One thing I found fascinating about Knole is that it's been in the same family since 1603 and is still the family's home. That kind of history boggles my American mind. What would it be like to grow up in the house your father and his father and his father and his father etc, etc, grew up in?
I still live in the area where I was born, but I'm only a first generation Washingtonian. (Or should I say District of Columbian to distinguish us from the Washingtonians on the West Coast?) My folks are from the Midwest. I don't know my extended family well, and I'm more than a little fuzzy on my grandparents' and great grandparents' histories. One grandfather was born in Ireland; I think all my great grandparents were from Ireland or England, but I'm not sure. I've never been to Ireland.
When my dad died in February and I had to empty out his apartment, everything came to my house. Some of the things have since gone off to kids, charity, or the dump, but some qualify as heirlooms of a sort. I wish I remembered their significance. I'm sure my parents--or at least my mom--told me the stories--whom they belonged to, where they came from. I just can't remember.
I've already asked my mother-in-law to write everything down.
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