My main hobby nowadays is genealogy. One of my mother's distant cousins had traced a branch of her family and published a book, which is what started me on the path. So many people now have no idea where they came from or what their ancestors had to endure so their spoiled grandchildren could have Wiis and iPhones. How can you know where you're headed unless you know where you came from? It's fascinating to me to learn about my family's part in history. A subscription to Ancestry.com has been one of the best purchases I've ever made.
The trials and tribulations of your ancestors are part of your DNA. Your great-great-grandfather who left his home and moved to a foreign country for a chance at a better life; your great-great-grandmother who gave birth to 14 children without a doctor's care, made a home for them and raised them successfully; your great-uncle who fought in World War II: their bravery and fortitude runs in your veins. No matter that you haven't done any of those things yourself, just think what you're capable of.
PBS starts a series on Wednesday, Feb. 10th called Faces of America. Dr. Henry Louis Gates traces the genealogy of some celebrated Americans. There will also be a series later this year on PBS called African-American Lives, which traces the ancestry of famous African-Americans. These programs should not be missed. If they inspire in you a yearning to learn about your own family history, you can research your lineage here:
www.ancestry.com
www.rootsweb.com
www.familysearch.org
I knew next to nothing about my father's family when I started my journey. Not only have I learned about them, I've provided that knowledge for my father and his siblings who were also in the dark when it came to their background. I've heard from distant cousins who emailed me pictures and stories of long-dead relatives whose names I had heard only in passing. Learning about my ancestors has rewarded me in ways I never imagined and I look forward to the road ahead.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Sugar and Vinegar
"You can catch more files with sugar than with vinegar".
As I get older, I find the truth in this old adage. I grew up with a very hostile attitude toward many things: men, authority figures, vegetables and snowshoe crabs among them. The older I got, the more I realized that being rude and snappish wasn't me being sophisticated and intelligent; on the contrary, it just made my life harder than it already was. That period of my life came to a head when I worked at the record store. Daily I dealt with men who could not imagine that a female (especially a blonde female) could possibly know anything about records or music, let alone anything other than manicures or deceiving unsuspecting men out of their hard-earned dollars. The near constant sarcasm and arrogance directed at me made me sarcastic and arrogant. Not that I'm against sarcasm, but arrogance is more problematic. I went into my thirties wondering if I was always going to be this angry......then Mom died.
I know that all Mom wanted for me was to be happy. She had never seen me that way except as a very small child. My parents' divorce, my father's neglect and sexual abuse by a family member changed all that. When Mom died, I made a promise to her and myself that I would be happy and have the good life that she wanted me to have. My attitude changed almost overnight and my life has been all the better for it. I became conscious that much of my unhappiness was due to negative people in my life; people around who I felt that I could not be myself or who required me to act a certain way. Not that I'm a screaming lunatic in public, but I do not place much stock in "putting on appearances". Why lie when you'll just have to remember what lies you told to whom? This meant that I would be cutting out negative influences from my life. Some people thrive on the unhappiness of others; they are energy "vampires" of a sort. This gives them entirely too much power over those who try to love them. I firmly believe that no one can make you a doormat unless you allow them to do that. I lost a job because the boss wanted me to be a doormat and I refused.
I've also found that being positive and cheerful has rewarded me, both spiritually and emotionally. It really is true that if you smile at someone, they'll usually smile back. If you don't send out attitude, you tend to get less attitude in return. It's so nice to go through a day not incensed over some offense done to me. It's easier to be nice than to try and appear "tough". I know I'm a tough old broad, I don't need to convince anyone else of that fact. They'll find out soon enough if they cross me.....Like I said, I'm a nice person, but that doesn't make me suitable for scraping your shoes on. As long as you don't try to do that, we'll get along fine.
I'm glad to be at a point in my life where I know who I am and who I am supposed to be. I demand a real reason to be upset now, instead of grinding my teeth about EVERYTHING in my life.
As I get older, I find the truth in this old adage. I grew up with a very hostile attitude toward many things: men, authority figures, vegetables and snowshoe crabs among them. The older I got, the more I realized that being rude and snappish wasn't me being sophisticated and intelligent; on the contrary, it just made my life harder than it already was. That period of my life came to a head when I worked at the record store. Daily I dealt with men who could not imagine that a female (especially a blonde female) could possibly know anything about records or music, let alone anything other than manicures or deceiving unsuspecting men out of their hard-earned dollars. The near constant sarcasm and arrogance directed at me made me sarcastic and arrogant. Not that I'm against sarcasm, but arrogance is more problematic. I went into my thirties wondering if I was always going to be this angry......then Mom died.
I know that all Mom wanted for me was to be happy. She had never seen me that way except as a very small child. My parents' divorce, my father's neglect and sexual abuse by a family member changed all that. When Mom died, I made a promise to her and myself that I would be happy and have the good life that she wanted me to have. My attitude changed almost overnight and my life has been all the better for it. I became conscious that much of my unhappiness was due to negative people in my life; people around who I felt that I could not be myself or who required me to act a certain way. Not that I'm a screaming lunatic in public, but I do not place much stock in "putting on appearances". Why lie when you'll just have to remember what lies you told to whom? This meant that I would be cutting out negative influences from my life. Some people thrive on the unhappiness of others; they are energy "vampires" of a sort. This gives them entirely too much power over those who try to love them. I firmly believe that no one can make you a doormat unless you allow them to do that. I lost a job because the boss wanted me to be a doormat and I refused.
I've also found that being positive and cheerful has rewarded me, both spiritually and emotionally. It really is true that if you smile at someone, they'll usually smile back. If you don't send out attitude, you tend to get less attitude in return. It's so nice to go through a day not incensed over some offense done to me. It's easier to be nice than to try and appear "tough". I know I'm a tough old broad, I don't need to convince anyone else of that fact. They'll find out soon enough if they cross me.....Like I said, I'm a nice person, but that doesn't make me suitable for scraping your shoes on. As long as you don't try to do that, we'll get along fine.
I'm glad to be at a point in my life where I know who I am and who I am supposed to be. I demand a real reason to be upset now, instead of grinding my teeth about EVERYTHING in my life.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Summertime Blues
I'm in the middle of my yearly summer depression. The heat, the pain and having to stay inside all the time get to me and my mood plummets. I usually don't start feeling better until it gets cooler in October. I get "intrusive thoughts" during this time of year; thoughts that will jump into my head when I'm engrossed in something else: "You'll die soon", "You'll be a widow", things along those lines. I've been in therapy for years learning different ways to cope with these thoughts, but nothing has ever made them stop.
Sometimes I think that I'll die never having enjoyed living, and this makes me even sadder. There have been episodes when I enjoyed my life, such as when my husband and I knew we were the ones for each other and when we married. I love being married and I can honestly say that it's the one good thing I've accomplished in my life, but I still feel like I'm just existing. Many times I feel like I'm too damaged to enjoy living, like a toy that's been thrown across the room too many times and won't work right. Life is a trial, for the most part.
All of this has nothing to do with anyone else in my life now. It's all to do with stuff from my past, dragging me down like a ball and chain. How old do I have to be to get rid of it? I don't like talking about this stuff to anyone, even if they ask. I know they're just doing it to be polite. It's boring and tiresome to me, so why would it be interesting to someone else? I post about it in this blog because it's the only place I feel comfortable about confiding.
I'll feel differently in October, I always do. That's the one lesson I've learned from dealing with life-long black depressions; this too shall pass. It always does. Whether what comes after is good or bad is hard to say.
Sometimes I think that I'll die never having enjoyed living, and this makes me even sadder. There have been episodes when I enjoyed my life, such as when my husband and I knew we were the ones for each other and when we married. I love being married and I can honestly say that it's the one good thing I've accomplished in my life, but I still feel like I'm just existing. Many times I feel like I'm too damaged to enjoy living, like a toy that's been thrown across the room too many times and won't work right. Life is a trial, for the most part.
All of this has nothing to do with anyone else in my life now. It's all to do with stuff from my past, dragging me down like a ball and chain. How old do I have to be to get rid of it? I don't like talking about this stuff to anyone, even if they ask. I know they're just doing it to be polite. It's boring and tiresome to me, so why would it be interesting to someone else? I post about it in this blog because it's the only place I feel comfortable about confiding.
I'll feel differently in October, I always do. That's the one lesson I've learned from dealing with life-long black depressions; this too shall pass. It always does. Whether what comes after is good or bad is hard to say.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Random School Memories - First Grade
I started school in 1971 at age 5. I attended Catholic school in Dallas, even though I wasn't Catholic; mainly because my mother had taught me to read and write when I was 4 and Dallas public schools would not allow 5-year-olds to begin first grade. Since my birthday was in October, I would've to have waited another year to begin class. The Catholics allowed non-Catholic children to attend class there as long as their parents didn't have a problem with the kids attending catechism class and morning mass. So, I was Catholic for a year.
We got to wear cute little uniforms, which I loved. My mom was working two jobs to support me after my parents' divorce and she didn't have any extra money for stylish clothes or indeed sometimes for food, so my clothes would be quite threadbare. Kids can be very cruel if you were different in any way; the uniform meant that I looked like everyone else and I was grateful for that. I already felt very apart from everyone, even at that young age. We used Big Chief tablets to write in (with a picture of a hippie on the front; not the ones with an Indian chief) and those big fat pencils to write with.
My teacher was Sister Bernadette, who dressed in a pantsuit with her veil. I remember being smacked across the knuckles with a ruler when she caught me trying to write left-handed like my mother. Our class went on several great field trips; the Schweppes ice cream factory (we got little containers of peppermint ice cream), the Mrs. Baird's Bakery on Mockingbird (we got little loaves of bread) and the Dr Pepper bottling plant (guess what we got there?).
My mom could only afford for me to attend one year and she wasn't wild about me actually becoming Catholic if I stayed any longer (her family was Southern Baptist. She didn't tell any of them that I was in Catholic school; they would have shit a brick!) so for second grade, I would attend Reinhardt Elementary in east Dallas. More to come.......
We got to wear cute little uniforms, which I loved. My mom was working two jobs to support me after my parents' divorce and she didn't have any extra money for stylish clothes or indeed sometimes for food, so my clothes would be quite threadbare. Kids can be very cruel if you were different in any way; the uniform meant that I looked like everyone else and I was grateful for that. I already felt very apart from everyone, even at that young age. We used Big Chief tablets to write in (with a picture of a hippie on the front; not the ones with an Indian chief) and those big fat pencils to write with.
My teacher was Sister Bernadette, who dressed in a pantsuit with her veil. I remember being smacked across the knuckles with a ruler when she caught me trying to write left-handed like my mother. Our class went on several great field trips; the Schweppes ice cream factory (we got little containers of peppermint ice cream), the Mrs. Baird's Bakery on Mockingbird (we got little loaves of bread) and the Dr Pepper bottling plant (guess what we got there?).
My mom could only afford for me to attend one year and she wasn't wild about me actually becoming Catholic if I stayed any longer (her family was Southern Baptist. She didn't tell any of them that I was in Catholic school; they would have shit a brick!) so for second grade, I would attend Reinhardt Elementary in east Dallas. More to come.......
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Not a Girly-Girl
I've never been accused of being feminine. I don't get manicures or pedicures, I don't wear dresses or shorts unless forced, I take only the minimal amount of time to out on makeup, and that's only during the week. When I'm not working, I don't wear makeup.
I used to paint my grandmother's nails and give her manicures, but I'm absolutely terrible at treating myself to such luxuries. When I try to paint my own nails, it looks sloppy and awful.
I hate clothes shopping with a burning passion. I'd rather do yard work than go clothes shopping. I'd rather eat liver than go clothes shopping. I wear jeans and t-shirts exclusively, which is boring but comfortable.
Maybe my poor sense of self-esteem is to blame? You can see by my headline picture that I love glamor, but I cannot see myself in that way. I'd like to, to a certain extent. I'm certainly not going to out forth the effort that most women do, but I would like to change my appearance. I'm not happy with this one.
I used to paint my grandmother's nails and give her manicures, but I'm absolutely terrible at treating myself to such luxuries. When I try to paint my own nails, it looks sloppy and awful.
I hate clothes shopping with a burning passion. I'd rather do yard work than go clothes shopping. I'd rather eat liver than go clothes shopping. I wear jeans and t-shirts exclusively, which is boring but comfortable.
Maybe my poor sense of self-esteem is to blame? You can see by my headline picture that I love glamor, but I cannot see myself in that way. I'd like to, to a certain extent. I'm certainly not going to out forth the effort that most women do, but I would like to change my appearance. I'm not happy with this one.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A Fox in the Henhouse
Not really, but we did have a raccoon in the office yesterday. My co-worker was quite surprised when he ambled into her cubicle. Our boss would have been even more surprised if she had been in her office when it fell through the ceiling.....
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Anniversary
My marriage makes it possible for me to live. I have no doubt that I could exist by myself, because I've done so before, but that's all it would be: existing. I consider my husband and myself to be two halves of a whole. We've been married for 15 years this month and we've been together for 20 years this November. I hate being apart from him.
When I was younger, I never fretted about not having boyfriends. I knew that my soul mate was out there somewhere and I would find him eventually. My marriage is the best thing I've done in my life.
When I was younger, I never fretted about not having boyfriends. I knew that my soul mate was out there somewhere and I would find him eventually. My marriage is the best thing I've done in my life.
