Our DNA story has been developing since the beginning of time. While environmental conditions played a part in who we are today, the human race is one race, and we are all connected to one another. Sometimes we discover new truths about our origins, different from what we expected through no fault of our own. On March 3, 2019, my life changed forever.
My mother adopted me from birth, which makes this recent event in my life even more dynamic. Before her annual Christmas trip to Oregon, prior to COVID, she handed me a small attractive foiled box. Inside was an envelope and instructions for submitting an Ancestry DNA® test. I was confused, because when I had hired a private investigator 27 years earlier to locate my biological records, it caused a temporary rift in my own family when I found my biological mother. So, why would my mom give this to me?
Upon her return from the northwest in early January, she inquired about my DNA test. I reluctantly admitted that I had done nothing. Earlier DNA collection protocols required that you pinch or swab a sample of squamous cells from your cheek for submission. Now just a dose of saliva in a small test tube was sufficient. I took the plunge by setting up an online account with basic details and a picture, and mailed my cheek cells to the lab rats in a faraway place. Little did I know how much my destiny was in their hands.
After a month I found myself getting anxious, and even thought that the process might just be a hoax, preying on people’s hopes and curiosity.
Two weeks later, on Friday evening, March 1, 2019, I started receiving email links from the Ancestry site to matching 4th – 8th cousins. I attempted to compare their physical traits and pictures with my own. It was amusing, but not wholly gratifying, as the centimorgan (cM) concentrations of matching DNA were still pretty low, at 10 – 13%. OK, that was fun! I figured that was that.
Nothing could have prepared me for Sunday evening March 3, 2019, when I melted like wax into my chair with shock and disbelief. Before my eyes were, in a semicircle each, a picture of me and a female mini-me, side by side with the caption “Highly Probable Parent/Child Match.” Nearly 4,000 cM were in alignment. I was silent at first, and kept this stellar moment all to my heart and my soul. There are no handbooks or experiences to show you how to handle a life event like this. This was a new volume in my encyclopedia of experience, and the same held true for her.
I found her business number after limited research. I called Deedee from work the following Monday with a flurry of emotions. I was thankful it was a slow morning because we talked for a solid hour. I could hardly breathe during our first anxiety-ridden conversation.
She runs a unique retail business called DressCode in Vancouver, Washington. It sells creatively-designed fun medical scrubs and associated healthcare bling to the public.
After many phone conversations, our first meeting took place in Manhattan, a long way from her residence in Vancouver. She was attending a vendor apparel event for several days. I drove from South Carolina, with a stop in DC metro to visit some old friends and share my news. Two days later, I met Deedee for a dinner cruise on the Hudson River and New York Harbor. When I left the hotel, I had to dodge whirling dervishes of arriving kooky Comic Con kids; it made the labyrinth to the harbor docks even more surreal. Just my luck! While my Uber driver zigzagged through traffic and turns, the resounding second hand of the clock ticked like a gong in my head. Anticipation was killing me, and so was every red light. I prayed this driver could get me there quickly. We turned a corner and arrived. I felt drunk. A quick “looking myself over” for any clothing flaws revealed I was good. I was 20 steps onto the pavement, eyes directed toward the boat docks, when just over my shoulder, I was startled by my daughter and her mother Donna, with her manager Melinda just behind her.
Once we hugged, I said, “I am sure glad that is over.” The suspense had been killing me. We were all relieved and had a quick Tanqueray and tonic from a tiny cabana bar stand before embarking. Many of her fellow retailers were also aboard from other parts of the country. Deedee and I were heralded and celebrated so kindly. It was a unique feeling few could know.
Of course, dinner was fabulous. I could have been served a SPAM® sandwich and been grateful. With Lady Liberty above us, seemingly granting us her approval, we gazed up at her reverently from the bow of the boat. Deedee and I spoke to each other, followed by silent moments of divinity, as we knew our lives were happily changed forever. Golden!
We disembarked about an hour later and were going to hit the town a bit, but she had to change clothes. We were already child/parenting each other. “Pops, I have to change clothes.” I replied, “You should have thought of this before we got off the boat. There are still too many people out here who would see you.”
Deedee, being the unabashed person I’ve come to know, said, “I am going between these cars. You stand there and block me.” Before I could protest she was already there, hunched down for a wardrobe change; I marched over, my back to her like a British guard manning his post, with my arms crossed and my shoulders broadened. No one knew a thing, and they wouldn’t have dared get past me anyway. Strangely, it was a bonding moment and I was all too happy to act as a sentry protecting my daughter. I joked with her that I would have been overprotective of her as a teenager; I was thankful that she was 33 years old at the time.
The next three days we metro-railed, and walked a hundred blocks, and horse-buggied around Central Park with a Russian navigator named Sergei and his horse Duke. We saw many strange people and things and historically noteworthy locales like the shrine where John Lennon died. Duke seemed to have a penchant for the ladies rather than for men. Or perhaps, it was just me. I got too close when I was taking a picture of the gals next to Duke, and he gave me a leg graze with his hoof as a spirited warning. Fortunately, there was no harm aside from a dirtied streak down the length of my pants. I realized how agile he was, to be able to strike without hurting me, and to gain immediate respect from me. It worked!
We saw and heard the usual musical serenades on the underground platforms while waiting for trains, and saw a subway rat so large it stopped us in our tracks. Once back aboveground we passed a cluster of boxes filled with oddly assorted items on the curb. The one that interested me was full of old albums. Deedee, Melinda, and I were intrigued by the selection and proceeded to rummage on the streets of Manhattan. We snickered and giggled the entire time. We didn’t want any trouble here as strangers. We surmised someone had passed and these items were just thrown out. How could this be? One was a classical record stamped USSR, and another a compilation of Charlie Chaplin soundtracks that were certainly old, with a faint signature on the cover and a booklet of film pictures. We packed as many records as we could effectively carry for the march back. All were in perfect condition and we played them together months later.
We were famished and made a beeline to Eataly Flatiron, a massive conglomeration of small specialty restaurants and retail grub stuff — a foodie’s paradise. Rhode Island oysters, fresh spring pea creamed soup served cold like gazpacho, butternut squash pasta, steamed mussels in roux with crostinis to delight the palate, and rounded out with a fabulous bloody Chianti, sans the fava beans — that was all the richness we could handle.
The we trudged back to the hotel with more assorted stinky cheese, pâté and crackers, and high-gravity barley concoctions. It is important to note that my daughter is a craft beer, red wine, and foodie nut, and an entrepreneur just like her old man. DNA does sometimes endure over environmental exposure. Our second day together proved that notion.
We stayed in the room that night exchanging our life’s experiences — tears fell at times. The sheer joyous enlightenment and elation of a new future for both us together filled our hearts. But time is fleeting, and the regret that much of it passed without knowing each other existed, well, it cuts to the bone. You shake it off and praise the powers that made you — there is still time ahead.
And there were more adventures that summer when I flew into Portland, Oregon, and hopped over the Columbia River Bridge to meet my grandson Coen. Oh yes, this gift keeps on giving abundantly. From Deedee’s residence you can see the planes across the river take flight and land. It had been over 13 years since I had traveled to the northwest. The Columbia River Gorge, Mount Hood, the Oregon coast, and camping under the stars — there were numerous breweries to quench our thirst and seafood around every corner. For nearly three weeks we were carefree, taking in as much as our minds and bodies could handle. Laughter was omnipresent and utter fulfillment dominated.
I was heavyhearted upon my return back east, but we met again for Thanksgiving in Aiken and went to Beaufort for several Lowcountry gator-filled days. She was crazy for our Carolina she-crab soup. My next trip to Oregon was canceled due to COVID — I’m still sitting on a prepaid ticket. But it’s a new year with new adventures and memories afoot.
My daughter said powerful words to me. Not the usually expected words — I love you — that matter to most. It was deeper than that. It has been deeper from the beginning of our relationship, even before we met physically. She said, “You get me.” And even gave me a pack of boxed fruit gum printed with those very words and two elephants. The simplicity of this little box and its message means as much as the larger experiences Deedee and I have had, and even more really. The other gifts we exchanged were great, but this little box, pictured here, meant the most to me, and I have kept it like a precious gem.
DNA endures in each and every one of us, linking us together in time, distance, and history. Some circumstances of this lineage are unknown to us. I am thankful every day for the science that has allowed us to come together and know we are all connected in some way — a new appreciation for me to be sure. Each of us should realize how precious our connection is to one another and how precious the importance of relations is to our fellow humanity. We grow by experience and education. Make it count and do something for the ones you love or for a complete stranger. My mama did it for me, and it has paid off in priceless treasures.
Meanwhile, I have a plane to catch!
