Jorge the Fun Guy

I have had an exciting win this week. A few years back I was researching my husband's family tree and my MIL had traced it back to George Pike in 1840. Born in Cornwall. All nicely tied up in a bunch of undisputed so called facts. After all she was a well known genealogist and had even given lectures at Oxford University. So, along I come with little or no background and tell her that she was wrong. Let us just say that my assumption went down like a lead balloon. I pointed out that on a census in 1871 he had stated that he was born in Mexico. Well, no, she said, that was a clerical error. Maybe the census taker couldn't understand the accent? Really? I have seen some dodgy census records in my time where Fishers were listed as Tishers. Or something similar. Even people who's names are recorded as Ditto, which basically means 'The same name as the one above.' Lots of Ditto families in England over the census years! After all, people these days do not read cursive writing and it is confusing at times. Who would think that an F is actually a symbol of a double S? Well, me, of course. But my MIL (mother-in-law) was adamant that George was born in Cornwall and I kept silent for the sake of peace and quiet even though I knew I was right and she was wrong. Vindication came in the form of a christening record from Mexico this week. Yes, there was dear George and his parents all written out in black and white in the Yucatan, Mexico. Although to be truthful, George was listed as Jorge. And his grandmother is listed as Mary Juana ... although her real surname is Jane. I was challenged slightly at translating the Mexican language. But it is similar to Spanish and thanks to a daughter that learnt Spanish at school and dear ole Google translate, we figured it out. My other daughter has traced the family back to about 1663 to a Gilbert Pike. She even figured out why George's mother was Irish. A bachelor uncle acted as the family marriage broker and wherever he went, one of the Pike's got married. Uncle dear had been in Ireland and hence Papa Isaac Pike married Mary Thompson. Why am I boring you with my particular passion? Who knows? I am just strange that way. I spent the week untangling an Israel Pike that had been connected to our lines by mistake. The lady in question was sure she was right and I was wrong. But I wasn't wrong. Okay, I know I should be more humble, but it's me and I am a happy genealogist and doing a jiggly joggly dance around the lounge at my own ability. I suppose it's a form of elitism and I should be ashamed. Maybe tomorrow? In Zadar, Croatia they have a Pillar of Shame where people were publicly abused and whipped. Oh dear, I don't have any plans to visit Croatia any time soon, so I will just have to tie myself to my TV and feel sorry for myself. In Zadar they also have a musical organ that is played by the waves of the sea. Not sure I would find it soothing if I lived within the sound of it. I much prefer the sound of waves to the wailing of organ pipes laid under marble stairs going all night and day.

My parents taught me lots of things, but the main ones were a respect for nature. My mother showed me the beauty of flowers and how they enhance our lives. My father loved animals and I learnt to appreciate all things great and small from snakes, to spiders and all the creepy crawlies. I firmly believe that nature is the answer to many of our world's woes. There are so many unexplored and untested things we can use to help in nature that can assist with depression, pain, diseases and hopefully, one day, an answer to weight loss. When I met my husband, he had no experience of garden or wildlife at all. His parents idea of a garden was one tree in the front of the house and a washing line out the back yard. He arrived at my parents home where there was so many interesting plants in the garden or the shade house that the mind actually boggled trying to remember them all. Cycads and bougainvillea bushes bursting with flowers, a Delicious monster and a stag plant that ate all our banana skins. Orchids in trees and baskets, perfumed bushes and exotic flowers wherever you looked. He loved it all. And was soon working alongside my mother pruning and primping wherever she pointed him. Mom would never let us call the plants by their common or garden variety name, nope, it was Latin all the way. She imported orchids from overseas and dug out bulbs from far flung places. Always in search of something new. I am sure I have mentioned this before. My Mom and her aunt, Mary Hillestad secateurs at the ready on the hunt for something new. Now I am in sole charge of our garden and without a green thumb to my name, I am struggling to paint the empty patches in the yard with colour and delight. Today I went plant shopping and bought way too much stuff because the shapes and variety kept jumping into my trolley. I got home and started planting .... and slipped down the bank ... on my butt. Luckily a friendly stick fell into my hands and I could use it as a walking stick to lever myself upwards and onwards. Gee getting old is not much fun at all. Where I could once have scampered up the bank and dug holes for plants, now I am scooting around on my behind and huffing and puffing away. I planted half of the daffodil bulbs, a daisy and a purple plant that was pretty, but I have no idea what it is called .. oh and some purple anemones that were gorgeous. Let's hope they all survive my ministrations. Chad, my son, planted the rest of the daffodils and on Monday I shall tackle the rest of the pots. Only ten of them, shucks that is hardly any at all. Well, I might have to stretch that out to Tuesday as well if that trusty stick doesn't give me the boost up the hill that I need to complete the job. Wish me good luck and the plants good health. I am hoping and praying for a garden filled to the brim with gorgeousness for Summer.

But as I was working away, I noticed some fungi. Yep, mushrooms or toadstools, I have no idea which. So many pretty little ones. Blues and reds and plain old brown ones and even one with a lacy frill around it. Did you know that in World War 11 the the Allies had penicillin and the Germans did not? Yes, one of the many reasons Hilter did not win. But there was a problem. Fleming had discovered Penicillin on a slice of mouldy bread. But it didn't reproduce very quickly and was not a viable producing penicillin factory. Then some guy in America was shopping and saw some mould on a vegetable at a market and thought 'Aaha, what is this then?' He took it to the lab (did I mention he was a scientist?) and they found a way of mass producing penicillin. A quirk of fate one might say? After my foray into agriculture and oohing and aahing at fungi, I went inside to wash kitty poo off my hands and to relax. Yes, the joys of not wearing gloves while gardening are myriad. Not keen to return outside where it was now raining and my muscles were aching, I watched an amazing movie called 'Fantastic Fungi.' What an eyeopener. Did you know that the most addictive and damaging drug is legal. Yes, it affects 70% of the people consuming it in a negative way. Causing cancer and disease, destruction of families and lives. Yup, its alcohol. So glad I don't consume it. Okay, there are those who enjoy it and can cope with the effects. But not me. I get drunk on cough syrup. Heroin is addictive too and causes 55 % of the damage on the Lancet scale. Methamphetamines about 35%, Cocaine 30% and Magic Mushrooms only 9% become addicted to it and have ongoing issues. If taken under medical advice, it can cure PTSD and metal health issues including suicidal tendencies. Recently one of our top cycling athletes committed suicide. A gorgeous young lady, Olivia. It looked like she had the world at her feet to everyone observing her. But she didn't. Suicide is such a horrible epidemic. It robs us of beautiful young people and sad older ones. What if we could stop all that with a little pill? One of the things about fungi is that they form a network under the ground. A neural, carbon recycling, intuitive network. Trees and bushes take in the carbon-dioxide that is killing our world and change it into living carbon in the form of wood and branches and leaves and roots that exhales oxygen. Oxygen. I like oxygen. The spores from fungi float in the air and shift around the planet reaching every clime and continent on Earth, and who knows, maybe even into Space. There is a man called Paul Stamets that has made fungi his life. He gave a Ted talk about how it changed his mother's life. She had stage 4 breast cancer and not much chance of survival and then she started eating Turkey Tail mushrooms twice a day. A few months later she was cured. Alright maybe not totally scientific, but what are we missing? What else is there out there that can save us? Covid maybe cured with the lick of a frog? Or a mushroom soup a day? Who knows?

Have you heard about Geronimo the Alpaca from Taumaranui who is being euthanized next week in Britain? He is so cute. But apparently he has bovine? TB. The owner says that the Department of Agriculture only did a skin tests and she wants them to do a blood test before Geronimo meets his fate. Just to be sure. But today there was a couple of people in Wellington standing in front of the British High Council building asking that Geronimo be spared. One guy had a Llama head on and said he identified as a Llama. Mmmm? But I do feel for the plight of the fluffy animal. What an awful state of affairs. Let us hope that Geronimo does not meet his maker too soon. By the way Geronimo means 'the one who yawns'.