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The Beginning

 October 29, 2024,

Hi Ember, I'm starting this letter on the 29th with no idea when it will be published. Or for that matter when you will or if you will ever read it. 

November 29, 2024, Hi Ember, I'm starting this letter on the 29th with no idea when it will be published. Or for that matter when you will or if you will ever read it. this was your Great Grandmother Waddington's Avacado tree The first unknown is due entirely to the steady stream of storms battering the Philippines that keep cutting our electricity and web connection. The second is because your mother, for her own undoubtedly good reasons has chosen to make you an unknown to me. So, as a way to introduce myself; here's a story that involves your mother when she was about 1 and 1/2 years old, your great-great-grandmother Hamilton, a stick and Ivory Island Light station. A LITTLE HISTORY Not too long after grandmother Elly and I married I walked into the Hudson Bay store in Prince Rupert where she was working. She took one look at me and said 'What have you done now?!'. Ivory Island What I had done was applied to be the junior lightkeeper on Ivory Island. Give or take a day, two weeks later we were on the Ivory Island Light station. A small island near Bella Bella in Milbanke Sound. That's where your mother was conceived. After being born in the same hospital as I had in Vancouver, your grandmother and your eventual mother returned to the light where she spent near enough to the first three and a half years of her life. (Small aside, I'm entering early Dementia/Alzheimer's. So, exact dates and times are going to be rare in these letters.) TO THE STORY The senior keeper was a grandfatherly type named Dave with his equally grandmotherly type wife whose name has just flown out of my brain. Which is my roundabout way of saying your first three or so years were spent in what some would call isolation, I called heaven and you had best ask your gramma Elly (if she's still alive) what she thought of being a lightkeepers wife. Once your mother was walking and talking she became unbelievably creative in her amusements. She woud dance with the ravens, chatter up a storm, walk with us on the boardwalk and best treat of all, pick wild berries. Not surprisingly she created an imaginary friend. At least that's what your grandmother Elly and I thought she had done. But when I asked her who she was playing with in her room she told me ' My great-grandmother'. Grandmother Hamilton (Another aside: On my gramma Hamilton's death bed she said that she could die easier if only she knew that I was going to be alright. She didn't Love me more than her other grandchildren but she worried more about me. It must be admitted her worries were justified.) When your mother played with her great-grandmother she would usually play at cleaning the house with a stick she called her broom. Her great-grandmother was renowned for her dare I say, fanatical house cleaning! When we went on leave to my visit my mother she walked right up to the television and pointing to a picture on the top of the tv said 'that's my great-grandmother'. And it was. On my side of your ancestral line there has always been a strong connection to he spiritual. So, it seemed just natural that my grandmother would stick around to check up on me and help where she could. Later when your mother was about 6 or 7, I asked her if her great-grandmother still played with her. She became quiet and sad and said 'no, she doesn't play with me anymore'. I let the conversation drop. I believe that Gramma Hamilton, she would be your great-great grandmother Hamilton is still keeping an eye on me. I also believe that if she thinks this blog and the letters in it are a good idea then one way or another this blog will be found by you. A Selfie A selfie Grandpa Brian
this was your Great Grandmother Waddington's
 Avocado tree

The first unknown is due entirely to the steady stream of storms battering the Philippines that keep cutting our electricity and web connection. 

The second is because your mother, for her own undoubtedly good reasons has chosen to  make you an unknown to me. 

So, as a way to introduce myself; here's a story that involves your mother when she was about 1 and 1/2 years old, your great-great-grandmother Hamilton, a stick and Ivory Island Light Station.

A LITTLE HISTORY

Not too long after grandmother Elly and I married I walked into the Hudson Bay store in Prince Rupert where she was working. She took one look at me and said 'What have you done now?!'. 

November 29, 2024, Hi Ember, I'm starting this letter on the 29th with no idea when it will be published. Or for that matter when you will or if you will ever read it. this was your Great Grandmother Waddington's Avacado tree The first unknown is due entirely to the steady stream of storms battering the Philippines that keep cutting our electricity and web connection. The second is because your mother, for her own undoubtedly good reasons has chosen to make you an unknown to me. So, as a way to introduce myself; here's a story that involves your mother when she was about 1 and 1/2 years old, your great-great-grandmother Hamilton, a stick and Ivory Island Light station. A LITTLE HISTORY Not too long after grandmother Elly and I married I walked into the Hudson Bay store in Prince Rupert where she was working. She took one look at me and said 'What have you done now?!'. Ivory Island What I had done was applied to be the junior lightkeeper on Ivory Island. Give or take a day, two weeks later we were on the Ivory Island Light station. A small island near Bella Bella in Milbanke Sound. That's where your mother was conceived. After being born in the same hospital as I had in Vancouver, your grandmother and your eventual mother returned to the light where she spent near enough to the first three and a half years of her life. (Small aside, I'm entering early Dementia/Alzheimer's. So, exact dates and times are going to be rare in these letters.) TO THE STORY The senior keeper was a grandfatherly type named Dave with his equally grandmotherly type wife whose name has just flown out of my brain. Which is my roundabout way of saying your first three or so years were spent in what some would call isolation, I called heaven and you had best ask your gramma Elly (if she's still alive) what she thought of being a lightkeepers wife. Once your mother was walking and talking she became unbelievably creative in her amusements. She woud dance with the ravens, chatter up a storm, walk with us on the boardwalk and best treat of all, pick wild berries. Not surprisingly she created an imaginary friend. At least that's what your grandmother Elly and I thought she had done. But when I asked her who she was playing with in her room she told me ' My great-grandmother'. Grandmother Hamilton (Another aside: On my gramma Hamilton's death bed she said that she could die easier if only she knew that I was going to be alright. She didn't Love me more than her other grandchildren but she worried more about me. It must be admitted her worries were justified.) When your mother played with her great-grandmother she would usually play at cleaning the house with a stick she called her broom. Her great-grandmother was renowned for her dare I say, fanatical house cleaning! When we went on leave to my visit my mother she walked right up to the television and pointing to a picture on the top of the tv said 'that's my great-grandmother'. And it was. On my side of your ancestral line there has always been a strong connection to he spiritual. So, it seemed just natural that my grandmother would stick around to check up on me and help where she could. Later when your mother was about 6 or 7, I asked her if her great-grandmother still played with her. She became quiet and sad and said 'no, she doesn't play with me anymore'. I let the conversation drop. I believe that Gramma Hamilton, she would be your great-great grandmother Hamilton is still keeping an eye on me. I also believe that if she thinks this blog and the letters in it are a good idea then one way or another this blog will be found by you. A Selfie A selfie Grandpa Brian
Ivory Island

What I had done was applied to be the junior lightkeeper on Ivory Island. Give or take a day, two weeks later we were on the Ivory Island Light Station. A small island near Bella Bella in Milbanke Sound.

 That's where your mother was conceived. After being born in the same hospital as I had in Vancouver, your grandmother and your eventual mother returned to the light where she spent near enough to the first three and a half years of her life.

(Small aside, I'm entering early Dementia/Alzheimer's. So, exact dates and times are going to be rare in these letters.)

TO THE STORY

The senior keeper was a grandfatherly type named Dave with his equally grandmotherly type wife whose name has just flown out of my brain.

Which is my roundabout way of saying your first three or so years were spent in what some would call isolation, I called heaven and you had best ask your gramma Elly (if she's still alive) what she thought of being a lightkeepers wife.

Once your mother was walking and talking she became unbelievably creative in her amusements. She woud dance with the ravens, chatter up a storm, walk with us on the boardwalk and best treat of all, pick wild berries. 

Not surprisingly she created an imaginary friend. At least that's what your grandmother Elly and I thought she had done.

But when I asked her who she was playing with in her room she told me ' My great-grandmother'. 

November 29, 2024, Hi Ember, I'm starting this letter on the 29th with no idea when it will be published. Or for that matter when you will or if you will ever read it. this was your Great Grandmother Waddington's Avacado tree The first unknown is due entirely to the steady stream of storms battering the Philippines that keep cutting our electricity and web connection. The second is because your mother, for her own undoubtedly good reasons has chosen to make you an unknown to me. So, as a way to introduce myself; here's a story that involves your mother when she was about 1 and 1/2 years old, your great-great-grandmother Hamilton, a stick and Ivory Island Light station. A LITTLE HISTORY Not too long after grandmother Elly and I married I walked into the Hudson Bay store in Prince Rupert where she was working. She took one look at me and said 'What have you done now?!'. Ivory Island What I had done was applied to be the junior lightkeeper on Ivory Island. Give or take a day, two weeks later we were on the Ivory Island Light station. A small island near Bella Bella in Milbanke Sound. That's where your mother was conceived. After being born in the same hospital as I had in Vancouver, your grandmother and your eventual mother returned to the light where she spent near enough to the first three and a half years of her life. (Small aside, I'm entering early Dementia/Alzheimer's. So, exact dates and times are going to be rare in these letters.) TO THE STORY The senior keeper was a grandfatherly type named Dave with his equally grandmotherly type wife whose name has just flown out of my brain. Which is my roundabout way of saying your first three or so years were spent in what some would call isolation, I called heaven and you had best ask your gramma Elly (if she's still alive) what she thought of being a lightkeepers wife. Once your mother was walking and talking she became unbelievably creative in her amusements. She woud dance with the ravens, chatter up a storm, walk with us on the boardwalk and best treat of all, pick wild berries. Not surprisingly she created an imaginary friend. At least that's what your grandmother Elly and I thought she had done. But when I asked her who she was playing with in her room she told me ' My great-grandmother'. Grandmother Hamilton (Another aside: On my gramma Hamilton's death bed she said that she could die easier if only she knew that I was going to be alright. She didn't Love me more than her other grandchildren but she worried more about me. It must be admitted her worries were justified.) When your mother played with her great-grandmother she would usually play at cleaning the house with a stick she called her broom. Her great-grandmother was renowned for her dare I say, fanatical house cleaning! When we went on leave to my visit my mother she walked right up to the television and pointing to a picture on the top of the tv said 'that's my great-grandmother'. And it was. On my side of your ancestral line there has always been a strong connection to he spiritual. So, it seemed just natural that my grandmother would stick around to check up on me and help where she could. Later when your mother was about 6 or 7, I asked her if her great-grandmother still played with her. She became quiet and sad and said 'no, she doesn't play with me anymore'. I let the conversation drop. I believe that Gramma Hamilton, she would be your great-great grandmother Hamilton is still keeping an eye on me. I also believe that if she thinks this blog and the letters in it are a good idea then one way or another this blog will be found by you. A Selfie A selfie Grandpa Brian
Grandmother Hamilton

(Another aside: On my gramma Hamilton's death bed she said that she could die easier if only she knew that I was going to be alright. She didn't Love me more than her other grandchildren but she worried more about me. It must be admitted her worries were justified.)

When your mother played with her great-grandmother she would usually play at cleaning the house with a stick she called her broom. 

Her great-grandmother was renowned for her dare I say, fanatical house cleaning!

When we went on leave to my visit my mother she walked right up to the television and pointing to a picture on the top of the tv said 'that's my great-grandmother'. And it was.

On my side of your ancestral line there has always been a strong connection to the spiritual. So, it seemed just natural that my grandmother would stick around to check up on me and help where she could. 

Later when your mother was about 6 or 7, I asked her if her great-grandmother still played with her. She became quiet and sad and said 'no, she doesn't play with me anymore'.  I let the conversation drop.

I believe that Gramma Hamilton, she would be your great-great grandmother Hamilton is still keeping an eye on me. I also believe that if she thinks this blog and the letters in it are a good idea then one way or another this blog will be found by you. 

November 29, 2024, Hi Ember, I'm starting this letter on the 29th with no idea when it will be published. Or for that matter when you will or if you will ever read it. this was your Great Grandmother Waddington's Avacado tree The first unknown is due entirely to the steady stream of storms battering the Philippines that keep cutting our electricity and web connection. The second is because your mother, for her own undoubtedly good reasons has chosen to make you an unknown to me. So, as a way to introduce myself; here's a story that involves your mother when she was about 1 and 1/2 years old, your great-great-grandmother Hamilton, a stick and Ivory Island Light station. A LITTLE HISTORY Not too long after grandmother Elly and I married I walked into the Hudson Bay store in Prince Rupert where she was working. She took one look at me and said 'What have you done now?!'. Ivory Island What I had done was applied to be the junior lightkeeper on Ivory Island. Give or take a day, two weeks later we were on the Ivory Island Light station. A small island near Bella Bella in Milbanke Sound. That's where your mother was conceived. After being born in the same hospital as I had in Vancouver, your grandmother and your eventual mother returned to the light where she spent near enough to the first three and a half years of her life. (Small aside, I'm entering early Dementia/Alzheimer's. So, exact dates and times are going to be rare in these letters.) TO THE STORY The senior keeper was a grandfatherly type named Dave with his equally grandmotherly type wife whose name has just flown out of my brain. Which is my roundabout way of saying your first three or so years were spent in what some would call isolation, I called heaven and you had best ask your gramma Elly (if she's still alive) what she thought of being a lightkeepers wife. Once your mother was walking and talking she became unbelievably creative in her amusements. She woud dance with the ravens, chatter up a storm, walk with us on the boardwalk and best treat of all, pick wild berries. Not surprisingly she created an imaginary friend. At least that's what your grandmother Elly and I thought she had done. But when I asked her who she was playing with in her room she told me ' My great-grandmother'. Grandmother Hamilton (Another aside: On my gramma Hamilton's death bed she said that she could die easier if only she knew that I was going to be alright. She didn't Love me more than her other grandchildren but she worried more about me. It must be admitted her worries were justified.) When your mother played with her great-grandmother she would usually play at cleaning the house with a stick she called her broom. Her great-grandmother was renowned for her dare I say, fanatical house cleaning! When we went on leave to my visit my mother she walked right up to the television and pointing to a picture on the top of the tv said 'that's my great-grandmother'. And it was. On my side of your ancestral line there has always been a strong connection to he spiritual. So, it seemed just natural that my grandmother would stick around to check up on me and help where she could. Later when your mother was about 6 or 7, I asked her if her great-grandmother still played with her. She became quiet and sad and said 'no, she doesn't play with me anymore'. I let the conversation drop. I believe that Gramma Hamilton, she would be your great-great grandmother Hamilton is still keeping an eye on me. I also believe that if she thinks this blog and the letters in it are a good idea then one way or another this blog will be found by you. A Selfie A selfie Grandpa Brian
A selfie

Grandpa Brian    



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