What A Strange Introduction it was, to the History of the Russian Romanov Family, That Came Courtesy of a Regular Antique Shop Visit
A few months ago, I wrote a couple of posts concerning the exceptional content of Henry Z. Jones amazing books, entitled “Psychic Roots,” and his second effort, “Psychic Roots - Further Adventures in Serendipity and Intuition in Genealogy.” Why these books are so important in our own Genealogical archives, of which Suzanne is an “ace” reporter, when it comes to digging into our family’s past, is that we have both as active historians been working all the angles afforded us by serendipity and intuition for decades now, but just never stopped to think about whether or not the strange leads we were getting, had something to do with psychic energies. When we both began reading Henry’s compendium of stories, submitted by other genealogists from around the world, who have benefitted greatly from this deep psychic well, it was indeed a validation for so many of our otherwise unexplainable connections to previously unknown ancestors; we feel we wouldn’t have discovered if we hadn’t been willing, emotionally, and in the psychic sense, to receive help from, yes, “those who have crossed over.” Relatives apparently quite interested in connecting the living with the departed, when it comes to filling out the names on the family tree. Both of Henry’s books are full of these amazing coincidences that, in the number that are presented, seem impossible to have achieved any other way that by spirited interventions. We could have submitted a half dozen stories had we known the books were in production. Once again, as I have maintained previously, if you are hard pressed to accomplish all the research that completes your genealogical aspirations, are you really going to turn down the strange intuition, or serendipity that comes to mind, just because it might have something to do with the paranormal. Ghosts that are more scholarly than frightening.
Truth is, a majority of people have experienced the same things as we have, in terms of getting messages from the so called great beyond, the senders of these vibes, who may not be as far away as expect of the deceased. We are always in need of assistance in our research, no matter whether it is in the field of genealogy, or in local history generally, and darn it, anything that connects us with missing information sources, or specific archive materials, won’t be either dismissed or turned down. Now if this means therefore that we believe in ghosts, well, it is what it is!
When I work as an antique scout on in the field, I don’t think about what my partnership looks like in the ethereal sense, because it’s irrelevant to the day’s hunt and gather adventure. I’ve just come to appreciate the same infusion of intuition and serendipity as with research, and I am often led to something or other that I can’t immediately validate, or understand. I’ve been in antique venues, when I’ve been tugged here and there, and if I don’t respond correctly, by examining a piece more thoroughly, I will get an electric nudge several more times before I leave the place. It doesn’t mean that every hunch, and every article that I’m mysteriously drawn to, will be purchased; because I often disagree with this energy, and walk away from whatever seemed relevant to the movers and shakers who companion me on these frequent trips. I like having these moments of unsolicited intuition, but it is never about money, or making a really big score in the antique context. I’m more likely to experience this in relation to my passion for old books, journals, unpublished manuscripts and folios of art sketches. It was the big hand of intuition that made me look under an antique vendor’s table display, at one local mall, where I found a cardboard box stuffed with the journals and art folios belonging to Orillia area artist Katherine Day; an exceptional Oro-Medonte artist who had an amazing career, and a pre Second World War relationship with some of the finest artists and writers in Europe prior to Hitler’s advances. I could not exit that booth without looking under the table, and it wasn’t just something that comes with the territory of my profession. It was like my head was being pushed down so that I could get a closer look. Considering I have a very bad back and hip from my days playing hockey, getting down to that level requires a lot of pain suppression and patience. I was so rewarded by this find, that I wrote a manuscript about her art career from the rough notes and sketch folios, and donated it to an Orillia Heritage Art Gallery upon completion. Was I influenced by the ghost of Katherine Day? No, but I was most likely motivated by my book collector, historian colleagues who have now departed, who would never, ever, have left such a table unveiled had they been with me in the physical sense; jostling for position to get a better look ahead of me. I always, by the way, thank these helpful, butting-in psychic energies.
But rest assured, I don’t have a Casper type ghost sitting on my shoulder as I make my rounds of local antique venues. Just as our home here at Birch Hollow isn’t overflowing with visible spirits like Ebenezer Scrooge witnessed on that Christmas Eve a few centuries back. It’s all very subtle but yet undeniable when you’ve been on the receiving end as many times as our family has experienced. You just have to channel properly and trust that they won’t deceive you, because they’re generally not into practical jokes, although I have often thought they were chuckling about some foible, at my expense.
In yesterday’s post, I alluded to one of the more unusual serendipitous moments, that began with a heaping dose of intuition, that I should indeed enter a booth at a local antique venue, that I would not have normally found worthwhile for what I generally look for on antique jaunts. I kept walking by this particular booth, impatient for Suzanne and our boys, Andrew and Robert to check out at the front desk. It had to be on my fourth or fifth pass, that I decided to take a few moments to look at some “small” collectable pieces on a pine shelf just inside the booth. In only seconds inside, it was as if someone was pushing from behind, leading me toward a shelf against the wall, where I could see a “seal” stamp with a name around its base, etched onto a brass band. I rather like these vintage seals especially ones that were registered to a former Muskoka region business, such as Ditchburn Boats, of which I almost owned if not for the quick hands of an associate dealer at the time. I picked up this seal-press, and read the inscription, noting it was in support of the memory of “The Grand Duchess Olga,” and that it was otherwise, the seal belonging to a charity in her honor. So who was Grand Duchess Olga anyway? Oh boy, was I in for an education in Russian history, thanks to this small, largely unremarkable piece, retrieved I suspect, because of a psychic influence somehow, and for some unknown reason.
The seal-press was priced fairly, as these pieces go for in antique shops, being about thirty to forty dollars, but I wasn’t sure what kind of value I was getting, especially if I chose to re-sell the piece as I’m supposed to do after all. When we got back to Gravenhurst later that afternoon, I dropped off the box that contained the seal-press, and put it out of mind until the first of that week, when I’d have more time to work with Suzanne on some research assignments involving the internet. For whatever reason it kept getting put off, because other things, including shop customers, took precedent. It actually took a few days to do an online search of “The Grand Duchess Olga.” The first effort turned up some information about her being related to the ill fated Romanovs, once the ruling Royal Family of Russia. It seemed a little ambiguous and with only a small amount of biographical information, we just left the seal on top of our shop’s music studio piano, and I put it on my to-do list. Which took months. I apologize to the memory of Olga. It wasn’t intentional. And in fact, the same intuition that got me into the antique shop booth, never once let me forget that the job hadn’t been completed; meaning their spiritual input had been dismissed as “just the same old, same old.” Gosh, I’d hate to think they really believed I didn’t care about their contributions to my various professions.
For whatever reason, and believe me, there are many that are far from obvious, I was working in the shop’s book room, trying to repair the disorder after a busy weekend, I came upon a newer biography of the legendary spiritual advisor to the Russian Royal Family, being Grigory Rasputin, and yes, he was the subject of a pop song by the group Bony M., back a few years. I left the book on a table with other texts on three occasions, before, on the fourth, a hand on my shoulder made me pause, and look down at the book I apparently was supposed to read. I’ve always been interested in this mysterious bearded chap, who by the way, was almost impossible to murder. But his enemies finally succeeded but it took a lot of effort to achieve. Not far into the book I came upon, yes, a few paragraphs about “The Grand Duchess Olga,” who was quite familiar with Rasputin and his exploits during her younger years with the rest of the Romanovs in the enviable position of royal privilege. I read about her exodus from Russia with her husband and two sons, and about the farm they had purchased in 1920 in Denmark; and their eventual immigration to Canada after the Second World War, and setting up residences north of Toronto, then on to Cooksville, and prior to her death, in a tiny apartment in Toronto. She died in exile in 1960, where very few knew her Royal connection to the ill fated, massacred Romanovs, including her brother, the Czar Nicholas II, and her fours nieces and one nephew following the carnage of the Russian Revolution following the end of the First World War. Her father, of course, was Alexander III, and in her possession until her death was a large portrait of her father set as a flower-framed memorial in her residence.
Before I began writing this column, I had just discovered yet another book, of many, in my own book collection at the shop, the outstanding 1998 softcover release of the text, “The Lost World of Nicholas and Alexandra - Tsar,” by Peter Kurth, with contemporary photographs by Peter Christopher, published by Madison Press Books. I sat there on Thanksgiving Monday, enjoying the gentle comforts of our music studio, reading this amazing story of the Romanov lives, and the tragedy of their deaths, when I suddenly came upon the spread of two pages, with photographs of the Grand Duchess, in her days in Russia, and her family’s years living in Ontario, rather unnoticed. She was known fondly as one of the most celebrated and highly regarded of the Romanovs living in exile. And here I was staring up at the seal press that had been used following her death, as part of a charity effort to raise money posthumously in her honor.
I have for long and long been attempting to improve my understanding of Russian history, as I do find it tantalizingly exciting; especially the Romanov period of which I am no so much more interested by the simple association of a relic from the supporters of her legacy, in Russia and of course, in Canada. It’s as if my spiritual associates decided it was time I should get down to business, and learn more about the Russian heritage initiated by a rather odd purchase of a seal-press from a local antique venue; which now has broadened to a stack of Russian history books, and many, many references to Grand Duchess Olga……much more than the inscribed name on an antiquated seal sitting on top of an old piano, here in downtown Gravenhurst.
Serendipity, intuition, whatever you want to call it, but I am so happy I followed the energy trail that day, and all the other days, when they simply wouldn’t let me fob-off from doing more historical sleuthing; which has led me to know a lot more about the Romanov family, and I feel quite fulfilled in that regard.
Not really a ghost story is it? Well, a little bit!
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