Chapter 1

Compelling, page-turning, hard-to-put-down books contain elements of adversity, conflict, frustration, love, and hate. They also include the way individuals change when confronted by what may seem like insurmountable obstacles. Family histories about real people should be no different. Since writing the Soul of the Land, I have been amazed by the number of individuals who have shared stories with me about their families, stories that beg to be written.

The problem is that most would-be Shamans either don’t recognize the truly great accomplishments of certain individuals within their own clans or choose not to tell all of the story. Today’s family histories deal mostly in the recording of events, and provide little insight into the very human emotional state of mind. At the same time, they completely overlook the obstacles encountered and how they were overcome.

Again, I must emphasize, a good Shaman tells all of the story. For to deliberately omit a piece of history is also to deceive. I’m sure that most of us would agree that it is important to provide insight into how individuals overcame misfortune, achieved success, or just as importantly, how they may have failed. But what about the rest of the story?

Most family histories that have been written might include some adversity, but no conflict, no frustrations or even how the characters overcame them. To read them is to read a fairy tale of a lovely life devoid of human conflict and very human weaknesses that afflict us all. The really good stuff, the things that make us human, are missing. “And why?” I ask.

“Well, uh mm, you know, some things are best not talked about,” you say. In a word the story has been sanitized. Best not to disclose that Uncle Harry was gay and shunned most of his life. Don’t mention Grandma’s illegitimate child. And what happened to the love child? Doesn’t he or she deserve a place in the family?

“Uh mm, I guess so,” you say, “but, you know, there are those in the family that might get upset. After all.., you know.., some things are best unsaid..., forgotten.”

Unsaid? Forgotten? You can bet that at the time tongues wagged constantly, spreading news of the disgraceful event. And forgotten? Maybe after a generation or two has passed. But do we not learn from others? How can we learn and understand the lessons of life if they are not remembered? Maybe, just maybe, Grandma’s experience of coping with an illegitimate child might keep a granddaughter from making a similar mistake.

Writing a family history is not about selectively telling the story of one’s ancestors, nor is it digging up and reporting only the sordid past of a wayward few. A truly great family history honestly tells the story of life, warts and all. In doing so, the writer must take care to accurately portray the characters’ lives. It doesn’t matter what we Shamans think of how they lived. It is only ours to report. We don’t ostracize, we don’t malign, we simply tell the story to the best of our ability with the facts we have at hand. This may shock our sister Mary, or really offend Uncle Bill, but so be it. We modern day Shamans have a duty to educate the members of our clans about the foibles of life. And given some time, Mary and Uncle Bill may agree that we did the right thing.