It was the music. It always stops me. I never dared speak my thoughts aloud. To say I somehow knew the roots of my heritage without knowledge or proof simply by the call of music sounds crazy, mystical.
Celtic music finds my ears and something stirs. Something I cannot name is pricked and I drift to a place I’ve never been.
So I began to wonder if my instincts were true, if what draws me to Celtic sounds is more than just a love of music.
As I started cleaning out closets I found pages of family history my mother began taking down years ago. Previews of the new season of Who Do You Think You Are began. My curiosity could not remain quiet any longer.
My quest to research and map out my ancestry began. (As if I really need another hobby.)
The search becomes a bit addictive as you begin the tracing. Using Ancestry.com I begin building my tree, adding names thanks to my mother’s notes from years ago. Almost immediately census records appear. Piece after piece is added. A small fact of each of their lives now known.
I tell my dad I want to trace our origins back to Europe. I never mention my suspicions of Ireland or Scotland. He seems to suddenly remember his own father mentioning Ireland. Never mentioning my instincts, I keep searching.
I did not have to wait long. Within three days I have confirmation.
And the story of how that confirmation finds its way to me? Well it’s a pretty cool story. One I will share in my next post.
