{"id":7803,"date":"2021-03-06T12:25:51","date_gmt":"2021-03-06T17:25:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=7803"},"modified":"2021-03-06T12:29:33","modified_gmt":"2021-03-06T17:29:33","slug":"episode-271-the-golden-brooch-and-edward-and-louisa-freeman","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=7803","title":{"rendered":"EPISODE 271 THE GOLDEN BROOCH and EDWARD and LOUISA FREEMAN"},"content":{"rendered":"
NOTE TO READERS:  THIS STORY GOT AWAY FROM ME\u2026TOO MUCH FOR MANY OF YOU<\/p>\n
TO READ.  WHY CARE ABOUT THE FREEMAN  FAMILY?    WELL, THERE ARE POINTS IN THE<\/div>\n
STORY WHERE HUMAN FOIBLES ENTER\u2026AND  HUMAN CREATIVITY\u2026START WITH THE GOLD<\/div>\n
BROOCH.  I WANTED THIS STORY TO BE PART OF MY EPISODES AS A  RECORD.  YOU DO NOT<\/div>\n
NEED TO READ IT.  SOME WILL BE OFFENDED.  HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT, ALAN?<\/div>\n
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\n

EPISODE 272     THE GOLD BROOCH

alan skeoch
March 2021

<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n
<\/div>\n

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<\/p>\n

\n
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I found the golden brooch in a box of little things that Grandma had placed
in the back kitchen pantry at the farm.  Looked  like gold.  That is probably why I
asked mom \u201cIs this valuable?\u201d

\u201cWhere did you find it?   I thought it was lost long ago.\u201d
\u201cIt was in a little box with string, buttons, newspaper clippings\u2026in the pantry\u201d
\u201cMother must have saved it\u2026she saved bits and pieces  of just about everything.\u201d
\u201cIs it gold?\u201d
\u201cNo.  Dad made it from the scrap brass filings from artillery shells in World War I.
He had a job in Toronto at a munitions plant.  Made the brooch for me when I was
12 or 13.  I thought it had been lost long ago.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

<\/div>\n

THE GOLDEN BROOCH<\/p><\/div>\n


<\/div>\n
Sometimes the tiniest of things show the way back into deepest of times.  Like a mammoth tooth<\/div>\n
leads the mind back to a time when they wandered  freely across an often ice clad Northern Canada.<\/div>\n
 And there are the fossils in Port Credit shale that lead the mind back to a time when much of North America<\/div>\n
was covered by a great shallow sea where aquatic life thrived.   In short, from small things  greater things are recalled\u2026or discovered.  So  it is with<\/div>\n
the Gold Brooch.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
It is made of brass, not gold.  It is worthless, I suppose, but it triggered an avalanche of  family history.<\/div>\n
Why should the Freeman  family history be of even remove interest to readers  of these episodes?<\/div>\n
Interest is captured when unpleasant things happen.  That\u2019s just the way we are.   Good times,<\/div>\n
financial success, awards, glory…attract minimal interest.  If I titled this story \u201cWhy my grandfather<\/div>\n
was a great man,\u201d only a few readers would give a sweet damn.  If, however, I titled this episode<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat my grandfather never told me,\u201d the interest level would increase.  Better still, \u201cThe truth,<\/div>\n
the truth, you cannot handle the truth, Alan\u201d  That would bring readers in flocks.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Edward Freeman was born on May 3, 1871.  He was  84 years old when I really got to know him<\/div>\n
in 1955.  Even then i never knew him well.  We liked each other. That much I do know.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Edward Freeman, my grandfather never spoke much about the past.  Even his best years\u2026 those 6 year as head<\/div>\n
gardener of the Eywood  Estate in Herefordshire from 1899 to 1905 were hardly mentioned. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
 It was mom that told me<\/div>\n
about the time Lord  Byron visited Eywood and got sexually involved the lady of the estate while her husband<\/div>\n
went for a stroll around and around the little lake.  Was this real or imagined?  Horny enough to be true.<\/div>\n
Documented as true.  When the estate was auctioned in 1954, the Lord Byron incident was printed along <\/div>\n
with the furniture, buildings, land parcels.  Weird.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Edward  Freeman kept some things to himself.  For instance he<\/div>\n
 never said how much he despised his father John Freeman.<\/div>\n
How do I know that?  By chance.  Somehow a letter he sent from Canada to his brothers and sister back<\/div>\n
in Lyonshall, Herefordshire came back return mail and was laced  in the farm pantry along with the gold<\/div>\n
brooch.  He hated his father because John Freeman mistreated his mother.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
There were<\/div>\n
ten children in the Freeman family which  must have placed heavy responsibilities on the<\/div>\n
parents who for a few years tried to farm just outside the village.  Not with any success<\/div>\n
it seems since the family moved into a village house that has now become The Royal George,<\/div>\n
a  pub.  John Freeman  became an alcoholic.  No record of physical abuse of his wife, but something<\/div>\n
triggered granddad\u2019s hatred.   At some point John Freeman tried to kill himself by cutting how own<\/div>\n
throat.  MY Mom (Elsie Freeman) mentioned that several times\u2026the attempted suicide.  I have no<\/div>\n
idea why.  Perhaps self loathing. How is it possible to clothe, feed and raise ten children with<\/div>\n
very little income.  Enough to drive a person mad.  Granddad persuaded his brothers Chris and Cliff<\/div>\n
to come to Canada along with his sister Anna.  Anything to get them away from his father.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
When granddad was appointed head gardener at the Eywood Estate he grew a beard to<\/div>\n
make him look older.  A head gardener was a position of high regard in country estate homes<\/div>\n
all over England.  Huge estates.  Eywood  had 1500 acres.  Being head gardener was near the pinnacle of the \u2018inservice\u2019 hierarchy .  And  granddad knew it<\/div>\n
but there was also a malaise that he felt although he rarely expressed that to me except for<\/div>\n
the one comment about tipping his hat. (see Capability Brown\u2026garden designs)<\/div>\n

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\"Detailblog.english-heritage.org.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/12\/780-header-cb1-440×169.jpg<\/a> 440w, blog.english-heritage.org.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/12\/780-header-cb1-768×295.jpg<\/a> 768w” sizes=”(max-width: 780px) 100vw, 780px” style=”border: 0px; margin: 23.390625px auto 0px; max-width: 100%; display: block;” apple-inline=”yes” id=”6E0A6F9B-D542-4D35-8A49-E7D811D63C98″ src=”https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/780-header-cb1.jpg”><\/p>\n
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If you were anyone in Georgian society, your garden would have been designed by Lancelot \u2018Capability\u2019 Brown. Wealthy lords and ladies, and even the royals, commissioned Brown to landscape their vast estates, which revealed much about their status and style. Moving from formal to functional with sweeping lawns and key focal features, Brown revolutionised gardening in England.<\/em><\/p>\n

This year England celebrated 300 years since Brown\u2019s birth. You can read more about his life here<\/a>. But first, we caught up with Landscape Adviser Emily Parker to explore who he was and why he became the go-to for English landscaping.<\/p>\n

WHERE DID THE NAME \u2018CAPABILITY\u2019 COME FROM?<\/font><\/h3>\n

Nobody knows for sure, but it\u2019s said that Brown used to turn up at country houses and say: \u2018this place has great capabilities for improvement\u2019 \u2013 and that\u2019s where he got his nickname from. I think you could safely say that he changed the whole nature of English gardening from its more formal roots to something that imitated nature. That\u2019s what we can see from Capability Brown today, particularly at Audley End House and Gardens<\/a>.<\/p>\n


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<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
My grandfather was trained as a carpenter, a skill he never lost as seen in the hand carved<\/div>\n
picture  frames that hung in our Fifth Line, Erin Township, Wellington County farm house.<\/div>\n
He gave up carpentry, however, in favour of gardening.  Worked as a gardener at Windsor<\/div>\n
Castle and then around  1899 got a \u2018position\u2019 as head gardener at the Eywood Estate, a 1500<\/div>\n
acre country estate near the tiny village of Titley in Herefordshire. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The head gardeners\u2019 cottage at Eywood where mom was born.  The largest house my grandparents ever lived in. Note Marjorie in <\/div>\n
bottom right corner.  When Eywood Estate was sold, only one building was  destroyed\u2026the grand estate mansion. All else remains<\/div>\n
the same as it was to tis day.  The Eywood gardens, two acres enclosed by high brick walls were often discussed by my grandparents<\/div>\n
who made their farm on the Fifth line a kind of mini-Eywood with high cedars enclosing the large garden. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
 Mom was born in the <\/div>\n
head  gardener\u2019s cottage on the estate.   The hand carved picture frames that hung on our<\/div>\n
farm house walls  all had photographs of  working people  on the Eywood Estate.  Not grand people.<\/div>\n
Ordinary people such  as the cook, the chauffeur, the assistant gardeners, the horse, the dog\u2026<\/div>\n
and the grandest frames held picture of mom, Elsie Freeman, and her older brother, Frank Freeman.<\/div>\n
Photographs taken by granddad  using a pin hole camera.  Unusual pictures.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The Eywood mansion sold for around $12,000 in 1954.  There was not much left inside<\/div>\n
once the wood panels, the floorboards, the ornaments, were sold.  So the place was knocked <\/div>\n
down.  I believe blasted was a term I heard but that may be imaginary.  I went there in 1960<\/div>\n
while working in Southern Ireland.  Sad to see but country homes all over England were<\/div>\n
being pulled down as few people could afford to maintain them.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The only negative comment I ever heard my grandfather utter was so inconsequential that<\/div>\n
I never understood what he meant until long after he was dead and gone.  He  liked Eywood<\/div>\n
but \u201cdisliked having to tip my hat to Mr. Gwyer whenever we met\u201d.  Now  what the hell did<\/div>\n
that mean?  It meant noting to me until years afterward  when on a Boy Scout camping trip<\/div>\n
with a very arrogant, know-it-all English boy scout called  me \u2018common\u2019 meaning I was several<\/div>\n
steps below him in the class  pyramid.  He hated me for some reason and the word \u2018common\u2019 <\/div>\n
was about the worst thing he could say. Tipping the hat was a signal of deference. \u2018You are <\/div>\n
better born than me and I know it.\u2019  Tip the hat. Some call that showing respect.  In Canada <\/div>\n
PICthe  hat tipping means nothing much, just<\/div>\n
a friendly gesture but the habit of tipping the hat comes  from a darker time. That comment<\/div>\n
was never dwelt upon in detail by granddad.  I do not remember him tipping his hat to anyone.<\/div>\n
No great scene\u2026no comment.  But an undercurrent of embarrassment whenever deference<\/div>\n
was required.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Strange really.  Of  all my relatives, and there were and  still are many, I spent most of my<\/div>\n
adolescent years with my Freeman grandparents. on the 25 acre farm the we still own.<\/div>\n
Yet all I knew about them was from fragments that meant nothing to me at the time.<\/div>\n
I wish that were not so.  I wish we had spent an hour or two together with granddad speaking<\/div>\n
and me listening but that never happened.  He was  not stand offish\u2026remote kind of man.<\/div>\n
He liked me as he did my brother Eric.  When I stole one of his cherished chisels and was caught<\/div>\n
then hid in the hay field granddad was amused.  When I had bad pin worms and needed  an enema<\/div>\n
granddad and mom levered me out from under the bed to get the dreaded enema in my ass.  Granddad<\/div>\n
was amused.  Close.  But there were things he never dwelt on long.  He was a positive person.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
PICTURE: When winter came there better be lots of firewood ready.  Now that use as fuel is gone.<\/div>\n
And when there is only one cow in the barn, a small pail will be enough for the hand milking<\/div>\n
(Granddad circa 1955)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
WAS EMIGRATION TO CANADA A TERRIBLE MISTAKE?<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Coming to Canada in 1905 may have been a terrible mistake.   A mistake made by hundreds\u2026thousands<\/div>\n
of other economic migrants looking for a better life when the 20th century began..  Fooled  by slick advertising <\/div>\n
to think Canada  was a golden land of<\/div>\n
milk and honey.  A land free from the strangle hold of class.  A land where a working class family could actually<\/div>\n
own land\u2026be given land virtually. The advertisements sent from Canada were Partly true and partly false as with most advertising.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Edward Freeman and Louisa (Bufton) Freeman, about 1955.  The barn was still standing then but empty. Look at their faces.<\/div>\n
Gentle people with soft smiles.  But tough as railway spikes.  They could get by when the going got rough.  They had each other.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
About here in the story is where my grandmother enters the picture.  Louisa Bufton\u2019s mother got knocked<\/div>\n
up by a man known as Dr. Price.  A medical doctor.  He impregnated her but did nothing else.  No help. No<\/div>\n
responsibility.  No one seems  to have cared much about Louisa.  But she lived, therefore some care<\/div>\n
must have been provided.  Otherwise she  could have died like some<\/div>\n
other children born out of wedlock.  Or placed in the \u201chome\u201d that was not a home at all.  These were<\/div>\n
Not good times for grandma\u2026childhood years. <\/div>\n
At some point Louisa was living on the streets  in Birmingham\u2026while her<\/div>\n
mother hunted perhaps for another man.  Once a man showed interest then the  presence of a reminder of<\/div>\n
illegitimacy was best swept under the rug.  Little Louisa was fast becoming a street waif.  There<\/div>\n
were thousands of such children in working class England.   Children eventually described as Home<\/div>\n
Children which  seems a contradiction in terms until the term \u2018home\u2019 is defined as an  orphanage.<\/div>\n
In other words no real home. Victorian and Edwardian England had a vast underclass.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAunt” Webb entered the story …when she heard Louisa Bufton was  a street waif.  Just exactly who<\/div>\n
Aunt Webb really was has never been clear to me.  She may have been Louisa\u2019s grandmother who knew<\/div>\n
the whole sordid affair of Dr. Price taking liberties with a female patient then refusing responsibility. That is<\/div>\n
an old story\u2026old and true.  \u201cAunt Webb rescued mother from the streets of Birmingham along with her<\/div>\n
cousin Richard, brought them to the Edwards farm in Herefordshire where they were very happy.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Then Something went wrong. Louisa left the Edwards farm.  Bit of a cloud covers that event.  There had<\/div>\n
never been a formal adoption so grandma was cut loose it seems. By then grandma and grandpa were<\/div>\n
newly married.   A long and good marriage.  Even though the times<\/div>\n
were tough.  Marbled fat on the meat was desirable… not removed as waste.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Hand carved picture frame with friend from Eywood featured.  Granddad carved<\/div>\n
these frames on winter days and nights.  Heirlooms today.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
MUSICAL<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Etched forever in my memory is the music on winer nights in Canada on the Fifth line farm. <\/div>\n
They were very musical and both sang and played instruments\u2026granddad the violin<\/div>\n
that he could make dance to the \u2018Devils Dream\u2019 and grandmother accompanied on the pump organ <\/div>\n
with Laddie their dog howling in tune while the winter winds scoured the landscape and most<\/div>\n
of the farm house.  We all huddled in the kitchen where wood smoke smelling of maple syrup clouded the room.<\/div>\n
  The only livable room in winter.  All around the<\/div>\n
room were those hand framed pictures of Eywood.  No comment from granddad that I would  call nostalgic.<\/div>\n
Canada  had not turned out to be a place of milk and honey but there was never a desire to go back<\/div>\n
to that grand estate to be \u2018in service\u2019 like the employees  of Downton Abbey.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Little wonder I loved the works of Dickens, Hardy and Steinbeck. Poverty brought out the best in people<\/div>\n
was the message.  Untrue of course.  Happy endings?  Never happened  of course. Yet..yet..yet\u2026grandma and<\/div>\n
grandpa never seemed downtrodden.  Life always seemed  good on he farm.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Regrets?  I have a few.   Granddad wondered if I was  musical<\/div>\n
\u2018because Alan you have  long fingers\u2019.    He only said that<\/div>\n
to me once. His comment startled me.  I had no time for music lessons nor inclination at the<\/div>\n
time.  Today I wish I could hammer a piano like Jerry Lee Lewis and sing like Gordon Lightfoot.<\/div>\n
 Another fragment from grandpa that I never understood until it was too late.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Eric and I about 1955 when we were in high school and spent regular week ends at the Freeman farm<\/div>\n
where we always felt welcome.  Unannounced visits encouraged. We knew we were wanted.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
THE FARM<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The greetings by the Ansons when the Freemans arrived in Canada<\/div>\n
In 1905 was a little frosty.  Perhaps because the Freeman family overstayed the welcome while grandad went west<\/div>\n
to Manitoba to see about homesteading. Louisa\u2019s mother had married and her family was stressed when <\/div>\n
the Freeman family arrived.  An illegitimate child \u2026whispered  maybe. Or  Perhaps  there was a  closer bond that later soured. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
When Granddad returned and said he found land on the prairies, grandma revolted.  \u201cNo schools, no doctors\u2026.we<\/div>\n
are not going Edward.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
 So Granddad bought<\/div>\n
a small 12 acre market gardening farm where highway 427 and Burnhamthorpe Road cross.<\/div>\n
Growing and marketing vegetables was really tough.  Became impossible so granddad found<\/div>\n
a job as a carpenter on the Temiskaming and Northern Ontario railroad. They lived in a decrepit<\/div>\n
log cabin at Krugerdorf, a German immigrant community near Englehart which is now just<\/div>\n
a sign beside the railway line\u2026nothing there anymore except for a black bear on my visit a few years ago.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
These were the years of the great fires in Northern Ontario.  Seemed the whole of the north<\/div>\n
was on fire.  \u201cI remember riding a flat car through huge fires burning on both sides of the tracks\u201d,<\/div>\n
he said once while at the same time commenting that \u201cLou managed to save the pump organ<\/div>\n
when our house in Krugerdorf caught fire and burned to the ground.\u201d  They got out with only<\/div>\n
a few family pictures and the organ.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
The Edward Freeman farm as it appeared in 1914.  Brick farm houses like this were common as were hand framed<\/div>\n
bank barns.  Not so today.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Mom and Grandma and Frank did the farming while granddad made explosives in Toronto<\/div>\n
during the war years 1914 to 1918.  Mom has the baggy clothes on the left. Grandma in centre.<\/div>\n
Friend on the right.<\/div>\n
Punch the dog in the foreground.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
September 1914.  War industries starting up centred in Toronto.  Granddad  had<\/div>\n
enough money to buy the 25 acre farm on Fifth Line, Erin Township, Wellington County.<\/div>\n
A poor farm.  Swamps, gravel soil,  boulders.  Barely an acre of sandy loam.<\/div>\n
 But enough for grandma and her kids<\/div>\n
to run while granddad  was making artillery shells in Toronto. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
That\u2019s where the Gold Brooch* came into family history.  Might be a good<\/div>\n
place to stop.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
TO BE CONTINUED<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
POST SCRIPTS BELOW<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Mom broke away from the farm in 1920 as did thousands of other young women.  The tool of escape Was the electric<\/div>\n
sewing machine.  Here is mom bottom right  with four other seamstresses working in Guelph in1920.  There is an aura of independence<\/div>\n
about them, is there not?<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Our mother\u2026Elsie Freeman.  Dad always said she was the only woman he knew who was named after a cow.  Borden\u2019s<\/div>\n
dairy in Toronto featured Elsie the cow.  Mom was a feminist but never said so.  She ran our house\u2026saved  money to help<\/div>\n
Grandma and Grandpa on their little farm.  She made us feel rich.  We never knew we were poor.  She supported  us all<\/div>\n
because she was a whiz with a sewing machine.  Dad was  a great guy. I have told many stories about him. We loved him as<\/div>\n
well but never expected support from him.  He had racetracks full of horses  to support.  Mom was a leader that could accept<\/div>\n
human failings.  Dad\u2019s  gambling<\/div>\n
was just something she had to accept.  She could love a person without the baggage of a judgmental mind. Lots of people<\/div>\n
live with troubles.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Shortly before she died, I asked  her to tell us her story.    I think both of<\/div>\n
our stories are in harmony.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
alan  skeoch<\/div>\n
March  2021<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Mom and dad on Yonge Street , Toronto in the 1930\u2019s.  Dad was considered unmarriageable<\/div>\n
by many.  Mom proved that to be  false judgment.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
This is our dad\u2026Arnold \u2018Red\u2019 Skeoch.  He has not been featured in the story because it is<\/div>\n
a story about the Freeman family. Dad was a great person to have as a father\u2026sort of a<\/div>\n
playmate really.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
By 1955 the barn was doomed.  Canadian winters were to blame not neglect.  A barn with a stream running through it<\/div>\n
could withstand freezing and melting for only about 80 years.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Mom was only a teen age kid in Krugerdorf when she met Harry Horsman.  So this was hardly a romance.  But Harry wrote to<\/div>\n
her from the trenches of Normandy until he was killed in the Somme offensive of 1916.  She kept his letters and I made a film<\/div>\n
about him in the 1970\u2019s.   That war left many young women single for the rest of their lives.  60,000 young Canadian died.   Suppose Harry<\/div>\n
had lived.  Would I be around?<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
END EPISODE 271<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
March 2021<\/div>\n

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NOTE TO READERS:  THIS STORY GOT AWAY FROM ME\u2026TOO MUCH FOR MANY OF YOU TO READ.  WHY CARE ABOUT THE FREEMAN  FAMILY?    WELL, THERE ARE POINTS IN THE STORY WHERE HUMAN FOIBLES ENTER\u2026AND  HUMAN CREATIVITY\u2026START WITH THE GOLD BROOCH.  I WANTED THIS STORY TO BE PART OF MY EPISODES AS A  RECORD.  YOU DO […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7803","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7803","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7803"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7803\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7803"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7803"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7803"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}