Categories
ME

A Visit To My Past Through A Film

A Visit To My Past Through A Film

INVERNESS, SCOTLAND

A city on Scotland’s northeast coast, where the River Ness meets the Moray Firth. It’s the largest city and the cultural capital of the Scottish Highlands. Its Old Town features 19th-century Inverness Cathedral, the mostly 18th-century Old High Church and an indoor Victorian Market selling food, clothing and crafts. The contemporary Inverness Museum and Art Gallery traces local and Highland history.


INVERNESS, QUEBEC

Irishman William Bennet came to Inverness Township in 1819, but the first colony dates to 1829 with the arrival of 12 families from the Isle of Arran, Scotland. Their descendants built two churches in the village: St. Andrew’s Presbyterian (1862) and the old Methodist Church (1862), now a bronze foundry.


My Grandfather Ernest Romanzo Davidson was born in Inverness Township, Megantic County, Quebec, Canada (a Scottish settlement) 14 November 1881 and died 4 September 1933 in Wells River, Vermont.

In the early 90s I drove to Montreal for a Dystonia Symposium for doctors, in place of the doctor who was invited and couldn’t attend. Although I wasn’t a doctor I had sufficient knowledge on the topic that he thought it would be beneficial, plus I have dystonia.

The evening before it started, I drove out to Inverness, about a two and a half hour drive. One very long paved, country road, no traffic, not a single car but mine.

When I reached Inverness and saw a general store, I got out and looked back to where I had started – it was flat land – and saw all the city lights of Montreal light up the sky in the distance, which made me decide to on head back before it got too dark. There were no street lights as I recall.

When I called my mother in Massachusetts and told her I went to Inverness, she asked if it was a town or a city. Frankly, “I don’t know”, I told her. All I knew was that I was in Inverness – what lied beyond that general store was a mystery. I didn’t see any signs of a town or city from that vantage point, only a store.

Well, this morning, about twenty-five years later, I thought to look up Inverness, Scotland and Inverness, Quebec. I didn’t know that Inverness, Scotland was the capital city of the Scottish Highlands. Upon looking up Inverness, Quebec, and seeing the images, it was a town for sure. It looked like there had been no population surge or building boom in that tiny region of Quebec. Not even a hotel – upon checking. Lots around them though at a distance.

One of the first images that stuck out to me was that General Store. Wow. Right there looking as it did back then, probably some changes in sign content. It was like I was there again.

I’ll never forget that drive along that long road, talking in my mind to Uncle Ernie I used to call him. My mother didn’t like that title. “No one ever called him Ernie, and he was your grandfather not your uncle, but me being playful stuck with the Uncle Ernie.

Frankly, I don’t think Grandpa Ernest minded – at least I was talking to him directly, how many others do that? They usually go through God in prayer.

Anyway I never know much about any of my roots from any of the countries linked to me by ancestry – my mother and father didn’t talk that way. There were always more pressing issues in life than obsessing over where your people came from. Others make careers out it, for the purpose of exploitation, or just because they have separatists natures and cling to their ethnicity or race or religion for comfort.

I didn’t find out that I was Scottish till I was in high school and my parents had the neighbors over for dinner, who were Polish, and one of them remarked, “I wasn’t expecting to be served pierogi in a Scottish household”.

Later that night after everyone went to bed and my father and I remained at the table, I said, “I didn’t know I was Scottish”. He quickly retorted rather gruffly, “You’re not, you’re Lithuanian and don’t ever forget it”.

I was a quiet, not-looking-for-trouble, rather everybody get along, have fun and don’t fight so much, kind of kid, rather to please than disrupt, still independent though and firm in my beliefs, although I kept them mostly to myself.

People can pretty much discern you by your actions; they don’t need to hear you pontificate or hypothesize, or tell your story or opinions that change like the wind.

Still, I do all that now, and love doing it, but never with malice, I truly do respect people for being people and the struggles they’re confronted with just by the fact that they’re living, and not so much for what they do, but again I usually do understand the ‘WHY’, and when I don’t, the ‘WHY’ is where I look first to bring out the truth – whatever that means – even I’m not sure. It’s not like I developed a standardized process for everything I think or do or figure out.

Actually, since early childhood till the present day my primary question in life is why people do what they do.

So yeah, looking back and later watching the entire Lithuanian surge for independence and hearing them sing while holding lighted candles, not so much in protest but rather to show to the world what they wanted and deserved in a peaceful, non-violent way impressed me. In fact they, more than the Africans, adopted Martin Luther King’s non-violent process for social change.

Seeing them fail only to rise again triumphant made me identify with them more closely than my other ethnicities, and even though I didn’t speak much ‘way back when’, my father saw those qualities in me from early on.

It wasn’t until I saw the movie Brave Heart or portions of it that my eyes opened and then wanted to shut, being too young and peaceful leaning to understand the type of brutality people endure and impose on each other for their freedom rights. It seems everybody wants to Lord over everybody else and when others oppose it, violence occurs to protect it. I see it all over the world. Minorities trying to rise to dominate the majority, and often times winning, but at a tremendous cost.

This was a film made about Scotland. I’m seventy years old and just started watching it again on NETFLIX only to be cut off halfway through. Guess I’ll have to wait a bit more till they fix it and maybe scold the person who broke it – in my mind at least.

But I found another one – a series with three seasons so far and I only have three episodes to go and when it’s done I will miss it. It’s called OUTLANDER, another movie about Scotland, more specifically, the Scottish Highlands and done so well and creatively that I had to start pacing myself, so it would last longer.

I don’t usually recommend movies, because Steve and I watch so many of them, but this one excels in all the right ways. One small criticism – the sex scenes are wa-a-y too long. Other than that, I look forward to a season four!

THE MAGICAL STONES

Visiting the past for the purpose of changing the future.

What a trip that was!


https://theplanetd.com/clava-cairns-scotland/





Categories
CORE STORIES

IT’S A NATURAL SOLUTION

IT’S A NATURAL SOLUTION

My grandfather Ernest Romanzo Davidson was born a Scot in Quebec, Canada who emigrated to the USA and later became a Naturalized Citizen. He came to the USA looking for work. He was a caretaker\groundskeeper.


IT’S A NATURAL SOLUTION

Make all legal immigrants from all countries living in the USA for five years, who are employed in the USA, Naturalized Citizens by decree, with all the rights and responsibilities of USA citizens. No other preconditions.

Make all illegal immigrants living in the USA for five years, who are employed in the USA, Naturalized Citizens by decree, with all the rights and responsibilities of USA citizens. No other preconditions.

When some say it isn’t fair to those who had to go through a program to become a citizen: Keeping fifteen million people underground was tantamount to imprisonment; that wasn’t fair either. Even if it was by their own design, we the people looked away, because they wanted us to.

For those illegal immigrants, it is in the National Security interest of the USA to make them belong somewhere to someone to some country. The best option, since they’re already here is to accept them as part of the USA family.

We the people should learn that we can’t keep looking away, just because someone wants us to look the away.

It is way too late, fifteen million people too late, to resist amnesty. In bulk or en masse or as individuals they made contributions to this country.

Those in prison will also become citizens. Their criminal status will not change.

You cannot be a citizen of two countries and receive benefits from both.

The path to citizenship turned out to be a path to nowhere.

Make it as quick and as painless as possible. This will in no way absolve any person, citizen or not, legal or not, from any crimes committed against America, its people and/or its land and/or property.

This is not a criminal’s dream. Criminals will still be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

This is a people’s dream come true – advantageous to everyone.

Build a moat around the castle. Fill it with alligators and adjust numbers of immigrants allowable from all countries worldwide according to what the USA can withstand while still profiting and thriving as a nation and as individuals without any backslides that would hurt the existing citizenry.

Moat, castle, alligators are metaphors for structures and systems and deterrents used to control the flow of illegal immigrants.




Name Birth

Death

Ernest Romanzo Davidson

14 Nov 1881 – Inverness Township, Megantic County, Quebec, Canada

04 Sept 1933 – Wells River, Orange, Vermont, USA

maternal grandfather of Sharon  Lee Davies-Tight


11-14-07 letter from Mom Davies.

Dear Sharon, Steve and Rose, Today is the anniversary of my Dad’s birthday & he would have been 125 yr. old. Ernest Romanzo Davidson. The Romanzo was after an Indian who delivered him. He came to the states, married my Mom and died at 51 when I was a month from 7 yrs, and I remember everything about him.

He knelt beside my bed with me and taught me “Now I lay me down to sleep”. He was always there to help everyone at any time. He started to call me “Pearly” which my Mom didn’t like, so she decided I would be called Margaret. From then on he never called me anything but “punkin”. He never spanked me–my Mom took care of that–but she never spanked after Dad died.

I think her silence from time to time was worse than spanking!

Sharon and Steve, I was so thrilled with Evangeline!!! I read aloud from it this A.M. From 4-6-a peaceful time to read! Rick came with Alex @ 7:30 and I showed them and they thought it was great. The notes from you both were also special.

As I was reading about the Smithie, I recalled that Uncle Jim Mills started out as a blacksmith in Ryegate Corner, VT. at the same time buying and selling farms (a real estate agent?) From there he settled in a large farm in Wells River where they took my mother when she was seven years old. The farm still stands.

After retiring, they moved into town & bought the large Deming residence. He died 2 weeks before my Dad in the same house leaving his wife with five farms during the depression. She eventually sold them herself. I remember the paper she wrote, I, John Doe, do promise to pay Nellie Mills_____monthly. Total was $1000.00. Signed, John Doe. Witness Wendell Clark.

Now I remember his name–James Peavey. Because he never missed a payment when his veteran’s check came in, she never charged him interest. “AN HONEST MAN” she said. I don’t remember her ever preaching to me, but she constantly talked about the good things so & so did.

She never turned a hobo away from her door, but gave them some little chore to do so they could feel better about the meal. Imagine a 71 year old woman having brought up her sister (my grandmother) when she was 7, took my mother when she was 7 & myself when I was 7.

After her daughter died, she had a Seth Thomas clock put in the Wells River Cong. Church where I was baptized. Their only child Vera (Mrs. Verne Howard) died young in childbirth. One baby stillborn & Mom & 2nd baby died together. When Uncle Jim died, she had an archway put in the W.R. Cemetery MILLS MEMORIAL ARCH. As you enter, it says “I am the resurrection & the life”–as you leave “He that believeth in me shall never die”.

Because my mother had to leave town to find work after Dad died, my brother Jimmy (James Mills Davidson) & I stayed in W.R. Jim stayed until he married. I completed 8th grade there & was sent to be with my Mom in Bethlehem, N.H. & the Pierce family.

Nannie said a girl that age should be with her Mom. Of course I was sad and didn’t understand the reasoning then, but it turned out to be a very good choice. There was the Mom & Dad, a cousin their age, an invalid Gram who kept busy preparing veggies from big garden, knitting mittens for everyone & reading Grace Livingston Hills many love stories.

I became very involved with Methodist Episcopal church & was briefly, before I graduated, Superintendent of Sunday School. A couple years I was President of North Country Youth Fellowship. I had always loved school, did well & played basketball since 7th grade in W.R. I graduated in 1943 and still remember the final quote from my graduation speech. We had to write & memorize our own speeches. “He only earns his freedom and existence who daily conquers them anew. And such a throng I fain would see– stand on free soil among a people free! Then dare I hold the moment fleeing. Aye, linger a while, so fair thou art” ~ Goethe.

This was during WWII when our boys were leaving for war after graduation. Speaking of “Smithie”, it reminded me of a poem I heard Nannie quote, “Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree, a Village Smithie Stands”. I went to one of my poetry books & found it–also written by Henry W. Longfellow.

Nov. 16. Evangeline has sure taken me on a poetic journey! Now I’ll finish your letter. Yesterday I went to the hairdresser & weekly lunch @ the Senior Center where I had a lovely lunch of salmon boat with stuffing and dill sauce, broccoli, home fries, wheat bread and birthday cake for a member recovering from stroke. Alex went on field trip to Sturbridge yesterday. RAIN!!!

Thank you so much again for all your caring. Love & prayers, Mom.