My parents were 40 when I was born and my grandparents were in their mid to late 60s. Thus, by the time I was 5 I had lost one grandparent, my maternal grandfather, and the others seemed "old" to me. Another reason why they seemed old was because, well, that generation was old by the time they were in their 60s. Unlike myself who, I hope, is energetic and, well, young.
My paternal grandparents both came from Dundee, Scotland in the early 1900s. Grandma was born in 1878, Grandpa in 1879. My grandmother was an only child and I think a bit wild. When I started delving into family history in my 30s, I discovered that she had had an illegitimate daughter who was brought up by my great grandmother. My father claimed that he had always been told she was his cousin but, honestly, I think he knew in his heart of hearts that Davina was his half sister. My grandmother was quite beautiful as a young woman and my grandfather, who lived a few blocks away from her and her parents in Dundee, was in love with her for years. My grandfather was a quiet man who came from a large family. He had two older sisters, a younger sister and four younger brothers. My great grandfather was a dour man, who used to preach on street corners. Kind of hell and brimstone. Grandpa was a wonderful carpenter and worked on the docks in Dundee. Around 1906 he decided to emigrate to Montreal, Canada, to work as a ship's carpenter on the docks there. I don't know his exact date of emigration as I can't find any records online although I found my grandmother's record.
Once he'd arrived and was somewhat established, he wrote my grandmother and asked her if she would come to Montreal and marry him. Which she did, arriving on July 28, 1907 and marrying my grandfather ten days later, on August 5th. I could make up all kinds of romantic stories about that, that perhaps my great grandparents did not approve of my grandmother so that is why my grandfather went to Canada, so that he could marry the woman he loved. But I don't know that--I just had my aunt's word that Grandpa adored Grandma and Grandma let him. Their first child died at less than a year old and my father wasn't born until 1911 so I would think that Grandma may have had some "issues." It is interesting to me that while three of my grandparents came from large families, both my mother and father had only one sibling. As my sister once said, my grandparents either had fertility problems or knew more about birth control back then than we think they did.
My paternal grandparents were never very well off. Dad tended to blame that on my grandmother who became very homesick in 1919 and insisted on returning to Scotland. She also happened to be pregnant with my Aunt Phyllis. She, with my father as a 7 year old boy, sailed over to Liverpool in June of 1919. She was sick most of the journey over, which enabled my father to explore the ship to his heart's content, an experience that still brought a smile to his face 70 years later when he would talk about it. Dad remembered arriving at Liverpool docks with so many people milling about that Grandma was quite overwhelmed. He remembered a soldier (WWI had only ended five months earlier and soldiers were still returning and relocating) taking Grandma by the arm and saying "Here, mum, you sit down and take a cup of tea with the lad and catch your breath." Dad and Grandma travelled (by train I guess) to Dundee where they stayed with my great grandmother and Davina. Dad remembered how cold the flat was, what a change living in Scotland was from their life in Canada. Grandma soon started comparing life in Canada to life in Scotland and finally my great grandmother told her "If you like Canada so well, why don't you go back?"
Now, here is where my father's memory diverges from what I have discovered in researching genealogical records. Unfortunately, Dad is no longer around so I could check it out with him. Dad always said that they stayed in Scotland for at least a year and that Grandpa finally came over to meet them, learning only when he got there that Grandma wanted to go back to Canada. That he had given up his job to return to Scotland and things were not as good in Canada when he returned. However, when I look at immigration/emigration records, Dad and Grandma, after staying in Scotland for a year and Grandma giving birth to Aunt Phyllis in October of 1919, did leave Scotland in June 1920. But there is no record of Grandpa being with them on board ship and his Canadian immigration document says that he is "joining father" in Canada. So either Grandpa came over for a short time while they were in Scotland and then returned to Canada ahead of them or he never came over at all. I have searched Ancestry's immigration/emigration records and just can't find any mention of any of Grandpa's sea crossings. Ironically, the same is true for my maternal grandfather. I wonder if they came over on ships that haven't submitted its manifests for digitizing yet.
At any rate, I feel somewhat more sympathetically to Grandma about her wanting to go "hame" to Scotland and then wanting to go back than Dad did. I am a wanderer who has had several emotional homes myself. I love Montreal, I love England, I love where I am currently living in Arizona. Sometimes (in Fall and Spring) I want to go back to Montreal, buy a loft in Old Montreal and live there. Sometimes I want to buy an old cottage in England and live there a la Miss Marple (except my husband says he will come too) for the rest of my life, growing a garden and enjoying the history. And then, most times, I enjoy my quiet corner of Arizona: the sun, the warmth and the comfort.
But back to my grandparents. Apart from the Montreal-Dundee-Montreal adventure, I know very little else about them. There was a bit of a family feud between my parents. Dad didn't like my mother's parents and by the time I came along, the feud had grown stronger. Dad was against my grandparents visiting and Mom retaliated by saying if her parents weren't welcome, then neither were his. Thus, the only times I saw my grandparents were when the respective parent took me to visit, usually at Christmas.
I found my paternal grandparents' speech hard to understand. The Dundonian dialect is very similar to Glaswegian, almost a foreign language to someone used to the neutral Canadian accents of my parents. My grandfather died in 1962, when I was 10. He was 83 and, according to my father (I wonder sometimes whether he liked my grandmother at all) had been sent to the corner store on a blustery December evening by my unfeeling grandma to get her some milk. Grandpa was a small man, rather myopic (see photo below) and was hit by a car while crossing busy Hochelaga, near where they lived. Although Dad tried to get compensation (hmmm), it was ruled that because of the dark and the weather, it wasn't the driver's fault that he didn't see Grandpa.
Grandma lived another six years, part of the time with my aunt and, for the last several years of her life, in a private nursing home that I have depressing memories about. Old people in beds in common areas, just lying there, waiting to die. I remember one of the last times I saw Grandma, she stared blearily at me, gave a lovely smile but clearly didn't know who I was. She died on her 90th birthday in 1969.
What do I wish I had known about my grandparents? Well, I wish I had known what made them happy, what made them sad. I wish I knew why they didn't want their children, their grandchildren, to know about the family back in Scotland. My father said that my grandparents burned all of the letters that they received. Dad said he asked my grandfather once why he was doing that and he said that it was nobody's business but his own. I wish I had known what they thought of me, what they hoped for me. These are the things I try to communicate to MY grandchildren. And why I write this blog.
Here are some photos of Grandma and Grandpa Campbell:
My paternal grandparents both came from Dundee, Scotland in the early 1900s. Grandma was born in 1878, Grandpa in 1879. My grandmother was an only child and I think a bit wild. When I started delving into family history in my 30s, I discovered that she had had an illegitimate daughter who was brought up by my great grandmother. My father claimed that he had always been told she was his cousin but, honestly, I think he knew in his heart of hearts that Davina was his half sister. My grandmother was quite beautiful as a young woman and my grandfather, who lived a few blocks away from her and her parents in Dundee, was in love with her for years. My grandfather was a quiet man who came from a large family. He had two older sisters, a younger sister and four younger brothers. My great grandfather was a dour man, who used to preach on street corners. Kind of hell and brimstone. Grandpa was a wonderful carpenter and worked on the docks in Dundee. Around 1906 he decided to emigrate to Montreal, Canada, to work as a ship's carpenter on the docks there. I don't know his exact date of emigration as I can't find any records online although I found my grandmother's record.
Once he'd arrived and was somewhat established, he wrote my grandmother and asked her if she would come to Montreal and marry him. Which she did, arriving on July 28, 1907 and marrying my grandfather ten days later, on August 5th. I could make up all kinds of romantic stories about that, that perhaps my great grandparents did not approve of my grandmother so that is why my grandfather went to Canada, so that he could marry the woman he loved. But I don't know that--I just had my aunt's word that Grandpa adored Grandma and Grandma let him. Their first child died at less than a year old and my father wasn't born until 1911 so I would think that Grandma may have had some "issues." It is interesting to me that while three of my grandparents came from large families, both my mother and father had only one sibling. As my sister once said, my grandparents either had fertility problems or knew more about birth control back then than we think they did.
My paternal grandparents were never very well off. Dad tended to blame that on my grandmother who became very homesick in 1919 and insisted on returning to Scotland. She also happened to be pregnant with my Aunt Phyllis. She, with my father as a 7 year old boy, sailed over to Liverpool in June of 1919. She was sick most of the journey over, which enabled my father to explore the ship to his heart's content, an experience that still brought a smile to his face 70 years later when he would talk about it. Dad remembered arriving at Liverpool docks with so many people milling about that Grandma was quite overwhelmed. He remembered a soldier (WWI had only ended five months earlier and soldiers were still returning and relocating) taking Grandma by the arm and saying "Here, mum, you sit down and take a cup of tea with the lad and catch your breath." Dad and Grandma travelled (by train I guess) to Dundee where they stayed with my great grandmother and Davina. Dad remembered how cold the flat was, what a change living in Scotland was from their life in Canada. Grandma soon started comparing life in Canada to life in Scotland and finally my great grandmother told her "If you like Canada so well, why don't you go back?"
Now, here is where my father's memory diverges from what I have discovered in researching genealogical records. Unfortunately, Dad is no longer around so I could check it out with him. Dad always said that they stayed in Scotland for at least a year and that Grandpa finally came over to meet them, learning only when he got there that Grandma wanted to go back to Canada. That he had given up his job to return to Scotland and things were not as good in Canada when he returned. However, when I look at immigration/emigration records, Dad and Grandma, after staying in Scotland for a year and Grandma giving birth to Aunt Phyllis in October of 1919, did leave Scotland in June 1920. But there is no record of Grandpa being with them on board ship and his Canadian immigration document says that he is "joining father" in Canada. So either Grandpa came over for a short time while they were in Scotland and then returned to Canada ahead of them or he never came over at all. I have searched Ancestry's immigration/emigration records and just can't find any mention of any of Grandpa's sea crossings. Ironically, the same is true for my maternal grandfather. I wonder if they came over on ships that haven't submitted its manifests for digitizing yet.
At any rate, I feel somewhat more sympathetically to Grandma about her wanting to go "hame" to Scotland and then wanting to go back than Dad did. I am a wanderer who has had several emotional homes myself. I love Montreal, I love England, I love where I am currently living in Arizona. Sometimes (in Fall and Spring) I want to go back to Montreal, buy a loft in Old Montreal and live there. Sometimes I want to buy an old cottage in England and live there a la Miss Marple (except my husband says he will come too) for the rest of my life, growing a garden and enjoying the history. And then, most times, I enjoy my quiet corner of Arizona: the sun, the warmth and the comfort.
But back to my grandparents. Apart from the Montreal-Dundee-Montreal adventure, I know very little else about them. There was a bit of a family feud between my parents. Dad didn't like my mother's parents and by the time I came along, the feud had grown stronger. Dad was against my grandparents visiting and Mom retaliated by saying if her parents weren't welcome, then neither were his. Thus, the only times I saw my grandparents were when the respective parent took me to visit, usually at Christmas.
I found my paternal grandparents' speech hard to understand. The Dundonian dialect is very similar to Glaswegian, almost a foreign language to someone used to the neutral Canadian accents of my parents. My grandfather died in 1962, when I was 10. He was 83 and, according to my father (I wonder sometimes whether he liked my grandmother at all) had been sent to the corner store on a blustery December evening by my unfeeling grandma to get her some milk. Grandpa was a small man, rather myopic (see photo below) and was hit by a car while crossing busy Hochelaga, near where they lived. Although Dad tried to get compensation (hmmm), it was ruled that because of the dark and the weather, it wasn't the driver's fault that he didn't see Grandpa.
Grandma lived another six years, part of the time with my aunt and, for the last several years of her life, in a private nursing home that I have depressing memories about. Old people in beds in common areas, just lying there, waiting to die. I remember one of the last times I saw Grandma, she stared blearily at me, gave a lovely smile but clearly didn't know who I was. She died on her 90th birthday in 1969.
What do I wish I had known about my grandparents? Well, I wish I had known what made them happy, what made them sad. I wish I knew why they didn't want their children, their grandchildren, to know about the family back in Scotland. My father said that my grandparents burned all of the letters that they received. Dad said he asked my grandfather once why he was doing that and he said that it was nobody's business but his own. I wish I had known what they thought of me, what they hoped for me. These are the things I try to communicate to MY grandchildren. And why I write this blog.
Here are some photos of Grandma and Grandpa Campbell:
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| Annie Young Wighton Campbell as a young woman |
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| Donald Peter Campbell as a young man |
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| Dad and Grandma's "passport" photos, taken in 1920 |
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| Grandma and Grandpa's Golden Wedding anniversary; renewing vows (probably Grandma's idea), taken around 1958 |
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