Elizabeth Field, from the Nov/Dec 1994 issue of "Reminisce"

When our granddaughter Nancy was a third grader living near Chicago, she made herself a stuffed rag doll from scraps of cloth.

"Martha" soon became a dear member of the family. She came to my birthday party bringing a tiny wrapped gift in a little box. It was a cookie the size of a dime, and I still have it.

One snowy afternoon a few days before Christmas, Nancy arrived home in tears. She'd lost Martha somewhere on her way home from school. Her mother (our daughter), Jaque, bundled up and searched outside, even asking the construction workers at a nearby building site. No luck, so there was sadness in the house the next couple of days.

At 4 o'clock on Christmas Eve, the doorbell rang. Nancy ran to answer it, and there on the steps stood a burly construction worker holding a sopping-wet Martha in his big mittened hands!

Her mother came to see who it was. Jaque looked up and was delighted to he was wearing a bright red hard hat imprinted in white letters: "BETHLEHEM". How appropriate for Christmastime! (Of course, the man worked for the Bethlehem Steel Company.)

Today, Nancy is teaching her own third grade class, and the last time I saw Martha, she was sitting contentedly in her little rocking chair on a shelf in Nancy's bookcase.

Barbara Wysong, 1999

"A bit of news about our dog, Allie.  Pete calls it her 15 minutes of fame and his 15 minutes of shame.  We got a call, through our vet, from WWF (World Wrestling Federation) that they were going to have a match here in Charlotte and wanted to get some Rottweilers to guard the ring and look ferocious, for which they would pay us $300!  Now, not being into WWF at all, Pete said he would do it if he didn't have to wear anything stupid.  Anyway, to make a long story short, he did take her and was around the ring with five other dog-owners and their Rottie's for about 15 minutes while one fight was happening.  It was on Pay-Per-View television, so WWF sent us a tape of the show, which we will keep for posterity!"

Elizabeth (Tizzie) Lambert

2 October, 2000

Dear John,

I have just come back from a trip to Glamis Castle in Scotland, where I was interviewing and helping with photography for a feature for Architectural Digest

You probably remember that the castle is the family home of the Bowes-Lyon family and was where Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, spent her childhood summers.

It's always nice to visit "cousins", but must confess I had forgotten the connection until I heard a tour guide ask his little group if any visitors were from Virginia.

I kept quiet, but listened hard, as he explained that George Washington, Robert E. Lee and Queen Elizabeth 11 were all descended from the same Virginia ancestor, Augustine Warner.

What a surprise. I knew of our family tree, of course, but always assumed it was slightly "cooked". How could a tree spread out in 4 branches and end with Washington, Lee, the Queen of England - and me?

Well, I guess if that's the tree they follow at Glamis Castle there must be something to it. I don't feel free to knock on the doors of Buckingham Palace and invite myself to tea, but still, the connection seems to be the approved version.

An hour later I had lunch with Mary, the Dowager Countess of Strathmore - that means widow of the previous Earl of Strathmore, (the Bowes-Lyon family title) and mother of the current Earl.

I mentioned that I too was a descendant of Augustine Warner and she promptly produced clippings and launched into a tale of her own visit to Warner Hall in Virginia.

The house that Augustine Warner built for himself had burnt down long ago, the one
built to replace it had mostly burnt too, but the 19'h century Colonial Revival mansion built on the site was generous and beautifully proportioned and fine.

What she loved the most however was the beautiful location on the River Sevem, quiet except for the sounds of the wind and the water. She said it is a very special place, exactly the same when she saw it then as it had been when Augustine Warner lived there.

She went out to the quiet family graveyard behind the house and somehow knew, without being told, exactly which was his tombstone. The feeling of having been there before was strong, if inexplicable.

By chance, the house was for sale at that time and she tried to set up a trust to buy it for use as an Anglo-American study center, but alas, that didn't happen. It is still a private family house, presumably much loved.

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