Every 7 years all of our cells are replaced. We are new every 7 years. But somehow the DNA hangs around.
So part of me is:
- Great-Great-Grandfather Jessie Morgan who left his wife in Ohio and took a covered wagon to California:
- Great Aunt Maude who ate standing up at the sink and never allowed shoes to touch the fabric of her sofa;
- Great Grandmother Hattie Morgan, who taught school and was proud that every boy she taught came back alive from the Civil War and lived long enough to see her fondest dream–the vote for women;
- William Bassett, the upright up-tight Pilgrim from Plymouth;
- and a very large part of me is non-nonsense, hard working Grandma Vera Stout Anderson, for whom I was named.
These and more ancestors are part of my life as much as my own three sons and my grandchildren. Most of them would be surprised at my life–but some would understand the urge to travel. Like many of my footloose ancestors, I wandered from the land where I grew up–Ohio to a new western location–Arizona.
Those ancestors liked to share their thoughts, so they would approve of my writing career. I think that Jessie Morgan would have had a blog, if he could have carried a laptop on the covered wagon. And of course, they all were interested in growing, cooking, serving and eating…food.
Like my cells, I like to shake things up every few years, so now I have Ancestors In Aprons, a place to talk about my forebears and food and the place both subjects have in my life.