Javajune's Blog

Someone once said… “Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live.”

Rural America, Gypsies and me

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It becomes obvious to me that I live in rural America when I come across a folky scene just like the one I encountered yesterday. Okay it went like this: I was driving home from the big city, well what I call the big city, and while cruising down the highway listening to the radio I almost had an accident. Why, because to my left in a little country cemetery, where my Grandparents are buried, was a horse trailer. I thought to myself, “that’s odd why is a horse trailer parked in the cemetery.” Then I took a closer look and saw a man with his hat in his hand holding the reins to his horse. They both stood in front of a grave stone. It was as if they were praying or paying respects to a loved one who had passed. I was so astonished by what I saw and I really wanted to get off the highway and take a picture but something told me not to impose and keep it as a visual memory.  It was an unforgettable sight. I wish I could have captured it with my camera but I guess that would have been rude.

Speaking of rural America I recently came across some info on my southern roots. They are about as rural as one can get. The rumor has always been that my great-grandmother was an American Indian but I found some info to the contrary. She may really have been a gypsy.  She never really said anything about where she came from or who her family was. It was just assumed by the way she looked, long braid down her back, long skirts to the floor, dark eyes, weathered skin, etc that she was Indian.  Duci was silent about her life and her past. The gypsy evidence would explain a lot, like her total separation with her family, no birth certificate, her fortune telling predictions, odd beliefs and stories,. I didn’t know her well, the truth is she kind of scared me by the way she would look at me like she knew something I didn’t and then just turn and walk away.  

Gypsies weren’t welcome anywhere back then and many tried to pass themselves off as Native Americans because that group was better excepted. I’ve always wondered how roots or ethnicity play a role in who we are, even if we were never exposed to that culture.  I’m curious to know if certain tendencies creep in because of our DNA. What do you think? 


July 21, 2009 - Posted by | family woes, me, secrets | , , , , , , , ,


  1. It would explain a lot, that’s for sure. Kinda creeeeepy!

    Comment by Cin | July 21, 2009

  2. Love the story about the horse at the cemetery. I wish you did have picture…park way down the street and use a good zoom lens. But I do understand you feeling the need to be respectful. DNA definitely. My brother was divorced when his children were small, and they moved to another state, so he had little to do with their upbringing. Yet his son is just like him in so many gestures, attitudes…but nuture is also strong. My brother’s grandson, who is not his blood grandson, is also like him, just from being with him so much. I see my father’s stance in my son, the way his pants hang…completely my Dad. All so interesting…
    Happy Tuesday! Oh, my boy is coming home for mid tour leave. Love, Deb

    Comment by Deborah | July 21, 2009

  3. Absolutely! Who we come from, influence a lot of who we are! I always wanted to have a quirky ancestor, someone like Lady Godiva or aome forefather who was a swordsman because I certaing LOVE to chop off things with swords and machetes but I have no desire to ride naked on a horse yet.

    Comment by Ces | July 21, 2009

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