Friday, November 7, 2008

My Ancestry...


I haven't talked a lot about my past....how I grew up...my childhood..nor, have I talked about my heritage....as you may have perceived, via the title of my blog, I grew up in the south...the deep south...that I did...but, I was born in North Carolina..Ashville, to be exact....my Mom, married my dad when she was only 15 years old....that is one truth of the south..the women marry young...anyway, my dad was a truck driver...he drove the big rigs....one day, he came home from a run to California....he had been gone for several days....upon arriving home, he had complained to my Mom, who was only 18 years old at the time, that he didn't feel good...his chest hurt, his head hurt, he was going to lie down....my Mom went in to check on him, because she heard him cry out, and he ended up having a massive coronary and died in my Mama's arms...she was 2 months pregnant with me...I never met my Dad....Often, I am sad about that...my Mom remarried when I was two years old, and my Step Dad...he was a good guy....he raised me, but I kept my real dad's last name...and his heritage....you see, my real Dad...Eddie....was half Cherokee Indian..my Real Grandmother/Grandfather, whom I never met...were full blooded Cherokee Indians....my father was raised in foster care, so my real relatives have never been a part of my life...but, I know, due to my ancestry, that I am a 1/4 Cherokee...and when I listen to music, made by my ancestors...it touches a special place in my heart....as a child, my mother and step father took me and my brother to Cherokee NC many times....I danced the "rain dance", I wore the head dress...I had my own special tomahawk and female Indian dress....those memories are so special to me...and I so much want to be able to share those with my children....Where you come from means so much.....never be ashamed of your heritage...each country, each nationality has it's own special place in the world; embrace it, honor it and accept it....love one another......you may be around your friends, your loved ones, each and every day, but do you truly know them? Do you truly know yourself? If not, research your family history, see where your roots grew from, and embrace them, love them and be proud of them...I know that I am.

4 comments:

Sicilian said...

Dix. . . what a great post. . . . I think you are right on. . . . our heritage is something that we each should pass on to our children. . . . this blog is kind of that for me, but I really need to write down all that I remember. . . . my brothers are all younger and do not know the stories that I used to hear sitting around the table while my mom had coffee with the relatives. . . you have inspired me to get off my duff. . . . and write on.
Ciao

Toni said...

Wow- what a story. I am so sad you didn't get to know your father but at least your mom and stepfather didn't try to trick you into believing you were theirs together, y'know?

I think it is really special you got to partake in some Native American traditions and tribal rituals- what memories to pass on to your children.

Great post!

Flat Coke and Flies said...

Great story...I really enjoyed your post.

I am so sorry about you never knowing your father. I am glad you kept his name and you know exactly where you came from. You are right, it's very important.

.:| Melissa |:. said...

Been researching since Sept. 2000! :0)

Story is that my great great grandmother is full blooded Native American. By her photograph, it's evident! Can't find the proof! Which tribe, though, I'm not sure. Either Cherokee or Creek. She was born in 1847 in South Georgia. I so desire to know more about my Native American ancestry!! It's just really hard to find the information I need.

Her husband, my great great grandfather, was a soldier in the Civil War. He was captured by the Union about 20 miles from where I live now, about a year before the war ended. He was a POW until the end of the war.

My 6th great grandfather, on the other side of my family, was an immigrant from France. He moved here when he was about 14 or so. He went on to fight in the Revolution, and was one of George Washington's Personal Guards. He fought at Bunker Hill, where he was injured.

I'm so very proud of my heritage.

I've learned more about "history" from researching my ancestry, than I learned in school!