Category Archives: Family

A Moment in Time Part 2

Chapter 5                                              Annie Dorothy Frampton

By the time Robert and Leah were settled in Ontario, and their son James was four years old, across the cold Atlantic Ocean, in South Hackney, in the County of Middlesex, a wee baby girl was born on February 14, 1884 at home.
cropped birth certificate Annie1

cropped birth certificate Annie2
Hackney, was a very poor area of east London in those days. Her father, Francis Frampton, and his wife Edith Davies Frampton, lived at 4 Poole Rd. South Hackney.

Her father registered her birth two months later on April 18, 1884. So far it is unknown whether Annie had any siblings.

What is evident is that she had a mother and father in 1884, and somehow, a mere four years later was living in Stratford, Ontario, Canada, in an orphanage known as The Annie MacPherson Home.

It would be seven decades before she knew her birth date, her parents’ names, and where she lived.

On December 14, 1944, when Annie was 60 yrs. old, her family obtained certification that Annie arrived at the Stratford Home in July 1888, and was reported to be 4 yrs. old at the time. * Please note that when Annie MacPherson died her Homes and records became the possession of Dr. Barnardo’s Homes Company.
cropped dr bernardo
At the age of 60 Annie still had to wait 19 years to know who she was, and where she came from.

There was much speculation about who she was. As a four year old it was not possible to remember what short past she had.

One story was that she was found wandering the streets of London holding a Ladies white glove. Many years ago Annie related what she hoped was an accurate memory to one of her great-granddaughters: She said she thought she could remember her father’s body lying in the parlour. She thought she had brothers and that her mother Edith could keep the boys because they could work, but she could not look after a young girl.

*This may be pretty close to the truth. Many of the orphans at the time were given to orphanages because the remaining parent simply could not look after them. There were more than 100,000 orphans in London at that time.

Stratford Home MacPherson (2)
Above is the Annie MacPherson Home at 51 Avon St. Stratford, Ontario, as it was when Annie arrived in 1888 and as it is today in 2016.

Other than the Census indication that Annie may have lived with a family named Willows, nothing is known of the 11 yr. period from the age of four to fifteen.

Life changed dramatically for the orphan and a boy who grew up without siblings on December 20, 1899, when the marriage took place between Annie Dorothy Frampton and James Henry White.

The service was conducted by Rev. J. McKay at the Annie MacPherson House, and was witnessed by Priscilla Pointer and Lottie Butcher. It is unknown if they were residents or employees of the Home.

Annie was 15 years old and James 19 years old. It was a Wednesday.

Annie had 14 births, 8 of whom lived to adulthood: William, Elsie, Eric, Gladys, S. Earl, John, Robert, Margaret.

Image (5)

I remember well the excitement of 1963 when Elsie White Gingerich, one of James’ and Annie’s daughters told me that finally they had been able to receive a notarized copy of Annie’s Birth Certificate. *as shown above

Annie was 79 yrs. old. Elsie went on and on about the marvel of spending your whole life not knowing the where, the who, the when of it all and then finally, finally, finding out.

On February 14, 1964 Annie Frampton White turned 80 years old. Over the years previously she had given herself a birthday of May 1883, and finally at the age of 80 years a proper family party was held, and the celebration was a mighty one.
In 1965 Annie died, 25 years after her husband, leaving a large and wide spread family.

When things get hard, and life is dark, and hope seems gone forever, I just have to think about Annie, who had less than nothing, and lived to laugh and love, and be loved. And therein lays the hope for us.

James and Annie sometime before his death in 1940

Image (49)

Annie and Babyhappy annie

And with life there is also death.death notice Babies Donald and Kenneth

Death notice Babies Charlie and Roy Edison

and life goes on… a travel document for James to travel to the United States on business in 1918

james travel request usa

Not an end, but a beginning

Annie gravestone

A Moment in Time

**Note this may only be of interest to family

This is the story of a young girl, born in Hackney England in 1884.  Four years later in July 1888 she was an orphan situated at ‘The Annie MacPherson Home”, in Stratford, Ontario, Canada. She was sixty years old before she knew for sure when she arrived at the Home.  She was seventy-nine before she knew the date of her birth, the names of her mother and father, and her address in Hackney.  She had assigned herself a birthday just to have something to celebrate. Her eightieth birthday was the only accurate birthday date, and that party was mighty.  She died a year later. But there was great joy in her life as the following photos will show.

This is a peek at a wee book I have put together as a gift to my godmother for her 90th birthday this month. The booklet is about her grandmother, my great-grandmother. I will post it just a few chapters at a time.

I must say it was a surprisingly huge task considering its size, but research took months and I certainly have enough information to write ten books.  But for now that information has been filed.  I have had a few books printed and will present Elaine’s to her at her party.

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Chapter One                                                              Beginnings

                                                                    Annie at 60

This is the story of an incredible woman, without whose participation, none of us would exist today.  She had a sad and hard beginning, one that might make us wonder how she could ever have had any degree of happiness.

But the good thing about life is that, regardless of hardship, pain, and loss, there is still joy to be had.  Perhaps the loss makes the happiness sweeter.

Annie Dorothy Frampton had a beautiful, joyous smile.  This will be evidenced in some photos you will see later.  Her joy was her family.

The very thing she lived her early years without, became her greatest treasure, by her own making.

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Chapter 2                                           Robert White 1832-1916

Before we tell Annie’s story we must start in Glasgow, Scotland in 1832, when Annie’s future father-in-law, Robert White was born.  Little is known about his early years, though we know that on Saturday, the 17th day of April, 1858, in the town of Stratford England, 26 year old Robert enlisted in the 100 Regiment of Foot, Horse Guard.  Less than a year later he mustered out of the Guard for a fee of twenty pounds at Shorncliffe England with a Good Conduct rating.

Robert White wearing his dress uniform

   robert dress uniform                                                                                                                                                              

 robert discharge document

What happened to Robert between 1859 and 1871?   By this time he had immigrated to Ontario, Canada, and a year later, at the age of 40, married 17 year old Leah Strickler in 1872.

Scots had been immigrating to Canada since the 17th century, and around the years that Robert White came to Ontario, 80,000 Scots entered Canada.  From the time of his discharge from the Horse Guard, it was 21 years until the birth of his one and only child James.

Below is Robert’s death notice.  At that time he lived in Paris and died on August 4th, 1916 at 11 pm in his 85th year.  His funeral left the home of his son James White, West River St., Paris, Ontario, on Monday August 7th at 9:30 am for the GTR Depot following a service in the home of James.  Interment was in the Mennonite Cemetery at Bright.

death notice Robert White

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Chapter 3                                      The Stricklers of Preston, Ontario

Let’s for a moment jump back even further in time and place to York Pennsylvania, USA in the year 1822.  Specifically November 22, 1822.

Part of the Pennsylvania Dutch immigration, Reuben arrived in Ontario where he met and married Leah Witmer, who was the first of three wives.  Leah and Reuben had nine children, one of whom, named after her mother, would grow up to marry Robert White many years later.  Women died, often in childbirth and men remarried to have someone care for their children.

reuben memorial page (3)    reuben memorial page (4)

 

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Chapter 4                                               Robert and Leah

 

Leah and Robert married in 1872.  She was 17 yrs. and he was 40 yrs. old.  They had no living children until James Henry White was born in 1880.

In reviewing the Canadian Census Records of the time, it appears that the age difference did bother Robert.

In 1871, Robert properly listed himself as 39 yrs. old.  This was a year before he married his very young bride.

In 1881, ten years later Robert is listed as Presbyterian, Leah as Mennonite, James, the baby, as 6 months old.  Robert’s age is recorded as 44 years old – short by 5 years.

In 1891, Robert lists his age as 49 years.  He was really 59 at the time.  So our many times ‘great’ grandfather only aged 10 years over 20 years.

Interestingly, Annie Frampton, in the same census (1891) is listed under the family of J. Willows, a 34 yr. old farmer from England, who had a number of children listed. (Is it possible this family took her in from the orphanage?)  She is stated as 7 yrs. old.

****Next post is the story of the young Annie and then Annie, her husband James, and their life and legacy

 

The Wall

img_20170205_114255267

I look at a board on a wall in front of my writing desk.   It is a point of inspiration and love.

Photos, notes, reminders.

The earliest photo is from the 1930’s.  My great-grandmother (Orphan Annie) and my great-grandfather James who died in 1940.

A newspaper clipping and photo of my paternal grandparents 50th wedding anniversary in 1973.  Photo of a dear cousin and her husband, both gone now much much too early.  And my parents gone in 1980’s.  A photocopy of my father’s army application filled out on a Friday the 13th in 1942 at the age of 17.

So many dead and gone. BUT interspersed throughout the board, the Living. Sons, grandsons, siblings, in-laws, and another dear cousin who is my mini me.

Life and lives.  Memories made and being made.  A wedding invitation for September 2017 of a dear nephew and his bride to be.

I love my wall.  I love the reminders of all whose paths transverse mine.

My Gratitude Wall.

This is just the starting point.  There are not enough walls to hold the photos of those who have gone, and those who live who warm my heart and spirit.

I am Blessed.

WHAT IF THE SOURCE OF ….

WHAT IF THE SOURCE OF WESTERN problems all stemmed from one evil? Societal restlessness, increased suicides and attempts, especially among the young, increased violent crimes, an increasingly hopelessness infused into each moment.

I wonder if we have let ourselves be duped, not unlike those of times long past who fell victim to purveyors of handy dandy things to make your life better, happier, bring you joy, ease.

You see I wonder if all our problems exist because of a collision of expectation and reality. Just like the anorexic young girl who cannot resolve her body image with that of skinny air brushed models we have been sold a load of nonsense about happiness.

That’s right. What if our expectation of happiness is not real, but an idea invented by small time scammers who made delusion a big time business.

Just like the simple country folk in the frontier days, shelling out hard earned dollars or cents (cents were so much more valuable then) to a shyster convincing them that the purchase of a bottle of mysterious happy juice would make your life, heart, or soul better, we began, decades ago buying up and into nonsense that life was all about being happy.

By the way the purveyors of this nonsense, who kept saying, look at me, how happy I am, You can be happy just like me, were indeed happy as society shelled out billions of dollars in books, on courses, in classes, advertising. At least they appeared that way externally, though I suspect their inner souls were just as bleak as any.

In the sixties the cry was, I am trying to find myself. Who am I?

Then along came the big roll out. Meditation, examination, imagination, any ATION, and all you had to do were pay. Happiness became a product. Buy this, be happy. Happiness in a bottle, a pill, a house, a car, a dress,……Or the most dangerous, Buy This Book, Idea Psychobabble told us imagine, visualize, believe, and it will manifest. The use of the word Manifest in itself should be a crime. And for those who tried to MANIFEST and did not succeed? Well they just did not do it right. We were, and continue to this day, we are being sold a Bill of Goods. It only fills the pockets of the sellers who are scamming you me and future generations. Sure they are happy, laughing at our gullibility all the way to the bank.

Then we came to believe that we had to convince our children they are happy or rather they should be happy. That life is all about being happy. They are not allowed to fail, to feel the pain of loss and know that it is okay, a part of life that makes us stronger. And they buy our Bill of Goods and become confused, depressed, and fearful when they cannot quite grasp this feeling they should have. What is wrong with me, they say. I must be deficient.

The pursuit of the illusive HAPPINESS has gone off to a realm of ridiculousness and people, especially our young are falling apart.

What if it all could be fixed?

What if we made a society (and we can by the way) where key words became, DIGNITY, HARD WORK, DETERMINATION, PERSERVERENCE, KINDNESS, NON-JUDGEMENT, VALUE PERSISTENCE.

What if we retaught ourselves that it is okay to fail, that there is a dignity in failing and falling? That failing does not mean unworthy? What if there was honor in the struggle?

What if we let our children know that it is okay not to feel happy in any given moment?

What if the new word became Satisfaction? Not in the result but in the attempt to live a good hard working honorable life. (with heavy emphasis on the hard working) and at the end of each day to feel a satisfaction?

Life is messy, and hard, and at time so sad and lonely, and painful but there is a worth to life, a Satisfaction that must be earned.

Let’s take a huge load of our children’s minds. It’s okay to be sad, mad, even glad. Let them know LIFE IS HARD, but can be rewarding instead of setting up an illusion called Happiness. And rewards must be earned.

What if Happiness exists as a by-product of this thing called LIFE?

Friday Toppers 12/366

Above is a photo of my last two hats and one pair of mittens.  I made them for my grandsons, both of whom love them. (I wasn’t sure but yes they loved them.)

Before I start my next project I thought I would use the rest of my blue yarn and make a few more hats.  Generally I do these kind of things in the summer to have them ready to donate to charity in the fall.  For some reason I feel the need to make more so will continue on.  Following my feelings always pays off.

I saw Auntie this morning and we talked about what it was like sailing across the ocean on a liner.  I am not much for boats so am in awe of those folk who traverse the water to reach a destination.    Her mind comes and goes, wandering off now and then, so conversation is patient and interesting.  She did talk about the joys of having a wonderful partner for over thirty years but the pain of the big goodbye.

It is hard to believe it is finally the middle of the month.  The first week seemed to drag on endlessly until the second week found it’s roller skates and sped up.

I finished a few books; Clive Cussler’s Ghost Ship, Sue Grafton’s Undertow ( a reread), an Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot short story.  Books and stories are my comfort blanket.  Lost a dear friend of the family this past week, my age, so have a funeral to attend Monday morning.

It is important I think to find joy and humor is each day.  It is there.

OH almost forgot! Judith at growingyoungereachday and Donna at Scatter Kindness and I are starting a fiction writing course on Monday.  The course is from Future Learn at https://www.futurelearn.com/courses/start-writing-fiction/

The course is  FREE! Check it out and hopefully join us!

Have a good weekend all!

Feeling Bad about Missing a Midnight Deadline Until You Realize it Might Not Be Missed 11/366

 

I missed the midnight deadline, a post, which by the way was about the reliability of midnight deadlines. Had it all planned. It was the execution that proved problematic.

See, in the world of daily blogging I have fallen a little behind. Advanced to the Rear as they say, except it was not an aggressive advancement which should count for something I think.

If you take note of the date you will see it is the thirteenth of the month. Really, here we are almost halfway through the first month of 2016.

I have accepted the reality of this being after midnight, though I suppose of could call dibs on the midnight next to come, say in Manitoba, or British Columbia. I could just date it the 12th, then I am just a wee bit behind. But no I will stand tall and loudly proclaim my allegiance to midnight in Southern Ontario. And let the chips fall where they may. Hmmm wish I had some chips here to snack on. I am not usually up this late, but I have things weighing on my mind so this happens occasionally. You know the staying up late part.

Any commentary up to this month relating to El Nino and the lack of snow in my part of the world can now be put to bed with the bears.   Winter has arrived!

Yesterday morning I did not brave the trek to my usual Café O to meet with my peeps. By midday it was over cast and damp so I made the 12 km run to The Home to see our favorite Aunt. The plows had been out so the roads weren’t too bad as long as one drove slowly leaving lots of distance between cars.

We had a nice visit, tea and chatter. Frannie was able to tell me about someone who had come to see her earlier that day, she spoke of Jack but knew he had died a long time ago. The only thing she was unable to do? She had no idea who I was. Oh she was pleased to see me, she knew she must know me. And she was very socially polite but I could see her trying to figure out exactly who I was. She just could not remember.

It leads to anxiety and more confusion. Then in a blink that part of the picture clears though another piece of the puzzle fogs.

Six Word Saturday: Puff, You Said This Would Happen 8/366

Peter, Paul & Mary – Puff, The Magic Dragon Lyrics

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Little Jackie paper loved that rascal puff,
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. ohPuff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on puffs gigantic tail,
Noble kings and princes would bow whene’r they came,
Pirate ships would lower their flag when puff roared out his name. oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

Dragons live forever but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant strings make way for other toys.
One sad night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his life-long friend, puff could not be brave,
So puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave. oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

G2 who has been by my side every day almost since he was three is growing up. He turns eight in March so I knew it was coming.  He still loves his grandma but his world is larger now.
I went to Hamilton for an overnight visit Wednesday evening.  Everything was almost the same.  He still wanted to go for our penny walk, which netted no pennies but lots of information and camaraderie.  But later I noticed he was not at my side.
G2, I called where are you?
In my room playing Grandma.
Do you want me to  play too?
No, its okay Grandma.
G2, you aren’t playing with me the way you usually do.
Oh Grandma, I am more like (G1) now.  I am growing up.
Sigh.
On the Auntie Fran side of things I thought I would show you what we have been up to. Above is a sample of our art work compiled while we have tea and chat each day. ( I have no idea how to position photos with this site.)
Most often Fran sorts through her coloring pencils then will color a bit but spends most of the time chatting and watching me.
When we left our love bird story we had Fran who felt she was down to earth and realistic about her own unattractiveness and Uncle Jack who felt he could charm the world.
Fran had agreed finally to go out to dinner with him.  She says now she wasn’t particularly impressed at that first date but he was pleasant enough.  She politely declined the suggestion of another date and went on her merry way.  But he did persist.  I am not sure what the second date was but it was interesting enough that it caught her interest.  And that was enough to get her to the all important stage – meeting the family.
I mentioned previously that the group of nurses who traveled the world together stayed together.  When they arrived at a new place they all shared apartments.
Fran told me years ago how sometimes one of them would ‘bring home a man’ and then she felt compelled to launch into her lecture on such activities.  She told them that if they must engage in such activity then so be it, they were adults, but please make sure you do it on his territory.”
“You never soil your own nest.” A saying she would repeat again and again.  It was the sixties but ‘free love’ did not exist everywhere no matter what you hear.

6/366 When It’s Short It’s Probably Busy

 

I am in Hamilton staying overnight as I have an appointment in the morning here.

Saw my fave Aunt this morning, then it was off to my first Tai Chi class, which I loved, then motored to Hamilton.

Visiting with my newly returned from Hawaii family.  It’s only been four days so they are still sporting nice tans. The time zone adjustments took a bit of time but everyone seems back to normal.

Frannie gets a little confused sometimes and will think Jack is still alive (he has been gone more than a decade) and then when she remembers she grieves anew.  These days she is pretty good so all conversation is just nice memories.  We were talking about Jack’s fave hobby which was fishing.  Now Fran cannot abide anything that comes from the sea, especially if it was once alive and is now dead in preparation for consumption.

She never belittled his passion and would properly ooooo and ahhhh over the catch of the day. They respected each other’s feelings. Thank goodness Jack was an A1 cook and we would feast mightily.

Five Days and It Feels Like a Year 5/366

I just thinking the other day – I wonder how long it will continue to feel like a new year.  You know, when your first morning thought is not, -Wow it’s a new year.  There is a certain deliciousness in the feeling.  Sort of how you feel when you get a brand new car.  A sense of awe.

But life intrudes, you know, with life things.  What is that saying? “Life gets in the way.”  Yeah I think that is it.

Conditions change, people get sick and get well. Some things you expect as you age.  As your friends age.  And sometimes the threat is to  younger people.

I was just saying not too long ago to a dear friend, Judith, that someone should write a book about cancer.  About something that never seems to be addressed.  I mean people discuss, write, argue about ‘fighting’, about “surviving’.  But there is one word that describes cancer perfectly.  Waiting.  Eternally waiting.  That’s what it all becomes about. The Sword of Damocles.  Hanging there.  Always.  Just try and live a normal life while you wait.  Hah.

No, it’s not me.  The Big C and I did our dance over a year ago and so far so good.  But it is someone.  And the thing is that for the next forever there is THE WAIT.

Wait – something may be wrong

Wait – we have to do some more tests

Wait – we have to do some MORE tests just to be sure

Wait – you have cancer

Wait- we have to do this bit of surgery to see how bad it could be.

Wait – we have to do more surgery

Wait – we have to do more tests

Wait- we have to do this treatment, that treatment

Wait – we have to do more tests

WAIT WAIT WAIT

Your life and everyone who loves you waits.  No promises.  No conclusions.  Just wait. Suspended Animation.

LIMBO.  Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone.  Imagine if you will.  That’s how he started each of his shows.  Imagine if you will…..

Or don’t imagine.  Just try not imagining. HAH

Well enough of my grumping for now.  I saw our Auntie Fran this morning as I do most days.  She was telling me that she was seventeen when she went into Nurses Training.  So that would have been 1951.  She said training lasted for four years and most of it was working on the units.  It was pretty much the same when I trained in 1966 and I still think it is a superior way to learn.  But for her it was six days a week, twelve hours a day when on the units.

To appreciate our love story you have to understand the two people involved.  I already told you Uncle Jack was a charmer.  Aunt Fran was the exact opposite.  Down to earth.  Her early years were spent during the second world war.  Her father gone into service, rationing and hardship for everyone not just for her.   Her father returned I think about 1945.  She was eleven when the war ended.  Hardly a year later when she was twelve her mother died.

Her parents and probably their parents were Salvation Army so they grew up with a solid foundation of faith.  Frances Alice never thought of herself as a dreamer.  There was too much harsh reality.

She told me a story that when she was about six she and her mother were walking along in town, and her mother was holding her hand.  The town was most upset because a young child had been abducted from the town, and I do not know if she was ever found.

Anyway Fran told me her mother said, “You should be happy you are not pretty. Because that means no one will ever steal you.”

Isn’t funny the things we remember from our childhood?  Fran told me this story because I had told her a few years ago that when I first met her I thought she was so beautiful.  She offered this information so that I would know she was not beautiful.  She was not even pretty.  I am sure her mother loved her and I think that she could not have known those words would stay with her young daughter forever.

You might think there would be a danger that if a smooth talking gent happened along and called her beautiful that she would succumb to his charms.  But don’t forget our lady was made of strong moral fiber.

More tomorrow my friends.

 

Oh by the way , the stamp about was issued by the Australian government in honour of nurses in 1955 the year Frannie graduated.

 

Book One and 4/366

I just finished reading The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins.  Every year I think I should keep track of what and how many books I read because I read a lot so am naturally curious.  Anyway it is the first book finished this year.  I tend to be very cautious about new hot sellers.  Often the book doesn’t live up to the hype.

I read the reviews that said things like, GRIPPING, and I COULDN’T PUT IT DOWN.  I get most of my books from my library which I download onto my tablet.  Very convenient.  It means I don’t get to the actual library very often and I do miss that.  There is something magical about being amongst books.

I remember a few years ago, in Canterbury England going into an old old bookstore and smelling something so intriguing I never wanted to leave.  Sort of like old ink and dust.  So I miss the library itself.

Oh yeah, about the book – OUTSTANDING.  An amazing story filled with suspense.  Truly GRIPPING. All the reviews were dead on.  At least all that I read.

I just came back from visiting Auntie Fran.  She is not doing quite so well today but perhaps tomorrow will be better.  I think I told you yesterday a bit about my Uncle Jack who became her husband back in 1969.

Jack was this charming gad about and Frances was a traveling nurse.  In those days it was not unusual for nurses to travel the world, usually in groups, working for a year or  so in a part of a country then moving on.  There are ‘traveling nurses’ today but it is not quite the same thing.

Anyway Frannie and some nursing friends had saved some money in Australia and they decided it was time to travel.  They headed first for Europe, and worked in England.  After a year or so they headed off for Canada where they planned a few stops across country.

They went to work at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Toronto.  The girls shared apartments together and saved money toward the next leg of the trip.  Whilst there, (Fran being a well spoken Aussie often says things like ‘whilst’) a friend encouraged Fran to meet a male friend of hers.  Fran was rather rigid in standards and would not date just anyone.  She refused more than once to meet this gent.  Now as Fran tells it, one day this woman said, “I really think you should meet this fellow.  He is divorced, he is short and he stutters but I think you will like him.”

I guess that was the statement that sold her.  Perhaps curiosity.  Of course it was not an easy sell at all.  Which of course is part of the charm of their love story.  He truly had to woo her.

Well I must dash off.  More on our love birds tomorrow.