Dirty old man

You don't really want to think about Trump, or Brexit, or the stock market, do you? Instead, wrap your brain around this.

There's this guy, born about 1620, almost 400 years ago!!!, named Jean Hoff. Okay, currently we have 9 Jean Hoffs in our tree, if we count Joannis (and I do). But THIS Jean. He's something worth talking about.

With his first wife, Jacqueline Kempf, Jean sired Christophe Hoff who graciously contributed his genes to me and my sisters. Jacqueline #1 died in January of 1668, and Jean wasted no time finding a replacement. With his second wife, Jacqueline Soldermann, 27, whom he married in June of 1668, Jean doubled up on my genetic material via his son Jean Hoff (1673). And then, after Jacqueline #2 died in 1675, the man married AGAIN! This time it was his new wife, Agnes Raeber, whose genes were added to the pot pourri that is my genetic footprint, courtesy of her first husband Claude Gaetschene.

Before I chat more about this stud, let me emphasize that incest isn't an issue. There are 4 generations that intervene before Jean's descendants combine to produce Jean Adam Hoff, 1725, my great-great-great-great grandfather. It was the first thing I checked. Whew!

However, there are two things here that fascinate me, besides the implication that Jean was extremely desirable in some way, shape, or form. First, I keep returning to the notion that I am here and typing on my keyboard because every single one of my ancestors lived long enough to reproduce. That idea blows me away. And Jean clearly was on a mission to ensure the reproduction of his genes through time. Jean died when he was about 84, in 1704; I haven't counted all his children, but clearly the guy was a tough old randy bird, and I'm rather pleased someone this enduring is part of my heritage.

Second, nothing quite speaks to the intimacy of life in 17th century Alsace as the discovery that the same guy shows up in your family tree three times. Mortality rates were high, and connecting with desirable partners, for either sex, was a competitive industry. In small communities, men of means, as the Hoffs were, would choose women who could reproduce. And women who had attributes suggesting fecundity would be hot tickets. I realize there are folks out there who find it cool that they have links to Cleopatra. I find it really cool that there's this guy in my history who was pretty much a rock star, reproduction-wise. Sorry, I'm shallow that way.

And I know I said two things, but I have to get a little crazy here. Can you imagine the complexity of negotiating life in the 17th century? Think about it; it's a tiny town and a significant number of the kids roaming the streets are your step-sibs. And your father is step-dad to another batch of kids. Figuring out who you can marry without commiting incest would be a complex process. And who's doing what with whom has got to be a hot topic at the market. It had to better than reality TV. Really.