It is endlessly fascinating. Our very deep history gives me chills. Predictably, my mother's line is Howland- predictably, knowing the family.
Bringing this back up, it's crazy, thinking what these people did. They came ashore- and that's it. The rest was up to them. I may be addicted to looking at the night sky, vast and cold, through New England pines. Then I can go back in the cabin. In the morning, get in the boat, find the darn car, drive to the store. The Pilgrims? Nothing. Trees and moss and rocks and wildlife no one had ever seen and the bay at their backs.
I think it was the power of God that led them and gave them confidence.
Peter Browne? One of the most interesting! Goodness. And intrepid. He must have left his family behind for this chance to go somewhere different. You wonder what he would have thought, knowing how beloved his name now is.
Well, in defense of memories, came across an article which must have been researched and written by one of us. The claim is, our memories are not, in fact, becoming poor. We merely have so much more to remember, unsurprisingly, it begins to apparently fall out of our ears somewhere. I'd source the article but.......
Don't you marvel at your ancestors, settling Maine, of all places? Lakes freeze over from what, October until April, mosquitos and black fly season, wildlife with very large teeth. We can love Maine, and carefully- without knowing what was there or having goodness, an ability to get oneself through a winter ( can you imagine the stacks of wood? ), what on earth did they do, centuries ago?