Think of it this way, a genealogy is like your family tree; it has roots, a trunk and branches. It’s useful and there is beauty in the structure, but it doesn’t tell the whole story. A personal history, on the other hand, is like putting leaves and maybe even fruit (or nuts?) on the family tree. It’s the stories behind the framework of who begat who and who married who, usually in the reverse order.
Baker, Butcher, Candlestick Maker?
We all have family stories and legends about the folks who came to America and why. Some of you were here first and had to watch all the neighbors moving in. Some came for opportunity. Others came because opportunity had run out where they were. Some were on the wrong side of a political uprising. Pirates, tinkers, farmers, teachers, wheelwrights and preachers, as well as everyone in between. Who’s hanging out in your back-story?
All these ancestral immigrants shared a common humanity and a desire for a better life. Sometimes it was the choice between death where they were and life in a new country. Think about all the fascinating stories you can dig up behind those old black and white photos or the tales Grandma used to tell. Dig a little deeper, ask some questions and take some notes. Can you imagine your grandkids not knowing what Great Uncle Mike or Abuelo Jose did working in the fields or mines to create a new life out of sheer grit and determination? They need to know. Period.
You might be surprised; those kiddos may just put down the IPod to hear the story. Make them hungry for their history!
In her blog, Quiet Revolution, Susan Cain shares an amazing story about family and provides some wonderful guidance for telling your own history. Read it at: http://www.quietrev.com/how-to-tell-your-own-life-story/
Take a step in the direction of growing some of those leaves on that family tree and discover the fascinating history behind your genealogy. Contact me to get started, I would love to hear your story.
I like rust. No, really, show me a nice shiny new something and an old rusty something and I’ll pick up the rusty one, gravitating to it even though it screams “tetanus shot!” Old rusty whatmacallits have a story to tell, a history all their own. Probably several. Who owned it, who invented it? What is it for? How many hands have held it, used it, where has it traveled?
My dear friend Maureen in Hawaii reminds me of the importance of “Talking Story.” This is a cultural thing not just in that lovely state but other places too. In fact, it is one of the things that makes us uniquely human. You can hear it visiting with farmers here in New Mexico, standing together, watching the irrigation water flow into the onion field and hearing the story of how their family came to this country four generations ago. You can see it in the eyes of the Native American man standing in his cool, shadowed room at the Taos Pueblo as he speaks of horse training and how the hot springs ease the aches and pains afterwards.