I've never been much of one to get into genealogy. Ashamedly, I'm not unlike most Americans who really aren't much interested in finding out about their ancestors. Why worry about people dead and gone? What really matters is our own generation. You know--the here and now. After all, it's all about me isn't it? Well, I do care about my kid's generation. And yes, I have grandchildren that I care about, and one day they will probably have children and I care about them and their children too. But really, I haven't seen too much point in looking back, and afterall, as Christians, we aren't to get hung up in "endless genealogies". When I have read over the genealogy in Matthew, there have been times I must confess that I have been guilty of skimming (read skipping) over much of it. But the Word says that
all Scripture is profitable, and that includes the genealogies. In fact the genealogies show the faithfulness of God in sending the promised Messiah. They are rich with information.
Lately, I've been getting immersed in my own family's genealogy. About a month ago, out of the blue, I received a call from a shirttail relative who is doing some genealogy research on my mother's side of the family. She had contacted me about 8-9 years ago and was calling to update our family information. As we talked, she mentioned that my Uncle Dale (my mother's half brother), is still alive and resides over by the Oregon Coast. I was surprised as I thought all of my mother's siblings were deceased. She gave me his email address and that started some very interesting correspondence between the two of us. My Uncle Dale, now 88, is the last person on earth who can tell me something about my grandfather. I want to know about my grandfather. I think I saw him only once when I was three years old and I don't remember anything about him. Of course when I was younger I didn't have the sense to ask my mother or my other two uncles about him. My Uncle Dale has described my Grandfather Ray this way:
"He was 5 ft 11 inches tall and real slender. He weighed about 155 most of his life and loved pancakes and eggs with coffee for breakfast. Two of each every day. He had an orchard with apricots and he loved talking about when an apricot is good to eat. He also loved to spade up a garden every year and planted many vegetables . He liked going hunting with us boys but would never shoot any thing. He had a dry sense of humor and one time hunting Dad had about one beer too many and they were at the hunting camp and dad was standing by a tree and all of a sudden he said, "One thing about us Frenchmen, when we go down, we go down fighting!" and he simply sat down and fell awsleep by the tree. He liked a beer now and then but he couldn't handle more than two or three. He smoked a pipe and used a tobacco called Velvet. He kept it going just about all day and quite a bit a night in bed. Looking back it could have caused our house to burn down if he went to sleep with it going . He wore those bib overalls most of the time but once in awhile he would dress up with a shirt ,tie and regular trousers."
Maybe that doesn't sound so interesting to you...but it certainly is to me! I like knowing about my Grandpa. I've always had a penchant for apricots...especially for apricot jam..maybe that's where I got my taste for it!
But I have to tell you that my Great-Grandmother Ama is my hero. She was a very petite woman. It is told that my Great-Grandfather Silas chose to seek his fortune on a homestead in the west. In about 1885, Silas and Ama and baby son George, headed west in a covered wagon and settled on their homestead site in western Kansas. This was very desolate, flat, dry country in Gove Couty, about 70 miles north and little west of Dodge City. Due to lack of funds, and natural timber, they were forced to construct a "dugout" in the side of a small hill on their homestead...While they were in Kansas life was very difficult with centipededs, spiders, lice, mites and prairie fires trying to share their living quarters...The children born in the dugout were Ray Chester (my Gpa), Vesta, and the twins Nora and Dora. They were all born without a doctor attending. Nora was a blue baby, and her father saved her by breathing into her mouth when she was born."
Next time I even think about complaining, I'm going to remember Great Grandma Ama living in those conditions and having her babies in a dug-out. These dear people have lessons to teach me. For some reason, the older I get the more interesting these things become.
A month or so ago I blogged about my friend Leslie who was involved in a terrible car accident. Today I went to the care center to see her for the first time since the accident. There is a large scar on the right side of her nose/eye area. She is a bit groggy from all the pain medicine, but she is sitting up and talking, and to tell you the truth, Leslie has never looked better to me. I hugged her and kissed her and told her that I loved her. Words that I should have told her long ago..before the accident. I've always loved Leslie, and it is a shame that it took almost losing my good friend to make me say the words. Leslie has a giggle that is unique and one that makes you giggle back. Leslie isn't doing much giggling right now. A small smile is all she can squeak out, but I'll take it, and look forward to the day when the giggle returns.
