Oh God its my parents.

My own history is something that is hard for me to completely address because there is just so much I could say, and thousands of stories that I feel play a huge impact on the "story of me". But to really get to the root of things, it comes down to Katherine and Michael, a.k.a. my mother and father. Out of every story, event, relationship, and daily decision I've faced, the choices I've made and history I've created for myself tie back to the relationship I have with my mom and dad, whether I liked it or not. I come from a family of four; my father, mother, older sister, and me. From an outside perspective, we look like the typical white, Northern Minnesotan, go to Catholic mass every Sunday, eat at the dinner table, "achieve in school or else!", boring family. When in reality I don't know anyone else that was raised in anyway remotely close to how my sister and I were. Part of that ties back to the unique history of my own parents. My mother's parents were both European, and only moved to the United States in about their 30's, partially due to her father being a Jew living in Germany during the War. Her father passed away when she was 10 years old, and she spent the rest of her young life growing up in Minneapolis with her Danish mother, and younger sister. My father on the other hand grew up with his mother, father, and 8 other siblings, him being the eldest. He grew up in the suburbs in a 3 bedroom house, causing tons of trouble well into his 20's. Now that I am old enough to really see how differently they were raised, compared to how they chose to raise a family, I am able to see the unique combination of their idea of what they wanted for us unavoidably mixed with their own personal history.

They married in their 30's, moved to the middle of nowhere Northern Minnesota (population 702)and I was born when my mother was 37, and father 42. My older sister is three years older than me, and as people and personalities go we couldn't be more different, but because of our upbringing are in many ways alike. We grew up outside. With both parents working for the Department of Natural Resources, there was rarely a day we weren't outside fishing, camping, hiking, or just not allowed to go inside the house. Material things were never really a factor in our lives, and I was very content living in my sand box until I was about 10. But as I grew older I started to realize that most people I met were much different then me in the things they valued, and the way their families interacted. For the first time I questioned my parents, and this led to some resentment as I headed into high school. Then I started realizing how much like them I really was, the extreme anxiety and awkward conversation skills of my mother, the introverted personality of my father, and the annoying fact that my sister seemed to somehow twist all of our inherited "weirdness" in her favor. It was like I couldn't not be like them, even if I tried.

Only in the past couple of years have I come to truly appreciate my history, and the way my parents have influenced me as a person. I now look back on the hand made bunny costume my mother made me (as opposed to all my friends who had the cool Target flower headbands), the long hiking trips with my family, and the countless other events in my life that have shaped my personal history, as something to be greatly appreciated.