Well, I cracked the code on Jerry’s ancestors. At some point they changed their name. This means my maiden name does not mean small fenced-in backyard, but instead large locked sheep pasture. I don’t know if this is an upgrade.
The last time he saw us, Jerry admonished my 9-year-old brother to be good because he would carry on the family name. Hmph. That name he was so proud of didn’t exist 100 years earlier.
Once I knew who I was looking for I found DNA matches and finally, a skeleton in the paternal closet to equal the incestuous maternal side. Someone interesting. Jerry’s side had a confederate solider who went AWOL in 1862, returned, then was declared a deserter in 1864.
if I held any truck with this ancestry nonsense I would point out the significance of my deadbeat father’s family having a history of desertion.