Most people are proud of their ancestry and family tree.  I thought learning about my family would be a liberating, cathartic experience, similar to a root canal without anesthesia.

The further I dug into my family's past, the more convinced I was that I needed  a new name and identity.  Why should I be connected in any way to the indiscretions and crimes of my ancestors?  For example, someone with the last name "Hitler" is going to have a hard time in life unless they live in Austria or certain parts of Idaho.

My mother's side of the family were mostly coal miners and female impersonators (including the women).  Their lives were very hard because they lived in a country that did not have any coal deposits.   They kept digging anyway because they were idiots.

My father's side of the family were lobster fishermen and rodeo clowns.  They led a nomadic life, travelling from one village to the next, in search of lobster rodeos.

My family crest is a bagel flanked by two banana peels.  None of my ancestors served in the military, but they were accused of starting several wars.  A distant cousin of mine bit Winston Churchill on the leg.  Two not so great uncles were executed by the Chinese for playing paddle ball on the Great Wall of China.

When my grandparents arrived in America, via Ellis Island, they became peddlers, selling organic office supplies and free range golf balls.  My parents met at a Marxist Sock Hop in Hoboken, New Jersey.  They were married on Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn, causing a tremendous traffic jam and several injuries to guests and motorists.

This is my family tree.  Timber!!!