The Year To Be, or Not to Be
Wrapped in fog from Nova Scotia with thoughts of ancestors and T. S. Eliot's “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”
Our guest writer,
joins us from Nova Scotia, Canada as part of our first cohort in the Projectkin Members’ Corner. Monthly posts from members celebrate their contributions to family history storytelling — in all its forms. Posts may be written or recorded (audio or video) will be shared for free each month. Explore the entire Members’ Corner here.
I once knew this poem completely. It stirs me whenever a line from it is spoken or comes to mind. The poem wraps itself around me like the fog and I have no wish to move away. It speaks to my feelings about 2024.
The New Year
Making plans for a new year (always, for me: God willing) is an optimistic and happy task. I think of possible day trips, meals with our children and grandchildren, swimming, visiting, or any number of ordinary wonderful things. This year, less so.
If Eliot’s poem seems fatalistic, sometimes it is. Sometimes though, I find it calls to me and urges me to experience life with gratitude. I am deeply grateful for the individual love and relationship each of our children give us.
2024 Spring and Summer
They tell us it will be even hotter than 2023. That thought gives me shivers as human beings will be suffering even more than they are now. We had one, very hot (for Nova Scotia), windy day in late May. A spark from a backyard fire pit ignited an inferno that travelled 70 km in 30 minutes. I’m sure many people have had this experience - running from a wildfire. This was my first wildfire and hopefully my last. It is recorded in photos and in writing for my children and grandchildren. Events like these are part of our family history.
The Love Song and My Ancestors
Reading Eliot’s poem today brings around thoughts of my ancestors; in particular my paternal line. Just after the large wildfires were under control last year, we departed for Ontario where I found many of Dad’s ancestors’ graves and learned a great deal about a few of them.
Standing on the farm of my three times great-grandfather was an experience I’ll never forget. He immigrated from Long Island, New York sometime around 1815. The plot of land (photograph) had been settled since about 1800. There are more tales waiting and I hope to uncover more of them in this year of uncertainty.
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Love the poem (pun intended) and love this piece. Thank you for sharing your story!
I love those words from the Love Song. I understand how you felt when you stood on your ancestors land. I get that feeling when I walk in their shoes. Just as an aside, Nova Scotia is a place I have always thought I’d would love to visit