She Ain't Heavy, She's Like a Little Brother
I.M. Tired, But You Can Call Me Bro[o]ke!

Life in the Past Lane

Bradi and Great-GrandmotherMy twin brother and our great grandmother in Hungary 1966

I've been researching my family tree for quite a while, now -- around the same time I started blogging, actually -- and it's all my mother-in-law's fault.

My getting hooked on genealogy, I mean (HI MOM!) she reads my blog, sometimes.

Thompsons have fought in the American Revolution, helped bury victims from the Titanic on the shores of Nova Scotia, my mother-in-law's brother was one of the original Flying Tigers during WWII and they've went as far back as tracing their lines to the early 1600's.

Me?

I've traced as far back as my parent's great-grandparents and, well, um, that's it. 

Considering most of Eastern Europe was cut up and passed around like a bad cheese pizza, it's difficult to pinpoint a particular town when it's been renamed half a dozen times, in several different languages.

Not to mention, the majority of my mother's ancestors were nomads:  they married, moved and birthed their babies, while working as serfs, in some border town, spelled with way too many consonants...BAM!...head meet brick wall.

Still, I'm thankful to have been able to gather information from my grandmother, before she passed away, 8 years ago, this month.

Now she was a really great story teller.

One of my favorites was the time my great grandmother asked her to borrow a couple of eggs from the local shaman, who asked my grandmother to wait, while she gathered the eggs into a basket in the next room. 

My grandmother heard a sort of chanting from behind the door, peeked into the key hole and watched as the shaman twirled each egg in front of a mirror.

She told my great grandmother who, figuring the shaman was angered from a previous family dispute and must have put a spell on the eggs, promptly tossed them out into the backyard, basket and all.

So, the other day, I cracked an egg and...GASP!!!!!...right there...in the middle of the yolk...a red spot!

Yes, it's probably a broken blood vessel (or, something) I threw it out anyway.

Superstitious much?  Why, YES!!  Still, you NEVER know. 

Aaaand, there was that one lady at the farmer's market, she looked sort of p'od, after I accidentally grabbed her cart, instead of mine.

What?!? I was sort of in a hurry and her purse may or may not have been sitting in it, too.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

When it comes to bad JuJu, we Hungarians roll like that, thankyouverymuch!

© 2003 - 2011 This Full House

I'm NaBloPoMo-ing it, this month (first time NaBloPoMo-er) feel free to check out what I've NaBloPoMo-ed, thus far (PHEW!) and let me know how I'm doing (I mean, 30 posts, in 30 days, really?!?) when you have time, of course!

© 2003 - 2011 This Full House

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