Please do not forget to become a follower so you don't miss a thing! Thank you.

Friday, September 7, 2012

The following tells exactly how I am feeling on this journey of discovering my family history.  I am very grateful to my sister Angi who as taken me to many county courthouses & cemeteries, I actually think she enjoys graveyard hunting with me although she would never admit it.  It is such a pleasure listening to my Aunt Sandy talking about the family and helping me identifying old pictures.  I do feel the pride in following my great grandfather from Italy to the land of opportunity.  I feel the pain of the deaths, especially those of children.   I have met relatives that I otherwise would not have had the pleasure of meeting.  Through I have exchanged information and pictures with cousins I have never met.  One cousin I did not even know about contacted me through an message board.  I know we would have never met as we live on both coasts.  Who is the keeper of your family tree?  Who will it be in the next generation?
"The Chosen" 
By Pam Shenefield Long in
We are the chosen. In each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again. To tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve. Doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before.
We are the story tellers of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called, as it were, by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: Tell our story. So, we do. In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the ancestors, "You have a wonderful family; you would be proud of us.". How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me? I cannot say. It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who I am, and why I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying - I can't let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it.
It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that the fathers fought and some died to make and keep us a nation. It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us.
It is of equal pride and love that our mothers struggled to give us birth, without them we could not exist, and so we love each one, as far back as we can reach. That we might be born who we are. That we might remember them. So we do. With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are they and they are the sum of who we are.
So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take my place in the long line of family storytellers. That is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those young and old to step up and restore the memory or greet those who we had never
known before.

No comments:

Post a Comment