Robert Heaton was a Quaker and my great grandfather seven times removed. He sailed to the New World with his family aboard The Lamb in the fall of 1682. His branch of my family hailed from Yorkshire mostly. Dad's line, if accurate, can be traced to a gentleman with the given name of Adam Deheton born in the county of Lancaster sometime after 1100. And while Ancestry usually lists him with the Deheton surname he was probably Adam Fitz somebody. He died in Yorkshire. And in Yorkshire my ancestors remained, off and on, for five hundred years. Until Quaker Robert said the heck with this religious persecution bit and followed William Penn.
Five hundred years minus a couple of generations in the shire of Lincoln. Mostly around the same little town. Still exists. Name of Kirkheaton. In old English heah is a high place. Tun is a village. And kirk still means church in Scotland. The village in a high place built next to a church.
Five hundred years, give or take a few. That's twice as long as this country has been called the United States. Not look too united right now but, it does put things into perspective. Plague, the rebellion called the Pilgramage of Grace, the reformation, the English Civil War and finally exile. Must have hurt to leave so much behind. Hurt, it must have almost torn their hearts out. You had to have a damn good reason to uproot your whole family and cross the ocean.
I have mixed feelings about the possibility of running into great grandfather Robert in my spiritual journeyings. I can almost hear him. "We risked bad food, bad water and possible ship wreck. Others suffered typhus, scurvy and small pox. We came searching for religious freedom and to build a better life for ourselves and our families. And a fine mess you've made of it. Daughter we expected better of our children."
And if I did run into him, damned if I'd have an answer for him.
And I still don't have an answer for him.
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