Years ago there was a popular song titled “I’m My Own Grandpa”. The words to the song follows: “Now, many many years ago When I was twenty three I was married to a widow Who was pretty as could be This widow had a grown-up daughter Who had hair of red My father fell in love with her And soon the two were wed This made my dad my son-in-law And changed my very life My daughter was my mother ‘Cause she was my father’s wife To complicate the matters Even though it brought me joy I soon became the father Of a bouncing baby boy My little baby then became A brother-in-law to dad And so became my uncle Though it made me very sad For if he was my uncle That also made him the brother Of the widow’s grown-up daughter Who, of course, was my step-mother I’m my own grandpa I’m my own grandpa It sounds funny I know But it really is so I’m my own grandpa My father’s wife then had a son That kept them on the run And he became my grandchild For he was my daughter’s son My wife is now my mother’s mother And it makes me blue Because, she is my wife She’s my grandmother too I’m my own grandpa I’m my own grandpa It sounds funny I know But it really is so I’m my own grandpa Now, if my wife is my grandmother Then, I am her grandchild And every time I think of it It nearly drives me wild For now I have become The strangest case you ever saw As the husband of my grandmother I am my own grandpa” When I think about this song, I begin to think how I was actually my parents eighth child, my aunt’s step-son and nephew, my father’s son and nephew, and in the end, I could have ended up as my own grandpa.