and chit-chat breakfast, and Ruth and Gillian had hair appointments; so they dropped me off at a large store similar to our Canadian Tire Store, and they picked me up when they were finished. Gillian had already informed me that Shirley, my half-sister, would be over about 2:30 for lunch and to say good-bye to us as she and her husband were going on a vacation and would not be there when we left.

We had an extremely good chat over lunch, but I couldn’t help thinking to myself that it was quite probable that today would be the last day we would see each other. Uncle Ted had invited us over for tea for 6:30; so about 6:00 P.M. Shirley, Ruth, and I drove over to his home in Fareham. There were two other persons there when we arrived, an elderly lady and a great big man about my age; and Uncle Ted introduced us. “This is Miss Cummings,” Ted said, “and this is Ronald McDonald with whom you sat in school.” Well, we again had a nice visit and lunch again; and then Shirley said that she really had to leave. I walked her to the front door, and we looked at one another and had the longest hug with tears just overflowing. I could not believe the human drawing power that was between us, but that old saying is very true: “Blood is thicker than water.” Oh yes, Miss Cummings was one of my Sunday School teachers at the Wesleyan Church. Ronald sent me a picture that was taken of our class (Public School) about 58 years ago.

FRIDAY, MAY 31

Cliff had to go into work this day, but it was a day off for Michael; and with the foreknowledge during the week, he arranged bookings for passage on the car boat for 9 A.M. to go to the Isle of Wight for the day. This is a very good-size island, which is situated about 15 miles off the southern coast of England with the Solent Waters on one side and the English Channel on the other side. The population of the island would be difficult to determine because in the summer there are millions of people there to swim, lay on the beaches, enjoy themselves in the various amusement parks, boat, fish, and much much more. However in the winter, the fun-loving people are at home; and only local residents are left behind.

Well, we all got up about 7:30 A.M., had a bite to eat, piled into Michael’s car, and drove to Southampton about fifteen miles west along the coast. Southampton is a large shipping port; and upon arriving, Michael had to look and find the dock that specialized the car ferry to the Isle of Wight. Once found we drove in and were told where to park and then to purchase our tickets and wait until we were called to drive on the ferry. Finally our turn came, and after driving on, we got out of the car and went up on deck to enjoy the one-hour trip and to take some pictures. During our conversation up on deck, it was mentioned that, if we wanted to, we could come back to Southampton via the Hydrofoil instead of the ferry. Just then one of these Hydrofoils was seen speeding towards its rendezvous with its passengers. We were on the lower deck at this time, which was surrounded by glass; but quickly I got the camera ready and snapped a picture through the glass. Later I picked up a postcard, which shows it much better. This vehicle is just an ordinary pleasure boat sitting in the water; but once moving, it rises up on water skis and will do about forty miles per hour. Just before we docked, I noticed a building with a Union Jack on the outside; but just as I took a picture, the doors opened. Before we left the dock, we were aware that the time for the return was 4:30 P.M.; and it was now 10 A.M., which would give us six and one-half hours to do all that we wanted to do. Michael said, as we all got into the car again and drove off the ferry, that the halfway mark would be “The Needles” and we should try and reach this point by 12 noon, have lunch, take in the sights, and leave there at least by 1 P.M. Well, it was 11:55 A.M. when we got to “The Needles” (which incidentally is the west end of the island, and I mean “end”), had lunch, and then proceeded to explore the island.

The first thing we did was to take a ride on the Alum Bay Chair Lift, which takes one up hundreds of feet up on the edge of the cliff and allows one to look out over the bay. Going up and looking out over the bay wasn’t too bad; but the experience of going down the side of the cliff was frightening to me, I might say, seeing that heights and I do not agree. Well, we all finally got to the bottom and walked on the sand; and after informing Ruth that this was part of the English Channel, that this was the salt water she always wanted to swim in. Tried unsuccessfully to get her to even take her shoes off. She did, however, crouch down and put her hand in it. Then it was picture-taking time. Michael took one of Ruth and me. I took some of the Needles, the cliff that was made up of different coloured sand, and one of Michael and his mother going up the chair lift. Well, it was time to leave for the dock when we got to the top of the cliff and stopped in a small village. We stopped long enough to buy some souvenirs and take some pictures of the houses with thatched roofs. As soon as we had done this, we headed for the dock. This is where Michael and Gillian took the car and went to the other side on the car ferry while Ruth and I came back on the Hydrofoil. What a joy and experience that was. We got to the other side in about thirty minutes, whereas the ferry took one hour. After getting together, we all got into the car and drove home.

Another wonderful day.

SATURDAY, JUNE 1

We were in the hands of the Temples this day, so Bob (Pauline’s husband) drove over and picked us up at Gillian’s and drove us to the Fareham Recreational Park so that I might enjoy watching a Cricket game. Ruth and Pauline shopped until it was time to go to the Temples.

This concluded another day.

SUNDAY, JUNE 2

We all went to church; and after the service we went outside, and we were shaking hands and saying good-bye to a lot of friends. We noticed Michael, who had picked up Uncle Ted, was taping the activities with a movie camera.

After this little episode, I asked if we could drive by the Trinity Church so I could take some pictures. Before we did this, however, I snapped one of the (new) Wesleyan Church. The old one to which I belonged was torn down to make way for a bus station.

MONDAY, JUNE 3

The plan for the day was to return to London to visit my mother and to take in some more sights of the city; and because of better planning the night before, we were looking for a better day than last time. Well, our planning paid off as you will see. We got up at 7 A.M., left Titchfield (near Fareham), and arrived in London about 10 A.M. Cliff drove to a large bridge spanning the Thames called the Tower Bridge. I snapped two quick pictures from inside the car, and then he drove us into a large park along side of the Thames. Just as we got out of the car, a blimp went over us and a boat with tourists churned its way on the river at low tide. After parking the car, we went by bus to Hyde Park and took a short walk to Buckingham Palace, the home of the Queen, to see the changing of the Guards. Here more pictures were taken. It was 12 noon by now, and we walked not too far from the Palace and had lunch.

After lunch we took a “Tour Bus” and were driven for about one hour with a guide explaining each point of interest. I took quite a few pictures through the glass window and was surprised that any came out. After the tour we went to Burger King for a “spot of tea,” and this was one of the more up-to-date with the brass rails; so I took a picture

As soon as we had our cup of tea, we walked across the road into a new adventure for me – “the Underground Railway.” We used this to get to the north of London where my mother is. We enjoyed every minute of the ride. Our visit with Mother was even better than the time before. We found her more alert and not sleepy. She was more talkative and very receptive when we prayed with her. When we said good-bye this time, I think we all sensed that this time it was final. After we left Mother, we met with Cliff and Gillian, reversed our travel, picked up the car, stopped on the way home for supper, and got home about 11 P.M.

Another good day.

TUESDAY, JUNE 4

June (Gillian’s sister) and John, her husband, drove over and picked us up about 10 A.M. to take us to Portsmouth. This is a large sea and naval port, very old, yet modern in many ways, and has lots of historic places to see. I wanted Ruth to see “The HMS Victory,” Admiral Nelson’s Flagship. We parked the car a short distance from the Naval Barracks, which enabled us to quite easily walk to the entrance. Just inside the entrance, there was a placard announcing the time the museum was open regarding “The Mary Rose.” John suggested that we go in here first and then the HMS Victory before it got too crowded. We did just that. This was the pride of Henry VIII; in the year 1545, the king placed this Man of War in front of the Armada as the British fought the French in the waters of the Solent. The king’s pride and determination to win prompted him to order 200 of his best soldiers in full armor to board the Mary Rose. However, the ship was designed to carry 434 personnel; and the 260 soldiers who were added made it 634 on board. Added weight proved too much for the 600-ton battle ship as it raced through the waves. As the ship slithered through the water, it began to roll from side to side; and the lower portholes and cannon holes began to take on water. In only a few minutes, the Mary Rose began to sink. She sank out of sight and was lost but not forgotten. Scuba divers located half of the ship still preserved in silt whereas the other half had rotted away with the salt water. It wasn’t until 1982 that a project and committee was formed, headed by Prince Charles. The Mary Rose was raised and still is on display.

We came out there numb with amazement; and yet with anticipation, we were looking forward to seeing “The Victory.” As we came into the vicinity, I asked John and June to walk toward the ship and turn so I could take a picture. Then it was our time to have a picture taken, Before we went on board, I took a picture of the stem of the ship. We had to sit in a group of about three hundred people sitting and waiting to tour the ship. There were at least six guides taking 20 persons as a group to tour. It wasn’t too long that we had to wait, and what was seen and heard from the guide was well worth it. We were shown the captain’s quarters, the crew’s quarters and the contrast, the cook’s galley, and much more. We were taken down to the lower parts of the ship where the cannons were. The guide told us that the ship from bow to stem, top deck to lower deck, had to be spotless at all times; and sailors would be flogged if they were caught spitting anywhere except into containers that were supplied. After being at sea for any length of time, when the ship docked, a roster was taken for the purpose of seeing how many men were missing. Now, very few men wanted to join the British Navy. So local pubs were visited in the wee hours of the morning looking for drunks. These poor fellows were slugged on the back of the head and carried off to the ship. If escape was tried, they were tied up until the ship set sail.

Well, so much for the tours we all said as we were led to the exit– and now for the beach and food. June had packed a great lunch; but our plans were changed, for outside it was beginning to rain. John said, “Never mind; we will drive down to the Solent and have our lunch there.” While we were sitting in the car, the rain pouring down, a ship came along; and being a little disappointed with the weather, I got my camera, jumped out of the car, and snapped a picture to overcome a little frustration. While the rain continued, we drove to the D-Day Museum. We first watched a film from start to finish of the complete invasion. The most amazing thing I thought about the museum was the display: sections about fifteen feet long and four feet high under glass depicting the story from start to finish by many, many ladies by the method of appliqued embroidery. We drove home to John and June’s, and guess what? On went the kettle, and it was time to eat again. After we ate, John drove around to his son’s home to see the twins. We snapped a picture and chatted for a while, and then John drove us to Gillian’s.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5

Over breakfast, Gillian asked if we would like to see a beautiful cathedral. We thought this would be just fine because, for one thing, the date was drawing close to our departure back to Canada. As we were driving, Cliff said we were headed for a place about fifteen miles away called Winchester. This is one of the oldest cities in the south of England (how old I was unable to find out), and in it were many buildings hundreds of years old. We parked the car and began to walk through the city, and the first picture I took was a building about five hundred years old. We went by a statue of King Alfred, and I kick myself for not taking a picture.

Finally at the end of the street was the cathedral. We went through a large opening entering into the grounds where there were people sitting on the grass: some eating their lunch, some just standing, and some like us with cameras taking pictures. What I am about to write now at the time was a little startling and also ironic. We were almost at the front of the cathedral; and I said to Cliff, “Give me a chance to take some pictures before we go in, will you?” He said, “Go ahead.” I moved a little from where I was standing to make sure of a picture of the front, checked my camera to make sure everything was set, took perfect aim, and was about to push the button when a voice came over a loud speaker. “Everyone, clear the grounds immediately!”

“What on earth,” I thought; but quickly I pushed the button and retreated. I looked at Cliff, and he did not seem surprised at all; for he said to me, “We had better hurry. This is a bomb scare.” He explained to us that this went on all the time. In fact, he told us that, on the day following our return from London, a bomb blew up one of the places we visited on the tour. Well, we did not linger, believe me, but walked up through the town. At the top of the road is Winchester Castle. We went in, and looked around, and the two main things we saw was King Arthur’s Round Table (original) and the stainless steel chains making a gate in two archways. These were hung there in 1981 when the Prince of Wales and Diana got married. After the tour, we picked up a brochure and a booklet about Winchester and then walked back down the hill to the shops. After shopping, we walked back to the parking lot, picked up the car, and drove home.

THURSDAY, JUNE 6 (the day before departure)

Cliff suggested that we have a quiet day by going sight-seeing around Fareham, perhaps places that would please me and some that might have been missed during our stay. We drove through the main part of the town to High Street and turned and continued until I asked Cliff to stop. We parked the car, and all of us got out. Right in front of us across the street was a corner shop and post office. I worked at this shop when I was a nipper, who just left school; and I explained to Gillian, Cliff, and Ruth that nothing had changed. It was exactly the same then as it was in my day as a lad. I got Ruth to stand outside the shop, and I took a picture. I motioned to Cliff and Gillian to follow; and after walking about one hundred yards, I showed them the school that I attended when I was 5 to 8 years old. The tree was the same that day as it was in my childhood days. In fact, if one talked to elderly people, one would think it was always there. We walked about fifty yards; and Cliff took a picture of me standing in an alley through which I walked, ran, and played going to and from school. The wall against which I leaned was the same original wall that I used to walk by and touch when I was small. We swung around after this; and I asked Cliff to drive to the quay so I could take a picture where I, with many other boys, went diving and swimming.

FRIDAY, JUNE 7

This was our last day in England, at least on this trip; and after verifying our flight once more, webrought our suitcases down from upstairs and loaded the car. A car pulled up, and who should it be but John and June ready to go to the airport and say good-bye. Well, the good-byes were not tearless; but after much hugging, we were forced to go on account that over the loud speaker system those on the Worldways Flight to Canada were asked to show their tickets and enter into the large waiting room. A funny thing yet almost a tragedy took place after we went through the wicket. We sat down and waited for the loud speaker to announce that we could board; and if it had not been for Ruth and her noticing on an overhead silent call, we would have missed the plane. We found later that the airport only announces cancellations and late arrivals. Well, we ran as soon as we caught on and made the flight. One more problem before we got home:. from the time of landing and the flight home was one hour, not enough time for us to get our luggage from Customs. We picked it up on Sunday.

Apart from that we had an excellent holiday, and a great union has been formed.

SUMMARY

I shall never forget the day that we arrived home. Alex and Sharon met us at the Windsor Airport, gave us a great welcome, and drove us home. We opened the front door of our home; and, lo and behold, there was a card from cousins Pauline and Bob welcoming us home. Very thoughtful of them we both agreed.

During the months that followed, we continued to keep in touch with everyone whom we met, exchanging photos and county papers. We kept in touch with my mother with flowers. (Her eyes were not good enough for reading.)

One person whom we never did meet but wished we had was Mrs. Dennant, a long-time good friend of my mother. She owned and operated the nursing home where Mother was given a room and looked after during her last and final days.

It was she who called us long distance from England to inform us that Mother was dying. On April 20,1986, God quietly called her home in her sleep.

Through this whole treasured experience, we knew that God put it all together from the beginning; and we thank Him for people willing to be used and led by the Holy Spirit.

For instance, Alex and his mother did not have to go to Fareham as I asked; but they did. The events that followed were not motivated by man but by God. For instance, if the lady at the rear of the house, in which one I was born, had not refused Alex’s request to take pictures, he would not have gone to Trinity Gardens and would never have met Maud and Mabel. It was these two ladies who gave directions that eventually led to the finding of Uncle Ted. And if they had arrived 30 seconds later than they did, the meeting would never have taken place. (Uncle Ted, with cane in hand, was on his way to the shops.)

It was through Uncle Ted that Uncle Charlie was located, and through him my Mother came into the picture.

The unknown small void in my span of life was filled as soon as I met my mother, and I thank God for putting the last piece of the puzzle into place.

H. V. George Clark