They Say That You Gotta Know Where You Came From to Know Where You're Going...

Some people seem to have their family histories all figured out. We all know those people, the ones who can trace their ancestry lines back to the Mayflower and beyond. They're all so full of pride for their family and possibly for their heritage. Unfortunately, coming from a small town in the Midwest - without any significant ethnic diversity or any obvious settlement pockets in the area - I have never had the privilege of knowing where I was from beyond my own address. My family history had gotten lost in the shuffle of the generations - on both sides - so I have been making up my own ideas of where I came from for most of my life.

I always thought I was Irish because my mom's original second name was Henderson and she's a small, freckly, blue-eyed red-head. It fit. I Googled my last name once and some obscure website told me I had Scandinavian relatives way back when. So, that's how I've spent the last few years - picturing myself as a powerful, Swedish Viking who took over Ireland in a past life.

A few days ago, however, that all changed.

Out of sheer boredom I signed up for an ancestry.com account. (I'm sure you can see where this is going.) I gathered as much information as I could from both of my parents and started the longest and most in-depth research project I've ever taken on. It wasn't long before I was finding birth records, marriage licenses, and even old photos of family members that lived hundreds of years before I was even a possibility. By the end of the night I had complied a list of documents and names and created a family tree that extends all the way back to the early 1600's.

Here's the bad news, I'm not Irish and I was probably never a Viking (but I'm not giving up on that dream just yet, I'll research that further someday). Both families settled here in the U.S. during the 17th century. My dad's family lived in New England, and then moved westward to New York and Pennsylvania, then to Ohio, and finally ended up in Michigan where I live. My mom's family settled in Virginia. They moved from there to West Virginia, and then on to Kentucky and Ohio where she's from. My family roots are so deep in U.S. soil that I actually had great, great, great grandfathers that fought in the American Revolution - quite a few of them. Who knew? Both sides of the family immigrated here from England and neither side has introduced any other international diversity since then. So, it might be safe to say that after 400 years of marrying Americans and more Americans, I don't really even have any European ties anymore.

It's crazy how much research about other people can teach you about yourself. I always wanted to be #FabulouslyBritish and it turns out that if you go far enough back, I am! But if anything, my little experiment didn't change my allegiance to the UK, rather it only increased my already high-levels of #patriotism for my own country. In a lot of ways learning about where I came from has showed me that I am where I am supposed to be. The reason I never knew about my European heritage is because, at this point, I don't really have any. I'm the product of proud American citizens marrying other proud American citizens for generations. So, if someone were to ask me where my family comes from now, I guess I have my answer.

It's nice to finally have some of the questions about my past answered. They say that you gotta know where you came from to know where you're going and I have a feeling that, thanks to ancestry.com, I now know both.