Recently my sweet husband and I had the blessing to attend a beautiful wedding down south of us in the Shiner area. On the way down, we were passing through Yoakum, which is the area where my Dad was born and raised. I commented to Wes that several family members were buried near there including my paternal grandparents. Wes said we should go by to pay our respects since we weren’t in a time crunch. He asked me if I remembered where the graves were. I jokingly told him I did…”the last time I was here they were right on the other side of that tent.” He laughed and said something rude about the way my brain works.

The day was gray and windy and COLD. I had no intention of staying long, but Wes was curious as to “who was who.” After I pointed out grandparents, aunts and uncles, (and my toes begin to freeze), I headed for the car. Wes continued to explore, and took some photos of some very old, very interesting looking headstones. When he got back in the car, he asked me if I knew who Samuel Stevens was and showed me one of the pictures. I knew he was family, but didn’t know off the top of my head exactly where he fit. Thanks to FindaGrave.com, I was able to tell Wes that Samuel was actually my great-great grandfather!

My Aunt Nancy Page is the genealogist in the Stevens family, and I know she has shared all of this information with our bunch before. Maybe I was too young. Maybe I was too busy running after little ones. Or maybe at the time, I just didn’t think it was important enough to pay attention. Whatever the reason – good or bad – it was suddenly very important to me. Who were these people who were partially responsible for my being here? We continued to dig and to research. By the end of the weekend, we had visited four cemeteries and the graves of my grandmother and grandfather, great grandmother and great grandfather, two great-great grandmothers and grandfathers, two great-great-great grandmothers AND a four time great grandmother!

I think once you become a grandparent and begin to truly realize your own mortality, it makes you wonder if future generations will ever know about you. My brother Dan and his wife Kelli gave my mom the “Storyworth” gift. She spent a year answering a different weekly question about her life. I have thoroughly enjoyed helping her create the book these stories will become. It has reminded me of how incredibly special my parents are, and how I want my children to remember that. I want them to know how much I loved MY grandparents and how amazing they were. Last weekend, really drove home how amazing it is to know where you come from…how wonderful it is to know the stories of your family. I encourage you to write yours down.

Not long ago, I had a reader tell me “she felt like she knows me,” although we had just met. I am sure it’s because I try not to “put on airs” as my grandmother would say, and pretend to be something, or someone, I’m not. I’m just me. The great, great, make that grateful, granddaughter of men and women who were ordinarily extraordinary. How cool is that?

Until next time,
Karen