This journey into the past began in June 2006 when Mom presented me with Aunt
Rose's doll that is over 110 yrs old. She began telling me stories and to say I
was intrigued is an understatement. I made Mom an actual Family History
Scrapbook full of stories, actual obituaries,restored photographs,
Immigration records,naturalization papers,and prayer cards .This has been alot
of work, but a labor of love. Very surprised to discover that I am a direct descendant of the
French Royal Family! Charlemagne is my 38th great grandfather ,Marie Antoinette is my 5th great
aunt! I'm a direct descendent of the Mayflower,and my tree is full of hard working, wonderful ship
builders from Scotland who made their way to Prince Edward Island, farmers of the rich soil in
Ireland, and a Mic Mac Indian for a great great grandmother ! I LOVE and am PROUD of ALL my
I'd like to thank all those who provided me with so many dates, especially all
my wonderful relatives on Prince Edward Island. In particular: Irene Burge who
penned the marvelous book called " The Burdge Family History",John MacIsaac of
NY for sending me 854 pages of my heritage in a matter of seconds,and Gene
Stoddard for giving me numerous photos of my extended family.
Its been a pleasure reconnecting with family, especially Jerry Dolan who shares
my enthusiasm in this effort and who gave me some GREAT ideas!,and Mary
Vaillancourt who is just such a delight to be around,and lets me invite myself
over to hear her stories of my Grandpa Patrick with that Irish lilt to her
Thank you to my beautiful Mommy for schelping all over cemeteries with me, and
to Barry Gates for all his help with various research for things I'd never have
been able to find on my own.
Thank you all for everything and if I'm missing anything TELL ME!!!!
Please remember this is a continuing work in progress.
Love, Pattie xo
*** ~ *** STRANGERS IN THE BOX *** ~ ***
Come, look with me inside this drawer,
In this box I've often seen,
At the pictures, black and white,
Faces proud, still, serene.
I wish I knew the people,
These strangers in the box,
Their names and all their memories
Are lost among my socks.
I wonder what their lives were like.
How did they spend their days?
What about their special times?
I'll never know their ways.
If only someone had taken time
To tell who, what, where, when,
These faces of my heritage
Would come to life again.
Could this become the fate
Of the pictures we take today?
The faces and the memories
Someday to be tossed away?
Make time to save your pictures,
Seize the opportunity when it knocks,
Or someday you and yours could be
The strangers in the box.
*** ~ *** DEAR ANCESTOR *** ~ ***
Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.