Dad with his dog Tony
Going through my old family photographs I came across these of my Dad. They were taken in the 1920s. His name was Stanley Douglas Haig Goodall. Dad always told me our name - Goodall - is a derivation of the name "good ale" - and that way back our family were brewers. That gave me pause to investigate a little further.
I found three things:
a) habitational name from Gowdall in East Yorkshire, named from Old English, golde 'marigold' + Old English halh 'nook', 'recess'.
b) from Middle English gode 'good' + ale 'ale', 'malt liquor', hence a metonymic occupational name for a brewer or an innkeeper.
c) Goodall, a fine hall or mansion; or good-ale.
Dad used to enjoy a pint down at the pub and well, I find as I get older that I enjoy the occasional cold beer on a very hot day. There, my secret is out and I'll go with Dad's explanation that back in the middle ages we must have been in the brewery business. "Bottom's Up!"
I remember many years ago when we were living in San Diego, my dear Mom and Dad came over with an Aunt and Uncle whom I also adored. I had been married for a while, and had been to many navy parties and had to throw my fair share as well, both when Gregg was home and when he was away at sea. The wives used to have get-togethers pretty regularly. I hasten to add that whether the ship was home or away, we never had wild parties by any means - always fun but not wild - but I had become quite good at making Strawberry Daiquiri's, which was a popular drink at the time. My Mom was a tee-totaller but my Aunty was curious when I asked her if she would like me to make one for her to try. I only had a recipe for 'a crowd' and decided in my infinite wisdom that it was too much trouble to figure out individual portions and that it was a much better idea to make a big batch anyhow, with the idea that we could have the occasional Daiquiri over the six weeks that they were staying with us, and it would remain frozen until needed.
My Dad walked in as I was pouring a whole bottle of rum into one of my mixing bowls and I still remember the startled look on his face as he asked me what was I doing? As I explained he slowly shook his head. When I showed him the recipe he didn't say anything but he shook his head. When I poured my Aunty and I a glass and popped the strawberry on top along with the sprig of mint just as I had seen it in the picture, he shook his head. When she and I sat in the back garden and sipped on our Daquiri, he shook his head. I was too happy with the look of it as I gave it to Aunty to truly understand, and I was trying to show my family how grown up I was, a married lady who gave parties and could make a fancy drink, and basically take care of herself when her husband went away to sea for six to eight months at a time. But Dad had sheltered my sister and me all his life and this was too much. His little girl was drinking hard core rum, no matter that it had a whole bunch of other things in it to dilute the taste of the alchohol. To him I might as well have been drinking out of the neck of the bottle. His little girl was on a downhill slide, and he shook his head.
Dad, you needn't have worried. I haven't had a Strawberry Daiquiri since. We won't tell him that Gregg and I enjoy the occasional beer but I think he probably knows and is no doubt looking down shaking his head. I love you Dad!
And I absolutely love this photo. My Dad is the young lad standing on the left. Six young rascals who are obviously having a good time. On the right I think that other lad is using a sling shot. You can see something that looks like one in his hand. And oh my gosh that young boy is drinking out of the neck of a bottle. I'm guessing it is only soda pop.
Dad used to be in the Boys' Brigade and these last three photos he is in his uniform. In the above photo he is standing in front of the fifth boy from the left at the back.
He is on the right in this photo.