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Ambrosia Salad Of Genes

Ok, it has been a month exactly since I have said anything. At least on here anyway. I am still in the process of writing about Zanzibar and while doing so, I noticed that I had a lot to say. Quite frankly between the time spent on other things and making sure I download true to my journey, I am still filling out my day one notes. Because of the length, I will break the days down into parts, for your sake and mine. In the meantime, I thought this was interesting enough to share. Some time ago, I discussed my desire to buy a DNA testing kit to find out what I was made of, after watching "Finding My Roots," talking to my family and seeing the commercials. I purchased the kit and submitted it a month ago. Recently I received my results. Before the results came in, I had talked to a few people who had taken the test and I had also talked to a few people who questioned the credibility of these things. There was no expectations on what the results would show. I followed the instructions and sent them off and that was that.

Low and behold, when I received the results, I was extremely surprised. There is quite a lot of European in there. I know from family history that this was a possibility. In the last few years, it has been discovered and discussed that there were a known, handful of European Americans within 4 generations of both my mother and father's side. I guess if you combine them together, that is where the 33% comes from. Needless to say, this only has made me want to ask more questions. Unfortunately with both of my grandmothers no longer here for me to ask, it will all be a little bit more researching and puzzle piecing for me. Now, is when I am grateful for the questions I was able to ask them both, but wish I would have considered taking this years ago. The crazy thing is that there is some Irish and only this last year, my grandfather has told a story about his mother singing Irish lullabies to him. He also told a story about a time he recalled as a child, and a white man came to their door asking for his mother. Not knowing, my grandfather assumed that he was an insurance man or bill collector. Instead this man knew his mother and he remembers the long visit with his mother and a comment being made that it was her brother, and he was in town for something else, but came by to visit while in the area. I could very easily be jumping to conclusions. Because this is a stretch, I will leave it at that, but I wonder if the Irish is from my grandfather's side. I can't see why a woman from South Carolina, living in Baltimore, would know and sing Irish lullabies. Either way, I will take these results to share with my grandfather to open the conversation again.

People of Melanesia, image courtesy of

One small thing, the less than 1% of Pacific Islander that is listed as Melanesia, is most likely where my love of the ocean comes from. After my brief research on the region of Melanesia, I am even more fascinated with the idea of knowing where I came from. And there is not one sign of Native American.

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