Forgotten Ancestors

Today I learned for the first time that my great-grandfather, Timothy Brice of Pavo, Georgia (1838-1910) was the son of Francis Calvin Brice and Elizabeth Annie Murphy, dates of birth and provenance unknown. But I'd wager both were born in the first decade of the nineteenth century, or shortly thereafter.

Pondering this fact caused me to realize that we can never know our ancestors, except for the closest ones whom we knew personally. And even they sometimes seem like alien beings.

Part of the problem of knowing our ancestors stems from there being so many of them. We each have two parents and four grandparents, but by the time we take that out to the seventh generation, each of us is looking at 128 direct ancestors -- 128 great-great-great-great-great grandparents.

Then there's the unique nature of the time we live in. If I could get in a time machine and be able to travel to where Francis Calvin Brice, one of my 16 great-great grandparents, now resides, what would he and I have in common to talk about? There would be a lot about him I'd be curious to know. Was he literate, and if so, how much? Did he fight for the slaveocracy in the Civil War? How many kids did he have (his son Timothy and wife Mary Susan Fall had 13)?

There's simply no way I could ever intimately understand my ancestors who lived down there in rural Georgia in the 1800's. The gulf in the ways we experience the world is way too wide. This reflects on the problems we have trying to accurately re-live history in our minds -- it can't be done.

I might have a little more to talk about with another of my great-great forebears, Elizabeth Carrico (a Portuguese name), who lived in western Kentucky, not far from the Ohio River. Very few women you see in nineteenth century photographs are anywhere near attractive by today's standards, but my great-great grandmother was an exception, and she must have been famous, at least in her neighborhood, for her unusual beauty. Photographs taken of her about mid-century or shortly thereafter reveal a spirited and possibly defiant young woman whose brash confidence added to her striking beauty. Elizabeth had a face made memorable by large, dark eyes that stare unintimidated at the photographer hiding behind his enormous apparatus, challenging him to faithfully record what he sees, if he dares to look.

I'd like to ask her how she came to end up with my great-great grandpa Benjamin, who looked like a full-on hillbilly. But is there any way I could ever know who this woman really was? Did Ben turn her into a baby factory and break her spirit?

There are lots of things I'd like to know about my ancestors, and maybe someday I'll find out more. But I don't think any of us can ever answer the most pressing question -- who were those people?