Does our past matter? Maybe not.

When I go to work in the morning, it makes little difference whether I know the names of the people who came before. But I do love the stories. Like the immigrant who fought and lost in the Siege of Charleston, the Confederate soldier who survived Bull Run only to become a lifelong cripple after he fell off a plank crossing a ditch on his way to the hospital for treatment of a respiratory infection. It's one thing to know in a vague way that my ancestors probably bought and sold slaves. But knowing the actual names of some of those slaves -- and having copies of the paperwork documenting how they were traded by my ancestors like bales of the cotton they picked -- brings me to a much more powerful realization of the reality of that heritage. Some stories make us swell with pride; others cause us to and cringe in shame.  

There are thousands of names in the database, including those of some who were quite prominent in various times -- including John Harewell, who is commemorated with brasses in St. Peter's Church, Wootton Wawen, Warwickshire, England.  And on my wife Kathy's side are the fascinating Donelsons, including Rachel Donelson, wife of President Andrew Jackson. (The Donelsons are