I am from summer swim meets with the chlorine smelling so strongly I could taste it in the air, peach orchards in the backyard, from hot dogs and macaroni and cheese for lunch, from Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes and my grandmother’s cinnamon-sugar toast for breakfast, and from canned pickled beets and homegrown tomatoes and cucumbers.
I am from heliotropic sunflowers, from dandelions pretending to be flowers, from fast-moving thunderstorms, and fields of wheat, barley, and alfalfa.
I am from family reunion amusements consisting of horseshoes and bean-bag shuffleboard. I am from bricklayers, homesteaders, from strong determined men and women who earned a living with their backs and hands, and from Letha and Ayrice, great-grandmothers, that partook in nearly a century of experiences.



I am from Semper Fidelis, civic pride, and small-town charm. I am from Girl Scouts, state fairs, carnivals, and rodeos. I am from science fairs, memorizing Bible verses, and Saturday afternoons perusing the shelves of my town’s small library.
I am from the duck-and-cover tornado drills of Kansas, the cornfields of Nebraska, the veritable seas of oil flowing beneath the red loam of the state of Oklahoma, and the family name reaching across the Atlantic into the Netherlands.
I am from the inherited prominent nasal bump of my father, the board shoulders of my grandmother, the generosity of my mother towards strangers, and the vestigial DNA remnants of numerous generations.
I am from men and women, many whose names, faces, and legacies, time has forgotten. I am from a family history of flawed and noble individuals who survived the World Wars I and II, the wars of Vietnam and Korea, the Dust Bowl, and the Depression, with determination and valor to spare.
I am from humble origins; a long saga of ordinary people living ordinary lives with extraordinary courage and determination.
And I desire to share with you about from whom I am descended.
May you enjoy reading about my varied genealogical discoveries.

Kim Westerhoff
Amateur Family Historian