My First Crash, My New Bike and the Quest for the Perfect Seat

I started riding a bike “seriously” about seven years ago when I was looking for some activity that could get me more places than roller blading. If it could reduce my consumption of fossil fuels, so much the better. With two sisters who bike, I thought I’d try that. I bought a Trek 7200, a hybrid of a road bike and a mountain bike in the fall of 2003.

I LOVED that bike. She got me through a lot of stuff: the death of my cat Bandit (at 19), the decision to retire and/or try something new, the various other challenges of day-to-life. I also discovered that in many ways riding a bike is like figure skating and driving a certain kind of car along two-lane blacktop roads that twist and wind. They’re all about edges at speed in control.

Remembering how to bike took a little more that I thought. I kept finding myself gripping the handlebar and not being able to steer. The next spring I used the motivation of not having to drive my car through rush-hour traffic during two years of road construction on the only way to work. I've ridden to the library, the grocery store, for fun and to and from work for much of the year (late March thru early November) since. I liked the ride to work, if you can “like” a commute. Riding through a wooded park in the early morning light made the start to the work day a little easier.

I had to replace My Bike in August 2007 when I discovered that she had been stolen over night from the storage area by my carport. I got another Trek 7200 but one size larger, which turned out to be a mistake. (The bike had been stolen at the start of the Labor Day weekend and what promised to be most excellent biking weather after weeks of Michigan August HOT and I was too impatient to wait for the “right” size on special order.) It just never really fit. So I decided to get one that did as a birthday present for myself.

My new bike is a Trek 7.2 FX fitness bike. While I must confess ignorance as to exactly why it’s called that, it is smaller and lighter than my 7200. Jerry, the bike shop guy who adjusted my bike to fit me, says that going from a 7200 to a 7.2 FX is like going from a Buick to an MG (well, as a retired Ford engineer, he said “going from a Taurus to a Mustang”). Without front and seat shocks, it is a much rougher ride, but more nimble and quick. I have realized that I’m going to have to pay attention for a while until I get used to how she handles, especially on curves and when I stand up to sprint.

While Michigan’s weather hasn’t been too cooperative since I got her, the first few rides told me I had the wrong seat. I knew the original seat wouldn’t work. The bike shop recommended the Sonoma (an “awesome seat” according to many). Unfortunately, it was not-so-awesome for me. After only seven miles or so, I could feel every seam no matter what I wore (yes, I do wear bike liners – which are great). I went back to my local bike shop and ended up trying four different seats (including the original one). After some out of the box thinking, Jerry decided to try a mountain bike seat, with a narrow seat.

The new seat’s a keeper. (Jerry: You ROCK!). I’ve put in several 15 miles rides, including downtown to the farmer’s Market and several for-fun rides through my favorite neighborhoods around town. Now, if a dry spring would show up, I'm all set.

Ah, yes, the crash. The crash and the new bike have nothing to do with each other. I’ve been lucky for a number of years, averaging about 1200-1300 miles a year on the bike (last year I rode a little more than 1500). I’ve done the usual stupid bike tricks: fallen over sideways when I came to a stop and couldn’t get my foot down in time, bumped into curbs at low speed (the things you don’t count as crashes). When I first got the bike, I rode into a “house for sale” sign on a lawn extension because I was gripping the handle bar so tightly I couldn’t steer. At the beginning I wasn't not so sure riding a bike is something you always remember.

The big crash (which resulted in minimal blood spilled and I was able to ride away from) happened four weeks ago. The rain had finally stopped and I wanted to get to the library. Off I went and on the way, while I rounded a curve, I caught my right peddle on the curb and came to a complete stop very suddenly. I ended up with a nice abrasion on my right knee (about 2 x 3 inches) but everything seemed to work OK.

I went home immediately (riding – the bike seemed fine too) and washed my knee twice with soap and water. I lathered a large bandage with lots of Target brand Neosporin and took it easy for a few days. Various black and blue marks showed up over the next few days. I also discovered that I most likely also hit the bike’s fork and steering wheel with my sternum when the bike stopped. I’d heard that cracked sternums hurt like the dickens (from CPR or open heart surgery) and they are right. My knee is mostly healed, just one little patch of skin with a scab. The sternum hurt through last but feels much better now.

So I consider myself lucky. It could have been so much worse. No broken bones, no messed up bike, no cars involved, and close enough to home to make it on my bike.

Things My Mother Taught Me

I’ve been trying to decide what to write here about my Mom and Mother’s Day. It’s been more than 40 years since I could give her a hug and a kiss on this special day. One part of me wanted to write to her, thank her for what she taught me, the lessons she lived during her life, how that gave me a framework for my life.

The other part wanted to tell something of her story, from her birth until her death, almost part of the “Margarets Initiative,” as I’ve come to call the genealogical journey I’ve started on. I started out this way but soon realized I need to learn a little more so I can weave the story a little more concretely. (One example is to take the backing off a painted photograph I have of my grandmother, my mother, and my Aunt Sarah taken in 1923 or 1924. I think the name of the studio is printed on the photograph - if I remember correctly.)

So instead, I’m going to write about some key things she said along the way that still help me get along in life through its various ups and downs. Something of a legacy and a way to keep her close even though she’s been gone for more than two thirds of my life.

The first: "You can do anything you want to do, so long as you are Ready, Willing, and Able to accept the consequences of your actions." Each of the three words was spoken separately, with a pause, to emphasis their importance. I have to admit I’ve used this one a lot and hopefully I’ve been able to live up to the promise of Ready, Willing, and Able. She never tried to skimp my dreams and backed up her words with actions, like when she got the School Board to let me take drafting in 8^th grade (when “only boys” were allowed to take the class).

I remember one comment clearly. I was in my early teens (13 or 14 maybe??) and I’d been reading a slew of Cherry Ames books (the series starts with our heroine as a student nurse and follows her through various adventures including a stint as an Army Nurse), one about nurses serving during World War II in the Pacific theater, and other similar stories. I told her “I want to be a nurse when I grow up” (more focused on all the adventures than anything else). She “humphed/laughed” and said that no way would I be able to be a nurse, I’d have to be a doctor! Mothers can certainly be sharp-eyed about their offspring and even then I was pretty assertive about doing things My way.

“Always be a Gentleman” is another tenet that’s played a strong role in my life. By that she meant to be kind to others, give a hand without being asked, hold the door for someone, say “thank you” and generally behave like a gentleman would.

She taught me about art and being creative. Some of my favorite memories are of trips to the Detroit Institute of Arts with a dear friend, Patsy, to see one exhibit or another (waiting in a long line to see works by Van Gogh). I cherish going to the DIA as I feel so close to her there. Each time, I slowly walk the Renaissance hall that over looks Kresge Court and take the small circular staircase down. After the war, she would go there to sketch for art classes, working to fulfill her dream of being a fashion illustrator.

Her death, from metastatic ovarian cancer, also taught me much. Not just about how to live despite a body in such distress but also how to die (and how NOT to die).

I do miss her in ways, but she always seems to be with me in spirit. She would be 91 this year, maybe, maybe not still with us here – who can say? I keep her close regardless.

My mom was born in Glasgow, Scotland and sailed with her mother and sister to Canada, before joining her father in Detroit, Michigan in November 1925. She never made it to New York and the fashion world, but she never really put down her paintbrush and sketch pencil. Once her five surviving kids were in school she explored oil painting, charcoal, then acrylics. With Patsy, she was active in the League of Women voters in the early and mid- sixties and got me to help out printing the newsletter for the group and the Farmington Artist’s Guild.

Those Elusive Margarets

I spent much of the last two weeks searching Ancestry.com for my Margarets. I managed to find a census record for Detroit, Michigan in 1930 that showed my mom, her sister and parents living on Martindale Street.

Unfortunately, I found little else on any of them, including myself. Yes, after not finding very much at all on my relatives, I decided to search for something I knew existed: my birth registry. Nope. I also looked for a Pennsylvania cousin (maybe Michigan birth records aren't there?) - no luck there; then I looked for my siblings - nope. I even watched the "help for searching" video (maybe I'd missed some key check box or something that would magically make the records appear). Still nope.

At one point in one of the based-in-Scotland searches I got a little notice box saying that Scottish records aren't readily available. No doubt ScotlandsPeople sees Ancestry as a competitor and being Scots, are making sure their interests are protected.

So, where from here? I found a few more books on Scottish Genealogy at the local library (kudos to AADL!) and they give some additional hints and places to look. One includes a good deal of Scottish history and insight on traditions impact the search for relatives. It includes many pictures, drawings, maps and sidebars explaining naming conventions and the evolution of shires and counties and parishes over time. I think Amazon is going to make a sale soon (there's always a good excuse to buy a book!)

Once I have more detailed background information on how things might have been I'm going to try again on ScotlandsPeople and look at parish records. The 1930 census listing I found shows that my grandmother noted that her father came from North Scotland. That covers quite a bit of territory and without more detail it might be hard to narrow down my search for him. But, in 1976, I spent a weekend with some cousins (some number of times removed) in Thurso, Scotland "away up in the North," not far from John O'Groats, a harbor town on the Northeastern coast line. You can take the boat from there to the Orkneys and the Shetlands.

I managed to find the little notebook I had on the trip which includes addresses of various people, including a descendent of the elusive William Money (my maternal great-grandfather). The information in the book I'm reading gives me pointers for resources that might help me find him. I found a another name in my little book: my grandmother's sister, Chriss. Having her address might help me find the missing Margarets by going "sideways."

That's where the search stands for now. Hopefully I will be able to make efficient use of my credits on ScotlandsPeople. Ciao for now.

The Search Begins

I wrote earlier about wanting to find out more about my mother’s family in Scotland. I spent several hours last week starting to see what I could find. Before I logged on, I read a number of books so I had some idea of where and how I should proceed. The books included a “dummy’s guide” to genealogy as well as two books on genealogy in Scotland. The consistent advice is to start by interviewing the older family members about what they know (hopefully) and remember. Then collect any source documents that the family has, such as birth and marriage certificates.

What I Started With

The interviews aren’t an option since the people who might know passed away, although I have some notes based on a conversation I had with my grandmother when I visited her in California in the early 80s. I also have a long article in the San Pedro News Pilot about my grandmother as she approached her 91^st birthday (it was published shortly before she died getting ready for lunch for her “poker buddies”).

The original documents goal is a little easier: I have my mother’s original birth certificate and digital copies of her parent’s petitions for naturalization (which they filed separately for reasons unknown). My brother, Ken, found the naturalization papers last summer when he tried to determine if/when our Mom became a citizen. I also have my father’s birth certificate, but I’m not planning on looking into the Polish side of things at this time.

Going Online

I started with ScotlandsPeople.com, the main source of genealogy information for those were born, lived, and died in Scotland. You can search and get match counts for free but you need to pay to see the list of possibilities and pay again to look at a particular record. I took the plunge and bought 30 credits, quickly spent, and bought 30 more. Each set of 30 credits costs about $23.

I started looking for people I had specific details about: I knew my grandmother was born on October 11, 1892 and my grandfather on February 22, 1897; they married on September 9, 1919. I wasn’t able to find my grandmother’s birth registry (I found one match but the names and birth year were wrong – based on other things I know). A search for my grandfather’s birth registry resulted in 26 matches, more than I could easily narrow down more than I already had. The search for their marriage certificate yielded the “right” one although it’s very hard to read (it's also the same record my brother found last summer during his research). You can make out the information you know, but trying to read the unknowns (like my grandmother’s parents’ names and address) aren’t really legible enough to do anything with.

I then tried to find records of my great grandmother (my grandmother’s mother) but no luck – no records at all based on what I “know.” I also tried to find her death record, again no luck. I tried various census records (although the latest census available online is 1911 (due to privacy concerns) and looked at several records (chewing through the credits) but the ages and the names and relationships didn’t match. I also looked for some other family members, hoping to find someone somewhere but I either ended up with no matches or way too many (there are a LOT of McDonalds in Scotland, also a lot of Moneys and Christies). I have several credits left but I’m not sure exactly what I should look for at this point.

Where From Here

I then spent some time poking around CyndiLiast.com, which is a genealogy resource site. I checked out US death registries (looking for my mom’s sister, Sara’s, death information (for some family medical history I’m trying to put together) but found nothing – maybe because she never worked??? – the sites were all based on the Social Security Death Index (I did find my Mom’s and my Dad’s but since I have their death certificates – as family pack-rat – I didn’t really need to find them).

After a little thinking, I decided to look and see if I could find my dad’s military records (I’d read a book about the Second World War in the Aleutians and that was where he was stationed). Unfortunately, all military records for US forces are through Ancestry.com – a pay to “play” site. The prices for annual world access (which is what I need given that so much, on both sides of the family, happened overseas) is pretty steep, but only $30 for a month. So I think I’m going to wait a few weeks (have some busy times planned) and do some planning for what I want to look for where, with priorities, then buy into the site for 30 days to see what I can find. Then decide where I go from there.

I’ll keep you posted!

The Myth and Magic of the Seven Margarets

I was named Margaret according to the tradition in my mother's family: the first born daughter of the first born daughter was named Margaret. My mom didn't follow the tradition exactly (which was Margaret plus your Grandmother's maiden name), or I would have been named Margaret Money, which would have been too much; so she named me Margaret Janet. I was told the tradition went back at least seven generations. While creating a family tree for a college social anthropology class in the 70s I was able to trace back only six generations, including me. So maybe there was a little bit of the myth in the story.

The magic was how special I felt to be part of such a long-standing tradition. My mother (Margaret Christie McDonald), fairly untraditional for her times, always told me I could do or be anything I wanted. She went to the school board when I was in junior high so I could enroll in a drafting class as the only girl (back then only boys were allowed to take drafting). I wanted to be an architect so drafting class was an important step in that direction. While my dad said "You're good at math, you should be a math teacher" my mom stood up for me and helped me go beyond society's norms.

My grandma (my mom's mom, Margaret Galloway Money) spoiled me rotten (or so I was told); I just thought I was very special being the first daughter of her first daughter. She was a feisty sprite of a woman (all of 4'11") with a halo of white hair and always a broad grin on her face. Her Scot's accent added special spice to "ma wee bairn" as she sang me to sleep at night.

As another of my year's adventures, I'm going to take up genealogy and see how far back I can go to trace the six or seven (or more?) Margarets in my family. One twist is that my mother was born in Glasgow, Scotland. One of the myths in the family is that we're related to The Royals (on the wrong side of the blanket, as they say). I have a bible handed down through the Margaret's that was given to my great-great-great-grandmother (Margaret ?? Galloway) by a "Lady Douglas" in 1845. So I hope to discover who Lady Douglas was and how we were part of her life.

First Official Adventure: Four Books for Beginners

In February, I took a beginning bookbinding class at a local shop. I love books, all kinds of books, and the physical presence of the book is sometimes as important to me as the words it contains. I've been wanting to take this class for sometime now, since I first saw a description in the shop's catalog about its bookbinding and paper-craft classes.

During the six hour class, we made four books, learning new techniques and building on earlier ones as we made each book. Here's a picture of my four books:

The turquoise book, on the right, is the first book we made. Based on a traditional Japanese stab binding technique, it consists of folded text pages sewn into a folded decorative paper cover. While we drilled holes with our awl, pushing the needle through all those sheets of paper was a little tricky at times.

The next book we made is the accordion, or concertina, fold book at the top of the picture. With this book, we folded a long sheet of paper multiple times then glued the ends to boards that we covered with decorative paper. The little ribbons coming off the sides are decorative rather than functional. Still trying to figure out just what I'd do with a book like this though.

The third book is the little green covered one at the bottom. We learned how to sew multiple sheets of folded paper into signatures that were sewn into the cover. The cover paper is handmade in Thailand; the paper makers dry the sheets outdoors and little bits of nature (leaves, bugs, flowers) can fall onto the sheets as they're drying and become part of the paper.

Then we broke for lunch (there were about 12 of us in the class that day); I browsed through the shop and started falling love (ok, maybe it was a little bit of lust) with all the papers, many handmade.

After lunch we worked on the fourth, and most complicated, book: the small hardcover on the left that combined all the skills (paper folding, gluing, and sewing) into one little gem. At one point during the class, I realized that making these little bits made me feel like I do when I step out onto the ice in my skates: alive, and free.

One of the perks of the class was a 10% discount coupon, good for a week, on shop purchases. To treat myself on my birthday I spent several hours wandering around the shop, selecting various decorative and text papers so I can make more little books. Naturally, I've treated myself to several books on book binding since. I expect to start folding and gluing and stitching very soon.

Kicking off the Celebrations

Well, here I go. Last summer, while stopping in Ann Arbor while biking from one side of the country to the other, my sister hurled down the proverbial bike glove and asked "What are you going to do for your 60th?!" That got me thinking. I knew for sure that I wasn't going to ride my bike cross country, so what would I do? Hmmm....

My brother told me about a woman he works with who celebrated her 60th by doing something each month to celebrate her life. Her grandkids took her hiking the Appalachian Trail, on a train ride in the Pacific Northwest, and on a whale watch tour, among others.

After much thinking, I decided on six plus one (as described in the blog heading). Two I know for sure: a beginning book binding class and tandem hang-gliding with my best friend. Other ideas include this blog; learning either kayaking or archery (with the goal of improving my upper body strength); researching my family tree, starting on my mother's side (she was born in Scotland); and traveling to the edge of some big water (a small-ship cruise in the PacNW, the Canadian Maritimes, Cape Cod, back to Maine, and/or the Highlands and islands of north and western Scotland).

So far I've done two of the adventures: the beginning book binding class at Hollander's in Ann Arbor and starting this blog. I'll post the first adventure soon and include a picture of the four little books I made.

If you have any ideas on how I can celebrate or want to join me in any of them, let me know. It'll be great fun!