I just had the following brief exchange with my husBen:*
He had noticed the Application for Copy of Birth Record I was filling out.
Ben: Whose birth record are you ordering?
Around here, that answer is so unusual that we both burst out laughing. Then I thought about the fact that normal people would never find themselves ordering the birth records of anyone but themselves (and maybe their own children). Not Grandma, or Papa, or 2x great-uncle Edgar. When I think about the absolute treasure trove of information in the file cabinet to my left, about all of the facts and assertions and data, about real people who I'm related to, about the millions of stories that come together to become a family history, I have to be glad we're not normal people. What's interesting about only being concerned with the facts of your own life?
*He hates when I call him that. But it's so clever of me!