Phillips: Beyond the tree

There is something romantic about exploring one's genealogy, scouring newspaper clippings and immigration records for that one detail - last name, birth date, death record - that will unlock your history and reveal something grander and unique. The chance to say, "Oh, didn't you know? I'm the seventh cousin, four times removed, of e.e. cummings." Perhaps the chances of ever being invited to a family reunion are slim, but just to have the opportunity to say there's common blood is something in itself.

When I was younger and more imaginative than I am now, I remember my grandmother told me my family is descended from the Pilgrims. It was the original immigrant story - that, a little less than 400 years and many generations ago, relatives of ours set forth to establish one of the founding colonies of America. There was also a story of one ancestor who went crazy, was accused of witchcraft and was later thrown down a well. Somehow, to my precocious mind, the story of a crazed family member seemed more likely than ever being descended from the Puritans. Crazy just runs in my family.

I never really thought much of it until last year, when I began my own genealogical research. Sure enough, there it was: John Alden, born 1599, one of the original signers of the Mayflower Contract and 10th great-grandfather. Edward Winslow, 10th great-grand uncle and the Pilgrim with a surviving portrait.

Suddenly, what started as a free two-week subscription to Ancestry.com became a full-blown obsession. On more than one occasion, I was up until 4 a.m., desperately seeking another clue that would unlock my family heritage. In my overzealousness, I even traced my history back to the 13th century - back to the reign of Llewellyn the Great. Granted, about a million or so people can claim that relationship, but there was something transcendent about establishing this superfluous relationship.

Yet, in all of this, one part of my family tree was always left incomplete. No matter how hard I searched, I was never quite able to develop my mother's side. I would perpetually get as far as my grandparents and be at a loss for resources. There was no record of my great-grandfather's death, even though I know he died sometime after my brother was born. Searching Ellis Island records was nearly impossible because of the ambiguous statehood of Lebanon at the time of his immigration and the frequency of immigrants having their names changed. It was as though my mother's side of the family - the side perhaps most important to me because of my relationship with my grandmother and mother - never existed.

To this day, my mother tells me stories about our immigrant past. She talks nostalgically about her grandfather, the last person in our family to speak Arabic. She often jokes that none of us will ever die, as her own great-grandmother lived to be 103. And then she laughs at the misfortune of my paternally-inherited receding hairline compared to my own grandfather's thick Arab locks. Somehow, despite the physical proof of any sort of grand lineage, I still feel as though this side of my family tree is just as complete.

I recently gave up my obsession with genealogy. While genealogy still interests me and it will always be a great conversation tool, I have come to realize I just do not have the time to do my research any sort of justice. For the longest time, merely clicking "expand tree" was enough to whet my genealogical appetite. Perhaps that is why I was able to extend my paternal tree all the way back to pre-Norman invasion England. Yet, looking back at this process, not only was it full of inconsistencies and faulty historical data, but I was never really learning anything about the people I was connecting myself with.

As a writer, I believe I am obliged to expand the histories and lives of my characters. I am responsible for eternalizing what is bound to be forgotten - the period of a human life. And while my mother's lineage may not be substantiated through documents, there is perhaps more justice done to it because of the stories and lives that resonate in my memory.

Matthew John Phillips is a junior English major. He can be reached at mjphilli@umd.edu.