Together-ness

It’s really nothing new.

Over the holidays, we’ve had many opportunities to ‘gather the troops’, so to speak.

Family get-togethers are a common and pretty much-accepted part of the season of celebration that runs throughout December and into January.

Here in the frozen north, that means massing many, many people into a structure meant to house only a few. Without much chance to escape as temperatures outside dip into the ‘Brrrr’ or ‘cold-enough-to-freeze-your-nose-hairs-stiff’ zones.

Inevitably, altercations happen.

Recently reading my Grandmother Stringam’s journal, I discovered a passage where she quotes Grandfather Stringam’s Uncle, David Coombs. (The Coombs family lived with Grandfather’s family for about a year when Grandpa was a lad of 9.)

“…The little boys have been fighting. Davie (Coombs) claims that Dard (Grandpa) brought on the quarrel, and he tried to defend himself and Dard had the best of it, and on top. Ray struck Dard in the back with a piece of board and Arthur did the same. These proceedings caused me much pain, and also a little scene that transacted on the night of the 10^th whilst Davie was scuffling with one of the Stringam girls.

Mary came up to him and commenced to pull at him and he told her to go away and says that he gave her a push and she claims that he bit her, but she commenced to hit him and pull his hair and then they commenced to fight, Davie pushing her down and shaking her.

These scenes and others make me wish that I was back to our home and makes my spirit very sorrowful and causes me much reflection and anxiety…the thing causes me many unhappy hours and I also have to put in practice all my self-control and in turn, I learn a lesson in controlling my temper.

This entry is dated April 11, 1886.

All of these people grew up to be fine, upstanding citizens, becoming parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and so on.

So I guess I won’t worry too much that someone isn’t playing ‘pretend dragons’ just right or that someone else is hogging all the best Lego or Playmobile pieces.

This, too, shall pass.

Right?

Sundays are for my ancestors.
Tell me about yours!