So I have clearly been talking too much about my Oklahoma kinfolk, and have not been reminding you all that at least one half of my soul yearns for the Lone Star State. My Uncle James reminded me of my Texas roots by sending a lovely gift for each of the urchins and pointing out to me that my job is to record the glamour for the genealogy documents.
See, here's the thing about my Uncle James. He's a genius, and he has single-handedly recorded the complete genealogical history of our family. I'm not even kidding -- he has traced our family roots back to England before the Jamestown settlers even considered heading west. According to my Uncle James, Pocahontas is a Johnny-come-lately. Some of us call her Rebecca Rolfe, but my Uncle James doesn't care -- he can produce Townsends as far back as 1564.
For an example of my uncle's skills, check out what he has told us about this gentleman: John P. Offield was born in 1841 in the Republic of Texas, served in the Army of the Confederate States of America, and died in 1910 in the great state of Texas, United States of America. And if you don't understand how much of our country's great and tragic history is summed up in this photograph, let me put you in touch with my Uncle James so he can set you straight.
Well, Uncle James (who reads this blog -- hi, Uncle James! Love you, Aunt Betty!) recently sent a bolo tie for the tall boy, and necklaces and earrings for the two girl urchins; all of them are festooned with the Lone Star of Texas -- and I have been given the commandment: "thou shalt take a family portrait that will document the loveliness of that part of Texas which calls itself Virginia."
You know that joke beloved by all Texans, right? You tell a Texan, "I'm from Boston -- the home of John Adams and the Boston Tea Party!" And a Texan will ask very cheerfully, "Boston, you say? What part of Texas is that in?"