So, just a few months ago I was swept up in piecing together the family genealogical record. It is the kind of activity that at the start would offer maybe mild levels of fun, but as I quickly made my way into the grandparents and great-grandparents and fourth cousins 3 times removed, it became clear that my family relations could’ve been the subject of a great Russian novel, or perhaps even a Greek classic. These folks got around, and with such appellations as Creed and Leonidas, they weren’t just whistling Dixie.
Though my particular branch of the family has elected to stay within a certain fifty square mile radius for several generations, my other relatives ventured far north, west, and occasionally overseas. They left it all behind for the promise of something better, even if that something better turned out to be death by massacre (RIP cousin Crockett). It’s inspiring, to say the least.
I suppose I’ll have to achieve some kind of greatness; wouldn’t want to disappoint the ancestors, after all. Changing my name to Luther seems like a good start.