Chasing ghosts

Pasadena, 1965

Fatima, 1969

I'vespent the past few days looking into a family tree that had until now, only had a few branches on it. One side of the tree is being filled in. Names are being accounted for, even if there are no faces to go with them. The other side of the tree, not at all.

It stops at a dad I knew, uncles I never met, a grandfather (his father) who died when my dad was 12, and a grandmother (his mother) I know nothing about. Going back any further is like walking in the woods at twilight.

I also wonder if it's worth it. So far, the only thing I can say I've learned is that some of the relatives on my mother's side of the family were poor miners from Liverpool. Others came from Wales and supposedly Ireland although I've yet to discover any.

Some passed through Ellis Island to get here. Others went through Montreal. At least one stayed up there. While the rest made their way eventually or directly to Western Pennsylvania.

What's missing is a the plot. There's no story here. No twists and turns. There is only migration of people I have no connection to, and never met. It makes me laugh at ads for sites like Ancestry where people learn all this information about their history and have this so-called deeper understanding of their roots.

I feel none of that. And with each new scanned record, the feeling remains. I'm not saying this is a bad thing or a good thing. It's just a thing.

Also: If you aren't following me on Twitter you probably should.