My father was an orphan, raised by a woman in the black neighborhood where my mother grew up. The story was that my father was probably part Jewish and part black. Maybe. The Air Force treated him as white, but supposedly his mother was the daughter of the Jewish store owner and either a black or a white guy. Since she didn’t know if he was part black (he looked white), he couldn’t go to a white orphanage and she gave him to a neighborhood woman.
When I had my DNA done, it turned out that the white part of me is mostly British & Irish and French & German. The little part of my Italian great grandfather also showed up.
I feel like the guy in the commercials who thought he was German and found out he was Scottish. And, perhaps it explains why I’ve always liked bagpipes and Gaelic music.
My mother always told me we were Heinz 57 variety. So I was expecting to find everything under the sun. I always figured that made me unique, which I loved. A lot of our ancestors fought through a lot to be able to love one another. That’s a strength we can hope filters down.
My favorite ancestor was in love with his fiance in Newport RI in the 1600’s. A lawyer. Her father died, her mother remarried and they sold her to a rich man. My ancestor was incensed and kept making lawsuits to get her back. Finally he moved her in and told the town he’d stop living in sin if they’d get her divorced. The town did, they married but he didn’t forget. When her mother got into an adulterous relationship, he had her brought up on charges, he was then Newport’s DA, and she was stripped to the waist and tied to the great gun for 15 min in the center of town. Now that’s getting even!