A Father’s Day Gift

We all sat in the den watching some dumb reality show and laughing until our sides hurt.  That’s what always happens when my oldest son, Andrew who lives in Baltimore with his wife, comes down.  He’ll leave his job as an Air Force Chinese Linguist on Thursday afternoon and spend the weekend with us.  During that time Jack and Catherine will also come over and we’ll eat horrible food and try to make each other do a spit-take while doing so.  We’ve done this several times since he returned from being stationed in Hawaii.

If you asked me what my favorite thing to do is; that is it.  All three kids and Cookie there; telling stories, making comments about current events and just generally catching up on life.

Cookie and I have three children.  There’s the aforementioned Andy who lives with his wife in Baltimore.  Catherine works with autistic children, and she graduated from VCU like her mother and father.  Jack the youngest went rogue and graduated from ODU. He is a computer guy subcontracted by Chesterfield Schools.

While the degrees and fancy Air Force jobs are great, they are not what I am most proud of in regards to my kids.  What I am most proud of is that they are genuinely kind and compassionate humans.

When you watch my kids interact with other people you can see it in their eyes.  The patience to listen, the compassion and understanding that comes from someone who truly listens to you.  I think that’s pretty rare.  I would love to take credit for it all, but I think they get it from Cookie, her sister Karen,  brother Brian, along with my dad and brother Hank;  ALL world class humans.


Cookie’s parents had to be transitioned to assisted living recently, and it has become a gargantuan task taking care of the all the details which  include re-habbing their home for sale.  We didn’t even have to ask our two offspring who live in town to help.  They have been there the whole time – cutting grass, moving furniture, making trips to charities with stuff and moving their grandparents into the new place.

Sunday we went over to the house and started throwing the dozens of black garbage bags and miscellaneous furniture into the dumpster we had rented.  It took awhile, and then we started working on the yard which needed a ton of care.  My bad back was killing me, so we took a break and went home for lunch.  Cookie remarked that she thought it would take about 10 bags of mulch to do the area we had just cleared, and I winced at the thought of it.  So I shot a text to Jack to see if his young back was available.  He must have been busy, so I didn’t hear from him right away.  I told Cookie I would go get the mulch,  meet her there, and at least drop it off in place for her.

On the way to Home Depot, Jack called and asked, “What’s up?”  I asked him if he was busy, and he said he was just getting ready to head out to go grocery shopping but it could wait.  I let him know that I was pulling into Home Depot and said, “Thanks anyway. I can handle it.”  He pleaded with me to let him help, but I told him I was good.

After dropping the mulch off I went home to take some ibuprofen and stretch and rest my back.  When Cookie got back home about an hour later she looked exhausted.  I asked her how it went, and she said that she had replanted the monkey grass. She was so tired after that she didn’t know if she could spread the mulch until…..Jack dropped by.

I could go on and on with stories about how all three were kind and compassionate but that is the most recent one.  I believe serving your country and working with autistic children kinda of speaks for itself.


When I was a teacher on the first day of school I would tell the students, “I am going to give you a gift.  It will be the most important gift that you will ever get.  The gift I am going to give you will make you happy for the rest of their life, and all that  you have to do is do exactly what I tell you”

I would ask them if they would be willing to do what I told them if it meant they would be happy?  They would all nod their “yes” and looked super excited.  Then I would point to the powerpoint slide that had popped up next and it would say – “Be a good person.”   I would then tell them that they would still experience pain, loss, and death, but on the whole if they lived their life as a good person they would be as happy as the richest person on earth.  The first lesson of the year was the most important and paid dividends throughout the school year.

So my gift this Father’s Day is the gift that I know will keep giving long after I’ve been released from this mortal coil. It’s the gift that somehow Cookie and I were able to have these kind and compassionate children.  We’ll get together and maybe have some Popeye’s chicken and try to make each other laugh.






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All Good Things Must Come to an End



Melancholy.  That’s the word I was searching for as I watched my car back out of the driveway.  I stood at the window; coffee in hand…still clad in my pajamas.  It was the type of melancholy one might experience watching their firstborn go off to kindergarten. The 2003 Toyota Corolla backed out the driveway and out of my life and into a new life.

I had sold it to my daughter Catherine when her car became cost prohibitive to fix.  Her Chevrolet Prizm was actually made at the same factory as my Toyota Corolla.  At some point on the assembly line they parted ways and met on Camrose Road.  Her Prizm has been a money pit while my Corolla asks very little.  It’s funny; different brothers from the same mother.

That 2003 Toyota Corolla and I had history.  We had driven miles upon miles; mostly alone, a lot with Cookie and some with our friends.

We had gone to teach at three different schools in two different counties.

We had crisscrossed the State of Virginia from Grayson Highland Park to Chincoteague Island in search geocaches, nature and God.

That little silver Corolla had taken us to Lynn’s chemotherapy appointments, my cancer appointments, to weddings and to high school and college graduations.

We sang in it, ate in it and sought refuge from the elements when it got too cold or hot or whatever. I had laughed, cried and slept in that car and it never asked that much of me.  A drink of gas now and then and the occasional oil change and it was ready to go.

It may have been the best $12,000 dollars a guy could spend on a car.  It required little maintenance and was always there for me.  It had the old-school crank windows and door manual door locks.  My friends always looked at me like I asked for a kidney when I requested that they lock the door.  I didn’t care.  I loved not having a car payment.

I often wonder how many hours I have sat in that car in traffic and in drive thru’s thinking about life or just being.  A type of mini-meditation retreat rolling on 15’s.

We’re both a little worse for the wear; the Corolla and me.  We’ve got some dings and dents and maybe aren’t as bright and shiny as we once were.  But we’re soulmates. We’re honest as a game of checkers and love the simplicity of it all.

My flaws as a human being are many but being materialistic isn’t one of them. I’ve got an iPhone that’s at least 4 years old and have lived in the same humble home for 30 years.  Getting a new car was not on my radar.  It was, however, time.  Catherine needed a good, dependable car at a low price point and my car fit the bill.  So last night, after getting some advice from my friend Don and my nephew Phillip (who works at CarMax) we headed over to CarMax to shop for a car.  I have to admit my heart was not in it but for the sake of my marriage we had to get a new car.

This morning I watched 13 years of my life back out of the driveway and go down the street.  I took a sip from my coffee cup in a silent toast of thanks for the 160,000 miles of service it gave me.  Here’s to new beginnings and a shared life.


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I’m a bit ashamed.  I retired from teaching two years ago this coming June and have pretty much squandered the entire two years.  So this is a confessional.  I’m coming clean.

On Facebook (or any other social media), everybody’s life is amazing.  Their posts are full of vacations, time spent with family, selfie’s with friends and hands-on-hips poses.  What if we really documented our actual life on social media?  The sadness, the arguments, times we were too lazy to leave the house?  What would our social media pages look like then?  Maybe that is what is in between the status updates and pictures of beaches and majestic sunrises.

When I retired two years ago and started working part time (20 hours a week) from home, I had grand visions about what I was going to do.  I would write that book, get back on the bike, get right with God, volunteer, spend more time with friends and get in amazing shape. I have done none of those things.  In fact – I’ve done the opposite.

I could blame it on health issues or family crises, but the truth is –  I made these choices. I made these choices. I chose not to connect with friends, to not eat correctly, not exercise, not pray or go out geocaching.  All of these were my choices and these choices have diminished my world.  The same world that reading expanded when I grew up alone on that small hill in Louisa County.  I’ve made feeble efforts to correct these transgressions but nothing major has stuck.  The coffee here or there with a friend, the rare visit to gym, eating right for a day or two and a weak attempt at writing were all bandaids for a gushing wound.

While I do not regret leaving teaching, I do regret many of my choices over these past two years.  I regret the effect this has had on Cookie and my family and friends.  I apologize. Please forgive me.  I’ll forgive myself while we’re at it.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve had some great times over the past two years but it could have gone SO much better.  I could have made a huge difference in my world.  If wishes were fishes….  So my social media game has shown little at all of me.  My gaps between the good-times-postings became longer and longer.

When I retired from teaching, the thing I looked forward to the most was – silence.  Now the silence is deafening.

At age 58, I realize I don’t have an infinite number of years left on this blue dot.  So today I will start to live again.  No more excuses.  Today I will take small steps to change all of that.  So forgive me while I take Lenny for a walk and listen to my Pray-as-You-Go podcast. Pray for and with me while I take small steps in the right direction.



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38 and Counting

All the luck that was due to me in life was used on March 30th, 1976.  It was on that day, my birthday, that I met my wife, Lynn.  It was in a roller skating rink where we were introduced by a mutual friend.  In a world of online dating and cell phone apps, it seems quaint to think we met that way.

This coming Wednesday will be our 38th wedding anniversary.  While 38 anniversaries seems like a lot, I would like to think it is just the beginning.  We’ve spent our anniversary in so many different ways.  Some have been quiet dinners and others have been more complex but in the end they were all special.

Our washer is broken and the other day, I remarked that I was out of clean pajamas during my break from work.  After work there was Lynn carrying in some bags – “I bought you some pajamas for our anniversary!!” she said.  “And I bought some for me as a present from you!!”  I almost cried.

I almost cried because what do you give someone you love so much.  Someone who has been with you through thick and thin and then thick and thin and….well you get the point.

If I had gone to every skating rink in existence for a thousand years, I would have never met someone like Lynn. She is beautiful, smart and pure of heart.  All my luck was used on that 18th birthday in 1976.  I am due not one more ounce of luck.  However if God could be so kind, I would love to have a few more years of marriage.

Last night my brother brought us a load of firewood for Christmas.  It’s a tradition and Lynn’s favorite gift.  Within an hour of unloading and stacking the wood, Lynn had a warm, cozy fire going and was fast asleep in her recliner in front of it.  Her trusty dog, Lenny, was stuffed into the chair next her – lightly snoring (Lenny that is). It was perfect.  She is perfect.  Life is perfect.





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One Year of Retiring

It was one year ago today that I hung up my lesson plan book and retired from teaching.  It has been a year of naps and solitude.  It has been delicious!  Oh sure, I’ll have coffee with the occasional friend from time to time and go geocaching with other friends but for the most part I’ve kept to myself (and Lynn of course).  I guess I’ve come full circle.

When I grew up in Lousa County, I lived miles from the closest kid my age and my mother was not a driver.  So as many of you know, I grew up lonely.  Being alone is not necessarily a bad thing.  It gives you time to sort through life and file random bits and happenings in an effort to make sense of it all.  That’s what this year has been about.  The danger of course is that you spend too much time in your head but I gotta a big head.

It was weird at first, I must admit.  After school ended I had three weeks of time off before training for my part time job started so it was like I was any other teacher for those first few weeks.  When the training started it was full time but it was all at home.  After the six weeks of training, I started my part time schedule that was from 1PM – 8PM.  I don’t know that I ever got used to that schedule and it played havoc with my sleeping, exercise and eating habits.  The result was added weight so bicycling along with geocaching were all but taken off the table.  If you add in some chronic health problems then it’s a recipe for becoming a bit of a hermit.

The good news is that starting in April my shift went to 7AM – 1:30 PM.  It’s take me a month to get back on track sleeping and health-wise. In regards to my job, it has been awesome!!  I work with some really neat people and we chat all during our shift while we work using the instant messenger.

So now I’m on a quest to eat better, exercise more AND spend more time with friends and family.  Today, since it was going to be near 95 degrees, Cookie and I grabbed our GPS’ and headed over to the trail system in and around the lakes at Innsbrook.

Someone had released a whole series of geocaches along the trail system, so we decided to find what we could until we got too hot and that way we would be close to home.  Despite the heat, it was a glorious day!  I didn’t realize what a draw these trails were even though they have been there for along time.  We saw about a dozen guys there with their wives and girlfriends racing radio controlled sailboats.  They were so intent on racing their boats that they weren’t looking where they were going and would almost run over you.

We saw a dad and his two sons fishing.  Well the dad was fishing and the two boys were looking under rocks and horsing around.  They reminded me of a young Will (Willie to some of you) who used to create all kinds of havoc while his dad was fishing over 40 or so years ago.  There were others dog walking AND geocaching!!  We couldn’t find one of the geocaches after a long look.   We happened to notice in one of the geocache logs we were signing that one our friends had been there today.  We gave him a ring and he was on the other side of the lake.  He gave us a hint and told us it was getting too hot for him, too!!

There was also a guy on a paddle board trolling around the lake.  It looked like a lot of fun but I’m not sure it was exactly legal for him to be there.

We came home and had blt sandwiches and leftover homemade cherry pie.  Naps ensued.

Do I miss teaching?  Of course I do.  I miss the kids and my teacher friends so much.  However this past year of quiet has been wonderful; not exactly physically healthy but soulfully wonderful.  Since my schedule change, Cookie and I have gone geocaching more, gone to a ball game, the botanical gardens and worked on our yard and house.  We’ve seen tons of movies and read book after book.  We live a simple, comfortable life.  We can’t travel the world or go on cruises but we can do quiet lunch time crosswords, have coffee with friends and go out for hikes and lunches and the occasional movie.  I’m pretty happy with that.

Now it’s up to me to get back in some sort of shape so I can get back on the bike and ride with my friends.  I miss my biking friends as well.

That’s been my first year of retirement.  Other than a health problem here or there it’s been pretty great.

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For Lynn on Her “Mother’s” Day

My wife, Lynn, is very modest in what she wants in life.  No fancy cars, clothes or jewelry for this girl.  Oh….I’m sure she would like all that stuff but the fact that she married a guy who was not exactly rich prevented her from having to “worry” about all those trappings.

What Lynn does love is a strong sense of family and today, the day before Mother’s Day, I think she got it.

About a month ago, Andrew, our oldest who is married and lives in Baltimore, was here for the Monument Avenue 10k Race.  Andy has kept the Bagby voracious-appetite-curse at bay by running daily and had never done the Monument Avenue.  While here, he spoke with Lynn about coming back down and walking the Susan Komen Race for the Cure with her the day before Mother’s Day.  Catherine, my middle child, who has been working out like crazy lately, also threw in on the adventure and an ensuing lunch was planned.

What Lynn didn’t know was that I also had secretly registered and was going to do it as well.  I’ve been more active lately after a small bout of a recurring illness and am anxious to get back on the bike.  On Thursday, Andrew came down and all three of them went to get their registration packets.  I told Lynn to get mine and she was pleasantly surprise!!

What was ALSO a surprise was Jack, our youngest, had ALSO registered.  The whole family was going to walk the race together.  It’s the together part that meant so much to Lynn.

The Race for the Cure is a 5 kilometer (3.1 mile) event that is held every year starting at Brown’s Island to benefit breast cancer.  Lynn is an 11 year breast cancer survivor and has done this event several times.  I’ve written about us both having cancer but what I have is nothing compared to what Lynn had to endure.  Surgery, chemotherapy and medication while I’ve had to just keep an “eye” on things.  Here’s a link to what I wrote about that time in our life

When you arrive at Brown’s Island it’s like a big party.  Music, tents with food vendors and photographers about.  You know who the breast cancer survivors are because they wear a special shirt; this year it was a solid hot pink.  You’ll see people like Lynn who have survived for many years and you’ll see women there with scarves on their heads; the badge of one who undergoes chemotherapy.  Some people wear tickets on their back they say who they are honoring or who they are remembering.  In honor of Tiffany.  In Karen’s memory.  My mom is a 5 year survivor.

I saw one family at the start who had (and I’m guessing here) a 70 year old mother who wore the survivor t shirt and was in one of those huge adult sized running strollers.  What had to be her daughter also had a solid pink shirt as well.  There were probably four or so granddaughters and grandsons running around the older lady taking turns pushing her the 3.1 miles.  I so wanted to take a picture of this family but to do so would have been an intrusion on the sacred.

We had a great time walking around Brown’s Island.  We stopped and took some pictures and even looked for a couple of geocaches.

Once the “race” started it was like a moving party.  So much chatter and laughter.  Sometimes I walked in silence just to listen to the banter between Catherine, Jack and Andy.  Catherine whose heart is so light and cheerful.  Andrew with his deadpan humor and encyclopedic knowledge and Jack who will say something so surgically hilarious that it almost makes me pee my pants.  No one gets to me like Jack.  Honestly I don’t know where he gets it.

The race meanders across the Manchester Bridge, takes a right then meanders to the Lee Bridge which you takes you back across the James River to get back to the starting point near Brown’s Island. You’re never alone during the whole walk.  It’s elbow to elbow most of the time and you’ll bump into each other and say your “sorries” and laugh.  A river of pink crisscrossing the James in defiance of this monster called breast cancer.

We all made it back to the start after seeing several people we knew along the way.  We went to a restaurant called “Bellytimber Tavern near VCU where Catherine, Lynn and I received our degrees; from the college not the Tavern.  We had food and beverages that more than offset the caloric expenditure of the race and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

I haven’t talked to Lynn about it yet.  We all came home and took a nap; another time honored Bagby tradition.  I AM willing to bet this might have been her best Mother’s Day yet.  Yes I know it’s really tomorrow.  She was grinning from ear to ear the whole time.  Let me change that.  She was literally beaming.  The radiant mother of three amazing kids; one an Air Force Linguist, one a Autistic Behavioral Therapist and the other a Technology guru.

When you’re a parent you have big doubts about how your children will turn out. You fumble around and try to provide the right guidance and say the right things but the truth is you don’t really know what you’re doing.  Nobody does.  It’s more art than science.  All that being said, with all the degrees and job honors they have garnered, I was most proud of my children today.  Showing up to support an angel in pink.

The End – not really

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The Real Math Behind Standardized Testing (SPOLIER ALERT – this number is involved – 2,500,000,000 )


The other day at 1:00PM,  I didn’t know if I could make it to the end of my shift at work which was over at 1:30PM.  I was hating life.  WAS is the key word here.  Then I looked down at my phone and started reading some of the posts on the Chesterfield Education Associations page of teacher’s presentations to the school board.  Stories of stress, illness and frustration abounded but what was really frustrating to me was the dispassionate manner in which it was all received by the school board.

I then gladly finished my shift and went to have lunch with my sweetheart.  I am a lucky man.

That being said it made me quite sad to hear all the stories my teacher friends tell me about how stressful and crazy it is.  This June will mark my first full complete year of retirement and I STILL feel guilty for retiring.  I feel guilty for leaving my friends behind to fight a fight that seems almost impossible.  May is PRIME Standards of Learning testing time in  Virginia.  You can smell it in the air and see it in the reviewing ad nauseam, sending packets of information home along with hours and hours of “test taking” strategies.

When I was in fifth grade at Apple Grove Elementary, I can remember looking at that darn clock; willing it to move faster so we could go outside and play baseball.  Yes…we played baseball.  We played tackle football.  We drank water out of the tap.  Didn’t take a daily bath in Purell  We threw dodge balls at each others heads and it was ALL less harmful than what we’re doing to kids these days in classroom.  We are robbing them of their childhood and instilling a hatred of learning.  Actually what we’re doing is not technically teaching them to learn at all.

“Test taking strategies” is same thing in my book as “IRS loophole.”  If the IRS implements a new rule for taxes there are accountants who are figuring a way around the law before the ink is even dry.  So rather than learn about the wonders of the world God has given us, we give them strategies and work a rounds when it comes to taking the test.

If you looked at the Standards of Learning ( what the student needs to know) it would be hard to argue against it.  Knowing about World War II or how to multiply three digits or the colors of visible spectrum are all wonderful standards to know or understand.  When you implement a one size fits all test to assess this knowledge AND when you make a person’s job contingent on the results then you corrupt that knowledge into a commodity.

A typical school year last 40 weeks.  At least 2-3 weeks of the year are devoted solely to taking the actually test.  You might think that doesn’t sound so bad because that leaves 37-38 weeks of awesome baking-soda volcanoes, field trips to the zoo, and science fairs.  That’s what you would think, however, what you get is weeks upon weeks of pre-tests, post tests, quarterly tests, benchmark tests, review and pretend Standards of Learning Tests.

At a recent school board meeting,  two teachers I have taught with spoke about just this topic.  I invite you to click on this link and click on the Swagit video button then go down and click on” public comments.”  Amanda and Tiffany do a much better job than I do at explaining what a time AND energy drain testing it.

Teachers are miserable.  Students are miserable and parents are miserable.  So if everyone is miserable then why does this madness continue?  Here’s a possible answer:


The revenue for the National Football League for the year 2013 by comparison was 9 billion.  $2.5 billion dollars!!  We all want the madness to stop, but I don’t think the test makers want $2.5 billion to go away.  I won’t go into conspiracy theory here but $2.5 billion will probably get you a lot of tote bags and free lunches if you’re the guy in charge of buying tests whether you’re on the State Board of Education, an school district administrator or whatever.   And at what cost?  At the cost of a disenfranchised generation is the answer.  A generation of kids who look to Instagram, Facebook and God-knows-what else to get the love and guidance that they should have gotten from us.

I can think of so many amazing conversations I’ve had with kids over the years at times when I technically should have been teaching them how to “succeed” on the Standardized Tests.  Yet when I get emails, texts or Facebook posts from them these days, not a one of them one mentions all the GREAT test taking strategies I taught them.  I guess what I gave them was more valuable.  Just not 2.5 billion valuable

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An Open Letter to All My Teacher Friends

Disclaimer:  I know said I was retiring my blog but I couldn’t help but write this one after reading the posts on the Chesterfield Education Association Facebook page.

Dear Teacher Friends,

I have read with horror and dismay the trials you are all going though this year and for the past several years.

Many of you have mentioned colleagues who are thinking of resigning or who have resigned. I fall into the latter category.

Last Spring, after teaching elementary for 8 years in Henrico and 11 years in Chesterfield, I decided to retire at age 56. After a long discussion with my wife, who retired from teaching after 30 years, we decided that it was not healthy for me to continue. So I finished the school year and sadly walked away from a job I loved.

I loved teaching because it wasn’t a job. It was a calling. A calling to change lives in a meaningful way by instilling a love for your fellow man, a love of learning and a love of reading. Why? Why did I walk away from the only job among many jobs I have had in my life (machinist, engineering estimator, corporate trainer, sales) that I loved? I walked away because the recurring word in all those reasons was no longer an option in our current climate: love.

Nowhere in the Standards of Learning, all the initiatives, the Common Core or all the VDOE is the word “love” mentioned in a meaningful way. Even in Darwin’s “The Origin of the Species” the word “love” is used many times over the linchpin word “evolution.”

So while much speculation has swirled about why I left, I left simply because the love had been micromanaged out of my day.

While I don’t mean to ostracize any non-Christian friends, there is a quote from 1 Corinthians 13:2 that may be appropriate.

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.”

With kind regards,

Will Bagby teacher-retired

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Farewell and Happy New Year

This will be the last blog I write.  It’s been a fun ride these past four years or so and I really enjoyed sharing my feelings with all of you.


I wrote my posts as a kind of therapy to help sort out the madness that went on in my head.  As time went by, I started to write more about social issues and including how they effected my job as a teacher and as a human.

lynn at the Ashland Coffee and Tea Co.

I’ve written about my dad, my wife, my kids, biking, teaching, cancer, anniversaries and growing up.

Jack Kornfield, the Buddhist teacher, once told the story of a 56 year old friend that had cancer of the brain.  The surgeons gave him a choice.  He could not have surgery and have six months to live or he could have the surgery but the chances were VERY high that cutting the tumor out would take away his ability to speak.  The man stated, “I’ve said all I’ve needed to say so I’ll have the surgery.”  I’m also 56 and I’ve said all I’ve needed to say.

I didn’t really think anyone would read it.  Mostly friends and family have read the blog and made such kind comments and for that I am truly grateful.

Despite a degree in English, I often asked Lynn to edit the posts and I would like to publicly thank her for that.

After I retired in June, I found it harder to come up with topics to blog about and I guess that’s to be expected.  I’ve sat on the idea of stopping the blog for the last few weeks thinking I would change my mind, but in the end I always knew it was time.


I didn’t write to change the world or showcase my pitiful writing skills.  I wrote just to express what I thought was in everyone’s head.  The old saying, “If you could name; you can claim it” applied to this blog.   I was trying to claim it.


Now that the New Year is upon us, I wish you all a Happy New Year and much happiness.  I will continue to enjoy my semi-retirement.  I am slowing getting back on the bike and losing the pounds, reading more books, doing more genealogy research, sleeping later, geocaching more and enjoying my part time job and new friends.  I have a wife who loves me, kids who are amazing adults, a brother who is inspirational, a dog that drives me crazy and many friends.  When I sat down to think about retiring and looked at my budget, I did not list these aforementioned things as assets.  Turns out I am very wealthy.


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What It Is is What It Was

For our anniversary, I gave us both a kind of unique present – a DNA kit.  Lynn’s dad has been an amateur genealogist for years; digging around into the history of his family (Jones’ and McCoy’s from North Carolina) and Lynn’s mom’s family (the DesAutels–French Canadians).  He can only get so far then he hits road blocks.

On my mom’s side – the Sharpe’s – I did some research and can only get back as far as the Civil War.  I really hadn’t done that much research on them until recently and it’s a work in progress.

The Bagby side of my family is much easier to research because most of it has been done by a couple of people already.  There’s even a website dedicated to it; Bagby.org.  The basic research is pretty solid for the most part and it traces us all the way back to a James Bagby who came to Jamestown around 1628 or so.  James’ country of origin is hotly debated among Bagby researchers.  Many cling to the belief that great-to-th -power of 10-grandpa-James, was from Scotland.  This opinion has no documentation to support it and the author of the Bagby.org website does a great job of pointing that out.

Also pointed out is the fact that there is a town of Bagby in Yorkshire, England.  Here is an excerpt from the website in regards to the village and how it may have gotten its name:

By John C. Downing (deceased, this was his last column)


The surnames Bagbey and Bagby are English place names acquired from once having lived at a place in the North Riding of Yorkshire, spelled Baghebi in the 1066 Domesday Book, Baggaby around 1160, Baggebi in 1280 and now Bagby. The meaning is “Baggi’s By” Baggi was an Old Norse personal name of uncertain meaning and it is found compounded with other words among the Danish settlements in England. – from Bagby.org

I also did some reading from a couple of books about the history of Louisa County;  which is where I grew up.  The Bagby’s settled there in the early 1700’s.  We were ministers, doctors, farmers and anything else you can imagine.

Lynn and I like watching shows where they trace people’s genealogy back as far as they can like Who Do You Think You Are and Finding Your Roots.  As you can expect both of the shows are heavily sponsored by Ancestry.com and they heavily promote their DNA service to help you find the origin of your family.  So since I am a consumer and an American, I purchased a couple of kits for Lynn and me for our anniversary,  They came a few weeks ago and we immediately sent samples of our best saliva and waited,  The literature said that it would 6-8 weeks so I tabled my excitement and tried to forget about.

Christmas morning while I waited for everyone to awaken and Lynn was preparing breakfast, I opened up my email and lo and behold there was an email from the Ancestry.com with the heading “Your Results Are In.”  Merry Christmas to ME AND Lynn!!!

I opened them up and they were a bit surprising.  Here they are mu results (Lynn’s results were interesting as well):


We’re 46% from western Europe which is France, Germany and southern Denmark.  That keeps the Denmark theory alive.  Next is 19% from Ireland which also makes sense to me because Louisa County (my county of origin) was heavily populated by the Scots and Irish. After Ireland is Great Britain with 17%, which also makes sense.

I don’t quite know what to make of it all but at its core it does all make sense.  It doesn’t really point to where ground zero was for the Sharpe’s or the Bagby’s but that’s okay.  I fully expected it to land me squarely in Great Britain for the most part so the France-Germany-Denmark connection was a bit surprising.

Well that probably wraps up my amateur genealogy research for awhile. I’m going to take a breather and maybe start back on the Sharpe side to see if I can get any further,   It was fun and interesting and was made so much easier with technology and the help of others

Does this change how I feel about myself as a person?  Not really.  I’m still how I grew up and the sum of my experiences.  Will, son of Walter who grew up in Bumpass.  Husband of Lynn-Father of Andrew, Catherine and Jack,  Machinist-Millwright-Project Estimator-Trainer-Teacher. Friend.

Happy New Year!!

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