My maternal grandmother's surname was Hereford, and, accordingly, Hereford is a place we had to visit. I must say, for the afternoon and evening we spent there, it is a charming mid-sized town, very pleasant on the eyes, and containing some real gems, at least for those into books and knowledge generally. But more of that later.
We parked on the fringe of the CBD and walked into town, and Vicki quickly found the city museum's "Old House," at ground zero, a beautiful half-timbered structure that dates from the middle ages. A little conversation with the staff revealed that there is no one in Hereford named Hereford, never has been, and that--he surmised--when people moved to America, many were not so eager to retain their identities. So, many American surnames that link back to England or Europe are really just the town they were from, or some town they could think of with immigrations people. We have seen this in numerous other cases and were not surprised. I was undeterred, nonetheless, from having my own "Roots" experience, and felt a special closeness and warmth with everything I saw, however remote or irrelevant. ("Wow, so an ancestor of mine might have shopped at this very Marks and Spencer's.") He also informed us that while Hereford is still home to the international registry of all Hereford cattle, there are practically no cattle left in Herefordshire. It is is sheep country. OK, I have never cared for cattle that much anyway, except for steak, cheese, cream, leather....
The rest of our Hereford experience was enlightening and edifying and upbeat, but I'll leave it for the next post.
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City square, Hereford |
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The "Old House," city square, ground zero, Hereford; part of the city museum, it is crammed with 16th and 17th century furnishings |
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Among the furnishings...beautifully carved |
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A toddler lap-walker... |
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16th century dog door |
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"The Lawsuit"--16th century humor |
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