Genealogy - I am doing it?

I've been telling people for years that my great-great-great (or something like that) grandfather started the Salt Lake Tribune. I remember learning that when I was a kid, but I've never seen any solid evidence.

Then the other day there was an article in the Trib about the paper's history and it mentioned "Godbeites". My ancestor's name was William S. Godbe, so I did some tedious and painstaking research into the matter. I found this article on Wikipedia about Godbeites and this one about Godbe himself.

To those of you not in my family: I know it's boring to read about other people's heritage. But I found this fairly interesting as Godbe was a former Mormon who had major political differences with the church and used writing as his avenue of expression.

I doubt he was as good an artist as I am though.

Berth Day

I've done a lot of thinking. What has come of it? Not much. Besides a blog, of course. But this "thinking" I've done specifically pertains to a certain day of significance (according to most others besides me).

Here's the thing about my birthday, and birthdays in general: Who gives a shit?

OK, so a few people probably give some moderate-to-gigantic-sized shits about the celebration of the day I was born.

But to me it's another day. I don't really care about other people's birthdays, so I don't expect anyone to care about mine. Simple as that. Is it selfish? Perhaps. Or does it just make sense because, by definition, we were all born...and the annually-occurring calendar day that marks our chronological progression is less relevant to our lives than every other day in the year? Am I right?

I know lots of people like to have a day that's all about them (and I'm not judging those people), but for me I don't like recognition for things I had nothing to do with. If your response to that is, "Well, you made it this far", you're just insulting the dead. Shame on you. And if your response is, "Well, you should throw a party for your parents then", you're asking too much from me. I love my parents, but I hate throwing parties.

Lindsay's family (who is unrelentingly awesome to me) wanted to throw me a birthday dinner, but I didn't want one. I was totally fine with a family dinner, but I didn't want to be the "main event" or "special guest" or whatever. So, I asked Lindsay to let her family know that I didn't want presents, cake, or any special recognition. It ended up working against me somewhat in that by NOT wanting to make a big deal of it, it sort of became a big deal. See, her family is big on birthdays and mine isn't. Simply a difference of upbringing.

While I'm engaging in this stream of consciousness, I'll say this:

Is it just me, or does receiving a birthday card/check in the mail from your grandma make you feel like such a kid? And receiving a birthday card/check in the mail from your parents make you feel like such an adult?

So to say the least, I'm not sure how to proceed. One thing's for sure: I won't refuse a delicious BBQ dinner, no matter what the occassion. If you want to kill a pig in my name, god bless you in your efforts.