Crescent Shadows On-Line Newsletter of the Hudson Valley Pagan Network, Inc.

My ancestors came after me. One day while I was sitting at my desk, I got an e mail from my step-sister. She does genealogical research and saw a posting from someone looking for members of the Piser family of Pittstown. My paternal line spent 250+ years in beautiful, rural Pittstown NY, located in northern Rensselaer County. (Those of you who have attended HVPN Warrior's Weekend know exactly where that is.) I was never interested in genealogy, but my natural willingness to help convinced me to contact this girl. I had to think about it for a few days, after all who knows about people on the Internet and what their real motives are!

She turned out to be a distant cousin, several times removed. Her mother's grandfather died young in 1884. Being a widow with a small daughter, she re-married a short time later and moved away to Virginia. This little girl grew up and married having a girl of her own. That daughter's daughter is now an 18 year old college student in Virginia looking for her roots.

I was able to make the connection that she had lost. The young man who died had a brother who inherited my family's farm after the death of his older brother, passed it on to his son and his son then to my grandfather and father. She was so excited and so were her mother and grandmother!

I never though of my paternal line as much more than a bunch of farmers. However after seeking out the posting that my step-sister found for my family name, I found other postings of people looking for my paternal line too! Then I made a trip to the New York State Archives to take a look at Revolutionary War records and found a paternal ancestor that fought in that war! Also a civil war soldier in my paternal family tree proved very interesting.

That's when they came. I started digging at every opportunity. Spending every lunch hour, sometimes doubling my hour, at the library and archives. I felt them over my shoulder. They were so pleased that someone was interested, and because of that, the information was easy to find. It's not supposed to be easy, and I guess some would think it grueling, but I really felt their pleasure in my soul! These men fought in the Revolutionary war because it was literally over the next hill, what choice did they have? The women had 8-10 children on average. They marked their names with an X and could list all their possessions on a single sheet of paper. They buried their babies, one after the other. The women often died in childbirth and their children with them. These people live in my blood. My very DNA carries their strength, determination, courage; as well as their sorrow, grief and pain. I was proud of them, and they of me.

Next, I started on my maternal line. My maternal grandmother loved to tell ghost stories. She'd seen more than a few and so did her mother, she claimed. I remember her warning; "If you ever see a ghost, shout 'In the name of God, what do you want!'" I practiced those words, sure I would see a ghost someday! I was named after my maternal great grandmother, Jennie, so naturally had a special interest in her. However it turned out to be her husband, Matthew, who's presence I felt the strongest. I learned he was the oldest of 7 boys, who lived in an apartment with his siblings, parents, a few uncles (at any given time), and a grandmother that lived to be 102. Needles to say it was crowded. So when I found out that he married Jennie at age 16, she was 15, I wasn't too surprised. Jennie was fresh out of the orphanage, and I began to see him as her knight. Jennie's first baby, a girl, died at 2 years old. I cried for them.

When I discovered Wicca, I went to some of their graves and asked them to tell me about their lives with my tarot cards. I was blown away at what I learned. With goose bumps and chills, I saw their suffering and heartache, as well as their joys and victories. I came away from their graves feeling like I knew them.

Now I do research for other genealogists on the same quest. Except now, their ancestors visit me. More than once I've been tempted to give up a search and then felt a compelling need to continue. Almost every time I get that feeling, I find something soon after. I find things that are impossible to find, a surname spelled laughably wrong, an error on a film label, a book that was presumed lost, you name it. Strange things happen. So now I speak to them too. I ask that if they want to be found, to please help me, and they do. On the other hand, I'm convinced that some folks just don't want to be found either. I get the feeling of a blank wall in my face, or a closed door, in other words, I get the message.

Now I have a shrine to the women of my soul. My grandmother's and their mothers and mother-in-laws. I leave feathers, stones from my budding archaeologist daughter and flowers near them. Sometimes I have coffee with them.

I believe our ancestors surround us. After all, energy cannot be destroyed, only displaced. The spirits that loved us in life, will be with us in death.

- Jenn Olmstead

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Last Updated: September 28, 2003
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