Grocery Line Lineage

Jan 15

This is a great reference point on why it’s important to know your personal history; Why It’s Important That We Study History (Arcadia Publishing).

Setting the scene.

Recently I was in line at the grocery store. It was about 15 minutes until closing and everyone was anxious to get out of there. I was third in line, two men talking amongst themselves almost oblivious to the rest of us and in front of them an aged man (I believe Korean). The Korean man was attempting to make small talk with the cashier, saying something about it being the 2nd time he saw her today… he keeps running out of food. There is a Korean restaurant in the same plaza— it’s been a good day.

She snarled at him. Paying, he gathered his items and left the store — he wasn’t out of the door (although I’m sure never heard her) when she mumbled that he should just go back to his own country. Looking support for her behavior from the two men she was now waiting on… they hadn’t been paying her any mind and still weren’t.

Remembering Who The Natives Are

Meanwhile, my blood was boiling. How can people, Europeans (actually) be so rude? Have they forgotten where they came from? Obviously.

Maybe it’s my desire to understand all people, maybe it’s my humbleness. I have always identified with the underdog. This woman trying to catch a glimpse of importance found her match approaching and she didn’t see it coming. Still in thought about the Korean man she was shaking her head, when I made the first move towards small talk.

“I didn’t know you were Native American” clearly she was not. I could have left it there, it had flown over her head — but with my witty sense of humor I continued. The scoured look resurfaced on her face and in a pleasant tone she said “I’m not”.

“So you’re not really American?” I asked. She caught the wave now — she said yes, I’m American. The conversation went back and forth a little until she could understand that we’re all not really Americans but America is about accepting all peoples. Shuttered at my insane sense of humor she said, “I talk English that’s all I’m saying, if you can’t talk English you shouldn’t be here…”, my few items were ready for me — the last words I uttered as my heart was racing “imagine where you’d be if they never let your ancestors into this country”.

Historical Context

Understanding where we come from is important to all of us.

In the ongoing global conversations people often ask where I’m from, beyond America. Most unbelievable to people outside of America is that they can’t imagine not knowing your lineage. For many years now the question had lingered in my mind… where do I come from?

In America our ancestors left oppression for something better, for future generations. These people, for the most part — would never go home. Can you imagine what that was like? Imagine never hearing the voice of anyone you’ve ever known, again. Imagine travelling into the unknown, not knowing what will befall you at any step of the way. Imagine the tenacity of a persons will to keep moving forward.

My research has provided a lot of understanding to the type of people I come from but more than that I’ve learned quite a lot of history regarding my ancestral roots… the mind of the people may not have been documented but if we examine the historical content we can gain a clearer insight into the culture of that day.

Gravitational Pull

Have you ever been exposed to a story, whether through family, friends or in a book that you could identify with so well that you felt it pulling you from the depths of your soul? In my journey, which has lasted about 17 years, I have felt that pulling, a familiar that clenches on to the very core of my being encapsulating my soul in a sphere of Love. Finding the vein to which I’ve always belonged, is like a path I’ve been destined to walk.

I always had a hard time fitting in, but at the same time could always adapt to my environment. While on the surface it appeared that I was well connected, oftentimes I felt deeper connections to be aloof. There haven’t been many people in my life that question what they are told. For the most part, people just take hold of some information and it becomes their identify without as much as researching much about it. How can I connect with someone who doesn’t use their mind? When we get down to it, all that we are is our minds.

I grew up not knowing much about my family history with the exception of my Maternal Grandmother. You see I’m third generation American from my Maternal Grandmothers, Father and forth from his wife. That resonated in my family — it was the only verifiable proof of any historical context. My Great Grandfather whom I would never meet came to America around the age of 22 and he came from Poland.

Poland was not stable in the years of his life and he was selected as the only person in his family to come to America.

He arrived in Ellis Island in 1914, an entire world of possibilities at his fingertips, not speaking much English and not knowing a soul. I’ve come to learn about the perseverance of the people in my lineage. I’ve come to appreciate the use of our mind — to think outside of what we see, for what we see is often an illusion.

My Great Grandfather lived a simple life, he kept his head low and continued to fight through the thick of life for me, he didn’t know me –sure — but what else could possess a man to go through such lengths if not for those that would come after him? I pressed forward trying to unravel the mystery.

My Mothers Fathers side of the family had roots from England and had been living in America for a couple of hundred years — they were engineers and politicians; they were creative thinkers pledged to keep the human mind capable and stout. Good people who lived life with open hands, what they were blessed with — they would bless others with. Finding my identity in the roots of my Mother proved to be an easy task. The lineage is filled with industrialist and businessmen. Tracing us back to England, of which we have a coat of arms and come from royalty.

It was just recently that I started to uncover the mysteries of my Fathers Irish roots. More interesting for me, wasn’t the Irish/English roots of his Father but rather my Paternal Maternal side. My Grandmothers lineage is of Hungarian/Slovakian which eventually uncovered my Jewish roots. Upon telling my dad, he was in disbelief, as no one he ever knew acknowledged this religion. I discovered a family who was engrossed in learning, writers and judges and even a few philosophers. It appears my constant discussion about religion isn’t something new.

Conclusion

It’s a beautiful thing to know where we come from, to understand the struggles of those before makes the struggles we face a little more bearable. In my 20-years of chatting online and getting to know many people from the east, envious of their historical content and their culture — I too have a firm foundation.

Marturia Moody