The Importance of Family Roots

This august we had a special visitor. This is my dad’s second cousin on our Johns side of the family. He’s British, living in Sweden, and put in a lot of work of creating a family tree of the Johns family that dates back to the 1600s. This was his first time in the US, and my first time meeting him. And it’s felt like he’s always been a close family member.

This photo was taken of us on our journey into New York City at the oldest pub in the city called McSorley’s Old Ale House. I’m not the biggest fan of beer, but I tapped into my British roots (his words, not mine), and had a dark beer with him (you can only order dark or light).

This bar really was a flash from the past. There’s no music playing. The sound is sucked into the old wood. Sawdust scatters the floor. And the bartenders sit everyone together, forcing people to converse with each other. Brought me back to a time before cell phones existed.

We also took him to his first ever baseball game. And what better way to be introduced to baseball than seeing the Yankees! Unfortunately they lost and played like crap, but that’s kind of expected these days. It was still an awesome experience seeing his bewildered reaction of something that is normal for us. He said he enjoyed seeing the stadium filled with families, parents bringing their children to the game.

Wondering about my family history was something I never really cared for growing up. But now I realized that this precious time I got to spend with a distant relative not only benefited me as a writer, but made me appreciate my roots, the history of my family, and how family traditions really shape the following generations.