Sharing from the community history
History is meant to be shared. Especially family history. What could be sadder than a rooomful of documents, hidden from the eoeys of everyone else? Including, I imagine, those concerned by reason of consanguinity.
As a consequence, I sometimes do share with others. Either virtually, or (like today), across the kitchen table. Our tools are more modern, but the rationale is identical. I brought a spare monitor up from the basement, put my laptop into share video and then sat with a stranger, as we tried to make sense out of a bird’s nest of names and dates. All of it new to me; I was doing this for the greater good, but I was reassured to find that my few days of research had ended up as coherent. We could find the people, in their respective pigeonholes. No great discoveries (the dream of anyone trying to unravel the past), but a confirmation that the logic of the “family tree” was sound. Scientific, given that we had proven things tracked by others. In the same way that a jigsaw puzzle is satisfying, as all the pieces come together to present an image. And, in keeping with the jigsaw analogy, there’s still work to be done.
But, I’ll go to bed tonight with a self-satisfaction. I helped someone else while reaffirming my methodology.
And with that, a pause to eat. My pork chops are crispy, like bacon. I have mustard ready, and the dishes will be done before much longer. The quiet life. And the dog has found a new distraction (a fox), so he’s off in the darkness to decode the odours.
