All my grandparents died before I was born. For half a century I went without ever seeing a photograph of my maternal grandfather, Elias Jones Massey, my namesake. I never knew I was named after him until a few years ago. I only knew of him as Elias Massey, nothing of Jones. Therefore, I thought my lastname firstname was a mistake, an anomaly, or even worse, a punishment. I was the ninth kid and my parents had run out of decent first names. But now I know my heritage and it gives me a sense of destiny.
I saw this picture for the first time today. Granted, it is not a well-done photograph and Elias Jones Massey was neither photogenic nor handsome, but alas, he was flesh and blood. When I saw him I trembled, then I wept shameless tears in front of my family. No one could understand why it touched me so, not even me. But I relish the incomprehensible rush, the broken gutteral expressions of language that came out of some undiscovered place in my soul.
After all these years, someone finally thought to pull an old photo out of a worn-out box and show it around. I’m glad they didn’t wait another half-century.
Lamar Howell's Weblog 
Lamar, thanks for sharing that story about your grandfather. It touched me too. Emotions run deep concering family, even family you have never known or seen. When I read a letter from my great grandmother about her prayers for me, even though I wasn’t born, I wept deeply. It opened up some channel of connection.
Great blog.
Great story
You are an awesome writer
Mike
I don’t know why God is awakening a strong desire in many to know their heritage. I had always been comfortable with what people told me. One was Black Dutch. Then I started writing my book and gave reference to my heritage. The person helping me sent that first chapter back with red all over it and a not to research Black Dutch. I did and could not find anything. Finally, as a last resort, I sent the question to a place on the internet that helped students with research questions. The answer shocked me. Black Dutch is a cover-up for Indian, Jew, Gypsy, or a combination of the 3. After nagging my daddy, he finally told me the truth, just a few months before he died. My great-grandmother was the daughter of a Cherokee Chief. She and my PaPa were God-loving people. She is a reason I am who I am and where I am. Also, I have the kneading bowl that my PaPa carved for her when the married. It is an exact copy of the Jewish people and is a very important part of their family life. Now, according to Emma Rudoply, I am learning that I also have Jewish heritage. I’ll tell you more about them when you have time.
Love you,
Momma Anita
Jones,
I always liked your name, we shared many good times in middle and high school.
Enjoying reading your writing on the weblog, and will be back to read more later.
Hope life has been good to you!
Betty
This reminds me of my personal search. I’ve always known
God gave my current job to me for “keeping in touch with
family.” My beginning started with a visit to an aunt that
had rwo strokes and her eldest daughter residing in
Pensacola took Aunt Margie in her home. After resistence
from Mom,but knowing the voice of God telling me to go,
I made two trips,and not too soon. as she ‘graduated’
shortly afterwards.The key that unlocked my search was
Aunt Margie giving me the address of her first cousin that
she was writing letters ‘back home in Kentucky’. After
writing and visiting cousin Mary, my brother,mother and I
with cousins, attended several ‘Rose Reunions’.We saw our
paternal grandfather’s grave/headstone for the first time.
He had passed when Dad was about 15 yrs old. We had
lots of questions and got some answers. I made special
trips to visit three other cousins of Dad’s. One had written
a personal family♥journal of travel in a covered wagon and
her childhood memories♥♫
Lamar, this is good and good for you, I encourage you and
will be reading again☼☺
I would like to read orher comments♫☺♥
Thank you Phyllis for your honest emotions. I’m glad you had the experience which opened up some places in your heart. It is always securing when we grab onto a secure link to our past. It renews our sense of purpose. I appreciate the letter:)