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Bill Of Sale
As I get older, I find myself looking further into the past, searching for pieces of my history. I’ve recently been consumed with questions about my ancestors, where they came from, how they lived and how all that, over several generations resulted in my presence here on Earth. I suppose part of the fascination stems from having been adopted. And I suppose part of it stems from being multi-racial.
I know the origins of my white ancestors fairly well. There’s no shortage of documentation on them. Tracing my black ancestors was more difficult. It’s taken a great deal of time and effort, but I was able to do it. That being said, I was surprised at how the results of my research made me feel.
I knew that my black ancestors would include slaves. But knowing something intellectually isn’t the same as knowing it emotionally. The mind and the heart are two different things within the same body. Of course, that’s not news to anyone, and it wasn’t news to me. What was news, however, is how powerfully different each form of knowledge is.
I knew for decades that my ancestors were enslaved, but a few days ago, I came to know it in my heart. In the course of my digging around, I came across my 6th great grandfather, Paris O’Ree, a slave and the son of Bess and Doublin…
