I honor the kin of blood and spirit who have passed into the Underworld. I recognize all those on whose shoulders I stand, those who, from beyond the grave, guard me on the journey, guide me along my path, and bless me in my pursuits. I offer thanks to those who lend me strength, courage, power, and inspiration to live every day as fully and meaningfully as possible. I give water to refresh you, tobacco to bless and strengthen you, stories to entertain you, and much more.
Many thanks and many blessings to those who have gone before.
Wandering Woman Wondering 
3 replies on “Honored Dead”
Just popping by to say that’s a genuinely gorgeous setup! gives me the warm fuzzies.
Many thanks, Scaz!
My first ancestor to come to America, was the son of an Irish coachman. His name was Thomas, and he was from Portaferry, in County Down. He was nineteen when he left – probably aboard what would come to be called a “coffin ship,” a few years later during the famine. He got off the boat in 1840 in New York city, lived at first in what today is called the East Village. He married a girl named Eliza Jane Curley and around the time their first child was born they moved across the East River to Brooklyn. I get a pretty strong impression that Eliza Jane liked music. In Brooklyn they had six kids, all boys, and lived a block and a half from the 39th Street ferry. Thomas grew up near a ferry in Ireland, so its notable when he settled down it was near a ferry. There they were able to live – he was a watchman, and she probably sold vegetables or such by the roadside in a pastoral setting until the city grew and warehouses sprung up along the riverfront. Eliza Jane died in 1880, and another story began.