I was drawing a blank on what to write about this week. Feeling just a little under the weather or something. But, since the main topic of conversation seems to be the weather I decided to find any older family photos that had snow in them. The first one is Grandma Jennie. I'm not sure where this is except it's a small town in Southwestern Kansas. They lived in Spearville and Fowler where my grandfather was a barber.
The next picture is Jennie's mother, Nellie, and five of her six children. That's my mom on the far right. She never did like having her picture taken but I imagine here she's wishing they'd hurry up and get the photo done so she could go inside.
So we have three generations. There are three more generations of girls and one boy since then. Think about it. That many generations in such a short amount of time: just over 100 years.
I just finished reading a fascinating book about writing historical fiction. In it, James Alexander Thom talks about how we are all part of a river of time. Nellie came to Kansas in a covered wagon and here she's pictured with her grandkids and a car. Her father was a stone mason and built the house behind them; block by block. My sister was born in that house and it is still standing as far as I know. My mom was the eldest of her generation and my sister was the eldest of her generation. They both saw the advent of television, microwaves and cell phones.
When you start putting your ancestors into the river of time they start becoming more real. The man who built this house was of the age to serve in the Civil War although for some reason he didn't. So think about that, I hugged a woman who had been hugged by someone from the time of the Civil War. Kind of puts it in a new perspective, doesn't it?
Where do your ancestors fit in to the river of time?