Having done some digging around the family tree, I'm over-the-moon thrilled to say that not only have I traced us off of North America on both sides of the family, but I traced one branch way way way back to the 1100s! Even better (and I'm not sure what it means for that time period), there was a line of Sirs Wrigbowls.A good portion of my maternal line came out of the Yorkshire area (the rest being French and Danish), with a mysterious "Scotland" thrown in for good measure. No information on WHERE, though. I rang my mom on Easter to share some of the information I'd found and she happened to be with my Gran. Gran's been scratching away at the tree for decades, but hasn't given it a go on this new-fangled internet thing. (We're talkin' old school research for her -- microfilm at the Mormon Temple kind of stuff.) She was absolutely giddy when my mom relayed information to her. I totally secured the #1 Grandchild spot. *fist pump* On my dad's side, though, I've come to a screeching halt at my great-grandfather. I've got records that show that he was born in St. Feock, Cornwall, and later living in Penzance with his mother and sister. But that's it. The only record I have of his mother has her married name, and no mention whatsoever of his father. All I have to go on now is old family rumors and logic. That's my super exciting update, though. I'm still working on cracking the rest of the tree wide open. And this weekend is the Scottish Festival at the historic farm my mom works at, and I've been promised that there will be haggis for me to try!