Come! Share the Journey of Family Heritage Stories, Laced With Patterns of Living Throughout Generations of Time. We Are All A Remnant of A Rich Tapestry, Waiting to Be Rewoven Together.
Many of us find ourselves longing for a connection to something, or someone from the days we cannot touch; sometimes inspired by a photograph or a scrap of withering notation we found tucked away between the pages of a book in a long-forgotten trunk, or some emotion we cannot ignore. There seems to be a common thread that connects us all to the past; be it a name, an expression, or a geographical placement in this timeline we call mortality. Whatever it is that connects us, and draws our thoughts and hearts to one another, seems to be the passion that brings us to this blogging thing. My hope for any connection leads me to share with you some commonalities in blogging, daring to claim a place among the great writers; but if nothing more than my own journaling, it will be a tangible way for me to make sense of my own individuality, vulnerabilities, and emotions as I continue on this journey called life. I hope this blog may encourage and uplift.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
A New Year
Sometimes I find myself transposed into some other world when I read about my Mennonite families and their hard work in preserving their family values through living a Separatist way of life. My Pennsylvania roots go deep across the Seas into Ireland when I travel back with the first Livingston families that immigrated into York County; along with my Postlethwaite families that intermarried with my Mennonite families and the Livingston families that intermarried with the Postlethwaite and Hendricks families. I am in awe when I study these families, and I so much would like to be there with them in the dirt floor and herbal remedy way of life that preceded this easy-access-to-anything lifestyle that holds me captive in this Time Capsule. Why would I want to experience the menial, oft times mundane, simplistic lifestyle that seems to beckon my soul into the past, where I could run barefoot in the grasses of Ohio, or explore the winding Rivers on a Riverboat or Ferry Captained by a wayward cousin? Only in my romantic storybook can I live without the reality of losing a child to smallpox, or watching my one-room hand-cut log home burn to the ground because there was no water to dowse the engulfing flames.
What do I know about the fiber of character that is woven in my sinews, the very source that binds me to the past, and draws me into an abyss of never-ending family lines? Maybe this year I can explore a little deeper into the lives that sacrificed so much so I can live the easy-access-to-anything lifestyle.
Well, here's to Another Year to explore! Another Year to dream! Another Year to Romance the Past!