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Sleeping in my old bedroom is a lot of work. I'm horribly allergic to something here, and I was having a terrible time sneezing and coughing and tossing about until I finally got to sleep around dawn. I had a lot on my mind, and so I spent some time reading through my family history, which I'd really never known about until now.

Apparently i'm 13th generation, and I have connections to Boston, Rhode Island and Maine. All that New England Yankee stuff. Huh. There were several generations of shoemakers and shipwrights, and even some high-seas swashbuckling types peppered in there, too. Very strange. I always associated myself more with the other side of my family, the more recent immigrants.

I've managed to get through a small amount of my mom's things, but I found some of my own things that I can easily see my way clear to donate and recycle, so that's something, I suppose. I have a lot to do.


( 1 uh-oh — Make a mess )
Feb. 13th, 2002 05:24 am (UTC)
Rock on, pre-revolutionary Yankee soul sister! One of my ancestors was a Huguenot shoemaker who was resettled in Nova Scotia in 1752, and another one was killed by Indians in 1643 in what is now the Bronx.

( 1 uh-oh — Make a mess )