Revitalizing salt water

Salt water...as in the ocean, that is. A week ago we were on our way to the coast, so far our favorite destination. And, Ginger's first "overnight" as well...thankfully she loves the coast too. Our motel was just across the road from the beach in Manzanita, a quiet little burgh a few miles south of Cannon Beach. This is an example of the wonderful sunsets we saw...and everyone was out along the beach just watching.

Being fans of the evergreen and mountains, it's interesting...this pull the ocean has on us both. Pat, being from Hawaii, knows the power and effect of the ocean...and being literally surrounded by it. Coming from Oklahoma, I had only experienced the Gulf of Mexico...and in Texas, it's very salty, and very dirty...the water looks brown and you have to watch out for jellyfish. Here in Oregon we must be careful of "sneaker waves", but the long expanse of beach in Manzanita made it very, very friendly for us and dog. I think it is six or seven miles of beach with well packed sand...no rock formations, but lots of beach for walking, running, horseback riding. Since the weather was good (if cool) there were always lots of folks on the beach...even after sunset. But "lots" is a relative term. I think the most we saw was 50-75 along a stretch of a mile or more. Even the last full day, when the winds brought out para surfers, the beach was never crowded and that made it more enjoyable.

Something about the salty air is just incredibly envigorating. And the sound of the surf as it rolls ashore is as relaxing as the movement of the waves is mesmerizing. And though it's eventually time to go home...and you're glad to be back in familiar surroundings and sleeping in your own bed...you wish you could bottle up that feeling of calm, awake, and alive that the ocean has given. Instead, you know that you will return for another dose, another time. The photographs of sunsets and surfers remain, allowing you to relive those moments, and promise you they will be there...all you have to do is come back.

The little guy

Here we are, closing in on 5 months in age, interested in everything and everyone. Colic is gone, replaced by teething. But smiles and giggles fill much of the day, along with chattering and making faces. The chair is a "bumbo" and he seems to like sitting in it.

And he is part of the reason for all the genealogy ruckus going on. What can I pass down to him? I hope an understanding of who he is and where he comes from. Now it makes no sense to him, but some day...some day he will want to know about the people who came before him. I hope the work I do now will quell his curiosity, and help him learn about his roots.

A hunting we will go

Hunting for ancestors that is...no weapons involved. An ad caught my eye last week...which seldom happens...and the next thing I knew, I was consumed with the notion that I needed to search for my ancestors(which I think hits all of us from time to time). The ad, coupled with the fact that I'm reading a book about the Mayflower and the founding of Plymouth Colony, well...I felt all those people now long gone tugging at my sleeve.

Many, many years ago my grandmother (dad's mother) gave me a small packet. It contained, among other things, Civil War letters written by a great, great, great grandfather...a Confederate soldier in a Union prison, or prisoner of war camp. There were also receipts for taxes paid, college tuition for a great great grandmother, and a couple of handwritten genealogies...written in either fountain pen with an ink now brown and fading, or pencil! The letters were written in 1862 and 1863 and the handwriting is hard to read...and the ink is fading. The paper is slowly deteriorating as well...so I have to figure out how to preserve these documents.

It is these tattered, fading pieces of paper that have the greatest pull on me. One of my ancestors wrote these things and now there is no one living who can tell me about them. I was interested as a kid, but I don't remember what I might have been told, or how much there may have been to tell. I do have some sense of where all these "relations" were from though.

In my father's family, Mississippi (where the soldier was from), Tennessee, and Missouri seem to be prominent. Georgia I think is also in play...Missouri also is found in my mother's family, but Bohemia and Moravia are most prominent. At that time they were both part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, becoming Czechoslovakia years after my great grandparents immigrated to America. I have visions of them and what that America was like, what they found when they settled in Racine, Wisconsin with others of their families. Racine is the site of one of the first Czech newspapers in the US...maybe there is information to be found there.

It is an odd feeling, this connectedness with people long dead, many of whom I never heard of, or saw photos of. My Czech grandmother (born in this country) did begin to record information about the family, stories she remembered from childhood in Illinois. Sadly, she died less than a year after this process was begun(only a cassette tape or two survive). We always thought there would be more time to listen and ask questions. There wasn't. I met her mother only once (my great grand mother), already in her 80s and I was maybe 10. Her oldest daughter, my great aunt, would translate and speak Czech with her...yes, she knew English, but in her old age the Czech came to her more easily. I was not really old enough to realize what a treasure she was and what I might learn of family from her. By the time I realized I wanted to learn, she was gone.

I think of the immigration issues we now face. My great grandparents came into this country legally. They paid for their passage, signed all the proper documents, became citizens of America while other family members chose to stay in "the old country". They raised nine children here, paid their taxes, and never forgot those who stayed behind. But they did it legally, not imagining that there might be another way. It is on their shoulders that I now rest here...if not for them, I would not exist.