Family Reunion

Family estrangement is the most solid family tradition I was raised with. I knew very little of extended family during my 16 years with my birth clan. I was raised "Irish," but my blood is mostly German. Ostracation is a common German practice. All the German mothers in my family tree were estranged from their birth families. According to my father, they were ostracized for marrying Irish.

I didnae challenge that family tradition much until 2005 (age 51) when my father died. I had to pass through the region where he and my mother were raised anyway, so I volunteered to see if I could find any of my father's large family to let them know of his passing. I didn't find any, but I did find members of my mother's family who enthusiastically helped me search. My father's entire clan seemed to have evaporated like water on hot asphalt. The stories my mother's siblings tell of the estrangement are far different from the ones my parents told me. Big surprise, huh? I already know I don't trust my parental version. I am afraid to do the research on how far I can trust her family's version. For sure, I have insufficient data to trust it on their word, alone. I have had some interaction with them since 2005, but I have store clerks I know more personally. For sure, it was as easy as falling off a log to see clues of the mean prejudices my parents spoke of during my childhood. The 21st century rendition of those stories can be found in the "Toxic People" literature. Let's hear it for throw-away logic! Don't fix it. Toss it.

There is a reunion of my mother's family in the parental home town this weekend, less than 300 miles from my current camp site. I still haven't RSVP'd, but am giving thought to crashing the party. Still chewing and waffling like a college sophomore.

I still have one more night in the contract for my current camp site, but there are strong rain chances for tonight. I hate packing wet gear. My inclination of the moment is to go ahead and pack up today and find a motel room for tonight. Again, we see what grows. Prayers in progress. Letting God lead the dance. I hope. My psychosis does an amazing imitation of God's Voice. It is REALLY hard to distinguish between the two.