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Hans Spaenhauer — Description

It’s time… for Hans. Haaaaaaans. I warned y'all last week that this entry is gonna look more like a spreadsheet than a blurb, so here we go. Hans Spaenhauer was born in the Swiss village of Muttenz on August 9, 1614, the second son and fourth child of Arbogast Spaenhauer and Anna Wartmann. He married Elsbeth Süss on May 29, 1638, and the couple produced the following children: Barbara (born May 12, 1639), Elsbeth (born June 27, 1641), Agnes (born February 12, 1643), Katherina (born March 29, 1646), Ursula (born September 5, 1648, and sadly died the next day), and finally my own ancestor Wernhardt (born May 1651). He then died of unspecified causes on March 11, 1675.
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Now, see? That was boring as shit for you to read. Hell I damn near fell asleep on my own two feet cause I'm writing this on a slow day at work before the sun's even come up. This is why I always tell new genealogists that it's a hell of a lot more fulfilling to look for biographical information over just getting your tree as big as possible. I get it, I've been there, but while a bunch of dates and names are cool and all, they don't exactly tell you about these people as human beings. Sure, sometimes, like Hans, the biographical information just isn't out there, but if you have the opportunity, dig up what you can. Haul an old book out of your local library and look for any mentions of just one individual on your tree. You're bound to find something to whip out at a cocktail party eventually, and it'll be infinitely more fun than just having a barren node to look at. It makes these people feel much more like our grandfathers and grandmothers, real living people, a part of whom lives inside you which you can identify with as a person, and not just another statistic. That's all any of us can ever ask for after we're gone, is it not?
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Design notes, say here's a fun fact for y'all: did you know that my beloved home state of Indiana, my hearth and home, is on the same line of latitude as such illustrious vacation destinations as Spain, Sicily, Turkey, and the fucking Gobi Desert? In not so many words, it gets hotter than Surtr’s sweaty armpit ‘round here, and that'd be tolerable if it wasn't so damn muggy. Not only does it make living in a second floor studio apartment an inescapable hell, but the humidity has a nasty habit of ruining all my otherwise pristine paper. In most cases, it's manageable and easily hidden, but not so much when the primary color I choose is black and pencil lead turns already warped paper into a goddamn sine wave. Sure, I didn't have to make the primary color black, so that's partially on me, but I really liked the outline of these clothes and since I'm determined to keep running with the coat of arms color scheme, black was the only thing that really fit for that musketeer cape thing. In my defense, I think I was able to clean it up surprisingly well, I just wanted to vent about a struggle that comes around every summertime to fill the paragraph. Have a nice day, everyone.