Nansemond Indian Nation Pow Wow 2019-A Family Affair

By Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams

Cousins, Bob, Debbie, Rod, and his beautiful daughter.

There are moments in life that leave us breathless and our hearts beating to a new rhythm. Memorable moments. Moments we file in the deepest recesses of our hearts and souls. I had many such moments this past weekend.

My family and I attended the thirty-first annual Pow Wow of the Nansemond Indian Nation in Suffolk, Virginia. I had no clue what to expect as I’d never attended a pow wow of any kind, anywhere. Indeed, it wasn’t until about three years ago that I knew this was part of my heritage.

This one was special to me because it was my first and was held on lands in possession of my Mama’s family for centuries. Since before my European ancestors arrived in the new world, the Nansemond were here. They hunted and fished on those lands. They made their homes and raised their families on those lands. The name Nansemond is Algonquian for fishing point.

Roots Run Deep and Hold Fast

By Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams

This coming weekend promises to be a once-in-a-lifetime event. My husband and I are celebrating our anniversary. As part of our celebrations we will be traveling to Suffolk, Virginia, where we will be joined by our eldest son and his younger daughter. The four of us will be attending the 31^st annual Pow Wow of the Nansemond Indian Nation. The place of my roots.

Y’all know that I’m a big proponent of tracking one’s roots. Had I not been so diligent in seeking family members who knew more than I about my Mama’s family, this weekend would pass me by just as the previous thirty Pow Wows did. But thanks to newfound cousins who were and are far more knowledgeable about Mama’s family than we ever hoped to be, we will be in attendance this year.

Unknown Stories

Mama knew precious little about her roots. She, of course, knew her parents though her father passed away when Mama was only seven. All she knew of grandparents on his side of the family was that her grandmother was Ellen and her grandfather was Andrew.

When my sister and I began the search for our roots back in the 1990s, we were armed with a great deal of information on our Daddy’s side. But Mama’s was almost a blank slate. It was only after I joined Ancestry that I connected with cousins who’d been working on this side of the family for over forty years. Their research and documentation were solid considering all the work had been done the old-fashioned way, by combing through records in dusty old courthouses and pouring through library microfiche. The hours this must have taken still astounds me.

Proofs

One cousin volunteered to take a DNA test for us. It was at this point that we connected to unknown kin. We were able to piece together a family tree. The records we discovered—census records, marriage certificates, death certificates, land deeds, wills, etc. were tangible proof of the discoveries we made.

So, this coming weekend, we'll travel to Virginia to stand on the land that has been a part of the history of the Nansemond for centuries. A part of my Mama’s family. My family. My sons’ family. My granddaughters’ family.

There are no words for the overwhelming emotions as I write this. I will share photos and more reactions with you next week.

Roots.

Join our conversation. Have you searched for your roots? Share your discoveries with us.

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The photo above is of my Mama's family. Back row: Alberta Bass Cunningham, Rubye Bass Register, Beulah Bass Elmore, Bura Bass, 

Seated: Grandpa Wilburn Bass holding Mama, Dot Bass DuPree, Check Bass, behind in middle; Granny Ludie Smith Bass holding Doris Bass Blackburn, Mary Bass Derby.

Around Every Curve--Surprise

By Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams

One of the many nice things about living in the mountains of western North Carolina, other than our beautiful mountains and all that comes with that, is there is always something new around the next curve. Our weekend outing was a testament to that.

As an author, I have accounts on many social media sites, and I have this weekly blog. To keep my posts fresh and to have relevant photographs to accompany these posts, I like to take my own photos. An advantage to this is, I don’t have to worry about copyrighted material. And, I add my own watermark so that my work cannot be used without my permission. Honestly, I don’t think I need worry about that as I am not a professional photographer by anyone’s stretch of the imagination. But, I do okay for someone who is clueless.

A Goodly Heritage

By Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams

I’ve spent a couple of days looking over family records—genealogy. It’s one of my favorite things to do. One thing I must keep in mind is how much time this takes away from my writing. It’s very easy to get sucked down those winding paths of one’s family. Mine is a doozy, believe me. I start out looking for one line and wind up on one totally unrelated, pun intended.

Years ago, close to twenty, I was in the genealogy library in Bartow, Florida. Bartow is a tiny little town not too far from the Tampa Bay area. One thing you must understand is how friendly the world of genealogists is. Most of us willingly share our work and actively help one another.

Called to be You

By Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams

Have you seriously thought about your purpose in life? What you've been called to be or do? A few years ago, author Rick Warren came out with his highly successful book, The Purpose Driven Life. My husband and I loved the study of this book so much, we went through the class twice. Yes, it’s that good. Though it was published in 2002, it is still very much relevant today . . . perhaps even more so.

When hubby and I moved into our home here in western North Carolina last year, a spider spun her web on one of the windows overlooking the fairway behind our home. She was so good at her job of being a spider. It was obvious that she took pride in her web-making abilities. Of course, her main purpose was to ensnare prey for her and her babies. I have to believe she knew she had created something that no other creature could—this beautifully crafted work of art. When it became broken, she quickly began work on the necessary repairs. I took many photographs of her and her web design. 

Anticipation

In the meantime, winter came. Miss Spider went into hibernation (let me believe this, please), and hubby and I went to Florida for a few months to escape the cold and snow. It was with great anticipation that we returned to our North Carolina home, this time permanently. I so looked forward to Miss Spider being there in the Spring with her latest web.

Alas, she never came.

Hubby and I don’t spend a lot of time in our sun room in the dark of night. You can’t see out. Everything is sleeping. But this week we’ve been without all those things run by our internet and television provider, so last night we decided to sit in the sun room with a good book in hand. I looked up and saw movement. There, right in front of me, was Miss Spider, weaving away. I was thrilled. Hubby grabbed a flashlight while I snapped as good a photo as was possible with my aging iPhone and in the darkness.

Now, I know this isn’t the first Miss Spider, the one to whom I had become so attached. My new Miss Spider was younger and much smaller than the first. But there she was, weaving a lovely piece of art. 

Same Species-Different Ways

Two spiders of the same species, both called to the same purpose—create a web, capture food for you and your wee ones. Each carried out this task in her own way. My first spider spun in the daytime. This new, younger spider spins in the dark of night.

Recently, I sent a friend’s book to another friend who has family in the city in which the book takes place. The friend who read the book wrote an amazing, lyrical review of the book. (Author friend you know who you are and you will be thrilled with this review.) The reader sent me her review prior to posting it and I was blown away by her use of words to describe the author’s work. I suggested to the reader that perhaps she had a hidden desire to enter the writing world.

Reader declined, saying while she knows she has a way with words, she has no desire to write. 

It’s all about purpose. She doesn’t feel called to write. This reader friend is a phenomenal decorator and seamstress. And she quotes more lines from songs and movies than anyone I know. She takes great care of her parents who are in their mid to late eighties, but still living alone and going strong. With her husband, they travel to the city in which the book takes place to see their son perform (he's a gifted jazz drummer) and to visit with their daughter-in-love and granddaughter. In other words, she knows her purpose and she is fulfilling all those things. She’s living the life she is supposed to be living.

Called to Our Unique Purpose

Writing may be what I feel called to do, but my friend, though she is gifted with the ability to write beautiful sentences, doesn’t feel that call, that purpose for her life.

The Author of our lives calls each of us to a specific purpose. Have you found yours? If not, listen for that Still Small Voice. It may come in a remark from a friend, from a song lyric speaking directly to you, from a page in a book, from a certain scripture verse that speaks to your heart. Each of us is unique—we fulfill a specific purpose. I have many writer friends, but not one of us has written the same book.

I’ll ask again—Have you found your purpose? Share your calling with us.

Romans 8:28.

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Family Stories-- Ask Those Questions NOW

By Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams

July is a busy month for birthdays in our family. No less than five family members were born on the fourteenth—my Daddy and his twin brother, my son, Christopher, and two cousins who are siblings. My great-nephew and his wife are about to have their third girl born in July. And the sixteenth is my granddaddy’s birthday. He would be 131, Daddy and Uncle Bill would have been 99. Such milestones.

Upon awaking this morning, I realized today is Granddaddy’s birthday. I wish that I knew more about him. We didn’t spend a lot of time with him when we were children. Granddaddy had a rough childhood. When he was only two years old, his father, at age 28, passed away, leaving my great-grandmother with two small children to care for. Aunt Nora was five years older than Granddaddy. I don’t know the real story, but for whatever reason, Granddaddy and Aunt Nora were sent to live with their uncle, brother of my great grandmother. We’ve been told that they were not exactly welcoming of Granddaddy and treated him cruelly, so at age 10, he ran away to an uncle on is father’s side where he lived until he was old enough to be out on his own.

Lost Stories

How I wish I knew these stories. The truth of them. The back stories. If those relatives were cruel to Granddaddy . . . why? Where did he go when he left his Uncle William’s home?Why could he read but not write? Where did he meet Grandmother? So many questions.

All I know is that when he married my grandmother, Roxie, she taught him to write. Was it because he could read and write that he became a surveyor and a carpenter? No clue. I didn’t spend enough time with him to ask those questions. And I was so young, only 13 when he died, learning about the elderly in my family was likely not a priority.

Sadly, I didn’t know my grandmother at all. She passed away when my Daddy was not quite 18. Daddy was very close to Grandmother. He was the sickly twin and spent most of his time with her when he was a boy. He started school well after his twin, so he had a few years at his mother’s side. She taught him to cook, clean, and to tend the garden. I can tell you that I know him well enough to say that he delighted in cooking and gardening, but cleaning would have been the last thing he would have desired. Nope, not that boy.

But I don’t have many stories about Grandmother. About all I know is that she was a few years older than Granddaddy, she may have walked with a limp from having stepped on hot coals when she was a child, and she died from what was then called lockjaw, today known as tetanus. She stepped on a rusty nail and passed away from lockjaw in 1938. The tetanus vaccination wasn’t readily available until the late 1940s. (As a side note, have you had your booster shot? You need one every ten years.)

Out of the blue this week, I was thinking of my in-laws. I wondered about the story of my husband’s parents’ elopement. I know that Mom was in nursing school in Birmingham, where Dad lived, and that she couldn’t continue with school if she was married. Word got out and she was forced to leave. But when and why and how did they decide to elope? How did they tell Dad’s family? Her family? Sooo many questions.

Ask Those Questions

My point in all of this is—ask any and all questions now. Don’t wait as one day, it will be too late. There are so many unanswered questions about the lives of my ancestors. How I wish that someone had written down these things. If only I had had the desire as a young woman to know these things.

Back in August of 2017, I wrote blog posts in which I included questionnaires which you could take to family reunions or gatherings. They aren't the final say on what you may want to ask, but they are a good start. As you head to family reunions this year, take along these questions. I think you will be glad that you did. Maybe not today, but one day, you will be very happy you did. Scroll through my posts to find the three from August of 2017 for those questions.

Have you asked all the questions you have? If not, please print out the list I have made for you. Let us know if this helped, and if you have a list, share yours with us.

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