I REMEMBER MAMA

I remember Mama . . .

My mother, Ruth Pearson Scott

• ·        Chasing Jo and Robyn around the kitchen table with a switch, while I watched the legs go round and round from my vantage point under the table.
• ·        Reading the ‘funnies’ to five-year-old me, as we lay together on the wide couch after dinner; and enjoying them not only because they were funny, but because she loved to share.
• ·        Gathering up her tools after nap time and going down to the pasture to work on the playhouse – again sharing the fun with a five-year-old daughter.
• ·        Making a picnic lunch of egg sandwiches and lemonade, putting it in a brown paper sack and walking through Hollensteiner’s woods to Skidoo Creek for a picnic with her three daughters.
• ·        Gathering her three girls together each Sunday for Sunday School, complete with singing, prayers, reading and discussion.
• ·        Starting a compost pile, planting potatoes under straw mulch, getting excited about Ruth Stout and organic gardening, and sending us into the horse pasture with a bushel basket and a shovel to gather up fertilizer for her garden.
• ·        Collecting some pretty lengths of fabric and taking me with her for a walk after dark to put the package of material in a struggling neighbor’s mailbox.
• ·        As a Relief Society president, having me haul her around in the car almost daily with armfuls of vegetables for families in need.
• ·        Seeing everything as one more adventure or a cause to celebrate: from painting her room to eating the good winter squash she grew; from planting the garden in the spring to teaching school; from going to a movie to fixing up the garage for a bedroom. Life was never dull for Mama.

Mama loved the gospel. She loved to talk about it and read about it, discuss it and write about it; and she would share her enthusiasm with anyone who would listen.

Mama oozed artistic talent:  she drew and painted, built rocking horses and a playhouse, bookends and hope chests; she didn’t like to knit or crochet, but she made beautiful quilts and afghans out of old woolen clothing.

Winter was never Mama’s favorite time of year. She would complain of “cabin fever” during those long dark months, and at the first sign of spring head out to see what she wanted to do with the garden this year. Mama had a garden every year up till she died at age 87.

When Mama was young, she and her sisters sang together. Their voices were beautiful and they were often asked to sing in different wards and for various occasions. Music was always a big part of her life. Daddy loved to hear her sing, and when we went on trips, Mama always brought a hymn book so that we could sing as we traveled.

Ruth, Ramona and Imogene Pearson

Books were another major part of Mama’s life – good books. And they were always better shared. So, we grew up listening to her read her favorites: David Copperfield, The Little Minister, Laddie, The Virginian, and countless others.

I was blessed to have two mothers: Mama and her sister, my aunt Ramona. They were very much alike and they were very different, but they enjoyed each other. They would laugh together, they would argue about whose memory was correct, they loved good food and were wonderful cooks. Mama left us first; two years later, as Nonie’s time to go got close, she said to me, “It’s like your Ma said: This will just be another adventure.”

Mama (Ruth) and Aunt Nonie (Ramona)

Mama

Molded – of brown valley clay, baked warm in the sun.

Molded – of irrigation ditches, seagulls, spring calves and dying crops;

Of a silent, humorous farmer father,

A laughing, ingenious Swedish mother.

She came out of depression days:

Newspaper-wrapped lunches, bare feet, and one dress a year.

She was brought up on Sunday School, green apples, Dickens, and willow switches.

Her dream was to write, draw, teach, do great things.

She became, after long, lonely years,

A Mother – all ambitions blended into one.

Now she is: strong as the mountains, rich as the earth, unchangeable forever.

                                                                          

(Poem by Robyn S. Warner; life sketch by Martha S. Jessop)

ANDREW TURNBULL, SON OF . . . ? ?

How the Turnbulls got their name! (Heritage Hub in Hawick.)

In the post dated May 8, I invited anyone and everyone to help me decide who Andrew Turnbull’s parents were. Edith was the only one to venture a guess. Her idea was different than mine, which made me go back and re-think my theory. It will be good for me to go over my reasoning and see if it makes sense. I also want to know if it makes sense to others. Feedback is welcome!

• In the last post, we saw that Andrew, in naming his children, followed the Scottish naming pattern, but with a slight twist: we know the maternal grandparents are John (Little) and Mary (Armstrong). Andrew Turnbull named his second daughter and second son after their maternal grandparents. So chances are good that his first son and daughter were named after their paternal grandparents – Andrew and Agnes.

• Building on this reasoning, I purchased the birth record of Andrew Turnbull, born/christened 22 Nov 1767 in Hawick to parents Andrew Turnbull, mason, and Agnes Deans. Is it too far-fetched to theorize that Andrew the younger, whom we know to be a mason, would have followed in his father’s footsteps and learned his father’s trade?

• As I looked for a little more background on Andrew Turnbull and Agnes Deans, I discovered that Agnes’s mother’s name was Isobel / Isabel. That could account for Andrew’s and Janet’s youngest daughter being named Isabella.

• The timing of the proclamation of Andrew’s and Janet’s clandestine marriage may also be significant, as it comes about the time of Andrew’s twenty-first birthday (if he is the son of Andrew and Agnes).

The Turnbull Coat of Arms

• A major problem with this theory is that ‘everybody else’ on Ancestry seems to be on the same track. I’m a suspicious person and I hate going along with the crowd unless there is good reason. Thirteen other family trees show Andrew Turnbull and Agnes Deans as the parents of Andrew Turnbull who married Janet Little. But none of those thirteen show any documentation except other family trees!

It’s pretty much circumstantial evidence, so, even though I feel like it’s right, I’m not going to stop looking for some record that will tie the two families together. In the meantime, I guess I’ll jump on the band wagon and add Andrew Turnbull and Agnes Deans to my Ancestry tree; but I will definitely show my reasoning for choosing them as the parents of our Andrew Turnbull. And I will keep my mind open to any other clues either proving or disproving my theory.

WILL THE REAL ANDREW TURNBULL . . . .

Just because Andrew Turnbull’s marriage record says he was “from Hawick”, I’m not going to ignore the possibility that he may have been born in either Roxburghshire or Dumfries-shire. Since Andrew was married in 1788, I made a guess that he would have been around 20 years old when he married, making him born about 1768. A search of the Old Parish Registers in Dumfries for the years 1760-1772 brought up no births of an Andrew Turnbull. The same search in Roxburgh resulted in 10 hits, six of them in Hawick Parish. Parents’ names of the six Andrew Turnbulls in Hawick are as follows: born 1761 to William and Isabel; born 1770 to Andrew and Margaret; born 1764 to Andrew and Agnes; born 1767 to Andrew and Agnes; born 1772 to William and Ann; born 1768 to Thomas and Jane. Those in other parishes in Roxburgh include: born 1766 to Andrew and Margaret in Kelso; born 1764 to Andrew and Janet in Kelso; born 1767 to Robert and Janet in Sprouston; and born 1764 to William and [?] in Southdean and Abbotrule.

If only we could just say, “Will the real Andrew Turnbull please stand up!”

In these days of making up odd or different names for our children, we maybe don’t realize that long ago there were some unwritten rules for naming your offspring. They weren’t always followed exactly, but it’s uncanny to see how often they hold true. Here’s the Scottish naming pattern: First son named after paternal grandfather; second son named after maternal grandfather; first daughter named after maternal grandmother; second daughter named after paternal grandmother; after the first four they might go with parents, then aunts and uncles, even great-grandparents. So . . . let’s see what Andrew Turnbull and Janet Little (daughter of John Little and Mary Armstrong) named their children:

• Agnes (not the maternal grandmother – could it be the paternal grandmother?)
• Andrew (father? Paternal grandfather?)
• Mary (maternal grandmother)
• John (maternal grandfather)
• Isabella (????).

Well? Who would you choose to be the parents of our Andrew Turnbull? I know who I would choose . . . to investigate further.

FOLLOWING THE CLUES

Genealogy detective work gets so complicated! All the little clues lead off in different directions which eventually come back together, but to explain how you follow those clues – well it’s difficult. But that’s what makes genealogy so intriguing to me. And that’s what brings the people – my ancestors – alive: the little things that made up their lives.

I’ve read the Langholm Parish record of Andrew Turnbull and Janet Little’s marriage dozens of times searching for a clue to parents, birthplace, anything! This time, I wasn’t looking for anything. I was just reading:

1788; Novr 2: Marriage declared and adhered to before the Session betwixt Andrew Turnbull, Mason, from Hawick and Janet Little Daughter to the Deceased John Little Flesher in Langholm – alledged to have taken place Clandestinly the 1st of July last.

I used to get hung up on that “Marriage . . . alledged to have taken place Clandestinly”. Clandestine marriages were perfectly legal – they just didn’t take place in the “Church”, weren’t performed by an authorized clergyman, and didn’t follow the rules of either posting banns or getting a license. Once the marriage was declared before the kirk, the couple was often made to pay a fine and then their marriage was blessed by the church.

This time, as I read, I realized that Andrew Turnbull was from Hawick – a detail which I hadn’t followed to its logical conclusion before! So, okay, he was a stranger, an outsider, in Langholm – what was he doing there?

Evidently, there are two or three old quarries on Whita Hill near Langholm that produce a beautiful, white sandstone which was used to build houses and other buildings in Langholm. In 1778, there was a building boom in Langholm: they started building “New Langholm” – using the stone from the Whita Hill quarry. Eventually, around 140 houses were built in New Langholm. Andrew would have been just a kid in 1778, possibly just beginning his apprenticeship to become a mason; but 140 buildings wouldn’t have sprung up overnight. As I research the rules applying to the apprentices of stone masons, it seems very logical to me that Andrew was in Langholm working as a stone mason – and possibly had been for several years before his marriage to Janet Little.

The next order of business, of course, is to find some parents for Andrew in Hawick. I THINK I have found them, but I have only circumstantial evidence, and I really would like to find something that supports my deductions. Maybe I should lay out what I know and take a vote . . . .

Here are two links to websites with some interesting notes on stone masonry:

http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/medieval-england/medieval-masons/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stonemasonry

YOU'VE GOT TO ASK THE RIGHT QUESTIONS!

This is me doing a cautiously excited happy dance!

If you know me moderately well, you know that I’m kind of a stickler for accuracy when it comes to dates, places, and relationships in my genealogy. So even though I’m doing an excited, happy dance . . . it’s still cautious.

Andrew Turnbull and Janet Little have been a bit of a puzzle to me for many years. We know they are the parents of Mary Turnbull who married Walter Riddell and was my great, great grandmother. Andrew and Janet were married in Langholm, Dumfries, Scotland – we have that record – and we have records of their six children being born in Langholm. And then – nothing –  until they turn up in the 1841 census in Hawick – most of them married, working in the textile industry as weavers and spinners. The parents, Andrew and Janet, have disappeared, I have assumed they died.

People die or disappear – there’s nothing odd about that – but if they’re going to move around, I want to know why! So a big part of the puzzle, for me, has been: Why did they leave Langholm where their father was a mason, (a man with a trade which would make him a respected member of the community) and end up in Hawick as poorly paid weavers?

Well . . . I think I may have found some answers. There are several parts to the answers. The first question, “Why did the Turnbull family end up in Hawick?”, is actually the wrong question. It should have been, “What was Andrew Turnbull doing in Langholm?” When I tried to explain the whole complicated thing to my kids, they just looked baffled, so I’ll have to get my thoughts in order. It may take me a couple of days . . . .