It wasn't Rosebud, but it would have to do. The name Eustace was the only thing my mom remembered of her birth mother. She had been given up for adoption and knew nothing about her birth parents.
"You know, Mom, maybe you can plug that name into Ancestry.com and see what comes up? My coworker used to spend oodles of hours everyday working on her genealogical researches. It must have been fascinating to dig up stuff on the horse you were related to in the Civil War."
"What are you babbling about?"
"I'm just saying, maybe try to get some answers on that site, or use the library's genealogy department. C'mon, Mom. It'll be turnt!"
But Mom wasn't terribly interested. So, before you could say "Coral," I created an account on Ancestry and plunged in.
What did I find? Nothing at all about "Eustace," but a whole lotta stuff about my dad's side of the equation. Just what Mom would want, of course.
Firstly, I found out that my great-grandmother's father was BENJAMIN FRANKLIN THUMA. Here he is, savin' pennies like a rock star and looking like he enjoys a good laugh. Over a corpse.
"My mustache is the prototype for Mr Potato Head's!"
Then there's my grandmother's mother, a delightfully winsome lady by the name of Nevada "Sixshooter" Miller. Here she is fresh off her shift as a prison guard at Attica. Wait, didn't she star in that ponderous Western movie with Kevin Costner...?
"I. Will. Cut. You."
Lastly, we can't say we've had fun until we've made fun... of the seventies. Awkward-style! Here's my adoptive grandmother, Eunice, having a hott time with her new gentleman companion, Burton "Turnt" Bixler. You can sense the power of their rockin' from their pirate costumes.
"JUST ANOTHER JOHNSON JOINT, Y'ALL!!
Whoa, this fucking house is tilting...!!
Wait, that's just my gas..."
So what have we learned? Not much, other than that I like to use the word "turnt" in polite blogging. My ancestors are surely turnt'ing in their graves.