Solving Riddles…

I have 64 fourth-great grandparents, all with different surnames.  So do you.  Through my searches on Ancestry, aided by DNA testing, and Wikitree, and Gedmatch, I have been able to positively identify 29 of them, all born between 1740 and 1784 somewhere in the UK.

On my recent trip to Scotland I tried to track down something about one of these couples, John Riddle and Margaret Turnbull,  great, great, great, great grandparents on my Mom’s side of the family. (The photo accompanying this post has been identified as being this fine Scottish Borders couple).

This September, I stayed for a few nights in Melrose, a small town in the Borders District of Scotland and site of the Melrose Abbey.   I knew that this couple had lived in that vicinity, having been born just a few kilometers away. Coincidentally, the Crinklaw’s on my Dad’s side of the family also lived in this area.  I have written about them before and showed iconic photos of old Betsy Crinklaw, my third great grandmother and talked about her father’s fabled association with Sir Walter Scott, whose estate still exists and is a tourist attraction a short distance from Melrose.

Melrose Abbey pano 1

Melrose Abbey was built in the late 1300’s and  even when John and Margaret lived in Melrose, part of the Abbey was still in use as a parish church.  They would have walked these grounds.

I had hoped to find a gravestone from the Riddle couple but, alas, that was a bit of a wild goose-chase.  I saw lots of Riddle’s and Turnbull’s in the many graveyards I visited but none housed these relatives. It turns out that the Turnbull name had originated nearby,  assigned to a young man who saved Robert the Bruce sometime in the 1300’s from an attacking bull. He was named Turner of the Bull ( Turn-e-bull, eventually shortened to Turnbull) and given land.  There is even a statue commemorating this event in nearby Hawick (pronounced Hoyik). There is also a little hamlet named Riddell.  The Riddle name gets changed in the records from Riddle to Riddell with the wind so that makes some of the tracking a bit more difficult.

John Riddell Baptismal record

John Riddle/Riddell was born in Hobkirk, Scotland  on December 20, 1784 and baptized there along with three of his older siblings on December 28 (see the handwritten baptismal record)  was a shepherd, living at at Wauchope Farm, near Hobkirk. For more than 30 years he was a shepherd and spent some of his time fathering a large family.   In his later years, he rented a farm  not far from Walter Scott’s Abbotsford.   I was able to find this on old maps and correlate it with new maps of the area and tracked it down. It is now a running track sports field on the edge of Melrose.

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Cavers church.  Site of the church where Margaret Turnbull was baptized in 1777.

Robert married Margaret Turnbull in 1799.  He was only 16 and she was a mature 22.  Margaret was born near Hawick and  was baptized in the Cavers church in 1777.  I foumd that church which is on a narrow road out in the country with rolling hills and grazing sheep surrounding it one Sunday afternoon.  There are still some stones from the original church on that site as part of the building which has been renovated a few times in the 240 years since little Margaret was baptized there.

John and Margaret subsequently had 13 children, one of whom,  my thrice great grandfather, Robert S. Riddell, immigrated to Canada and is buried in Kirkwall Cemetery near Cambridge Ontario (and one concession over from the African Lion Safari).   Others in the family went to New Zealand and through finding DNA links, I have been happy to be able to correspond by email with two of them.

John died at Berryhall Farm on May 9, 1851 at the age of 66.   His wife, Margaret outlived him by 10 years and died in St Boswells, a stone’s throw from Melrose on January 21, 1862.  I have found the written record of her death.

Margaret Riddell death record

I thought I was on track to find them in the Bowden cemetery but got waylaid looking for them in another church yard where there were, indeed, Turnbull’s and Riddell’s but not this couple.  I guess I will have to go back! Many of the gravestones in these burial grounds are covered in moss or worn flat making the task of finding them more difficult.

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This is purported to be a photograph of John Riddle (shepherd) and Margaret Turnbull Riddle.     I have no way of  confirming if this is factual but for the sake of my sanity, I will believe it.                                                                 The photographer is Duncan Menzies, Albert Place, Abbotsford Road, Galasheils, Scotland.                  Photo was taken less than 2 km from the home of Sir Walter Scott and within a couple of kilometres of where John and Margaret lived with certainty (Berryhall Farm,  Melrose).

 

Each one of those 64 fourth-great grandparents gave me, on average,  1.5% of my genetic make up so theoretically 3% of my being is from this couple.  And it is measurable and I can even tell you which chromosomes contain their material. I know for certain that segments of my chromosome 6, 7, 10 and 21 came from them because I share (as do my kids) certain segments of these chromosomes exactly with other descendants of these relatives – too many long continuous segments to be coincidental and we all have confirmed that this couple were remote ancestors.   Fragments on these  chromosomes are specific little bits passed down from John and Margaret, something measurable and finite from these relatives from over 200 years ago that exists within me today.  Although we all know that we inherited our DNA from our ancestors, the fact that it is measurable and traceable and finite is something that for me is quite astounding.

RIddell links

Long time running…

I was never really a huge fan of The Tragically Hip.  I didn’t not like them but I never caught on to their genre and lyrics like so many others did.   I think I was at the edge of a previous generation, more Beach Boys and Beatles. (I was reassured to learn that Gord Downie was a closet fan of the Bee Gees.)

But I did recognize their talents and knew there must be something to their music that appealed so broadly to the generation that followed me.  I did, however, join the rest of Canada Day on August 20, 2017 to celebrate this phenomenonal and truly Canadian  band.

Last weekend I was eager to see the documentary about their 2016 tour – Long Time Running.   It has been shown at TIFF and other film festivals with good reviews and had a few showings at Kingston’s Screening Room this week.

I was surprised what I got from this film.   Someone asked me if it was kind of sad.   Absolutely, it was not.  It was actually a very inspiring and positive.  It goes through the diagnosis of “terminal” brain cancer for the lead member,  Gord Downie,  his initial treatments and struggles to remember things and put sentences together after having his temporal lobe and hippocampus removed surgically and 30 radiation treatments.  (The surgeon, by the way, a Kingston neurosurgeon).

Despite this, Gord was keen to go on tour with the band once more.  Obviously the others were a bit skeptical if this would work but, no spoiler here, they finished the tour across Canada, culminating in the August 20 concert in Kingston, broadcast all across Canada and drawing thousands to Kingston, including our Prime Minister.

It was interesting to see the backstage preparations and angst about this tour but I got a lot of messages from this film that surprised me.

Several themes developed for me.

1.  Never give up.   This guy was sort of written off by a lot of people and was initially in no shape to perform, let along tackle a cross country tour.   But he did.  In doing so, he earned a lot of respect from the public, drew attention to cancer treatment and research, highlighted the plight of Canadian First Nations people and entertained thousands.  Make that hundreds of thousands.  Incredible really.   Maybe his cognitive deficits from his surgery and treatment made him naively bold or brave or fixated.  But what an example to set.   I am sure that his fortitude and positivity has helped many people who have been struck by cancer. And it was a gift to Hip fans to be able to celebrate their 30 year run before it came to a crashing close.

2.  The expression of true friendship.   These guys had worked together for 30 years and were a real team.  I am sure that there were bumps along the way, but it was incredible that Downie’s band-mates dug in and just supported his dream.  It was a huge risk.  Anything could happen.  It could have turned out to be a disaster.   It was incredibly touching to see them kiss each other – on the lips – and hug each other and genuinely show real love to each other prior to each performance. This is the kind of love that is meant by the Greek word, Agape.*  They were all vulnerable and all a team with a mission.  It seemed that egos were set aside.  You hear about this kind of teamwork and friendship but rarely see it so obviously.  It was very intimate material to be shared publicly.   But this support was also quite evident in their performances.   Another lesson for us all.  Downie’s diagnosis and fate overshadowed the rest of the band but they deserve great respect and accolades for helping their friend live out his dream.

3.  This was just so…Canadian.  The whole country was moved by this story.  We all wanted to be part of it.   And thousands were.   Fans bought tickets both to be entertained but also to support this band that was so loved.   And they were also ready for anything.   It could all be cancelled in a moment.  Or fall apart in the middle of a performance.   But no one cared about that.  This was about being part of this team and joining in to keep it going.

4.  It was a lesson in closure.  All good things come to an end.   Concerts, vacations, childhood, holidays, friendships , life.  Things come to an end.  It’s natural. It helps to deal with that fact if we learn to accept it with some stoicism and dignity.   It is helpful to fondly remember good times past and friends and family who have departed.  And maybe it is helpful to others if we acknowledge the end of something, celebrate and share our acceptance.   I think this is what Gord Downie and the Hip did, most graciously and unselfishly.

Little did I know when I wrote this earlier in the week that Gord Downie would die last night, October 17, 2017.  It makes all of the above lessons more poignant and pertinent today.

I took my 15 year old granddaughter to the show on Saturday and we went early because I thought it would be packed.  There were only about 10 people in the audience!  I do hope that more people see this show as it not only provides some concert-like Hip music but it caused me to reflect on many other things – life in general.   I think that is what Gord Downie (and his band-mates) would have liked.

The Hip concert on August 20, 2016 in Kingston was a celebration of the past and acknowledgement of an ending.

Hip Concert pano

* Agape – Agape love involves faithfulness, commitment, and an act of the will. It is distinguished from the other types of love by its lofty moral nature and strong character. Agape love is beautifully described in the Bible.

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;  it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.  Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”  1 Corinthians 13 4-7.

 

Scotland – September 2017

Apple has conveniently helped in selecting photos of my recent trip to Scotland off my iPad and put them into a nice little 2 minute video.  So here it is – a quick selection of images from my recent 2 week trip to Edinburgh, Skye, the Highlands and the Borders district in September.

October 16, 1917 – 100 years ago today

My penchant for finding my ancestors has become a bit of an obsession. Not sure why.   And I don’t have to go all the way to Scotland to chase up some reminiscences.

Last weekend I was in Toronto and staying at a hotel near the Annex district.  For some reason I remembered that my grandfather,  Joseph Alison Vardon,  his parents and his sisters, had lived somewhere in that area when he was younger.

I happened to have found a copy of my grandfather’s record of recruitment when he was drafted into the army just shortly after his 20th birthday, on October 16, 1917, exactly 100 years ago. From this document, I discovered that his address then was 188 Delaware Ave in Toronto, about a ten minute walk from where I was staying.gpc016-645604a

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My grandfather lived in this house when he was conscripted into military service in 1917.

So, on Sunday morning, I wandered down to this neighbourhood,  found the house (upgraded but still the original three story house) and stood outside it wondering if my grandfather’s bedroom was in the dormer on the top floor and how many times he might have walked down that street as a teenager.   I went down to the corner of Bloor and Delaware and sat for half an hour on a cement bench by the street, conjuring up images of streetcars going by on Bloor,  old model cars, people on bicycles.

 

 

Black horse copy

I looked across the street at an old building that is now called the Black Horse Restaurant and Bar and knew that building (built in 1892) was there when my grandfather lived in the neighbourhood.  The building has a horse’s head sculpture coming out of the second floor. It was originally built as a store.  Did he ever go in there? How many times did he look at that horse’s head?

 

 

I thought about my grandfather signing up to go to war in Europe.  A boy, heading off to battle.  I wished that I had taken the time or the interest when I was younger to ask him about those experiences.

As I sat there, thinking about my grandfather, I wondered if my own grandchildren would, some day, 50 years from now,  sit on a bench somewhere and remember me in a similarly curious and fond way.  I hope so.

Joseph Allison Vardon 1917

This was my grandfather, Joseph Vardon – exactly 100 years ago – aged 20 – going off to WW I. 

 

The Geddes name in Scottish history

Maybe it is because I am getting closer to being an historic figure myself that I have become very interested in my ancestral background. In September, I  traveled to Scotland, a trip that was, in part, inspired by the option of exploring parts of the country where my forefathers once lived and roamed.

My trip started in  Edinburg where my first stop, after an overnight flight from Toronto, was at St Giles Cathedral.

Book_of_common_prayer_Scotland_1637I revisited the place where Jenny Geddes (not my niece, the other one) threw a stool (a wooden one, not the other kind) at the Pastor who was attempting to read from the Common Book of Prayer that was being introduced (forcefully) on the Scottish Church by Charles I at St Giles in July, 1637.

Legend (Or “constant oral tradition” as the plaque says) affirms that Jenny Geddes,  a local market woman, picked up a wooden three-legged stool and threw it at the vicar, yelling something like ““Devil cause you colic in your stomach, false thief: dare you say the Mass in my ear? This started a riot, causing the minister to have to flee for his safety and this event is reported to have been the beginning of events that led to expulsion of the Anglican bishops and archbishops, establishment of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland and further conflict in the Bishop’s Wars and Wars of  Three Kingdoms (England, Ireland and Scotland) from 1639-1651.

St Giles Kevin

Friendly guide, Kevin at St Giles.

I talked at length with two of the guides in St Giles.   Maybe Jenny Geddes never really existed.  Maybe she did and was a set-up.  Maybe she was a man in woman’s clothing ready to start a riot.  Maybe she really was Janet Geddes.    Regardless,  this July day in St Giles was historic for both the church and the country and today there is a small (modern) monument in the church where the event was said to take place and a brass plaque marking the occasion. Much of the church is still the original 1400’s pillars and bricks.  Kevin pointed out a lot of the architectural details to me and was very friendly and informative.

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I have no indication that this Jenny Geddes was any relation to me although she likely came from the Geddes clan that originated in the North of Scotland.   I can trace my own tree back to a Charles Geddes who was born in 1520 and lived in Edinburgh. My ninth great grandfather, George Geddes was born on May 17, 1603 in Leith,  a “suburb” of  old Edinburgh, not far from Holyrood Castle and lived in Edinburgh when the infamous Jenny G. caused the commotion.

So this is a story that links me to Scottish Geddes history (loosely) and whether it is true or not, it is fun to hear it told.  53_350x350_Front_Color-NAPatrick Geddes was also an interesting and well-respected biologist, philanthropist and town planner from the late 19th century who is commemorated in several plaques and small streets throughout Edinburgh.  (also no relation except for the shared original Geddes lineage).  The Geddes coat of arms has three fish on it and the name may be derived from the word “gedd” which means pike.  Or, my friend Judith Adam might be pleased to know that it could actually be a derivative of MacAdam (the letter G sometimes representing Mac in Gaelic and “eddie” being a substitute for Adam)

Patrick Geddes 2

So I have started my exploration with some name dropping (I could have also mentioned actress Barbara Bel Geddes or Australian photographer, Anne Geddes ).  This is all the Geddes name exploring I did on this trip but I will be back for sure to dig deeper into that history.  In the meantime I did a lot of travel around the Borders and will document that in subsequent posts about the Riddell’s and the Turnbull’s and the Crinklaw’s.

Here is a little video of my time wandering about St Giles Cathedral.