LOVING MY PAST

I remember it well.. just as if it was happening all over again.  Its the middle of the week and I'm about 14 or 15 years old. I'm sitting right next to my father, while visiting him during my spring break from school.  As we sat and talked, we somehow managed to start up a conversation about his father, (my grandfather) whom I've never known or ever seen pictures of.  It was like talking about some unknown person who you would see in a dream or some unknown character in a story book.  I was beginning to think that any discussion raised about of my ancestors was taboo, or perhaps it was just that we had never taken advantage of the opportunity to discuss them.

As our talks on the subject became more detailed over those memorable five days, I knew then that they were the most incredible and enjoyable lessons of our personal history I had ever encountered.  In short, I was hooked.  At the end of my stay and before returning back to my home in Miami, we both decided that on my next summer visit with him, I would write down on paper all the events and stories he would share.

Prior to my return the following year......, my father died.

Today, I have a family of my own, consisting of adult children from my first marriage and one teenager from my second time around.  Additonally, I also have one amazing grandson.

Recently, while talking with my teen daughter, about some behavioral changes in her math class, she and I also had some discussion about being grateful for all the things we as a family were blessed to have. I then told her about some of the disadvantages that I grew up with in an effort to make a comparison.

As I began to tell her about growing up in the "ghetto" and such, I suddenly noticed her facial expression and the look of total confusion on her face, as if she was saying, "Dad, what in the hell are you talking about?"

After all, she was born in the suburbs and had only heard about the ghetto via movies, tv, and my abstract way of painting the picture for her.  She literally was encapable of connecting the dots.

Suddenly, like the sound of a rushing and mighty wind; the clanking of large cymbals crashing together, the answer to this issue became apparently clear..... FIELD TRIP!!

We jumped into the car, and I gave her a personal tour of what and where it all began as I remembered it.  We traveled to the hospital where I was born; the diferent areas and houses I grew up and lived in; the schools I attended; as well as the areas and houses her sibblings grew up and shared together. The tour ended back to where life as she was most familiar with began... in the suburbs.

I have since, taken all of my children on this historical tour of my small life. To further enhance their mini- travels back into our families ancestrial past, I also invested in a genealogical program that has helped to fill in all the gaps. The program introduces them to family members, places and events, that would otherwise be presented and recieved by them, much like an unsubstantiated old folks tale.  But, with the help of an online version, I'm able to invite and educate my family members irregardless of where they may reside in the world. 

As I reflect back on the gift my father attemped to shared with me before his death, I truly understand how important it is for families everywhere to build incredible and lasting relationships, even if through the most difficult of times.  Here's what I know...

Don't wait until its to late.. to make a love connection of your own.