Why I Started A Family Tree

I remember spending lots of time in the kitchen with my mother; the best times of my life.  At the tender age of 8, my mother suddenly died, and I found myself in foster care, and then adopted.  During the court proceedings, I remember telling the judge that I didn't want my last name changed completely.  When he asked why, I told him, "because someday I'm coming back home, and I want my family to be able to recognize me".  The judge said I was wise beyond my years, and my last name was hyphenated to reflect both my given surname, and my new adopted surname.  


When I was in high school, we'd been given a project . . . to trace our family tree.  It was then I realized, that I only knew my Mommy and Daddy's names.  I didn't have any names to attach to Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, etc.  Combine that with the fact that there was no way for me to contact anyone in my birth family to get this information.  I explained my dilemma to my teacher, and he suggested that I use my adoptive family's information.  Although I wound up with a nice tree, and a good grade, deep down it bothered me that I didn't know the information that many people can rattle off at the drop of a dime.  Who was I, really?  Where did I come from?  Who was here before me?  My family on Mommy's side is from Barbados; I wanted to know all about my Caribbean ancestors.  Daddy's relatives were from Virginia, I knew there had to be a story to be told there as well.


It was right then and there that I decided that I'd find out the answers to my burning questions . . . I started out by writing down whatever little scraps of information I could remember; names, dates, places.  It was hard, because I was so young when I left home, but I did my best.  I had no pictures, or anything to fall back on.  (I was born in New York; once you're adopted there, your records are permanently sealed forever).  So, other than a copy of my "original" birth certificate, there was very little to go on.  


This is truly a labor of love for me, because I have one cousin (my birth mother's 87 year old first cousin), and then I'm the next in line. Someone has to be the keeper of the family history; I've decided that it will be me. I want to preserve my family's history, so that I can pass it down to my children and grandchildren.