Biography ELA.7.R.C2.6

One Saturday in 1965 I happened to be walking past the National Archives building in Washington. Across the interim years I had thought of Grandma’s old stories—otherwise I can’t think what diverted me up the Archives’ steps. And when a main reading room desk attendant asked if he could help me, I wouldn’t have dreamed of admitting to him some curiosity hanging on from boyhood about my slave forbears. I kind of bumbled that I was interested in census records of Alamance County, North Carolina, just after the Civil War. The microfilm rolls were delivered, and I turned them through the machine with a building sense of intrigue, viewing in different census takers’ penmanship an endless parade of names. After about a dozen microfilmed rolls, I was beginning to tire, when in utter astonishment I looked upon the names of Grandma’s parents: Tom Murray, Irene Murray…older sisters of Grandma’s as well—every one of them a name that I’d heard countless times on her front porch. It wasn’t that I hadn’t believed Grandma. You just didn’t not believe my Grandma. It was simply so uncanny [strange] actually seeing those names in print and in official U.S. Government records. --from “My Furthest-Back Person” by Alex Haley 1. When he first enters the National Archives, why does the narrator not want to admit what he is looking for?

One Saturday in 1965 I happened to be walking past the National Archives building in Washington. Across the interim years I had thought of Grandma’s old stories—otherwise I can’t think what diverted me up the Archives’ steps. And when a main reading room desk attendant asked if he could help me, I wouldn’t have dreamed of admitting to him some curiosity hanging on from boyhood about my slave forbears. I kind of bumbled that I was interested in census records of Alamance County, North Carolina, just after the Civil War. The microfilm rolls were delivered, and I turned them through the machine with a building sense of intrigue, viewing in different census takers’ penmanship an endless parade of names. After about a dozen microfilmed rolls, I was beginning to tire, when in utter astonishment I looked upon the names of Grandma’s parents: Tom Murray, Irene Murray…older sisters of Grandma’s as well—every one of them a name that I’d heard countless times on her front porch. It wasn’t that I hadn’t believed Grandma. You just didn’t not believe my Grandma. It was simply so uncanny [strange] actually seeing those names in print and in official U.S. Government records. --from “My Furthest-Back Person” by Alex Haley 2. Who is the author’s most likely intended audience for this piece?

One Saturday in 1965 I happened to be walking past the National Archives building in Washington. Across the interim years I had thought of Grandma’s old stories—otherwise I can’t think what diverted me up the Archives’ steps. And when a main reading room desk attendant asked if he could help me, I wouldn’t have dreamed of admitting to him some curiosity hanging on from boyhood about my slave forbears. I kind of bumbled that I was interested in census records of Alamance County, North Carolina, just after the Civil War. The microfilm rolls were delivered, and I turned them through the machine with a building sense of intrigue, viewing in different census takers’ penmanship an endless parade of names. After about a dozen microfilmed rolls, I was beginning to tire, when in utter astonishment I looked upon the names of Grandma’s parents: Tom Murray, Irene Murray…older sisters of Grandma’s as well—every one of them a name that I’d heard countless times on her front porch. It wasn’t that I hadn’t believed Grandma. You just didn’t not believe my Grandma. It was simply so uncanny [strange] actually seeing those names in print and in official U.S. Government records. --from “My Furthest-Back Person” by Alex Haley 3. Before the narrator discovers the names of his great-grandparents, how does he feel about his microfilm search?