One True Scotsman

When I was in 5^th Grade we had a unit on immigration, and one of the assignments was to make a flag representing your ancestry. I was fascinated by the assignment, all the more so when the family discussions it led to revealed my ancestry to be more than the “German-Irish” I’d always been vaguely aware of. This was the first time I heard about Dutch and Danish ancestors. It was also my first exposure to the classic American “1/64^th Native American” fib (yeah, wasn't true for me either).

One thing that stood out was my dad’s adamant statement that he had Scottish ancestry, though he couldn’t say precisely how other than knowing it was on his dad’s (mostly Irish) side. It wasn’t rigorous research, but it was enough for St. Andrew’s Cross to make it onto my ancestry flag as a late addition.

The Many Wives of Herman Buss, Jr.

My maternal grandfather, Don Krueger, was a phenomenal storyteller. The way he wove humor into his narratives and took his stories in unexpected directions allowed him to command a room without the giant stature and booming voice usually required to do so. Unlike the storytelling elders of the not-too-distant-past who carefully elevated the heroism and sacrifices of prior generations while burying the negative aspects, grandpa style was more genuine. He talked about both the good and that bad, and painted the people of the past as humans. If he fibbed at all in his stories, it was mostly to get more laughs rather than inspire awe.

He had a goofball personality that us grandkids naturally gravitated to. A love for Bugs Bunny and Disney cartoons, funny faces, and fart jokes (“barking spiders”) that appeals to the basic instincts of kids. I later learned that he likely also used this as a coping mechanism to mask a deeper sense of anxiety and depression, something I relate to as well, but that’s another story. I find myself thinking of him often these days; my little boy is has a goofy sense of humor like he did. They would have adored each other.

Grandpa and me

A Start

The ripples of actions taken a thousand years in the past tie threads across time and distance. Peace, war, famine, disease, depression, a successful business, a wasted fortune, a moment's passion, careful legislation, or a cruel royal fiat. Decisions both conscious and subconscious; sleeping in or waking early from a dog's bark. A chance meeting of young people at a church social, a town square, or a remote country road with the courses of their lives unwritten and full of promise. 

Whether you realize it or not, the confluence of these threads is your story. The course of your life, the features of your personality, your perspectives and experiences, your very existence, everything that makes you, has context written across generations. Few of us know more than a few sentences.