Tracing Isaiah's Roots

Isaiah smiled when he heard the familiar bong of his desktop computer start up.  The retired black history professor stroked his silver beard and waited. He hoped the sudden power outage brought on by Hurricane Sandy had not wiped out all the research he had compiled on his Mac.

While biting his lower lip he signed into “Ancestry.com”; tapped the “Enter” key, then released a hearty sigh of relief.

“Whew! That was a close one, Isaiah.” 

He said to himself smiling at all his unharmed charts and graphs. 

He knew he would have been devastated had he lost the three years of data that resulted from mining through stacks of brittle county documents and parched newspapers.  Ever since Isaiah had stopped teaching he used all his free time searching for his family ancestry.  He knew his quest was going to be challenging, no, it was going to be formidable.  After all “Washington” was most assuredly a common name—probably as common as common can be.

One night, at his rickety roll top desk, Isaiah discovered in an old dusty ledger book of 1789 landowners a name that he always saw on every one dollar bill.  He peered through his pocket magnifying glass to examine the signature more closely.

“Well, well, well . . .Isaiah,” he said to himself with surprise. “Our county ledger has George Washington listed here as the owner of the very same farm your great, great, great grandfather Jeremiah lived.  Hmmm.”

The very next morning, Isaiah headed to the New Haven Historical Society with a spiral notebook in one hand and a thermos of hot coffee in the other. He needed an answer to a burning question that plagued him.  Why was his ancestor listed in the 1789 ledger but not in the 1780 ledger?  He was still a young man.

Isaiah stopped advancing the microfilm when he came across a full column article that deeply disturbed him yet answered his questions as well.  He sat back, cleared the tear from his eye and read aloud almost reverently,

“Last night the body of local negro farmer was found burned and hanging in Town Square.  When questioned, authorities would not say if they are holding any suspects.  They admit, however, the investigation would continue normally.
As of this writing no one has come forth to claim the deceased farmer, known to the town as simply Jeremiah. "

Isaiah advanced the microfilm and read a related article that put a smile on his already sickened face.  He read the headline,

“Legal steps taken to right wrong’George Washington, landowner of several neighboring farmlands has asked for the remains of a murdered farmer so he could give him a proper burial.  The New Haven Gazette has learned that Mr. Washington plans to transfer the remains to rest below the tree in which the deceased was hanged.  When asked his reason, Mr. Washington said vehemently, “Because I want everyone to know that Jeremiah was my son.”

Isaiah felt his sorrows evaporate and he began to chuckle and then he laughed-- louder and louder still.

He returned to his room and sat at his rickety roll top desk and turned on his computer to read the news on Yahoo.  The very first article caused him to bolt upright and re-read. “Blah, blah, blah, skeleton uprooted . . . bleh, bleh . . .New Haven . . .COLONIAL . . .

The excited history professor picked up a phone and dialed.  When he heard a friendly voice answer, “Hello, New Haven Landmark Society” he began, “Have I got a story for you.”