When I researched my ancestry in the past (for family trees for school or for the genealogical website Geni), I was anxious, yes anxious, to find tragedy or strangeness. I found a little:
Mary Jane Shannon (my great-great grandmother) was married seven times and gave all of her children away to the Arnold family in Illinois. She drowned in a creek.
Mary Whittenburg (another great-great grandmother) left her husband and family and moved to Wichita in the late 1800s to become a prostitue.
(I see a pattern with women named Mary leaving their families in the late 19th century. Remind me to never name my child Mary.)
Daniel Lentz (great-great grandfather) died in a house fire in 1902.
His mother, Catherine, (great-great-great grandmother) was a full-blood Pawnee living in Arlington, Kansas.
John Kliewer (great-great-great grandfather) was a much-in-demand coffin maker in Russia. Then he was a Dietrich Gaeddart immigrant to America in 1874.
This generation lags in drama. I mean, my family has so much drama--just like yours, I'm sure--but there have been no fires or great abandonments.
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