July 8, Tuesday – Walking the Other End

Today was another search for my roots. This search started in Delph, England near Manchester in 1999. Caitlin, Hannah and I joined my brother, Phil and his wife, Shelby, to seek out the farm that started in all. In 1820 my great, great, great grandfather, John Shrigley, and his wife, Mary sold Hilltop Farm and bought a passage to America. They took with them their eight children. We found the farm and it looked just like it did 200 years ago. Our small group walked down the path that my ancestors took every morning to go to work in the mill in the valley. The mill was still there; still working.
The Shrigley family landed in Boston in 1821 and drifted north to the village of Putney, Vermont near the mighty Connecticut River. Here they lived, worked and died. I wanted to walk the other end. Shelby’s directions led me directly to Mary Shrigley’s grave and to what use to be the old Shrigley house, which had been moved and heighten into a two story building, but there it stood. I saw; I sensed and I sweated in the hot, humid weather. I spent about an hour and a half in my village area walking and driving. I talked with the locals and learn that the community was pretty liberal and filled with young people. I was surprised that my village was the home of Landmark College, a college for students with learning disabilities. If I had only known this in the 1960’s when I was at Purdue University………
From Putney I drove south along the Connecticut River to the city of Brattleboro because I had heard about it from friends. It was like a giant Fairhaven District in Bellingham; many tall brick buildings on sloping hills with a gaggle of church steeples pointing into the Vermont sky. A mundane as it sounds, this was truly a “charming” New England town.
Back across the Connecticut River into New Hampshire again this time seeking John and Mary’s son and daughter houses in the village of Winchester. I found them across the street from one another still standing after 150 years. I often wonder if the houses that we build today will last 100 years or are we just building the slums of tomorrow.

On my way back to my camp I stopped at a fire hall that had their bay doors open and walked in. I needed another pair of eyes to look through my new magnifying glass at the swelling on my arm because the location was hard for me to see. Neither of the two EMT’s saw anything that looked like a tick but cautioned me to keep alert. I thank the historic town of Fitzwilliam for their service. There are so many wonderful historic towns in New England. The course of settling new land was always the same: clear the highlands and plant or run livestock and put your town in the valley next to a river that provided power for the mills. These towns of today can be divided into three categories: Those that maintained their heritage and are beautiful to look at and explore; those that are a sad mix of old and new and the building designs are a mess; and those that have a historical core but have the mall mentality on the outskirts. I would like to report that most of the towns are of the first category.