I grew up in New Malden, Surrey when in England. After my first husband died in 1974 I travelled back and forth between the two countries, as my mother was still living and elderly. I then resided in Surbiton, Surrey. Which is where my second husband comes from. We were married in 1989 when we returned to the United States to reside near my children.

I have three great children, all married with all families of their own, but we are a close-knit family.

I have nine grandchildren. Although Kurt Arthur was killed in a car accident almost seven years ago, I still count him as my grandchild.

I have ten great grandchildren. (Two of them are adopted but that makes no difference to us.) We love them all.

My children obviously have made many visits to England and some of the grandchildren, too. They all love England and are very proud of their British roots. The eldest great grandchild is almost sixteen and that is her biggest wish to go to England. I am sure she will make it.

I met my GI, Arthur Wayne McGibbon, or Artie, at Kingston upon Thames, Surrey. It was at a dance held at the School Hall, Bushy Park. Artie served at SHAEF, Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force, Eisenhower's Headquarters, which was close by. So there were a few GI's there.

Although I did not actually meet Artie in the hall. When my sister Phyllis, girlfriend Vera and I left we started to cross the road. Artie his friend were just leaving the hall. Of course, this was all in the blackout. Vera and I stepped off the curb and did not notice a black taxi flying round the corner. Artie called out to "watch out" and we stepped back onto the pavement. Then he offered to walk us safely to the bus stop. We made a date for the following Saturday (which I really did not intend to keep) but during that week on a Thursday bumped into him as I was coming home from work (at G.F. Havell and Sons, Builders and Contractors) in Kingston on Thames.

We dated unbeknown to my father for a while (he was quite strict and I always had to be home by ten o'clock,) but my elder sister and my friend Vera always went along with us. We would go to the Empire Theatre Kingston, the pictures (movies), skating at Richmond, pop in to a pub or even the Milk Bar for coffee.

One day I was sick with the "flu" and my mother was travelling to Kingston and I had her meet Artie and explain why I would not be seeing him that night. She then told my father what a nice boy he was. Even then my father did not agree. He said, "What will the neighbours think"? I was quite cheeky and told him, "I did not care what the neighbours would think". I was then told that if I continued to see him I would not have a home there. After about two weeks of ignoring me (which really hurt, as I adored my father), he asked, "Have you made up your mind then"? I said, "Yes, I am still going to see him," and about a week later I arranged for Artie to come to the house to pick me up. My father told me, "As he comes through that front door I am leaving out the back door". Anyway Artie arrived early, dad could not make a quick retreat and after that thought the world of him. He treated him as his own son.

Of course I was pretty young and I think that had a lot to do with his objections. Plus if things got serious I would be travelling far away. I had just turned 16 when we met: he was 20. That was April 1944. Artie left for France in July 1944 he had a furlough for Christmas and we became engaged. We were married at St. James Church New Malden, Surrey, August 20th 1945.

Artie was a very quiet guy. He was very handsome and had lovely blue eyes. He really was a very nice person. Never loud. Very easy going. He was raised on the family farm, a very nice, modern dairy farm, which was in the family for four generations. He had brothers Lyle, Robert and sisters Joyce, Leah and Janet.

We had no problem with the US Army. Both his parents and my parents had to write their approval to the commanding officer. The Padre of his outfit was very nice and said: "We would grow up together," which was very true.

Artie returned to the States March 1946 and I followed in the May. I was duly "processed" at Tidworth, (in Hampshire, the Transient Camp for War Brides) and I arrived in New York harbour on the SS Holbrook. I stayed up top as much as possible. It was no cruise, that's for sure. I was thankful I did not have a baby to care for when on board ship. It was very hard for the girls with babies. I did help a girl care for her baby. She was in a cabin with three other mothers and babies. It was very hard because when one baby went to sleep another would awake, cry and wake up the rest. I would take her little boy (about three months old) on deck in a carrycot so she could sleep or wash nappies (diapers). They just had a small room for hanging washing and had a hard time getting it dry. They also had to line up for baby formulas. I had also held a baby just three weeks old and so small on the train from Waterloo to Tidworth to give the mother a break. The girl did not look well at all and if that had been me I know there was no way my father would have let me leave home.

My husband was to meet me at the boat but due to a mix -up by the Army I was sent by train (an overnight trip) to his hometown of Constable, New York. I remember waking up during the night and looking out the window. We were passing through a swampy area and did wonder then where was I heading. My husband met me at the train and he was in "civvies" - having only seen him in uniform I did not recognize him at first.

I arrived at a dairy farm in upstate New York. A very nice modern farm. It was heaven to shop when I first arrived. No coupons[1] and all the nice clothes and shoes in the shops. My husband did take me on a shopping spree.

I got along well with my mother in law. She definitely was not the interfering type. She was really a very quiet easy-going lady.

Here my daughter Susan was born in March 1947, my son Leslie in April 1952 and my daughter Sharon in December 1954.

Was it a challenge? Well, I guess it was, going to a farm when the closest I had been to a cow was passing one on a train. Although I never did the milking, I drove tractors and trucks, planted grain and mowed hay. Also I canned all kinds of fruit and vegetables and had to cook dinner for up to 14 men during threshing time. When my husband was ill I managed the farm along with a hired hand.

Cooking was O.K. although I did not cook in England. I did take the usual housewifery in school and managed well. I even canned fruit, vegetables and beef. Made pickles and jams also bread, rolls and cakes etc. It was a bit rough when on the farm when the threshers came. Anywhere from ten to fourteen men to feed at least three hearty meals and it all had to be home cooked with pies, cakes and homemade cookies.

I have missed home in many ways, mostly because of family in England. I was lucky because we made many trips back to England. I came over to the US in 1946 and my first visit home was 1951, then 1959,1963 and after that I was able to make so many visits, sometimes twice a year I really lost count.

There was no write up in the UK papers but there was a photograph of our wedding published in the local paper here. My family sent me the British newspapers to keep me informed of happenings at home and they still do.

My mother would come for three months at a time. Dad came and my brothers and sisters all made visits here as well as nieces, nephews, uncles and aunts. My elder brother worked for British Airways and would just pop in for a weekend.

I have felt guilty again with regards to family. My in-laws here in the US were not close knit and so my children really had no aunts and uncles whereas if they were in England it would have been so different. Now my mother, father a brother and two sisters have passed away. I do regret the time I could have spent with them.

My husband died in October 1974 from a brain tumour. I was quite lost without him for a long time. So thankful for my children. As my mother was still living and getting on in years I spent six months with her in England and six months here. My mother passed away in 1981. I had met an Englishman through my sister and brother-in law. He was a bachelor. I really was not interested in marrying again and especially a bachelor eleven years younger than I was. Over the years he came here for holidays. He met my children and in 1989 we were married in the little church just up the road. It has worked out very well.

I can really say my first husband and I had a very good marriage. He was a very nice, quiet person. All I would change is to have stayed in England. We were always a close-knit family. Now of course my parents have died, also sisters and a brother and I do think of the time I missed being so far from them. Was I brave or foolish? I have never figured that out.

Do I feel American? Yes, I guess I do but still a part of me is British.