I was raised a few miles away from the small city where I was born; the city founded by my great-great-great grandparents. Generations of my father’s family made it their home making it entirely possible our lives unknowingly crossed throughout the years.
While the discovery of my ancestor’s belongings was especially profound for me, an adoptee, it became readily apparent that theirs is a story worth sharing. From the hundreds of letters written by my grandfather to his family from, at first, the United States Naval Academy to the battles of World War II and the letters, diaries and scrapbooks of my grandmother, it is a deep look into the lives of these remarkable people and the historic time period. As their only living descendant (aside from my own daughter), these very well may have ended up in the trash had our paths not crossed. I can’t explain my gratitude in getting a chance to get to know my ancestors in such a personal way.
My grandmother was seemingly the collector of the decades of family history. Tattered cardboard boxes in my father’s garage held hundreds of family photos and albums dating to the mid-1800’s, letters and books from the early 19th century, scrapbooks and diaries and relics I’m still trying to identify.
I invite you to come along with me as I get to know the family of my birth and this very special inheritance. I’ll be opening their letters and diaries and posting the stories of all their lives regularly.
