Of Profile Photos and Such

I've not given much thought to profile pictures since I began blogging. I do remember using my own picture in the early days. I was so much younger then! And thinner! Then one day I began looking at my eyebrows and I took that photo off faster than one can strip off her turtleneck in a hot flash. I even posted about it way back *here.* There are some of you who'll remember...

The other day, I was looking at my Followers List and I was particularly drawn to the faces. I really enjoyed seeing each face. Now I look at my happy little list of Followers and think of it as a bouquet. I went so far as to think that God must love our faces, too, since He created so many unique ones. After all, even twins have enough differences between them to tell one from the other.

And that is how I came to put my own face back in the profile picture. Just one little problem. I can hardly stand to look at it so you may see it change over the next few days until I land on one that I can tolerate. I'm thinking of a butterfly or a pine cone or something like that. :D

Now it so happens that I do have a lovely face to share with you and it's in keeping with the theme of my sister's and my looking through old family photos. We've been able to go back through seven generations of women on my mother's side...her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother, and her great-great grandmother. That's five including Mother and with my generation and my daughter's generation that makes seven.

So, putting this in context now, this is my Nan's grandmother, her mother's mother. Her name is Alice. What can one tell from looking at such a sweet face? Probably not a whole lot. If I didn't know the back story, I'd think something entirely different. Sadly, I do know the story. Would you be interested to know, too?

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3/07/11

It may be because I'm deep into Lark Rise to Candleford and all of the story lines there and the delicious little wisdoms shared. (I just watched this episode, which explains all I'll say about that.) Whatever the reason, I've had a change of heart about Alice. It may also be that I read Cait O'Connor's poem titled Genealogy Days, which changes my perspective.

This I will say, we can never know an ancestor more than the stories that remain. A photo can not tell the story. My maternal grandmother described her maternal grandmother in such unflattering ways that I have always thought of Alice as The Wicked Stepmother in Cinderella. Now I know that she had many more layers than my own grandmother could have been aware or wished to be aware having her own sense of things. I know that Alice's husband James adored her and that he sank down to his own end pining for her. I also know that she had a voice like a lark and the neighbors loved to sit on their porches to hear Alice sing from her own. That strikes me as the better way to leave her. When I had nothing but disturbing passed-on memories, I now may replace them with

better ones. Yes, I'm going to give Alice some grace all these years later and let those nasty stories rest.

Thank you for understanding...

Edited to Add Again: I'm getting famous for these. Aunt Amelia asked me how I knew all these things and here is my answer in case anyone else was wondering.

Aunt Amelia, thank you for the question... I know so much more now because of letters. Lots and lots of letters. No, she didn't run off. Died at home in 1924 after a lovely day spent with a friend...actually collapsed at the door while saying goodbye.Yes, I have that letter from her friend to my great-grandmother describing that day. I know that James pined for her because of letters written by his sons to their sister (my great-grandmother). It's been an interesting journey through the years now let me tell you.