This week I got interested in my ancestry. I don’t know why — maybe it’s the approach of being 50. Maybe it’s because of a phone call I got this week that I didn’t want to get. Maybe it’s nostalgia.
I’m not sure why, but I signed up on Ancestry.com. I entered information I know about my parents and what little I know about my grandparents. From there, the information gets foggy.
I know that ancestry is an obsession of the aged. I’m getting there. I wonder about those who came before me. And now I’m at an age where most of my worry is for my guys and for their future.
At least they’ll have a good record of me. I don’t have a single letter written by my parents or grandparents. My guys will have the thousands of blog entries that I’ve made over the past few years. I’m not sure if it’s that’s better that having nothing and thinking that their predecessors wrote elegant letters.



