In 1988, I was playing guitar and flute in an original band called, Geneva. After the release of our first EP, No Time To Pray, in 1987, we went back into the studio the following year to record a half-dozen songs for our next album. These were recorded at SRS Studios in London, Ontario, Canada, with Juno-award winning producer Dan Broadbeck (back when he was still Danny and before he won a Juno.) We ran out of money so the recordings were never completed and the second album was never released. This is not a final mix. The recordings were only rough-mixed onto audio cassettes that ended up in my basement for over 30 years. In 2022, I converted the recordings to mp3 and ran them through audio filters to clean them up and do my best to compensate for 3 decades of deterioration.

“Thunder”
Words and music by Lori DeGraw

This freedom’s got no chance to reign supreme
Someone’s got to take control
Mixed emotions feed the soul of me
Granite eyes take you home.

Stifled cries from the land of the free
Starting versus something known
Somewhere in his heart he pleads to me
Somehow I know I must go

Assorted colours fade to morning light
A never ending cyclone floods, floods.
Faded vision, jaded thunder
Where the fever never grows.

Somehow, somewhere, I might feel complete
Before I deal the final blow
Somewhere in your heart you beat for me
Yet I feel you in my soul

Assorted colours fade to morning light
A never ending cyclone floods, floods
Faded vision, jaded thunder
Where the fever never grows.

Credits

Produced by Geneva and Danny Broadbeck
Engineered by Danny Broadbeck
Recorded at SRS Studios, London, Ontario, Canada, 1988.
Audio recovered in 2022 from 30 year old audio cassette tapes
Photo by Ian Houghton

The post Thunder by Geneva appeared first on Scattered Wisdom from the Saddle - Rev. Ryk Brown.

In 1988, I was playing guitar and flute in an original band called, Geneva. After the release of our first EP, No Time To Pray, in 1987, we went back into the studio the following year to record a half-dozen songs for our next album. These were recorded at SRS Studios in London, Ontario, Canada, under the direction of Juno-award winning producer Dan Broadbeck (back when he was still Danny and before he won a Juno.) We ran out of money so the recordings were never completed and the second album was never released.

This is not a final mix. The recordings were only rough-mixed onto audio cassettes that ended up in my basement for over 30 years. In 2022, I converted the recordings to mp3 and ran them through audio filters to clean them up and do my best to compensate for 3 decades of deterioration.

I wrote this song about a friend who was going through a rough time. We took a walk one night along some railroad tracks as I listened to his struggle.

“Walk With You”
Words and music by Ryk Brown

Night time,
I crossed the railroad tracks
And I looked up into the sky
I see a million white specks on black

A friend cried out
Showed his lonely side
Most caring I’ve seen (walk, walk, walk, walk alone)
He has something hurting to hide. (walk, walk, walk, walk alone)

And you say I’ll walk with you (walk with you)
You say I’ll walk with you (walk with you)
You say I’ll walk with you (walk with you)
I’ll walk with you (walk with you)

Surrounded most of all
by those who care for you
You’re not at ease with yourself (walk, walk, walk, walk alone)
Something hurting to hide (walk, walk, walk, walk alone)

Then I’ll walk with you (Walk with you)
You know I’ll walk with you (Walk with you)

Walk with you (walk with you)
You said I’ll walk with you (walk with you)
You know you said I’ll walk with you (walk with you)
And I’ll walk with you (walk with you)

You said I’ll walk with you (walk with you)
You said I’ll walk with you (walk with you)
Walk with you (walk with you)
And I’ll walk with you (walk with you)
Walk with you

Credits

Produced by Geneva and Danny Broadbeck
Engineered by Danny Broadbeck
Recorded at SRS Studios, London, Ontario, Canada, 1988.
Audio recovered in 2022 from 30 year old audio cassette tapes
Photo by Ian Houghton

The post Walk With You by Geneva appeared first on Scattered Wisdom from the Saddle - Rev. Ryk Brown.

Ah, those skeletons: Dealing with difficult family stories

Digging in the dirt
Stay with me, I need support
I’m digging in the dirt
To find the places I got hurt
Open up the places I got hurt

— Peter Gabriel, “Digging in the Dirt” (from the album, Us, 1992)

Be careful when you go digging through the dirt of your family’s past. You never know what skeletons you may find in your family’s closet! In this article, we’re going to discuss how we deal with difficult family stories when we encounter them, especially the stories that have been kept hidden. We’re going to discuss the impact of family secrets.

This article is part of a series about how learning the stories of our family history can create pathways to spiritual healing and wholeness.

Skeletons

When people undertake researching their family history, it is not uncommon to eventually come across a skeleton in the closet — a family secret — a difficult story that may have been covered up or supressed in some way.

We are shaped by our family histories, whether we like it or not. We are shaped by the good stories and the bad stories. We are shaped by the stories we know about and the stories that are kept hidden. The more we learn about our family histories, the better we can understand ourselves.

We are shaped by our parents, and so on…

If we are shaped by how our parents raised us, and our parents were shaped by how their parents raised them, then the events that affected our parents and grandparents’ lives have had an indirect impact on who we are. And, since our grandparents were shaped by their parents, then the lives of our great-grandparents have also had an indirect impact on who we are. In fact, we are indirectly shaped by the lives of all of our ancestors in some way or another.

Christopher Walken’s family’s skeleton in the closet

Academy Award-winning actor, Christopher Walken (Reservoir Dogs, Annie Hall, Jungle Book, et al), grew up not knowing who is real maternal grandfather was. The story of his family history was featured on an episode of Finding Your Roots, hosted by Dr. Henry Louis Gates Jr.

Discovering the stories of our ancestors can be a profoundly transformative experience; changing the way we see ourselves, our family, and our shared history.

Dr. Henry Louis Gates Jr.

Walken knew that the maternal grandfather he grew up with wasn’t his real grandfather, but his mother would never talk about who her real father was. Her birth certificate listed her as “illegitimate” with no father’s name recorded.

The show’s producers researched Walken’s family history and learned the truth about his real grandfather’s identity. He was a convict who had been arrested around the time of his daughter’s birth for selling stolen merchandise. He served five years in prison, and, shortly after his release from prison, he died, so he was never around to raise his daughter.

For Christopher Walken’s mother, the absence of her birth father would have had a strong impact on her childhood. And it would have shaped the person she became as an adult. And it would have had an impact on how she parented her three children, including Christopher Walken. And it would have indirectly impacted the person that Christopher Walken is today.

Walken’s mother refused to discuss the identity of her father. She would not allow the topic to be brought up. And she went to her grave not revealing the true identity of her father. She kept it secret. This was a story that was not told in Walken’s family, yet it still impacted Walken’s mother and her children. I need to underscore this point: even though Christopher Walken and his siblings knew nothing of the true identity of their maternal grandfather, his existence and the story of his life still had an impact on who they are today. Learning the truth helped Christopher Walken see his mother is a more sympathetic and even courageous light.

My own family’s skeleton in the closet

I discovered my own family’s skeleton in the closet. In the course of my own family history research, I learned some difficult truths about my great-grandfather. He was born in the midst of sectarian violence in Northern Ireland and that shaped who he became as an adult. He was a respected and venerated police officer who rose through the ranks to become chief of our local police force. He was a decorated war vet. He was acknowledged for heroic conduct during a local violent labour dispute. And he was also the same person who was partially responsible for the wrongful imprisonment of scores of innocent Italians during WWII. He was also a violent father. And he was likely a little too friendly with the mafia. He was all of these things. He was both saint and sinner. He was human.

The Chief and the King – The story of Police Chief Tom Brown and mobster Rocco Perri

My great-grandfather’s involvement in the Italian internments was never mentioned in my family growing up. It was a hidden family secret. The person that he was impacted how he parented my grandfather, which impacted how my grandfather parented my father and how my father parented me and how I parented my children. The things I disliked about my father took on a new sympathetic framing for me as I learned more about my father’s childhood and his father’s childhood and his grandfather’s childhood. I was able to see all of them as the flawed, imperfect human beings that they were, all trying to do the best they could in the circumstances of their lives.

Family Secrets

Family secrets can create invisible emotional prisons that bind us up behind emotional bars that we cannot see. We may stumble through life constrained by those emotional bars and find ourselves bashing our heads against barriers that we don’t even know exist.

“While keeping a family secret from the outside world may be advisable in some instances for privacy or protection, keeping secrets within the family can prove problematic. Here are five reasons why:

1. Keeping secrets can destroy relationships.
2. Keeping secrets can affect children’s lives.
3. Keeping secrets can cause suspicion and resentment.
4. Keeping secrets can create a false sense of reality.
5. Keeping secrets can cause stress-related illness.”

“5 Reasons Why Keeping Family Secrets Could Be Harmful” – PsychCentral.com

When family secrets are revealed, it can sometimes result in “a-ha” moments where something murky in our lives suddenly makes sense. It may create sympathies for what our parents, grandparents or other ancestors lived through. Where those family members may have had a negative impact on us, it may help us to view their lives with more compassion, and possibly even with understanding and forgiveness.

Revealing family secrets can also sometimes cause resentments for family members. Some secrets may be hard to learn about. Some family members may feel that those secrets should remain secret. But secrets are inherently unhealthy by nature. And those secrets can impact us like ghosts, whether we realize it or not. When secrets are revealed, even if they’re difficult to hear about, that revelation has the potential power to set us free from whatever emotional prison those ghosts created for us.

(Jesus said,) “…and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

John 8.32

Saints and Sinners

Once a parent or grandparent has died, it is common for us to form a distorted image of them that is either saint or sinner. If they had a positive impact on our lives, then we may remember them as all good and nearly perfect. If they had a negative impact on our lives, then we may remember them as all bad with no redeeming qualities. When in reality, good or bad, they were probably a mixture of both. They did some things well and some things badly. They were neither saint nor sinner. They were flawed, imperfect human beings, just like us.

Flawed, imperfect human beings

Revealing family secrets, even difficult ones, can help us see our parents, grandparents, or ancestors as more human — flawed, not perfect, not all good and not all bad. It can help us see them as having done the best they could in the circumstances of their lives. And when we finally learn about circumstances that may have been previously kept hidden, it can help us to be more sympathetic to the challenges they had to live through.

And, in that moment, we may that find something in us feels a little bit better, a little bit healed, a little bit more whole. You may find that you have a clearer sense of who you are and why you are the person you are.

From generation to generation

There is a difficult passage found in the biblical book of Deuteronomy:

“…I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents to the third and fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me….”

Deuteronomy 5:9-10

Some people read this text and believe that God punishes children for the actions of their parents. That would be a cruel God. I think such a superficial interpretation of this text is a misunderstanding complicated by issues of translation from an ancient language and ancient context into a modern language and context. I fundamentally reject the notion of a God who punishes children for the actions of their parents, or a God who punishes anyone for the actions of someone else. We are all responsible for our own actions. However, I do believe that we are often subjected to the consequences of other people’s actions, and that may feel like unfair punishment. In that sense, it may sometimes feel like we are being punished for the actions of our parents.

I believe in a God of love. Another way of interpreting this passage, in the context of this blog series, may be to see it as the voice of one who feels unfairly punished because of the actions (known or unknown) of their parents or ancestors. The struggles in our parents’ and ancestors’ lives do impact our lives and the lives of our children, and their children too. Negative experiences can impact families for as much as four generations or more, if they are not addressed and healed. Unhealed trauma often just perpetuates down through generations until it is healed. But when those struggles are addressed and healed, they can be transformed into blessings that can last a thousand generations.

This is part of an ongoing personal blog series exploring the relationship between family history and spirituality.

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When somebody asks you “What are your roots? Where does your family come from?” What is your answer? What are your real roots?

“You clearly identify as Scottish when your roots are clearly Irish. Why is that?”

I was asked that question by a distant cousin on my father’s side, while I was on a recent sabbatical trip to Scotland. I was exploring the spiritual significance of ancestry while immersing myself in the land of my ancestors, namely Scotland. My cousin is correct that, although we are both Canadian by birth, the ancestry we share on my father’s side comes from Northern Ireland, so we’re Irish. Right? It is also true that I identify the “land of my ancestors” as Scotland, not Ireland. Why is that?

Can DNA tell me my real roots?

It’s become popular to submit a saliva sample for DNA testing to determine one’s ethnic roots. My DNA profile says that I am:

• 30% Northern English and/or Lowland Anglo-Scottish
• 25% Scottish (Highland Gaelic)
• 20% Irish
• 20% Welsh
• 5% Norwegian

Shh! Don’t tell anyone that I’m really mostly English. I’ll have to turn in my kilt to the genealogy police! And, what’s up with the 5% Norwegian? I can go back ten generations and not find a single Norwegian ancestor!

Am I “clearly” Irish, as my cousin asserts? Are these my real roots?

Multiple ethnicities

Like many Canadians of European settler stock, I have multiple ethnic origins. Even if you, yourself, happen to be indigenous or an immigrant with a very clear and unified understanding of your ethnicity, if you go back far enough you’ll probably find some mixed ancestry. I don’t think there’s anything necessarily “clear” about roots at all. And the idea of pure ethnicity is fraught with danger.

How do we actually determine what our real roots are? How far back do we go to determine where our ancestors come from? Regardless of how many parents we were raised by, we are all born from two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, and a multitude of ancestors who may all come from one place, or who may come from many different places. Which ancestors determine your “clear” roots?

Why is genealogy patriarchal?

Who decided that your real roots come from your father’s side anyway? If you ask anyone where their family comes from, or what ethnicity they are, chances are that most people will answer based on where their father’s family came from. Too often we default to the paternal line. My father’s family originally came from Ireland, so, therefore, I must be Irish, right? What about my mother’s family? Each of my parents had two parents. They all contributed equally to the culture that formed me. Which ancestral line is my real roots? How far back do I have to go to figure that out?

Ethnic Ancestral Roots

Okay, let’s start with me. Any good genealogist will tell you to start with yourself and work backwards to find your real roots. I am Canadian-born as are both of my parents. If I determine my real roots by my parents’ generation, then my real roots appear to be fully Canadian. Is “Canadian” even an ethnicity?

No Irish here.

I have four grandparents. One was born in Canada, two were born in England, and one was born in Scotland. If I determine my real roots by my grandparents’ generation, then I appear to be half English, a quarter Scottish and a quarter Canadian.

Still no Irish here!

I have to go back to my great-grandparents to find my first Irish ancestor. In that generation I am:

• 50% English
• 25% Scottish
• 12.5% Canadian
• 12.5% Irish.

In my great-grandparents generation, my real roots are looking more English than Irish! So how can I say I’m Scottish?

If I go back even further, my Canadian great-grandmother’s parents were Scottish. Two of my English great-grandfathers’ families originally came from Wales and Scotland. So now I have four out of eight branches that are Scottish. That makes me actually half Scottish!

Is Irish really Irish?

Oh, but it gets murkier still! You see, my Irish ancestors weren’t actually Irish. They were Northern Irish Protestants, which makes them ethnically Scots-Irish or Ulster-Scots. Their ancestors originally came from Scotland, not Ireland. So, even my Irish ancestors were really Scottish!

And if you know anything about the turbulent ethnic and religious history of Northern Ireland, you’ll know that no Ulster-Scot Unionist would ever be caught dead identifying as Irish or flying the tri-colour flag of Ireland. They’d see themselves as firmly British and they’d happily shove the Union Jack in your face to prove it!

The only problem with identifying Ulster-Scots as ethnically Scottish or British is that, in census records, my great-grandfather consistently identified himself as Irish. There goes that idea.

Is Scottish really Scottish?

So, I’m looking more Scottish again! But what kind of Scottish? Scotland was geographically divided into two different ethnic groups: Highland Gaels and Lowland Scots.

Highland Gaels originally came from Ireland in the 6th century. Wait! So my Irish ancestors are really Scottish and my Scottish ancestors are really Irish?

Don’t forget the Picts! They were there first! They were ethnically related to the Welsh. And with all those Viking invasions, most Highlanders have generous infusions of Viking blood. (Maybe that’s where my 5% Norwegian comes from!)

Lowland Scots were Anglo-Saxons who were Germanic in origin. But there was also a smattering of Flemish thrown in just to complicate things even further.

My favourite Scottish history YouTuber, Bruce Fummey, is a bi-racial Scot with African roots, who says, “I see myself as Scottish, culturally…but I cheer for Ghana in the World Cup.” His sister identifies as fully Ghanaian, and his Ghanaian-Scottish nephew identifies as British.

Of course, English isn’t really English either

I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that those English ancestors I keep trying to ignore were originally an ethnic mix of Germanic Anglo-Saxons and French. And the French were a mixture of Celtic Gauls and Romans.

People migrate

People migrate, sometimes willingly, sometimes by force. When migrating from one country to another, how long do you have to be in the new country to be adopted into that ethnic culture? Years, generations, centuries? Even the countries we think we’re from may not be our real roots! Even “back home” people still “come from away.”

If I go back far enough, I’m going to have to start identifying as a Greco-Roman-Franco-Germanic-Celt!

And, if I go way, way back, like 60,000 years, then DNA science reveals that I’m actually African in origin! In fact, we’re all African in origin. All of humanity has its earliest roots in Africa!

Ugh. My head hurts. Maybe I should just be Canadian.

What is the difference between nationality, race, and ethnicity?

My best friend was born in Scotland, but raised in Canada since the age of 5. Is he Scottish or Canadian? He holds dual citizenship. He’s both.

For people who are also of mixed race backgrounds, the question of ethnic roots can be even more profound.

Nationality refers to citizenship. It’s geographic. Race refers to genetic characteristics. It’s biological. Ethnicity refers to cultural characteristics. Sometimes those are connected; sometimes they are not. When we ask about roots, we’re usually talking about ethnicity and culture.

The Canadian government says this about ethnicity:

“The United Nations states that ethnicity is broadly defined ‘based on a shared understanding of history and territorial origins (regional and national) of an ethnic group or community, as well as on particular cultural characteristics such as language and/or religion. Respondents’ understanding or views about ethnicity, awareness of their family background, the number of generations they have spent in a country, and the length of time since immigration are all possible factors affecting the reporting of ethnicity in a census.'”

StatsCan

So my ethnic roots have to do with the culture that shapes me and not about the colour of my skin or the country I was born in.

Academy Award winning actor/director Denzel Washington, explained this difference between race and ethnicity in a clear and helpful way. While explaining why his 2016 movie, Fences, needed to have a black director, he said, “It’s not about colour. It’s about culture.”

What about adoption?

What about those who were born into one culture, but raised in another? Is ethnicity determined by the family you were born into or the family who raised you? I have a friend who was born to Choctaw parents and raised by Scottish parents. Is my friend Choctaw or Scottish or both? Can we adopt the culture that we’re raised in? Can we be adopted by a culture that is different from our birth? Many adopted persons are drawn to genealogy (especially DNA) to learn more about their birth family. They may even meet members of their birth family, but that doesn’t negate the family they were raised in. Many adoptees feel a deep connection to both families. And, in the case of cross-cultural adoptions, many feel a connection to both cultures. What are their real roots? One, the other, or both?

What are your real roots?

Language, history, culture, and customs all combine to form our ethnic origin.

If your roots are mono-cultural then your ethnic origin may be clear…or is it? If you come from a mixed ethnic background then the math of your real roots is likely far less simple than DNA companies would have you believe. You have the opportunity to search your roots to see what ethnicity or ethnicities most connect with your soul.

I think real roots are not necessarily clear at all. Which ancestor(s) you identify with to determine your real roots is not dictated by the genealogy police. It’s a choice you make. How far back you cut the family tree to count the rings in the trunk, is subjective. When you have multiple roots (as many Canadians do) then determining which roots you identify with is subjective and personal, and will be different for everyone.

Am I clearly Irish? No. Am I clearly Scottish? No. But I feel mostly Scottish. The truth is that I have multiple ethnic origins. I have multiple cultural origins. I have multiple roots. Which of those roots I choose to identify with is based on what makes my soul sing. For me, that’s my Scottish roots. And that is a purely subjective and personal choice. When I recently visited my ancestors’ home in Glen Tarken, Scotland, I felt a deep peace in my soul and knew that these were my roots. (For more on that soul-nourishing experience, click here.)

In the end, we’re all adopted siblings in one connected family.

I guess I don’t have to turn in my kilt to the genealogy police after all.

This is part of an ongoing personal blog series exploring the relationship between family history and spirituality.

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I recently returned home from a sabbatical trip to Scotland, the home of my ancestors. My teenage son, Ewan, joined me for part of the trip, where we had the experience of going home for the first time.

Home is a place we come from, not a place we go to. It’s possible to go back home, but how can we go home for the first time if we have never been there before? How? By visiting our ancestral home. Even as Ewan and I arrived for the first time, it felt strangely like we’d been here before. In our case, the home in question was the clachan of Morell in Easter Glen Tarken on Loch Earn in Highland Perthshire, Scotland.

My son, Ewan, had previously visited the graves of our Scottish immigrant ancestors in Puslinch, Ontario, Canada, not far from where we live. Our ancestors had been forced to leave their remote Highland glen in the 1830s. Today, their former home is a pile of rubble with fragments of walls here and there. Having stood where our ancestors were buried, I got to see the look of amazement on Ewan’s face as we set eyes for the very first time on the place where they were born.

The “Feels”

The hike up to Glen Tarken takes almost an hour from the nearby village of St. Fillans on the shore of Loch Earn. The hike is all uphill through forest, over streams, and though fields of ferns as high as our shoulders.

As we broke out of the brush and into the clearing of Easter Glentarken for the first time, I felt something stir deeply inside of me. In the genealogical community, we call it “the feels.” It’s an unexplainable transcendent feeling that comes from standing on the land where one’s ancestors once lived. There’s something deep and visceral in that ancient connection to the land of our ancestors. I don’t think science can explain it, but spirituality can.

Even though we’d never been here before, it felt like we were returning. Returning home for the very first time. Something deep in me felt settled and whole. Reunited with a source of my identity and my being.

Even Ewan felt it. I watched him as he stood still, with eyes full of wonder and awe as he sought to comprehend this amazing sight in front of him. Then he took off at a run exploring every inch of the place like he didn’t want to miss any of it. Not a word passed our lips for a long time as we just wanted to absorb this place into our being.

My 5x-great-grandfather built this place in the early 1700s. His blood and sweat were in these stones. There was something profound here. We could both feel it in our bones.

I Wish I Had a Place Like That

A friend recently commented, “I wish I had a place like that. I wish I had a place that felt like my ancestral home. But I don’t know where my ancestors came from.”

I didn’t know I had a place like this until I started researching my family history. Previously, all I knew was that my family came from the city of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, where I now live. I knew nothing of our ancient roots. I’d never heard of Easter Glentarken. It wasn’t until I started researching one generation at a time, going back as far as I could, that I discovered this beautiful glen. And the more I learned about my roots, the more I felt like pieces of me, ancient pieces, were falling into place. I was becoming more whole. I was becoming more “me.”

Maybe there is a place like this in your past, waiting to be discovered. Waiting to be experienced. Waiting for you to go home for the first time.

From “Missing Piece” to “Deep Peace”

The world of spirituality is about deepening our connection to the Divine source of life. But life comes to us through our parents, and their parents, and all our ancestors. Without that knowledge, we may wander through life wondering who we are and where we came from. Like a piece is missing. Learning where we came from means learning more about who we are. And that can bring a deep sense of peace. Even if it turns out that some of the stories we learn are difficult, they can still hold the potential for deep resolution, deep healing, deep peace…and a deeper sense of identity.

If you want to read the full story of our Stewart ancestors who came from Glen Tarken and settled in Puslinch, Ontario, Canada, click here:

This is part of an ongoing personal blog series exploring the relationship between family history and spirituality. (Originally published on August 17, 2023, under the “Faith Matters” series in the Flamborough Review community newspaper.)

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In 1987, I was playing in an original band called, Geneva. We recorded a four-song cassette EP called No Time to Pray, and played various clubs around southern Ontario, Canada. This is the title track from the EP.

The audio on this video is very low. You will have to turn up the volume.

No Time To Pray

Words & Music: Lori DeGraw (c)1987 Lori DeGraw

Look at me; what do you see?
I look at you; where can you be?
In a pot of gold on an open lane,
but forgetting the pouring rain.

Talk to me, and I will cry with you.
Feel for me, and we can dream,
of flying through space and time,
of paradise so peaceful and sublime.

Running fast but getting nowhere
Gives us cause to throw it all away,
or so they say.

Forever planning for the future,
is there no enjoyment here today?
No time to pray.

Credits

Recorded in 1987 in Ryk Brown’s parents’ basement on a four-track cassette home studio recorder
Produced & Engineered by Paul Hunter & Ryk Brown

Cover art – Mike Woods
Road Crew – Ian Houghton & Greg Brown
Photos by Ian Houghton taken at Call The Office, London, Ontario, Canada.

[From the original liner notes]
Special thanks to: Ian Houghton, Ken and Jackie Brown, Gary Kaufman, Greg Brown, Toby Cadham, Danny Broadbeck, Christopher Ratt, Mike Woods, Bruce Woollatt, Tom Hunter, Bill Martin, Skye, Bob Bradbury, Rick Broadbeck, and the Sunday Night Gang (including Shirley).

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In 1987, I was playing in an original band called, Geneva. We recorded a four-song cassette EP called No Time to Pray, and played various clubs around southern Ontario, Canada. Neighbour’s Land was our first and only single. It received modest airplay on local radio station CHRW thanks to DJ Skye Sylvain.

Neighbour’s Land

Words & Music: Lori DeGraw & Ryk Brown (c)1987 Lori DeGraw & Ryk Brown

The headlines read of the plight in Africa
Their biggest sandbox is getting bigger every day
In the ‘Land of Ice’ opposing kings meet face-to-face
One giant speaks and the other walks away

We take a stand
We plant our wheat in our neighbour’s land

The aging actor tries his best to steal the stage
He plays the judge; the tropic lands: the consequence
In the ‘Land of Green’ opposing thoughts meet face-to-face
Their people fall trying to gain their independence

We take a stand
We plant our wheat in our neighbour’s land

And we feel content when contributions have been made
And we feed ourselves on the souls that we have saved
With our conscience eased, we return to the routine
While our longest food line gets longer every day

We take a stand We plant our wheat in our neighbour’s land

Credits

Produced by Toby Cadham
Engineered by Danny Broadbeck
Recorded at SRS Studios, London, Ontario, Canada, 1987.

Cover art – Mike Woods
Road Manager – Ian Houghton
Roadie: Greg Brown
Photos by Ian Houghton taken at Call The Office, London, Ontario, Canada.

[From the original liner notes]
Special thanks to: Ian Houghton, Ken and Jackie Brown, Gary Kaufman, Greg Brown, Toby Cadham, Danny Broadbeck, Christopher Ratt, Mike Woods, Bruce Woollatt, Tom Hunter, Bill Martin, Skye, Bob Bradbury, Rick Broadbeck, and the Sunday Night Gang (including Shirley).

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This is part of an ongoing personal blog series exploring the relationship between family history and spirituality. (Originally published on June 1, 2023, under the “Faith Matters” series in the Flamborough Review community newspaper.)

I haven’t met a perfect family yet

As a child, there were days that I got along well with my parents and days that we fought. In 30 years of professional ministry, I haven’t met a perfect family yet. Most people grew up loving some aspects of how they were raised and resenting others. Those resentments, when unresolved, can lead to a lifetime of friction with our parents. But they can also impact our relationships with our life-partners and can even impact how we raise any children we might have.

Understanding can lead to forgiveness

In my last article, I mentioned that the more we understand how our parents were raised the more it can help us to be sympathetic and even forgiving about how they raised us (or did not raise us). I want to add a caution that in cases of abuse, forgiveness may neither be possible nor even safe.

Forgiveness doesn’t make hurt “okay”

Forgiveness is often misunderstood. The more accurate translation of The Lord’s Prayer asks God “to forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” This compares forgiveness to a financial transaction. When I harm someone, they can sue me for damages. Then I owe them a debt to compensate them for the damages. If they forgive the debt, it does not remove the damage, it merely says that I have paid enough, and they are no longer going to make me pay for the damage I caused.

When you’ve paid enough

When someone wrongs us and says, “I’m sorry” too often we respond with “that’s okay.” But it’s not okay to hurt someone. Forgiving someone doesn’t mean that the hurt is now okay. It means that we’re no longer going to make them “pay” for the hurt they caused. We forgive the debt, not the action. We’re letting go of the need to make them continue to pay. That frees us as much as it frees them.

When we understand why people do or say hurtful things, it doesn’t make those hurtful things okay. Understanding doesn’t make a wrong right. But understanding can empower us to “forgive the debt” and stop making them pay for it for the rest of their lives.

I am currently on sabbatical exploring the topic of the spirituality of genealogy. As part of that sabbatical, I will be travelling to the land of my ancestors, Scotland, in order to immerse myself in my own historical roots while I read, reflect and write about the relationship between spirituality, genealogy, family, trauma and healing, personal and cultural identity. You can follow my thoughts on the topic here.

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(Originally published on Jan 26, 2023, under the “Faith Matters” series in the Flamborough Review community newspaper.)

During the shutdowns of the pandemic, people were looking for hobbies they could do from home. Along with hiking and bicycling, genealogy surged in popularity. While stuck at home, it was easy to purchase a subscription to Ancestry.com and spend hours searching for family roots.

I’ve been a genealogist for almost 30 years. Like others, I used much of my pandemic home time to continue my research online and develop my genealogy websites.

I also began pondering the healing aspects of genealogy. Healing? Yes, healing.

Why are so many people so obsessed with learning their family roots? It deepens our sense of identity. In a world where people feel more and more disconnected, it gives us an extended family to feel connected to.

As my indigenous neighbours have taught me, I am the product of “all my relations.”

As much of our adult personalities are formed in childhood before the age of 8, then our parents or childhood caregivers have a huge impact on who we become as adults. If much of our sense of identity and personality foundations are shaped by our parents, then our parents were equally shaped by their parents, and so on. For good and bad. 

In understanding more about the childhoods of our parents, we may come to see our parents through more forgiving eyes as we begin to better understand why our parents thought and behaved the way they did. We see that they were the product of their own upbringings. The same is true for each generation we go back. The more we understand “all our relations” the more we understand ourselves and can sometimes begin to heal multi-generational wounds.

We also learn to see ourselves as the hybrid of multiple cultures coming together in one extended family. Just the way the world should be: multiple cultures living in harmony.

Many of my queer friends who have been tragically rejected by their birth families (often for misguided religious reasons) speak of their “chosen family.” In cases where relationships are broken, we still crave family-like connections. And that’s what the church was originally intended to be like – a place where broken souls could experience “chosen family.” The metaphor of family runs throughout our ancient religious texts because we all crave deep, safe, loving connections where we feel like we belong.

This summer I will be taking a sabbatical exploring deeper into the topic of the spirituality of genealogy. As part of that sabbatical, I will be travelling to the land of my ancestors, Scotland, in order to immerse myself in my own historical roots while I read, reflect and write about the relationship between spirituality, genealogy, family, trauma and healing, personal and cultural identity. I intend to blog and vlog regularly during my sabbatical. You are invited follow along.

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I’ve been riding motorcycles since I was about 14 years old and owned my own street bikes since I was 23. Most of my riding has been long distance touring – initially on bikes that were meant to be street cruisers. In 2014, I finally purchased the touring bike of my dreams. Over my lifetime, I have ridden over a quarter of a million kilometres on two wheels. The accompanying map shows every place I have ridden on motorcycle.

Places I have travelled on motorcycle

Starting small

I started riding with my friend, Paul Hunter’s, 50 cc dirt bike. We would share a helmet between us and take turns riding the wooded trails between Westminster Park subdivision and Pond Mills in London, Ontario, Canada.

Through my teens, I had several friends who rode and who took me on as a passenger: Rick Thompson, Bruce Legg and others.

My rebel cousin Bob

As a child and teenager, I heard many stories about my much older rebel cousin, Bob Herdman, who bought a Harley in 1969 and rode from Hamilton, Ontario, Canada to California, USA, for the Summer of Love. Bob eventually settled in southwest Alberta, Canada. Bob was even featured on the cover of Canadian Biker Magazine when he rode his motorcycle to the Arctic Circle!

The stories I heard of Bob made him an inspiring folk hero in my young mind.

My first street bike

In 1988, I purchased my first street bike. It was a used 1985 Yamaha Virago 750. I took a driving course and joined a riding club (The Virago Owners’ Club). We did regular day-trips around southern Ontario and longer road trips to rallies in the United States.

My first ride across North America

In 1991, I moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, to attend the Vancouver School of Theology (at UBC). I shipped my belongings by freight, climbed on my Virago with my then-fiancée and we took 8 days to ride to the West Coast. We took the American route as far as Montana, then crossed north into Alberta to visit my cousin, Bob, for the first time since I was out of diapers. Then we took the Canadian route through the Rockies. My fiancée then flew back home.

Living and riding in British Columbia

While living in Vancouver, I started a new local chapter of the Virago Owners’ Club so I would have friends to ride with out there. (It was also a personal experiment in understanding group growth strategies for later application to churches.) The Vancouver Chapter grew to be the second largest chapter in North America. We rode all over southern British Columbia and the Pacific Northwest, with frequent trips into Washington State.

My second ride across North America

At the end of my first year of school, I was due to head back to London, Ontario to get married later that summer (1992). That spring I received a phone call from my good friend and riding buddy, Matt Daudlin, that went something like this:

It was an incredible ride that deserves a blog post of it’s own. Matt rode from Chatham, Ontario in April all the way to Vancouver, BC. He stayed with me for a week and we did some day trips around the Lower Mainland. Then, after my last worship service in the church I was working at, we hopped on our two bikes and rode down the West Coast Highway to San Francisco. Then we headed east through the mountains, across the desert, through more mountains to Denver, then across the Prairies back to southern Ontario.

Honeymoon to Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia

My fiancée and I were married later that summer and then we rode east through New England to Cape Breton, Nova Scotia for our honeymoon, where we rode the Cabot Trail (counter clockwise, of course) and returned home through Quebec.

My third ride across North America

In 1996, I graduated from the Vancouver School of Theology (UBC) with my Master of Divinity Degree and my graduation present to myself was brand new (but last year’s model) 1995 Yamaha Virago 1100. I rode it for a month around the Lower Mainland to break it in, then took it back to the dealer for a final once-over before hitting the road. Then my (now ex) wife and I rode the reverse route to our earlier westward trip. We took the American route through the Rockies, through Washington, Idaho and western Montana. My goal was to ride the Going to the Sun Highway from west to east. Cresting the top and seeing the Prairies laid out ahead of us as far as the eye could see is a sight I will never forget.

Settling down in my ancestral home: Hamilton, Ontario

We settled in suburban Hamilton, Ontario — the place where my Gaelic speaking Scottish ancestors first settled in 1834. I tried a couple of different riding clubs before settling with the Widows Sons (Masonic) Riding Club.

In summer of 2001, my then-wife and I rode to visit a friend in Colorado. My wife was 3 months pregnant at the time. We stopped in Chicago to visit another friend. On the way home we took a detour to Texas.

Finally owning my dream bike

A brother in the Widows Sons had a bike that I fell in love with. 1t was a 2004 Yamaha Road Star 1700. It was my dream bike. Every time he and I went for a ride together, I said to him, “Be careful with that bike. You know you’re riding my next bike!” I made no secret of my interest in owning his bike if he ever decided to sell it. In 2014, he bought a Harley and gave me first dibs on the Road Star. I jumped at the chance. It’s my dream bike. I’m still riding it to this day.

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