A DNA match does not necessarily mean an instant relationship, and branches of a family tree do not guarantee a strong personal connection. It’s magical though when you actually meet a stranger that was once only a square on your Ancestry chart – let alone five at one time.

I have spent hours with newspaper obituaries, Facebook, Linkedin, Find-A-Grave, and other genealogical resources trying to make sense of the Jerry Lee Banister family tree that I created. There are now over 7,800 names on that chart, with few recent personal get-together’s. The goal of this tedious work was to pinpoint DNA matches in hope of finding patterns that might lead to the identity of my biological parents – the mysterious pair that brought me life. I’m getting closer to their identity with each step I take.

Finding the birth mother required some amateur detective work and the help of some friends, as documented in previous posts on this site. Ultimately, the combination of adoption records and census reports led me to her whereabouts. She is still alive and living in Seymour, Indiana, close by her son named Jerry Lee. For some unknown reason, on my birth certificate she also named me Jerry Lee. This is perhaps an indication that she might have regretted giving me up for adoption 67 years ago. On the paperwork, she identified the father as a Marine, two years older and an athlete in high school. These were my only clues as to his identity.

In my efforts to contact both her and her son, they continue to disavow any knowledge of my existence – a dead-end that I reached nearly a year ago. In that time span, I have identified and met other DNA matches that have been high school acquaintances and close relatives to each of them. These “partners in crime” have tried to help verify my credibility in being who I say I am – the son and brother who was left in custody of the Indianapolis-based Suemma Coleman Adoption Agency for reasons still yet to be determined.

I have gone on to live an envious life without them, and grateful to the loving couple that ultimately took me into their home and gave me every opportunity in the world. However, my life is somehow not complete without solving the mystery of my conception. Unfortunately, the woman that gave birth to me does not “remember” this seemingly unforgettable detail. My initial hope was to find out from her directly who the father was and why was I no longer part of their lives? I ask these questions not out of bitterness but rather because of simple curiosity – closure on a missing piece of life’s puzzle.

It was perhaps destiny that led me to taking a DNA test at the suggestion of my boss. I have since retired, but she stirred enough of my inquisitive nature to encourage me to submit a saliva test to 23andMe. This in turn generated an inquiry by a stranger, claiming to be a distant cousin. He helped me find the birth certificate and 1940 Census report that uncovered my birth mother’s family. This was the first discovery of gold in the mines of my past. It inspired me to add the first branches of my Jerry Banister Family Tree to the Ancestry.com site. Eventually, I decided to spend another $59 to take their DNA test, as well, a fateful step that resulted in a “close family” match with a woman named Julianna. I just yesterday learned that she was only in that data-base because her son, Gabriel, gifted her the test for Mother’s Day. He happens to be my second closest DNA match.

We met for the first time yesterday after several e-mails, text messages, and a conversation this past year. Remarkably, Ancestry charts show us to be related as “half-siblings,” sharing 1719 centimorgans of DNA, well within the 1450 to 2050 range of this “close family” classification. Her son shows to be 894 centimorgans, a “first cousin.” Despite giving his mother this test as a gift, he was one of the biggest skeptics of the results, cautioning her of a potential scam on my part.

Julianna has five sisters and a brother who sadly passed away as a teenager. My wife and I met her mother, Marilyn, and four of these sisters at their home in Scipio, Indiana. Their unique residence was designed and built by her husband, who presumably would be my birth father, Cecil. It’s an octagonal cabin surrounded by a deck and acres of woods. A sign over the front door reads “Rock Bottom.” Mirrors are built-in to the deck and trees that gave him a 360-degree perspective of the creek-side property. I was about to step inside a window of what my life could have been like had the circumstances been different. However, he married Marilyn at about the same time that I was adopted. He died tragically seven years ago, so I will never get the chance to meet him.

Julianne had warned me that her mother was somewhat reluctant to welcome me into their home. Instead, she was very gracious as we presented her with flowers, but I could feel some tension. After all, no one in the family was aware of my existence until just recently, and the Ancestry DNA data did not define us as “close family” until the last couple of months. I was not even aware that Julianne was familiar with the scientific genetic measurements that were recently released. She revealed that she too believed us to be half-siblings, but we approached the subject cautiously with her mother and sisters.

The oldest sister Janet was born in 1954, and had taken a DNA test through National Geographic long before any of us. She was focused on my personal notebook of Banister family connections, and was by far the most interested in tree connections, busily adding information to her charts. Sister Nancy arrived late and left early for work responsibilities but added a lot of personality to the discussion. My head moved back and forth like watching a ping-pong match as I tried to engage with each family member. I was also looking for physical characteristics that I might have in common with each sister present. Kristi was the only one that did not make the meeting.

My wife sat closest to Nancy and the youngest sibling Polly, who was far across the room from me. I was situated directly across from Marilyn and Julianne while Janet worked with her back to us. I was most comfortable talking with Julianne and concerned about her mother’s reactions as I talked about my birth mother Edna Faye. My wife observed some tearful moments from Polly and Marilyn, while I was apparently too busy to notice, selfishly answering questions from Julianne and Janet. Polly talked to my wife about seeing “dead people,” the only indication that I might have had some resemblance to her late father and brother. With her dark curly hair, she shared this feature with me (though now gray), while the other women wore lighter, straighter styles. Janet was the only one who wore glasses like me.

Mother Marilyn quietly talked of going to Muscatatuck High School with Cecil and Edna Faye, but never mentioned any relationship between the two. My suspected birth parents and fellow classmates were distant cousins that shared the last name of Banister, while Marilyn was from the Foist family. She was much prettier in high school than Edna Faye, but they were both petite with dark hair. Cecil was a senior with the notation of “heart breaker” under his photo. He was still breaking hearts as we talked about him as a craftsman and outdoors-man. He is badly missed by his daughters, wife, and the forest animals that roamed his property.

Cecil attended Muscatatuck for only his senior year and had his night of romance with Edna Faye long after he had graduated. Edna Faye did not return to school for her senior year, presumably because of giving birth to me at the beginning of the school year. The family sent her to Indianapolis to deliver, while Cecil and Marilyn were making plans to be married before they moved to California for his Marine training. I’m sure that neither of them were aware of my existence, as Edna Faye’s embarrassed family would have kept me a dark secret. That secret was safe until I dug up the evidence after all these years. Marilyn was obviously holding back her emotions as I suddenly stepped into her life, a reminder of perhaps some infidelity on the part of her future husband. I’m sure my presence was difficult for many reasons, if I indeed reminded her of Cecil in appearance or mannerisms. I got no indication, but I’m sincerely grateful for her willingness to sit with us and join in the picture taking.

It was an eventful evening that went by in a flash. My wife gave me her feedback on our hour-and-a-half long drive back to Indianapolis. I was emotionally drained and my throat sore from extended conversation. This morning it was hard to believe that it actually happened, as I wrote a few follow-up notes. Soon, I will have a wrap-up conversation with Julianne, but her initial reaction was that the “meeting went well” I’ll write more after we talk.