Beautifully done, Jan. Thank you for articulating what I’ve grappled with the last ten years. Family are those people who want the best for me based on who I am rather than who they think I should be. And vice versa. You are my family, and I am so grateful.
I discuss an excerpt from Patricia Hampl's memoir of searching for ancestors in Czechoslovakia in the 1970s. She decided, on a whim, to crumple up the slip of paper with the name of her ancestral village and instead define her Czech identity through life in Prague and through friends she met there. I don't think it has to be a zero sum choice of bloodline or national identity, but I personally want to know where my people come from and who they might have been.
I have not yet written about my visits to ancestral villages -- that is still percolating -- but one thing that struck me was the Czech custom of replacing grave plots when a family stopped paying the lease. I did a lot of research before coming here and knew the birth/death dates and the places where people would have been buried. These were small cemeteries in small villages. But I found none of the names. Why? Because everyone emigrated or died off, and no one was left to pay the lease. And so my ancestors' bones are likely resting beneath the remains of other families in every one of these graveyards. I suppose it's possible to zoom out and think that I am part of the larger Czech family, or the even larger friend family, or the human family. But those people that made me are still important, whether they were jerks or sweethearts, and I wanted to stand over their graves and pay my respects, and feel that I'd found a point of origin across the four generations that have separated us. I'm still trying to make sense of what it means that I couldn't find them -- even though I found the houses where they lived and was welcomed warmly by the people now living there -- but I don't think the answer will be that family ties don't matter or that they'll always be a part of me no matter what. Something precious was lost when those names disappeared from the cemetery. I suppose it illustrates the elusiveness of origins and the imperative of defining identity on our own terms. Yet as a father, I want bloodline to matter for my children. In fact, I took this trip in part so I could tell them what none of my elders could tell me.
By the way, I took Latin in high school and college- best classes I ever took! I still clearly remember my Latin teacher in high school- a great teacher!
Lovely, Jan. You are fortunate to have a number of close friends. And there are many different ways we have or make family- the possibilities are endless as they say.❤️
Beautifully done, Jan. Thank you for articulating what I’ve grappled with the last ten years. Family are those people who want the best for me based on who I am rather than who they think I should be. And vice versa. You are my family, and I am so grateful.
This one's great Jan! Heartwarming pictures and such moving content. Glad you've been able to chose a family that loves you and you love back!
Diverse
Broad
Encompassing
Progressive
Well said. I wrote about this recently, as I'm presently traveling in Prague and just spent the past weekend exploring family origins in Moravia. https://joshuadolezal.substack.com/p/why-i-am-searching-for-family-roots
I discuss an excerpt from Patricia Hampl's memoir of searching for ancestors in Czechoslovakia in the 1970s. She decided, on a whim, to crumple up the slip of paper with the name of her ancestral village and instead define her Czech identity through life in Prague and through friends she met there. I don't think it has to be a zero sum choice of bloodline or national identity, but I personally want to know where my people come from and who they might have been.
I have not yet written about my visits to ancestral villages -- that is still percolating -- but one thing that struck me was the Czech custom of replacing grave plots when a family stopped paying the lease. I did a lot of research before coming here and knew the birth/death dates and the places where people would have been buried. These were small cemeteries in small villages. But I found none of the names. Why? Because everyone emigrated or died off, and no one was left to pay the lease. And so my ancestors' bones are likely resting beneath the remains of other families in every one of these graveyards. I suppose it's possible to zoom out and think that I am part of the larger Czech family, or the even larger friend family, or the human family. But those people that made me are still important, whether they were jerks or sweethearts, and I wanted to stand over their graves and pay my respects, and feel that I'd found a point of origin across the four generations that have separated us. I'm still trying to make sense of what it means that I couldn't find them -- even though I found the houses where they lived and was welcomed warmly by the people now living there -- but I don't think the answer will be that family ties don't matter or that they'll always be a part of me no matter what. Something precious was lost when those names disappeared from the cemetery. I suppose it illustrates the elusiveness of origins and the imperative of defining identity on our own terms. Yet as a father, I want bloodline to matter for my children. In fact, I took this trip in part so I could tell them what none of my elders could tell me.
I love this.
By the way, I took Latin in high school and college- best classes I ever took! I still clearly remember my Latin teacher in high school- a great teacher!
Lovely, Jan. You are fortunate to have a number of close friends. And there are many different ways we have or make family- the possibilities are endless as they say.❤️
I still find it hilarious that you and Mr. Grunst are pals. 3 years of Latin with that guy and I have no idea how I passed.
Stay well my friend.
Jan those where beautiful.