About My Days

Whiteley Creek, Greene County, Pennsylvania

My mother and father were children of the Depression, growing up on family farms in Greene County, Pennsylvania and Mecklenburg County, Virginia.  Both sets of grandparents started married life in town, supporting growing families with jobs that were consumed by the economic crisis, and both families retreated to a “home farm.” How did they come to have this choice?  Who first owned those fields and how was it that my grandparents came to hold them?  This site seeks to answer these questions, and succeeds in mostly generating new, more complicated ones.

Nonetheless I fill my days with the research and wondering that comes with following these ancestors:

  • DODSON family of Mecklenburg County, Virginia
  • SAYLES family of Allegany County, New York/Mecklenburg County, Virginia
  • STRICKLAND family of Wake/Nash Counties, North Carolina
  • MINOR family of Greene County, Pennsylvania
  • BRADFORD family of Coshocton/Muskingum County, Ohio

The investigations don’t stop at genealogical connect-the-dots reports.  Family relationships, occupations and land transactions are interpreted in their larger context; in particular I am interested in the choices and decisions of my mid-nineteenth century folks.

  • How did the escalating conflict over slavery affect family dynamics?
  • What roles were women allowed to create during and after the Civil War?  Were these opportunities different for women in different regions?
  • How were the families touched by the conscription/enlistment of their men?
  • What positions did my ancestors hold regarding racial equality and how did they perceive reconstruction?
  • How did the families respond to the changing role of the federal government?

If you have family history to share or questions to ponder, I’d love to hear from you!  Please feel free to contact me at dkaysdays (at symbol) gmail (dot symbol) com. 😉

Recent Posts

A Family Tree Can Provide More Than Shade

wood-nature-leaves-tree.jpgI think most of us who succumb to the genealogical fever scramble to collect names and dates, and align them in some order.  Bits and bobs of family history hang from stout lines of inquiry, like leaves on a June sugar maple.

I want to spread a blanket over its roots, and linger in the shade of these ancestors, telling stories of prosperity and perseverance.  But when I look up into the Dodson-Rowlett-Green branches, I see what those leaves are blocking, what is providing the shadowed comfort of family tales.

The light of ingenuity and survival contains the stolen humanity of enslaved people.

I can feel their presence, though I may never know more than an age, sex, or first name.  And I feel impelled to reframe my family’s progress and reputation, to fully account for their choices and the impact that those choices had on their children, neighbors, community, and on the very ideals of a developing democracy.

I am climbing my family tree, again, adding leaves and uncovering roots that go well beyond my known kin.  I wonder what I will learn when I step out of its shade.

 

 

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