Nina Lewis

I do not like genealogy.  Never have.  Probably never will.

I can be standing in line at the grocery store or at the airport and a complete stranger will end up telling me his genealogy.  All the way back 8 generations.

It’s gotten to be a family joke. 

But, I don’t find it funny.  I must have a sign on my back that says “Tell me your genealogy.”  Maybe it’s God’s way of punishing me for not liking genealogy.

It’s the searching-for-dates-frustration that I don’t like.  Do I care when great-great-great grandma Annie Katrina was born? Nope.  Married?  Nope.  When she died?  Not really.  Heartless little cuss, aren’t I?

On the other hand, I must say that I have helped family members write their personal history.  Like my Dad.  My father-in-law.  My step-mother.  My step-mother’s father.  That ought to give me some grace in God’s eyes don’t you think?

However, my crusty anti-genealogy heart got a kick out of this movie!

Leave a Reply