Family Matters

Jack is in trouble for being really late this week – –

I have a second cousin who has become the historian of the family and has been writing stories going back generations and putting them up on FaceBook.

The first few were so far back that I had to dig deep to recognize the people he was referencing. Of course that was partly because they existed on the periphery of my direct forebears. Nevertheless, some names were familiar, including my grandfather on my dad’s side after whom I was named.

I read recently that if you go back ten generations you have over a thousand direct ancestors that have contributed to or share your DNA.

But as Donald began to get up to date, more and more familiar names emerged. People I remembered from when I was a child and we would go on trips to visit them over in the west of Scotland. This was often quite an adventure in our unreliable pre-war and second hand Hillman Minx. There were no modern roads and we would meander slowly through towns and villages until we arrived.

Cousins, Aunts and Uncles and friends of theirs (many long gone) have emerged into the light through Donald’s stories which are amazing and a mixture of remembered family memories and research through on-line databases. He always manages to work in a connection between the family story and what’s happening in the wider world at the same time

 A recent one concerned the marriage of his parents – John and Sheila Adamson (Sheila was my dad’s niece, the daughter of his sister).

The photograph he posted of the wedding was a real time-warp. A mixture of folk that teased back through various family strands and forward to my own life now. My sister Margaret and cousin Pat were bridesmaids and I seem to remember the occasion although I was only seven.

When Wendy first came over to Scotland she was able to record family stories from my mother and these add another dimension that is more immediate, but also adds another layer in her own words.

I’m sure Donald would say this is just a hobby for him and that may be, but I know that these stories, written from a family perspective, but placed in that wider context are important and I hope he is archiving them safely!

Much kudos to Donald Adamson for taking on this time consuming task!!

Because I Can: Wendy gets unapologetically Grumpy

Over the past couple months I have posted some joyful pictures of my canning successes. (In true social media fashion, no one will ever see the failures.)

In response to these, I got an unexpected and significant amount of cautious questions and some condescending dismissals, like “well I wouldn’t bother with that because it’s cheap at the store, but if you want to be a prepper, be my guest.” And “why are you doing so much canning?”

Social media is one of those weird places where, if you put it out there, you can’t control reactions, nor should you want to. It’s also one of those places where what you think of as happy gets commented on by people who enjoy spreading misery, or who believe their candles will burn brighter if they throw cold water on your flame.

I’m having fun. I can because I can. I like it. The food is good and I know what’s in it. The jars look pretty on a shelf and have become that kind of functional beauty decoration folklorists loved to talk about in academic terms, back in Grad School when we couldn’t afford any art anyway.

So maybe I’m a little annoyed when others feel a need to shred the joy, but c’est la vie. Prepper is hardly the worst thing I’ve been called in life, and the political goo that sticks to the term washes off easily in my water bath canner. I just spent a week at the beach with friends who are taking herbal medicine classes to enhance their professions, and they’re getting jeered at for being hippie weirdos. Which amuses them. Herbal medicines are about the most capitalistic thing going in America right now. You have NO IDEA how much a tincture based on herbs picked for free from your grandpa’s acre sells for per ounce. Or how good sea rocket tastes, sauteed in olive oil. Laughing all the way to the bank, they are, with their muscles relaxed from the stuff they know how to make cheap and apply in just the right spot.

If everything, from why french fries are soggy to the reasons people like canned milk, has to be politicized, here’s wishing those who do so what joy they can scrape out of such ungracious social media interaction. It doesn’t look like much joy from here, but live and let live; isn’t that the point.

Can’t we just enjoy life and let others do the same? Sometimes people have hobbies that involve learning new things because they enjoy learning new things. As opposed to, say, sitting around watching TV. Not everything has to have a democratic or republican slant. Sometimes we pick violets because they’re pretty, and sometimes because they make great sauce for ice cream. Vanilla. Which one hears republicans prefer. Whatever. I guess democrats like Cherry Garcia?

Cut it out, y’all. Get real lives. Enjoy something because you enjoy it. Remember joy, contentment, peace? We can still do that. Live and let live.

(Note to friends who may be feeling attacked right now: It’s okay; I know you asked because you care. Other people didn’t and I’m talking to them. Let it go.)