DNA and Me

Several years ago, fascinated by the thought that I could find out where I came from—other than tales from the unreliable family—I chose to order a test kit to determine my genetic heritage.  May I say it took me more than an hour to collect enough spit to reach the required line on the test tube.

I dutifully sent off the packet and in return received more information than I wanted or needed.  Like I’m prone to cancer.  Well, since I already indicated in the questionnaire sent to me that I once had cancer, this was a “duh” moment.

None of these little asides about everything I could be prone to answered the main question: Where did I come from?  From my father’s side, 100 percent Eastern European.  From my mother’s, what had her pre-descendants been up to?  I hesitate to guess.  But my happiest moment in perusing the report was discovering I was two percent Neanderthal.  Yes!

Flash back oh so many years when I was in college and taking a course in physical anthropology.  It was one of my favorite courses of all times.  I just ate up the adventure of it all, the romance of evolution, how we came to exist and who else existed along side and before us.  Many’s the time during semester breaks when I would return home and make my way to the American Museum of Natural History, where they had evolutionary displays of human development.

Alas, I couldn’t make physical anthropology my career, as I have no head for details. 1066, 1215, 1776, sprinkle a few more in there, yeah, I get it.  But if I’m confronted with a medical form to fill out at a doctor’s office, I have no idea how many surgeries I have had or when they occurred.  My kids?  I remember their birthdays, but they have to tell me how old they are.  Unless I have a calculator at hand.

So what did I gain from this course—aside from the few dates with the instructor after the semester was over and I ended up with a A?  I think I gained an appreciation of how varied we all are, how we have evolved or devolved over the eons of time.  (As an aside, have you ever wondered what would have happened had you chose as a life partner someone else?  I often wonder about Ted and where life with him would have led.  Ethiopia, South Africa, the Pacific?  Or nowhere at all.)

Not being of a practical nature, I find myself in awe of how our civilizations evolved.  For example, how did people learn to use fire and take up animal skins to keep warm, how did they come to farm, invent the wheel, ride a horse, domesticate animals?  What leap did their minds take to move their cultures forward to a more stable and sustainable future, aside from wars, natural disasters and pandemics?

I tried once to make an arrowhead.  Let’s leave it at that. I tried.

I’ve been fortunate to have been able to travel to many places on Earth, but I suppose my favorite place was always to be close to the cradle of civilization.  In my constant readings on the Near East, I was excited to learn that in Israel there were digs that produced evidence of a Neanderthal presence.  So there we were, my husband and I, in Hakuk, above the Sea of Galilee, my favorite place, and we decided to explore.  What should we come across but cliffs under which the Neanderthal sheltered.  Did I know at the time of my genetic heritage or did I just feel an ancestral yearning?

While my husband waited below, I climbed the steep grade toward the overhang and wandered into the recesses, imagining what life was like for our ancient relations.  I cannot tell you the thrill I felt—until I had to make my way down again.  It was so steep I decided to slide down on my fanny.  The pants were so red from the soil afterwards I can’t remember now if I ever got them clean again.

So entranced was I with what DNA could tell us that for a birthday gift, even though he expressed no desire for it, I got my husband a kit.  It was his turn to discover exactly where he came from.  He sent the kit off to please me, and it came back with the expected results.  You see, my husband’s family were Jews from Iraq who had probably lived along the Tigris since the expulsion of the Jews from Israel by Nebuchadnezzar.  Their return to Israel came as they were expelled once again.  Nebuchadnezzar’s descendants no longer wanted them.

I like the fact that my children are basically mongrels.  All these genetic strains running through them make them strong and also make them a historic record of all who have come before.  What I’m waiting for now is someone to take a DNA test and discover they are part alien.  Let the adventure begin!