Saturday, February 25, 2006

The Ancestors

My father-1937

The wine sank lower and the talk turned to our daddehs.

"Did you know that John's father was a fighter pilot in WWII?" Mike asks. "He shot down a lot of enemy planes. His name is even in a history book."

"Well," I said. "My dad is in a history book, too."

"Which one?" Mike asks.

"The Manhattan Project," I reply.

"WHAT? You're kidding!" Mike kneels in homage. He kisses my ring. "That is so freaking cool!"

"Oh, he was just a very very junior engineer," I murmur modestly. "He probably fetched coffee for the big shots."

"Still awesome," whispers Mike. "Seriously, that is neat."

"And my father in law fought in the Pacific and sent radio messages for General Douglas McArthur," I brag.

I carry the name of heroes. I carry the name of people who danced through South Carolina history distinguishing themselves with their grace, intelligence, fortitude, and humor.

"The entire town of Edgefield mourns the death of Tolliver Cleveland Norris," reads an obitutary from one hundred years ago. "His uproarious humor enlivened many a tedious session of the South Carolina legislature." Wow, Tolliver. I wish I could have met you. But if you insisted on a DNA test before hugging your great great grandniece, I'd be SOL.

I don't carry their blood.

My paternal grandmother's family owned half of Cha'ston, (Charleston) so I hear. Great Grandfather Jagar gave each of his children a house in Charleston for their 21st birthday. I have the deed for my grandmother-dated 1919. Sadly (weeping copious tears here) Grandmother sold it long ago. We found the deed, and a huge box of pictures dating from 1870, when we cleaned out my aunt's house last year.

The Jagars took lots of pictures of themselves, and a nice looking bunch they are. But you know what? I don't feel a thing except awe at the beautiful clothes and fancy carriages. I feel no real connection with anybody in the family who died before I knew them personally.

I don't carry their blood.

My children are Chinese and were yanked from the country where their bloodlines go back to a time before America was a twinkle in the eye of the white man.

What are they going to think about their adopted ancestors? I seriously doubt if they'll feel much of a connection.

It makes me sad knowing that even my dad, a laughing, living presence to me, is going to be nothing to them but a picture in a frame.

These thoughts were far from my head as I filled out the paperwork eight years ago to create a family not from blood...

but from ink. Posted by Picasa

3 comments:

Prom said...

That's why people go looking for their roots - that connection (not love but a different form of belonging). It is to see where the blood and genes play out in themselves.

It isn't a betrayal of the family that loves them because it is a differnt thing altogether.

I bet your daughters would appreciate it if you gathered what you could about their biology while it is still current and possible to do so.

I suspect it will also make it easier for them if you recognize and let them know that you know the difference between the love/family/nurture connection and the biological one so that they don't feel bad satisfying their curiosity later on when they are older and want to know.

Dee said...

My dad died in November, just as we were finishing up our paperchase. And I cry everytime I think about how my daughter will never know how much he would have adored her. My hope is, that in some small way, I can make him real to her. I know it won't be the same as a biological connection to her roots, but given the current sitution and lack of information on birthfamilies in China, it may be the best we'll be able to do.

Felice Luftschein said...

But the connection is not blood, that is a fallacy. The connection is that you learned how to think, act and speak from them. They learned it from their parents, and so on, only to be broken by premature deaths and other human failings.

put another way,

We ascribe inherited behaviour to blood because that seems the easiest answer, but when you are raised by someone for the first 14-18 years of your life, and spend time around them after that, you learn from their experiences, and you learn to perceive reality as they have.

The unfortunate term is "meme", but the idea has much merit.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meme

 
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