The Wheat and The Bird

I will never forget the opening scene in Gladiator. The strong hand gently touching the wheat in the field. The lone bird that flies away. We would soon find out it was the main character Maximus. He would lead Roman forces in 180AD against Germanic tribes and bring temporary peace to the Roman Empire. Loosely based on real characters in those times, the Romans had already invaded England in 43AD and stayed for over 400 years. A large army of “Britons” drove the Romans to finally withdraw from England in the Fifth Century. Afterward a variety of Barbarians., the Angles, Saxons and Jutes raided Britain. The legend of King Arthur (or was it a Roman soldier?) tells the story that he lead an army to stave off the Saxons in the 5th and 6th centuries.

The scene in my story opens in the year 951AD where the Romans are occupying a small town in Essex, England. When the Germanic peoples showed up the town was named Dunemowe then later it was changed to Dommawe and eventually in 1086, in the earliest census book, the “Domesday Book,” it was called Dunmow.

In medieval times, Dunmow was a bustling commercial centre with markets and two annual fairs that continued until the 19th century. Reasoning there is nothing new under the sun I am assuming the Romans and Germanics lived in decent harmony for a period of time. Imagining history, scenes out of Gladiator, slaves and circus performers entertaining Emperors, the barbaric acts, more wars and genocides to come, tyrants and conquerers. Peace, conflict, repeat. Not much has changed in 2022, so why not dive in and discover the good, fascinating and hopeful in your family history.

Tracing the Gunns of Dunmow, as early as the 15th Century, they were mostly poor peasants working on farms watching their children succumb to early deaths from disease and plagues. Many most likely labored for the Lords and Ladies of manors that still exist today. Looking back at the men in the Gunn family I see strong, stoic, modest hired hands. As transportation and industry came there was progress and opportunity in their labor.

The mid-1800’s brought a booming railway system to England. Dunmow Station opened up in 1869. My “Great” Granddad Albert Gunn was born in 1877 in Great Dunmow, Essex and was a Slinger on the railway. He worked hard to provide for his wife and five children with more opportunity than his ancestors.

My Granddad Albert Gunn, was born in 1906 and had four sisters. He would grow up to take an interest in furniture polishing. Working for the most reputable furniture store in London he earned the title of number one French Polisher. Granddad worked in many beautiful homes including Rochford Hall, a manor house in Essex. No ordinary manor house, The Boleyn residence would be where King Henry VIII first laid eyes on the young Anne Boleyn. During this time King Henry was married to Catherine of Aragon, a barren woman unable to bear him an heir to the throne. The entire Reformation began with the Pope declining the King’s request for an annulment from Catherine so he could marry Anne.

A very modest man like his father, Granddad stayed in his only home until he passed at the age of 97. He lost his wife, my grandmother Violet, when she was only 42. He never remarried. I was able to spend time with him, sipping tea in his quaint garden lanai, offering up a “Digestive Biscuit” to dunk, walking in the morning to the butcher, helping him make apple pie and watching him shake with joy, holding my first baby. As a teenager I was able to throw on a West Ham scarf and attend a match with my Dad, brother, Granddad, his twin sister’s husbands, Uncle Ernie and Uncle Squibs and immerse myself into the crowded, swaying stadium singing “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles.” Rare trips and life-long memories that made it hard to leave.

My dad, Roy A. Gunn, was born in 1936 as WW2 raged on. A sister would come 10 years later. After high school he signed a two year commitment to the Royal Air Force, however due to his bad shoulders, he could not finish and entered trade school for aviation mechanics. My dad thought he could do more with his life and mom agreed. They sold the little they had, we boarded a plane to America and waived goodbye to our entire family in 1963. Destination Southern California, where the aviation industry was booming, with a 6 month visa in hand and a sponsor. I was three years old. We were a small puzzle piece from a large puzzle that broke away. Although I carried a longing in my heart, most of my life, I embraced the people and opportunities in America.

My maternal nana was the only one to follow us within that year.

Shortly after we arrived in America, dad got a mechanics job at Santa Monica Airport and actually worked on Hollywood star Jimmy Stewart’s airplane. When the industry began to suffer, for various reasons, someone overheard one of dad’s polite work inquiries and told him that Disney was hiring. Dad applied as a shop welder and would end up building many of the rides we enjoy today at Disneyland and Walt Disney World. If you’re a 60’s kid you would remember the GE Building in Disneyland and the show “America Sings.” Dad’s shop built the vintage cars that would appear on the revolving stage. He was also very involved in laying, welding and testing track for many of the popular rides in Disneyland.

Just before Walt Disney World opened in 1971 dad would be sent to test every single ride in the park. Due to his aircraft experience he was also highly trained in pneumatics and quality control. I remember being nine years old when he left for a few weeks to work at Disney World. After dad got home he spoke of the huge alligators that walked across the grass past his hotel room. Exhausted, he stated he “never wanted to go on a ride ever again!” For two solid weeks dad rode every ride in the park 12 times each, every single day, testing brakes. All I could think was “we are never going to Disneyland!” As it turned out it was a very special place when we did get to go and I love remembering Disneyland that way. Dad once traded all our “E-tickets” so he could build a dune buggy! My brother and I would check the “ticket drawer” often. We’ll never forget mom’s face when that drawer was found empty. Another jalopy would be dumped in our driveway to have it’s engine extracted.

In 1974, when I was 14, dad went back to Florida for a month to begin the Space Mountain project. A few years before he passed away, we were at the dinner table as dad began to tell the story of that trip. He laughed and marveled about the fact that they had no measuring equipment and a backlot the size of a football field. Dad headed up a team which “eyeballed” the laying of the Space Mountain ride track. We were amazed listening but even more amazed was my dad. He marveled, through some laughter, at how his team literally conquered Space Mountain and I have yet to visit Disney World!!

During my teens dad had a lot of hobbies. He loved photography, working on cars, camping, and was always creating something. My favorite time was when he taught himself how to make turquoise and silver jewelry. To this day we treasure his creations, some already passed down. Dad was definitely tough, nomadic and industrious, much like a Viking. I had great respect for him.

Dad eventually went back to his first love of aviation and working until retirement as a quality control manager for a British-based company that provided brakes and tires for many of the airlines. He flew jump-seat all over the country, getting out upon landing, running under the plane in business attire, special tools in hand, measuring tire pressure and brake heat. It was the first job dad ever had wearing a suit and tie.

If Dad was working in the aviation industry today, he would be the one heading up a team to question today's quality control in the industry.

To witness dad’s painful death, in a hospice over Christmas and his birthday on the 29th, made for a multitude of sorrow. At the time we also had a son/his grandson not speaking to us. He waited in that hospice for something to change. For his family to gather. There was nothing but Love protecting us. I’ll never forget him asking if it was Christmas? The disappointment in his beautiful blue eyes, which seemed to grow sharper in color with each day, spoke of great times in Dunmow, during Christmas and birthday. Dad was missing that. He was missing us. All of us. Despite his independent, not too social nature, it was the one time dad loved as many people around as possible. He especially loved choosing his great grandchildren’s presents. Growing up dad got one gift for both Christmas and birthday.

I recently discovered dad’s parents married on Christmas Day in 1933.

Dad passed away early in the morning New Years Day 2021.

From the laborious fields of Great Dunmow’s manors, to slinging soot on the railway, polishing furniture in a beheaded Queen’s childhood manor, and building a modern day moon ride for the original Imagineer… Ordinary lives, strong men passing through power, pomp and circumstance, running their worn hands through the wheat fields.

The lone bird flies away.

The land and the sea, the wheat and the bird. We are rooted in the simplicity of hope, putting in a good day and doing something that gives us purpose.

Hopeful. Stumbling.

This is the family we keep.

“In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.”

– Alex Haley

Roy A. Gunn

Next up: I will ponder estrangement and the short story of the Grandmother I never knew.