Stories. Every family has them. Such as…
…a crazy uncle who supposedly was saved from the Titanic by holding on to a floating tuba….
…or a great-great grandmother who reportedly shot her husband and ran off with a Native American chief…
…or a elderly great aunt who smells of cats and has whiskers who tells stories of her risque’ burlesque dancer days.
My family’s stories are not nearly that interesting, but they intrigue me all the same. Such as…
…that my paternal grandmother was French Canadian/Indian. We even “knew” the tribe.
Fiction: Have the genetic tests to prove it and not a drop of Native American DNA.
…that we were eligible for for the DAR through my maternal grandmother’s family line, the Gards.
Fact: Have the DAR membership certificate on my wall.
…that my great-great-grandfather, Washington E. Keen, was buried in Tomb 28 under Boston’s Old North Church.
Fiction: He was actually interred in Tomb 27. But, close!
…that our Keen/e family began with three brothers, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednigo Keen, who immigrated from England to America.
I don’t know! Absolutely no evidence to be found, so far.
…that my great-grandfather, George Augustus Keene, was actually named Tubal, but legally changed his name at the age of 10.
Still a mystery! No proof that I have found so far.
I would very much like to find the truth behind those last two stories. But, I have found nothing. Not. A. Thing to support either one of those stories. Not that I haven’t tried.
I have searched through vital records, family genealogies, journals, history books, called historical societies and churches, etc. I have found nothing to support either of the last two stories.
I’m working on some theories, however.
But, maybe some family stories are meant to remain mysteries.