I’m a mutt. A Heinz 57. An American Mongrel.
I have no pedigree and we cannot trace my family tree back more than three generations.
This reality has always vexed me to my core. All of my friends know both their ethnic and historical extraction. Their ancestors’ country of origin. When they got off the boat. Where and why they settled. The only thing I know is that there are three Native American tribes in my family and I know only one of them for certain. So when a moment of potential family discovery presented itself in my young adulthood, I seized it like a rabid dog. Continue reading