Recently, my wife and I had our DNA done, through Ancestry DNA. Out of curiosity really. Growing up, on my father's side, I was always told we had Native American, (or American Indian - as Russell Means preferred - or Indigenous peoples, or First Nations, if you're from Canada), ancestry. Cherokee. Which is what most people say, since most can't name but one or two tribes, or bands of those tribes. My Grandpa was born in Ada, Oklahoma, (the post forced-march home of the Chickasaw Nation).
Growing up, I held a certain pride in that ancestry, attributing my rebellious streak to the fact I had some connection with the original care-takers of this country we now call America. They resisted, so will I! And so, that mystique stuck. My father had done some research into our past, but could never find a living Native American relative to clear a murky picture.
All I can say is that when my DNA came back, I was surprised and not surprised at the same time.
I think the surprise was from the Central Asian and Spanish/Greek/Finnish mix. I knew I was Polish and Hungarian. I'm a true mutt in every sense of the word!
I'm not upset by any of it, quite the opposite. It's given me a connection to my past that I'd never had before. To my French, Greek, Finnish, Asian, Scandinavian, and other parts I never knew about. It's opened a doorway to where to look now. So, the journey will continue!
Once a Marine, Now a Psychedelic Explorer
From Machinegun Marine to Grateful Gardner
