Speaking of trees, you should ask E2 about the dent in the truck...

If you've ever talked to me for more than five minutes in a row, you know that I find my family quite hilarious and that I like to tell stories about them. My immediate family can make me laugh harder, faster, than anything on earth. Because really, does poop humor ever get old? No. No, it doesn't, not even when you're at a crowded steak buffet.

The six of us are fairly close-knit, I think because we've been living 2,000 miles from any relatives. I know next to nothing about my extended family. I mean, yes, I have grandparents and an uncle here and there, and some cousins that irritate me on the rare occasions that I see them, but as far as a family history? No idea. I know that my maternal grandfather can trace his paternal line back to the Kennedys of the potato famine, and I know that my maternal grandmother's mother came here from Poland. I think. My dad thinks that his family is German. Maybe. Based on our last name, I would say it's a strong possibility. That's all I know. Oh, and my great-grandfather is suspected of having engineered his wife's somewhat-too-convenient death. So that's interesting, but hardly helpful.

In some ways this missing history bothers me. The family story is so tenuous, and it's going to slip away from me sooner or later. My maternal grandparents are going to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary in April, my grandfather's health is dodgy, my dad's father died last year, and even my parents won't be here forever, much as I cringe away from the thought. I want my probably-not-going-to-happen-but-who-knows kids and highly-likely-knowing-my-brother-and-sisters neices and nephews to know where they came from and to be able to finish school family tree projects instead of leaving everything past the trunk blank.

On the other hand, this missing history isn't a gaping hole in my mind that makes me feel as if I sprang fully formed from my parents' heads in a Minerva-like fashion. (I have other resemblances to Minerva, however. Infinite wisdom, etc.) Our little family unit is more than enough fodder for interesting stories (well, interesting to us—although really, who doesn't find the E.-projectile-vomits-on-Grandma story damned funny?) and basis for a strong family background. We've been a self-sustaining trunk for so long that I rarely think about the storm-broken branches above us.