Over half of my children were there, most of them with their spouses, and about
forty of my grandchildren and their spouses, along with a sprinkling of
great-grandchildren – and one great-great-grandchild. Not bad, for a woman whose
official age was forty-seven. Not bad even for a woman whose actual age was seventy
years and four weeks.
Impossible? Not quite. My Nancy gave birth to her Roberta on Christmas Day 1918.
Roberta married at sixteen (Zachary Barstow) and bore Anne Barstow on 2 November
1935. Anne Barstow married Eugene Hardy and had her first child, Nancy Jane Hardy,
on 22 june 1952.
Name Birth Date Relationship
Maureen Johnson (Smith) 4 Jul 1882 great-great-grandmother
Nancy Smith (Weatheral) 1 Dec 1899 great-grandmother
Roberta Weatheral (Barstow) 25 Dec 1918 grandmother
Anne Barstow (Hardy) 2 Nov 1935 mother
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Nancy Jane Hardy 22 Jun 1952 daughter
According to the Archives Nancy Jane Hardy (Foote) gave birth to Justin Foote, first
of that name, on the last day of the twentieth century, 31 December 2000. I married
his (and my) remote descendant, Justin Foote the forty-fifth, in marrying into the
Lazarus Long family in Gregorian AD 4316, almost twenty-four centuries later – my
hundred-and-first year by my personal time line.
The Schultz family was almost as well represented at Susan’s wedding as the Johnson
family, even though most of them had to fly in from California or from Pennsylvania.
But they could not show five generations, all in one room. I was delighted that we
could, and I did not hang back when the photographer, Kenneth Barstow, wanted a
group picture of us. He seated me in the middle with my great-great granddaughter in
my lap, while my daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter hovered around us,
like angels around Madonna and Child.
Whereupon we got scolded. Ken kept shooting pictures until Nancy Jane got bored with
it and started to cry. At that point Justin Weatheral moved in and said, `Ken, may I
see your camera?’
`Certainly, Uncle Justin.’ (Honorary uncle – first cousin twice removed, I believe.
The Howard Families were beginning to reach the point where everyone was related to
everyone else… with those inevitable defects through inbreeding that later had to
be weeded out.)
`You can have it back in a moment. Now, ladies – you especially, Maureen – what I
have to say is strictly among ourselves, persons registered with the Foundation.
Look around you. Is the lodge tyled? Are there any strangers among us?’
I said, ‘Justin, admission to this reception is by card only. Almost anyone could
have been at the wedding. But it takes a card to get inside this room. I sent them
out for our family; Johanna Schultz handled it for Henry’s relatives.’
`I got in without a card.’
‘Justin, everybody knows you.’
`That’s my point. Who else got in without a card? Good old Joe Blow, whom everybody
knows, of course. Is that Joe behind the table, ladling out punch?’
I answered, ‘Of course there are hired staff inside. Musicians. the caterer’s
people. And such.’
‘And such. Exactly.’ Justin lowered his voice, spoke directly to us five and to Ken.
‘You all know the efforts of all of us are making to keep our ages optimised. You,
Maureen, how old are you?’
‘Uh… forty-seven.’
‘Nancy? Your age, dear?’
Nancy started to say, ‘Fifty-two.’ She got out the, first syllable, bit it off. ‘Oh,
shucks, Papa-Weatheral, I don’t keep track of my age.’
`Your age, Nancy,’ Justin insisted.
`Let me see. Mama had me at fifteen, so – How old are you, Mama?’
‘Forty-seven.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m thirty-two.’
Justin looked at my granddaughter Roberta, my great-granddaughter Anne, and my
great-great-granddaughter Nancy Jane, and said, I’m not going to ask the ages of you
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three, because any way you answer would emphasise the impossibility of reconciling
your very existence with Nancy’s and Maureen’s claimed age. Speaking for the
trustees I can say how pleased we are with how thoroughly all of you are carrying
out the purpose of Ira Howard’s will. But, again speaking for the trustees, I must