|My family in 1913|
I blame my mother. She won't take the blame for my poor math scores, but she should. From childhood, I ate at antique dining tables, used antique lanterns to light my way, put hair bands in blue Mason jars, wrapped up in 100 yr old quilts to watch Little House on the Prairie, and ate mincemeat pie at Thanksgiving.
Ancestry is rich--heritage is priceless. I was immersed in it from a young age and as photographs begin to surface, I could almost hear their ghosts talking.
I found out my Great-Aunt Avenelle (Avenelle? There's a name for you!) married my Great Uncle George when he was fifty and she was thirty-two. He was a confirmed bachelor -- who got unconfirmed. She had the aggressiveness of a German suffragette. Avenelle taught George how to drive a Model T when he was fifty-three and finally summoned the courage.
|My drop dead handsome grampa on the bottom|
SO, can you blame me for having a C+ in math? Really? This was only the tip of the family history mountain of stories. Rich, intriguing, captivating, and most of all REAL. We love to read historical fiction for the sentiment of its era, and yet, our histories are smothered with stories of struggle, romance, adventure, and humor.
Have you read your family historicals, lately?