Ancestry – Barbara Heagy

1 Teaspoon of Paprika

The Internet is a wonderful place for synchronistic connections. I was working on my next chapter “Pass It On” which focuses on recipes passed down from my Hungarian Grandma Haydu. Many of them include Hungarian Paprika with its unique taste. It is different from other paprikas and Hungarians can tell the difference. Well, lo and behold, I came across this beautiful photograph on another Facebook site I belong to and thought “How perfect!”

The photographer Phillip Dove lives in Saltburn-by-the-Sea, United Kingdom, and graciously allowed me to use his photograph in my upcoming book “For the Love of Food: Family Edition.” All he asked for in return was a copy of my grandma’s Hungarian Goulash which I gladly sent to him. Thank you, Phillip. Check out his website at phillipdovephotography.com

Pass It On

I am now working on my next chapter of my upcoming book “For the Love of Food: Family Edition.” The chapter is called “Pass It On” and I write about our connections to our descendants.

“Look back. Our descendants made us who we are today. We fit together like nesting dolls going back and back in circles of time. Because of my mother, I exist. Because of her mother, she exists.

Our bodies are living continuations of our parents, our grandparents, and all those that came before them, generation upon generation. Our ancestors are literally a living part of us. We carry their diets, their lifestyles, their hopes, their traumas, within our very cells. My hands become our hands. My spirit becomes their spirit.

When I smell the spicy scent of paprika, I am sent down the paths of the past to Hungarian kitchens, to cuisine birthed in European soils. When a cloud of flour rises off grandma’s wooden noodle board, I envision golden stalks of wheat and oats flowing across miles and miles of Canadian prairie fields waving in the distance. The soft touch of a feathery dill that tickles my nose when I bend to take in its powerful scent, sends me back through the past to steaming kitchens as cooks fill crocks and bottles with nature’s bounty. When I shake the dirt off a carrot yanked fresh out of the garden, I am doing what my ancestors did as they worked their fields with sun on their backs, mud on their feet and fullness in their hearts.”
~Barbara Heagy from “For the Love of Food: Family Edition”

Who Counts As Family?

I am presently taking a genealogy course to trace my family line. Yesterday we registered with Ancestry.ca and I have begun creating my family tree.

I quickly realized that it seems to be set up for direct blood lines. My family is not that simple. My father passed away when I was 7 years old, mom remarried, and my new dad legally adopted us and, within a few years, I had two new brothers, one passed, one still alive.

My mother and new dad divorced years later and Dad remarried. I now have a whole new family of sisters and a brother, nieces and nephews. Later, I divorced and remarried and, once again, the family expanded.

Doing my family tree, I have asked myself “Who counts as family?” Even though we may not be related through direct blood lineage, my new family members are truly family to me.

From Familyhistorydaily.com – “In our daily lives, family often has less to do with biological or legal connections and more to do with personal relationships. Those people who are intimate parts of our lives, who we love and care for, who care for us, are our family. What makes a mother, father, sibling, child, grandchild is seldom straightforward.”

I’m hoping as I delve further into my family tree that there will be options to break out into all directions. For after all, family are tied together with far more than just blood and DNA. Love and commitment are binding glue that hold us together throughout our lives.

Gramma’s Gift

Yesterday, I was challenged to write a 50 word story about a box found in my deceased grandmother’s attic. The box had my name on it. What was inside?

Being a third generation Hungarian on both sides of my family, I have often wondered about my ancestral line. I was too young and busy in my life to care before my great-grandparents, grandparents, and parents died with all their stories and information. Tracing my ancestry is made more difficult by the fact that my grandparents surname was changed to a more Anglicized version that was easier for English tongues to say. Who knows what the original version is and how would I get that information?

My birth father died of cancer when I was just seven years old and mom remarried when I was nine. My life took a new direction and we began to see my original birth family on my father’s side less and less. It was a large family, nine brothers and sisters who married, had children and produced a large number of cousins for me and my brother and sister. I have seen them on occasion, but it was usually at a public or social function and as the years passed it was infrequent.

This past year I took a therapeutic touch workshop at my local YMCA/YWCA. I arrived early and sat down next to a man, the only other participant there. As the teacher was giving us our handouts, I turned to say something to him. My mouth dropped open!

“Uncle Frank!”

He looked confused until I said, “It’s Barbie, your niece.”

A big smile creased his face and after that we enjoyed reminiscing and spoke of old times until the class began. We decided that we would get together for a coffee some day and he agreed to help me fill in some of the holes in my memories and knowledge of my family.

Well, of course, some day never came until Glynis Belec’s online challenge to write the short 50 word story. I began researching my pet name ‘Boriska’ that I was called from birth by my mother’s Hungarian side of the family and was confused by what I found. I also wanted to find a Hungarian symbol that would be suitable as a potential gift to me from my grandmother. Neither searches were easy to do what with spelling and other nationalities mixed in with the results.

I decided to call Uncle Frank. He lives here in my own town. He answered a few of my questions but I wanted more information. We agreed that we would get together for coffee and a chat about our families in a couple of weeks. The date is set and written on my calendar and I am looking forward to it.

How much do you know about your ancestral line? I have learned that the sooner you get that information from your family, the better. Time has a habit of slipping away and all that information goes with it as family pass on.

Here’s my little 50 word story. It’s fictional but it reflects my Hungarian heritage.

Dad handed me the small velvet box. On it was a small tag with one word, ‘Boriska.’ Gramma’s pet name for me since I was a baby.

“I found it in her attic.”

Inside was a silver pendant of twisted leaves and a heart, an ancient Hungarian symbol of love.

Glynis, my author friend, gave us a great little writing prompt. It encouraged me to think deeper about my cultural background. Why don’t you try it? What would be in your box?