…for those I am blood related to. My father recently passed away and I have been going through photo albums….dismantling them…to share the photos with others. I cannot, nor want to, keep all of these photos. Most of the people captured on these pieces of paper are unknown to me. I am blood related to none of them, even my parents. I am adopted. When I first found my bio-mom, I wanted to know about the family tree. Over time, I came to question the point of doing so. Most of them are dead. There is nothing they can offer me because most of the people who know their story are dead. Who cares that they came from another country? Who cares that they were related to Abe Lincoln? Who cares that they rode with Jesse James? Does it make me better than anyone else? No.

I have been tasked with scanning old photos so that they can be added to an ancestry site. My thought is…why? Why are so many people infatuated with the past? Do they think the choices their ancestors made define who they are today and the choices they make? Do they know any of these people they are wanting photos of? The people who could identify the people in the photos are dead. This task feels like a wasted effort on my part. I just want all the photos gone so that I can move on to the next task that needs to be accomplished for cleaning out my parents home.

There is a freedom found in not knowing who you are blood related to. You have a clean slate not tarnished by shit others have done. I have found that family does not mean blood related. A family is a group of people who have your back, regardless if they are blood related to you or not. Those are the people I want to surround myself with. Some of my family I’ve never met but I know they will be there to support me in whatever I choose for my life. I will do the same for them.

Peace out homies