COLUMNS

Outtakes: Time to laugh at what genealogical research uncovers

Frank Weaver Jr.
Suburbanite correspondent
Frank Weaver Jr.

(second of two parts)

When I first met Peggy, this lady whom I call my wife, I was smitten. Since I considered her to be a spitting image of the movie star, Doris Day, I never envisioned her to be a descendant from any pirates, let alone Scottish ones. After all, from what I've read, they were the most notorious of all.                     

In those early days of courtship, with each additional date my heart almost melted each time I saw her stunning looks. We dated for more than 15 months before I popped the question. Actually, it felt more like 15 years. Not because of her, but simply because I feared that hollow feeling of rejection one gets if the lady should suddenly say 'No!. To make matters worse, I managed to weasel out of three engagement dates as well as the same with matrimony dates, moving them forward each time a few months at a time. I could understand how having frozen feet must've felt; but in the middle of a record setting, hot, blazing summer? That could very well be why I was on the verge of becoming stunned while engaged in family genealogy when she suggested her side could be descendants from 17th century Scottish pirates.                       

"A PIRATE!?!" I glared her way briefly while slowly pronouncing both syllables of the second word perfectly; just in case she might have had any notion that I may have misunderstood and thought she said, "Parrot!"                                   

After a moment of deep, silent, thought, I decided to take it for what I thought it may be worth; just a wee bit of speculation on her part designed to start a conversation. Due to the fact that she simply seemed to treat it that way, one that could very easily turn into a heated argument, it swiftly became one that I knew I couldn't win regardless of how much I offered to pay for a victory. As this family genealogical pirate discussion grew, however, I swiftly realized that she was neither aware as to whether this pirate was on the paternal side, nor on the maternal side of her mother's Scottish genealogy. Nor did she know the ship's name on which this infamous rascal sailed or the pirate's name himself. And as far as that goes, the good wife didn't even know the name of the Scottish coastal village from where he hailed nor what years this family's black sheep spread havoc across the bounty blue while sailing the seven seas with his crew of fellow buccaneers.        

Let's see. No name, no ship's name, no home village, no idea where the cave was where he hid nor what years he terrorized the king's ships. After all, that's was their sole purpose; to conquer a private commercial vessel, steal the loot and take off. No problem. I can uncover it. If they were fortunate, the conquered ship would be one of the king's and filled to the brim with loot. Piece of cake, I thought. The only thing that would make it easier was if I could somehow transport myself back to those days of piracy and talk to this buccaneer himself.   

I was about to ask myself what I got myself into and more importantly, why, when the good wife entered the room with a question. "Did you once tell me you had black sheep on your side of the family." she queried.                                          

"Yeah!" I mumbled trying hard to finish what I started. "Why do you ask?"

She looked my way that said she was about to spring the trap. "I ran across some old papers that seemed to be hidden on the bottom of other family history."       

"The were, probably nothing," she continued. "But, if they hung horse thieves back then, who was this one horse thief they hung named, Jerry 'Red Devil' Weaver?" Then added, "But continue. When you're finished with the pirate, I'll give you a hand with 'Red Devil.'"

OUCH! She got me again!   

Comments may be emailed to: Frankweaverjr@aol.com