A Call

I understood I could be opening a Pandora’s box, but I never expected it could be such fun.When I realized there was a potential and interesting story about the maternal side of my family, I immediately began research with one of the many well advertised ancestry links.Now I must be absolutely honest. I do not research well, nor even close to well.

I love big pictures and am impatient with details of any kind.Consequently, this was not a labor of love, but one of necessity. Yet its tentacles have begun to quickly embrace me.

And now I am imprisoned with a potential narrative that is slowly evolving and allowing little bits of comprehension to escape The first mystery I hoped to solve involved my Dad’s older (Lost sheep) sister. It was a topic never discussed nor explained, but a paternal family tragedy that never was resolved,

As I grew older, my overactive imagination believed my Aunt’s sad (and never clarified) departure from her devoted family was due to a teenaged pregnancy. A not uncommon occurrence, but unfairly and cruelly scandalous during those long gone days.

However, and to my great surprise, I have now learned, my Aunt was Dad’s Irish Twin. ,Since that means my Father and his older sibling were born less than twelve months apart, my imagination was totally inaccurate.

Immediately learning this, I remembered my Aunt’s son (and only child) and I were precisely the same age Reading further, my research also confirmed Dad was 32 when he and my Mother married. I was born the following year.

It is now obvious since my cousin and I were (or are) the same age, his Mother had not been a teenaged Mother. The potential for a storyline has begun to grow faster than even my vivid imagination can follow. I then decided to make a few phone calls (escape the internet briefly) and determine if there were any other significant links to be found in the NYC church records.

The voice answering my phone call was automated,And I truly wondered if or when I would receive a response. Within minutes, however, my phone rang, and I heard a male voice slowly ask:

“How can I help? “This is Angel.” Well, of course, it wasn’t a response from the heavens, but for a brief second I wasn’t quite certain about that. Of course Angel is my new friend’s first name and not a title.

I know now that Pandora’s boxes are not only artifacts in Greek mythology, but also potentially more fun than I’ve had in many a day.