Where Did I Come From?

I have heart-wrenchingly few family heirlooms. I’m not talking here about valuable paintings, furniture or even jewellery. I am talking about having virtually nothing at all. Perhaps it’s because all four of my grandparents were born in Great Britain. One set of grandparents stayed put in England, the other set sailed for Canada and met each other in Montreal. Maybe nothing made it over the ocean. Maybe they just didn’t bring more than a few clothes with them. The only things I have are a pair of handmade wooden butter pats and a walking stick. And I am so happy to have those. I think my paternal great-grandfather may have carved the butter pats himself in Scotland. The walking stick, from my mother’s side, has been in the family for a least four generations. Worse than not having family heirlooms, I have precious few photographs of my grandparents, none of any great-grandparents, distant aunts, uncles or cousins.

How can this be? I am the self-professed family archivist/genealogist — positively drawn to history, family and otherwise. I must have inherited the gene from someone. Why is it they didn’t keep and pass anything on? Maybe they were so consumed with just getting by that such things were not thought of. Or maybe there is someone else in the family, another branch, who has it all. And it’s not “things” I crave. What I lust for is family photos, journals, and letters — all those intimate sources that would give me insight into the people I came from.

By the way, if anyone can tell me anything about my family's walking stick, I would love to hear it!