Am I the end of the line? Would that be a bad thing? Every day my life ends and begins anew. But on a grander scheme, my place in the gene-stream:
My father's father's family was moved to Ireland from Scottland by the British. To 'breed the Irish out'. I assume this meant some land, possibly title, I intend to go back and research it myself one day. My genealogist great aunt intimated at this. Unfortunately, my interest in picking her brain has been relatively recent and she just passed away. She was the end of the line. She and her husband J. had no biological children. Though I picked up from the service that she was considered quite the hotty around Harvard geological circles. They did adopt though. Unfortunately M. is a schizophrenic. He's very sweet so long as he takes his meds, but I think he's wise enough to know not to breed. Hell, I'm coming to that conclusion about myself and I'm not quite as crazy as him. Clinically at any rate.
I don't know much about dad's mother's family. They were 'Vermont Hill People' my grandfather always said, with sinister humor. I wonder if he'd ever read Lovecraft? So much I missed by not knowing the questions to ask. But I do know that she is fantastically sweet and kind, irritatingly so occasionally, and all of her relatives I met were similar. To me 'Vermont Hill People' simply means the most famous and extreme of Yankee independence. I'll find out more.
I also don't know much about my mother's mother's family. Can you tell I'm patriarchal? You can even call me sexist scum if you like, it's not too far off. Actually, that's unfair, this is a confluence of socialization and biology; the lineage of women is clearly traceable, hence Juaddaic matriarchy. We men on the other hand... well, there's quite likely some bastardism on my paternal side that I still want to research. But most obviously, whatever my maternal grandmother's background, it was class. To marry as she did. And here is the source of the greatness of my pride and horror.
My maternal Grandfather was John Smith. That's no joke kids, haha, -he just used that when checking into cheap motels, right? Actually, no. And while it seems the least creative of names, take a moment, cast your mind back through the history of America, if you know any of it. Who was the original John Smith in the US? Put another way, who was the captain of the Mayflower? My grandfather was a Captain too, but he died young and I never met him. But I have had to deal with a certain amount of family wierdness when I'm in Boston. Or when I read the newspapers about some indiscrete relatives or think about our relationship with our bastard Kennedy cousins. Bizarre for a punk kid. Which I was and which I think I shall remain until my 80's (then I intend to convert to intolerant grumpiness and call the rest of you punks) should I live so long. Guilt? I got it. My ex-girlfriend (I think I'll call her that, once and future girlfriend? NTDL) said -you're proud of that child-molester? Maybe Pocohantas was underage, maybe he touched her, how should I know? History books are written by liars with vested interests. Just look here. Molested myself, no that's no source of pride. But it gets a hell of a lot worse.
The rape of this nation's natural resources, the genocide of its indigenous peoples, the incredible injustices it has forced on the world through the centuries which continue to this very day, this very day! Cover your ears. FUCK IT! There, all better. Not really, but to conclude. Would it have been better had my family ended over two centuries ago? If we hadn't done it maybe someone else would have, but maybe they'd have done it better. Of course, they could have done it worse too. So who's to say? I am simply returning to my thesis: is it so bad to be a dead end?
Whew. Loooooooong winded. I'd move this to the essays if I ever saw those getting hit. We'll see, won't we?
So anyway. Biographical info for the day: FoodTown Raisin Bran for breakfast, dog and cleansing rituals, thought again about packing up the toys (with no playmates they're depressing; bad feng shui), into work to rebuild a QIP DHCP server. Which I'm still waiting for. Spicy bacon pasta for lunch. I've tried to clone something I had at Cafe Paine e Chocolatte. Not exactly the same, but damned tasty nonetheless. I'd like to go home and get started on cleaning up/out. Push damned table!