I’m a researcher by nature… an analyst of sorts – I guess… I like the search… I like to look for answers or at the very least, more questions… I’m also prone to “information overload…” But somewhere in the gray matter of my brain is a photographic impression like a long chain… I can see it in my mind’s eye… It wraps around… twisting and turning… coming from a place I can’t see and then fades into a distant blur somewhere I’ve yet to be… As I take in information, hear a story, meet people… it begins to be shifted and sorted… connected by some invisible knowledge along that “chain.” It appears to me like a never-ending, winding road… more or less… with mile-markers… or maybe more like “century” markers… I’m not exactly sure. Family… acquaintances… events are linked by their relationship to one another and by where they “fit” along the journey.

I’ve always been fascinated by connections and was born with nostalgia in my blood. I’m the oldest child, of the oldest child, of the oldest child… and whether by luck or blessed with good genetics, when I was born, I still had a living great-great-grandmother, three great-grandfathers, four great-grandmothers and all my grandparents (three of those are still living). This has been like having a vast library that spans over a hundred years.

Somewhere along the journey, I realized that I have been a “keeper of stories”… a collector of history… a beneficiary of heritage… a gatherer of memories…

While I’m on that subject… I realize looking back that my Mamaw Olliefaye was the “carrier” of this legacy and passed on the curiosity to my father. Dad has a mind like a trap… he has forgotten more than most people remember. I think if I could see inside his mind, it might look a little similar to mine, but with a great deal more detail… but then again… he has lived 20 plus years longer than I have. He is my “go-to person” when I need a “name” or a detail from history. When his mother (my Mamaw) passed away, I volunteered to go through all her old papers, documents, and photos. She was definitely a “collector of memories.” I found interesting old letters from faithful friends in beautiful long-hand… periodicals and newspaper clippings… and of course, wonderful old photos. To show you the extent of her nostalgia, in the bottom of one of the boxes, I found three ration stamp booklets from WWII — One for each of them… Jack, Olliefaye, and baby Larry (my Dad). I understand her a little better now… her curiosity and interest in her family… and how we are all connected… one way or another.

The twist and turns of the lives of my ancestors have handed me a myriad of stories… but it has also led me on a journey to discover those parts of my “history” that were long lost. Missing pieces of the puzzle… gaps in the fence or for the sake of the metaphor, dead-end roads, and a few road-blocks… But those “dead-end road signs” just piqued my curiosity all the more… I NEEDED to find the way… the connection… the family… my family… our STORY…