Fascinated by the anecdotes
Spent the afternoon at the fire hall. No emergencies were handled; this was the only common room space available for our monthly book-in-progress club. It takes a community to properly draft a local history, and I’m fascinated by the anecdotes that come out. Triggered by a name or a relationship, folks remember things they heard “back when” that would never bubble to the surface if a simple request for stories was made.
For me, I learned that I still have a lot of ground to cover, on my own family tree. Names that I considered as “researched” lead to whole other families. Now to mine the available datasets, in an attempt to figure out which of the John or Angus or Daniel or Joseph is related, and which is simply a neighbour from the last century. Going to be a busy winter.
It also rained, this afternoon. That’s big news for an area in drought. The fields need the water; in particular, the potatoes which will absorb every drop offered. No runoff worries, in dry, sandy soils. I didn’t mind getting caught out by a sudden shower. The price to pay.
As the day finishes up, I’m keenly aware that one of my siblings has arrived. How long until the doorbell rings? I’m separated by “years and miles”; a chance to touch base comes but once a year, outside of social media. I’m not enough of a spontaneous traveler to hop a plane and go the other way. Summer or winter. Call it airport phobia and move on to other subjects of common interest.
