(Today, you get some fresh, and some thoughts.)

This week I had two interesting occurrence.  One good anyway.  The other not so good, but I am going to talk about them both today.

As many know, I have been reviewing my family heritage.  This was once a interest of mine in those long ago days before the Internet.  I was aware, but not aware of just how much there was too it.  Even now, I am sure there remains much to discover about it.  One - it goes far, far further back in time then I had have allowed myself permission to think.  Consider, the earliest date of direct connection that I have a unbroken line is about 1150.  This is certainly amazing.  I knew of the importance of some of my forebears, but only here in America.  It seems that a number of these lines go very far back into the history.

The real real of this all is not that I can trace a heritage back nearly thousand years.  That is nice, and very rare.  And to be sure, most of my heritage goes run out only a few hundred years ago - like with most.  The thing is - from my earliest years, I was around a family that get talk about its heritage, and also about the lives that had been lived.  Growing up, I hear about the family's history.  Where they had lived, and when they moved from place to place in the centuries of the family's experience.  I heard most of these stories from a grandmother in her declining years.  She had become bedridden.  Nearly blind, and I was able to keep her company, tend to her needs to get other family members a break from the duties necessary.  I know now she had only part of the story.  This recent renewed interest has been mind altering.  The depth of material is incredible.  The sheer level of material available is vast, and yet I understand much better now myself.  And not just because being a relative of this or that person of a such a long peerage.  I know now that the reason why I am as interested in the many things that I am.  It really was hearing this personal, family heritage that began me reading.

It still seems odd to discuss this all, and to be honest - I focus only on one side of my family.  There are good reasons that I do.  I would never lie, but my own parents marriage had been a mistake for them.  But - I happened nine months after the wedding day.  Truly - a opps moment.  And this too as a confession.  My own relationship with my father was always a problem that never had a solution, but end it.  As I do when 25 by leaving him behind, and by dropping his name.  Why not?  The von had disappeared, and so why not lose the rest.  And I did by taking a name from my mother's line that had gone extinct.  And - far enough in the past.  Besides, among all this considerable New England stock, only the Murray line had had enough - what - force of character to have left oral memories.  Few others in this branch ever left as much to go against the oral tradition (and memories) of my grandmother's maiden name Stanton (and the rest of those Nantucket whalers).  Grand people that they were, and never forgotten.  And yet, what came to be said of a people came from being Knights to becoming Quaker?  They certainly were not the simple plain of the usually crosses people's minds when the word Quaker is used.  That - belongs on the oat box.  My father never understood it.  To marry a woman of Nantucket is to marry a woman of a certain (and different) condition, and will never be a simple Hausfau. 

But - I ramble.  It is difficult to process all of this.  I cannot even form a mental picture of this family tree.  It's length is too vast, and its branches too wide to focus on mentally.  It becomes even more impossible when one adds the cultural baggage.  And there was a considerable amount of baggage that came with the stories being told to me by my grandmother - and other members of the family.  Books back to the 1760's, and photographs from the start of photography.  Land grant documents, and objects of furniture, and other things of domestic use.  Tools.  But most of all - stores.  Stories of the changing modes of transportation.  Ships, wagons, trains, interurbans and the rise of automobiles. Events of history as told from a first hand basis - like this book on the 1933 World's Fair in Chicago.

One of the few joys in this Land o' Lincoln that I have is wandering the stacks of a library, just looking for interesting titles.  This stand out to me, and like only a reader can understand - told me to check it out.  Clearly I did , as I don't go to the library naked.  (You dirty reader you!) :) 

But leaving, it occurred to me - I had been told as a child about this.  I have many tales told me of those years.  This maybe a reason why this period of time is such a favorite period of world history for me.  If so, the stories did begin it.  I can say that now.  I can further say that all this does work in the background with nearly everything in me.  Such was the situation of my upbringing.

Not doubt that this needs considerable re-writing.  I cannot find a focal point yet to have of this.  The one thing I can say is these thoughts had lay dormant for many years until recently, and I am very certain that is because of being here.  One, I have been too long.  It wasn't to be this long.  But, there again - 'we' were not to be here as long.  I am only here because I said yes to someone.  I would have never moved here on my own.  Not a single good reason to have done it if I had considered it for its own reason.  I made the best of it that I could, but plainly - nothing worth the bother.

It is the reason, the heritage is returning.  The memories stir as counter-balance to the area.  You see, here - if you are not from here - you are a stranger, and stranger you shall remain.  It doesn't matter what you do or don't do.  This has been my experience, and the experience of every other person that I have met who was also from elsewhere.  And frankly - the area's history with New Englanders is not good.  You can learn that one on displace at New Salem.  (I have done all Lincoln sites.)  There - a single sign stating the historical distance between New Englanders and the rest that formed this area's settlement.  I never felt so - New England - as here.  And that touches on the other event of this week.  A sad one, but meaningful for me.

Perhaps, I see too much.  But I had occurrence with someone who should know better, but an occurrence nevertheless that gave me the first genuine feeling of disgust.  Now you have little to be concerned about with me, and anger.  It will burn quick enough, and life will go on.  However, disgust is a terror.  Once set - it never leaves.  It never did with my father.  And I have considered telling the reason for this.  Sometime I might, and some of the events that formed the basis of our relationship - such as what existed. A hint - I was glad (emotionally) when he died.  At least - there was some emotion, because there never was any sense of love for him.   The concern is over the disgust that occurred this week.  What was said was poorly expressed, and clearly wrong for both time as well as place.  But - I have come to know that it makes no difference to say anything back.  However, this is a terrible turn of events, 

I will not be a happy alumni, for I think this feeling is going to 'set'.

You know - this is not what I planned to write.  It is rather badly written, but I am going to let it stand as is.  Consider it - rough and raw.

Now - how about a photo or two?  I am becoming much more interested in that than I am being a good - whatever - here.  :>





Tales from Land 0' Lincoln.  'Til next time.  xxx