I thought this would give you all cause to think...it came over one of
my lists, and is extremely relevant; I apologize for the multiply posts.
>>
I have been getting many requests from the different
lists to re-post an
article that was posted last year at this time. Bless you all.
Giving Thanks: Our Ancestors....How Much We Love Them!
While doing research on my family lines, I have come to notice the age
of the people of this country. The life span seemed to be fairly short.
The majority of the people that I see as heads of the household are from
23 to 45. There are very few in their 60's and 70's. During the ten to
twelve years before the Civil War our country seemed to be what we
consider today as "young adults" as head of a household. Before that
the lives of these people were extremely busy with land, farming and
raising their families and this was taking it's toll on the young men
and women of that time because it was unbearably hard work for the
farmers and their families. The people that were able to buy land and
invest and be active in the business end of society were marking off
their days on this earth as was the farmer and his wife were without
even knowing it. Life itself was taking it's toll of these bright,
diligent, energetic people. They, for the most part would all be dead
before they reached the age of 50. For an eager nation to grow it took
many miles of road, tunnels, ore, railroads, food, crops for clothing,
livestock, trees, oil and so many other natural resources and various
occupations to supply the needs of it's people. They lived hard lives,
even if it was with a suit of clothes and a tie, shirts with fancy cuffs
and collars or rough-woven durable fabric for the laborers of various
trades and livelyhoods, the pace was hard and fast and worrisome. Most
of those that you see listed in the census reports in their 60's, 70's
or 80's through the 1860 census, were just stronger, healthier and
blessed with longer lives.
After the Civil War there were fewer young men on the census reports.
Most were in their 40s and 50s, some maimed, some crippled, some blind
and many that were strong and healthy in 1861, were spent in the few
years that the war lasted. They came home old men in the conditions of
their bodies and many never regained their health to support their
families by being able to carry the whole load of maintaining their
farms or trades. The sons of those men learned early how to till and
seed the ground, when to harvest, how to manage the few dollars they had
or how to present themselves to borrow on next year's crop before they
were 18 years old. The tradesmen had an advantage over the farmer when
it came to his sons being able to carry on their work, crafty small
hands learned quickly the art of making clothes, shoes and sewing the
leathers for boots, belts, vests, saddles etc. before they were 12. But
the farmer and the blacksmith and the waggoneer and the lumberman had to
hire help until their sons were strong enough to maintain the balance of
the load for their fathers. It was too hard for an 8 year old to lift
wheels, fell trees, use an anvil, and control the horses and oxen and
mules that were needed for those jobs. However, their little minds of
boys 5 and 6 years old when their fathers came home from the war were
keen and open and eager to learn. And learn they did, just as fast and
furiously as they could, and they did what they could until their bodies
caught up to their mental experience and were able to put all their
knowledge into practice.
Those young boys that had to learn from their older family members;
uncles, cousins, grandparents if they were still there for them, those
were the ones that had the hardest challenge.....their father's didn't
come home, their mother's couldn't hold up under the strain and the
daughters had to pitch in and learn the art of making bread, churning,
cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, sewing...whatever it took to be
there beside their brother or brothers if they were lucky enough to have
them and keep the family together and pushing on and on and on.
These wonderful people are our ancestors. These blessed, faithful,
loving, and yes, some have the occasional traits of hot tempered,
sweaty, foul mouthed...but they are our ancestors. These strong, weak,
frail, stubborn, rough skinned, white skinned, dark skinned, pampered or
leathery people are our ancestors. I am so proud of them. I love them
so much. I wish I could have known each and every one of them, touched
them, listened to them.....just stood in their shadow for a few minutes
because I'll guarantee you one thing, those shadows would have brought
me to my knees knowing how much it covered and what it meant to be a
part of their family.
I have stood and am now standing on their land. I have seen and touched
their trees and their homes. I have smelled their old pipes and snuff
jars, their handbags, powder boxes and handkerchiefs. I have felt their
old pocket watches, their knives, dishes, tools, jewelry, combs and
brushes. I have tried my best to take in what is left of their presence
and there is one thing that makes me cry with joy that I can hold it in
my hand and smell the sweet smell of the years everytime I open or
caress it, it smells of leather and ink and age, but it's never dusty or
used up....it's always there with warmth and peace and love....it's
their Bible. The one piece of their lives that reaches generation
after generation and is more loved each time it's given to the next,
it's the one part of them that they couldn't live without, they couldn't
read it, most of them, but it was there and they knew what it was
saying, they had learned that through the years from their parents and
their parents before them. Aren't ancestors marvelous. They make us
who we are; a mixture of proof that they had made their mark on the land
and it can never be erased. Thanksgiving, yes I give
thanks.....everyday.
Written at Smithville, OK., July 1996 where my Dad was born.
Lou Ann Phillips Lunsford