pas·sion
ˈpaSHən/
noun
1.
strong and barely controllable emotion.
Given the challenge to consider my passion, I actually felt a little guilty for a moment when "genealogy" was my first thought. Shouldn't it be my family?
Wait .. my involvement began with my family.
Wait .. my involvement began with my family.
When I was little, I was fortunate that my grandparents lived next door to one another (yes, my parents are the boy-and-girl-next-door). My Grandpa Epps was six-foot-three inches tall. He was my 'big grampin.' My Grandpa Hoyle was about five-foot-seven; he was my 'little grampin.' I know I spent a lot of time with them, but my little grampin died just before my fourth birthday. Sadly, and I have cried about this (true confession), I have absolutely no conscious memories of him. So began my quest for family information.
I always say I 'cornered' my grandma for answers, but, in truth, she loved to tell me stories about my grandpa. The bonus outcome, which I don't think I fully appreciated at the time, was that she also shared stories about her family. I still have handwritten notes I made as she was telling me, as well as several letters she sent me after I was married with bits and pieces of family trivia that she remembered after we had talked. These are precious to me. My conversations with her fueled my passion.
Many years later, my passion for learning about the family that lived before me, and cleared the path for my sojourn here on Earth, continues to expand. Never, never have I found enough about that family to satisfy the yearning.
In pondering the 'passionate' side of this *obsession,* I think there may be a more basic underlying desire to know everything. That might take me a while. :)
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