Originally posted 04 March 2011

Sitting at my daddy’s knees as a young child, listening to him tell tales of his life growing up in the early nineteen hundreds and of family heritage from the Cape Cod family to the America Indian line was a favorite pastime. He had a real knack for bringing the stories to life having learned about his ancestry from his parents in the most natural way possible. You see, from a young age, his job in the mornings was to be out of bed before anyone else in order to build the fire in the cook stove. His mother met him in the kitchen where he helped cook breakfast while Grandma told him about these things. Grandpa, a carpenter by trade, started Daddy helping him as soon as he was old enough to tote and fetch adding his own stories to the long list Daddy was storing in his head and heart. Never doubting the stories for truth, years later I discovered how accurate they were; at least all but the one about an ancestor that changed his last name we have been unable to prove or disprove.



Author: Pamela K. Young

I have not only lived many chapters in one life, but many lives in one body. The person I am today is far wiser than the me of young adulthood. My life is like your life with its ebb and flow. We are all connected in some way. I am a wife, mother, and grandmother, but what makes me, well, me is the way I wife, mother, and grandmother. I am a liver transplant survivor. Whatever devastation you have survived, we survived in our individual ways. I create with words and photos. I am a writer and photographer.

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