When I read this piece from Heather, it seems that she too is one of those from afar, who is smitten by some blood disease, that draws us back to Orkney like overdue migrating birds in some mystical and all-powerful spring. People who live in Orkney may not understand this phenomenon, but I discovered by accident, that some there, surly do. I have always been impressed with nature, especially when the powers of it are experienced in some remote powerful place. A flower or a tree is always impressive on a busy urban concrete streetscape. But a sea pink twitching in a stiff sea breeze from it's rocky foundation, on the shore of Papa Stronsay, facing east to Norway over that big tempestuous sea, commands your full attention when tripping along the rocks on the shore, you discover it by chance. Tiny there it beckons, flashing bold pink against the dark grey stoney ledges. This experience I had. The sunsets that Sian described, are more powerful than any words ever spoken. These sorts of treasures on this troubled planet, seem to endure the test of time, and you don't have to wander far in nature to discover them, and if you are by yourself, they are overpowering at times. At least that is how I am affected by them. Orkney is a smorgasbord of nature's delights, prepared to perfection and served with great presentation. Nature and the beauty of it, in Orkney, has not been overwhelmed as it has been in too many places. The pace is slow enough, to enjoy it. I sat one summer night, on the only little sugar sand beach on Papa Stronsay. I wore a camo jacket with a hood, and sat on a little ridge that hung above the sand, watching two seals who garbled at me in the almost midnight sunset, one of which wanted to know what I was, and eventually "he" swam in very close while "she" drifted off the beach at a distance. I imagined what it must have been like years before. When I described this spot to the man who graciously invited me there, I explained that this little sand beach was perhaps the only place where a Viking ship could have snuck in there, as did Thorfinn the Great when he hunted down and killed his enemy Roganveld. My host later explained that where I had been sitting was a couple hundred yards or so from where Roganvald was killed! My paternal forbear from which our name evolved, was married to a Thorfinn, which made this site and evening event for me rather overwhelming. Heather's selkies revelation is something which I relate to. Roganvald There is an old Christian hymn which has endured several funeral celebration type services, for members of my immediate family. The words in this hymn connect the power and wonders of nature, to the reality of the Creator. It is a valid concept regardless of how or to whom you pray: "I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder, thy power throughout the universe displayed." And also..." When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur, and hear the brook, and feel the gentle breeze." Funny to observe in a place packed with mourning people stunned with the passing of a friend or relative, how this tune catches hold, with the nature of it's wording, and people who are known to seldom sing, chirp away like bluebirds on a fence. I guess it becomes obvious, that Orkney's islets are every one something like those more southern castles, each with a natural moat around them. The Orkney ferries are the mounts that carry the inhabitants from castle to castle. The variable alluring seas that spread them apart, mystically and spiritually, bind them together, as does the amazing history. Thank goodness for books, because if I had to recall to memory half of what I have read of Orkney, truly interesting stuff...I would frustrate myself into the ground. There is so much fascinating printed material to soak up. To have roots in those events, is somehow a huge reward in life. I have spent now six years chipping away at a written version of our family's little chip of that huge tree, something I must complete before I "check out" or my kids and theirs just will never "get it. Of my grandparents crew of about 150 people, I am the least qualified to write this, yet the most interested. Others are climbing on board now, and I giggled when my cousin Paul and my Uncle Gord each called to ask if they could come up and shoot a video, to preserve what I had learned, in case I should exit before the completion. Thus, the book has become my life insurance! To Bruce and to Sian, to have chosen to live where chickens are free to roam, and selkies can sing at midnight without fear of reprisal, and sunsets and merry dancers knock your eyes out, is somehow wholly right-minded. To have the guts to make the switch, following your heart, is something which draws envy from those who hear a call, but can't somehow tune it in, or react to reap the reward. I understand from Sian that Orkney too, on her little island, has it's problems. But they must pale when the sun paints it's face on calm morning waters, or the rooster crows without being intimidated, by barn walls or manmade noises. To say that the Orkney thing is esoteric, is perhaps a valid idea. I think somehow it is something which is fairly commonplace, but has been fragmented by the simple fact that so many of us with those roots and feelings are scattered around the globe these days. Maybe someone should organize an Orkney world revival camp-in reunion, on a quiet Orkney island where camping for a few days would pose no harm or invasion into private Orkney lives. If there was a couple years of notice, the numbers attending might surprise you. I have three kids. When I die, one of them will receive a ticket to Churchill Manitoba on Hudson's Bay, the original site of Fort Prince of Wales, where the Hudson's Bay Company provided a new home for so many Orcadians. My ggggg grandpa James was captured there by the French (La Perouse) and taken prisoner with Samuel Hearne in 1782. My son will have the opportunity to visit nearby York Factory, and with the blessing of the government, will be able to overstay there with summer research people. My daughter will fly to Cuba, to Iglesia el Cobre in the foothills of the mountains outside Santiago de Cuba. It is in this spiritual place, where Ernest Hemmingway deposited as thanks, his Nobel prize for literature. Tis a powerful spot in a quiet rural and historical setting. My eldest son, the academic, will fly to Orkney, and visit Grimbister near Kirkwall, then Wyre, where our old forbear built his stone mini- castle and who is buried in the the floor of his roofless ancient kirk beside . Then he will go to Papa Stronsay, on a pre-arranged meeting with the monks, one in particular, and he will sit on that sandy beach. It is a way of passing down roots. By saving the price of a typical local commercial funeral, all three of them can have an experience which will be with them for life. Better spent money, than buying a fancy box made of premium hardwood. Sorry for the blubbering. I enjoyed a couple of these recent sincere viewpoints. I think of Royce Perry this morning, and realize that he was one of us for sure. He looked great in his kilt. I trust the foto is still on the site picture album. So the crew of 165 plus "Pops" survives, and the mystery of the silence, has been revealed, and Royce has moved on. Yours Aye: Stephen On Jun 18, 2010, at 8:50 AM, Heather L. Gehron-Rice wrote: > My ties to Orkney are more esoteric than genetic. > Please allow me to meander a bit through my explanation - but hold on, > I'm coming back... > In High School someone asked me what my favorite animal was - and > out of > nowhere, having never thought about it before, came the word seals. It > wasn't until a good 5 - 10 years later that I heard the tales of the > selkies. When I heard them, the hair raised on my arms and the back of > my neck and there was a deep knowing of that word. So I did the usual > and watched "The Secret of Roan Inish". But being who I am, a somewhat > obsessive over-researcher of any and all things that interest me, I > spent hours researching the term and books that pertain to Selkies. > _The > People of the Sea: Celtic Tales of the Sea-Folk_ by David Thompson is > where I was first introduced to Orkney. And again, there was a deep > knowing and my hairs stood on end. The more I researched Orkney, the > more captivated I became. Reading about Skara Brae was almost a deep > remembering in many ways, familiar though I've never been there and > memories always just out of reach. > Imagine my surprise when I arrived at a weekend retreat I had been > invited to preach at and parked my dark green Saturn next to another > dark Saturn, with an Orkney sticker in the window... Very few have > heard > of Orkney in Lancaster, PA... It took me a while to ferret out the > owner > of the vehicle, but our very own Anne Slater was the owner of said > sticker. (It resided for a while on the back of my dark green > Saturn and > now it graces the rear of my dark blue Honda Odyssey.) I was > shocked as > she told me of her connection... I met Anne during my second year of > seminary. The following year, my third and last was difficult to > say the > least - our then 9 year old has autism and spent time in a crisis > center, and my husband, Doug and active duty US Coast Guard was > assigned > to isolated duty on Attu, the last of the Aleutian Islands. My > birthday > is in February and my card from my grandparents informed me they > couldn't attend my seminary Master of Divinity graduation because they > would be camping or on a bus trip. When I spoke to the Women & > Religion > group of which Anne is apart, she was one of the first to offer to > be my > grandmother and attend my graduation, she and the other two > grandmothers > from W&R bought me a beautiful soft leather briefcase as a graduation > present! > At some point, I don't remember when, I decided that I wanted to > travel > to Orkney, a pilgrimage of sorts, and decided that my 40th birthday > (2012) would be the appropriate year to visit. (My Mom made a similar > trip to Ireland for her 50th birthday, but I didn't want to wait that > long!) I located a copy of Charles's guidebook and marked the pages I > want to see, I passed the book to Mom and she stopped marking places > because I had already chosen everything she wants to see. > So here I sit, about 2 years from my first trip to Orkney, Mom is > coming > and I've invited Granne - Anne to accompany me as well. There are a > few > other friends who've been invited. Much as I love Doug, he is NOT > invited, he hates traveling and waiting so we've decided it's > better for > our marriage if I travel with other people. > I've been researching everything I can about Orkney, in fact had just > ordered the ferry schedule book when the conversation about the > ferries > had begun. I'm looking forward to tasting a Skull-splitter beer and it > will taste so much better knowing the controversial history of the > label! > I don't know what I'll find when I set foot on Orkney or view Skara > Brae > for the first through my own eyes. I do know that when I saw the > pictures of the Orkney Wife (Neolithic statue recently discovered) my > hair once again stood on end. If nothing else, it will be an amazing > life experience, shared with a small group of women who are > important to me. > > Blessings and gratitude for sharing your stories of Orkney with me! > Heather Gehron-Rice, Lancaster, PA and about 1 hour west of Granne > Anne > Slater!!! > > Slater Anne wrote: >> Many thanks to Sian and Bruce (whose reports I read religiously) >> for their >> accounts. >> Both reminded me of Lillian Beckwith's series about her life in >> the Hebrides >> that started with "The hills is lonely". (Which I haven't read in >> about 25 >> years, so forgive me if she is not your favorite person to be >> compared with) >> >> My favorite form of literature is autobiography. Connecting that >> with my >> great-grandparents' lives on Stronsay, comparing how they lived >> there (ca >> 1850-1882) with how they lived in Lancaster, PA, (1882 onward) has >> always >> been at the back of my mind. >> >> Then meeting cousins and friends now still living in Orkney has >> kept me >> curious about how people whose lives extend well beyond their >> island homes >> fit into the society that exists on their home of choice. >> >> Anne (Slater/Watt/Learmonth connections in Orkney) >> in south eastern Pennsylvania) >> >> On Thu, Jun 17, 2010 at 12:49 PM, Sian Thomas >> <sian.thomas@btinternet.com>wrote: >> >> >>> Stephen >>> >>> I think island life means different things to different people. >>> >>> >> >> ------------------------------- >> To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to ORCADIA- >> request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the >> quotes in the subject and the body of the message >> >> > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to ORCADIA- > request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes > in the subject and the body of the message >

Greetings stephen, I always enjoy reading your thoughts for the group. Seems I learn something every time. Wanda (historian) Minnetonka MN Subject: [ORCADIA] A Response....Re:  My ties to Orkney... The island life      this little sand beach was perhaps the only   place where a Viking ship could have snuck in there, as did Thorfinn   the Great when he hunted down and killed his enemy Roganveld. My host   later explained that where I had been sitting was a couple hundred   yards or so from where Roganvald was killed! My paternal forbear from   which our name evolved, was married to a Thorfinn, which made this   site and evening event for me rather overwhelming. Heather's selkies   revelation is something which I relate to. Roganvald .