Barbara J. Hamby

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A Beginning, An Ending

As we begin the month of November, our annual Fairfield sisters’ reunion ends. Tomorrow I drop Margaret off at the airport for her trip to Southern California, made long by a layover. We are already exhausted, so it’s fortunate she is the youngest sister, but still pushing elderly a bit.

Her enthusiasm for genealogy energizes her. Yesterday we traveled to Eugene, where we went to the Lane County Museum for information about ancestors who were in that area years ago. Before the museum, we had found a AAA office where she obtained maps, directions and information for our trip to Cottage Grove later in the afternoon.

In Cottage Grove, we checked into our motel, rested, then went to dinner at a cafe’ near the motel. While we were finishing, a couple came in and requested a table, not a booth. He looked like a Harley rider, who might possibly need two bikes now to fit his huge frame. His companion isn’t skinny, but he is at least twice her size. As Margaret and I were pushing up to leave our booth, he was passing by on his way to the restroom, I believe. He stopped, bowed and put out a hand to each of us, to assist us. We gratefully accepted his help, much to the amusement of the other diners.

After dinner, we took advantage of the heated indoor pool and spa. Back in our room, we read for a while. With great difficulty, I managed to stay awake until ten to watch Boston Legal. Margaret awoke toward the end of the show, to enjoy the last few minutes of it. Then we both gave up and went to sleep.

This morning, I swam and exercised in the pool while Margaret went to the Shields cemetery in Cottage Grove with a lady from the genealogy library. An ancestor of ours, William Shields, was instrumental in establishing the town of Cottage Grove. There are many descendants of his still in that area and a number of things named after the Shields family.

Margaret came back to the motel; we checked out and went to the genealogy library where she did research for an hour or so. We then went to a restaurant recommended by some of the genealogists in Cottage Grove for a very good lunch. The restaurant where we lunched was just down the block from the Brothel Cafe’and it happened the only parking on the street was in front of it. I chuckled to see a sign on the door of that restaurant that read, “No Soliciting.” My camera was in my bag in the trunk, so Margaret took a picture of it for us.

When we returned to the library, I read and napped in the car while she was inside getting further information and leaving a copy of some of her collected information for their use. Then we drove back here, picked up a few groceries, and had a hastily prepared dinner with Floyd. He and Margaret worked on his jigsaw puzzle while I watched a couple of TV shows. More reports on the Seattle trip will follow, if memory permits.

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