My heritage

It's really difficult for me talk about my heritage. My family comes from all over the world. The short list includes Swiss, English, Danish, French Canadian, and Native American ancestry. While that's not an exhaustive list, it covers the most recent branches of the family tree.

Really, there haven't been any traditions passed down that I consider of a particular culture. What I mean is, I share most traditions and holidays with most other people whose families have spent multiple generations in the United States. There's no ethnically specific food (lots of comfort food, though - goulash, etc.), no religion stemming from a particular geographic ancestry, no special Christmas ritual that's not shared by most of the citizens of this country. And I don't really mind that.

I have a very small family (me, Mom, Grandma) and I feel as if that's where my culture lies. The three of us have crafted traditions that span almost three decades. Sometimes my grandma's brother and his family show up for Christmas dinner, sometimes my grandma's friends, the Gonzaleses, come over, sometimes we visit my mom's coworkers Han and Vahn, but usually it's just the three of us, and we're pretty close.

I also feel as if part of my culture is crafted by the microcosm in which exists my skydiving family. I've spent the last six years with these people. We are together for 48 hours a week (every weekend) from April through the end of October, often with additional time during the week. Sometimes we vacation together or go to skydiving events for days to weeks at a time together. We try to gather at least once a week in the winter. We are responsible for each other's lives. Literally. We teach each other how to stay alive, we help each other inspect gear for safety, we share weddings, funerals, birthdays, engagements, injuries, babysitting duties, personal triumphs and tragedies. The circle consists of lawyers, cops, military personnel, construction workers, store owners, hospital lab technicians, factory workers, phlebotomists, teachers, nurses, hippies, entrepreneurs, you name it. The circle crosses state lines and oceans.

I know that when we talk about culture and heritage we talk about experiences and ways of believing or doing rooted in a history associated with a place. But I feel as if my history exists, in some senses, outside of place.

Sure, I've acquired the general U.S. amalgamation of seemingly heterogeneous "cultural" traits. But what comes from my small biological family - independence, confidence, lack of concern for what others think about what I do, loyalty, speaking out for/against a thing - as well as from that larger family of people I've come to be a part of - a family that gives me unending new lenses through which to view the world, that has shown me compassion, taught me hard lessons, shared its pain and happiness and love with me - are crafted traditions, deeply held values, and the roots from which I will draw a geographically mute sense of place to pass along.