Posted in Memoir, Musings

Journal April 2, 2013

“Never move faster than the wind.” 4/2/2013

Sage advice to myself or just random thoughts scribbled down with no real meaning.  Today I think I could use a gush of wind to get me moving from this chair, typing away, thinking all the way back to March 1, 2008 and even beyond that to a great, great, great grandfather buried in Russiaville, IN, after dying in the War of 1812.  Did his actions make me who I am today?  And what about his father and the fathers before him? (Gregg and his wife, Frances, are buried in Russiaville Cemetery and I plan to get there soon to take pictures.  His wife’s stone only remains but his name is inscribed on it.)

Our family history is interwoven in the fabric of America, but even before that our family origins span England, Ireland, Finland and who knows where else.  People are travelers and most of us have a bit of differing culture dwelling in our genes.  What impact does any of this have on me? Us?

I have a great, great grandmother who befriended Black Hawk (aka Black Hawk War), in the Kickapoo Valley of Wisconsin.  The story goes that Black Hawk was roaming in the woods and in need of food and shelter for the night.  My great, great grandmother invited him in for dinner and a restful sleep.  She was a widow with children but took it upon herself, practicing her Christian beliefs, to help the unfortunate.  I take pride in this story.  She did what little she could do to provide sacrificially.  She was a strong woman surviving in the wilderness.

These stories give me a sense of humanity at the best and the worst.  War is inevitable but so is compassion.  I wonder where I would be had America never become who she is today? Family from Finland might never have reached the shores.  I just might never have existed.

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