Our ward has been talking about family history and sharing our own conversion story or that of our ancestors. Our bishop has been telling fun stories of one of his ancestors. And he's been talking about our ward members printing off our fan chart (createfan.com) and finding out how many people in our ward have common ancestry. It sounds so awesome.
Angie and I printed out our fans and have been having fun reading names. Here's a cool line in Angie's family. Jens Ottosen, son of Otte Nielsen, son of Niels Jensen, son of Jens Vogensen. Cool, huh!
She's also related to Parley P. Pratt. There's an asterisk there so we're not sure about what that means yet. I really love the fan and how it shows nine generations. The efficiency strikes a chord in my inner mathematician.
Here's another sweet line Angie has. Christian C Christensen, son of Anthony Christensen, son of Christen Christensen, son of Christen Christensen, son of yet another Christen Christensen. Awesome, baby!
I didn't think I knew any conversion stories of my ancestors so I didn't think I could contribute to the "ancestory show and tell" minute in priesthood meeting today. But I thought of one! It's my grandpa Ragozzine. Let me tell you about it. My aunt submitted this story in the Ensign (several years ago). If I find it, I'll definitely post a link to it. I'll paraphrase the story because it's been a while since I read the details.
My grandpa Ragozzine married my grandma (she was a member of the church, he was not) and they raised a family together. I think he went to church, but not sure for how long. Anyway, the part that I remember most is that my aunt would ask him when he would get baptized and he kept putting it off for his own reasons. My aunt went on a mission and was elated to receive a letter from him (during her mission) saying he was finally ready to get baptized. So cool. What a letter to get on your mission!
I remember my grandpa Ragozzine. He was a quiet, loving man. I remember playing checkers with him when I'd go to their home in the summer. He beat me every time. He might have shown some mercy, meaning the game would be prolonged, but he always won. I think he'd play canasta with my grandma and me too, but I don't remember that happening too many times. Just the memories of losing at checkers. A lot. He always tried to find a football game on TV when I was over at their house too. He'd call me to the living room and try to find a game when it wasn't even football season. I was so naive that I thought he'd find a game on some channel anyway. Grandpas are awesome like that.
I love my grandpa and I know that I will see him again. I wonder if he gets to see glimpses of his descendants or if he has a wireless connection to the Internet and can read this blog post. Care to comment, Grandpa?
Sorry for shooting out those windows with your BB gun. I thought you said I could.
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