Ancestry

Dear Dad,

When Ancestry started testing DNA to determine ancestry, both you and Mom couldn’t wait to get tested. You—more you than Mom—were excited to find out your ethnicities. Since Mom was born in Italy, with two parents also born in Italy, she was expecting her DNA to come back 97% Italian—if not more. As for you, you knew family had come to American from Germany sometime in the early part of the 20th century. But your mother was also Danish. Before DNA testing was a thing, we broke down my ethnicity to be 50% Italian, 38% German, and 12% Danish. We expected the official results to reflect what we already knew, with perhaps a few small surprises sprinkled in. After all, the borders in Europe had been porous for years. DNA had been mixing since the dawn of time. Is it realistic for anyone to think they wouldn’t have a little bit of something other floating around in the blood? 

As you know, DNA results are apparently fluid. As more people get tested and more data is added to the pool, results change. They allegedly become more exact. I don’t remember the specifics of your initial tests, and since you died, without leaving behind a password, I can no longer access your Ancestry account (or Mom’s since you managed hers as well). But I remember some things. Knowing the history of Naples, Mom thought she might have had some Jewish or North African DNA lingering somewhere. She didn’t. (She and I were both disappointed by this.) However, she did end up having trace elements of the caucuses and, I think, west Asia. The rest—and no surprise here—was Italian. Ancestry has since broke it down to Southern Italy and Northern Italy, but since I can’t access your account I can’t see her update. Anyway, your results were more interesting because they were more unexpected. Yes, there was German, mostly German, but I don’t think there was any Danish. If there was, it wasn’t anywhere near what we had always believed. The biggest shock was the Iberian Peninsula. That’s when you started to joke that your father must have been the milkman, especially since your DNA did not match your sisters. I don’t think she had any Iberian Peninsula in her at all.

Well, once you and Mom were tested, I wanted to get tested. I was curious to see what my breakdown would look like. Would I be exactly half of each of you or would there be variants. Since I was testing myself, it made sense to get G3 tested as well, especially since we only knew half of where he came from. Yes, we had the sperm donor’s profile with limited information, but certain geographic regions that he listed as having been his ethnicity were serious melting pots. We ordered kits—three, because Kati decided she wanted in on the fun too—and when they arrived we tore open the packages and spit into the vials. At the time, G3 was only about five, maybe six and he was adorable. He skewed up his eyes and rolled the spit around in his mouth, leaking it everywhere. For him, it was a very messy process.

As soon as we put the kits back in the mail we eagerly began waiting our results. Mine were definitely the most boring. I already knew what I was and no, it wasn’t exactly half of both you and Mom, but it was close enough. G3 was by far the biggest mutt in the family. He desperately wanted his DNA to be international—a little European, maybe Native American, some Asian, a touch of African. He was disappointed. He was predominantly European with a trace of African. He actually jumped up and down he was so excited by that. What I found most interesting was that his DNA showed he was linked to a French migratory group that settled first in Canada and then drifted down to Louisiana. He was part Cajun. Cool. As someone who loves history and culture, I was excited. There would be fun research to do with him regarding the French settlement of Canada and diaspora following the French and Indian War—when he got older of course.

For several years now, we check back every once in awhile to see if our ethnicities have changed, and if so, how. My cousin is active on Ancestry, piecing together our family history and tracing our roots back a couple of centuries. She pays far more attention to new DNA matches than I do. Most of the time, when I get notified of a new match, I don’t even pay much attention. Therefore, I was supremely surprised Thursday morning when I logged into gmail. Sitting in my inbox was an email telling me that someone had messaged me through the ancestry website. Odd. Very odd. Because like I said, it’s my cousin who collects and organizes matches. Not me. And as for my son’s matches, we ignore those completely out of respect for the donor’s privacy.

My curiously prompted me to open the message immediately. And sure it enough it was a DNA match not for me, but for G3. The message was from a woman who must have recently been tested and discovered that she was a close match to G3. Since the match was close—very close—and she had no idea who G3 was, she reached out to me essentially asking who I was. She was curious about this very expected turn of events. I was hesitant to respond for a variety of reasons, but in the end, I decided to respond simply with the truth. That G3 was conceived by a sperm donor. Why did I respond? Because I feared the possible drama if I didn’t. I did not want her assuming that someone had an affair, that someone had a child they didn’t know about. Yeah, sperm donor could definitely make for a lively family dinner conversation, but I didn’t think it would be as bad as a witch hunt to determine who might have cheated on whom. I didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s divorce or estrangement. 

My answer peaked her curiosity and we went back and forth a bit. I was careful only to answer direct questions and even more careful to respect the donor’s privacy. But it still made for an interesting—almost surreal—conversation.

I miss you!

PS—I am extremely proud of G3’s and I know you would be too. The essay he wrote about our road trip last summer has been published on Teen Ink’s website. You can read it here: 

https://www.teenink.com/nonfiction/personal_experience/article/1159953/Summer-Vacation

PPS—You will be happy to know that G3 is one of the youngest scouts in his Boy Scout Troop to get a leadership position for next year. He is super excited to be the Troop Outdoor Ethics Guide. Oh how I wish you were here. You would have loved hearing the excitement in his voice as he talked about the position. He really wants to be in the venture crew next year and he has been working really hard to get there. Hopefully, he’ll get the merit badges he needs for it at summer camp.