Heritage, Or, It’s Not My Fault



It’s what you find when you’re not looking…..

I have, way back there, some Viking ancestors.


A couple of bad asses, really.

And learned today that I also have some Puritans on the other side.

Boston hard cases, great-grandsons of the Mayflower:

One squinted into the sun, unbelieving,

At the red coats lined across from him on Concord Green.

That maybe explains why I occasionally have

The urge to pillage and ravish, maybe go for a little trip….

But still feel really, really guilty about it.

4 Replies to “Heritage, Or, It’s Not My Fault”

  1. Wonderful!
    My giant husband has got Viking blood – and I’m all Italian – my son enjoys slicing pizza with sabre-like movements 🙂
    great post – you’re quite the witty fellow!
    imagine how much more plundering you’d be involved in if you didn’t have guilt 😉

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Oops – plundering and ravishing with a side of guilt!
        I and one of my other sisters often joke how our mom and dad are so much like Frank and Marie Barrone from ‘Everybody Loves Raymond!” We have guilt but we heap humor on top to survive 🙂


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