When it comes to my family tree, my mother’s side of the family is a mix of various Native American tribes and some rural Southern culture. Members of my father’s side of the family came from Lithuania or Estonia or some Eastern European country, one of millions of families whose first view of the United States was a waiting area at Ellis Island.
I’ve never really been one for tracing back my family roots – I mean, how far can people go back? To the Revolutionary War? To the Renaissance? If we subscribe to the theory of creationism, shouldn’t we all theoretically be descendents of Adam and Eve? So that could make all of us related like, what, 75th cousins 50 times removed?
I think the closest family tree connection that I might even have is that somewhere along those tree branches and roots, I’m connected to Braxton Bragg, a Civil War general, through my mother’s side. I don’t think that’s enough of a connection to get me into the Sons of the Confederacy – nor would I want to join that organization. Plus, I think I was related to the only Civil War general that Jefferson Davis relieved of command. Great. That’s like discovering that you’re related to a Beatle and you find out it was Pete Best.
On my father’s side? I don’t know of anybody famous with a lineal connection to me. But what would it matter if there was? Let’s say for example that at some point in time I was related to Robert Redford. Does that mean I’m going to drive to California, show up at Robert Redford’s house, say, “Hi cousin!” and hope we can have a fun day at Disneyland? No.
And this is not to denigrate the work of those who study family trees and familial lineage. It’s a fascinating hobby, and we can discover some interesting stories in our histories. Like so-and-so who fought in this war. Or so-and-so who lived down the street from that famous author.
Me? I trace my lineage back to the people I remember, and that’s really as far as I want to go. And when it comes to family members, most of them would rather prune me from the family tree anyways. So no great loss there.
But here’s something I’ll ask of you. Have you ever traced back your heritage? How far have you gone? What stories did your parents and grandparents tell of the ancestors before? What great things did they accomplish? Or – conversely – what things did they cover up, as they would have brought shame and scandal to your family had anyone known back then?
Something to think about for a Saturday morning. Let me know what you think.
Chuck The Writer 
I have become the family historian, when my grandparents died, I was given all of their papers and pictures, and have worked hard to protect their histories. It is a hobby, nothing more.
My father’s family are descended from a family in Alsace-Lorraine. When Napoleon was creating his Grand Army, the parents could only afford to pay for one son to leave the country. Rudolph was put on a boat for the New World, and was an indentured servant for seven years in Conn. He then settled in the Old Forge area of New York, and raised his family. His four brothers left in France were all killed serving Napoleon in the war.
My mother’s side came from England/Scotland, all before the Revolutionary War. Except for my grandmother McSweeney. Her father came over from Ireland on one of the White Star boats… obviously not the Titanic, thank God. So my lineage has mostly been here in New York since before the Revolutionary War. I think that is pretty remarkable. 🙂
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I’ve been watching some roots show on PBS. Interesting stuff. I have on my maternal grandmother’s side back to about 1810.
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