Place bowl on top of head, cut any hair below bowl. I remember having to sit and wait my turn (in the first house in Rockhampton) while Sam and Tom were given their haircuts using the clippers. This then led onto Helen a few years later, at The Gap experimenting on Tom's hair with her new hair style, the result being a total crew cut to fix up the mess.

Mum said, "Pip,I have to tell you something". It all started on a warm Sunday afternoon. The BeLerse boys(that what I always called the Le Blerse boys) came over for a Sunday afternoon at The Gap, which meant a fun time with the Baskerville boys between the times of Sunday morning church and Sunday night church. The lunch was finished and all the dishes were cleaned and stacked away. The call then went out to explore the creek and so a collection of boys, Baskerville's and Belerses' went trundling down the Gawalla St hill. As we approached the intersection at the bottom of the hill where a right turn would lead to the creek and the other a straight path would lead to the Arnold's, a choice would be made but for me there was no choice, Mum had always told me not to go to the creek, so I headed off to the Arnolds. A day of fun was had at the Arnolds and after this I then headed off home, alone. Into the kitchen I bouldered, hungry, looking for something to eat. Found the jam and bread but could not find the peanut paste. With both of my hands holding the lower cupboard doors wide open and with me squatting down on my haunches, I yelled out to Mum," Where is the peanut paste?". Hoping to fill my belly with 4 or 6 sandwiches. At that moment I heard Mum come into the kitchen behind me, I stayed on my haunches expecting Mum to say, "It is on the lower shelf or behind the flour", but instead she said, "Pip, I have something to tell you". I waited without even turning around, then the words hit me, "Tuffy's dead, he drowned in the creek". There was no movement from myself, I just stayed in that position in front of the cupboard, tears welling in my eyes, as I thought of Tuffy. The moment at that intersection, where I had obeyed my mothers command, our dog Tuffy was in fact walking with me to the Arnolds, to have a day of fun in the bush. The boys were heading off to the creek and Tuffy and me were heading for the Arnolds, when one of the Belerse boys yells out to Tuffy and and that dog left my side and bounded towards the large group of boys. My thoughts at the time were that he would have more fun with them rather than with myself. Our dog never came back alive that day, and I can only imagine the anguish that Sam and the boys went through that day, but my thoughts were of that intersection where decisions are made and with the events that unfold from those decisions.
See also related story by [Tom] [Sam]

It was a Sunday afternoon, and the occasion was lunch with all the family at The Gap. We had finished lunch and David said, "Lets go for a walk". So being the mature adults that we were, we all went for a casual walk along the streets, which somehow lead on to Mt. Glorious road which started to wind up and past the large expanse of the water reservoir. As per usual, the boys, David, Sam, Tom, Pip were walking along the narrow strip beside the road, in their respective pecking order. Us younger boys were chatting away at the back following the trodden path of the pace setter at the front, David. During one of these dwindling conversations, our front man suddenly pounced and bounded over a three-strand fence and started bolting through the mass of dead branches and tall gums. This startled us to the point where a decision had to be made and had to be made quickly as our front man started to disappear and only the sound of his sneakers (Dunlop 26's) breaking twigs could be heard. Sam looked at us and without a word, his mind was made up, no way was he going to be the front man so he too bolted over the fence and started to chase after those Dunlop 26's. Well that was good enough for Tom and me and we too charged after Sam as it had to be better than being left stranded on a remote road somewhere between home and the bush. Well the following of the body in front of the body in front of the front man continued for a while until we all came to a stop on the edge of the bush and the back marsh lands of the reservoir. We all just stood and looked at the scene. The bush was behind us, in the short distance we could see the bush start again but in between was a land mass that resembled a dairy cow paddock full of Lucerne. The lush green marsh land was then separated by a narrow strip of mud which we had to cross before we could continue. At this point Sam must have felt that his moment of leadership was to be tested. He had observed how David had leapt with authority off into the bush knowing full well that his brothers would follow. So with this observation fresh in his mind, he leapt from the side bank into the narrow strip of mud and towards the green lush land mass and eventually towards home. Well the brothers did not follow immediately but instead fell down laughing because in Sam's initial leap he ended up in the mud but he was now stuck firmly in place with his legs buried up to his thighs and totally immobilised. We wished him well on his journey and proceeded to cross about 100m further up where there was no narrow strip of mud. Somehow Sam regained his position with us but with mud covering his entire legs as though he was in some National Geographic photo, alias poor squelchy toes was truly tested that day. The journey continued through those back marsh lands and more obstacles were overcome. The 6ft high grass need to be penetrated for us to continue. There we stood again, each looking for an alternative way around this predicament, but there seemed no answer when another bolt of leadership arose and Tom just charged at the 6 ft grass and started to make headway through it. Well that inspired the rest of us because we just all followed at pace, but it was easier for us at the rear as the front man was taking all the full force of the grass jungle. Well the thought of snakes, boa constrictors (another National Geographic photo), alligators all sprang to mind which just made us all jumpy, lifting our knees high and staying in close proximity to the man in front. Always knowing that if you are the last man and straggling at the back, well you would be the one caught and taken (blast those black and white cowboy/Indian movies, they played havoc with our young minds). So this caused a bunching up of the rear runners aiming to be as close as possible to the front man. Tom was doing well unti we started to hit some uneven ground which was totally hidden by this long 6 ft grass. Down he went, but not in a sudden fall more in a slow motion style as the grass cushioned his fall as he fell face first. But as the rear men were in no state of mind to be thinking about the fortunes of the front man, we were not even observant to the fact that we had all run over the top of Tom as he lay face first into his cushioned bed of long grass. Straight away Sam was now the lead man and just kept pushing, running, lifting knees, anything to keep our legs out of the long grass and absolutely anything but the last rear man. When suddenly my front vision, which was the back of Sam's shirt turned into a vision of long strands of grass, and under my feet I felt the soft cushioning of Sam's back as I ran over his fallen body, David and Tom followed immediately after me, So here I was the lead man pushing and shoving at this mass of grass, and poor Sam was now that last man, as long as it wasn't me, when my vision of long grass turned into dark shadows as I too felt the pounding of feet over my arched back as I realized where I was, lying face down in this grass where boa constrictors live. Not much conversation, well intelligible conversation was happening at this time, as we fought with our minds and of course the grass, but eventually we emerged from this land of National Geographic exotic wild places, and we faced with a large body of freshwater to cross before we could get home. Home seemed so distant, so remote from this land that was trying to engulf us. So the slow swim was entered into, first the freestyle, which ended quickly, then the breaststroke, which was painful to the mind, because the land that we were trying to swim to did not seem to be getting any closer. Lastly, backstroke but without the stroke, I was the least capable of swimming and David stayed with me as I slowed and even had to drag me through the water. Eventually we reached a point where the shallow lake started to rise towards the banks and we all could touch the bottom. We started to wade towards the bank with Sam and Tom in the lead when they started to slow down. The foreshores of the lake were impassable due to the heavy growth of aquarium weed. This particular weed was long, up to 10ft long and interwoven with every other weed all struggling to reach the sunlight from the bottom of the lake. It took great team work to move through this mass, the front man would make a path, and push the weed to one side while the rest of us in a close formation let the weed go past us and close in behind us. It was a slow process but a successful event. Through all this fight with the weed, we were able to catch sight of the ranger's house in the distant that was built on a rise of land that had magical views over the reservoir. The ranger's duties included keeping trespassers out of the reservoir compound, as this was largely the drinking supply of water for western Brisbane. As we left the water, pulling long strands of weed off our bodies, we all started wave our hands around and started to swat at bugs, huge biting bugs, mosquitoes that could be heard flapping as they approached our warm blood, as if they had never seen such a feast before their beady eyes. Well this turned us boys into a fanciful elite Austrian dancing troupe. As each of us stated to jump, hop, slap and move around as though it was carefully choreographed. Another solution had to be found, and one of us bolted away from this area along the foreshore, but still these huge bugs had their honing targets on us. A gravel stream came before us that was no deeper that about 6 inches and we all jumped into the stream throwing water into the air. This seemed to quell the flying rodents as they sought our warm blooded bodies. So all four of us sat in this stream throwing water into the air as we gained relief from our bitten bodies. Our arms started to tire, so one of the boys laid down in the quick flowing water and discovered that the fast flowing water would cover your entire body, and if you put your head upstream it would create a veil of water that projected over the top of your face and fell back to the ground. So we had the perfect solution in providing total relief from those bugs. We could rest, our bodies were being soothed by cool flowing water and the face veil of water meant we did not have to wave our arms around creating the shield of water. Well we must have laid there for about 10 minutes, until the thoughts of home started to enter of minds as we were now starting to feel safe from, mud that could swallow an entire cow, to boa constrictors, to marathon swims, to choking weeds and blood thirsty gnats. So the call was made lets make a dash up this flat gravel bed creek, which will make for easy running from the gnats, but also the splashing of the water will keep them away, and we can always dive under the water again when we get tired. So 1,2,3, we all sprang up and started to run up the creek. The creek ran straight for about 10-15 meters then took a right hand bend around this low lying willow wig tree which partial obscured the creek and its banks. So as we ran towards the willow wig tree we had to prise or duck under the sagging branches knowing that once under this wall of sagging branches the tree would open up into a large void, a great place to hide. Well were in no mood for hiding so we just jogged on through the sagging branches, each person in single file following each other. I was last and following the others I could see them do a large side step, a quick head turn then a burst of acceleration out to the other side of the willow tree. I did not know was going on till my nostrils filled with the vilest smell which caused my head to snap, then my body did an enormous side step as my eyes came into focus on a large shape lying in the creek bed. A dead cow was lying bloated in the middle of the creek bed, the same creek bed downstream where we were delighted in creating a water veil over our faces, especially as some of the water would fall into our mouths which gave us a refreshing drink (so we thought). Well my legs burst into acceleration to enable me to breathe fresh air again, and as I emerge out the other side of the willow tree, I found three brothers huddled together, each with a wretched look on his face as all of them and myself started to spit, gag, moan, anything to try and rid ourselves of the vile thought that we were all drinking water that was shared with a dead bloated cow. Well, this inspired us to head for home in the easiest straightest path. A road crossed our path, so the natural decision was to walk along this road in the direction of home, knowing that home was now only a short time away, and with no obstacles to overcome. We were walking in two by two formation, chatting away, especially about that cow, yuck, when three brothers become acutely aware of a strange but familiar noise. The noise of a two stroke engine, on this secured road, which was blocked from the public with large signs declaring "No Trespassers", a road that was cut into the hill with a large sharp rise on one side and a sharp fall on the other side. This road had many twists and turns as it stuck closely to the regular contours of the tree studded hill. This made it impossible to see more than about 20 meters of road, and even more impossible to determine which direction that noise of this motor bike was coming from. Now I said three brothers heard this as Tom hearing is not as acute as ours and as this noise became more louder instinctively all three brothers reacted, as there could only be one solution to the noise, "The Ranger" the one who probably had spotted us swimming in the precious drinking water of the reservoir. So all three brothers knew our orders, "Hide". Tom on the other hand was totally unaware and was perplexed to the sudden convulsion of his three brothers who all jumped over the sharp edge to hide against the sharp wall on the low side of the road. Tom still standing on the road, looked at us, as the noise of the motorbike became loder and louder. With a lot of hand signaling and pulling on arms, we managed to get Tom down the embankment, and pressed our faces hard against the earthen wall just as the ranger? Zoomed past and left behind a cloud of dust. We waited and listened and listened, Tom sat and looked, we listened. The bike disappeared, we left our safe hiding spot of the sharp wall and started to head home. Home was but a few streets away, and the afternoon was almost gone. It would be shower and then tea and toast before driving to church and of course no mention was need to be made to Mum, because we only had been for a Sunday walk.

I was always fascinated by the motions of nature, especially water. I would watch and study the movements of a creek, hydrology is what I think it is called. There must be something that is installed in the Baskerville gene, it's just that some brothers seem to drawn to the macro end of the scale while I was always interested in the micro side of water movement. I could study the ripples of water as it flowed over different terrain along a creek path, where the water would in fact seem to stand still in forming little waves as it poured over some small pebble creek bed. I was also fascinated by the unrelenting pressure of the water to move along a creek bed, and at times spent many hours creating obstacles in its path to either halt the flow or to watch as the water was in fact diverted to another section of the creek that had be bone dry for a long time. The calculations in contours, rate of water flow, effects of rise and fall all caused me to stop and observe for many hours, this was due in part to the fact that I was not trying to save my life whilst plunging down some torrent creek or being swept away in a bottomless boat, no I was at the other creek that was barely deep enough to allow tadpoles to swim, but still it held my attention. The other boys would be off somewhere else and I would find myself alone with my tadpole creek, observing and calculating. So when my chance came where I was allowed to participate on a large water body, a river, with my parents approval, I just had to explore the hydrology of this greater expanse of water. So forget the small pebble creek bed with small undulations, this was a river and demanded a greater challenge in observing even greater movements of water, yes my moment was here and I engaged in an activity that would divulged the river's hydrology secrets. And as I was accustom to working and studying alone I thought nothing of working alone again even though Sam, Helen, Tom and Dad were in very close proximity. So my experiment was set and I became totally engrossed in observing this mighty power of hydrology, a chance in a life time for me. The way the water would rise and fall, the way that it would deviate around this obstacle, the way in which large waves would stand up and bounce around held my individual attention for about half an hour. I was in my own world, in my world of calculating and observing natures motion of water. I was totally oblivious to the sounds of the rest of the family as they sat near me on that river, obviously enjoying the water in their own special way just as I was enjoying it in my own way. I was totally immersed in this experiment that I was performing until Helen broke my concentration as she sat in the back of the rowboat that Tom, Helen, Sam, and Dad had been rowing and asked what I was doing hanging over the bow for the last half an hour. Aha! Someone else may be interested also in my hydrology experiment, so I reached down over the bow to water level and removed from the front of the bow a largish plank of wood that had been performing beautiful wave pulses every time the others pulled on the oars, for I had noted that if (a) was a large force on an oar and (b) was a large plank placed perpendicular across the bow then a + b was always equal to an extreme reaction of the water pulsating in a myriad of directions and form. The look on their faces when that dripping wet plank was held high, definitely told me that they had no idea that (a + b) was in fact an awe inspiring revelation and obviously did not understand these highly intellectual computations that I had been devoted to. I was relinquished of my hydrology obstacle and the last I saw of it was it being thrown through the air to land in the deepest part of the river and as if to defy its humility it created one last circular surge of water to leap into the air and then fall back and then it slowly drifted away. I was then shackled like a slave to an oar and ordered to row back home, There seemed to be little sympathy for me as I proceeded to struggle with that oar and I quickly forgot my (a + b = c) for now it felt like (a + b = a + b).

After moving from Rockhampton to Brisbane, a Toowoomba Grammar old boy being my grandfather keeping in the sense of the Grammar boy spirit enrolled his eldest son David into Brisbane Grammar School. My uncle was readily accepted into the school and in 1966, the first ever Baskerville Grammar boy began to form. A Baskerville Grammar boy is formed over the five years of schooling that is offered at Brisbane Grammar, and none of the nine graduated boys of the two generations so far have failed to fulfil the giant footsteps that have been left by the legend of the Baskerville boy. My first experience with the Baskerville boy within the social setting of the school community was in 1998 at the GPS Track and Field Championships. The scene was Nudgee College and the rich blue tartan track, the four by four hundred meter relay was in progress with Nudgee in first position and Grammar in a close second coming into the last leg of the race. What happened next was unbelievable, the school spirit among the blue supporter army was rising, as Michael Baskerville (or more commonly referred to as 'Baskers') received the batten. Nudgee sprinted out ahead too put themselves thirty meters in the clear, but the cool mind of Basker's prevailed and took the race in a strangle hold. Whether he knew what he was doing or not is beside the point, Basker's came round the final bend neck and neck with the Nudgee athlete. With the roar of the Grammar supporters behind him, he ripped down the home straight for a momentous Grammar victory and Howsy was ecstatic with joy and in the censored version came out with "you bloody ripper". I remember from that day on, I wanted to be just like my cousin when I got older. This type of man, the Baskerville man is what I aspired to be, aimed to achieve in my time Grammar. Just over three months later, the chance for me and my cousin achieve this dream was upon us. For a day or so, Mitchell and I were known as Mitchell and Stephen respectively, but that was very short lived. On Tuesday morning at roll call Mr. Green began to read out the students names; "Mitchell Baskerville?" "Here sir" "Stephen Baskerville?" "Here sir" The response from the form seniors in the room at the time was immediate. They slowly made their way over and began saying "So you boys are Baskerville's" and not knowing what the big deal was me and Mitchell responded with a curious "yeah". Little did I know the consequences of being a Baskerville at Grammar, but from that point onwards we were both known as Baskers. The word began to go out that there were two new Baskerville's within the ranks of the school, and I almost felt as popular as the Beattie twins. Despite being a Baskerville and having my name spread around the school, I felt that there was something missing within my life. The only two people at school that I really felt I had good friendships with were my cousin Mitchell, which was expected, and Rajneel Puran. These were the two people I knew I could count on when I needed someone. Now Mitchell and I just had one of those friendships that all cousins do, where you love to be friends but also don't want to be the same and people saying how similar we were. But Raj and I had a totally different type of friendship. I think what made our friendship was that we both had a common interest, we both loved to get up to a bit of mischief both in and out of class. In those two years that Raj was here at school with us, we had some unforgettable memories. Except in this time I was friends with Raj, I did receive five afternoon detentions in year eight, and two in year nine. Except Raj being the character and sweet talker as he was, managed to talk the malleable Mr. Gee and get me and the rest of the guys off the detentions, except he still took the punishment. It was this quality and qualities like these that really shone and showed me what a good friend Raj was, despite other people's opinions about him. So in all year eight and nine were good old times, where 8D and 9D were apparently the worst classes some teachers had taught ever, with the ever present paper wasp wars, continual chatter, a few broken windows and annoyance of teachers. All of these memories will stick with me forever, and they have formed who I am today. Sport was another big thing to me and a very important part of the well rounded Baskerville boy figure. Now the first and only sport that was of any significant importance to me in year eight and nine was my life long passion of Rugby. Ever since I was six, the only thing out side of school that I can really remember is football consisting of rugby league, oztag and rugby union. I used to spend hours out in the parks behind our various houses tirelessly practicing kicking and passing. And so when the rugby season finally came around I was signing up as quickly as possible. That year was a memorable one, playing in the thirteen B's, C's and D's, with a try in each team. In the fourteen's I ended up playing the whole season in the B's and one try. I knew that I was not the most skilled or valued player in these teams, and that I did not really fit in with the rest of the players in the teams, but I consistently turned up to training after training, game after game and tried as hard as I could to play well and fit in. Just being out there on the field made me happy, knowing that I had a place in a team, and that I had a part to play while enjoying myself. I was part of the year 8 B gymnastic team as well, a strong Baskerville tradition. This only lasted one year, and after the new gymnasium was built, my gymnastics career died in quite unfair circumstances. I was told by another gymnast that Mr. Fritz had kicked me off the team, and so I never went back. But a year later I was told by this gymnast that he was only joking, and all I could do was think what could have been. This reaffirmed my thoughts that I would never make friends and be a real Baskerville boy. In year eight I also enjoyed singing and joined Grammar Vocal Ensemble. I was surprised to learn that Baskerville's before me had also enjoyed singing, and people were quick to point this out to me. It was as if I could not live up to the standard left by previous Baskerville's, it was just so hard. At the start of grade ten, I was shocked on the first day back at school to find out both Mitchell and Raj had left the school. There was talk of both of their leaving's but I did not want to accept the fact that they wouldn't be there, and on that first day back it really started to hit home that it wasn't just some joke. That first semester back in year ten was the hardest semester I ever faced at my time at Grammar. I no longer cared about the Baskerville boy, I began to rebel. The name calling from classmates, such as A.D.D. and 'get involved' I could no longer handle, and I started to take my anger out on the perpetrators. I had about seven or eight music block scuffles that semester, hurting only a few people along the way. One thing that I did learn from that experience is you do not want to pick a fight with Hongy. I felt the only friends I had left were those Terrace boys and All Hallows girls that I caught the train to and from school with, and they still are good friends today. That semester my Rugby career hit a high for a short period with Howsy and Mr. Mewing naming me in the A's for the trail against B.B.C. This was an exciting yet very scary time for me, as I did not really have the build of an A's player. It just happened to be my luck that the two tackles that I made that day were on Quinton, the prop forward and the huge in-centre, both times blacking out for a few seconds and straining my left shoulder's rotor cuff. That ended up being seven weeks on the sideline and finishing the season with games in the A's, B's and C's. Halfway through my schooling career at Grammar and mum and dad bought a house 100 meters down the road from school. We moved in in the June/July holidays and I decided to play a new sport as well. I began basketball as some fun and fitness. I began in the D's as a reserve as it was the first time I had ever played basketball, and for the first time I actually started making some decent friendships with some of the boys, and started realising there was hope yet and even though I had had a bad year so far I could still be a great Grammar Baskerville boy. As the Basketball season passed, I progressively improved from scoring two points in my first five games to scoring sixty points in my last five games, gaining a place in the C's team and getting best and fairest player for the 15D's. Moogerah in year 10 was also one that I will not forget. Not only did I win $30 gaining the most points on camp for helping out which I would normally do, but also was awarded the French Legionnaire shirt which is a Mr. Brilliant tradition every time he goes to Moogerah to honour the most reputable person on the camp, as well as gaining respect from my class. Another thing that started happening when we moved to the city was we began attending church, Brisbane City Church in the Valley. I and my siblings thought it was just a waste of time, finding it boring and pointless. We didn't go much at all, as little as possible the better we thought. But then one night I made a life changing decision at one of the big youth concerts mum and dad made me go to, I accepted Christ into my life and became a Christian. This changed my life forever, the music I listened to changed, I thought before I spoke, my thoughts were changed and my whole way of life was challenged. I believe that this part of my life has just helped me grow and mature so much from a Baskerville boy into the Baskerville man. Year eleven and twelve has been a blur of sporting and academic endeavours. It started with 16D cricket and more friendships. Then came rugby where I found myself with a try in the first game, as well as broken leg on the opposite side of the field to where I was meant to be. This allowed me to act as a cross country timer, and support the fella's who were running. Later in the season I tried to play Basketball but I was still suffering from weakness in my broken leg. So I decided to focus all my attention on Track and field managing, which I will come back to soon. This was the year I also became very involved in church and youth group, youth on Friday and church twice on Sunday. I did not only do this because I loved God and wanted to practice Christianity, but also because I had found my spot in a community, and had formed so many friendships that I had to pinch myself to see that I was not dreaming. Year twelve has been such an amazing journey so far. It has had so many special moments that I will cherish forever away in my memory banks. The formal, QCS, sneaking home for lunch all those times, many good times. I also took on many responsibilities, chairman of the ISCF (Inter-School Christian Fellowship), form senior of 9B and was junior leader at rage youth, Brisbane City Church's youth group. I also had some great sporting achievements in year 12. I ran in my first ever GPS cross country championship and ran a 1½ personal best on the day of 24 minutes and was 7th in for Grammar in 40th place overall. I played in the 2nd XV after thinking I was going to be in the 4th's and had a great season with a few wins. In these teams I was greatly respected, and I felt the Baskerville spirit in me was really working away and maturing. The final sport in which I participated in this season was track and field. As a manager my job was to know everybody and everything about them. As this person you may think people would get annoyed with you for being a sticky beak, but instead of this I actually formed great friendships with many of the boys. They looked up to me as a leader, and all I was doing was being myself, a Baskerville, all that I knew how to be. My commitment to the team also meant that I had plenty of contact with Mr. Clancy and his coaching staff, as well as the girls he was coaching. These girls and Clancy provided me with an outside view and told me that I had such a good relationship with all the boys in the team, and I realised I was beginning to touch the school with my Baskerville spirit. My whole time at Grammar as a Baskerville boy was reflected just last Saturday at the GPS track and field championships. Not only did my own crowd shout out my name when I walked pass them, but so did some of the Terrace and Ipswich crowds. What really impressed me though was that Mr. Clancy had got me this world cup jersey, and as something even more special, one of the girls Clancy coaches, Alyce went and got it signed by all the middle distance crew, my team. It was so special and showed me that I was as much a Baskerville boy as any other Basker's that had passed through the school. I had made it; I had finally satisfied my self, I was very much like my cousin, like what I had aspired to be. The second generation of Baskerville's within the framework of Brisbane Grammar School is starting drawing to an end for me, but hopefully the legend of the Baskerville spirit will live on within the historical buildings in the school. Hopefully once my brothers and cousins finish it will not be long at all until a third generation begins a new epic adventure of discovering the Baskerville history.

Josh Baskerville connected with me.

I did not seek his company, nor did I talk with him and yet he connected with me.

This happened firstly through phone calls from Mum and Dad, followed by chats with other family members.
Talking and discussing built a small link between myself and Josh, but when I clicked and opened a picture file on my email one day, I became connected.
Not only by name and heritage lines but by connections of family. This was Josh Baskerville, son of Terry and Shona, looking at me through his blue eyes, his only way of communicating with me.

The questions that he asked were already asked, and it was the response to these questions that he was seeking. The response that he sought was not one of pity, or one of sympathy, but one of love and compassion.
He connected with me by his expressions of overwhelming love.
Love that seems to flow through generation lines, where time and patience within family have built layer upon layer of strong links of love. The heartfelt love of family as David and Terry and Shona gave their tributes to Josh was immeasurable as I sat surrounded not only by my own children and other cousins, but brothers and sisters, wives and husbands, and distant family members. The love I felt and saw today I know will be lasting and this love will flow through to the next generational line, this I know, just as previous Baskerville generations have had this engraining attribute, so will the future generations. Josh was evident of this endearing quality of expressing love that binds one to another, creating these connections that can only be shared and not kept within.

Josh connected with me.

So wherever we go from now on, there will remain that connection, the binding of family with love, eternal hope and joy. The binding to the heart where no thing or person or time can remove these family connections.
God bless,
Pip