Tag: ancestry

My Part of a Bigger Story

The author reflects on their role as a family historian, inspired by their father’s dedication to uncovering their lineage. Through research, they explore the impact of ancestors on their identity and feelings, particularly focusing on great-grandfather Benedict Hammock’s experiences as a deaf and mute pioneer. The narrative emphasizes familial love and connection across generations.

By default, I have become our family historian. It began with my father in the late 1970s, and I have tried to honor him by continuing his work. Back then, tracing and locating family historical documents was difficult. Dad traveled to many courthouses and cemeteries across the South for clues and answers. Today, family history documents are available that my dad could only have dreamed of, making the search far less difficult.

I’ve been told, “What does it matter where one comes from or learning about ancestors you have never known?” I believe the bigger question is this: could each family lineage tell a glorious story of triumphs and tragedies that would rival the best Hollywood movie script? After years of research, I can affirm that the answer is YES. That answer leads naturally to the story that follows!

How did the lives of my ancestors affect me? Did their decisions affect where I live today and, in turn, who I love today? Did my family’s lineage nudge me toward where I am today, and help explain my place now? 

If I met any of my great-grandparents, what would they think of me and my life today? Did they ever look into the future and ponder the lives and journeys of their grandchildren or great-grandchildren? Would they love me? Could they love me? Is it possible to love someone you’ve never met, and to feel the joy or pain of a family member we have never known, and carry that feeling forward?

While I don’t know what they would think of me, I do know what I think of them, based on personal letters, historical documents, and interviews. From these sources, a portrait has been painted in my mind of each individual I have researched—some just a mere sketch, others a beautiful rendering of what I can know of who they were—and that is how I begin to see them more clearly. 

During the 1700s, the name Benedict was as common as William or John and remained so until the treachery of the infamous Benedict Arnold. Major General Benedict Arnold had the utmost trust of his Commander-in-Chief, future first President of the United States, George Washington. Benedict ultimately betrayed General Washington and the Continental Army, switching his allegiance to the British and becoming a Brigadier General in the British Army, fighting the same men he once commanded. 

Benedict Arnold was born in the British colony of Connecticut in 1741, but a few years later in 1755 in another British colony, Virginia, Benedict Hammock was born, carrying the name into a different time and place. It is believed that Benedict Hammock was born near Richmond, Virginia, and moved through the Carolina Colonies with his wife, Sarah. After a season in Wilkes County, Georgia, he ultimately lived out his later years in Jones County, Georgia.

One would believe that Benedict would have shared a story similar to that of most other pioneer settlers who came to call Georgia home, but a few lines in his will tell a different story, making his journey unlike most others.

Those lines are:

“In the Name of God, Amen. I, Benedict Hammock, of Jones County, Georgia, being in health of body and sound mind, memory and understanding, but deprived of two of the greatest blessings that man can possibly enjoy from my birth; that is of hearing and speaking but through Providence can understand perfectly by signs how to trade and transact my business and which signs I am perfectly satisfied that the witnesses of this my last Will understand.” (April 22, 1825)

I wonder how the fact that her father could not hear or speak from his birth affected his daughter and my great-great-great-grandmother Rebecca “Becky” Hammock Culpepper, wife of Joel Culpepper? 

The Bible says in Galatians 6:2, “Bear ye one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

I wonder how Becky Culpepper helped carry her father’s burden of never hearing the sound of a bird’s tweet, the bark of a dog, the noise of approaching danger, or the sweet voice of his wife and daughter.

All of my research shows that she was a wonderful woman of dignity, grace, and kindness to all.

Granddad Benedict, it has been wonderful to meet you and to know that the lifelong burden you carried would have helped you understand some of my burdens today. I happen to believe, that you would love me.

One thing I know, as I listen to the birds sing, Grandad: I Love You!

Have You Seen Mary

Sarah, curious about her mother Mary’s mysterious family, finds a trunk after her mother’s passing. Inside, she discovers her mother’s hidden past, including a scandal that led to her disownment. Corresponding with her great-uncle Charles, Sarah learns about her family’s history and the truth behind her mother’s silence.

Sarah is now opening a trunk in her mother’s closet, which she had seen before, and often asked, “What’s in the truck, mother?” “Oh, nothing important,” her mother would reply or say something similar. Today is different. Mom has passed away and is not here for her to ask once again, “What’s in the truck?” She thought, “If it wasn’t important, why did her mother keep it all these years? “ 

Sarah’s mother, Mary, was an open book about her life except for one thing: her family. Only in passing did she share stories from her childhood, but only mentioning her mother, brothers, and sister. Sarah knew little about her mother’s “people.” In the South, we often refer to our family and close friends as “our people.”

As she grew older, Sarah became curious about her mother’s “people” but learned not to bring up the subject. She left the “mystery trunk” to last as she went through her mother’s things. Now that her mom was not here to say no, Sarah cautiously opened the truck, not knowing what she would find.

The hinges on the old trunk creaked as Sarah lifted its lid. She found some legal documents, her parent’s marriage license, and other things. Then she noticed a small box containing pictures that looked like her mother as a child, but she wasn’t sure. A few photos of a family that she didn’t recognize. However, written on the back of one photo was “my younger brothers Rev. Charlie, Ab, and Mercer.” Sarah thought, “Who’s younger brothers?”

She dug further into her mother’s past and saw an envelope named Uncle Charles and a return address. Sarah laid the envelope aside and kept digging. One day, she got the courage to write to Reverend Uncle Charlie. To her surprise, Uncle Charlie responded with a letter: “Hello, Mary. I’m so glad you wrote. I am your great-uncle Charles, a Baptist pastor and a younger brother of your grandfather Sam.” (Sam and Charlie were two of seventeen siblings.)

In the months ahead, Sarah and great-uncle Charles corresponded. She learned family stories and names she had never heard. The one big question for Sarah was, “Why did mother never mention ‘her people’?” She would soon have her answer.

Sarah’s mother, Mary, was the oldest daughter of Sam and Mary Ella. Sam married his sweetheart on December 31, 1882. Soon came two sons and a beautiful baby girl, Mary, named after her mother. Mary’s young life was typical for a family in the reconstruction of the South, that is, until age 16. Mary found herself with child and not married. 

The reputation of many Southern families would rise or crumble according to strict adherence to society’s expectations.  Mary mustered the nerve to tell her mom and dad about her “situation.” Back then, when a family had a “situation,” the young lady would go “visit family” just far enough away for the news to not reach home, and after nine months or so, she would return. While her mother’s face displayed disappointment, her dad was so furious that he threw her out of their home, hoping to save the family’s reputation.

As the anger of Mary’s father (the Reverend Sam) lessened, he expected her to return home, but she never did. Month after month, Sam and Mary Ella waited. Sam became desperate to find his oldest daughter, so he changed jobs and was hired by a railroad company as a food “butcher boy.” (In the 1880s, the U.S. colloquialism Butcher and Butcher Boy referred to a vendor of candy, fruit, sandwiches, newspapers, etc., on street corners and trains, at sporting events, etc.)

This new job on the trains allowed him to repeat the question in every train car and depot: “Have you seen Mary?” For years, he traveled and asked that question. Sadly, Sam and Mary Ella’s marriage could not withstand the stress of how Sam handled the “situation” with their daughter, and they divorced in 1915.

As their letters continued, great Uncle Charles would tell Sarah more about her grandfather’s “people.”  Charles contacted his brother Sam and told him about his granddaughter, but no one knew if Sarah and Sam ever met. Sarah’s grandmother, Mary Ella, died in 1935 and was buried with her “people.” Sarah’s grandfather, Rev. Samuel Bartley Culpepper (my great-grandfather Mercer’s older brother), died in 1941 at 83, probably still asking, “Has anyone seen Mary?”