I don’t know why, but for some reason lately, I have been thinking about the names of some of my dead relatives. Ever since I was a kid, my mom had this picture of her grandmother Bertie Parker in an old wooden frame. Bertie looks about fourteen in the picture and is wearing a rather nice calf-length outfit. I remember the day I asked my mom what her name was and ever since I have been enamored with it. I always thought that if I ever have a little girl, I’ll name her Bertie. My other great grandmother’s name was Grace. I wish I could have known both of them, and been able to hear about their lives and experiences.
“To forget ones ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without a root”