My grandfather Henry Birrell was born November 23, 1880 in Renfrew Scotland, and lived there his entire life.
He worked with his father in the carting business, and evenually established "The Coalree", Renfrew's first coal delivery service, which was located in Canal street across from the Renfrew Regal.In later years he owned the 19th Hole, a pub located at the top of High Street, and was affectionately known as 'old pot belly'.
He was 5'8", very stout, had brown curly hair and grey eyes, and was called "Harry" by his family and friends. Grandpa's passion was homing pigeons, especially "Bluebell" his champion, who would fly from Calais, France to Renfrew, Scotland getting clocked in at 'The Croft Place' at record speed!
Harry married Margaret McArthur Stewart on October 2, 1903.
Margaret was born September 11, 1876 in Renfrew Scotland to William and Elizabeth Smith Stewart, she had two sisters Elizabeth and Effie.
Her mother, an english titled Lady, was disowned by her family when she married William because she married beneath her station, she died at the age of 38, at which time William, a baker by trade, left for Buenos Aires, and was never heard from again.
Margaret and her sisters were separated, and she was raised by her grandmother Stewart, was 5' tall, buxom, with brown hair and brown eyes, and before her marriage she was a servant to the Lord Provost of Renfrew.
Harry and Margaret lived at 64 High Street and had five children. The order of their birth is as follows:
- Henry (Harry)
- Elizabeth Smith (Bessie)
- Margaret Scobie Rankin (Rita)
- William Stewart (Willie)
- Daniel Stirling Rankin (Dan)
Left to Right
Harry, Grandpa, Willie and Dan
Rita, Granny and Bessie my Mother
Granny died of a stroke, Novermber, 1950 and Grandpa died August, 1965 while eating breakfast.
And I'm remembering . . .
How exciting these times were for me! A wee lassie, packing a pillow and the old tartan travel blanket and being allowed to sit up all night with her grandpa at his plot in the Croft Place. He would boil water in his old can and make us some tea, and silently we would sit there and wait . . . wait and watch for Bluebell.
Then all of a sudden she would appear, high in the sky . . . making her circles, getting closer . . . listening to hear my grandpa's voice.
To this day, I can still hear grandpa 'cooing' . . . calling his Bluebell home.
And I'm thinking . . .
How much my grandpa was loved! |
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