In Search of Amy Lake

Doing my genealogy again and I have reached a road block.  Here is Amy Lake mother of Mary Lake born 22 Dec 1808 in Tiverton Rhode Island she married Joseph Cook 17 Mar 1831, and on the marriage certificate in my possession it says simply daughter of Amy Lake.  I have gone through all the places I can go to see what I can come up with all I have are dead ends.  I think Amy was a single mom when that was not fashionable, she was a woman ahead of her time.  I know that Mary was a Quaker and I am assuming that the mother, Amy was also.  I think she was a daughter in the family of David Lake.  I am going to pursue this lead and see where it takes me.  

dream 2

Isabelle came again, she finally came off my back and now she was spinning and as she spun she kept changing first the hag, then she had a baby with her,  then she was a beautiful young woman on and on like this, through most of the first part of the dream.  She called herself a guide She claimed there were others waiting .  She said to expect a crowd.  She told me to find an earth guide, a person who could help me with my quest, she will find me a spirit guide.  I will need to sort, whatever that means, I need to use my teachings, and awaken my heritage.  be one with the earth.  Be one with my fire sign (I am a Sagittarius, by zodiac sign and it is a fire sign).  I need to sort through my “ashes some remnants are still there.  She kept spinning and turning from young woman, to hag as she spoke.  Seems that she could not slip into any form and stay in that form.  I was glad that I was not carrying her on my back, anymore.  She just seemed to be floating.  She kept trying to put her feet on the ground but could not.  She just floated there spinning.  I “saw” other faces, (I could not actually see other faces I could sense they were there, she kept asking me to embrace her, I could not bring myself to do it.  She seemed disappointed, she seemed angry.  She began to demand that I embrace her.  I would not, could not.  Finally she just gave up and said do you wish for anything from me?  I asked her why she was coming to me in my dream, she said that I called her. I did call her as I wanted to know why she was in my dreams and why she would not tell me what I wanted to know.  She just laughed and said “embrace me, and you will know.”  I could not do it.


Another story beginning from the class I took:


There was graffiti on the walls of the entry hall and there was a dingy welcome mat in front of the door.  Funny, it said welcome when there does not seem to be any welcome.  The place had a distinct smell of urine.  Carey was trying not to make any judgments here,  She went to the door with 16A painted rather crudely in red .  She knocked on the door.  There was so much noise from the apartment next door that she thought she was not heard so she knocked again.  A woman came to the door just as she was about to knock again.  The woman looked disheveled and very annoyed.

“Didn’t ya hear me comin?” “That there dorrbell is broked.” “This damn well better be important.”  The woman said this all in what seemed like one breath.

Carrie stiffened; this may have been a bad idea, she was a court appointed advocate and needed to speak with her clients parent or legal guardian.  She was so shocked at the events that she could not get words out, all that would come out was a gasp “AH”

The woman looked at her, impatience was in her eyes.  “Well, are ya gonna tell me taday, or am I spose to fuckin guess?”

Carrie Stammered, “I am looking for Mrs. Martin.”

“Mrs. Martin?” “You fuckin with me?” They aient no Mrs. Martin here.”

Carrie started to leave.

“is this about Sam?” the woman asked

“Yes, do you know him?” Carrie asked “He gave me this address from the Barter Health Clinic and I wanted to speak with his mother about a very important matter.”

“Well, ya found his mother.” “But I ain’t no Mrs. Martin.” I’m Claire, Claire O’Voient.”  the woman laughed at her cleverness.

Carrie thought this was a rude joke but if this was Sam’s mother, she needed to talk to her.

“I would let ya come inside, but ehh, I have company, if ta know what I mean, a girls got to make a living.” Claire, winked.

“Well, be that as it may, your son, Sam, was admitted into the mental health ward at the hospital today by the courts.  You can come to my office tomorrow and we can discuss his diagnosis.”  Carrie was very matter of fact.

The door was roughly slammed from behind it by another force, not by Claire.  Carrie heard a loud rough male voice behind the door bellowing “Claire, I paid for a full hour and you go jabbering with some high class lady over that no good ass-hole son of yours.  I am not paying you.”

Carrie left hoping the mother would appear in her office tomorrow.  It was all she could do now for Sam.

It was the hottest day of the year, or so it seemed.  The kind of sticky day that the clothes you are wearing stick to the sweat of your body.  The day was off to an uncomfortable start already and she had just opened her eyes.

Melanie reluctantly slipped out of bed and opened the curtains.  The sun was beating down on the concrete and there was a haze in the sky overhead. She slipped into the shower and let the coolness of the water run over her body, she wanted to stay under the water forever, but there were places to go things to do and people to help.  Working at a psychologist in the mental health ward of the hospital had been a dream job for her, but there were days that she just did not want to go and help anyone.

In the office there would be air-conditioning which was about the only reason she wanted to go there today.  It was just one of those days when you are better off staying in bed.  She had clients that came into her office on a regular basis, which could be a drag at time.  It was not that she disliked them; they were just the same clients with the same problems and she felt powerless at times to help them.

Melanie chose to wear a light sundress, which always made her feel comfortable.  It made her feel like she was somewhere on a tropical island with a cool breeze blowing off the water.  She thought maybe her spirits would brighten if she was brought to life with an ice-coffee.

Melanie reached for the cup.  It was a cup given to her by one of her recent clients on his first visit.  She remembered thinking that it was kind of odd that Sam would come to his first visit with a gift.  It was also odd that he would open up to her on the first session, with adolescents it usually takes more time for them to trust.

There was a hardness about Sam, a hardness that could make your kin crawl.  She was also aware that he never took his eyes off of her the whole session, those eyes, watching, always watching.

From Nana’s strange Family

Father **Simon de Bourdon1 d. circa 1195
Mother **Elfrida of Kent1 b. circa 1150, d. circa 1193
Francis, Robergia, and their two sons are pictured in the church of St. Peter and St. Paul kneeling at mass with the inscription of the BORDEN Moral Code:
Be Just – for the Lord only loaned us that which we have whether of goods or of talents, and in their use we must consider the rights of all men.
Be Merciful – for we shall have no greater claim to the mercy we all shall finally need than that we forgive our brother’s faults.
Be True – to friendship and to God, for truth is all of this life worth the having, and perfect truth is what the life to come shall reveal to us. It is the prince of darkness that is the Prince of Lies.
On the opposite wall can be found the BORDEN Coat of Arms. For centuries a tradition in the BORDEN family claimed there were important records contained within the wall of the church.1
Terry Mason has done a good deal of research on this line.  From his web page.
REFERENCE: The Roll of Battle Abbey A.O. 1066 with William le Roy lists among other: Bodin and Burdon. A copy of this roll was purchased from Glen Crack at the above website in Oct 2001.
CONFLICT-DISCLAIMER: Carolyn Schriber Editor, ORB, Rhodes College, Department of History, 2000 N. Parkway, Memphis, TN 38112, on September 04, 2001 wrote “I’m sorry but you are the victim of a hoax. You can’t find information about this family because they never existed. The manuscript you sent is full of errors of fact. Julius Caesar never conquered England; he visited for only three days and never got his men off the coast. He did not have a camp at London. Robin Hood is fictional; at best he represents a popular local outlaw, whose name was unknown. There was no Norman vs Saxon rivalry by the beginning of the 13th century. The kings were Angevins and John by 1210 had lost possession of Normandy to the king of France. No one by the name of Bourdon (Burdon, Bordon, Bouriden, etc.) accompanied William the Conqueror, and there is no record of a family named Bordon in Kent until 1346. You seem to have been reading a very convincing modern novel.”
Terry Mason’s response as recorded on his page is: COMMENT: By T.Mason on 6Sep2001. It is my intent to report what I find, conflicts and all. I will try to verify the existence of the Borden name in the “Medievil Index to Sources in Britian” and with the reference “They Came with William The Conqueror”.
Of course Julius Caesar did not conquer England……England did not EXIST at this time.
Birth 13 March 1182 Robergia was born on 13 March 1182. Some give 27 March 1182.  No proof either way.1
1194 This story is not true.  But it COULD have been true.
It is called “Robergia-a Story of Old England by Richard Y. COOK,privately printed in Philadelphia 1905.(50 copies printed) It was written in Bayreuth,where he and his wife were attending Wagner operas.  Meant for the grandchildren, it was a story that “could” have happened, about a little girl aged twelve, in a grim old castle in 1194. She was called Robergia de BOURDON, and her father Simon had been four  years away with King Richard the Lionheart,and her mother Elfrida of  Kent, heiress of Saxon owner of castle and land, had been dead for a year.  Her father returned,and the next year he died, stating in his will she should marry a cousin Francis de Bourdon, of Bayeux. Robergia had a church built, (Headcorn) and on the day it was consecrated, she had a parchnent sealed in a lead box and concealed in the church.She had two sons, Simon and Richard,and she died 1220.
Then Richard Y.COOK and his wife, Lavinia BORDEN went to England and visited the church. There is quite a long lead up to the discovery of the parchment behind a loose stone in the wall, He is guided to it by a strange presence which they later thought might only have been a shaft of moonlight etc, very eerie. The parchment gives Robergia’s story and they wrote it down very quickly, for the words faded before their eyes. At the end of the book there are copies of BORDEN Wills and a description of the Church.
Marriage 25 Dec 1200 Robergia de Bourdon, 18 years old,  married Francis de Bourdon 25 December 1200.  It is said that they were cousins.  And some say they were married on Christmas in 1180.1
Death circa 1210 Robergia wrote her will in 1210. WILL: “Robergia – A Story of Old England” by Richard Y. Cook, c1905; printed by Philadelphia MCMV; press of Edward Stern & Co. Inc; Public Library of the City of Boston; copy of pages 79-84 in possn of T.Mason; EXTRACT: THE MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN THE EAST WALL OF THE PARISH CHURCH AT BORDEN, KENT, ENGLAND. TRANSLATED By MISS W., OF LONDON.
It is by the grace of God alone that I am what I am, and through the merits of His dear Son, my Lord and Master, can I alone hope for life hereafter and forgiveness for my many sins. His blessings and gifts to me have been many and far beyond my deserving. That it may be accounted worthy in His sight that I have purposed the building of a church to His honor and for the services of His true and only religion, is my humble prayer, and that He may vouchsafe the accomplishment of my purpose is my most comfortable hope. And I also pray that He may bless my further purpose with His favor and to the good of those who may come after me. My two boys, which the Lord has given me, are are always in my thoughts. Simon, weak and sickly, may not not see man’s estate. Richard, like the great king from whom he took his name, will be a man of iron – strong in war; but God and our lady grant that he shall be wise and peaceful also, for war brings sorrow and suffering, as the women of England and of my line know full well. It is from him that the Borden line shall proceed, and it is to his descendants, in what age and what land I know not that I must deliver this message.
It is now 154 years since Count William of Normandy defeated and killed the great Harold, King of England, on the woeful day of Hastings. There fell also Ethelwolf, my Saxon ancestor, my dear mother’s grandfather and the lord of all the lands which the Norman Conqueror gave to his vassal, Francis de Bourdon, whose grandson, Sir Simon de Bourdon. in the strange chances of life and war, became my father. In the veins of my children – Simon, who will die, as the leech sayeth, and Richard, who will live – is therefore the mingled blood of Norman and of Saxon. I love my children, and may not I, the Lady Robergia, the daughter of Elfrida of Kent and of Sir Simon de Bourdon of Bourdon, and the wife of Sir Francis de Bourdon, erstwhile by marriage with me, lord of all the lands of Bourdon, love those who may come after me, and take account of their welfare and leave to them the message which my sorrows have taught me, and which love for my children’s children leads me to give them?
The land of England is indeed in travail. The hand of the Norman is everywhere raised against the Saxon, and the Saxon stands ready to avenge the wrongs done his forefathers. It is war and not peace; injustice and not righteousness; pride and not humble desire to fulfil the laws of God and of religion that I everywhere see. The Saxon tills the soil; the Norman robs him of his rights and of the fruits of his labors. The Norman cannot yield; the Saxon will not; and yet if the dear England which I love is ever to be at peace at home and great abroad, these two must come together. It was but last month that my husband had the thumb cut off the right hand of one of my Saxon serfs because he had killed a stag in the forest, vowing that he should never draw arrow in long bow again. And yesterday a shaft was brought me, which was found quivering in an oak just beyond the moat, and which old Ursula tells me had grazed the cap of my son who was walking there with her. And Gurth, the son of him who was so cruelly mutilated by my husband, I doubt not shot the arrow, for they say he left last night to join Robin Hood in the great Sherwood Forest. And so those who should live together and who, once together, would make England great, do nought but harm to each other – the Norman proud, hasty and unjust; the Saxon stolid, revengeful and unwilling to forget.
And yet in all my sorrows and anxieties it has been given me to see a future for England out of which greatness shall grow, not less because of her power than because of her righteousness, and it is upon the descendants of my son, Richard de Bourdon, who is fourth in the line from Sir Francis de Bourdon, who was himself descended from the de Bourdons of Bayeux, in Normandy, that I charge this duty, out of which alone can good come now or hereafter, that they be true, just and merciful. And upon whomsoever shall find this parchment, written by myself – for with great labor hath my confessor, the good Monk Athelstan, taught me the mysteries of chirography and the art of illumination – I charge that they deliver it to the descendants of My son, Richard de Bourdon, of Bourdon, and that in their day and generation they shall remember to serve God and His dear Son, and
Be True – to friendship and to God, for truth is all of this life worth the having, and perfect truth is what the life to come shall reveal to us. It is the prince of darkness that is the Prince of Lies.
Be Just – for the Lord only loaned us that which we have whether of goods or of talents, and in their use we must consider the rights of all men.
Be Merciful – for we shall have no greater claim to the mercy we all shall finally need than that we forgive our brother’s faults.
And this hath the Lady Robergia de Bourdon herself written in the year of our Lord 1210.1,2
Death 1220 Robergia died in 1220.
Burial Robergia was buried in Borden, England. Francis and Robergia were buried in the churchyard of St. Peter and St. Paul in the village of Borden, county Kent, England. Church picture.1
1230 BIOGRAPHY: THE OLDACRE/OLDAKER STORY, by Edward L. Oldaker; 1985; copy in possn of T.Mason (filed – Richard Borden); ; On the old Roman Road (Roman occupation 55 BC to 440 AD) build by Julius Caesar during the conquest and occupancy of Britain, stands the village of Borden about 39 miles from London, 15 miles from Canterbury, and the town of Settingbourne in the County of Kent. London was built on the site of Caesar’s camp, and Borden was build on the site of Ancient David Worship and later the site of a Roman Temple. The Church of St. Peter and St. Paul in the village of Borden was build of stones from these ruins 1134. The Church is in the Parish of Hedcorn and was consecrated in the year 1210. It is the church of the Borden families who have lived in Kent since the Battle of Hastings in 1066 AD.2

Here is a story from my grandmothers genealogy that I love.  I can’t say that it is true but think about if it is, what a great history for the family.  I would love it if someone knows something about the history of this time and could tell me if any of this rings true, it is a controversy in the family as to wither it is true or not true some say it is and some say well that it is not true, that there is some reason that it was told to be false.  Does anyone know if any of this is true?

Sims stuff

I have not been able to get on my page for about 7 days now.  I am having withdrawal, I am not able to do much on the site at all the thing keeps freezing up on me.  I may just have to forget about posting there and when I can direct people here to talk to me.  I have had bad experiences with EA chat and EA telephone.  I am really not happy with this turn of events.  I will get more details to you later.

Da Ja Vu


There have been times when things go just as you planned and other times you wonder why thing go as they do.  Why me? Why this? Why now?  Sometimes you can explain them and sometimes well, you just continue to wonder.  It was like that for me.

It had been just and ordinary day the weather was beautiful and I did not have to go to work.  I decided to go for a ride.  That ride would change me in a way that I could never have imagined if I had not been there when it happened.

I know I have never been to Greyville, I did not know that a place like this existed.  I knew I was lost, I just could not find my way back home no matter how many times I turned around, and for some reason my GPS was malfunctioning.  This strange place just seemed to transform before my eyes and I felt like I knew it, knew it intimately, like I had been her before, like I had been here for a long time.  I tired to put it out of my mind, I tried to think in a rational manner.  I have never been here before, Never!  I had to clear my mind, I had to think what to do now.

I pulled the car over to the side of the road.  The road looked very much like any other road I had driven on .  A small two-lane road with a double yellow line down the center.  There were houses on both sides of the road, nothing spectacular.  It looked like a small town street anywhere in America.  Somehow, an eerie feeling came over me.  I started to visualize a different road, a different time period.

This paved road suddenly turned into an unpaved gravel roadway, which looked like it hadn’t seen much car traffic.  There were only two houses on the road, a barn and some sheds, one house was boarded up and looked like someone had just left it to rot.  This was not the reality that I had seen moments ago.  Suddenly I was drawn to the other very old house.  This house looked like it could use some fixing up, it was in dire need of paint and the window shutters could use some straightening.  I got out of the car to get a better look at my surroundings.  I just stood there stirring at the old place. I wondered in my mind what this old place had to do with my life, and why it would come to me now.  I still could not shake the feeling that I had been here before.

I had the urge to go up and knock on the door.  Why would I want to knock?  This was not real, I just wanted to get back in the car and drive home, but, where was home?  Just as I was contemplating what to do next, the door opened, a lady emerged from the house and she starts to sweep the porch.  She begins to mutter something to an old black dog that was playing around the broom.  The lady looks up and waves, she is smiling a welcoming smile as if she recognizes me.  How can she?  I do not know her.

I approach the porch with caution, I may be able to use her phone since my cell will not get a signal here, I would call home, that was it, I could call home.  I notice the name on the mailbox, LAWSON, why does that name sound familiar?  I say “Hi, Mrs. Lawson?” she comes to the gate.

A wide smile comes to Mrs. Lawson’s face as she hurries to get to where I am.  I can see that she is old, but you can still tell that she is a beautiful woman, the kind that you find in magazines from the 30′s that make you want to go back to that time.  She is not threatening or unwelcome, but I pull back, she just is not someone from this era.  Her gray hair is up in a bun and in it is a big pencil, the kind of pencil that a kindergartener would use to learn to write their name.  Her dress was old and worn.  It was made of homespun cotton of a blue and white check.  It was clean, but not new by any means.  Her shoes were laced and you could tell that they had been repaired a number of times.  A large apron covered most of her dress, this lady appears familiar to me.  Maybe I read about this era or studied it at some point in my life, or looked up something about the 30′s on my laptop.  Something about her face was more familiar than anything I could have read or studied.  Where have I seen this face before?

The unrealistic feeling of this whole situation is unnerving me, not looking where I am going I smack right into the closed gate.

She tells me to move away from the gate so that it will not hit me when she opens it.  When I get into the yard, Mrs. Lawson starts to talk about her garden, how her larkspur and hollyhocks have really grown this year.  This seems perfectly normal to her to be talking to a complete stranger about her garden, which I can’t seem to see, all I see are overgrown weeds, where a garden once stood.  I find that I am sweating, Mrs. Lawson ushered me onto the porch and offers me a lemonade.

Mrs. Lawson seems like she knows me.  She keeps referring to me as Violet, Violet is not my name, but I do not correct her.  This Violet who could she be?  It is a good thing that the question is coming to my brain not out of my mouth.  I stop to try to make sense of the  situation I am now in.  Breathe, rational thought, breathe.

March 2, 2013


WANTED: Handicapped woman seeking help around the house. References required call XXX-XXX-XXXX after 10:00 a.m. for hours and pay.  Female preferred.

It had come to this, she needed help, never thought that the multiple sclerosis would get to the point where she could not take care of things around the house.  The wheelchair was getting cumbersome and it was hard for her to sit in it for long periods of time.  She felt better lying down, that was something she did not want to do; be bedridden.

Having no children of her own and no family she had to advertise for help.  Agnes had money, god knows she had enough to pay 50 people to help around the house, but she was willing to pay someone quite a bit if they were reliable and she could get along with them.  She had become a bitter old woman when she was diagnosed, and her friends had abandoned her when she could no longer care for herself and she started to send them away.  She could work a schedule around the hours that the worker could be available.  Some help was better than no help, even she had to admit that.  It was just so hard for her to not be as independent as she had always been.  She dreaded the interviewing process and the choosing, she would be very choosy this person had to be just right, would she be too choosey and turn away the right candidate?  It will be so difficult, she wanted to find someone she could trust, someone who would be like family, someone that could take her bitterness and not abandon her.  How would she know when she found her?  She just would that was all, she just would.

Julie Renshaw, a sophomore at Rhode Island College was looking for work.  She was tired of relying on her parents to give her spending money, she thought she would get that money on her own.  She would also love to ease some of the burden on her mother for her college tuition, as it was her mother was getting older and had taken a second job so that Julie could continue at school.  Julie’s mother was thrilled when Julie was accepted into college, she just did not have the money to pay for it.  The scholarships did not pay quite enough for her to complete the four years and go to graduate school.  Julie wanted to be a social worker, which she hoped would make her enough money to pay off the college loans and some to live on and to pay her mother back for all the sacrifices that she had to endure while Julie was growing up.  Her mom Evelyn was a single mother, who was struggling on her own to make end meet.

Julie circled the ad for the helper for the handicapped woman, and set the paper aside.  After Psychology class she would make the call and hope to at least get an interview.  This job just felt right and she had not even heard the terms.  She thought there would be a lot of applicants and that she would not have a chance but she would try anyway, what could it hurt?

Agnes was delighted when Julie called.  Julie was the only one that called so far.  A girl from the college, would be a delightful change.  It might even bring some life to this old place.  Julie would be in for an interview this very afternoon.  Agnes was really excited about this.  She felt renewed.

Agnes waited in her wheelchair by the window for Julie’s car to pull up.  The old clunker looked like it would barely make it up the driveway.  Agnes laughed she remembered the old car she had when she was in college.  When Julie got out of the car, Agnes saw a young girl full of life much the way she once was before the MS.  So much promise, so much potential.  Julie rang the doorbell.