My father and his family were apart of The Great Migration in the fifties. Thank God they made it safely. I can only imagine how nervous my little daddy must have been. He and my Aunt Gloria, were the last of the kids to make the trip. My grandfather packed them up and left Hayti, MO in the rear view. Forty years or so later, I was born. Twenty one years after that, Noah was born. When you really think about it, what are the chances any of us came about? How amazing that our ancestors did exactly what they did, exactly when they did it, everyday of their lives until a combination of occurrences culminated in the bloodline that created us? Weve all come so far and yet still have so far to go.
Posted on: Sat, 19 Jul 2014 13:24:45 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015