The cowboy might have been
a tough ranch hand
alone most days
set in his ways
a nomad roaming the land. Continue reading
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family history
Mary’s Grave
There is a place
not too far away
that is hidden
to the human eye
but where the antelope play. Continue reading
The Quest for Mary
Sometimes you just have to believe that maybe you are being guided on a certain path for an unknown reason. Maybe the only reason is to bring a smile to your lips and warm your heart. But sometimes you just have to think maybe, just maybe, this series of events is more than a coincidence. Sometimes it’s bigger than you. Sometimes. Here is one of those times for me. Continue reading
In Mom’s Steps
“Am I like grandma?” I used to ask my mom ad nauseam. “Tell me about grandma.” My grandma T died before any of her grandchildren were born and I missed having a grandma. Without any consideration for my mom having to bring up memories about her beloved mother I used to beg her to tell me about grandma T. In my defense, I didn’t understand and couldn’t comprehend how sometimes talking about the deceased can be a painful experience. That was a lesson I could only learn by unfortunate experience. So when I was young, I pleaded for information about this absent woman whose blood ran through my veins. I guess I yearn for connections and I needed to know if grandma would have liked her granddaughter. In a way, I am still searching for connections. Continue reading
My Names
I am proud of my name
but also my hidden name.
Two lines mixed together
and both I claim. Continue reading
I am a Stowaway
I like family history. I’m just not any good at it. There is a particular family legend on my mom’s side that we have shared and are kind of proud of it. There is a chance that it may not be true. But even if part of it is true, oh, what a story!
Memory Keeper
I am the memory keeper
though I didn’t set out to be. Continue reading
Little Lady Catherine
She welcomes travelers home above,
Her face is the first many see.
It is a duty she does with love,
Comforting the sad and lonely.
The Book
Do me a favor, don’t call it work, call it history
I’ve always been interested in family history. Sort of. More on my terms than any useful, practical terms of actually doing the work. Maybe that’s it. I liked hearing the stories but I never wanted to do the work to find the stories out.
Hmm. I think that’s called laziness.
Huh.
