This New Yorker piece by David Sedaris resonated with me. The recent suicide of his sister is the spur but the tale is a look at family life.
I've been doing hit-and-miss genealogical research for the past dozen years or so. And I've been scanning family photos for months now, trying to make a pictorial history of our people. Because other people are adding things to the Web all the time, more resources are available and I am finding new kin and connections.
For instance, I am now in touch (Facebook, Shutterfly, email) with a woman who is in the line of my great-grandfather's brother. It turns out that she can put names to some of my "unknowns" in my family photo collection. Together we can consider the story of a distant relative of ours who beat his father to death this past spring. And then there's another brother in our shared line who drove his new truck (brake failure) off a ferry into the Wabash River and drowned in 1926.
This past weekend some LohPeople attended an anniversary party that was a celebration of family. There weren't many of my line in attendance. As a result, I visited quite a bit with my cousin's cousins from his mother's line (I'm affiliated with the father's line). It was strange, as we talked at dinner, to realize that these same people had been in attendance at the wedding 25 years ago, at another wedding eight years ago, at another anniversary party six years ago and I'd never been aware of them, much less take the time to introduce myself. It will be different if there is another gathering which features our shared relatives.
A long way from a well-known writer's thoughts about his own family unit, I know. But the human condition requires some sort of a family unit for humanity.
I've been doing hit-and-miss genealogical research for the past dozen years or so. And I've been scanning family photos for months now, trying to make a pictorial history of our people. Because other people are adding things to the Web all the time, more resources are available and I am finding new kin and connections.
For instance, I am now in touch (Facebook, Shutterfly, email) with a woman who is in the line of my great-grandfather's brother. It turns out that she can put names to some of my "unknowns" in my family photo collection. Together we can consider the story of a distant relative of ours who beat his father to death this past spring. And then there's another brother in our shared line who drove his new truck (brake failure) off a ferry into the Wabash River and drowned in 1926.
This past weekend some LohPeople attended an anniversary party that was a celebration of family. There weren't many of my line in attendance. As a result, I visited quite a bit with my cousin's cousins from his mother's line (I'm affiliated with the father's line). It was strange, as we talked at dinner, to realize that these same people had been in attendance at the wedding 25 years ago, at another wedding eight years ago, at another anniversary party six years ago and I'd never been aware of them, much less take the time to introduce myself. It will be different if there is another gathering which features our shared relatives.
A long way from a well-known writer's thoughts about his own family unit, I know. But the human condition requires some sort of a family unit for humanity.