Damp Peculiar Weather, Milking Cows and Ancestry

Date:   1/28/2021

Dad Joke:  A grenade thrown into a kitchen in France would result in Linoleum Blownapart.  (That is bad, but I like it as a “historyophile”.)   

Random Thoughts on a Passing Scene:  

It was so icy this AM from dew, humidity and generally damp peculiar weather that I had to abort my early AM walk. I simply was slipping with every step.  And, the fog was thicker than pea soup.

When I wrote “damp peculiar” above, I immediately thought of my Grandfather Avender.   In our entire time together (and we did spend a lot of time together doing farm chores), I only heard him cuss once.  This was when a Holstein heifer, learning to be milked, kicked the milk pail over, knocking my Grandfather back, him getting swatted by a tail to add further insult,  etc.  At this point, a German expletive that clearly had something to do with “God” was heard.    However, always with a twinkle in his eye and a slight smile, he liked to find occasion to say that the weather was “damp-peculiar” - blurring together the two “p’s” like he was getting away with something!

More to do than can ever be done: Hand-milk a cow.  The last times I had to milk cows were a lifetime ago.   I am not sure I could still hand-milk a cow.  Maybe it is like riding a bike…once learned always comes back to you?  

More to see than can ever be seen:  I can’t tell you how many dairy cow calves (both Holstein and Jersey breeds) and Hereford Breed calves I saw born all those farm-years ago.    These events – although I guess may be “something to be seen” – should not necessarily be considered something to place on your “must see” bucket lists.  (Enough of these bovine–related postings, already!)

More to know than can ever be known:   

In an earlier and extensive post, I wrote about financial management and the creation of wealth.  Today, I will share another type of “wealth” anecdote.

During my long career at Barrick, I had occasion to meet, and give tours to, many high-ranking business men and politicians.  I was often the go-to Manager for tour groups.  This may have been due to my “way” with people as well as my knowledge of the history and workings of the mine site.  And, of course, I was and remain a “talker”.   (Sorry, that was a humble brag.)

 On one such occasion in the late-1990s, the head of the geologic agencies of Romania walked into my office.  I can no longer recall his name.   However, he was in appearance a dapper old man in a nice suit – envision like an Eastern European Hercules Poirot-type.  He had iron-grey short hair and a neatly-trimmed grey moustache.  Pretty sure that he also sported a Fedora hat, so he immediately impressed me!  (This is a reference to my campaign to re-introduce the wearing of dress-hats to modern men’s wear instead of wearing ball-caps as a fashion statement.  And, while I am at it: When did it become common place and acceptable good manners to NOT remove your head gear when inside?!)

As this Romanian gentleman entered my office (with his hat off and held in his hand, with his overcoat folded over his arm, a scarf around his neck – you get the picture) I turned and stood up from my desk to greet him.  However, he first walked across my room to look at a family photo displayed on the wall.  His first words to me were: “You are a wealthy man.”  As we exchanged names and introductions, he explained that I was blessed and wealthy because in the family photo there were five children around JLOB and me.   He further explained that in Romania during the 20^th Century his country had been on the losing side of two World Wars and endured, arguably, one of the worst Communist Era regimes.   Thus, generations of men were lost to war and suppression by the Communists.  This resulted in few young people in his country.  He had only one son who never married and likely would never have children.  His family situation was the norm for his country then.  So for him, my real wealth was in the children and grandchildren to come.   Subsequent to his time with me, we did exchange Christmas letter for a few years until time and distance intervened.  

(Note:  When he visited Barrick, his new non-Communist government was doing all it could to re-vitalize and renew Romania.  I have not followed up on current conditions in Romania….ask EAB II as she has toured Eastern Europe.)

There is one more tidbit from his visit that deals directly with our family genealogy.  While in my office, he also asked about a framed military document hanging in my room.   This is an official document attesting to my Great Grandfather’s service in the Austro-Hungarian Army during the 19^th Century.    He asked me, “What is your connection to the document?”  And then proceeded to read it, translating dates, places and names.  He told me my Great Grandfather was born in Transylvania (much to our interest due to the connection with Dracula in our culture.  Hey, my and your ancestors could have been serfs or noblemen with connections to THE DRACULA of history!)   For the record, I retain my Great Grandfather’s document.   This should most likely pass on to EAB I and kept as family history.   The Great Grandfather in question lived into the mid-1950s and I have early memories – mostly visual – of him.   On the document, his name in the Old Country is spelled as Andrus Fillipi. He was a farrier (took care of the horses) in a Calvary Regiment.  He was born in 1861.  He was father to my grandmother, Anna Phillipi Avender.

There you have it.

TAB