My dad came up this weekend for Father’s Day, bringing with him an old photo album.

His mother gave him this photo album for Christmas in 1978, less than two months before she died in February 1979. I was born in July 1980 and have spent my life hearing stories about my dad’s mom, Clara Mae, and have always been disappointed that I never got to meet her. The fact that she and I never met, and yet that I always felt very close to her, is part of what fueled my belief in Heaven from a very, very early age, because though we never met I always felt she was near, and that someday I’d get to see her.

This is Clara Mae:

That’s her and my grandfather, Joe Nathan, my namesake. He died just before I turned 6 years old.

This is my dad. He grew up in Hackett, Arkansas:

Though to be honest, if I’d been handed this photograph, I might have thought it was my younger brother:

Ohhhhhh, he’s gonna kick my ass for putting that photograph on the internet. So, to be fair, here’s this:

That would be me. That photo actually appears on one side of my new freelance business cards, because, apparently, I have lost my mind.

Boy, this blog post ended up in a different place than it started out in.

So, Joe Nathan, the guy I’m named after? This is a photo of his grandparents and their children.

I love the 19th-century metadata at the bottom of the photo; I might never have known that this was taken in Grangeville, Idaho, at the Elite Studio. The handsomely mustachioed man is Joel T. Gunter, who is Joe Nathan’s grandfather (my older brother is named Joel as well). His wife was Minta Dolan; she was one-half Cherokee but her last name is an Irish one. I knew I had some Irish in me. Joel was born March 29, 1861 and died in 1943. Minta was born on September 26, 1862 and died in 1930. They were married November 20, 1881.

The tall boy in the back is Nathan, like me; we have the same first and last name, and he passed his name on to his son, who then passed it on to me. Nathan was born on January 3, 1883 and died January 14, 1938, when my dad, his grandson, was not yet 3 years old. Also, do you know what’s weird? I have always been FASCINATED by Idaho, and have wanted to visit there since I was small. I never have, but now that I have this connection I have even more reason to.

Ever since my dad let me keep the photo album for a few days to get some of these pictures scanned I’ve become utterly fascinated by my family’s history. Just in the 36 or so hours since Father’s Day I have come across a wealth – a fecundity – of information about my roots, and I’m going to be posting a little more about it as the days roll on. It’s really fascinating stuff, and I’d love to hear any of my readers’ family histories in the comments. Come on, people, I know you’ve got some good stuff in those genes! Let it out!

*Post title comes from a great new song by K.C. Clifford that she wrote for this film.