Counted!

In the midst of this pandemic, our Census 2020 login information arrived today.  I appreciate the ease (for some) of the electronic count, but the impersonal feeling of this white envelope with a 12 digit unique family identifier, caused me to think. 

One of my favorite tasks as a younger person (before work took over my summers) was tracing my genealogy, and digging deep into family records has been fascinating.  One amazing find was the Census from a long time ago -of which my grandfather had a copy.  I would spend hours pouring over the copied pages, looking at the beautiful script each entry had been written in, and imagining the families who grace those pages, especially those families who seemed to have a non-traditional make up.  For example, our Murphy family had at different times interesting members who were counted with us, but who were not related.  There was a "hired man" in the 20's who lived in the family home, and my aunts all talk about "Harney" the family nurse who was counted in the Murphy home in the 30's.  Rumor had it that this little Irish woman lived in the closet off my great-grandparents bedroom. 

I've seen the pictures (perhaps Rockwell?) of the census taker sitting in the living room and carefully noting the names and ages of each person living in a home. I have imagined, even glamorized, the unique experience of learning about the people that lived inside each and every home.  I worry that there is not much glamour in the computerized number that will represent me and my family. 

So many interesting lives and stories have spoken from the pages of the handwritten census docs that I've read.  I'm hoping that generations into the future find the same interest in the computerized record of our simple home.