I’ve been bored without something on my calendar to do this past
week except for that trip to the grocery store Tuesday and that was just a made-up
excuse to get out of the house. My desktop computer is working again and you’d
think that would keep me occupied and it did for a half a day before I got caught
up. One of the things I did was I posted something on Facebook I’ve wanted to
do for a long time, a family history paper I ran across that my husband wrote
back in 5th or 6th grade. It’s written in pencil and
shows a teacher’s corrections written in red. His nieces and nephews and great-nieces
and nephews have probably seen the ancestral chart one of his brother’s made,
but Don’s homework assignment included occupations and moves ancestors made
since the first one came over from Ireland as a barrel maker. I didn’t want
that information to get lost with me and I’m guessing a few of my Facebook
contacts on his side of the family will preserve it beyond my grave.
There always seems to be one person in each generation who
takes up the genealogy gauntlet. On the
other hand, there are always the people who couldn’t care less and will throw
important family documents away. Case in point: When one of my aunts died and
her kids were cleaning out her house none of my cousins wanted the 1800’s immigration
paper, Italian Army discharge papers, naturalization paper, coal miner’s license
and other documents that all belonged to
my grandfather so they asked my dad if he wanted them. We went right over to
pick them up, plus we got a small wicker suitcase that my grandfather carried
all his earthly possessions in when he came to America. What a gold mine for genealogy research and I had
the Italian papers translated. Fast forward twenty years, I created a blog to post
those papers and the research that followed. I’ve since gotten messages from people
searching the same family tree (my grandfather’s brothers came over in the same
time frame) and I got one message from a grandchild of one of the very cousins
who didn’t want those papers. She had stumbled upon my blog while looking for
her roots. We were both shocked to learn of our close connection. I love that
story.
All week long I’ve been stalking the school bus, looking to
catch a pair of teenaged sisters that live down the street and do it in
such a way that no one called the police to report my weird behavior. Thursday
I made contact. Operation Snow Removal 2014/15 is now a done deal. They seemed genuinely
happy to have the job of shoveling my snow this winter and one sister had her
arm in a sling last year so I’m sure I got a little sympathy when I explained why
I need the help. Now, if they just show up all winter and don’t burn out I’ll be one
happy widow lady. Never mind that I’ll to have to learn to accept hearing the
word “totally” in every sentence these girls speak and not act like someone is
raking their fingernails over a blackboard. I’m totally fricking happy to make
that concession. They can totally say “totally” as often as the like and I will
totally resist saying it back in a coy way that borders on making fun of the young’uns.
Friday I went to a lecture given by a travel agency and a guide
that organizes trips for senior citizens. This slide show/lecture was on South America.
Not that I want to go there but what a paradise for nature lovers and fans of
lost civilizations. I know the guide fairly well---she facilitates the day
trips I take through the senior hall---and if I ever do travel abroad, I’d go
with her. I keep trying to get her to plan some trips around the states but
even after escorting over fifty trips aboard she still isn’t interested in traveling the
USA. I don’t get that. I guess because I grew up in the “See the USA in your Chevrolet”
era (remember Dinah Shore singing that commercial?) that idea is firmly imprinted
on my DNA just like “Anytime is a good time for Coca Cola” and “Fight tooth
decay, stop bad breath all day with Colgate Dental Cream” has thoroughly brainwashed
me into decades of brand loyalty.
Besides that, in this era of a terrorist around every corner and Ebola on every plane coming to America (I’d use an eye-rolling icon here if I had one) I’m not exactly inspired to fly. The last time I did it many decades ago I cried on take-off and landing both, thinking it would be the last sight I’d ever see and in between the stewardess tried to disfigure me with hot coffee poured down my chest. Yes, I graduated with honors from the School of Scary Cats which means you’ll never see sky diving on my Bucket List. Still, Nantucket, Cape Cod and New Orleans are on my Bucket List so there could be one or two trips in my future before I kick that proverbial bucket. ©
Besides that, in this era of a terrorist around every corner and Ebola on every plane coming to America (I’d use an eye-rolling icon here if I had one) I’m not exactly inspired to fly. The last time I did it many decades ago I cried on take-off and landing both, thinking it would be the last sight I’d ever see and in between the stewardess tried to disfigure me with hot coffee poured down my chest. Yes, I graduated with honors from the School of Scary Cats which means you’ll never see sky diving on my Bucket List. Still, Nantucket, Cape Cod and New Orleans are on my Bucket List so there could be one or two trips in my future before I kick that proverbial bucket. ©
