Only Eight Generations
When 250 years became surprisingly personal.
The Fourth of July has always been one of my favorite summer days. This year felt different.
Maybe it’s because America is now 250 years old. Maybe it’s because over the last few years I’ve become more than a little obsessed with genealogy. Whatever the reason, I found myself thinking less about fireworks and more about the generations of people who made yesterday possible.
When I first started tracing my family tree, I thought I was looking for names. Instead, I found stories.
I discovered that one branch of my maternal grandmother’s family settled in the colonies long before there was a United States. My sixth great-grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War. As I dug deeper, I found newspaper clippings about Captain David Fleming of Point Pleasant, New Jersey, my great-great-great-grandfather. His obituary described him as one of the first volunteer lifesavers along the Jersey Shore, helping establish what would eventually become the U.S. Life-Saving Service before it became the Coast Guard. It mentioned that he was related to George Washington, but that wasn’t what struck me. What struck me was that he spent his life serving others.
The deeper I went, the more I realized that wasn’t the only story my family had to tell.
My maternal grandfather was born in Ireland. My great-grandmother was born in Italy before her family came through Boston. My grandfather’s name is now on the wall at Ellis Island, joining millions of others who left everything familiar behind for the chance to become Americans.
Some branches of my family have roots that stretch back to the earliest days of this country. Others arrived much later with little more than hope. For a while I thought those were two separate stories. Now I understand they’re really one.
That’s America.
We spend a lot of time today wondering whether our country has ever been this divided, this uncertain or this challenged. Then I remember that every generation before us probably asked the same question. They lived through revolutions, civil war, economic collapse, waves of immigration, political realignment and extraordinary change. They didn’t know how their stories would end. They simply kept building, serving, raising families and believing in this country.
Genealogy has given me perspective.
Two hundred fifty years suddenly doesn’t feel very long. It’s only a handful of generations. Long enough to appreciate the sacrifices that came before us, but short enough to remind us that the story is still being written.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately because it also explains why I love what I do.
Whether it’s a conversation on The Friday Reporter or The Deciders, I’m always trying to understand what shaped someone’s thinking. How did they get here? What experiences changed them? What do they believe is worth fighting for? I suppose that’s the same curiosity that keeps pulling me back to old census records and faded newspaper clippings. Every person has a story. Every story fits into something larger.
As America begins its next 250 years, I feel grateful to know a little more about the people who came before me. Not because any one ancestor was extraordinary, but because together they tell a story that feels deeply American—a story of service, immigration, resilience and optimism.
Those are the things we inherit.
Those are also the things we choose to pass on.
This week we’re talking to Rep. Morgan Griffith on The Deciders. It’s a good one. Get on the list to get early access — > https://www.deciders.show/subscribe