A Hundred Memorable Moments
Thursday, March 9, 2017
My everyweek life includes five trips a week to drive a grandchild or a grandchild’s carpool 35 miles to their high school several towns to the west. My spring break at work meant I would have a little more time for myself, but that the driving would preclude any spring break travel. Then I learned the high school was closed on Thursday and Friday. Yeah! My spring break would really be a break.
I’ve been researching my genealogy in an attempt to find my biological father. My DNA test and the resulting matches indicate he was from Tennessee. Or California, or Alabama, or Texas. The researcher with whom I’m working and I dig and dig and dig, and all we uncover is more possibilities. So a trip to Gloucester, where I presume I was conceived, would give me the opportunity to dig into research materials that are unavailable online.
As soon as I realized a travel opportunity existed, and as soon as the Jazzman said he didn’t mind if I left him alone for a weekend, I made flight, HomeAway.com, and Hertz reservations, and contacted a few acquaintances for face-to-face first meetings. At 7:00 a.m. on Thursday, I left home and headed to the Pittsburgh airport, having to deal with a major accident on I-376 that forced everyone off and onto country back roads, then highway construction near the Ohio River bridge in Beaver Valley. For a 10:00 a.m. flight, I arrived with less than an hour before boarding! Once again, I’m so glad the Jazzman and I registered for Global Entry, which automatically gives us TSA PreCheck for every flight. After a few minutes of sitting at the gate, I was on my way to D.C., where I gazed out the window of the plane at my beloved city, then quickly boarded another plane and continued on to Boston. As we neared Boston, the 40-ish man next to me and I exchanged some thoughts about the flight and about Boston. I told him why I was visiting the area, and he said he was adopted, too. He had found his parents ten years ago. Such a small world.
I picked up my rental car and headed out, relying on my iPhone GPS to guide me. Alas, new phone and new headphones, and the GPS wasn’t talking to me. (Need to disconnect your Bluetooth headphones, Dummy.) Because of that, I missed the turn onto I-93 and ended up going more than ten miles out of my way and adding probably 30 minutes to my drive, given all the traffic. After getting on the correct road and still being overwhelmed by the traffic, I got off the interstate and went to to take the coast road out to Cape Ann. Along the way, I passed through the town of Beverly and right by the college my sister Debbie had attended, Endicott College. Of course I had to drive through the campus and take a few pictures to send to her. Continuing along, I passed through the town of Manchester by the Sea and noted the lovely-looking restaurant named “Essen.” (All my German-speaking friends will enjoy that name.) I soon saw a sign to the village of Magnolia. As I’ve been digging for names of fisherman and master mariners in Gloucester, I’ve noted that many lived in Magnolia, so I had to turn off 128 to explore that place. I was in heaven at each glimpse of the ocean along the road.
Soon I saw the Gloucester city limit sign. I pulled to the side of the road by a park and looked up the address of the house where my birthmother was living in the 40s, plugged it into my GPS, and went to see that house. To the best of my knowledge, it was only Gertrude and her brother, Raymond, living together during that time. Each time I saw their address in the city directory, I envisioned the house to be a small apartment, maybe in a two-story, four-unit apartment building, probably even a large house converted into rental united. But no. It is a three-bedroom house. A rather large house for a brother and sister to be sharing in the 40s. Later on during the visit, I was able to look at a 1950 city directory that listed all the addresses in the city and showed who lived at each. It was only Gertrude and Raymond living there. First new knowledge of the trip.
Resetting my GPS to the Sawyer Free Library, I went to see what research materials were available to me in the reference section. The delightful reference librarian was a young woman named AnnaKatherine, who also was adopted. She said she hadn’t been interested in searching for her biological parents, but her husband couldn’t stand for a mystery to go unsolved, so he had dug out all the information for her. Another serendipitous moment. After spending half an hour with AnnaKatherine and discussing possibilities, I told her I’d be back in the morning and went to meet my landlady at an elderly house along the harbor with an attached art and antique shoppe.
The homeowner, Joan, and her niece were just heading out for dinner. 
Joan suggested I might want to try Seaport Grille, where they were dining. As luck would have it, Thursday night’s special was half-price lobster rolls. Normally Market Price (fluctuating around $25.00), I could enjoy this specialty for $12.95. Imagine my delight when I sat down at my table and noticed they served my fave La Crema Chardonnay. And who could pass up Key Lime pie for dessert? This serving was enough for four people, so I made it last for three days.
Long day almost over. Went back, donned my jammies, and snuggled with my laptop in bed, trying to add a few more nodes to my Kelly family tree, with the continual objective of getting closer to finding my birthfather. I was asleep by 9:00.
Woke at my usual 5:00 a.m. and pulled my laptop into bed to work on the tree again. I had in my mind that the library opened at 10:00, so I took my time at starting my day. I asked Google Maps for breakfast suggestions, and visited Lee’s, a local joint extradinaire. Had a scrambled egg, an order of bacon, and an orange-cranberry muffin from the incredible Italian bakery in town. After lingering over my iPad and my cup of tea, I got to the library around 10:15, when I noticed their hours on the door and realized they had been open since 8:30. Oh well. I had AnnaKatherine get me the 1949 and 1950 editions of the Master Mariners’ Hand Book, scanned the two small journals, and saw no names that came off my list. After an hour, ran back to my room to sink my freezing feet into a tub of hot water, then went again to Seaport Grille to meet another friend for lunch.
Judy Harling emailed me a couple of months ago to ask about my family tree, as her brother, Paul, and I were noted as second cousins. I told her I was Gertrude’s daughter, and that I had found another daughter of Gertrude, my half-sister Debbie. She quickly responded that she had communicated with one of Gertrude’s daughters back in the 80s when she was working in the City Clerk’s office. Oh my gosh. This was the woman whose name I had been trying to remember for at least twenty years. She knew my mother. She had sent me a picture in 1985 or so, a picture of my mother. It was the first picture I had ever seen of my mother. Since moving to Youngstown, I have been unable to find that picture (along with a bunch of my genealogy papers). But what a thrill to find Judy again and to have the opportunity to meet her in person. We had a lovely time chatting. She shared lots of stories and information about my Gloucester family.
As we were finishing lunch, she asked if I’d like to go by her brother Paul’s museum and meet him. “Yes” was absolutely the right answer.
Paul Harling. What a treasure this man is. And we’re cousins! Aren’t I lucky?! Paul has a little museum of diving called “The Dive Locker.” It’s a treasure trove of dive suits and paraphernalia, of wonders recovered from the deep. I didn’t know the significance of half the things I saw, but I was awed. He had recoveries from the Andrea Gail and other memories of the movie, “The Perfect Storm.” I was entranced by a hand-drawn chessboard and its story:
After the filming of “The Perfect Storm,” the ship that was used in the filming made a transatlantic crossing to England to publicize the movie. It was November, and the crew expected a rough crossing. But the seas were like glass, and the crew had nothing to do. Bored out of their minds, they created a chess board from the materials at hand – pencils, a deck of playing cards, a drill, and a piece of plywood. The squares are drawn and colored in with pencil. The different pieces are designated with cutouts from cards, oatmeal boxes, and other readily available accessories. Where there’s a will, there’s a way!!
Paul is a big train aficionado. He recalls growing up around Boston and watching the steam train chug up the valley into the city. He tells a great story about getting to ride in the last steam engine that rolled to the end of the line in Boston on the day before the diesel engines were rolled out. He has handcrafted several model trains and has them on display at the museum. I can’t wait until the day I can bring the Jazzman to Gloucester and show him Paul’s museum. Fascinating!
You can google “dive locker, gloucester” to read more tales of visits to Paul’s little gem of a museum. I found and loved this review from a diving equipment manufacturer, Morse Diving, Inc.
It snowed on and off all day. After lunch with Judy and the museum visit, I headed back to my room to warm up and start this account of my trip. At dinner time I picked up Marge and we headed to Gloucester House for dinner.
Back to room, dig into genealoty some more and fall asleep by 9:00.
Saturday, wake at 3:00! Work on genealogy for two hours. Able to fall back to sleep. Wake around 7:00. To Zeke’s for late breakfast.
Cape Ann Museum. Talk to associate in archives department. Review a folder marked “Hodgkins.” See one page with my Hodgkins relatives on it, and lots of articles about interesting people. Nothing new to search for birthfather. GWill compile a list of possible surnames when I get home and send it to the head archivist.
Head out to do what I love most – drive around back roads.
Stopped at several shops to see if they had any warm caps, but they’re all stocking spring apparel now, so nothing. Drive out on 128 South to Rockport, then back along 127A toward Gloucester. At every beautiful vista out across Boston Bay, I audibly said “Wow!” to myself. I must have said it 75 times along this drive. Drove out on Rocky Neck, which is an artists’ colony, and made mental notes of all the things I want to show and share with Debbie when we return in June. Then back to Gloucester, to my room, and some computer time.
Made reservations for early dinner at Duckworth’s Bistrot, a five-star restaurant that’s just across the street from Marge’s house. This was the meal of the trip. This resturant specializes in locally sourced good and fresh, fresh everything. We started with a shared bowl of incredible mushroom soup. Thick, creamy, garnished with a dollop of sliced mushrooms that appeared to have been sautéed in olive oil. We had both ordered the same entrée, chicken pot pie. Oh, my happy taste buds! It was served in a darling little copper saucepan, probably 4″ across, with a long handle. It had obviously just emerged from the oven. There was a 3″ circle of puff pastry adorning the top of the pie, which included tender, juicy chicken meat, mushrooms, carrots, brussels sprouts, and little branches of cauliflower, and was accompanied by creamy and wonderful mashed potatoes. I couldn’t stop commenting on how delicious the dish was. And to finish, there was a fabulous lemon pie topped with lemon curd and a dollop of whipped cream. We had a lovely time talking and getting to know each other better, sharing our life stories. What a delightful evening and lovely way to end the trip.
Back to the room, watch the news and a riveting filmed intro to a new play about the Boston Marathon bombing that’s opening in Boston in a couple of weeks. And before 9:00 I was turning out my light, knowing the daylight savings clock would rob me of an hour and I needed to get on the road early to get to the airport.
Again consulting Google Maps for nearby breakfast places, I chose Two Sisters on Washington. A scrambled egg, two slices of French toast made from cinnamon raisin bread, and my tea from a mug that said, “Two Sisters.” How appropriate for my final meal in Gloucester. I smiled during the entire meal.