My name is Laura Paulsen Howe. I'm LDS and I'm a little obsessed with family history.
That's not really the whole confession. I'm like early-80s-when-I-still-have-enough-vitality-to-make-it-to-the-Family-History-Center-daily obsessed. I dream of having a room in our house decorated with photographs of various ancestors where I can receive inspiration on Thomas Murray's mortal whereabouts. Maybe Talmage's room will do. Since he would like to sleep in my bed nightly, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Tyler can sleep on the couch.
This love comes directly from my Grandma Ramona, the woman who has quizzed me much of my life on my ancestors. This tendency became even more funny when Tyler married into my family, and she began quizzing Tyler on my ancestors, too. "Now Tyler," she would begin. "Who is Laura's great-great-great-great grandfather who cut stone for the St. George temple?" Even more funny is the disgust I'd feel as I condescended, "Clearly, Tyler, it's William Fawcett. First wagon into the St. George valley." Obviously.
The most obnoxious thing about this family history obsession is that I am aware of how complex family relations work and feel obligated to explain them to you. "This is Joan," someone might introduce me. "She's my mother's cousin's granddaughter. She's like my fourth cousin, or something." "No," I'll correct. "She's your second cousin once removed. Would you like directions to the Family History Center? My name is Laura."
Tyler's lack of knowledge about ancestors extends to his own family history. This was made apparent as we canvased family names in a search for what to call Asher. We had already discarded names from art history, names from hit 90s TV shows (Chandler didn't get as much consideration as I would have liked), names from early Mormon apostles, and last names of early Mormon apostles. Tyler could go back one generation of names (Darris and Gail) and two generations (Alonzo, Mary, Noel, and Renee) but when I asked if he knew Noel's parents' names he said, "Sure. Great-grandpa and Great-grandma Howe." Our child's name could have been Asher Great-grandpa Howe.
I also like to believe that personality traits are genetically passed down fully intact, oh, six generations or so. This was made clear in a conversation with my mom this past week. Mom's stake is doing a Pioneer Trek later this summer and they were going to walk a portion of the Mormon Trail to practice. A snowstorm had been forecast and Mom was panicked. She envisioned the Mormon Trail going up over Little Mountain, and ended up wearing full Everest regalia to walk through the streets of Salt Lake City. But her original thought was that there was no way the stake was going to make her trek through the snow.
"I'm sure they'll cancel it," she said with enough confidence to hide her trepidation.
"Mom, people hike trails in the winter all the time," I retorted.
"Well, this is a church function. The kids will get pneumonia."
"It's not going to be that snowy, Mom. You'll enjoy it."
"Well, I'm not hiking in the snow."
I finally said with exasperation. "Mom, you need to challenge some Norwegian stoicism. Abel Paulsen braved the fjords above the Artic Circle and ENJOYED it."
"I'm only married in," she explained. "My ancestors aren't from Norway."
"That's right," I realized. "Your ancestors are from Ireland. They went to the pubs in the face of adversity."
Mom eventually drowned her sorrows in a jar of Marshmallow Fluff.
In the interest of celebrating the addictive Irish parts of my personality, here's a recipe for Irish Potatoes, a festive treat to pop back while you rejoice that you aren't eating the other traditional St. Patrick's day food: corned beef and cabbage. (I mean really, it MUST have been the potato famine that caused a nation to delight in boiled greens.)
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I loved this post. You made me laugh. And I don't even like family history.
ReplyDeleteOkay. Listen, you. I don't know who you are and I don't have room in my life for another blog to read, but I just read a bunch of your posts and now I have to add you to my reader because you are a great writer and smart. My kids, who are being neglected, would like to say: Thanks a lot.
ReplyDeletePosts like this make me really miss talking to you daily, even though it's been almost 7 years.
ReplyDeleteMy ancestors are a mix, but I am 50% Swiss. We just ignore the rest of the world and eat chocolate. Works for me.
I guess I've rejected my Irish heritage b/c I don't like Marshmallow Fluff.
ReplyDeleteI love boiled greens it's the corned beef that is just plain wrong!
ReplyDeleteThis post made me laugh because when my husband is asked about HIS family history, he turns to ask ME! I do in fact know more about his family history than he does (though that isn't really saying much). ;) This is due to my long and very interesting conversations with his grandparents after we lived in his great-great Grandmother's house for a year (also where his great-grandma grew up and also his grandma used to live--very cool, maybe you are one of the few who would understand how cool that really is).
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