The Free Spirit

The Traveller's Plight; 1978 (Part One)

January of 1978 started out with a letter being sent to my home reading something like this.

Dear Dr. Catherine Everly,

My name is Peter Mercer and I am the president of the International Romani Union, which shall officially be declared in April at the Second World Romani Congress. It is from our understanding that you are of Romani descent and given your famous background, we would like for you to appear at the meeting to discuss the importance of recognition and inclusion for the Romani people across the world. You may write back to me at the address listed on this envelope or you may call me at the number below. We need you to respond no later than the first of February.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Signed,
Peter Mercer
President of IRU

I was a little surprised, to say the least. I hadn't known that overseas, people had been coming together to bring attention to the discrimination that my people had been facing for many years. Had my mother been alive, I am certain I would have heard of it, as Mum was always staying up to date with how civil rights for the Romani people were being handled across the world. However, when she died, with her went my last link to the continent, and given the fact that I was a mother of three by 1965 and had a full career, I became too caught up with all of that to really pay Europe much heed. In truth, I sometimes forgot that I was of Romani descent, as I never celebrated Romani heritage and culture after Mum died. My father didn't know much of it, and my brothers knew even less. The only one alive in the Cromwell family that had any recollection of the Romani culture that was a part of our family was me, and I had been too young to truly know it.

"Do ya wanna go over there and talk to 'em?" Don asked me, and I shrugged gently.

"I dunno... I was too young to really understand and know the culture that I came from," I told him.

"But ya know what your people went through, and ya know what you personally went through. Maybe ya know it better than ya think ya do," Don replied, and I let out a sigh.

"I always want to forget the Holocaust and what it did to me and my family... I've forgotten the important parts, like my brother and my aunt and my grandmothers... I don't know what my life was like before the war, but I know the discrimination that I faced afterwards. I know the discrimination that I still face to this day, and that Stacey, even, still faces," I said. "Perhaps I could give a short speech..."

"Do it for Stacey, and do it for other kids like her who'll have to deal with it as well," Don told me. And so, my mind was set. I responded within a couple of days and agreed to give a short speech. The conference would be held in Geneva, Switzerland. I'd never been to Switzerland before, so it could be a rather interesting experience. I had some time to prepare and write a speech on a series of notecards, where I would mention the hardships of the Romani peoples as well as my own personal experiences.

Don's forty-first birthday came on the first of February and I realised that I had been so distracted by this conference that I had forgotten to call Phil on his thirty-ninth. "He's never called on yours or mine either, so screw him," Don reasoned, but I still felt bad. For Don's birthday, we went to see Saturday Night Fever, which was still in the cinema, and went out to dinner together. It was a bit mundane, but still enjoyable nonetheless.

February was relatively uneventful. I worked, Don did some touring, the kids went to school. Stacey was involved in theatre again and Maggie was up to her usual antics. Marley actually surprised us by getting in trouble at school for accidentally releasing her beetles at Show and Tell, but Don and I both knew that it was an accident and we laughed about it when we got home. We did tell her not to bring her beetles to school again, however.