Traveling Down My Lines

Traveling Down My Lines


Researching my ancestry can be VERY frustrating. I've looked for one person for over 30 years.

Stories about Traveling Down My Lines

The Sickle in the Lilac Bush

  • Franklin, New Hampshire, USA

My grandfather, James Hamilton Sweenie, died when I was only 5 years old and I don't remember him very much.  I do remember, however, when he and my grandmother visited us in Franklin, NH, during the summer of 1955.  My parents, my younger brother, Bruce, and I had moved into a new house on an acre of land.  The grass had not been cut for a long time and was nearly waist high.  My father's parents drove up from Maryland and my grampa helped my dad cut the grass using a sickle.  It was a several day project and when they were finished, my grandfather hung his sickle in a white lilac bush near the back door of the house.  He complained at that time that his arm was hurting.  My grandparents drove back to Maryland.  Grampa died a couple of weeks later of a massive heart attack.  The sickle remained in the lilac bush until we moved out of that house in 1961.

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