It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve heard from the gentleman from Florida – whose name is Leslie – who’d contacted me about a possible family link.
On Thursday, curiosity gets the best of me, and I drop him a line.
Leslie responds Thursday evening. Turns out he’s actually been in Jamaica for several days, and has been helping his uncle (with whom he’s staying) with some things, so he hasn’t had any time to look into any family tree-related stuff as of yet.
I tell him I completely understand, and fill him in on what (little) is happening on my end.
And that’s where we leave things.
Or, so I think.
I glance sleepily at my phone. It’s another message from my possible relative in Jamaica.
But based on what he’s written, he’s telling me we ARE related.
Leslie’s uncle knows all about the Campbells in Hanover – in fact, he grew up with them.
That’s not all.
Leslie’s uncle knew my great-uncle Collin, who lived in Wolverhampton. He went to his funeral. He’s friends with my uncle Egton.
He KNOWS knows my great-aunt Milda.
HOLD. THE PHONE.
THE NIGHT MANAGER IS GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT. (Sorry, Tom.)
Leslie says he actually wasn’t ready for the vast number of names his uncle was just rattling off – he didn’t have a pen and paper handy – and it’s left his head swimming.
He says he’s going to visit my uncle Egton and great-aunt in a few days’ time.
I’ve asked him if he could ask some questions on my behalf. I don’t know how far he’ll get, or how much she’ll remember. But this could be a chance to take a second crack at uncovering what happened to Ellen.
Worst case scenario, she won’t tell Leslie any more than what she told me. Keep in mind, she’s 100 now. But I have to get him to try.
Perhaps along the way, I’ll learn about more names to add to the family tree.