I recently did my DNA and the results were very interesting. They verified to me that I have been correct in my feelings that I am of gypsy blood. Now, I understand that the term is often thought of as derogatory, but in researching it I have found that many Romani, travelers, still use the term with pride. It's a shame, to me at least, that words can now be thought of as an insult. I do understand though and will try, I really mean try, to banish the word from my mouth. But, never from my mind as I will always identify as a gypsy.
A Gipsy Family - Facsimile of a Woodcut in the "Cosmographie Universelle" of Munster- in folio, Basle 1552 -Public Domain
Knowing this, I am reminded of the mournful voice of my grandmother's singing that was so beautiful it would bring tears to my eyes. The persecution, the family ties all bring up memories of lives past. I understand my love of riotous color, warm comfort food, ponies, laughter, and children. I can follow the stars on my journeys as they did in their glorious wagons pulled by horses. When I pull out my tarot cards, bang a drum, or say good morning to the sun I am glad to have come from humble beginnings with the strength that it must have taken to stand strong in beliefs that weren't shared by all.
This has nothing to do with Alzheimer's or dementia, or does it? I think I am trying to put my place together in my mind so that when I pass over it will be more recognizable to me. Easy the transition so to speak.
