Your Ancestors’ New Year’s Resolutions vs Yours: A Hilarious Comparison

Marc McDermott
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Let’s get real.

While you’re sitting there planning your 2025 resolutions with a green smoothie in one hand and your phone showing your daily screen time report in the other, your ancestors were making their own New Year’s promises.

And trust me – they were wild.

Here’s the thing: understanding how our ancestors approached self-improvement isn’t just entertaining. It’s a masterclass in perspective.

It’s also a reminder that no matter how much you think you’re struggling with your goals, at least you’re not trying to avoid dying from something that we now cure with cherry-flavored syrup.

Ready to feel simultaneously better and worse about your “drink more water” resolution?

Let’s dive into what your great-great-grandparents might have been promising themselves – and how it stacks up against your modern goals.

“I Will Find a Suitable Marriage Partner” vs. “I Will Finally Try Dating Apps”

Your ancestor’s version: Finding a marriage partner was basically a full-time job. No swiping right. No profile pictures. No carefully curated list of favorite Netflix shows.

Just your aunt Martha’s aggressive matchmaking and town hall dances where you hoped your future spouse had all their teeth.

Your version: You’re sitting on your couch at 11 PM, questioning if the person who just super-liked you is your soulmate or a bot.

You’ve got 47 pending matches you haven’t checked because you’re too busy watching TikToks about how to seem more approachable on dating apps.

The success rate? Probably about the same. Though your ancestors didn’t have to deal with being ghosted by someone they spent three weeks texting about their favorite bread-making techniques.

Pro tip: At least your match’s profile can’t lie about their height AND their ability to provide for a family of twelve during the harsh winter months.

“I Will Learn to Preserve More Food” vs. “I Will Meal Prep”

Back then: Your ancestors were literally trying not to starve to death during winter. They’d spend entire summers canning, smoking, and salting everything they could get their hands on.

The stakes were slightly higher than your Instagram food aesthetic.

Now: You’re trying to avoid spending $15 on lunch every day and wondering if those mason jar salads on Pinterest actually work.

Spoiler: They get soggy by Wednesday, and you end up ordering DoorDash anyway.

The real kicker? Your ancestors would be horrified to learn that you’re paying extra for “artisanal preserved goods” at Whole Foods.

The same preservation techniques they used to survive are now marketing points for $12 pickles.

“I Will Learn to Read” vs. “I Will Read 52 Books This Year”

Ancestor edition: Learning to read was a life-changing skill that could literally alter your social class and economic future.

It was the difference between signing your name and marking an ‘X’ on important documents.

Modern edition: You’ve got 47 unread books on your Kindle, a Goodreads challenge that’s judging you hard, and an Audible subscription you forgot to cancel after the free trial.

You tell yourself audiobooks count as reading while secretly feeling guilty about it.

Plot twist: Your ancestors would’ve killed for audiobooks. Imagine plowing a field while listening to someone read to you.

That’s living the dream, folks.

“I Will Survive This Winter” vs. “I Will Start Hot Yoga”

Then: Literal survival against the elements. No central heating. No Uber Eats. No “cozy” Instagram filters to make the harsh reality look more aesthetic.

Now: You’re convinced that sweating in a 105-degree room while attempting to balance on one foot will somehow transform your life.

You spent $120 on a “non-slip” yoga mat and another $80 on “moisture-wicking” yoga clothes.

Your ancestors: “You pay money to… sweat… in a room… on purpose?”

“I Will Avoid Dying of Preventable Disease” vs. “I Will Get More Steps In”

Historical version: Your ancestors were out there trying not to die from things we now prevent with $10 vaccines and basic hygiene.

Their version of preventive medicine was probably wearing a garlic necklace and hoping for the best.

Current version: Your Apple Watch buzzes to remind you that you’ve been sitting for too long, and you feel personally attacked.

You’ve named your fitness tracker “Jim” because that’s the closest you’ll get to the gym this year.

Fun fact: Your ancestors regularly walked 20 miles a day just living their lives. You celebrate hitting 10,000 steps because you had to park far from the grocery store entrance.

“I Will Learn a Trade to Support My Family” vs. “I Will Finally Start That Side Hustle”

Ancestral approach: Learning a craft that would sustain generations and become your family’s identity for centuries. Blacksmith. Cooper. Baker.

These weren’t just jobs; they were legacies.

Modern approach: Debating whether to start a podcast about starting podcasts, become a content creator teaching other people how to become content creators, or sell digital planners on Etsy to people who will never use them.

Your ancestors spent years perfecting their craft. You spent three hours watching YouTube videos on “How to Make Passive Income While You Sleep” and called yourself an entrepreneur.

“I Will Maintain My Family’s Honor” vs. “I Will Work on My Personal Brand”

Then: Maintaining your family’s reputation could mean the difference between social acceptance and becoming an outcast.

One wrong move and your entire family could be gossiped about at the village well for generations.

Now: You’re worried about your Instagram aesthetic and whether your LinkedIn profile photo looks professional enough.

You spent four hours choosing a filter for your “casual” coffee shop work setup photo.

The irony? Your ancestors would be more impressed by your ability to instantly communicate with people worldwide than your carefully curated social media presence.

“I Will Perfect My Farming Techniques” vs. “I Will Start an Indoor Herb Garden”

Then: Your ancestors’ entire survival depended on their ability to coax food from the ground.

They studied weather patterns, soil conditions, and lunar cycles with the dedication of a modern-day PhD student.

Now: You killed a succulent. A succulent.

The plant that literally evolved to survive in a desert couldn’t survive your care.

But you’re convinced this time will be different with your new hydroponic smart garden that connects to your phone.

“I Will Strengthen My Community Bonds” vs. “I Will Limit My Screen Time”

Then: Building community meant actual survival. Your ancestors shared tools, helped build each other’s barns, and came together during hardships.

They knew the value of real human connection.

Now: You’ve got 1,000+ Facebook friends but haven’t spoken to your next-door neighbor since that awkward wave three months ago.

You’re trying to “be more present” while simultaneously posting Instagram stories about being more present.

The Truth About Resolution Evolution

Here’s what’s fascinating about this comparison: while the specifics have changed dramatically, the core human desires haven’t. We’re still chasing security, connection, and self-improvement. We’re just doing it with better technology and more expensive failures.

Your ancestors would probably laugh at your green smoothies and your “digital detox” plans. But they’d understand your desire to be better, do more, and leave a mark on the world.

They just did it without having to worry about their WiFi connection dropping.

As you write your resolutions for 2025, remember this: Every generation faces its own challenges. Every generation thinks they’ve got it figured out. And every generation is hilariously wrong.

The only difference? Your failures won’t likely result in starvation or social ostracism.

So maybe take that risk. Start that business. Write that book. Create that TikTok account teaching history through interpretive dance.

Your ancestors survived plagues, famines, and wars. You can survive a failed attempt at becoming a YouTube star. Though they might argue about which required more courage.

So Happy New Year, my fellow genealogy nerds. May your family tree continue to grow as wild and wonderful as those who came before you.

And may your resolutions be slightly more achievable than “survive winter without modern medicine.”

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