June 29, Sunday – Family!

5:30 in the morning found me outside of the Philadelphia Airport picking up Caitlin, my eldest. She had flown across the continent in ten hours what has taken me four months to drive. What a joy for me to see her, a reunion!! An hour later we were both stretched out for naps in Snee-Ooosh because we were going to meeting that morning. I was so pleased that Caitlin wanted to attend Darby Quaker Meeting. The group of Quakers that gathered at the huge1802 meeting house was small. At its peak 150 years ago it drew 200 Friends. But today there’re were nine of us and two children. Two of our groups had two generations and one group with three generations present. As I sat in silence I was aware of the family history that surrounded me. At least four generations of my family worshipped here. In fact one of my relatives had donated the land on which the meeting house was built. This is was the first time that I had been here even though I have been a member of the meeting for fifty-two years. These were truly my roots, my people. And I was the first Shrigley since my Father left the area as a youth. I felt blessed in the silence.
After meeting one of the members took Caitlin and I out to lunch but the conversation never really evolved because John Child was worried about his parents who were to join us. They never showed up; we found out much later that they were involved in a minor automobile accident. My seeking a bond with a follow Quaker again was thwarted.
John had ridden with us to the restaurant so after lunch we dropped him off downtown (Central City, as they call it). Caitlin, the traveler, said, “Let’s see the Independence Mall area” so we trooped to join the masses. She and I shared what I had seen a couple of days before so I could be her guide.
Not only was Caitlin becoming acquainted with history but also geography. The west coast is so easy to figure out; east coast is convoluted. I showed her on the national map where we were and where she would fly out of at Providence, Rhode Island. She studied the map and exclaimed, “You mean we drive through Connecticut? My friend Harold lives in Connecticut!!” After several phone calls, we were going to see Harold.
At dusk we were ready for bed. History had cloaked us both nationally and directly.