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I make this post to honor my father, and his father before him, and his father before him, so on to the beginning of our people. My family’s name came into being in 1764, over a decade before America first struck to be independent, though we can trace our line all the way back to the Viking era. I am the the first born son of the eighth generation first born line, which makes me something of a seventh son, when you think about it. Perhaps someday, I will help make the next generation of our family.

Asatru is the religion of kin, and we worship our ancestors. A father is someone who teaches you and loves you, and what is more deserving of honor and later worship after they have passed on and watch you from the other side?

All to often, we under appreciate our fathers. We put so much emphasis as a society on mothers, largely because for the longest time it was our mothers who we knew while our fathers were gone to work. They provided for us, were figures of order and authority, and while they sometimes could be strict, a good one always had your back.

My father is such a man. So I honor him, and give praise to him, and ask the Gods to bless a man who has no reason to help me, but does so anyways because he is a good person, and my Father.

Hail to my Father. Hail to my Fathers.