Objects in the mirror are closer
I have an important role in my extended family. Self-appointed, perhaps, but still important. I am the first born. Oldest of all the descendents, on one limb of my tree. My job is to prepare the story for the others. Again, they don’t know it yet.
Much of my family came here (HERE) roughly two centuries ago. I’m trying to present our story to the younger one. Fill in the answers to questions they may not have asked. We came to this island from other islands, across the ocean. If you got on a boat, with enough supplies and a trusty sail, you ended up here. Wrecked, sometimes. I can show you the beaches, and the bogs. The fields where our eventual homes were constructed. All gone, now, because we built them for warmth, not to create a lasting legacy.
And with the content available on the web, I can show you where we came from. Let you hear the accents, and the songs. Take you to church if you wish; there you can compare the faces of the originals to the eventuals. Not many striking differences; once you start to age, the faces blend. I think it’s important for my siblings and my children to realize that. And language; one important setction spoke Scottish Gaelic. My grandmother would be able to slip into a pew and pick up her place in the service. That is what separates family history from a simple census. We can imagine how our ancestors lived. The foods. The furniture. No rich people in my history. People that sailed, on purpose, to try and improve their lives. Fishing and farming, once the necessary trees had been harvested.
I’ll contiune this tale, at a later time. So far, I’ve shown my yougnest sibling a bit of the root stock. Placed our current geography in context. A good start to our journey. At my age, I’m less apt to travel and more apt to convince others to do it in my stead.
