Just a train ride away

Part 6 Ancestors, family crests and familial traits

Image by Maryse Rebaudo from Pixabay

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While staying at RuthAnn’s, she shares our Foulke family history book. I learn much I don’t know about our ancestors. Our Foulke family crest contains three wolves, two small ones on top and one large one on the bottom, and is titled Red Wolf to the Front. 

Wikipedia informs me that “wolves are highly intelligent and sociable animals in general. Their use in family crests typically symbolizes the rewards of perseverance in long sieges or complex industries.”

I like that. 

“The red wolf in particular, are keepers of earth and nature. They help us communicate with our surroundings, with the earth, with those around us and with nature in physical or spiritual form (such as in dream or meditation). They are the teachers of communication, both in word and gesture.”

Hmmm, I sense a commonality with my ancestors.

I contemplate these facts and think about my father sharing with me a love of the earth, the garden, and words. He read more than any person I’ve probably ever known. 

He also encourages me to be a serious competitor. As an only child, my father makes up for my lack of siblings when it comes to playing games. He teaches me checkers at a young age. There are no pity wins. I must earn my win, and in time, I do. I develop a love of games, any game will do. I know how to accept defeat, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ve developed a taste for winning.

Image by iphotoklick from Pixabay

When Rick and I return to RuthAnn’s after our wonderful tea day, her grandson is preparing to leave. They have been playing one of their favorite games, Acey-deucey. A delightful young man, he clearly adores his grandmother. He mentions that as hard as he tries, he can’t ever seem to beat her at Acey-deucey. 

Hmmm, that sounds familiar. I’m thinking those Foulke ancestors were some major game players.

And, of course, after he leaves, I suggest RuthAnn teach us me this game tonight after dinner. RuthAnn is on board. 

For years, RuthAnn has been a member of a feminist coven of women artists who honor the earth and the cycles of life, marking the solstices and equinoxes and cardinal points in between with ritual and metaphor. That influence is evident in the beautiful artwork displayed on her walls. Rick and I enjoy our down time studying and admiring the beauty that adorns most every wall, nook, and cranny. She has a lovely collection of witches in all shapes and sizes and a few straw brooms hanging on a closet door downstairs. 

Photo by Sabrina M. on Unsplash

Rick and I have a long-standing joke about me being a witch. For the most part, it stems from playing games. I’ve been known to pull something out of thin air for the win, leaving Rick shaking his head. 

Well, also there was the apple tree in the front of the house by the front door when we first purchased our home— I mention to Rick that I want something ornamental in that spot. Being a landscaper, I like beauty in the front and veges in the back. Rick suggests we wait to see if the tree grows on me. I agree to leave it be. We are not currently living in the house; we are only visiting on weekends to paint, fix, etc. 

When we arrive a few weeks later, the little apple tree is split right down the middle and lying on the ground. Rick looks at me sideways, uttering a distinctive  “whoa.” 

It wasn’t me. But let’s talk about that beautiful maple tree we can plant there now.

We still laugh about that little apple tree. And he often calls me his little witch when I beat him at some of our favorite games.

Spying the witch artwork on the first day, Rick mentions he is feeling outnumbered. I giggle. 

I feel right at home.

We enjoy another homemade dinner made by RuthAnn and settle in with our after-dinner drink of choice to play our first game of Acey-deucey. The sliding doors are open allowing for a gentle breeze. 

I can sense the mighty warrior/competitor in my little blue-haired cousin. I see my father’s (Foulke) blue eyes looking across the board at me, and I understand there will be no courtesy win for me.

I take a few minutes to memorize the difference between this game and backgammon, not much, but a few critical details. Rolling an ace and a deuce is golden in this game, hence the name. 

Gates up, the Foulke witches women go at it. 

I roll aces and deuces like there’s no tomorrow, as does RuthAnn. I actually can’t believe how many we roll. Rick watches wide-eyed.

We hear birds squawking in the trees outside about halfway through the game. 

Two giant black crows are apparently at odds with one another— or could they be rooting for their favorite opponent in this Acey-deucey game? Have our ancestors, my father and his sister Thelma (RuthAnn’s mother) chosen a different incarnation this evening, dressed as crows rather than eagles?

I can’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t write a better scene.

The game draws to a close about 30 minutes later. I have won. It will be the only game I win on this trip. RuthAnn will wipe the counter with me like an old rag in Scrabble and additional Acey-deucey games. But that first win … awww, so worth the following defeats.

My dad got the better of his sister up in that tree.

Relaxing post game with a little kitty love.

I want to end by mentioning that I’ve never studied witchcraft, except that I sure did love Bewitched and Samantha’s cute little nose making all those crazy things happen. I practiced plenty, wiggling my nose as a kid, to no avail. 

But I do, as my readers and yoga students can attest, believe in the power of our thoughts. We all possess an energy that remains, for the most part, untapped. I continue to send my tap root down to see what I come up with, and I’m often pleasantly surprised.

Next week we visit the Troll.

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