Finding My Gypsy Soul

Gypsy. You've all heard the word. Some of you may even think you know a thing or two about gypsies. You probably don't. I used to think I did...until now.

I've been attempting to research my family for years. A major stumbling block was always my great-grandfather Albert. He came to the US in the late 19th century. One would think that finding a ship passenger registry with his family listed would be relatively easy in this day and age. Not so.

Here's the problem. My great-grandfather used an assumed name in the US until just prior to his marriage to my great-grandmother Lizzie Nauman. The story I was always told by my grandmother and great aunts was that just before their wedding, Albert told Lizzie he had to confess something to her. Meyer, the name he had been living under, was not his real name. His reasons for using it were never clear. He informed her that his true name was Zigan and he would understand if she didn't want to marry a Zigan.

OK, I never understood that. I don't think that my grandmother and/or her siblings understood it either. However, in doing my research, I think I've solved the mystery. In my research I kept coming upon a term: antiziganism. In short, it means anti-gypsy. The story of my great-grandfather's surname started to make sense!

Gypsies (or the Romani people) have been despised for centuries. One legend has it that they were cursed for harboring the baby Jesus. Another has it that they made the nails used to crucify him. Both can be pretty much discounted as the true Rom most likely came from India (very likely of the Jat people...traceable via a rare form of glaucoma that seems to effect only the Jat and the Rom). No...we're not Egyptian either.

The Rom are nomadic. My family has a long history of it's members being reticent to settle anywhere. Even I, having lived in my home for 22 years now...I often feel drawn to move on. The Rom have always been outcasts...outsiders...another feeling that I'm all too familiar with. Even among my peers, I always come across as the odd man out. Could this just be my natural state? If so, I'm happy to finally have a reason!

In my research, I've found that the family name, Zigan, probably comes from Hungary (who knew? I was always told I was German through and through!). Coming from Hungary, this means that we come from the Sinti people of Europe, most probably from the Estraxarja ("from Austria").

In short, to most, I am still just an American. Fat, uncouth, uncultured & classless like the rest. That said, the more I research this probably branch of the family, the more I recognize. The music feels familiar to me. My own music has often had some of the qualities of Romani music. My song "The Nightstalker" in particular has a very "gypsy" feel.  When in the UK, I spent a brief bit of time with the Travellers, who are yet another branch of the Romani tree.

The Rom live their own way. I, too, have always lived my own way. I can hear many now arguing that many do this...but in my case, it has always just been how I am. I've never felt the need to "fit in" or to conform. Perhaps this is an inborn trait I share with my distant Romani bloodlines.

You may call us what you will. Be it Zigan, Cigan, Ijito, Gitano, Cikán, Sigøjner, Zigeuner, Mustlane, Dyipsi, Mustalainen, Gitan, Xitano, Cigány, Sígauni, Gipsi, Zingaro, čigānu, čigonų, żingara, Sigøyner, Cygan, Cigano, țigan, Ciganka, Zigenare, Çingene, Sipsiwn, Sinti or "gypsy", we are who we are. Time has not erased us. No culture has erased us. Even Hitler could not erase us.

I find great comfort in finding this missing piece to my own personal puzzle. Thank you to my great-grandfather, Albert J. Zigan, for coming forward to his bride-to-be and asking her acceptance...and an even greater thank you to my great-grandmother Lizzie for accepting him. In that time, to marry a man who was for all intents and purposes, a gypsy...and outsider...took great courage...and love. Those are two traits I like to believe that I share.

I have much more research to do on this subject. Each answer I find opens up more questions. The journey for this knowledge is fascinating and self-fulfilling. I hope that each person reading this can find the same fascination with their own blood.



For anyone interested, here's a photo of my great-grandfather Albert J. Zigan (center) with his father-in-law Michael Nauman, my great-grandmother Elizabeth (Lizzie) Zigan, and one of their 13 children. It's great to finally have some history to go with these faces that I've viewed for 46 years and recognize as family!

Uneasy Times: A Possible Modern Theocracy

I've been reading about the Church of Latter Day Saints (the Mormons) lately. I'm a religious man yet as an American, I believe all are free to believe as they see fit...or believe nothing if that is their wish. I try to see the value and merit of all religions. I have a rather syncretic belief  that God taught the various cultures the same things, but in contexts that each culture could understand.

When most of us think of Mormons, we think of polygamists, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Utah, and clean cut white folks. They don't drink, smoke, or tell dirty jokes. Hell, they don't even drink coffee or tea! While many may find this odd, these (with the exception of polygamy) aren't reasons to look down one's nose at someone.

But there's more to the Mormons than meets the eye. I do not claim to be a scholar on the subject and I'll admit that there is a lot more to read on the subject...but what I have been reading strikes me as truly disturbing.

While in college, I had heard that the Mormons were more of a cult than a religion. The more I read on the subject, the more weight this claim seems to have. I've heard comedians make jokes about the Mormons (my personal favorite is "Mormons - aka Jesus: The Western").

Before I go any further, if you are a Mormon, please correct any mistakes or misconceptions I make here. I am not trying to offend anyone. That is far from my purpose. As a Christian, I have to say that I do NOT understand your religion.

The Mormons believe that their God, Elohim is a man. He comes from an even older god. They believe that Elohim has/had thousands of wives. They believe that Elohim comes from the planet/star Kolob, which is allegedly the closet star/planet to the throne of God. Kind of sounds like science fiction to me...but again, to each their own.

The Mormons believe that Jesus and Lucifer (the Devil) are brothers. According to their beliefs, when Elohim created the Earth (to be inhabited by his progeny) Lucifer and Jesus had different ideas about how it should be done. Lucifer and a third of the god people of Kolob were turned into the Devil and the demons.

Now here's where it starts to get REALLY weird. The good god people of Kolob became the white folks (Caucasians). Those that didn't bother to get involved were cursed to be black (Negros). Oddly enough...I have yet to find out where Asians fit in.  So far, it seems that the Mormons are an inherently racist group. They claim to have changed their views on this...but are very vague as to just how.

So, Elohim and one of his god people wives came to earth as Adam & Eve and started filling up the planet with people. Fast forward a few thousand years (and ignoring evolutionary theories) and Elohim returns, again as a man, and impregnates Mary so that Jesus can be born into a human body.
(yeah...I know...I'm confused too. If the man, Elohim, could create a planet through some metaphysical mumbo jumbo, then why did he need to have sex to put his son on the planet? A lot of the Mormon teachings have to do with sex. A lot! Hence...the whole "cult" status.)

Jesus allegedly had 3 wives (one who was supposedly Mary Magdalene) and a brood of kids before he was crucified. One of his descendants was Joseph Smith: the founder of the Church of Latter Days Saints - The Mormons.

When Jesus died, he magically appeared in North America...to the indigenous people (what we used to call Indians). The Mormons feel that these people are actually Israelites...which I'm sure will come as a surprise to some of my Native American friends.

The story drags on for a bit...battles with some group or other. A book of magic golden plates, containing this unique bit of pre-American history, was buried in the ground. Enter Joseph Smith.

Smith, a scryer (or psychic), says he was directed to these books, miraculously translated them to English as the Book of Mormon, and "restarted" the church...allegedly a return to the original church of Christ.

In reading up on Joseph Smith, it appears that he was very sickly and had failed at everything he had tried before...from running a business to years of crop failure as a farmer. His history strikes me as one of a man desperate to leave his mark...to be famous for SOMETHING.

Smith had his followers...otherwise you wouldn't be reading this. The history of the Mormon church is bizarre. Sometimes they're pro polygamy, sometimes they're not. Sometimes they're racist, sometimes they're not. Sometimes they believe in blood atonement (human sacrifice of sorts), sometimes they don't.

Perhaps it's this Mormon history of waffling that explains Mitt Romney. He can't seem to make up his mind on anything. The one thing he is clear about is his faith. He is a devout Mormon. He believes strongly in the church of his father and his father's father. This sounds nice...except the Mormon church of the elder Romneys is the more racist, polygamous, blood-spilling church.

Even more disturbing is that Joseph Smith tried to run for President of the United States. His goal was to turn the US into a Mormon theocracy.  Could this be Mitt Romney's goal?  It sounds feasible to me.

I would strongly suggest that every voter in the USA familiarize them self with the Mormon church. If by some miracle Mitt Romney becomes President, we're all likely to have to live under Mormon rule. And let's face it...Americans are too lazy to fight any more.

But...the Mormons have magic underwear! So at least take the time to research those!

Again...if I've offended anyone, Mormon or not...I apologize. That is not my intent. I just find the whole Mormon religion truly bizarre.

Urinal Cakes & Ice Cream

Kinda sounds like a comedy routine, doesn't it?

The young'un LOVES candy. One of her faves is Skittles. Now I'll whole-heartedly admit that I've enjoyed a Skittle or two in my day...but nowhere near as much as the young'un does. She can eat a 5 pound bag of them in one sitting. My only real problem with Skittles is their smell. I think they smell like urinal cakes.

For those unfamiliar with urinal cakes, they are the deodorizing pink 'cakes' placed in urinals in public restrooms to keep the odor to a minimum...basically because most men are too fucking lazy to flush a public toilet. The smell is somewhere between Fruity Pebbles cereal and baby aspirin. That's what Skittles smell like (to me).

It's not a particularly horrible smell...although a tad sweet smelling. The problem for me is this: when she's eating a bag of Skittles, and the smell reminds me of urinal cakes, my brain equates this with the stench of a dirty public restroom...and I want to gag. Sorry, it's just how my brain works.

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I scream! You Scream! We ALL scream for Ice Cream!!!!

Really now...who doesn't enjoy ice cream now and then? In my 46 years, I don't believe I've ever met a person who dislikes ice cream. Sure...there may be reasons one shouldn't eat it (it's full of fat and sugar)...but who doesn't enjoy it at least once in a while?

It's summer. It's hot out. Perfect weather for ice cream. My only problem with it? (and let's be honest...you KNEW there would be one) You have to eat it really fast or else it becomes a runny, drippy mess. And worse...it warms up.

It was a hot and humid day...so the young'un and I ran to the store to pick up some ice cream. I, for one, could not WAIT to get home and dish up a bowl of ice cream. Chocolate! My fave!!!!!! But...we don't have central air. Usually not a problem...but this summer has been pretty nonstop heat-wise...so it's 81 degrees in the house. Not really uncomfortable...but not ideal for enjoying a leisurely dish of ice cream.

I dolloped three delicious scoops into a bowl and the race was on! I have issues with food. I like my hot food HOT and my cold food COLD. I also have major issues with textures. (don't get me started on strawberries and kiwis...2 fruits that I WOULD love...if it weren't for their textural issues)

Trying to enjoy ice cream in an 80+ degree house is a challenge for me. Eat it too fast...BRAIN FREEZE!!!!!!! We all know what that is. You eat or drink something cold too quickly and you get a headache that has to be comparable to a major stroke or brain aneurysm . It's agony. Luckily, they don't last long.

Eat the ice cream too slowly...and for me, this is an even worse problem. The ice cream melts in the bowl and becomes a tepid mess of thick, chocolate goo. Sure...it TASTES the same...but the texture of the ice cream has changed...and I can't really eat it. It's a cold food that it no longer truly cold...and the texture is gone. Ruined. At least for me.

So I have to gobble it down...but not so fast that I get the dreaded BRAIN FREEZE. Luckily, in my 46 years on this planet...I've pretty much mastered this. Sure...my table manners deteriorate to a level that would have guaranteed me a smack in the head from my grandmother...but, to me, it's necessary.

OK...I'm sure this has been more information about my own personal quirks than you really needed to know...but you read it. And I bet you laughed. And I bet some of you are every bit as weird about food as I am!

Time to go play with the cat. Meow. (the heat is getting to me....)