As a kid who grew up in the Columbia River Gorge, in Washington state I used to think that Oregon and Washington were in some kind of competition. I had a few relatives in Oregon, but we very rarely explored this state, never camped here, never went to its beaches. It felt off limits, even though my dad was born in Celilo.
Later, as a young adult and after moving to Portland, I felt like I did not belong here. Had I known that I merely lived in Washington and my ancestors lived in Oregon as far back as 7 generations on one side and 6 on another, I might’ve felt differently.
After learning about my ancestry I realized I wish I knew my ancestors. Why they did the things they did, who they were, how they survived, etc.
I look at the birth, death and marriage dates and their children and sometimes their other marriages and know that there is so much more. Some of them were the first settlers in Oregon. Some of them were the first people in Oregon.
I was fortunate to see a few articles about them that were vaguely interesting: My grandfather’s prosthetic leg came from Oregon Artificial Limb Co. in 1920 at 8 years old, he saved his family in 1922 from a house fire at 10 years old and survived a capsized fishing boat in 1947.
In November of 1838, another ancestor was part of a welcoming party of 3 when Father Blanchet arrived. He was named and his wife even had a name but her mother was known simply as “Tchinouck Woman” of Hubbard/St. John. From the text, “In the early days of trapping with the Company these Indian wives were an integral part of their lives. They were the cooks, made the clothing, built the fires, dressed the furs and were the companions.”
Imagine having such a crucial role in history, but no one knows your name.
Another ancestor was buried on October 4, 1863 in the “old” cemetery at Mission of the Willamette. The article states, “The old cemetery is located on a small slope on the present Roy Irving land. The area is so overgrown with blackberries and underbrush it could not be readily identified.” I wrote a little about overgrown blackberries in a story here, before finding this information.
I wish there was more about them. It is important for people to know where they are from and to learn from their elders, but sometimes we don’t have elders.
I also wondered how all of that will change since we now have the internet. I keep writing because of this. I am an ordinary person but I subscribe to the notion that the internet is one way to level the playing field when you want to raise your children with generational knowledge. Some parts of my family have information documented about them and some have vanished.
Many of the records kept about ancestors are due to religion and church records. Anyone should be able to keep records, not just for the sake of their church. The bulk of US heritage is just gone because people couldn’t do anything but survive. That is not a history America should be proud of, but it keeps happening. I am an Oregonian currently, but I have always been an Oregonian, even if I didn’t know.