Most 10-year-olds do not find giddy enjoyment in racing about 150+ year old cemeteries jotting down every detail on every headstone bearing a certain name in the scribbly handwriting of someone who has just learned cursive.
Yet, that is exactly how my journey began in 1998 in the Niantic Church cemetery in Bally, PA. Somehow my childish fear of cemeteries, skeletons, and anything death-related was quelled by the search for the past, a search for both where I came from, and a search for names that I did not want to be lost to the wear upon limestone.
Years later, this quest has at times resembled obsession (reading 1700’s era hand-etched brownstone grave markers by cell phone light under whirling bats and a full moon comes to mind), but not for nothing. Some lines remain dead ends (pun intended) while others have reached beyond the 1600’s and stories of immigrants’ turmoils. Here I’ll keep track of new discoveries for my own records, for my family members, and for whomever else may be searching for the same answers.
They lived. They are why we are here. Their stories are still alive, just waiting to be found and re-told.
Leaves on the Tree 