Several days ago, I joined the Ashby family facebook group. The first Ashby I know of was my great great great, etc etc. grandfather born in the 1850s. Everyone on that side of the family can claim English and Irish descent--though you might not know it to look at me; the Barbadian and Native American genes obviously beat the European in me :) For some reason, people always ask me where I'm from. India? Mexico? Perhaps more African? A Mayan pastor insisted that I was originally from his country and after 10 minutes of questioning me I could see that he still wasn't convinced that I'm from the U.S. He looked at me like, "Poor girl, she must have no idea that she's truly from Belize." Who knows, he may be right. My not too distant ancestors traveled about quite a bit. Maybe someone traipsed up to Belize for a visit. Of course, my "accent" doesn't help. Mix midwest, new england and southeast accents together and you get a surprisingly neutral voice. At least I think so. A Nigerian friend of mine couldn't quite place me and finally deciding that I'm a myriad of ethnicities, she settled for "You look like you come from somewhere near the water." Okay, I'll take that. My siblings and I used to spend hours on the computer researching names and trying to piece together genealogies. Yes, we were nerds. Okay, so we still are. We didn't do it this year, but in years past, when St. Patrick's day came around we would all buy t-shirts that proclaimed our Irish heritage (I think my big brother has a really nice one that he still wears on occasion), and we would laugh and say to each other, no one knows that we really are. It's a big deal to know where you come from. That reminds me--I need to ask my grampa for the recipe for Bajan rice and peas. He claims that he wouldn't give it to my mom--his daughter-in-law-- because she doesn't have Barbadian blood flowing through her veins. Well, hoity toity. [Disclaimer: My grampa isn't truly a mean man] My mom's parent's are from Mississippi (she taught us a song to remember how to spell Mississippi: "M-i-googalaga googalaga-i googalaga googalaga-i humpback humpback-i" You have to wiggle when you sing googalaga and hunch your shoulders when you sing humpback. Love it!) She was born and raised in the midwest but I think the southern is still in her somewhere. Unlike my father's side, my mother doesn't know much about her family history except that her grandmother was a small, quiet woman of black and Native American descent. Granny, my mother's mother, was very fair with long auburn curls. So a petite black American Indian woman had a fair redheaded child. You know, my nana on the Ashby side had red curls and fair skin too. The moral of this story is--there's a good chance I could have an adorable little red-haired child. Or a beautiful brown Island baby. Or a child who looks like me and everyone asks them constantly where they're from. Every now and then, my mom seems a little sad that she doesn't know anything about her family. I've tried to research my mom's side a bit, but it's not easy. Of course, I'm not sure how well births, deaths and marriages were officially kept up with in small country towns, especially for minorities. I'm sure I'll figure it out someday. Just like someday I'll actually visit Barbados and Ireland and England--among other wonderful places. That castle is called Dunluce btw.
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