Who Knew?

I remember a third grade assignment: “Ask your parents about your ancestry.” Where did you come from? My teacher talked about race, countries and such. My Dad’s answer has always stuck with me, “Your a Heinz 57 –You’re grandparents down the line are from all over the world! Dink, you’re an American!” Later, my Mom’s genealogical studies and DNA test confirmed that to be true.

Ancestor CollageI descend from a line of worldly, quirky, brave, and normal folks –some are still living through their stories. Honestly, I could care less if my ancestors were Italian and Hungarian, English, French and more. My P-pop claimed we were part of the Cherokee Indian tribe too. Oh! The list goes on. I’m proud to have a mixed pedigree, I’m proud to be a mutt. Yes, my roots are colorful. I would probably be sat in the back if invited to he royal wedding this weekend, eh?

I’m more interested ancestral stories. I come from a line of homesteaders, settlers, farmers, builders, home-makers, hypochondriacs, bartenders, bootleggers, soldiers and a “Lady of the Night”. I’m so happy I know their stories. Stories mean more to me than bloodline.

This makes me think . . . what will our Great-Great-Grand-babies know about us? What stories will form their image of who they are, where they came from? What does that make us today? I know, it is a heavy, wonderful, awesome responsibility! In an earlier blog,  Something to Live By, I summarized life as, who knew you loved them? I don’t know about you, but to me, that is the pedigree I want to pass on!

Enjoying the Adventure (Especially the love part),

Dr. Dink

Daily Prompt

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Author: Karen "Dink" Urbanski

Loving life & sharing with others!

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