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"In all of
us there is a hunger, marrow deep,
to know our
heritage, to know who we are,
and where we
have come from.
Without this
enriching knowledge,
there is a
hollow yearning;
no matter what
our attainments in life,
there is the
most disquieting loneliness."
--Alex Haley
He alone
deserves to be
remembered by
his children
who treasures
up and preserves
the memory of
his fathers.
--Edmund Burke
Behold the Work
of the Old...
Let your
Heritage not be lost,
But bequeath it
as a Memory,
Treasure and Blessing...
Gather the lost
and the hidden
and preserve it
for thy Children.
--Christian Metz |
What profit
pedigree or long descents
From fore fetcht blood, or painted monuments
Of our great grandsire's visage? 'Tis most sad
To trust unto the worth another had
For keeping up our fame; which else would fall,
If, besides birth, here be no worth at all.
For, who counts him a gentleman whose grace
Is all in name, but otherwise is base?
Or who will honour him that's honour's shame,
Noble in nothing but a noble name?
It's better to
be meanly born and good,
Than one unworthy of his noble blood: Though all thy walls shine with thy pedigree,
Yet virtue only makes nobility.
Then, that this pedigree may useful be
Search out the virtues of your family;
And to be worthy of your father's name,
Learn out the good they did, and do the same:
For, if you bear their arms, and not their fame,
Those ensigns of their worth will be your shame.
--Old Latin Verses
Burke's "Patrician", iii, 63-64. |
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You do not have
to be your mother unless she is who
you want to be.
You do not have to be your mother's
mother, or your mother's mother's mother,
or even your grandmother's
mother on your father's
side. You may
inherit their chins or their hips or
their eyes, but
you are not destined to become the
women who came
before you.
You are not
destined to live their lives. So if you
inherit
something, inherit their strength, their
resilience.
Because the only person you are destined
to become is
the person you decide to be.
--Author Anonymous |
DEAR ANCESTOR
Your tombstone
stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On the faded, mossy stone.
It reaches out
to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us
are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor,
the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you
lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.
--Author Unknown |
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