Why I'm Interested in
Genealogy
| When I was a little
girl, I used to sit at my father's feet at family gatherings held captive by
the stories that he and his siblings told about growing up in Alabama. There were
the usual tall tales about how this one got the scar over his left eye climbing a 40 foot
high barbed wire fence on Old Man Smith's property or how another one was hit by lightning
on the hundred mile walk home from school and survived with only an occasional ringing in
the ears to show for it. It didn't matter that over the years I heard the stories a
thousand times. I always wanted to hear them again. They were both familiar
and fresh and time and time again I'd sit and listen, absolutely mesmerized. |
Robert Norris
|
Many of the tales
revolved around their father, Robert Norris, a curmudgeonly man (by their telling)
that most of them really didn't know much about. No one knew who his mother was, for
instance, and while there was plenty of talk about who his father might be it amounted to
little more than speculation. But that didn't stop them from telling stories.
In the absence of facts, they embellished what little they knew or just flat out
made things up and with each retelling of this detail or that one, the man of their
invention was etched deeper and deeper into their collective memory. |
| I never knew my
grandfather. He died long before I was born but I always felt a
connection to him through his children and other kin. By the time I reached young
adulthood, I was recounting the stories about him myself and slowly realized that I'd
become a dedicated keeper of his mythology. But I wasn't satisfied with what I'd
been told. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know who he really was, where he
came from, who his folks were. He was a mystery to me and, in some way, the mystery
of my grandfather represented a missing part of myself. I wanted to be whole and
that's why I became interested in genealogy. |
| My research
eventually extended to my mother's family and I found it as much an
unknown as my father's. My mother's father was from Jamaica, WI, and her mother,
according to Mom's birth certificate, was from Banes Oriente, Cuba. However, her
"official" birth certificate (which doesn't name her), says that she was
born in Spanish Town, Jamaica. Cousins are unsure. To complicate things her brother,
Wallace Morales, was Cuban and she did speak Spanish. I'm still trying to sort
things out. |
Gladys Donald
|
Genealogy is more
than a hobby. Anyone who's been bitten by the bug knows that. It's more
like a nagging preoccupation and has been mine more or less continuously for over a
quarter century. I wish I could say that after all this time I know more today than
I did when I started but I still don't know that much. Over the years I've debunked
some myths, added lots of newer branches to the family tree and pruned a few old ones --
things like that. But I haven't filled in the tremendous gaps in the foliage that
have existed as long as I can remember, nor have I added many lower branches and no more
roots.
So
the quest
continues . . .
to discover
the ancestors
who are linked
to my grands,
and
through
them
to my
parents,
and,
ultimately,
to myself.
|
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November 1, 1998
Copyright © 1998 by B.J. Smothers. All rights
reserved.
http://www.prairiebluff.com/roots/why.htm
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