This post is going to be kind of weird….so bear with me.
Sometimes I feel as though I have no ethnic identity. I have no country of origin. My people and me come from nowhere. Some people have coat of arms in their living room. They wear kiss me “I’m Irish” buttons, they refer to themselves as Dutch. But for me and my family we were just white people. Maybe it was a failure on my grandparents to educate me. My grandparents did not live in the past. My Pepaw loved new technology and things. He would try to repair things to save a dime, but if he knew there was something out there better, he wanted to get it. Color tvs, microwaves, and gadgets , he was a big fan of newer and better. He didn’t live in the past. My granny would occasionally talk about the days when her and her parents (she was an only child) were living on the oil field. And she told me she was born in a tent in Oklahoma, but other than that, I have no idea where I am from.
When you grow up in Arkansas, just being from Arkansas is your identity. Back in the days when the internet was just sprouting, I remember telling people from other countries that I was in Arkansas and immediately they would spout off something along the lines of “you wear shoes?” or “Are you a hill billy?” Arkansan is an ethnic identity in itself and one I have never been ashamed of. But I wish I were something more. I wish I had special holidays or ate special foods.
When I was younger I wanted to be something more than just a “white person” . I would often look at the stars and pretend that one of them was my true homeland and that someday I would return. But now as an adult, I figure I just might as well create an ethnicity. I don’t plan on having kids, so what if I am a weird old lady who thinks she is from a star.
So I have decided that since my last name is Fairchild, I have British/Anglo-Saxon roots on my father’s side. And on my mother’s side I am Bohemian. I am using that term because one time my mother used it to refer to her favorite Aunt. She said that she was an artist, that she was “Bohemian”. I think she probably meant “like a hippie” or just an “artistic type” but that image stuck in my mind.(She loved her great-aunt and said I was like her but that is a different post for a different day.) And my Granny would always say that her parents were “oil field gypsies” before they got into the restaurant biz. So maybe that is what I am!
It would explain a lot! For some reason I am attracted to old things, and I absolutely adore old blankets and all my walls are covered with every type of art imaginable. I love the UK and Liverpool, and Wales, and princes and princesses. And the Beatles! And have you seen my earring collection! I love cheap jewelry and I can’t resist the dollar store. And gypsy tricks, I have pulled a few. I used to trick my sister into doing housework all the time growing up! So maybe that would also explain some of my recent cards:
I just like the way it looks, old, yet regal. It reminds me of my mother’s “people”, (a collection of plates featuring the same relaxing couple). And it reminds me of the elegance of the people of old Britain and France. And its different. And maybe that is what I am Different. Not Caucasian, or Dutch or French or British. Just Different.