Sure, they probably had some great stories about adventures they had, people they knew, places they'd lived, and family... something about family! Well, I paid no attention to it, and didn't ask any questions in hopes that they would soon leave me along to play outside with in the dirt with my trucks.
Then I had children of my own.
I had a momentary flash of insight that someday they would ask me questions about all those adults, family members, and where we all came from and what our family history was all about. Crumbs. I was panic-stricken. I knew nothing. I really had done a fantastic job of not paying attention to any of it. I mean, I think I knew who my grandparents were; I had met them and thanked them for Lego on a few birthdays. But other than that, nothing.
I'd either have to get really imaginative and make up an entire family history on the fly, and one that would certainly come out sounded a lot like a mix between Star Wars and the Indiana Jones movies, or I would now have to start asking questions.
And that is when I started getting into Genealogy. I had a job to do for my children, and I meant to do it well.
Enter the Cousin Detective.
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