Vol. 2: What’s in a name?

Mackreth is a family name. Pronounced MACK-reth.

That’s the easy answer.

The longer answer is this…

My grandfather, from the time he was a little boy, grew up going to a farm right outside of Charlottesville in Ivy, Virginia. He was the youngest child by more than a decade. He followed the older boys around from sun-up to sun-down helping them with their chores. He had “chores” of his own, but they paled in comparison to the ones the older three had.

My grandfather would tell my cousins and me stories of the summers he spent on the farm and the lessons he learned just by watching Roy, Claude, and Arthur Mackreth – clearing the table scraps and taking them to the pigs, feeding the horses, chopping wood, watching Claude edit articles and books in the Drawing Room. The stories were mostly enjoyable not because of the characters of Roy, Claude, and Arthur, but because it was funny to think about my wise, well-read, brave, and oh so strong grandfather as a little boy. It was just hard to picture.

Time passed.

When Roy, who had no children, died, he left the property in Ivy, Virginia to my grandfather. As a result, the same farm where my grandfather spent his summers became the farm where I spent my childhood summers – Camp Shiloh Hill (a cousin camp hosted by the grandparents), trips to the nearby presidential homes, playing in the rain without a care in the world, building forts, climbing trees, and watching the sunset from The Hill.

I will never know Roy Mackreth. But I can never forget the memories he made possible. The moments that are tattooed on my brain that range from childhood to adulthood – being the “responsible” grandchild that holds the hammer, “hiking” the west field, and walks to the creek.

The Mackreth is more than a family name. It is a feeling. It is a frozen moment. It is the freedom to explore, create, and discover. It is the joyful milestones of a life lived to the fullest.

The Mackreth is my family legacy and a grand adventure.