I think I was born a history geek. I’ve always been fascinated by those who lived before me. I was thrilled to learn that several relatives had researched our family tree. Then – wonder of wonders – it was discovered that one branch of that tree led back to a royal line in Wales.
Woo-hoo! The mother lode. When you tap into a royal line, you can trace your family back past the darks ages. Names from history jump out at me from my royal pedigree. Famous people pepper my lineage.
Way back is Charlemagne. Remember him? He was a zealot Christian Emperor. He demanded that the pagan worshipping Saxons must convert to Christianity or be killed. Okay, maybe he was just a little nuts.
Did you know that Lady Godiva was a real person? That’s right; she’s on my pedigree as well. And she was . . . let’s just say I inherited my love of horseback riding from her and leave it at that.
William the Conqueror was crowned King of England even though he was an illegitimate, illiterate Frenchman who didn’t speak English. He slaughtered his way to the top of the hierarchy and onto the throne. Other than that, I’m sure he was a great guy.
But then there was Olaf the Woodcutter. I’m fairly certain he was a normal fellow.
Granddad always said if you shook our family tree, all the squirrels and nuts would fall out. Guess maybe Granddad knew what he was talking about.
image from morguefile.com