Following the threads
I need to know who I am. In large part because we have a rule. Around here you must be willing to identify your father. Let me explain. This is a small community it always has been. In fact back at the turn of the last century we had not yet reached 100,000 people. If you went out looking for a spouse there was a good chance that you were going to come across people related to you by blood. And by religion but the blood was more important. The rule goes way back. In fact I’m sure that when my grandparents met in Boston back before the depression they asked each other two questions. Where are you from and then who’s your father. I have the privilege of being able to tell someone else who were my parents and how they met. And who were my two sets of grandparents and how they met per. Angelo I have little fact to basically to back it up I can probably tell you other generations. In keeping with that I was one of the first in my line to find a spouse from outside of the province. My children are following in the same rule line. After all if you don’t you tend to find other problems. In keeping with that I can easily imagine although I have little fact to back it up what what it was like for my grandparents and my great grandparents to go out socially. The music tended to be found in the kitchen and the people around the kitchen table were probably people that you already knew. Someone coming in from outside would be welcomed but we would be what’s the word suspicious. I think back to my grandparents in Boston managing to find someone from home tamari and then heading back home as quickly as they could to start raising their families. My parents did something similar. They knew each other from school and when my father moved to a newer community he found my mother I assume within days. Something about going across the road to get tea. I can only guess because it is now too late to ask pointed questions. So for the rest of you ask those questions while you can because you are on a timer. And once the timer goes Ding you’re back to making up your stories.
