I'm not very good at waiting. Snail mail—not withstanding its ability to connect people, no matter how far removed they each are—lost its allure for me, once email was invented. When it comes to correspondence, I prefer instant gratification.
So, yes, I realize I'm letting myself grow impatient over a message I only sent out this past weekend. But perhaps you understand my perspective. I'm awaiting an answer from a person who may well be the grandchild of the Harry and Alice Reid who, eighty years ago, sat down and addressed an envelope carrying a family photo album sent as a Christmas greeting.
There has been progress on another front in this attempt to contact people mentioned in that mystery photo album. Taking a chance that an email address, posted online over ten years ago, was still a good address, I composed an introductory note to another person researching the extended Hawkes family. To my great surprise—and partially owing to the distance between time zones of sender and recipient—I awoke after sending my late night query to find it had already been answered!
That connection is leading to yet another person who may lend a hand at helping that family photo album find its way back home to County Cork, Ireland. I am excited to see where that correspondence will lead. There is nothing like interviewing the people who have firsthand knowledge of the subjects at hand. Wouldn't it be perfect if all this assistance leads to the ability to connect with a direct descendant of Alice Hawkes Reid? That, at least, is my hope.
Meanwhile, the note I most hope to see answered—that message to a woman who may well be a granddaughter of Harry and Alice Reid—had to be sent through a genealogy website to which she last had made contact nearly a year ago. If I can receive an answer from a ten year old email address, what are my chances that contact information from a mere nine months ago will still be viable?
In answer to my own question, I don't know. But I hardly can stand the wait to discover that answer.
Harry, Mother + Self - Aug. 1936.