Family history is a funny thing. Everyone desires to know where they came from, who their ancestors were, and how their life came to be wherever they currently resided due to a long line of choices made by those in the past. For me, it was never like that. I had no interest in knowing who had left me and who was responsible for the sh*thole that I grew up in after I left foster care. I didn’t care about their life or story. I only cared about keeping myself sane.
But as I scrolled through the search results for Mikael Winslet, clicking on various articles, things started to make sense. Article after article outlined his past and present situation, noting his birthday, how old he was, if he had any children (shocker, none were listed) and his profession. It was like I was able to glimpse into the life of a man I didn’t know.