Everyone has them somewhere in their family tree. You know. The great-great grandfather no one will talk about because he was hung as a “hoss thief”. Or the distant cousin who died penniless because he had a drinking and gambling problem. Then there’s the early pioneer who came west and no one is quite sure how he was related but he may or may not have killed his partner over a gold mine. Everyone has one. Except me. 

How is it my family is so uninteresting that I don’t have someone I’ve never heard of? Sure, I have the usual assortment of creeps and pervs in my tree but I’ve heard of them for christ’s sake. I do have some Native American heritage. Cherokee to be precise, but I think we just sold trinkets and blankets at fruit stands and such. Not a goddamn cannibal in the bunch. No warrior chief who raided the ‘long-knives’. I’m not even sure we took any of their women. Nothing. 

I’ve tried digging into my history. Asking the elders of any known miscreants or do-badders that might have been tucked away. Nope. To hear them tell it everyone was a frickin’ saint. They led long vanilla coated lives. I even tried one of those internet family tree thinga-ma-bobs. You know, give them $29.95 and a list of names and they give you back the dirt. They sent me back a letter that said “Seriously? We fell asleep looking you up. Get a life.” They kept the $29.95 though. 

Not a single pirate, or a bandit, a bootlegger, or gun-runner. How can skipping 5 th period social studies in the 7 th grade be the highlight of a family tree? What sinister gene was missing in the family pool? And where can we get one? I suppose I could live vicariously through others. “Hey, I knew a guy once whose grandfather knew a guy who knew a guy who rode a mule in a horse parade.” Whoop-de-doo.

So here I sit with my small bowl of vanilla ice cream watching everyone else eat their banana splits with six toppings and crushed nuts. Eh, I’m not looking for any nut crushing but how about at least a paper cut? A rug burn? Sand in my eye? It’s like walking through life without a shadow. No flavor. No texture.

As if the fates weren’t cruel enough, time and circumstance has found me sitting in the chair of Patriarch for the family. Looking back I guess I’ve always been there. The oldest son. The oldest brother. The first one everyone turns to. The last one everyone remembers. My hands on the reigns and the eyes of a gecko. Oh, and I almost forgot, my ass is really an ATM machine. 

At some point though this ol’ boy is gonna break out. I’m going to hunt Bigfoot. I’m going to swim in Loch Ness with monsters. Catch ghosts on film. Have lunch with a leprechaun on my shoulder. And I’m going to find that metallic blue ’67 Buick LeSabre and drive my grandson to school like I did his mother. I guess it’s left up to me to be the one no one ever talks about.