Tags » ANCESTORS

As It Might Have Been: Ancestor Stories in the Dreamtime by Carol P. Christ

In the middle of the night in waking sleep, I asked my great-great grandmother Annie Corliss to tell me the story of how she met and married James Inglis. 1,732 more words

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Life in the Tenements by Carol P. Christ

During my ancestor research, I have seen the word “tenement”—with the implication of poverty, filth, and disease–handwritten onto more than one death certificate. Last month, I visited the Lower East Side where my Irish 2x great-grandmother Annie Corliss lived in the tenements near the docks with her husband the Scottish seaman James Inglis and their nine children. 920 more words

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Ancestor Connection in Williamsburg, Brooklyn by Carol P. Christ

In early December 2016 I visited central Williamsburg in Brooklyn, New York, where my 2x great-grandparents Thomas and Anna Maria Christ and their son George and his family, including my father’s father Irving John, lived for over fifty years. 1,499 more words

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Home

I describe one of my favorite runes, Othala, as being all the things that come up when one thinks of their home – it is a rune embodying the gifts of the ancestors, the immovable wealth that is our land, our inheritance, our history, and our bloodlines. 472 more words

Runes

Down on the Farm by Carol P. Christ

In the past week I visited Cherry Ridge, Honesdale, Wayne, Pennsylvania in the Pokonos, where I was welcomed by my third cousin Marcia Perry Gager whose family never left the place where our ancestors settled.  1,233 more words

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Mother Demdike, Ancestor of My Heart, Part 3 by Mary Sharratt

Continued from Part 1 and Part 2 When Bess was in her fifties, walking past the quarry at sunset—called daylight gate in her dialect—a beautiful young man emerged from the stone pit, his hair golden and shining, his coat half black, half brown. 1,610 more words

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Mother Demdike, Ancestor of My Heart, Part 1 by Mary Sharratt

Pendle Hill, seen from the back of my house, in May.

The Soul of Gaia is the numinous earth beneath my feet, her soil cradling the bones and the stories of the ancestors who have died into the land and become part of the ever-living spirit of the place. 1,345 more words

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