A New Trick for This Old Dog

I'm either a cranky old man who wants to rant and rave before he dies, or I'm a cranky old man who wants to rant and rave before he dies and is desperately trying to cling to his youth. 

Hence this blog-thing.

Unlike my maternal great-grandmother, I've never been a journal writer. But in January 2010, I began digging into my ancestry. It didn't take long before I realized I knew nothing about these people other than dates and info - born this date, married this person, bore these children, did this job, died this date. And by the way, here's a picture of his or her tombstone. 
An entire life reduced to statistics and a rock. 
Why did my ancestors come to the United States? Why did they live where they lived? Why did they do the jobs that they did? What made them laugh, sing, dance, or cry? Who made them angry and who made them happy?
Those unanswered questions are exemplified by my paternal grandfather. He rarely talked about his past. All my father his siblings know is my grandfather's parents broke him out of a Turkish army jail and shipped him to America at the age of 16 so my grandfather would not be forced to fight against his Greek countrymen. I remember when I was 16 and I can't imagine moving to a country halfway around the world that speaks a language I don't know and survive. How did my grandfather do it? We don't know, because he didn't say. My grandfather died more than 30 years ago and now he's in the ground and under a stone. 
I don't want my great-grandchildren to think of me as dates, names and a tombstone. That's not all I am, but if I don't put my thoughts and feelings and desires and past down on paper - or a computer blog - that is what I will become. 
So lets give this a shot. Perhaps I'll learn something today and those that follow me will learn a lot in their day.