World Grandparent’s Day it is a relatively recent innovation, if we compare it with the celebration of other special days, which is why few people (me included) know what its origin is or why it was established.
The celebration was introduced to the UK in 1990 by the charity Age Concern. It has been celebrated on the first Sunday in October since 2008, although it has not been as successful commercially as Mother’s and Father’s Day.
Very recently Pope Francis declared World Day for Grandparents and the Elderly, to take place annually on the fourth Sunday of July but here in Spain, Grandparents’ Day ( Día de los abuelos y las abuelas) is celebrated on July 26, the feast day of Saint Joachim and Saint Anne, parents of Mary, the mother of Jesus.
This factoid popped up on my social media today and got me thinking about my own family history.
As the child of older parents who had both been married before, three of my grandparents had passed away before I was even born, but my mother’s mother “Grandma” was a part of my childhood until I was ten-years-old.
My maternal grandmother Florence Emily May Harrington was born on the 30 March 1887 in Southend Rd., Ramsden Bellhouse near Billericay in Essex, the daughter of John Harrington farm labourer and Emma Nightingale. On the 18 August 1904 she married Henry William Pearce (AKA Blackmore – the AKA is a tale for another time) I know this because genealogy is one of my hobbies and more recently by incorporating DNA results, I have been able to confirm a lot of my research, but not anything to do with Grandad Henry. He was my mother’s father- it says so on her birth certificate which I sent for, it even includes his army service number (she was born in 1918)
I suppose I was a bit naïve really, it just didn’t occur to me that Henry wasn’t Mother’s biological father – even though I have documentary evidence that he shipped out to Egypt in December 1915 and didn’t return until 1919.
It took the very detailed research of another Cousin and DNA match to me, who was also interested in our common ancestors, to point out that it was highly unlikely that Henry would have been given home leave from Egypt in early 1918 when my mother was conceived, but in any case there are a great many DNA links that now prove that Henry Pearce was not my mother’s biological father.
After more searching and collaboration from a large number of here-to-fore unknown cousins, it turns out Grandma Florence had an affair with a bloke in Hendon who owned a chain of butcher’s shops – His name was Horace Alfred Smith and he lived in Bell Lane, Hendon.
There are 130 individuals (and counting) that DNA match to me via him so there is little doubt, although it turns out that Grandma Florence wasn’t his only conquest, as many of those who match with me have no documented relationship to Horace.
I was able to message with one of his direct descendants and it turns out that three of his other daughters (by his legitimate marriage) and one son had Titian coloured hair – as did my mother!. The cousin also mentioned that many of her family had Moreton’s toe (where your second toe Is longer than your big toe)
Henry Pearce must have known that he wasn’t my mother’s father – the red hair would have given it away even if the time frame didn’t, but Henry and Florence went on to have other children and stayed together until he died in 1954.
My mother never spoke of it – she may not have even known, and all concerned are dead now, so there’s no one to ask. As far as I am concerned Henry is still my Grandfather- my older sister remembers him a little and stories were told about him – he became part of the reference for who I am myself.
The grandparents of today are in many ways different to my own, who were from a generation where divorce was less common and blended/extended family issues just weren’t spoken of openly.
But whether you are a Granny, Grandma, Nan, Nanna, Mimi, Nonna or any of the male equivalents including “Grumpy”; whether connected by blood, marriage, or any other kind of relationship, civil or otherwise, the bond between grandchildren and grandparents is still something special.
I did get something from good old Horace though – you guessed it – the big second toe!
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