Mayflower time

Long day for me. This is not nearly as much fun without my sister.  I feel like I am sitting around talking to myself.

I have embarked on my annual look at our family history. You know how it is hard to look away from a bad accident, even though you don't want to see the gore?  That's kind of the way I feel.

We are descended from two of the Mayflower passengers. When I discovered that in our family tree, I was horrified.  We are from those people who sought religious freedom, came here, established a colony, then began torturing and murdering anyone who believed anything different.  We are from the people who accepted help from the First Nation, then ran them out of their own home.

The history really upsets me.

But I was reading a little about our foremother and forefather. She was the only child who survived. She was 13.  Her parents and her aunt and uncle all died in the first year. So she was adopted by the governor.  He and his wife also died, so she became the ward of the governor's secretary. Later, at age 16, she married him. He was about 30.  They had 10 children, and have the most living descendants of all the Mayflower passengers.

I wonder about being all alone in a strange place, being in a position where she had to marry someone much older at a very young age. About being given into his care at a young age.  I wonder about her lack of choices. Did she want to come to the colonies?  Would anyone have listened to a girl child in those days?  I wonder if any of that is still left streaming through our genes...

I think about the fortitude of these people and I am impressed.  But their religious fervor, their close-minded assurance that they are the only correct religion in the world appalls me.

And you know what else really bothers me?  Forefather is a word, but foremother is underlined by the spell check - not a real word.

It is late. I am going to be so tired in the morning.

Thinking of you in the sunny southwest.

Sending lots of love.

Clare