Sad accidental drowning

This is my great-grandfather’s youngest brother, Truman, aged about 1o. Despite the dour expression typical of old photographs (they had to pose for up to 10 minutes while the plate developed), I think he’s quite a sweet looking little fellow. I know from his death certificate that he drowned at the age of just 20, but no further explanation was given and I had been thinking only the other week that I would never know if it was drunkenness or tomfoolery on his part, or just a tragic accident. But Ancestry.com have recently expanded they’re collection of digitised Wisconsin newspapers, and quite by chance I came across this:
As I read this on my computer screen, I was gripped not only by the drama and tragedy of the unfolding tale, but also by the thrill and delight of discovering something I had longed to know. It was a strange mix of emotions.

I bought the new Coldplay record. No surprise my favourite track is called Cemeteries of London.

Poor them

I just heard the most ridiculous news story on BBC World Service. The Saudi "moral police" - we knew them as mutawahs - want regular police protection and danger pay because of a backlash against them from ordinary Saudis. They claim their work has become difficult and dangerous and they want that to be recognised. Bloody cheek!

Essentially, these guys hassle people for a living. They're mostly just a nuisance - I was stopped a couple times in the Saudi city of Khobar where we used to shop occasionally and told my dress was unacceptable and a sign of my deep moral degredation which I had apparently managed to achieve at the tender age of just 12 - but according to the news report last year several mutawahs stopped girls escaping from a burning school because they were not wearing their head scarves and fifteen girls died in the fire. The majority of these moral police, according to the report, are university graduates, which surely proves that education does not make you intelligent.

The irony is, this comes some fifteen years too late. I remember Mum saying that any mutawah that threatened her would certainly need to be ready to defend himself. And our mild-mannered friend Virginia Stewart did actually push and shove one and knocked him off his feet one night as she got on the Khobar shopping bus. She was lauded with a round of applause if I remember correctly. It was one of the most exciting things that ever happened in our Saudi life.

Ticket to Ride

Dave taught me to play Ticket to Ride on Tuesday. In case you don’t know it… TtR is the It game of the summer. You line up little multi-coloured plastic choo-choos across a board displaying a map of the US, traversed by dozens of potential train routes between major cities. Here’s a visual.

So far, I’m pretty crap. But I’ve only played five times (yeah, in just two nights, it’s addictive). But I haven’t just been playing board games (not a euphemism) this week. In fact, in the last 72 hours I’ve been buzzing all over the city, and have crafted my own TtR-esque route maps to show you just how much ground I’ve covered:

Route 1 - yesterday: Wall St. to Sixth Ave/45th to 34th St. to Union Square to 92nd St to Wall St to Fulton St to Wall St.

...but winner of the longest continuous route is...

Route 2 - Weds - Wall St to Sixth Ave/45th St to Grand Central Post Office to Union Sq to 577 Grand St (the ends of the earth!) to Sixth Ave/12th St. to Waterside Plaza to Wall St.

I'm tired.

Just a had a scan down and realised I haven't posted any pictures on this thing since I fell in love with the Audi back in April. I don't carry a camera round the city documenting my New York life, so instead, for a bit of a change, here are some never before seen pictures from recent travels. To my long term readers I offer a challenge to identify as many of the locations as you can. There's a prize in it for whoever can name the most.

Found this rock formation near land my family owned 150 years ago. It amused me to think they probably also stopped and stared, wondering how on earth such a ridiculous looking thing was formed
My favourite place to eat ice cream in the dead of winter

Red flag to a badger

Why do all children collect pebbles in their pockets?

My tomb should be so fancy

There be coal in them hills

The sound of rushing waters

Seriously, there really is a prize.

Wait Until Dark

Since I finished reading my Audrey Hepburn bio a couple months ago, we've been running an unofficial Audrey film season here at 45 Wall. Viewed so far, and following no particular order: Sabrina, Robin and Marian, Paris When It Sizzles, My Fair Lady... and tonight... I was feeling a little woosey at work, so evening plans were cancelled and I came home to a quiet apartment. All the flatmates were out. The perfect time to watch Wait Until Dark.

I don't as a rule have much patience for damsels in distress, and I'm a terrible armchair heroine - grumbling at the characters poor decisions under duress, shouting at the tv telling them to run the other way or just phone the blasted police already! But once Audrey took back contol, smashing out the lights, dousing nasty Alan Arkin with petrol and threatening him with matches, then acquainting him first with her kitchen knife and then a sideboard full of crockery. Ok, then I started to rather enjoy it. Almost makes one want to take on one's own band of sadistic crooks, though I'd rather just outsmart them than have to turn them into shish kabobs. Regrettably, New York is so safe these days...

One of my favourite comedians, Jeremy Hardy, is writing an account of his own family history explorations. The publisher claims it will be "part family memoir, part enquiry into the world of genealogy and part comic adventure - full of detours, wrong turnings and unexpected encounters with strange and interesting people". I can't wait! I love books about genealogy and family stories - I'm currently reading The Lost - and I'm a huge fan of Jeremy Hardy's Radio 4 appearances such as the The News Quiz - listen to the latest episode. I think this is going to be great. He just better hurry up and write the thing.

I've read a few other books that involve family histories like Tracy Chevalier's The Virgin Blue and most recently The Thirteenth Tale. If anyone can think of other similar books - fiction or non-fiction - please let me know. I've got at least another fifty years to keep myself happily entertained...

Overheard at the Bodleian Library (Oxford)

American tourist (to the Bodleian shop assistant): This building is lovely. Is it pre-war?
Shop assistant: Madame, this building is pre-America.

Thumbs up for Indy

Just listened to a glowing review of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on BBC Radio 4 arts show. Fingers crossed!

And speaking of music... I think I'm going to have to book myself in here. I loved The Sound of Music when I was a little girl, my favourite film. One of the most wonderful things I ever did was going on the Sound of Music tour in and around Salzburg. I was 7. We visited all the places where they filmed, the houses, the lake, the gazebo. I was so happy. And, I don't remember this myself, but according to Mum I sang all the songs the whole journey and at the end the couple sitting in front of us turned around and said thank you and how much theyhad enjoyed my little soundtrack.

I finally listened to Radiohead's In Rainbows. All the hype and controversy - and gnashing of teeth at EMI - I just wasn't interested when it was first released. I suppose I like it. It's good, much like Hail To the Thief. It's not one of the records that I go bonkers for and listen to over and over and over again. Last record like that was Interpol (Our Love to Admire), and before that probably Arcade Fire (Neon Bible). There's also a bizarre webcast which I rather enjoyed - I love that it pokes fun at Se7en which is the stupidest loved itself and up its own rear end film I've ever seen.

I haven't spent much time listening to music in a long while. That used to be such a big part of my life, listening to new music trying to find the best, going to see bands, that's nearly all Lauren and I did for ages. I guess my enthusiasm waned when I lost my partner in crime. (Lauren, please come back to New York). But sometimes I'm in the mood so to speak and I'll go out and buy a bunch of new records. I'm also listening to Regina Spektor (Begin to Hope), Goldfrapp (Seventh Tree) and Band of Horses (Cease to Begin).

And I'm watching back to back episodes of the BBC show Life on Mars (modern day policeman gets bonk on head, wakes up in 1973 - it's AAA-mazing) and I've got hooked on the music. Early seventies rock music like Cream ,Thin Lizzy, classic Elton John and of course David Bowie. Is there a better song than Life on Mars?!

No more Saudi Arabia

The Bovees are officially cutting ties with the kingdom of sun and sand. After fours months trying to get a new work visa, Dad has finally given up on going back to Saudi Arabia to work and will be making a short visit in the a few weeks time to retrieve his things from his apartment and say a final goodbye.

Saudi Arabia is no paradise and I would never wish to live there again. I haven't set foot in the place for over 8 years, but nevertheless it's where I spent my childhood and there is a certain pang, an odd feeling that comes when I think of how I will never go back now. Not that I had plans to, but this makes it so final.

I had a happy childhood. There were the usual upsets and embarassments, big scary dogs and mean kids on the school bus, but I had loving parents, a comfortable and inviting home and it was a safe place where we could roam freely without fear of anything really. I didn't realise it at the time, but my childhood seems to others so exotic and exciting. It was exotic and now I'm grown up I appreciate it. I was introduced a few weeks ago to a young woman here in New York who also grew up in Saudi Arabia and we hit it off immediately. It was wonderful to be able to talk to another person who knew all about our strange home.

I'm starting to sound all nostaligic. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot I shalln't miss. The crazy driving in Saudi towns, sitting in segregated restaurants, 110% humidity, the sickly smell of the smokestake on sulfur days. Being stared at. The fact that sometimes there was a war going on. All dreadful things, although it's still rather fun thinking about them all.

I guess my point is Saudi Arabia is a pretty crappy place, but yet how wonderful to have been there.

Things I do miss: Roger and Amanda (and all the other geckos who lived behind our television), the piles of palm tree husks after they'd been stripped bare, taking the "shoppers bus", the thrill of driving at the dizzying speed of 60 kph on the hobby farm road, Ambrose running/galloping in the desert. SHWARMAS. Oh how I miss Rahima shwarmas, though not the tummy aches I'd have after eating 8 of them in one sitting. And last but not least, I will never forget that strange sound they used to play before announcements at the Dhahran airport... I loved the (departure side of the) Dhahran airport.

Seaman First Class

I tried to get grandfather Warren Bovee's service records from WWII, but all they sent me was a Notice of Separation from US Naval Service. Here's what I learned:

His address at the time he joined up: 601 Stunts Avenue, Ashland, Wisconsin
He enlisted voluntarily (they may be what enlisted means) on 5 February 1943.
He was paid $414.14 upon discharge.
His last employer ws the Interlaes Steampship Company of Cleveland, Ohio.
His civilian occupation was Able Bodied Seaman.
His job preference on leaving the service was Movie projection machine operator.
He completed 8 years of grammar school and 1 year of high school.
He served on the vessel USS Gilligan.
He received an Honorable discharge.
Remarks: Good conduct, American Area Ribbon, Asiatic Pacific Ribbon 1 star, Philippine Liberation Ribbon, Victory medal

Stephen, some of this will make more sense to you. Feel free to comment when you are reading this next August.

What this didn't include was any information about his supposed injury and being taken out of service only to have his gun post destroyed some days later by a kamikaze attack. Am I remembering that correctly, Dad?

Today I love my job

I spent the afternoon researching Finland, or rather Finnish companies, their labour market and whatever else looked interesting. Now that's a bit more like it. An honest days graft and a good time had as well. I read about tens of billions of Euros earned from flogging mobile phones and chunky orange handled scissors. And they make lots and lots and lots of paper. Now there's a surprise!

I also came across this You Know You Have Been In Finland Too Long, When... I don't pretend to know much about Finland, but I thought some of them were quite funny (17 and 33 in particular).

And this Immigrant families lining up for substitute grandparents I thought was a terrific idea. Goes along with all my preconceived notions about how clever and community-minded Scandinavians all are.

Just 10 minutes sitting up in bed with my laptop and my arse has gone completely numb. I have got to get a new mattress!

My first business trip

Next Thursday I'm going on my first official trip for work. I was supposed to go to South Africa and Botswana when I worked at the Foreign Office, but disaster struck, and I can't say any more it's making me upset thinking about it.

So next Thursday and Friday I will be at the Washington DC office, meeting with all the Workforce Sciences team members based down there. I want them to give me work, so it will be good to introduce myself, hopefully inspire some confidence, make friends and, you know, show them what a brainy bunny I am. They have a lot of External Labour Market analysis projects based out of their office (locating pools of talent, helping companies decided where to recruit/relocate) which could be fun. I spent some time my first couple weeks reviewing French, Swiss and Italian websites looking for the top technology schools in those countries. I want to do more of that.

They're putting me up in a hotel near the office Thursday night, and then I will stay on for the weekend with Kelly. Two trips for the price of one. I'm really excited!

I love shopping for books. I'll spend hours stalking the shelves of a bookshop. I'm not very good at making my mind up, and there so many to choose from. I so much prefer the old fashioned sort of bookshop, the musty smell, the new and secondhand books all jumbled up together, the basements and little rooms tucked away at the back. In London those shops are dying off one by one, and in New York they barely exist at all.

So my new bookshop is online. I decided yesterday to buy some new books. I just finished a book about Audrey Hepburn (a gift from my lovely auntie Paddy) and need something to read. I have unread books on my shelves at home... but I just couldn't help myself. I spent two wonderful hours (it could have been longer) browsing books and finally settled on three:

"The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million" the story of an NY journalist who went in search of six relatives who were lost in the Holocaust, a sort of family history detective story of how he traced them and discovered who they were;
"Homemade Biography: How to Collect, Record and Tell the Life Story of Someone You Love" (yes Mum and Dad that's you!);
and "The Thirteenth Tale" about a woman who writes the biography of a mysterious author, part family history tale, part ghost story, it sounded intriguing.

I'm cheap so I went for the free shipping which takes forever. I think I'll read my Eric Clapton book in the meantime. Or The Master and Margherita. Or Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows again. Or...

A baby of my own

I've promised myself, if I move back to England I'm finally getting a car, and not just any car. I want an Audi TT. It's a quiet day at the office, so I had a look on the interweb, and I found my dream car. For a second-hand motor, this is just heaven. They're affordable at 10k. And just look at her:

This is a real car, for sale right now. What an exquisite colour. I'm in love. Seriously.

My little sister Lucy and her bun in the oven are coming to visit over 4th of July weekend!

It's the year of Bovees in NYC. Mum and J came in February, Lucy's coming in July and Dad and Stephen will be visiting sometime in the summer. It's like buses... you wait four years, and then they all come at once!

Three generations

I took a day trip to Boston on Saturday to search old newspapers for obituaries and announcements relating to my Massachusetts relatives. I had five hours in the Microtext room and managed to find a few articles. Apart from their intrinsic value, they also provided a few clues for me to follow up. After the library, I rejoined my traveling companion Dave Almond, who had spent the afternoon sightseeing, and we went to the North End for a delicious Italian dinner, spaghetti alla vongole.

Skimming through microfilm (especially of old newspapers with their tiny, headache inducing print) can be laborious, but it’s exhilarating when you spot a familiar name and hungrily scan the surrounding words for anything new and unknown.

My search turned up obituaries for three generations of the Paul-O’Brien family, gt-gt-gt-grandfather Frank Paul, his daughter Mary Ann Paul O’Brien and her daughter Hester O’Brien Smith.

Frank Paul is an intriguing character, and my most exotic forebearer. I am very proud of my Azorean/Portuguese roots. According to the article, Frank was a founding member of the Monte Pio Society of New Bedford. The society was founded in 1882 and is still listed in the phonebook. Surely they have a commemorative photograph of their founders.

Mary Ann’s obituary provides no new information other than the church where her funeral took place, however, this is a very moving tribute to what sounds like a lovely lady. Now, I did think that perhaps all these obits contain the same patter about loving wife, devoted mother, sure friend, blah, blah, blah. But it also occurred to me that if she’d in reality been a miserable so and so, they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble and expense of having such a long write up in the paper. So I’ve decided to take it pretty much at face value.
My first thoughts on reading this were of how much these words reminded me of my own mother.

Mary Ann’s youngest daughter Hester, Alfred O’Briens littlest sister, had proved somewhat illusive, but when I was preparing last week for this trip, I had a brain wave and managed to find Hester under her married name in the social security death index, which pointed me to the Hyannis, MA newspaper, the Cape Cod Times.

I mentioned how important it is to find photographs and the best source is of course other living relatives. Finding them has become my newest quest. It says Hester left two nieces (this could be my grandmother and her sister Mary) although it seems more likely the two nieces and three nephews all come from those sisters and brothers listed, along with the next youngest sister Grace O’Brien Hamlin who had died just two years before.

So I have two projects to concentrate on. Tracking down Monte Pio Society and their archives (which they better have!) and finding the families of Paul, Lucy, Grace and Hester O’Brien. Wish me luck.