I know very little about my family tree. My grandparents and only aunt passed away before I graduated from high school. My father died when I was 27. I know I am a typical American mutt, comprised of many nationalities. I am German, English, and French on my father’s side, and Irish and Dutch on my mother’s side. I’ve been told my nearest purebred relative was my great grandather on my father’s side. He was a Native American from the Comanche tribe. My father was born in Marshalltown, Iowa, and the Comanches are a plains indian. When my father was 3 days old, my grandfather the lumberjack informed my grandmother that he wasn’t cut out to be a family man, and left. Being a single mom in the 1930’s must have been quite challenging. As my father grew older, my grandmother could not handle him and sent him to live with her mother and father. My father adored this man, he was very strict but very loving. Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to meet him. When I was very young, I can remember watching cowboy and Indian programs with my grandmother, always rooting for the Indians. We would watch these black and white shows while she braided my long hair. A bumper sticker I saw sums it up–my heroes have always killed cowboys. Of all that I am, I have the most pride in my Comanche background.