How I got started.

About 15 years ago I started working in a sheltered housing complex. The elderly I cared for were are all local men and women. One day a 92 year old lady says to me " I see you are a Robertson ". I had never heard this name in my family before so I told her that I wasn't related to Robertson's and she must have mistaken me for someone else. She laughed and says " Is your grandfather Jimmy Kellas? " and I says "Yes he is". She looked at me and says " Well you are off the Robertsons, Mary Robertson was your grandfathers mum". I couldn't wait to speak to my mum and she confirmed this to me. Since then I have been hooked on researching my family tree. I get a buzz out of finding new people and another line to my family tree.

 

Wow... what are the odds?

 

Thanks for this lovely story, you must have a strong resemblance to Mary Robertson.
When I look in the mirror I see my own mum and wonder if she experienced the same. It was my mum who gave me lots of info about the family when I told her I'd like to do a family tree. There are questions I didn't get to asking her before she died and have kicked myself a few times about that.

 

I think we have all had that thought, "If only"

 

The theme of this posting reminds attending a wedding reception way back in the 1980's where I was related on my mother's side (she was long deceased) and not just a friend of the bridge or groom. My wife and I found our seats from place cards and discovered we were next to elderly ladies who we did not know, or they us. After the meal we got chatting and found them lovely company when suddenly one turned to the other and said... "doesn't he remind you of Billy Spiers who married cousin Hilda"? Taken aback, I said perhaps that was not all that surprising, considering my father was a Billy Spiers and my mother a Hilda. Now aware I was his son and knowing my father had died some 2 years previous, they commiserated on his death and then went on to regale me with stories of his football prowess as a young man (he was a keen amateur footballer, unlike his son). I heard tale after tale of exploits which I am sure would have made Dad blush were he present, and turned the occasion into a very memorable one.

 

Edit: before anyone comments I should have said Bride or Groom not Bridge or Groom

 

Same here, especially when I wear a hat. Interestingly, my daughter resembles my husband's side and my son, my side.

 

I only have a daughter, she must be the milkman's because her father (my ex and now deceased) and I are/were both brown hair and brown eyes. Daughter is a blue/green eyed blonde.

 

I almost forgot the the 'cherry on the cake' end to my wedding attendance story above. One of the ladies went on to say that she bet I did not know that the father of the bride (the groom was my Uncle, my mother's younger brother and his second wedding) used to be a boyhood pal of your father's. They were inseparable, his name was Ernie and we'll introduce you if you like.

So I met him and the look of surprise when he learned who I was was palpable and he shook my hand for it seemed like ever. He took me over to his daughter (the bride) and said something like..." you'll never guess who this is", and went on to explain I was the son of his old boyhood pal Billy Spiers and how sad that he had died before learning his brother in law would go on to marry his old pals daughter.

We did eventually recall it was not our first meeting because I had met him at Dad's funeral. I also learned there had been a third pal Harold (who it seems had pre-deceased my father) so only Ernie remained. I sat with him for quite a while and learned even more about my late father and the boyhood antics they all got up to. Such moment are precious especially when later becoming interested in family history.