Passing On Mother's Jewellry to Her Great-Granddaughters

 Yesterday I sorted a small box of my mother's jewellry. It was a job that has been waiting for me to tackle since her death in 2009.

Mom didn't have expensive jewellry but she had necklaces and earrings that she loved and wore frequently. She was especially fond of butterflies and I found one butterfly necklace in the box.

With some odd type of synchronicity, I found three necklaces that needed untangling. Let's just say that Mother didn't hang her jewellry carefully, she tended to toss it in a heap in a box.

Anyway, I found, and untangled 3 necklaces. I have 3 granddaughters. What are the odds? 3 necklaces and 3 granddaughters. So I am going to give them Mother's necklaces.

I'm writing a note to each of them and enclosing a photo and little bio of their great-grandmother Joan.

I hope they treasure these items and pass them on to their daughters.

The Joy of Genealogy

As I continue my unpacking of my mother's 11 boxes of documents, photos and miscellaneous items from her apartment, I find myself becoming easily distracted.

Each item makes me pause and reflect. What did this mean to mother? When and where did she get it? Why did she keep it?

Mother was the story-teller in the family and she often told me stories of her childhood and what she recalled of her grandparents. But she was never interested in the family history until later in life.

Her parents were both born in England and I would send her my findings on her family whenever I searched out something new. Then the genealogy bug hit her. She became fascinated at finding new ancestors and in 1997 at the age of 81 went with me on her first research trip -- to Salt Lake City, the mecca of genealogists!

When we found her Fuller family origins in Lenham Kent England in the 1860s but could not research further back because those records had not been microfilmed, she would not give up. Within a few months she had made arrangements with the vicar to fly over from Canada and research in the local church parish book.

She spent several days in the dark and damp church poring over the old church books that went back to the 1600s. Her journal reflects the difficulties she had reading the old script and staying warm. Of course with no photocopier she had to copy and write everything out by hand - a monumental task!

Now I find that her genealogy files are overflowing. How much of it is data I sent her? How much of it did she find and share with me? How much is new to me? It's wonderful that she was so enthralled with research and genealogy. But I have a huge task ahead to go through all her notes and hopefully make some new discoveries along the way. Wish me luck!

A Photograph Leads to More Genealogy Discoveries

In my mother's boxes of items from her apartment, I found 2 photographs both marked on the back in my grandmother's writing. One was a photo of Grandma's brother Ernest (Ern) Simpson with his daughter Doris.


Ern's photo was written on the back "April 21st 1923. Wait[ing for t]he Canada on the [dock?] at Liverpool" My mother had added the names "Doris & Ernest Simpson" in block printing

The second photo was of Ern's wife Cordelia Cook. Auntie Cordie's photo was harder to read but it said "[-----------] alone S S Canada April 1923" I love that Auntie Cordie is on board the SS Canada and you can see the funnel and other ship structures in the background.

Ernie was born in 1883 in Ramsgate England, the eldest child of my great grandparents David & Sarah (Stead) Simpson. As kids We saw quite a lot of Uncle Ern, Auntie Cordie and their daughter Doris. They would often drive from Toronto to Ajax for a visit.

I know quite a bit about Ernie as he and his wife Cordie came to Canada in 1908 and settled in Toronto where he ran a Grocery Store.

A search of Ancestry.comlast year found Ern and Cordie's arrival in Canada in 1908 but I had never gotten around to checking other years in case they went back to England to visit family. So the 1923 photo was a very nice surprise!

The photographs in Mother's possessions sent me scrambling back to Ancestry.com but nothing was found for their sailing from Liverpool to Canada in 1923. I did find their departure from Canada to Liverpool in 1922 and the passenger list shows that they were headed for his mother's house in Ramsgate.

His paternal grandmother Sarah (Page) Simpson, shown here in the picture of Ern in 1885, lived with his mother until her death in 1921 so sadly Ern would not be seeing her on the 1922 trip.

When Doris died in her 90s, all of her papers and photographs came to me for safe-keeping. She and her parents were preservers, there were oodles of documents. Curiosity compelled me to look through the box at the time but I confess that I never scanned or studied them in depth.

Although I am bogged down with boxes from my mother's apartment, off I went to pull out the tub with Doris' belongings - and to my delight I found several documents that provide more detail on her father Ernie.


Ernie's original birth certificate from 1883 was in Doris' Genealogy Box, as was his wedding certificate (the original) from 1907. In a strange "small genealogy world" kind of way, I happen to have my great grandmother's bible which has the entry of his marriage written the same day it occured.

I also have several lovely wedding day photos of Ern and Cordelia, found in an antique photo album belonging to Doris. One is the full wedding party and the rest are of the happy couple.

The bible is another story. After Great-Grandmother Simpson died in England, the bible was given to my grandmother's sister's step-daughter who gave it to her daughter who immigrated to Australia to live! That's confusing isn't it? So Great-grandma's bible was in the hands of a non-blood distant relative who very graciously mailed it to my mother when she asked for it many years ago.

So now I am digging through my mother's cousin Doris' Genealogy Box and will write about what I find there that relates to my Uncle Ern Simpson and his family.

Unpacking the Genealogy Treasures

These are a few of the items found in the first box I unpacked. Mother's Pilot Log Book was a suprise, I don't think any of us knew she had kept it. She took her pilot's licence in 1982 at the age of 66 in preparation for building and flying her own ultralight aircraft.

Finding her log book helped me firmly establish another date in her genealogy timeline, because I could not remember the exact year she learned to fly.

She and her companion Godfrey Harwood are shown here standing beside their ultralight when it was finished. Some of the other genealogy finds were a memory book of her 90th Birthday Party in 2007, a few of her personal journals, one of her trip diaries which she typed and printed off her computer (her 2001 camping trip in the Australian Outback at age 85), a small bible, a dragon wall tile she bought on her trip to China (which she used as a hot plate) and two incredible treasures of jewellery.

One was a small engraved heart-shaped locket "To Joan from Cec" which my father gave her on their wedding day in 1936. Inside is room for two small photos, one for my father the second for my mother. This was a beautiful treasure and one I will cherish.

The best genealogy find though was a tarnished silver charm bracelet which held heads and hearts engraved with the full names and complete birthdates of all her grandchildren up to 1973. I am going to add the last two grandchildren born after 1973 so that the bracelet is complete. What a genealogical treasure for a future descendant!

I'm making good progress and following advice given here on my blog, am sorting items into plastic tubs for later conservation - but enjoying them now!

Almost a Dozen Boxes of Life, Where do I Begin?

Yesterday I looked at the 11 large cardboard boxes and 2 huge plastic tubs containing my mother's life. As I mentioned in my posts Packing Up a Life, the boxes contain an assortment of items from her apartment. Mother was not an organized person and her living areas reflected that.

So each box contains eclectic items that were packed as I found them - a trip diary, old photos, earrings she had taken off and laid down on top of a pile of papers. One room may have held 3 trip diaries, others were scattered in one of two bedrooms, some were in drawers. This makes for difficult unpacking as I don't know what is in each box. We had very little time and could not sort before packing, it all has to be done now that the boxes are here ready to unpack.

As I stood and gazed at the boxes sitting on top of each other in my computer room, I wondered how on earth I should tackle this huge job. "Start with one box" said my husband. His idea was that I would unpack one box, sort it, organize it, archive it and scan or copy any papers to share with my siblings. Then all the items in that box would be stored in their proper place. But where WAS their proper place?

And how could I unpack one box and go through it carefully when it might contain one trip diary but none of the others. Shouldn't I unpack everything and organize items in some kind of chronological order? And did I really want 10 boxes sitting for weeks while I took my time with one?

Finally I decided I had to unpack one box and organize the items within by putting them in plastic storage tubs. I knew I would find my mother's writings, her memoirs, her trip diaries, photographs and her genealogy papers. So I would need (at a minimum) one tub for photos, one for memoirs and souvenirs relating to her life, one for her trip diaries and one huge tub for her genealogy papers.

I decided I could not allow myself to enjoy what was inside each box, but instead unpack, sort, organize into tubs until all boxes were empty. When all the boxes were unpacked I would allow myself to take one tub at a time and go slowly through it.

Easier said than done! The first box had many surprises and treasures. Besides the dust there was a very nice photo of my grandmother on her wedding day to her second of three husbands, several other photos I had never seen before taken in the 1920s in Guelph Ontario, her writings about her trips to Australia, Alaska and Russia, two published articles about mother, my aunt and my grandmother living and travelling around N. America in a Winnebago in the 1970s, a book of minutes of meetings where she was secretary, an envelope of newspaper clippings of births, deaths and marriages from the early 1900s, a 1967 Expo Souvenir Glass, and my step-father's death certificate.

How could I not sit down with a cup of tea and enjoy reading her trip diaries at the very least!

I confess that I gave in. I read her trip diaries. I glanced at the photos but fought the impulse to scan them and put them up in a Picassa Web Album or print them off for siblings. I spent a wonderful afternoon curled up in a chair, feeling like my mother was sitting in my living room telling me all about her adventures.

Now I have to go back to unpacking, sorting and organizing. I welcome any suggestions as to the best method of tackling the unpacking and sorting, but also how to archive and share the treasures with my siblings and other family members!

Packing Up A Life, Day 2

Day 1 of packing up my mother's belongings from her apartment was over. After my brother left my husband and I stayed another 2 hours to clear out the rest of the kitchen and the bathroom. Then it was off to our hotel to shower and change for supper and collapse into bed at 11 p.m.

I woke at 3 am, unable to sleep. Day 1 had passed in such a blur of activity and frantic sorting and packing that I really didn't have time to think about the circumstances and the emotional impact this was having on us. Objects that had been precious to my mother had been tossed in the garbage. Her earrings that she purchased on each of her many trips still dangled from her earring board on her dresser. I couldn't stop worrying about what we were going to do with those earrings!

On Day 1 the Writer's Group she was part of had invited us to attend a memorial service they were holding in mother's honour on Day 2 of our packing and sorting. My brother had a lawyer's appointment so could not go but I was honoured to be asked and told them I would be there. They asked if I would read the obituary I had written for mother, and also a poem that I found in her apartment on Day 1. Mother had written the poem for her group and it seemed fitting that it be read at the Service. Mother was a very reserved woman who did not share her emotions or feelings with others but her writing gave her that opportunity to allow her inner thoughts and feelings to shine through. Her poem touched me as it revealed a part of her I had not known. So I agreed to read it. All these thoughts kept me awake from 3 am on.

The service was lovely. Each of the women in her writing group shared their impressions of Joan (my mother). It was a unique opportunity for me to glimpse my mother through their eyes, as a friend rather than a mother. Then it was my turn. As I read her poem, I was overwhelmed and could not continue. But one of the women took over and finished it. It all seemed so fitting as mother's writing was extremely important to her. Here is her poem written when she was 90:

Heaven knows what destiny is in store for any of us
I am sure that God has our fate in his hands
I believe that at our birth our death is decided
And the date is already set
No matter what crisis we may go through
It makes no difference
When our time arrives we leave this life
And no amount of counsel will change it
The devil that is in each of us
Will not be able to change this
God will prevail this I firmly believe

Poem by Joan
2007

Then it was back up the apartment where my brother and my husband were busy sorting and packing. I wanted to finish up her office files. I had to read the title of each file folder so that I could either pack it in a box destined for my home or put it in my brother's executor pile. It was quite frustrating to have to bypass opening and reading such files as "My Life", "Trip to Russia", "Trip to China", "Friends", and so on. But I knew I would have lots of time to read and share with the rest of the family once I got everything home.

Day 2 was more emotional than Day 1. Whether it was fatigue or the fact that Day 2 was a slightly slower pace, thus there was more time to think about what we were doing, I do not know. But I felt very sad to think that 93 years of living was being sorted into "keep" "throw out" or "give to grandchildren" The apartment complex was planning a bazaar in a few weeks so we added "bazaar items" to our sorting piles.

Because we had so little time left before my husband and I had to head out on the long drive home, we decided that I would also take the little mementoes we hoped to distribute to grandchildren or great-grandchildren. It would be easier to pass those items on to family at a later date. At this point our SUV was almost full. We had 11 cardboard boxes, 2 large plastic storage tubs, and some smaller items already packed and in the vehicle. Now we had to find room for 2 more boxes of mementoes.

Finally we were done. The apartment was sorted and packed. Larger furniture that we did not want was set aside for the local thrift store. Neither Goodwill nor Salvation Army offered a pickup service and we could not deliver the items ourselves. The ladies had their bazaar items and a few smaller mementoes went to mother's closest friends in the building. Her life was now packed into those few cardboard boxes and tubs. It felt very unceremonious and I had to keep reminding myself that it was simply the natural course of living and dying.

Our last stop was to pick up mother's ashes. Such a small box. It seemed surreal, less than a week before she had been talking to us and laughing. Her ashes have come home with me for safekeeping until we can inter them.

I have also arranged to have my father's ashes disinterred and shipped to me so that he too can be interrred in Guelph with my mother. He has been waiting 49 years to go home and lie with his brothers, parents and grandparents in Woodlawn Cemetery in Guelph. Now everyone will be together.

We plan a Memorial in the spring or early summer when the weather is better and my son is back from Afghanistan. At that time we can say our farewells to our mother and our father, and celebrate their lives. Because packing up a life doesn't mean the person is gone and forgotten, it is a process of moving forward through the cycle of life and death. Mother will be remembered, her "treasures" will help family to think of her each time they look at an object she once held dear and now in their possession.

And now I have dozens of boxes to unpack and many more memories to be rekindled. I suspect there will be genealogy treasures in those boxes too.

Packing Up a Life

How do you pack up a life? That is what my brother and I had to do this past Monday and Tuesday. With my mother's passing last week, we had to clear out her 2 bedroom apartment.

Although tiny, her apartment was crammed full of her papers, writings, trip diaries, memoirs in progress, photo albums and all kinds of miscellaneous items. So my husband and I headed off to join my brother, knowing that we only had 2 half days and one evening to accomplish the task.

Mother had joined a writing group and was working on her memoirs when she died. Of course as a genealogist I could not bear the thought that these might be lost. I was determined to gather every scrap of paper I could find and take it home to sort through at my leisure. That way I could preserve and share it with others in the family.

I had not realized the enormity of the task. Papers and journals and binders full of notes, were everywhere. I counted 25 large 3 ring binders chock full of writing and printed genealogy reports. I packed 7 photo albums then my brother found hundreds of loose photos stuffed into large envelopes in her basement storage locker. Mother had an office where she wrote on her computer late into the night. Beside her desk were 2 large filing cabinets (4 drawers) full of file folders. One extra filing drawer was part of her desk and when I started in the office I found another rolling cabinet also full of files.

So we organized ourselves - my husband would tackle the kitchen. A small job we thought - perhaps an hour tops to finish it. Hah! The kitchen took hubby almost 7 hours to sort and empty out.

My brother was to sort larger items of furniture and go through mother's clothes and dresser drawers. That was very difficult, it is a sad thing to look through pockets and pack your mother's favourite outfits into bags for Goodwill.

My job was to gather all the file folders, photo albums and looose papers. At first I felt intrusive and very uncomfortable about "prying" as I skimmed papers to know whether it was something I should take or something that my brother, as executor, needed.

Partway through our packing we were surprised by the arrival of two women who had been friends of mother's and in her writing group. We had a lovely talk with them, it was very nice to hear them talk about our mom and how much they enjoyed having her in the group and as a friend. They invited us to join them the next day for a service they were having in honour of our mother.

Many of the people living in the apartment building dropped by to offer condolences or have a chat about mother and her impact on them. It was quite heartwarming to hear their stories and to realize how well they treated her.

Calling it a day at 7:30 pm we looked around and felt that we were in a worse mess than when we had started. We had boxes ready for our vehicle and my husband had taken out load after load of food items (some with expiry dates of 1995!!) to the garbage but it looked like we had hardly made a dent. We left feeling a bit depressed both at the seemingly never-ending job ahead, and at the realization that we were packing up a life. Once packed it would be over. A life lived, now gone.

I'll talk about Packing Up a Life, Day 2 in tomorrow's blog post.

Joan McGinnis 2 Sept 1916-22 Jan 2009

My mother
Joan McGinnis
2 Sept 1916-22 Jan 2009



My mother passed away early this morning. I saw her yesterday in the hospital. When I went to kiss her goodbye, it was difficult to manouever around her tubes and machines. She tried to raise her head, and my glasses hit her cheek. She laughed at our bumping of heads. As I left she smiled and waved. I'm glad I have that nice last memory of her. This is her obituary:

Joan Dorien Edith McGinnis passed away peacefully in Lakeridge Health Hospital in Bowmanville Ontario on Thursday January 22, 2009. She was 92 years old. Born in Guelph Ontario on 2 September 1916 to parents Charles Fuller & Ruth Simpson, she married Cecil McGinnis (who predeceased her in 1960) in Guelph in 1936.

Joan moved to Ajax Ontario and worked in the Munitions Factory during WW2, then as a Medical Secretary. She later lived in a Winnebago with her mother and sister Lillian, travelling throughout Canada and USA. In later years she moved to British Columbia with her companion Godfrey Harwood (who pre-deceased her in 1994), then returned to Whitby Ontario where she lived with her sister Lillian Bonar (who pre-deceased her in 2004). Joan lived on her own in an apartment in Whitby until her death. In recent years Joan joined a Writing Club and was working on her memoirs when she fell ill.

At age 80, Joan became an avid traveller and journeyed to many places including Australia, China, S. Africa, Russia and England. On her last trip to Australia at age 85 she hiked and camped in the Australian outback. Joan lived life to the fullest and leaves behind 2 sons Larry & David, 2 daughters Charleen & Lorine, a younger sister Eileen and an uncle Walter. Her grandchildren and great-grandchildren are numerous.