My husband has come down with a germ and it’s a pretty bad case. Thank goodness it’s not the Swine Flu, but in some ways it may be worse because there is no end in sight. Sometime during the past month he was bitten by the Genealogy Bug. My sister caught it first and it is spreading to the entire family. My in-laws are already showing serious symptoms.
It’s amazing how dates, names and places can grab the imagination and become so … alive. Our interest in the past is only enhanced each time we venture out on a limb of the family tree, view an old tin type or unearth a birth/death record. We get positively giddy when we dig a rattling skeleton out of some dusty closet, but the truth is, just about any bit of information is cause for celebration. That’s probably because those old facts reflect a larger Truth than our limited existence affords. We want to see how much we resemble our forebears. We want to discover what their lives were like. We want to know them because, after all, they are family.
One of my husband’s great-great grandfathers was a Portuguese whaler who came to California during the Gold Rush. He and his family eventually settled in Indian Gulch, where he died and was buried in 1908. His grave is still there and I recently watched my husband place his hand on the old headstone. It was an act that confirmed the miracle of our existence. Great-great-grandfather’s genes may lie beneath the soil, but they are still living in the flesh that touched his marker.
I think the “hook” to genealogy is not only finding our ancestors, which validates who we are, it also puts things into a perspective we would otherwise overlook. A family tree gives us a perch from which we can view the passage of time. The perspective may make us feel smaller, but we are not diminished. In fact, knowing about our forebears gives us a meaningful “place.”
In thinking about all of these family ties, I can’t help but recall some of the delinquents I used to work with. I didn’t give it a thought so many years ago, but a large percentage of them had no such sense of place. They didn’t think in terms of being one of a long line of “Smiths,” or “Browns.” Instead, they seemed to view themselves more as flotsam and jetsam. They were rarely anchored to a proud family history and were spinning in a small universe with little meaning. I know I’m really oversimplifying here because it’s only one piece of a huge puzzle, but perhaps, had they been given a meaningful past, they might have believed in, and invested more in their futures.
How thoroughly awesome to find you here! When the roots run deep, the flowers come back persistently in more and unexpected places. Just what I needed to hear before summer’s done, too — thanks for “sticking.”
Your column in the Merced Sun-Star was one of the few articles I found interesting. I’m sorry it’s no longer there, but happy to find your website. I’ll be back often.
Interesting perspective but can’t get into the genealogy thing. Keep the columns coming because they are one of my highlights of the week.
I have been bitten by the classic car bug. I have two and they really keep me busy. Always something to do, that usually involves money, lot’s of it. I enjoy going to car shows and meeting a lot of nice people. Chowchilla has one coming in August at the fairgrounds. Hope to see some classmates.