Blog Tales

My Roots

This past Sunday morning,
on the spur of the moment,
I took a road-trip with my father...

Along the way,
dad pulled over so I could take some pictures
of hundred year-old grape vines,
new in leaf...


My dad and I were on a quest...
to the resting place

of my great, great, great grandparents
in the Pleasant Grove Cemetery

just North-East of Sacramento...


It was a bit eerie, but so special to find their graves
in the Goode Family plot...


I wonder what their lives were like...
and... I wonder what California was like,
this gorgeous land, back in 1848,
when my great, great, great grandfather
brought his first of two wagon trains to this area...

So here is where one of the many threads
that weaves the DNA
of my genes lie,
with my shadow looking over...


My great, great, great Grandmother~Minerva Goode...


and her husband and my great, great, great grandfather
Daniel Boone Goode...


My g,g,g grandfather's parents were good friends
with the Daniel Boone, his father, a comrade and companion
on explorations with his son's namesake...

My dad's brother, my uncle Lee (who I am quite fond of,
and named after!!!) has been putting together
our family history, gathering photos, dates,
sleuthing out our history... he sent me these photos last year...

Here is Minerva...


and here is Daniel Boone Goode...


Also deep within the earth,
were the family of one of DB and Minerva's four children...
some with full lives, one who left this earth
at a very young age...

Perry A. Goode... 6 years old...


The inscription on his marker reads
this beautiful and touching verse...

Fold him Oh Father in thy arms.
And let him hence forth be
a messenger of love between
our human hearts and thee~

How grateful I am to these people
for their courage and fortitude
and for living life so I could be here...

My dad and I further explored the surrounding countryside,
taking in majestic oaks, stately mansions and ranches,
and perusing up and down the old streets of Woodland,
full of beautiful homes and ancient California Sycamores...

On the way home,
we went through the town of Davis,
where my dad and mom lived while my father
attended UCDavis in the 50s.
He showed me the apartment where they lived.


This is where I entered the picture,
not far from where my great, great, great grandparents
traveled to, 150 years ago...
setting down their roots,
so I could find my own...