It was a family reunion. All descendants of Valmai and Norman Watts and their seven children were invited to gather in the rural war memorial hall. By now there must be hundreds of descendants, from near and far. It was way back in 1862 that Valmai and Frank Watts settled in their new country on a wild piece of land far, far from anywhere.
How exciting! Frankie had always been interested in family history. Of course he would attend. He travelled over three hundred miles to be there.
He struck up conversation with Patricia. She was a second cousin twice removed. Her granddaughter was named Alberta after a great aunt who was born somewhere in Canada, and she married Bert and that brought her into the family, Bert being the brother of Freddie and Laurie. And she had four other grandchildren, one of which was Valmai, but she didn’t know at the time that her great-great-great grandmother was also called Valmai. Isn’t that wonderful?
And then Frankie struck up conversation with Hector who was turning sixty-five next Christmas, because he was born on Christmas Day and had named his three children Merry, Joy and Noel in honour of Christmas. And Aunty Leanne had done a similar thing, and he had fourteen grandchildren, four of whom were illegitimate but that didn’t matter, did it? because it was still the blood line of the original ancestors although the four had disappeared off the map having been adopted out.
Then Frankie struck up conversation with Angela who had married a Dutchman, but they were divorced, but not before she had three children who are all here. There’s one of them over there with the blonde hair. She’s got two kiddies with another on the way, and we must be fourteenth cousins or something like that, and isn’t it fascinating to see all these people. Would you like to see photographs of my grandchildren?
Next Frankie… blow it, he thought, I should really leave. He had nothing in common with anyone, except for some of his genes, and none of that seemed to matter. Everyone seemed caught up in their own little world. He himself didn’t have any kids. He had the same conversations about other people’s kids during the Friday end-of-week drinks at work. But, then, he thought he’d wait. He had an announcement to make.
Come the official toast and Frankie was to give a little speech; he being something of an amateur historian amongst the assembled genetic gaggle.
“You do realise,” said Frankie, “that our ancestor, Norman Watts, was gay. The marriage was one of convenience. Every one of their seven children was fathered by a different neighbour. He himself lived in a little shed down the back of the garden. No one here, just no one, is descended from Norman Watts.”
Well, that sent shock waves through the assembled mob. It wasn’t true, of course, but it certainly stopped everyone from spouting on about their grandchildren.
Listen the story being read HERE!
I read the story and then listened to you reading it – and you read it exactly as I had in my head 🙂 Wouldn’t that outcome be a hoot to throw into all kinds of famous genealogical lines! 🙂
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Faced with the aggressive braggadocio of old dolts whose main claim to attention was that they (like the birds, bees, bats and rats) had been procreative, Frankie decided to be creative. Good for Frankie!
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The only (relatively) interesting family tree is ones own! And the spicier the better!
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A spicier tree would be a Chile de arbol?
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The heat of Chile de arbil is 50,000 – 65,000 Scoville units. That’s one of a helluva hot Mexican!
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Those units are measured going in. They double coming out!
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LOL! I remember that as graffiti on the urinal wall of a Burmese restaurant in Wellington: “If you think the curry’s hot, just wait till it comes out!”
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LOL! It probably exists in a number of lines with the descendants unaware!
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Imagine my surprise when I happened on the fact that a great-great-grandmother of mine was an unwed mother, member of the Micmac tribe of American Indians…..a fact the very mention of which was taboo in the French branch of the family…but sometimes brought up by the Scottish/Irish branch, just to antagonize.
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Gosh – and what a classy set of genes! I have nothing so exciting in my background – although I did discover – long after he had passed away – that my father’s registered name was Scrimshaw!
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Oh, that’s a lovely name….one to be etched in the bone.
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I’m thinking of hyphenating my grand-parental names: Goodman-Peers-Scrimshaw-Lightoller!
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With a name like that, I, for one, wouldn’t want to mess with you!
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You wouldn’t want to type it out too often either!
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Ha! Something I’m certain you’d regret at a book signing!
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Now…. I’ve just got to write the book…
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Not to besmirch anyone’s lineage, I bet there are many more branches than most families are aware of grafted on to the hefty trunk of the ancestral tree. Good one, Bruce.
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“Some things don’t bear much lookin’ into” – Winnie in Joseph Conrad’s novel “The Secret Agent”!
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What a hoot! Nice to know where you come from, but bad to be obsessed with it.
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Family tree research is like doing a crossword, but now there’s so much “misinformation” online that it’s hard to trace things….!
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What a scamp! I would have loved to be a fly on the wall! BTW, I am a Noelle – but only a twinkle in my father’s eye on that date!
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I thought of you, Noelle, when I typed it out!
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This sounds like every holiday with my family! They have truly multiplied like rabbits. I have lost count of all the nephew/nieces and grandnephews/grandnieces let alone all the names! In fact, there are three I have yet to meet.
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Mine know how to breed as well! And the grand-nieces and nephews – I haven’t met them all yet either – but I keep everyone’s statistics in a family tree program.
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I don’t refer to them by names anymore, just “your boy or the girl”. Too many to remember. Well, except Autumn Symphony, she’s two years old.
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That’s a lovely and evocative name. Let’s hope, however, that the next one in not Fall in A flat minor.
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No not yet. But, There is an Audrey Asia, Fidel the IV, Rose Estrella.
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My parents descendants, apart from most being New Zealanders, include India, Fiji, Vanuatu, NZ Maori, Holland, Jordan, English, Dubai, Australian, and… wait for it… Mexican!
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My daughter in law Holly’s Aussie Mum is into genealogy in a big way. She has discovered that Holly and Sam have mutual ancestors who lived some centuries ago two villages four miles apart in Devon.
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I always thought those Australian convicts had genetic similarities!
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The typical family hey? Nothing can stop them from going on about their grandchildren!
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True!
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