From: Jan, <A HREF="mailto:[email protected]">[email protected]</A> Beginnings (from the "Sunday Afternoon Rocking" series) "We will begin again". How many times would the words be said in a family? We can trace them back as far as we can trace and trace no more. And we can know those words were said since time began. Those words would have been spoken, or words very similar. Were those the words my fifth great grandparents spoke as they boarded a ship from Scotland and began the harrowing journey to America? Would they have stood arm in arm on a deck gazing across unending gray roiling waters, shivering, and wondering what was waiting? Would they have feared for their children in the hold below, and hoped only that the choice they made would yield a better life for those who could survive? Would the feeling in their hearts not be the same that so many of us have felt, in different times, under different circumstances, but making life choices just the same? "I will begin again." Were those the words an ancestor spoke when he fled the potato famine of Ireland? Would he have been so desperate that he little thought of what was waiting, and considered more the simple relief of running from a place that held nothing but emptiness? Or would he have believed the prevalent stories of the time, and thought of America as a place of richness with streets lined with gold for the claiming? Would the words "begin again" have had new meaning as he realized that the richness of America could only be realized with hard work and the resolution of a survivor? That must have been so, for I know his story, and he bent to pick no gold from the streets. Yet he survived. Were those the words another grandfather spoke when he indentured himself to come to the same country? He must have been a strong young man, sure of his capabilities to survive the hardships of indentureship he chose for himself, sure that he would be able to emerge from those years unscathed. And he would have seen the end of those years as his real beginning, would have clung to the date and memorized it, repeating it over and over like a mantra when times were hard. For this is what any human making his choice would have done. "We will begin again." Were those the words a Cherokee grandfather spoke when he left his homelands in North Carolina and shepherded his family into a white world? Were those the words other grandparents spoke to one another as the eastern shores became thicker and thicker with settlers, and the mountains to the west loomed with both dangers and promise? I suspect those words, or words very similar, have been said many times in a family. They would have been said always with a slight twinge of fear for the unknown, and always with a well of the hopefulness that is the legacy of all of mankind. They would have felt the same things we feel and have felt, each time we have begun again. This week my mother spoke of beginnings in the 1950's. "They thought we were crazy," she said, as she described how my father had left a lucrative job because he did not like it. It was the second time he had walked away from a life that would have made mine very different. He had walked from the ancestral farm knowing a living there would be hard to coax in the times that were coming. He had walked from a factory job in the city because it held no joy. He had taken a job at half the pay, and together with his young wife and new baby, they had ventured to a town where they knew no one, far from kinfolk, far from cultures they had known before. And all they had to their name was a new car that would take half their income each month to pay for. "They thought we were crazy," my Mama repeated, shaking her head. But "they" were wrong. We will never know how this family's lives may have turned out had other choices been made, but we know that the choices made led to a good life for all of them. Perhaps there was wisdom in the choices, perhaps there was an angel on their shoulders, whatever, but it turned out. My parents were young, younger than some of my own children are now. It is difficult to imagine how young they were, how lacking in the wisdom of life they would have been, yet I know it is true for I have long surpassed the age they were at the time. They had much to learn of life, and they were making permanent choices that would affect all of their life to come. They must have been fearful, and hope must have outweighed the fear. They had decided to begin. And I have decided to begin more than once. When one beginning waned to a hopeless ending, I would look around for another path, and choose another beginning. As all my ancestors have before me. And I suspect I have felt much the same feelings with each choice for a new beginning. As you have. As we all have. It is a time of new beginnings. And with the hope in our hearts that is the legacy of all mankind, with the angel on our shoulders that is ours to welcome, we will begin again many times over. Happy New Year to all, and may all of your beginnings be bright hopeful ones! jan Copyright ©2001, 2000JanPhilpot ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (Note: Afternoon Rocking messages are meant to be passed on, meant to be shared...simply share though e-mail as written without alterations...and in entirety. If planned for a publication, permission must be granted by the author. Please forward sufficient information concerning the nature and intent of the publication. Thanks, jan) Sunday Afternoon Rocking columns are distributed weekly on the list Sunday Rocking. This is not a "reply to" list, and normally only one message per week will come across it, that being the column. 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