Everybody's working for the weekend

A history that remains unspoken is lost to future generations. My family aren't storytellers, so stories aren't widely told (except by my mother, but she has a habit of repeating the same seven stories over and over again). Now, this doesn't mean that it's a secret; that isn' the case at all. If we ask questions, we get answers. Short answers. No one feels compelled to tell me, or any of the other grandchildren, about the past. This causes, for me at least, a disconnection with my heritage. I know that many people feel this way, and this is supposedly a characteristic of the post-modern society that we inhabit, but still... I wish I spoke the tongue of my father's ancestors (I speak the language of my mother's family). These questions and feelings were aroused within me because this weekend I bought a book about the history of my father's people in this country during the last century. This is probably the most direct source of knowledge at my disposal, even though my grandmother is still alive. I'm just lamenting that fact.