Category: Culture

Crackers

Crackers

by Justin Durand

I think probably the first time I heard the term Cracker was in Gone With the Wind. Maybe it’s a Southern word. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it used by a Westerner, at least not un-self-consciously. Many people I’ve asked have no idea what it means even though most have heard it.

I read Gone With the Wind in high school, and got the basic meaning from the context and from asking around. A Cracker is a backwoods Southerner; poor, illiterate, and bigoted.

But really I learned about Crackers in a college history class. We had a professor who tried to give us some depth, something more than just events.

One of the things he told us, several times and in several ways, is that those of us from rural Western backgrounds come from a uniquely blended culture. He made it sound special.

Our cowboy culture and country music have roots in the rural South, as indeed we do ourselves in many cases, but our politics have been shaped by 100 years of Yankee schoolmarms. In short, our ancestors didn’t lose the Civil War, so we have a variant of rural Southern culture but with a dash of New England liberalism and without the chip on our shoulders.

Do I need to say it? Of course, this is a generalization. There are exceptions. Back then I thought my Utah Mormon background made me one of the exceptions. Nowadays, I don’t buy that that for a minute.

My professor was really talking about Crackers, although it would not have been politic to call them that.

After college, as a genealogist, I learned to recognize Crackers as being the descendants of 18th century Ulster Scot immigrants. They love God, guns, and now Trump.

Fischer developed this idea further. His idea was that immigrants from northern Britain (“the Borderlands”) 1715-1775 settled in America’s “Backcountry”, becoming one of the four British folkways that contributed to American culture. Crackers.

I have quite a bit of Ulster Scot ancestry, so I’ve been almost endlessly interested in the topic. Barry McCain posted an article yesterday. I always sit and pay attention when it’s him. For this article, I have three take-aways:

  1. A nice summary: “They were basically a semi nomadic group who were excellent hunters, kept free range cattle and pigs, and lived in the backcountry. They were normally of Ulster ancestry, but not exclusively so.” And, “The original Crackers are also associated with free range cattle and lived in the backcountry.“
  2. McCain thinks the word “Cracker is the anglicised form of Creachadóir”, which in Ulster and Scots Gaelic means a “raider and freebooter”, but is “also associated with the free range cattle drovers in Ulster.” Same thing to the Elizabethan English, he says. I think he’s likely right about this. Until now I’ve accepted the theory Cracker is an anglicized form of Cracaire. They’ll talk your ear off. McCain considers this idea but he thinks the Gaelic usage is too recent.
  3. Contrary to my impression (and contrary to Wikipedia), McCain says the word Cracker is not derogatory. In fact, it’s a term of pride. He says: “It means you are indigenous to the South, ancestors from Ulster or northwest Britain, have roots in the Uplands or Backcountry, are independent, self-reliant, you act in an honorable way, are good with weapons, hunting, fishing, and are a man who knows how to do things.  As the Southern Crackers settled Texas and the Southwest they became the Cowboy, a cultural continuum of their unique lifestyle.”

I hope it’s true the word Cracker is no longer offensive, but I’m skeptical.

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A Better Diaspora

A Better Diaspora

by Justin Durand

What does it mean — a better diaspora? I started thinking about this a couple of weeks ago when a friend who is Latina mentioned how often people are surprised when they find out she doesn’t speak Spanish.

At the time I just laughed. I don’t speak Swedish or any of my other ancestral languages, so we’re in the same boat.

Later, though, I started thinking. Why would people think Latinxs would be more likely to retain an ancestral language than anyone else?

Historically, most of the United States has been part of the European diaspora. Learning to speak English is a benchmark for assimilation. Yet, there are cultural enclaves everywhere. I’ve lived in Salt Lake City, New York, and Denver. In each of them I lived for a time in particular cultural areas, including Latinx, Russian, German, and Jewish. Now I live on the edge of the Muslim part of Denver.

When I hear the news about Americans who hate immigrants, I think to myself these people must have led very sheltered, small-town lives. In the cities, immigrant communities are just part of life. Their native cultures give us new restaurants and cultural festivals, which are part of the joy of living in a city.

While all this was fresh in my mind, I came across an old Michael Newton article. If you’re not familiar with his work, he’s been called “a leading authority on the literature and cultural legacy of Scottish Highland immigrant communities in America.” I’ve been giving up on him, because he’s retreating behind a paywall but I still read him when I come across something.

Newton argues that most of what passes for Scottish culture in North America — kilts, clans & whisky — is a sham and sometimes even a vehicle for white supremacy. In this “new” article, he is promoting learning Scots Gaelic as a way of improving the Scottish diaspora.

The idea of learning Scots Gaelic as a way of strengthening the culture of the diaspora strikes me as interesting. Despite what I told my Latina friend about not speaking Swedish, I did take a semester in college. I also had high school French and German, and college Latin, German (and Swedish). And, I’ve tried now and then, but without much success, to learn Gaelic and Old Norse.

So, I wonder. Is knowing the language an essential part of affirming identity and belonging? I think I’d want to read a wider spectrum of opinion and debate but it feels like there’s something “there”.

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  • Dr. Michael Newton. “A Better Scottish Diaspora is Possible.” Patreon <patreon.com/posts/27706625>, July 17, 2019. Retrieved May 27, 2020. 

Updated May 27, 2020 to replace the Patreon link, which works but is “Forbidden”.

Name of Jesus

Name of Jesus

by Justin Durand

I wonder sometimes. Genealogists are supposed to use the earliest attested name. The rule is often glossed as requiring genealogists to use the “birth name“. We had a debate on Geni.com a while back about the name of Jesus. I still don’t feel comfortable with the result.

The Messianic Jews argued stridently in favor of Hebraicizing his name. The Christians argued just as stridently in favor of continuing the Grecized versions of his name common in different European languages.

Here’s the basic issue.

The common language of Palestine in Jesus’ time was Aramaic, while the commercial language was a dialect of Greek called Koine. The New Testament was probably written in Greek. The surviving Aramaic version of the New Testament is probably a translation from the Greek. Probably. A minority of experts believe the Aramaic version came first and the Greek version is the translation.

The name of Jesus in the earliest Greek version is Ιησους – that is, Iēsoûs, the name that became both Jesus and Joshua in European languages. In the Peshitta, an Aramaic text, Jesus’ name is ܝܶܫܽܘܥ – that is, Yeshuwe. In Jesus’ time the normal Hebrew version of his name was ישוע‎ (Yeshua), a shortened form of יהושע‎ (Yehoshua, Joshua), while the normal Aramaic version is argued to have been Yeshu.

It’s not such a complicated landscape. None of this is obscure or surprising to experts in the field.

What surprises me is that some amateur genealogists think it’s necessary to weigh the evidence and make a decision on a subject where even the experts are split.

And worse: the debate is driven by unacknowledged ideological baggage.

The name Yeshua is closely associated in modern times with Messianic Judaism. Indeed, the original debate on Geni.com began when a particular user demanded that Jesus’ name be changed to Yeshua, while traditional Christians wanted to keep the familiar forms of his name in their respective languages.

At the same time, the preferred Jewish form of Jesus’ name is Yeshu. Jesus is invariably called Yeshu, while other men with the same name are called Yeshua. In fact, in the Jewish tradition the form Yeshu seems to be unique to Jesus. There are no undisputed Aramaic or Hebrew texts as referring to anyone except Jesus.

I wouldn’t say the original name of Jesus is unrecoverable. Almost certainly it was some form of Yeshua, but in my opinion there are methodological problems with trying to be more exact than the evidence allows. It’s the genealogical sin of inventing information.

I would have preferred in this case to keep the earliest attested form of his name, with a short commentary.

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Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond

Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond

by Justin Durand

Most experts agree this song is about the 1746 Battle of Culloden but there’s disagreement about who is singing and what they are doing. You can read about some of those at Wikipedia.


The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond, sung by Ella Roberts

The way I learned it—from Grandma Swanstrom, I think—the singer is a woman who has lost her lover in the war. “Ye’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low road, and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye.” Her love will be hanged (the gallows is the “high road”). She’ll return the ordinary way (the “low road”). And she’ll get there first because he’ll be dead and in heaven.

I didn’t even know there were other interpretations. Two that I’ve read about the past few days:

One, that it’s sung by the soldier to his lover. She’ll take the high road back, which is the normal way, and he being dead will take the fairy road (“low road”). He’ll get there first because his arrival will be instantaneous.

And two, that’s it’s sung by one of two soldiers. One will be released and the other will be executed. That theory also splits into two, whether the one who takes the high road is the one who is executed or the one who survives.

Fun to think about but I’m sticking with the way I learned it.

Tomten

Tomten

by Justin Durand

Mom asked me today if I remember the tomte’s name. No, I don’t think I knew the tomte has a name. But I’m intrigued by the question.

Back up for a bit. We have a tomte (“house elf”). Of course we do. Our ancestors came from Sweden. Honestly, if I didn’t have one I’m not sure I’d admit it.

A tomte is a guardian of the house, like the lares and penates in Roman culture except he’s an elf not a spirit. He lives somewhere nearby, maybe in a hill or a under the barn, He protects the house and the people who live there. And, he brings luck and makes the chores lighter.

When I was a kid, I had a zillion questions. Where did he come from? (From Sweden, of course.) When? (With Grandma Josephine and Grandpa Adolph.) How did he get here? (He came in their steamer trunk.) How come we got him and our relatives didn’t? (Ahh, but they did get him We all got him.)

That last bit has to remain one of life’s mysteries. I have a tomte, and he’s the same tomte my great grandparents brought from Sweden in 1891, and all my relatives have him too, but somehow we all have our own.

After all these years, my American tomte is certainly different than he was in Sweden. I know some of those differences but probably not all.

Tomtar like to have a cheerful, hardworking environment. They don’t like arguments. They don’t like sloppy housekeeping. And, they don’t like change. That part is the same.

It’s traditional to put out a bowl of porridge on Christmas Eve, but I put out a saucer of milk like my mother did. And I don’t usually do it on Christmas Eve. More often at New Year’s Eve and Midsummer, or when I think something has happened to disturb our happy home.

Another difference — in Sweden, the tomte is sometimes said to have been the first person who cleared the land, or the person who built the house, or the first person who died in the house. That wouldn’t work in America, I don’t think. The poor tomtar would get attention only when there were good Swedes living in the house, then be ignored other times. If that’s the rule, then it’s pretty harsh.

And one last difference. I get the impression from my reading that the Swedish tomtar are essentially the local landvættir (“land spirits”), but I see my tomte as more an ancestral spirit, even though still definitely one of the húsvættir. It’s part of his job to coordinate with the land spirits. Particularly since I’m moving around and the local land spirits, whether Indian or American, are not often any part of my own family heritage.

So, getting back the question of his name. Maybe it’s Lars? Or Lasse? The Danes and Norwegian call their house elves nisse. Some people think the word nisse comes from Nils). If so, it seems certain the Swedes would be obstinately different. I think I’m going to start calling my tomte Lasse and see if he responds.

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