Just a train ride away

Part 1 Making time to connect with family

Before I begin, I’m sending a huge welcome to my new readers, and paid subscriber (you know who you are), and of course my family of loyal readers. I appreciate your support.

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This beautiful sketch was created by Rick’s “Uncle” Bud Ludlow.

I’m excited to share a bit about the visit to my family in the Pacific Northwest. This story is long enough that I will divide it into multiple posts. 

As many of my readers know, I grew up an only child. My father’s side of the family was small; he had one sister, Thelma, who had two children, David and RuthAnn.

My father on the right and his sister Thelma

My father had one daughter before me, my half-sister Sharon, whom I’ve written about here. Sharon and I were fortunate enough to fall head over heels in love when I was five, and she was 18, a love affair that has stood the test of time.

Sharon at 18

I can count on two hands the times I have had the gift of spending time with Sharon after her stay with us when I was five.

I recall meeting RuthAnn once or twice when we were young. 

RuthAnn at graduation

I could go into a history of why these two lovely women were rarely in my life, but that’s not what this post is about. Suffice it to say that my father’s drinking wreaked havoc on his family members and influenced our history.

Although RuthAnn and I never developed a relationship in the early years, she was thoughtful enough to send my parents holiday cards. She had become a talented artist, and the cards always featured her beautiful creations.

After my mom’s passing, it took about a year to realize that thinnest of lifelines to my father’s side of the family had disappeared because my mom’s mail was no longer being forwarded.

A knowing tugged somewhere deep. Perhaps my Grandmother was reaching out from the great beyond… 

Suzy girl, I’m not trying to pressure you, but I left you with some fantastic women, and I know you’ve had your hurdles, but the years are passing. I’ve made it easy for you because they live about 30 minutes from each other. They are just a train ride away.

You see, Sharon, RuthAnn, and I share the same paternal grandmother, Augustus Foulke Cook. 

My grandmother, Augustus Foulke Cook along with my father and I

Whether it was Augustus or simply Mother Nature prompting me, I took heed. I searched the internet and found RuthAnn immediately. We began exchanging phone calls, and RuthAnn also graced us with a visit. Last year's weddings precluded going to Portland to see Sharon and RuthAnn, but I promised myself that 2024 would not pass without taking a trip to the Pacific Northwest.

My mother's father, who passed before I was born, was a railroad man. He must have heard Augustus and decided to chime in.

Take the train, my girl. It’s in your blood.

Part 2, next week.

Tales of a Wayward Yogini is a reader-supported publication dedicated to lifting one another through stories of healing and acceptance. Please consider supporting this work by becoming a paid subscriber! Namaste.