I'm super excited about the finding of Richard III's bones.  Since I started chasing ancestors, I've found many lines back to the Plantagenet family.

Although mine had moved out of the powerful mainstream by the time Richard came around,  they were lesser to minor royals by then.

Records were well preserved within the titled people, so if you find a solid link, it's not that hard to go back to the Conqueror. And his line goes back to Charlemagne. Even then, it's not that unusual to discover the descent--probably half of Europe could do this.

What I did find amazing is the huge number of French, Spanish, Russian, Scandinavian, Irish and Scots I've found. Even links to the real Blackadder family in Scotland!

All just on my mother's side.


Can't wait to see what Richard really looked like.

And I hope they also test the little skeletons found under the stairs in the Tower. Now it's going to be easier to identify them for sure.

A Chilling Brush with Fame

One last episode.

While we were living in Bahrain, we could take short trips to nearby countries. Once, we spent a week in India. Of course a visit to the Taj Mahal was included in the plans. I had read that seeing the Taj at night was an experience not to be missed. We made special plans to be there at the rise of a new moon and prayed the sky would be clear.

We had visited the monument that day; admired the beautiful marble inlay, the carving of lace-like stone screens. It is undoubtedly one of the world's masterpieces.

The evening of our return was comfortable, the gardens were fairly empty of people and the air was still. It was perfect. We made a bee-line for one of the stone seat about mid-way down the terraces.

The location presented the classic view of the Taj. The moon was just appearing over the shoulder of the monument and seemed to be a single, pure musical note. You could almost feel it. The whole scene had an ethereal, blue-white, shimmering, floating appearance. It was stunningly beautiful.

As we sat there memorized by the view, we became conscious of a commotion behind us but ignored it, wanting to not break the mood. None the less, as it got louder, we finally had to turn around and see what the source was. Especially after someone had just said, "Cut off their Heads. HA! HA! HA!"...... There seemed to be a vortex of large Africans dressed in suits, uniforms and brightly-colored robes, all attentive to one exceptionally big man who, we assumed, must have been a general or some high rank, judging from the mass of metals on his chest. He seemed unhappy, but sat down behind us on a stone bench. After a few minutes, he stood up and he and his entourage left in another fluttering whirlwind.

We recognized the group immediately. We had crossed paths with them all day long.

While checking into the hotel and on our way through the lobby en route to the room with our luggage, this group nearly ran us down. We heard them coming up fast behind us. The clicking of heels on the stone floor heralded a whirlpool of official looking uniformed men, Indian civil servants in suits followed by a clutch of substantial-sized African ladies who sailed like galleons through the lobby. They commandeered all the elevators and left us standing in the dust.

The next day, beginning a day of sightseeing, we stepped through the hotel entrance and before we could ask for a cab, a police escort swept up and a huge limo with diplomatic flags flying and other cars stopped in front of us. We thought some great personage was arriving, so stepped aside. The doorman became very agitated and furiously waved the whole parade away. Muttering, he hailed us a cab and held the door open, waving us inside. We noticed the limo and company had circled around the drive and sat poised to sweep to the entrance once again. As we were driving away, we could hear the entourage storming the lobby and assumed the limos and escort was had been waiting for them.

We headed out for the Red Fort, the Taj Majal and the Agra craftsman's villages. By afternoon we were in a fantastic jewelry shop, about to leave when a man rushed in, whispered something in the owner's ear and rushed out again. The owner seemed to change from a rather passive, drowsy attitude to one of intense interest in us. He urged us to look at more items. He pulled trays of treasures from display cases and laid them on the counter tops. When I admired an antique Mogul skirt, spangled with gold embroidery and jewels on display, he presented it with a flourish onto the top of the glass case. He went into the safe and came out with a tray of fantastic antique museum-quality enamel and jewel encrusted bracelets which he urged me to try on. The whole glass counter top was suddenly full of rare treasures.

Quickly, the reason for this renewed focus became clear. We heard a commotion outside. Dust swirled into the door from as limos came to a stop on the street. You guessed it, here came that same mob, like a flock of large, colorful and very noisy birds, flowing in through the doors. Suddenly, we were dropped like a hot potatoes. The owner was literally rubbing his hands together in anticipation with a smile from ear to ear at the new customers. In a flash, that smile fell to the carpet when they all the women asked only to see all the 'beggar bead' necklaces. (Semi-precious agate type stones.)

We had been willing shills.

Muttering, "Thank you", we quietly slipped away..........

We thought no more about any of this until some years later, back in the States in our house in Virginia, a loud voice caught my attention. It was booming from the television in the living room. I recognized it as the one I had heard behind me at the Taj. This time the whole world was hearing it, riveted to their TVs watching the airline hostage situation in Entebbe, Uganda. The big man was speaking on camera. He was the same man we had seen in India But this time we realized him-- Idi Amin!

(Shudder)

Geoffrey Bibby

It's one thing to see a famous person, but another to have the opportunity to spend some time in conversation.

I met Geoffrey Bibby when he arrived in Bahrain to do a BBC special about the tumuli and water qanats of Bahrain.

Mr. Bibby later became curator of the Moesgaard Museum in Aarhus, Denmark, where many artifacts from Bahrain are housed. The museum also has a large collection of Viking artifacts.

Tumuli are earthen or stone burial chambers dating from ancient times. Bahrain is peppered with them. On an island roughly 27 miles long and 14 miles wide, as I remember, there are an enormous amount of tumuli over the terrain. It has been referred to as the largest burial site of the ancient world. It isn't clear whether the island supported a large population or if it was used as a large tomb site for religious reasons.

One theory is that Bahrain or Dilmon was the original location of the Garden of Eden (although there are many places that have claimed that) and another that it was the original location of the Tree of Life, a prevalent motif or symbol of the ancient world. During the original excavation of a Babylonian-era temple and city site, a well fed by a spring and a small basket containing a skeleton of a snake curled around a round pearl-like stone were found. The Snake and the Pearl or Dragon and Pearl are ancient icons of the far and middle east.

Qanats are a system of underwater channels built to conserve water. They are punctuated at intervals with access towers . These water systems were in use all over the middle east. Some are still used today. The water table has dropped considerably in Bahrain, so at the time I was there, they were dry and accessible for exploration.

Mr. Bibby was the archaeologist who confirmed that the ancient kingdom of Dilmun was Bahrain. I believe there is a mention of the name Dilmun in the Bible and legend has it as the island where the ancient Sumerian hero, Gilgamesh, after surviving a catastrophic flood (much like Noah) went to the land of Dilmun in search of eternal life. This story, first written in verse on clay tablets, was used by Bibby to research and later find a 4000-year old temple and ruins, establishing the connection between Dilmun and Bahrain. His book Looking for Dilmun was written about his search.

Trained as a classical archaeologist and versed in Assyrian script, Mr. Bibby was well versed in many fields and was a fascinating conversationalist. At a roof-top dinner party one evening, we had a most interesting conversation about the effects of geography on the development and migrations of people in history. He spoke about the process of working in archaeology and researching european pre-history. It was one of the most interesting evenings I have ever spent.

Later I was able to go down into the ruins at Barbar and stand on a floor that had not seen the light of day since the days of Babylonia. And even later, a small group of us were allowed to climb down and explore the passageways of the water qanauts--bats and all. But that's another story.

Another "Brush with Fame"

Brush with fame? I had a collision!

During the early 1980s, my husband was stationed in London with the Navy and I had taken a Civil Service job in the same building he worked in. It was on Audley street, off Grosvenor Square adjacent to the American Embassy in Mayfair.

I had figured out that if I took a sandwich with me and set out at a good pace, I could make it across the corner of Hyde Park and get to Harrod's Department Store and back on my lunch hour. I had done this several times and had discovered some ways to shorten my trip by ducking down a few narrow streets and alleys.

So, one day I was steaming along, munching my sandwich and planning my store attack when I rounded a tight corner and ran smack in to Robert Morely! I mean SMACK into Robert Morely.

He had a hat firmly planted on his head, a cigar in his mouth and after I bounced off his vested stomach, his eyebrows began to bounce, his eyes bulged. He blinked several times and his cigar wobbled in his mouth while he said, "Oh! I SAY! I'm TERRIBLY sorry! Are you all right?" in impeccable Queen's English.

I had recognized him right away and became flustered, but wasn't hurt at all. He just kept apologizing until I laughed and told him I was just fine. He finally tipped his had and said "Good Day, Miss." and continued on his way. Actually, I was lucky he hadn't flattened me. I couldn't stop laughing because he was so comical.

Just recently, I was at the Corcoran Gallery in Washington D.C. looking at a special display of photographs, looked up and saw in profile a man who at first glance, I thought was Sir Patrick Stewart of Star Trek fame. But looking a bit harder, I realized I was looking at Sir Ben Kingsley. There was no one else in the room, although a small group did wonder in and back out, he wasn't recognized.

I continued to look at the pictures as did he, He was very interested in them and got quite close to see all the detail. I didn't disturb him. His family, I later saw, had decided to rest on the benches in the main lobby. He caught up with them and they all left the building together. Only then did someone say, "Was that Ben Kingsley who just left?"

Stewart on the left; Kingsley on the right.

I have 'run into' other celebs and notables as well. And I always wonder, "Should I acknowledge them by saying, "Hi" or something or just leave them alone. A few times I've nodded or smiled if I've caught their eye. And once in National Airport in D.C. I helped Lily Tomlin locate her driver who I had seen earlier.

I wonder how famous people feel about how other people react to seeing them in public. Often in places like Europe, they are looked at, but left alone. If you ignore them completely, are they glad or depressed? I guess it depends on the person.

"Brush with Fame"

My local clay organization's newsletter has a short questionnaire for members. Each month, two or three responses are published. The first question is, "Have you ever had a brush with fame?"

I wondered, did they mean Your fame or an experience with someone famous?

That set my mind on a spin-trip.

The first thing I thought of was, when I was in grade school, I met and shook hands with both Harry Truman and Thomas Hart Benton. I don't recall whether the event was the opening of the Truman Library or if it was "Thomas Hart Benton Day", but I seem to remember it was the latter. It was a rather small gathering; a short ceremony. I can still hear that unmistakable Truman voice. Mr. Benton, however, was a very soft-spoken man and said little. What struck me was that both men were not very tall. As a matter of fact, I remember feeling shocked.

Shaking hands with them was a real contrast. Although Truman had a firm enough handshake, it was that of a man who did no manual work; a rather small, soft hand. While Benton's hand was muscular, squared in shape and very robust, even though you also knew he was a shy man, really.

Several years earlier, I had written a letter to Harry, in spite of my parent's political leanings, asking for a picture and an autograph. I received a response, written on White House letterhead with an official picture and a printed signature. The letter did have an original signature of Mr. Truman's secretary. Even so, I was thrilled.

Benton's murals in the Missouri state capital were some of my earliest memories. My grandfather had been appointed to Jefferson City to complete an unfulfilled term of Clerk of the Legislature when the man who had filled the position died. We had made the trip to visit him with my grandmother, aunt and parents during one legislative session. One of my most vivid memories of that trip was the huge murals in the capital building.

So, meeting them both later, well, it was impressive.