By Michael Patrick O’Brien–
Memorial Day is almost halfway between Mother’s Day (in mid-May) and Father’s Day (in mid-June). It’s the perfect time to remember that I am a living memorial to my own parents.
The DNA test from Ancestry.com that I took a few years ago told me a lot of things. I am 99% Irish and 1% Swedish/Danish, the latter likely thanks to Viking raiders. The test results also pinpointed my genetic place of origin as southwestern Ireland.
Moreover, the test identified over 800 of my close relatives (fourth cousin or closer) scattered around the world. This extended family lives not just in the United States but also far away in Ireland as well as Australia or New Zealand.
Closer to home, these Ancestry.com tests now also tell a detailed story about my genetic relationship with my parents. They explain what specific traits, characteristics, and lifestyles I likely have and from which side of my family I got them.
It made for a fascinating and amusing read one recent afternoon. Some conclusions from the DNA analysis are spot on.
For example, thanks to my father (Kevin Peter O’Brien), I am an extrovert. I did not know him well, but I have heard he could liven up any party.
I can blame my father’s side of the family that I don’t play a musical instrument. Yet, thanks to dear old dad, I also can more easily smell how asparagus impacts my urine.
On the other hand, thanks to my mother (Kathleen Gleason O’Brien), I have attached earlobes and no unibrow. She also blessed me with a lower chance of hair loss as I age.
Mom’s genes also gave me freckles, made me more of a risk taker, and even now help me not sneeze at the sight of sunlight. Her side of the family also made me a picky eater, which certainly was more true when I was younger than it is now.
Both parents are equally responsible for my eyes being blue, instead of brown, and for my hair being brown (almost auburn), instead of blonde or black. (My present gray hair, however, comes from my kids!)
Both parents also get credit for the fact that the bitterness found in kale and Brussels sprouts does not bother me that much. This explains why I like the former in smoothies and the latter as a roasted appetizer.
Despite accurately identifying some traits and their origins, however, the DNA testing report was a bit off in a couple of areas.
For example, it says I never get hangry. Wrong. Ask my family.
The DNA results also say that I like to dance (which is true) because of my father. Although his brother and sister-in-law did run a dance school in their hometown of Burlington, Vermont for many years, no one on earth loved to dance more than my mother.
My paternal genes allegedly gave me curly hair but, based on the old photos I’ve seen so far, my mother’s family’s hair was curlier. And it was thicker too like mine, even though the DNA test posits that my maternal genes gave me thin hair.
The test results also say my mother made me a night owl (which I am) and less inclined to drink coffee. Mom, however, always went to bed pretty early and she sure did love her coffee.
Perhaps because I am a night owl, I do love naps. The DNA survey correctly predicted that I would, but also said that tendency came from my mother’s side. Mom never napped.
I am aware of the great debate about nurture v. nature, and that we are not slaves to our genetic constitutions. And clearly, my own DNA trait analysis is not perfectly accurate.
Yet, it has sparked some hope deep within me that I will leave something behind when I pass on to the great beyond.
Wouldn’t it be great if my own children or grandchildren—on a future Memorial Day, right before they nap after a vigorous dance workout—caress their attached earlobes and thank me because they can eat Brussels sprouts and detect the presence of asparagus in their urine?
Now that would be a fine legacy.
*Mike O’Brien (author website here) is a writer and attorney living in Salt Lake City, Utah. Paraclete Press published his book Monastery Mornings, about growing up with the monks at the old Trappist monastery in Huntsville, Utah, in August 2021. The League of Utah Writers chose it as the best non-fiction book of 2022.
