Curiosity

Great-Great-Great Grandparents
Hachaliah & Harriet Cain

There are times when I would like to have a time machine.  Not so I could change history, but because I would like to meet my ancestors.  I have been researching my family tree since I was 16 and the facts and stories I learn about them only whet my appetite for more.  It is almost an addiction.  It is certainly a life-long hobby.

I was born into a white, middle-class family in the mid-1950s.  I never had the chance to know my father very well since he died when I was 10 years old, but one of my fondest memories of him involved a Christmas tradition.  Since I was the youngest child, he and I would always go to pick out the family Christmas tree together.  To me they were always the most beautiful trees in the world, but the rest of the family had a different opinion.  Looking at the old pictures now I have to agree with my family that 5-year-olds simply don't know what a beautiful tree is.  But the memories of that tradition are still precious.

My mother was the one who brought stability to our lives.  I don't ever remember a time when she wasn't working, yet she was always there---guiding us, disciplining us, baking bread, taking us to church and making us a family.  Even after my father died, she continued to work, raise the four of us children and she started going to college part-time.  I have always respected her for that.  One of my favorite memories of her involved helping her at work.  She was a clerk at a dime store and every year just before Easter, I would help her unpack the candy in the stockroom.  Any of the chocolate Easter bunnies that were broken could not be put on the shelves, so, of course, I got to dispose of a few of them.  It was a delicious job.

Family was very important to my mother and I can see how her actions instilled that thought in me.  The family gatherings we had during my childhood will be remembered throughout my lifetime.  I had lots of aunts, uncles and cousins in the area.  My maternal grandparents lived close by also.  Every Thanksgiving we would get together for a big family dinner and always after dinner we would draw names for the Christmas gift exchange.  It was always fun to hear the squeals of joy and see the rolling of eyes as everyone peeked to see whom they had to buy a present for.  Next there was always whisperings of suggested gift ideas and occasionally someone quietly pleading for a trade.  It was all so very fun.

Along with all the eating and catching up on daily activities that went on at these gatherings, stories of the "old days" were always told too.  My grandparents and aunts and uncles were always talking about things that happened in their childhoods.  I think these stories planted the seed of interest in me which grew into the study of genealogy.  I find it all quite fascinating.

One of the most intriguing stories I have heard, I have not been able to verify, but I am inclined to believe there is, at least, a little truth to it.  It goes like this......One of my great-great-great-great-grandfathers was found abandoned in a boat off the coast of England.  He was just an infant and no one could find out who his family was.  After an unsuccessful investigation, the Queen of England herself gave the baby the surname of Skidmore and the child was raised in England.  He eventually immigrated to America and had a large family which I have been able to trace to me.  I admit that this story sounds outlandish, but after I moved to Phoenix I was able to get a slight form of validation for it.  One day, while working on my genealogy, I decided to go through the Phoenix phone book and call some of the people with the last name of Skidmore.  I didn't know whether these people were relatives or not.  As I was talking to one gentleman, he related this same story.  The only difference was that the baby was found off the coast of Sweden, not England.  All other details were the same!  Amazing, isn't it?

I have many other stories equally interesting.  A great-great-grandfather was an inventor and also worked with a circus for awhile.  A great-grandmother traveled from Wisconsin to Nebraska in a covered wagon as a child.  A great-grandfather immigrated from Denmark as a young man, got married, had three children and when his oldest child was only five years old, his wife contracted pneumonia and died at the age of twenty-two.  For the most part, I believe most of my ancestors would not say they had lived extraordinary lives.  But just their day-to-day existence is extraordinary, in my opinion.  I am equally sure that they would be amazed at my day-to-day life.  It is so different from what they experienced.

All in all, studying my family history has been both frustrating and exciting.  It helps me to find my own identity.  It also makes history come alive when I think about my own relatives and how they related to the current events of their time. What about you?  Do you ever wonder what your ancestors' daily routines were like?  Why they made the decisions they did?  Why they traveled to another part of the country even though they knew there were dangers and they may never again see the family they were leaving behind?  If so, try doing a little family research. It may open up a completely different path in your life.