I’ve never gotten very deeply into genealogy. I like hearing family stories and I have some of the notes my mother and aunt made when they were researching family roots. It is a little bit interesting. I find old family pictures to be the most interesting part of the information they discovered. I can look at the portraits and think about the individuals pictured and imagine bits of what their lives must have been like. I know a few less stories from my father’s side of the family, but there are some fun ones, too. My father’s father was born in a soddy on a homestead before the family was able to construct a more permanent home. He grew up and lived for much of his adult years on that farm, but finally sold the farm and moved to another state. That kind of story is fairly common on my father’s side of the family. There aren’t many stories o people who lived in the same place for several generations. They kept moving on with their lives. Both of my parents knew their grandparents on both sides of their families, however, so family connections were important and they lived within reasonable proximity to their families of origin. Both families, however, have stories of family members who came to the North American continent from Europe in the days when they were cutting themselves off from the families they left behind. Both families contain stories of family members moving west across the continent in times when return trips weren’t common.

Lately I have had several conversations with friends who have decided to have genetic testing. One friend received a genetic testing kit for Christmas. Others have purchased kits from private companies that offer genetic testing to determine health risks and family ancestry. I don’t know much about the process but I believe that the process costs a hundred dollars or so and involve collecting a saliva sample and sending it to the testing service.

I also have friends who have had their DNA tested as part of treatment of a major disease. There are several diseases, including forms of cancer where treatment is customized based on the genetic characteristics of the diseased cells.

Collection of DNA evidence is routine in jails and prisons and DNA testing has been used both to convict guilty criminals and to exonerate those who were wrongly accused and, in some cases, people who were wrongly convicted and imprisoned.

There are positive reasons to engage in DNA testing and I am not opposed to it, but I haven’t felt any need to have my DNA tested at this point. I’m not sure it would make any difference for me to know what other ethnic and cultural groups were a part of my mostly English and German heritage. Both sides of my family have ancestors who moved around quite a bit and it makes sense that they would have come into contact with people with different backgrounds and I suspect that my DNA more resembles a pound mutt than a kennel club purebred. That’s OK with me.

My appearance, ethnic identity, and gender have given me a great deal of privileges in this life. I am aware that there are many people who have been the victims of discrimination and that my life has been relatively free of me being in the role of victim. So far my life has given me many breaks and opportunities and I don’t need to identify with a particular minority group. Having said that, there are a few occasions where I have declined to put down my race on questionnaires or forms. I simply leave the question blank and so far, no one has ever given me any grief over the practice. There are quite a few forms that ask the question in situations where I don’t see any need for the question to be asked. The annual report form that we clergy fill out for church records, in which we report our continuing education, experience and other job-related activities asks our race. I just don’t give an answer. I can’t see any reason why the question is being asked. And, since they never say anything to me about it when I don’t give the answer, I suspect that it doesn’t make a difference. On the other hand, it is quite possible that someone in the office sees the form and thinks, “Oh, he missed that one” and checks the box for me. My skin is pretty pale and I’ve never had people mis-identify my race.

On the other hand, a year or more ago I looked up my facebook profile and under the advertising profile read that according to some facebook algorithm I was listed as African-American. I checked with a couple of my African-American friends and they don’t think that I am African-American. I am not active on Facebook at all, though I do have a page. I understand that there is a way that you can change your ad preferences, but I have no interest in pursuing it. I’d rather ignore it. I have some friends who are on Facebook with made-up names, so I’m pretty sure that it isn’t the best source of accurate information in the first place.

So I guess that I’m genetically ignorant. I have no plan to pursue DNA testing as a recreational activity. It isn’t that I don’t waste money. I’ve spent $100 on things that I should not have in the past and I’ll probably do so in the future. But I don’t seem to see any attraction in having some laboratory including my DNA information in their database. I’ve never had a physician recommend such testing for me, so I’ll let my DNA remain a mystery along side the mystery of how Facebook determined my ad settings.

Having been raised in a family with adopted children and living in a family with adopted children, I’m convinced that there are things that are more important than genetics when it comes to family and relationships. I’m capable of deeply loving those with whom I don’t share DNA.

I’ll collect the family stories and let others keep track of the technicalities of genetic specifics.

Copyright (c) 2019 by Ted E. Huffman. I wrote this. If you would like to share it, please direct your friends to my web site. If you'd like permission to copy, please send me an email. Thanks!