Roots in Cali

I just wanted to let you all know, if you didn't know already, that Frannie and I took a trip up to Ventura, California, a town about 60 miles north of L.A., and just south of Santa Barbara. We recently found out that we've got some relatives up there, and as you can see in the pictures, the relative is most certainly a McIntosh! His name is Duane, and he's the 8th of twelve, and in my opinion, the one who looks more like Mimms than any other (of the ones I've met anyway). His hearing isn't doing so well, which is apparently part-hereditary and part-result of working with those loud tractors on the farm in Burlington, so we to speak very loudly to communicate. At first, I thought he had kind of a nasty wife, because she kept yelling at him like he was dumb or something. But when he told us he broke his hearing aid a while back, I realized that Rita was neither mean nor condescending. She's actually very sweet, and also very British.

They met when Duane was send over to England during the Korean War. He was actually supposed to go to Korea, but his dad asked for a leave of absence for a few weeks to come help with the farm, and when his leave was up, there was no longer a need for him to go to Korea. So he went to London instead! And there, he found his Sweetheart. When he was sent home, the army gave him a small amount of money to get from Chicago to Wyoming. Duane decided to send that money to Rita in London to take a ship over to America, and Duane hitchhiked back to Burlington. His brothers and father and mother told him it was an idiodic thing to do, and that he'd never see that girl or the money again. I guess they didn't know how much the two loved each other. She came and she stayed, and they seem as happy now as they ever were.

We saw some pictures of their wedding, and in those pictures we saw a cute little flower girl about three years old, fiery red hair (you could tell it was red despite it being black & white), and a grin that made us all smile. It was Nanna, no question about it. In 50 years, the hair and grin, the sparkling eyes haven't changed a bit.

Duane, by the way, has that same grin, and he wears it on his face perpetually, especially when we hopped in the Chrystler convertible and headed up the California coast to Ojai, a small town on the edge of the Pacific. With the wind in our hair and the sun on our backs, Duane smiled and told us the history of Ventura, pointing out landmarks along the way - including Johnny Cash's famous estate nestled in the hills. We also listened to smiling stories about Mimms coming out to visit with Trudy, reunions in Burlington, vacations to England, Italy, Turkey, and a tale of one James Yorgason (my great-great-great grandfather), a polygamist, who came to Los Angeles to escape the government's persecution, and built the largest pigeon farm in America just a few hundred yards away from where Dodgers Stadium stands today.

Knowing about 'ol James, Duane, and the fact that my Grandpa Bailey came out here to work cattle and cook for the USC football team, makes living out here that much more comfortable. For the longest time, I thought Fran and I were the only ones. But the roots have been here for a long time, and now I know that I've simply been grafted in.