So, there was a barn on the farm that my family owned for 140 years (approximately). It was an amazing barn. It was huge and imposing, inside there was a section that my great-grandfather had made into his little work shop, complete with a shoe template.
This remarkable barn stood over a century. It anchored a family to that plot of land for 5 generations. I often think of my ancestor, Valentine (I assume that was not his stage name) who originally set himself down on that land and said "home" with such resonance that almost a century and a half later his ancestors were still nesting there. When I think of that place I have a slew of memories all my own that made it home for me.
In fact, at several times over my life I've been asked to picture the place on the planet where I felt most secure and happy. It is always that farm, in the doorway of that barn, my grandmother is walking toward me calling me in for lunch. She wants me to come and ring the bell to alert everyone else that lunch is ready.
Valentine created that safe and happy place, never knowing what it would mean to me. He was a German immigrant from Canada who decided to live in a German settlement near three rivers. He farmed the land and made investments (?). He settled somewhere far from any safe place he'd ever known and created a place that sustained his family. He must have been something else.
I hope like hell heck that I still have a little of Valentine's blood running through my veins. Because I need to build my own "barn" now. It's probably not going to stand for a century and a half. It most certainly will not be an actual barn. Whatever it is, it will have to sustain me and my daughters for the rest of my life. I'm pretty sure I can do it.
I hope I'll have a work shop.