Pocock Kin

At least we are not in the Polar Vortex! Thoughts of spring and yard work cross my mind many times a day. In a good way! It is great fun to read the blogs that we have so far. I hope there will be many more, and often.

This past year I started to dig through boxes of ‘stuff ‘ that have been sitting in my garage from dad and mom and some things from grandma. Many pictures to sift through and other odds and ends of things from the past. I just get some stacks of pictures sorted and then have to put everything away – kind of three steps forward and two back! I plan to send pictures that I have to the appropriate families and hope it will be something you may not already have. Such great memories from those old black and white pictures.

My family has the goal of learning more about our ancestors this year. We are meeting once a month to highlight one ancestor from the Pocock family line or from the Rich line. Knowing about our ancestors help us to understand who we are, and I want my grandchildren to have that gift. Since I drew for January, I am teaching about Grandma Hazel. I have gathered stories from her and from a CD that Elda made, and things I and my sibs can remember. My request is for you to send me anything that you might remember that would be fun to put in her history. I have written four pages to give to my kids, but that hardly does justice to 94 years of living. I would love any memories of grandpa Luke too. I was only about 7 when he died with mostly the memory of knowing that I loved him. Short stories are good because I think grandchildren are more likely to read them. I will share one in Grandma’s words that you might enjoy. The setting: Grandma in Tooele as a little girl, and this one always made her laugh in the telling.

“A group of Indians were camped about 1/4 mile below our home. My older sister, who was 12, and her friend really wanted to sneak down to see what they were doing. There had been much chanting and drumming that week. Not wanting to miss the adventure, I coaxed my mom to let me go. The three of us stole close to watch them around their campfire. Without warning, an old man jumped up with a noisy clatter and came after us. As we turned to escape, my sister Elsie grabbed one hand, her friend my other, and ran as fast as their legs would go – dragging me lumpity bumpity over the sage brush. I was never so scared. We could hear their laughter fading as we made distance toward home.”

I think it would be fun to exchange stories about our memories of growing up in this fine family. Many blessings to you and yours in this new year! Love to all, Mary Ellen

Can you identify the family members in these pictures? I know they are not the best pics, but they are old!