True Family

So, if I’d ever doubted it, I got a hilarious reminder this Thanksgiving of where I got my genetics from.

So on a previous visit to my maternal grandparents’ house, I noticed a brick with an interesting maker’s mark. I asked my coworker to show me where to look it up, and discovered it was local BC brickmaker that only used that mark until the 1930s.

I decided that was neat, and on this trip, I asked my mother if she thought my grandfather would mind if I adopted it. (It was only holding down the edge of a tarp, after all). I wanted it for my garden that I’d have someday. New readers, don’t worry. I’m an archaeologist, so adopting bricks (with cool marks!) is just the sort of thing I do.

So she agreed, and I walked away congratulating myself on my smooth-talking skills because I’d conned her into letting me store it in my parents’ backyard until I live in a place with one of my own. Score!

Here’s the funny part: a day later, Mum jogged up when I was outside, and told me that my grandfather had revealed where there was a whole pile of old bricks outside, and did I want to check those for more with marks? And he’d related the history of how he’d bought them used and he thought some of the were also British because they’d come over in ships as ballast.

And I thought…yep. Definitely related to these people.

So I am the proud owner of a CLAYBURN brick and NANAIMO brick, currently boarded with my parents.