Sunday, May 18, 2014

The Homeland

Me - Probably 12 or 13 yrs old 
Camp Richildaca, ON.

The older I get, the more I seem to be "pining for the old country". I was made in England ;-) and born in Canada. My parents came over to Canada on the boat for the second time when Chris, the eldest, was 12, Bruce was 9 and Philip was one. I traveled as a stowaway inside my mother and I am determined that this is why I love the ocean, waves and surfing. 

One night on the crossing aboard the RMS Empress of Canada, the Atlantic was so rocky that my mother and Chris were the only two guests in the dining room along with a few service staff that were not ill with sea-sickness. My mother was very proud of that. I remember her all puffed up with it when she regaled us with the tale. 

We went back to England frequently as children. My parents traveled back on business with the parent company for whom they provided a Canadian branch in our hometown of Richmond Hill, Ontario and they usually made a family vacation of it. We went back to visit relatives and friends of my parents and to explore their favourite vacation spots. There were places that, even as a child, blew my mind. Among them were the grandeur, history and tradition of both the University of Oxford and Cambridge University, the size and wonder of Stonehenge - standing below one of the great upright monoliths in wonder, St Paul's Cathedral and the Whispering Gallery, the  thatched roofs of the Cotswolds and meeting the parents of my mum's wartime love on their farm there and feeling the love and intensity of loss between them and my mum. Lyme Regis and the Alexandra Hotel, where we met another family with kids and my brother and I fell for the same girl - tragically and, of course, she fell for him... I remember excavating fossils along the Jurassic Coast and getting quite embarrassingly stuck up on the cliffs. How sweet my eldest brother was to take Philip and I out on a mackerel fishing boat with our lines and wooden spools. Poor Chris loathed the look and feel of live fish!

I remember the sites and smells. They are ingrained in the fibre of my being. Hemel Hempstead in Hertfordshire - being able to finally be old enough to venture out on my own and browse through the shops on the high street. My cousin, Karen, is my closest relation. We are daughters of sisters, women warriors and survivors. I have not seen her for 32 years. I have not been back and, now, every fibre in my being is being pulled back with a magnetic force I have never previously experienced. I need to go. I need to see my people. I need to walk the places of my childhood. I need to take a trip across the pond to the Guidel Communal Cemetery in Brittany near the Gulf of Morbihan where there lies a marker for my mother's wartime love, Richard, shot down in the second world war. 

I remember,vividly,standing on the grounds of Biggin Hill Fighter Station, listening to my mum tell us the story of a German plane being shot down and crashing into the base, the air raid siren going off and because of her exhaustion, she stayed in her barracks bed until the windows imploded with the explosion. She showed us the scar above her eyebrow where the glass from the window had just missed her eye. I will never forget these things. I tell them here and hope my brother has told his children - lest we forget.

I remember the Tower of London, Westminster Cathedral, Buckingham Palace - waving to the queen as she returned from the race track. I remember how mum nearly had me convinced that Kensington Gardens belonged to her family but I just couldn't wrap my head around why they would leave if that were true! I remember cruising down the Thames, thinking of all that has passed over and through that historic river. I remember my mum losing her watch by Big Ben - irony...

I am attached to this country and my body has begun to call me home. I will need to scrimp and save but I know I will return to her soon.I will see the green patchwork of farmer's fields and walk the paths of some of the greatest writers ever known. I will cry for family gone, to whom I never was able to say my goodbyes. I will walk and walk through the streets of London and breathe deeply in the arms of remaining family. I will know that I am from this land. I am of these people and I am one with England through my bloodline and the soil and ocean that surrounds this faraway island. I will see the new friends I have met through the wonder of Twitter and we will sit and talk story over tea. 

I will see you soon, England. I carry you with me always. 

-Gillian Cornwall, c. May 18, 2014.

 My brother, Philip, and me 
A couple of very British-looking kids in Richmond Hill in the early 1960s



6 comments:

Romina Hendryanto said...

Aww, Gillian, I love your story. I like the irony, the matter of facts, the romance, the patriotism, the pictures (you were so cute and still are), everything. Love it!! Thank you for sharing you, my friend!

Gillian said...

Ahh Romina! Thank you very much. I'm pleased you enjoyed this wee walk thru my heart.
Very best wishes to you.

Karen Jay said...

Gillian, this is one of your loveliest pieces - I'm pining for this version of home too. It's here and it's waiting for you. We can do all those things and more. We can go to Stratford-on-Avon to see some Shakespeare, Brighton for shopping in The Lanes (your mother loved it there),tea at the Savoy (another of the sisters' old haunts) and more. I do remember the watch story so clearly - Eunice said "I put it right by Big Ben" and it was either Chris or Bruce who quipped "What did you put it there for?". I thought they were the funniest boys... I often drive past the road where they lived - "Princes Park" sounds so salubrious but was actually on a Council estate. We'll go and peer through the windows (Pierre Trudeau windows?). Take care cuz xxx

Unknown said...

this is sooo wonderful-of course its not my old country but you know it pulls me too :) you really captured a longing in this that makes me want to start scrimping and saving :)

Gillian said...

Dear Kaz - Thank you so much - yes those brothers were a funny bunch. There appears to be a knack for wit in our clan. ;-) I miss you so though I know you run through me as my own blood. I will see you soon - of that, I have no doubt. I long to hug you tight and to go to all of those places. I want to hear what you know and remember. I know so little of our people. Much love to you until we meet again. Aloha in lokahi (love in unity)Your soul sister and cousin, Gillian

Gillian said...

Unknown - I wonder if you are Joe?! Thank you for your comment and yes, we both have such strong ties to the land and the people of that mighty isle. Perhaps one day we will walk the green fields together and hunker down for a beer and a chat by a river in Hertfordshire!