Some weekends are about catching flights and chasing fun, but this one? This weekend was all about connecting the dots of my family story.
It started with our monthly meet-up. My cousin Serenity and I were catching up at Village Creek Coffee Company ☕️ in Silsbee, Texas. She chose this as the destination for her coffee blog. We laughed, swapped stories, and talked ancestry over lattes and desserts (you can find Serenity everywhere as @serenitythecoffeehouseblogger if you love a good coffee adventure!). That coffeehouse chat sparked a feeling that it was time to dig a little deeper into the Hamilton family roots.
Brunch at Village Creek Coffee House
I returned to Silsbee a few days later, and my first stop was the Icehouse Museum & Cultural Center 🏛️. If you've never been, put it on your Texas list! The moment I walked in, I met Susan, the museum's keeper of history, who turned out to be a genealogist's dream. I shared my mission, and she dove straight into old directories, as if she were on a treasure hunt. Right there in those yellowed pages, we found the address for the Hamilton homestead.
Of course, I had to see it for myself. The original house is now long gone, replaced by a camper. I didn't meet the current resident, so a return trip is definitely on my to-do list because it has to be a family member. (right?) There's still more story waiting out there, I just know it. 🚗🌳
But the journey didn't end there! Susan told me, "Come on, let's go," and before I knew it, we were off to Kirby Cemetery. The day was scorchingly hot ☀️—Texas doing what Texas does best—but the grass was lush and green beneath my feet as we searched. There, I found my great-grandmother's grave: Mariah Dill Hamilton, affectionately known as Big Mama. My middle name, Marrette, is a variation of hers, a living link between us. I don't recall meeting Big Mama, though I'm sure I must have as a little girl. Still, standing at her grave, her spirit felt close and comforting.
Next to her were the graves of my great-aunt Celestine, great-uncle Arvie, and his wife Essie. Each one is a piece of the puzzle that is my family's story. I stood in that peaceful place, heart full, knowing I was exactly where I was meant to be.
Back at the museum, I wandered through rooms filled with Silsbee's past: old school desks, historic phone books 📚, sepia-toned photos, antique medicine bottles, and documents tracing the journey from enslavement to freedom. One exhibit stopped me in my tracks. It was a real receipt for the purchase of a slave family. It was a hard truth to witness, but a necessary reminder of the resilience woven into our story. My ancestors' survival is my inheritance. 💪🏽
This trip wasn't just about research or nostalgia; it was about both. It was about finding my place in a bigger story. Piece by piece, ancestor by ancestor, I'm discovering what it means to be rooted, resilient, and deeply proud. I'm sure a short story or a book based on all this is somewhere in my creative mind.
If you're even thinking about starting your ancestry search, I say go for it! Ancestry.com is a great place to start. You never know where the journey will take you.
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