Adalaide Street, Windsor

My mother died in February of this year at the ripe old age of ninety seven.  She had a cousin Mary who died at one hundred and one and was most put out that she could not attend a funeral for her because she was an atheist.  One of the things that is a source of connection with our past and ancestors is having places to visit.  Adelaide Street in Windsor was a place my mother took me to see the home where her father was born and raised.

His name was Arthur Brown and stood bold and brash in a family picture in the back garden of the terraced home where his mother and father who was the chief carpenter at Windsor Chapel.  One of thirteen children who could choose to have bread with butter or jam as my mother used to say as a way of making it clear to me that sacrifices were part of growing up.  Her father looked like a dandy!  After meeting my grandmother Ida who was the daughter of a sea captain they never visited his family as a couple because my grandmother thought them beneath her class.  In England the class distinctions were very strong and people could tell who belonged in the lower working class by the way they spoke and where they could afford to live.  My grandmother would pace outside my grandfather's home when he went home to visit but didn't go in.

After seeing the outside of the home my mother took me to an iron fenced old graveyard close by where we visited the graves of my mother's parental grandparents.  She liked to have contact with the places that held their memory and it created a certainty in our own lives about being part of the bigger picture of the Brown family from Windsor.  In 1960 we visited my mother's uncle at Wimbledon Hospital who was alert and friendly at 104 years old.  He didn't have any place to go when his housekeeper was hospitalized so he went to hospital too and caught pneumonia and died shortly after.

One thing I can be sure of is that on my mother's side of the family there is longevity!  However, on my father's side the counterbalance of hereditary disease at the young age of 48 makes the odds about 50:50.  At least I can hope for old age but enjoy life anyway.  Luckily through my spiritual path I have become vegetarian and health conscious and thus reduced my chances of developing cancer of the colon that my father suffered.  Our family ancestors have been strong and able to overcome odds and perils in a way that we have not had to deal with in our modern life of luxury.  Even though I have worked hard and raised by a widow of four children I know that I have always been able to earn a living and raise my daughter on a nursing salary while her father completed his education.

I love to visit England and call my brother who lives outside London to talk about his health and life since he spent the last ten years taking care of our mother.  My sister was always the blond haired blue eyed favorite of my mother's and I was referred to as "that Rita!"  Some of the time with my mother was okay but for the most part it was a very difficult relationship and particularly since my sister did mean things to me then had my mother's support for every undertaking in her life.  I kept quiet about my sister's spite because I wouldn't be supported by our mother.  Unless blood was visible which happened when we lived in Carvongu in the bush along the coast of Kenya.  I remember looking into a bogelvelia bush that our mother had planted in our garden which had prickly thorns when my sister pushed me from behind.  I still have scars on the inside of both thighs from the deep cuts and scratches.

My sister's manipulation and my mother's favoritism toward her lasted until practically the end of our mother's life when she learned that our brother had lost the sight in his eye due to a punch during an argument between my siblings.  When my brother told me what happened I could not imagine how such a drastic amount of damage could have resulted because I have seen facial wounds from fights between patients in psychiatric wards and none that I had witnessed resulted in blindness.  I later found out that my sister had taken karate lessons and had learned this technique for hitting someones eye in her class.  Needles to say I am supportive of my brother because I too have been victim to my sister's spite.  Like the time she punched my in the jaw when I was thirteen and our mother had allowed us to go on vacation to Somerset with the girl next door who was fifteen.  I drank merry down which is an alcoholic drink like cider but more potent.  I really was out of my league with older girls who could carry their liquor so much better and punish me who was not used to it!



Take care and do your own family review and decide where to put your time and effort.  My sister is superficial for sure and although I had gone along with her ways in the past I now have drawn a line in the sand.  I have not worked for the past two years due to a legal issue that I was cleared of and now have to defend myself from an attack by the state board of nursing on my professional standing and reputation.  I know one thing for sure - you either have to learn to fight back in life and that is what personal responsibility is about or be a victim.  See where you stand in your life and decide what steps you need to take to develop courage to stand firm in your convictions.  Two checks written to me and one for eight hundred and twenty dollars as a gift from my brother and mother were not honored by my sister and her husband.  I now have those checks at a lawyer's office.  It doesn't mean that I have any dislike, hatred or animosity, it's just I have learned to put myself first.

I am a Professional Life Coach and can be contacted at lawrencerita511@gmail.com
I require individuals to commit to a regular practice of meditation and vegetarian diet.  I also promote antioxidants and you can go to my site at http://myrain.me/rita