Family Tree

Tonight I convinced Suzanne and Jeff to rustle up a heap of family photos, etc… for my viewing pleasure. I’m a nerd for family trees, oral histories, photo albums and the like, and, hoping to one day have children of our own, I’d like to have lots of photos and family history to pass on to them, as my mother and grandmothers did for my brother and I.

The little I already knew of Ben’s family history was rich: His Dad is Jewish-Australian, at least fifth generation, and Safardic Jews (for my WASP-y friends that means that his family were once Spanish Jews, prior to the Inquisition. I’m sure it means a lot more but I’m just figuring it out.) Ben’s mother was born in Poona, India, to an English man and a northern Irish woman, and just showed me pictures of her Ayah. For reals. That is some Secret Garden shiz right there, folks. (If you get that reference we are totally destined to be friends.)

What I learned tonight is that Ben’s father’s MATERNAL lineage is Safardic, but his father’s PATERNAL heritage is descended from Russia, just five generations ago, making Ben’s Jewish heritage both Safardic and Ashkenazi. Cool, huh? (His paternal grandfather also looks eerily like Brad Garrett, from Everybody Loves Raymond, just FYI.) After the Second World War, in response to the anti-semitism in Australia, Ben’s family changed their name from Goldberg to Gerrard. Jeff, Ben’s dad, and Jason, his cousin, have both considered changing it back at some point in their adult lives. Also, it turns out that Ben’s great-grandmother was from New Zealand, and that her daughter, while raised in Australia, was also born in New Zealand, so Ben’s part Kiwi, too.

Like so many Americans, my family history is rich and varied, too. My maternal grandfather was the Kansas Farmer of the Year, and someone in my family has served in every major American war up to the Gulf War in the early 90s, but we’re also horse thieves and moonshine runners. My maternal grandmother’s family has Quaker lineage from “the first ship to arrive AFTER the Mayflower”, while my paternal grandfather’s parents were born to Swedish immigrants. I have British, Swedish, Dutch and French ancestry, in that order as far as I know, and that’s just what we know about.

And I love that, in America, this is not exceptional, and that this is most of us. Isn’t that wonderful?

Should Ben and I be fortunate enough to have children, I just love thinking about how rich their heritage will be. I’m not sure where we’ll be raising them, but someday, someone will ask them about their family, and what an answer that will be: “My parents met in a bar in Scotland. Mom’s an American, from Kansas (well, she has a Kansas heart, but a Georgia belly.) Dad’s Australian, but was born in Boston while my grandfather was doing his psychiatric residency. My Aunt? She was born in Canada. My other Aunt? Her parents are German, and met in Prague on a weekend trip. My Mom was raised Methodist and thought about being a minister, but now she goes to meetings with The Society of Friends. Dad does Zen meditation, and goes to church when Mom makes him, but he’s Jewish, too.”

If life is just a collection of stories, our kids will have great ones to start with.