In my last blog, I was all pumped up about a cake pop and Mother Teresa. Who ever thought those two would be in the same sentence?

But this weekend was HARD. I realized how much food feeds my emotions...call me "Captain Obvious."

I've been doing some research on my family history, and I found a fascinating story. My family resided in London, England for a few hundred years, and I thought I would just find a bunch of uppety WASPs. But I discovered that my first cousin five times removed married a Native from Canada and moved from London, England to Brantford, Ontario to be with him in the early 1800s. One of their five sons, Peter Edmund Jones, a distantly related cousin of mine, was the first "Native" (he was 1/4) to obtain his medical doctorate in Canada and published the first known Native journal. 

Interesting stuff, huh? But as I was travelling to Brantford for my son's soccer festival Saturday, it came to me. Many of my family members in this line, including my belated grandfather, were Anglican ministers who did work with Native Canadians. Simply put, they were colonizers. They stole Native society away. 

I cried. For the first time, I realized how perplexing it is when someone internalizes the wrongs of their ancestors. Like Ben Affleck finding out his ancestors were slave owners. How do you manage the tumour that puts on your soul? Is it yours? More importantly, is it yours to amend?

On the other hand, I am sure men like my grandfather, who I've heard wonderful stories about, were trying to dedicate their lives to good, to their God. This is admirable, right?

One thing is certain: the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. 

The road to Brantford took me to Eliza Field's house "Echo Villa," and I read more about her after we drove by. Eliza was the daughter of my great x5 grandparents, from a family who brought light and cleanliness to Londoners care of their multi-generational soap and wax chandler company, Field's. She met Rev. Peter on his tour through London and returned with him to Canada, converting Natives and helping create the reservations that exist here today, for good or for bad. At the time, the couple thought Native people shouldn't have their lives disrupted by European traditions. They tried to protect Native rights and culture in a rapidly changing Canada. Even if it was under the guise of Christianity. At least, that's how the history is written.

"Echo Villa" was named after the area, where it was said that unusual voices could be heard coming from the woods. And isn't is strange how how our family history still echos in us?

All of this to say I ate like crap on Saturday. 

 

...The cake pop is still in my purse. I think it's time to throw it out.