I am adopted, true story. I hunger for meaning.

But then we all hunger for meaning.

Some people try to find it by seeing their lives as part of an evolving process, a link between the past and the present.

They do internet searches, join DNA websites, go to websites where people openly share their family tree.

They rummage through old letters, yellowed photographs and dusty birth certificates in municipal courthouses.

They might find out someone famous is in their bloodline.

They write to distant members of their family and visit the countries of their ancestors.

They want to find their roots, to establish a connection to their past which will render their lives more meaningful.

And what happens?

They sink into a bottomless pit.

And why?

Because everyone has two parents, four grandparents, eight great grandparents, sixteen great great grandparents, and thirty-two great great great grandparents. The numbers mount exponentially. By the time they reach the tenth generation, they find one thousand and twenty-three ancestors. By the twentieth, they reach one million, forty-eight thousand, five hundred and seventy-six. And by the fortieth, one billion, seventy-three million, seven hundred and forty-one thousand, six-hundred and twenty-four.

Far more people than could possibly have lived on the earth over a thousand years ago. It doesn't make sense, unless we’re all related.

Your family, the meaning you seek, exists in the present.

Peace.

The American Degenerate