Ok, hey...check this out...I'm American, after all!
Turns out after all those teenage years of bashing the old US of A, Uncle Sam is coming back to me and slapping me across the face, American style. Alright, so, I'd be telling lies if I said I'm a real American and all...got no citizenship papers or anything, and I've only been to the States a dozen times in my whole life. But honestly, there IS some American blood running through those veins. No pride or shame in admitting that, it's only a fact. Well, until I get proof of the contrary. I just might, just might not...who knows?
So, what the fuck is going on, with that whole "VT being an American" deal?
I learned about that...like, 3 hours ago, at dinner time. My father spent the day with his mother today, and they were flipping through pictures...and by that, I mean real old pictures. And when my father saw a picture of his grandfather(my great-grandfather), he asked who that guy was(cuz he didn't remember the old man...I mean, my father was the 10th child in his family, so I guess his grandfather passed away before he was born), and his mother told him he was his father's father. But there was something wrong with his name...didn't catch the whole deal, my father looked pretty excited as he was telling the story...either the old man's name wasn't the same as ours, or it was his parents' names...but yeah, there was something wrong with someone's last name up there in the family tree. And it was related to some adoption story.
Turns out my great-grandfather was adopted by my great-great-grandparents at the age of one, and he was from the United States. My father wanted to know which state, but, since this was stuff from my grandfather's side of the family, my grandmother didn't know. My father knows his father still has 2 sisters alive: One lives somewhere in the US, the other lives in a rural area not very far from here. And now he wants to investigate in order to find out where his grandfather is from.
Now, I dunno what my great-great-grandparents did for a living...but considering my grandfather was a lumberjack(sweet, huh? Grandpa was a lumberjack...and I'm on my way to go study psychology...I am doing the whole family a big favor here...ok, so, my cousin's already a doctor in radiology or something...but heck, she's way older than I am, therefore, it doesn't count...), I don't think they were the richest people alive. They supposedly used a train to pick up my great-grandfather...If we use logics, I'm pretty confident my great-grandfather must've been from one of the states that touch the province of Québec, or very, very close ones. I mean, his adoptive father probably was a farmer or a lumberjack, something along those lines, couldn't possibly have taken the train down to, say, Georgia and back to Québec in order to adopt a damn American brat, y'know.
Anyways, this isn't monstrously exciting or anything, but it's just nice to think that I just might have roots from a European country other than France. Even if it's just England(not that there's anything wrong with having your roots in England. It's just, y'know...ordinary, around here. As is France in Québec). Guess I'll find out when my father gets his big investigation going.
So, what the fuck is going on, with that whole "VT being an American" deal?
I learned about that...like, 3 hours ago, at dinner time. My father spent the day with his mother today, and they were flipping through pictures...and by that, I mean real old pictures. And when my father saw a picture of his grandfather(my great-grandfather), he asked who that guy was(cuz he didn't remember the old man...I mean, my father was the 10th child in his family, so I guess his grandfather passed away before he was born), and his mother told him he was his father's father. But there was something wrong with his name...didn't catch the whole deal, my father looked pretty excited as he was telling the story...either the old man's name wasn't the same as ours, or it was his parents' names...but yeah, there was something wrong with someone's last name up there in the family tree. And it was related to some adoption story.
Turns out my great-grandfather was adopted by my great-great-grandparents at the age of one, and he was from the United States. My father wanted to know which state, but, since this was stuff from my grandfather's side of the family, my grandmother didn't know. My father knows his father still has 2 sisters alive: One lives somewhere in the US, the other lives in a rural area not very far from here. And now he wants to investigate in order to find out where his grandfather is from.
Now, I dunno what my great-great-grandparents did for a living...but considering my grandfather was a lumberjack(sweet, huh? Grandpa was a lumberjack...and I'm on my way to go study psychology...I am doing the whole family a big favor here...ok, so, my cousin's already a doctor in radiology or something...but heck, she's way older than I am, therefore, it doesn't count...), I don't think they were the richest people alive. They supposedly used a train to pick up my great-grandfather...If we use logics, I'm pretty confident my great-grandfather must've been from one of the states that touch the province of Québec, or very, very close ones. I mean, his adoptive father probably was a farmer or a lumberjack, something along those lines, couldn't possibly have taken the train down to, say, Georgia and back to Québec in order to adopt a damn American brat, y'know.
Anyways, this isn't monstrously exciting or anything, but it's just nice to think that I just might have roots from a European country other than France. Even if it's just England(not that there's anything wrong with having your roots in England. It's just, y'know...ordinary, around here. As is France in Québec). Guess I'll find out when my father gets his big investigation going.