My Grandparents and I, during our trip to Tennessee during the summer, stopped at an old cemetery that I soon found out held many of my family members. Unfortunately, I had no idea at all how these people were connected to me and in reality, I'm still not sure about how I'm related to them. My family is rather obscure on both sides. I have never really been proud of my heritage, partially because I didn't know much about it, and partially because I had heard mostly of a history of drinking, bigotry, and domestic abuse. My great grandfather's name, Andrew Jackson Riddle, was the only name I could find a connection with among the graves and only because I knew my great grandmother's name, which was carved in the tombstone along side his (at the time she was still alive).
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