Prologue to Acres of Bitterness

PROLOGUE:

Everyone has a certain curiosity about their heritage and I have decided that the time has come for me to investigate mine.  I believed it would be an enjoyable pursuit back into the archives of my genealogy, little did I know how far removed from the simple realm of things this adventure would be.

There has always been something missing, I have always felt, both in my heart and in my mind.  Especially in my heart, I have had painful, pinching twinges shoot through my delicate life sustaining organ that began almost to the hour that we left our beloved home on Allison Creek.  And I would experience flashes of light and unfamiliar scenes quite often throughout my life, quite often interrupting my normal thought processes and terrifying me in my slumber.

My birth name was Josephine Anna LeClaire.  I am the result of a French-Canadian father and a Native American mother.  My first name stems from a two-fold admiration; my father’s to the Emperess Josephine, wife to Napoleon Bonaparte and my mother’s to Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce tribe, who was her uncle. 

To begin tracing my mother’s history appeared to be the logical point of origin; she was born in White Bird, Idaho and was a member of the Nez Perce tribe.  As for my father’s origin, he was born in Alberta, Canada in the wilderness area known as Gregoire Lake Provincial Park. The two met as young adults by mere happenstance and believed that they were fated to meet and fall in love.  My mother’s family had moved down to Riggins, just a short distance south of White Bird, and my father relocated there from British Columbia to work in the mill to be closer to her.

 You are always taking a chance when you attempt to learn the complete story, that, you may also be made aware of things that were not revealed for a reason.  Which is why it is now, only after both of my parents are deceased, and all of my own children are grown and on their own that I am putting aside my present family life in search of my lineage.  My father would always say, however, when my inquiring mind asked, that, “you know all that you need to know, Josie.”

My children, of course, met my decision with much skepticism and began strictly analyzing my motive and my need for closure in these matters. The general conception was that their mother and the grandmother to their children had “lost her mind.”  They thought I certainly must be mentally inept to even think of undertaking such a task.  “But you could get hurt, or lost or worse yet, be killed.”  I responded by telling them that they are viewing it in the incorrect context; I will not be trudging through the mountains or careening down the river in a canoe searching for clues.  Rather I am looking for the untold story.  It has become my mission in life, my duty, to discover life lines to pass on to their children’s children. Our history as it stands, based on the information I was given, is not complete and certainly not truthful.  And now that I have reached this point in time, I have been presented with the opportunity to discover all of the pieces of the puzzle that are my life.