Bloodlines

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March 17, 2026- Today being St. Patrick’s Day, my thoughts go to the Irish heritage on both my mother’s and father’s sides. The Kusches, who hailed from Szcezcin, Poland, back when it was Stettin, Pomerania, ended up in St; Louis and Chicago, by the mid-19th Century. Papa Kusch journeyed east, as a young man, and became a shoemaker in Boston, and a small farmer in Saugus. Before they were Kusches, though, they were Cooks-in the area around Wexford, Ireland. Poverty, and the Hanseatic League’s allure, brought them to the Baltic shores. The family was proud of having been prosperous in Germany, and in the Midwest, and I heard little about our Irish roots, but I always felt a draw to the Emerald Isle. Mom had me pledge to look into her side of the family, when we talked of the genealogy that my Dad’s older brother had compiled. I thought that meant going to Pomerania, but last summer’s visit to Wexford, and nearby Rosslare, brief as it was, introduced me to a few people who looked strikingly like my mother and aunts. I later learned their family name was Cook. Part of me wants to go back and spend more time there, but that will need to wait.

My granddaughter will have far taller order, should she ever want to check out her roots. Half of her bloodline is Korean, and there are probably some Chinese ancestors. going way back. The other half is Heinz 57: German, English, Irish, French, Penobscot, Jewish, Lithuanian, Romanian, and Scottish. Her present and near term well-being, though, has me refocusing my energies. The journeys I undertake in the foreseeable future are all along the paths of introducing a little soul to the wider world.

That brings me to a separate point. There was once, at a Baha’i-sponsored conference in Florida, a zone set aside for protesters. Neo-Nazis and Black Separatists found themselves next to one another, in that small zone. There are, on both the Far Right and Far Left, those who today preach the credo of division. The truth about human relations is “whatever we say it is”, and any who call for reconciliation between ethnic groups or “racial” entities are accused of clinging to outmoded, discarded concepts. I beg to differ: It is the very divisions to which they cling that are outmoded, counterproductive and dangerous. Clothing them in academic jargon, or using tones of ridicule, do nothing to bring a longed-for peace. I have to wonder if peace is even what they want- or is conflict more alluring?

Regardless, as Hana and others of her generation show, bloodlines are no respecters of truly outmoded ideologies.

First Laugh

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March 6, 2026- Hana laughed just before her mother and I had lunch, this noon. It marked the first time either of us had witnessed her chuckling. She is very happy, when we bring her to the bouncy chair at our mealtimes. The sense of being included has already been integrated in her 2 1/2 month old mind. It is a tradition of sorts- Penny and I always had Aram with us at breakfast and dinner. (I didn’t always get back for lunch, but when I did, he was with us then, also.) I initiated having her at table for dinner, and her parents were quick to affirm.

She chuckled periodically, throughout the day-and as I fed her a nightcap bottle, she was thinking about something funny and let the amusement process, laughing quietly before starting to take her nourishment. As the days roll by and she has more experiences in her memory, I fully expect she will find something to joyfully recall. When she develops language, I’m sure she will share them with us.

Dineh people have a tradition, where the first person to make a baby laugh gets to throw a laughing party for the family. I did so once, for a little boy who is now 39 years of age. In Korean tradition, a baby is honoured on the 100th day after birth. Aram, as we were living in Jeju, Korea in the days of his babyhood, was given a 100 Day Party and wore a hanbok, the garb of a baby on the hundredth day. He was also given a tiny ring, which we probably still have in the jewelry box.

Hana will have a hundredth day party. We will also honour her laughter, as well as any other milestones she passes before then. She is likely to have several things to “say” about this. Her cooing and babbling are quite frequent now. We engage her in conversation, to encourage these.

The Road to Diamond, Day 109: Cultural Markers

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March 17, 2025- I wore a teal-coloured shirt today. It was the closest I had to green, which many in the U.S. wear on St. Patrick’s Day, which is today. There is a plethora of chlorophyll about-green punch, green beer, even green eggs. No one wants green beef or chicken, of course, so red and white still colour our meats.

We honour a variety of cultural markers in the United States, a testimony to our status as a nation built by immigrants-some here since ancient times and others descended from those who have arrived since the establishment of a settlement in Pensacola, in what is now Florida, in 1559. We have evolved as a nation that has welcomed people from every other nation on Earth-as have several others in their turn: Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Mexico, South Africa, Argentina, Chile, Peru and so on.

In today’s world, one can go to virtually any nation and find people from just about any other country. There is no real homogeneity, in terms of “ethnic purity”. We are in a place of sharing, yet there is a curious notion, among some, that cultural markers belong only to those who claim ownership of that culture. There is a view that “cultural appropriation” takes place, whenever those outside a cultural group show too much interest or enjoyment of its markers.

No one wants to lose their identity, and this is hardly the point of cultural sharing. It is wise to note when anyone, either in or out of the cultural group, tries to turn its practices into a mere money-making venture or combine it with some sort of unicultural mish-mash. It is best to resist such ersatz practices. Culture is best seen as an expression of the heart, and further as a voice to the identity of a people.

I do have Irish ancestry, on both sides of my family. My father’s paternal grandmother was pure Irish. My mother’s paternal forebears migrated from Ireland to Germany, during the Hanseatic Era, then came to the United States in the early Nineteenth Century. I also have French, English, German and Penobscot Nation ancestry. Some cultural practices could flow authentically from me; others, not so easily.

I have spent much time among Dineh and Hopi people, as well as Koreans and Filipinos. I have enjoyed a great deal of these four cultures, especially food and the arts. I have subsumed little of the outward cultural markers of these peoples; that is not my place. I do, however, honour the deeper energy behind their cultures and have put the most honourable features of their heritage to use in my own service to mankind. For example, the tendency of Dineh or Hopi to listen, deeply, to someone, without jumping into an argument or engaging in one-upmanship, has stood me well, on a great many occasions. The fastidiousness of Koreans and the gentle patience of Filipinos have also imparted lessons to me, in my daily life.

Man has always been on the move, and encountering those with different ways of conducting daily life is the lot of us all. Cultural markers need not be a barrier between groups.

Erin go bragh!