No Culture

I have long struggled with a desire to have a cultural heritage. I am tangentially envious of people who have a distinct culture in which they grew up. When I was in high school in NM I would visit friends whose families had strong inter generational connections. Grandparents and parents were all linked and shared stories and traditions. Of course many of my friends were, at the time, frustrated or embarrassed by their families...teens am I right?

Later in life I gained exposure to more people from a variety of cultures from the Nepalese family across the hall in Denver, to the ranch family in Wyoming. All of these people have rituals and shared histories that they received from their  elders and are passing along to their children. I love that these histories and traditions are ever changing and evolving, yet also fixed.

I yearn to feel a part of something. It has always felt a bit like I am on the outside looking in on other people’s worlds. Do you feel that way? 

I would hang on to the tiniest scraps of heritage. For instance my family is partially Norwegian. So I embraced lefse and the unique spelling of my name, but I am in no way connected to Norway and if I go there I will just be an American.

It is ok to be American, but our very nature is that we are a united mixed bag. Honestly there is nothing cohesive about being an American now.

So, I got to thinking about the origins of tradition/culture/heritage. Perhaps I am the seed taking root and not the branches of tree. It is a bit lonely, but also exciting to think that something can grow from that desire.