Still, I hope that one day not only will this weblog (webblog? is it just blog now?) series of writings what can be looked at on the internets will show up when people enter my name into Google (or "Alta-vista" me), but also that one day people will actually be performing such a search (i.e. "Asking Jeeves" about me. And yes, I did write this back in 2010, so all you people of the future should be duly impressed by my use of your current short hand term for internet searches (or "asking dot com me"). Thus, I think I should tell the world a little bit more about my past.
First, I am descended from the apes, as are all humans living in states that generally vote democratic, but unlike those people, I am also descended from bears. Specifically, my ancient ancestry goes like this: apes, ape-man, man, bear, man-bear, human, bear, human, me. This is less confusing if you realize that evolution is not a one way street. After all, what is a bear but a man who made a choice? And what is a man but a bear that stole too many pic-a-nic baskets and started wearing a ranger hat? And what is a man-bear but a former-ape-man after extensive unnecessary surgeries?
More recently (or at least no more than one time-of-the-bear ago), my ancestry was Scandinavian (a Swede is just a Norwegian that made a choice, and/or vice verse) and Scotch-Irish (someone from Scotland who moved to Ireland because when you have a chance to experience protestant-catholic violence, you can't pass that up). I may also have ancestors from other places (the foul depths of Atlantis, perhaps), but that is lost to history.
My Scandinavian past explains why I sometime have the berserk rage of the Viking (or Wiking, as they were called by some cultures of that time that had superstitions about two V's being better than one) and also explains my love of herring, cold weather, socialist medicine and fjords. In fact, legend (also, my grandfather) tells a story of how my name, Falk (without a U, because that is for Germans and NFL running backs, and comes from Faulkenberg) arose from the might armies of Sweden's King Gustav Vasa (or some other guy, maybe named Carl, the story isn't clear on that detail). Because Erick the Red or some other Eric or Erik were so popular, apparently 9 out of 10 men in Sweden at the time were named Erikson, including my noble ancestor. To make it possible for officers to yell at them, the army simply re-named the soldiers, presumably after whatever bird was flying over at the time. Thus, but for the grace of King Carl (or Gustav, or maybe Sigismund), my name could have been not Falk, but Seagullvson.
As for my Scotch-Irish side, my ancestry comes from the Hamilton and Lindsey clans, only one of which I really know anything about. Because my name isn't Lindsey. The Hamilton clan, before going to Ireland in search of religious strife and cabbage, was known for its valor and bravery, and also for hiding in the woods and pretending to be lumberjacks while the cops ran by. The Hamilton Crest features a tree crossed with a saw, and the phrase "Through", which is either Scottish or Irish for "Timber!" or possibly "Fore!" or "Watch Yo-self!" The story is that some great Hamilton patriarch had gotten on the wrong side of the law, or some other lord, or a baron with a police force or something, and had to run away. Once in the woods, the Hamilton found some wood cutters, paid them for their clothes and tools, and pretended to be chopping wood while the police chased (and presumably caught and summarily executed) the wood cutters. This explains my love of chopping wood (and also my love of pretending to chop wood), and my cleverness is dodging authority figures.
Stay tuned for more of my history, including parts that I was actually alive for.
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