Did you ever have one of those days when nothing seemed to work properly? I’ve had them too, but prefer to focus on days when everything seems to work without a hitch. Unfortunately, the first few hours today things seemed to go the negative way. On the other hand, things improved as the morning progressed so perhaps most days are mix of ups and downs.
First off, I woke up with very bad back pain. This happens the day after I do certain exercises in the pool. Fortunately, after I took my Celebrex, made my bed and drank two cups of coffee, the pain eventually dissipated.
Next, my little Mac went dark, when I tried to log on. I called for an appointment with the Apple store. I know what the problem is, and know I must make a trip to the store to fix it. Or so I thought. After trying for an hour to use my husband’s antiquated system with his 49 spam catches and security checks, I gave up and tried my Mac again. Mac decided to give me a break and worked like a charm as you can see. Thank goodness. All’s well that ends well.
After a quick and rough compilation of family tree historical material on Ancestry.com, I have spent the past few days cleaning up the material I found as well as the stuff I added from my piles of family paperwork. One of the results the past few days has been locating the French Canadian branch of the family whose members moved south after Britain defeated France and drove the ‘Arcadiens –> Cajuns out of their homes. The whole sad tale is told in Longfellow’s poem, Evangeline.
I’d like to tell you my ancestors were illustrious people, but they were mostly ordinary souls who fled persecution in one form or another (religious and economic). Some were indentured servants who worked hard to carve a home out of what they perceived as a wilderness.
Their descendants worked in the timber (logging) and paper (mills) and later the railroad in their new homelands. Most of these migrant ancestors followed the railroads and the timber west. Our family had the good grace to leave a few records behind for me their descendent to track them down. And thank goodness, the history I studied at GMU focused on popular culture…the story of the people.
Of course, the land was already sparsely populated with indigenous people, Abenaki in the case of my ancestors in Maine and New Hampshire. I don’t use the word native to describe anyone these days. No one is native. We are all migrants, or the children of migrants…that’s the history of humans everywhere, even the Abenaki, and it is especially the history of Americans. I am an American.