As a young child, I remember the droning sound of rubber tires speeding down the highway toward the distant home of seldom-seen relatives. As the car rolled into the driveway, the last minute instructions to “mind your manners” and “act like a lady” were nearly forgotten as soon as I heard the booming voice of my great aunt, Aunt Louise. I could hardly believe the noisy shouts of glee; the pressing squeeze of hugs and the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. I remember with fondness the fun and mischief of reunited cousins. Warm memories such as these often cause me to wonder why we live so far away from one another?
For a kid confined to the backseat of the car and too short to see out the windows, the drive seemed as though it would never end! I have come a long way (literally)—nearly 160,000 family-history-related air miles—since that 172-mile drive to Aunt Louise and Uncle Emmett’s home. Today, the speed and convenience of modern technology eases the pangs of separation, but what of our ancestors? When they said "good-bye" it often meant they would never see one another again! Though that thought nearly breaks my heart, it also gives me cause to wonder. What factors pushed or pulled them far away from their homeland and loved ones? What gave them courage and motivation to sail expansive oceans, cross dry deserts, and climb treacherous mountain passes to a new land of promise? Without the convenience of modern-day technology, how did families remain in contact with one another, or did they? My research experience, though narrow in scope, provides a few answers to these questions. It also highlights the universality of human emotion and need. We all need and want a safe environment in which to live, where there is food enough to eat, shelter from the elements, and if possible opportunities for the next generation to excel. As family historians and researchers, acknowledging these important concepts will often help us understand and more accurately follow the migration patterns of our ancestors.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I will share what I have learned about archival research and Spanish emigration patterns from northern Spain. I was surprised by the research results. Check back regularly to read about my interesting and insightful discoveries.
For a kid confined to the backseat of the car and too short to see out the windows, the drive seemed as though it would never end! I have come a long way (literally)—nearly 160,000 family-history-related air miles—since that 172-mile drive to Aunt Louise and Uncle Emmett’s home. Today, the speed and convenience of modern technology eases the pangs of separation, but what of our ancestors? When they said "good-bye" it often meant they would never see one another again! Though that thought nearly breaks my heart, it also gives me cause to wonder. What factors pushed or pulled them far away from their homeland and loved ones? What gave them courage and motivation to sail expansive oceans, cross dry deserts, and climb treacherous mountain passes to a new land of promise? Without the convenience of modern-day technology, how did families remain in contact with one another, or did they? My research experience, though narrow in scope, provides a few answers to these questions. It also highlights the universality of human emotion and need. We all need and want a safe environment in which to live, where there is food enough to eat, shelter from the elements, and if possible opportunities for the next generation to excel. As family historians and researchers, acknowledging these important concepts will often help us understand and more accurately follow the migration patterns of our ancestors.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I will share what I have learned about archival research and Spanish emigration patterns from northern Spain. I was surprised by the research results. Check back regularly to read about my interesting and insightful discoveries.
