This just in: I have royal ancestors.
Well, one at least.
Several years ago, I took a DNA test and sent it off to 23andme because I wanted to handicap my chances of developing Alzheimer’s.
My mother suffered with the disease for several years, as did her mother and at least a couple of her brothers.
It is a cruel disease and I wanted to know if it might be in my future. I think it was 2012 when I took the test and I talked it over with my brother and sister.
Neither of them wanted to know if they had a genetic tendency toward Alzheimer’s but I figured hey. Nothing is guaranteed in life, but knowing I would be likely to develop Alzheimer’s could change some decisions about planning for the future.
Things like buying a new bass boat versus putting money into an IRA, for example.
So I sent off a vial of spit and got back results three or four weeks later.
It revealed several interesting things:
- I inherited 278 genetic variations from the Neanderthals, including a likelihood of having dandruff, being more suited for sprinting as opposed to endurance running and a preference for dark chocolate over milk chocolate.
They were right on one. I don’t care for milk chocolate, but I love some dark chocolate, and the bitterer the betterer. Basically, give me cocoa straight from the can and I am happy.
But I don’t have dandruff and I was a slow sprinter. In fact, my old baseball coach is still waiting for me to finish some wind sprints from my senior year.
- I have ancestors from Africa, specifically Angola and the Congo. I thought that was pretty cool until I realized it was something like eight generations ago, which meant that one of my female ancestors probably was abused by the man who believed he owned her. I fell quiet when I realized my existence is due partly to what she endured.
- My total ancestry is 88.6 percent from Ireland and England, with a touch of French and German mixed in.
That may explain why I like potatoes and enjoy watching Border Collies.
- And the punch line: I have a reduced chance of developing Alzheimer’s, based on the markers tested by 23and me.
That cheered me, although I still fret any time I can’t remember something or get off track and forget what I was writing about or play the guitar.
These days I don’t use the 23andme web site much, but I clicked it on a whim earlier today and discovered that I am descended from an Irish king.
Yep, good old King Niall of the Nine Hostages, who ruled Ireland from 379 to 405 AD.
Legend has it that it was Niall of the Nine Hostages who, on a raid in Wales, captured a young slave and brought him to Ireland. That slave would later escape and become Ireland’s patron saint, St. Patrick.
Niall of the Nine Captives was a warlord who brought peace through strength. And he also scattered his seed often and broadly.
Today there are an estimated three million of his descendants populating Ireland and lands beyond. Three million.
So, dang. I am related to His Fruitfulness and can claim descent from the crown, but so can one in 12 Irishmen. Hardly anything unique there.
But: my extended family helped run the snakes out of the Old Sod, and that’s something.
Right?