I added my 800th DNA match to the Jerry Ban(n)ister Family Tree yesterday. That’s 800 people that I was in NO way familiar with until just a few years ago. Now, at least I have something physical in common with my ancestors. I was reminded of this by my chiropractor who asked me just yesterday if my father had similar issues with muscle stiffness and arthritis as I do. I told him I didn’t really experience that because I was adopted and never around him. I do however know that he suffered from lymphoma that is usually identified early with a bump or lump under the skin. 

This is the only tree that I’m working with this holiday season, with now over 37,000 ancestors spread out on it’s many branches. I’ve been experiencing what I call “Ban(n)ister Butt” that happens after hours of sitting at my desk connecting genetic clues that make up my genetic family. Just after Christmas there will be a surge in DNA test results that could mean more solutions to my many puzzles. Genealogy is the only way that dead people speak and are recognized for their important roles in the Tree of Life. Each generation is approximately 25 years long. The numbers grow exponentially as you figure two children, four grandchildren, eight great-grandchildren and so on. In just ten generations, the average person accumulates over 1,000 descendants. This is how we matter!

I have one son, with three kids that will hopefully remember me some day by exploring their genetic history. It is complicated by divorce, marriage, remarriage, child birth, and  adoption, In the process loved ones are lost through death and often quickly forgotten with time. My son’s youngest daughter never met my parents or their parents let alone my birth parents and their offspring. However, these are all people that will have an influence on her life as she grows older and perhaps has kids of her own. It’s a lot to think about and there is importance in recording this family history. 

Because I was adopted, I never really paid much attention to genetics and was never able to find physical resemblance to my family members. Now, through pictures, I can finally see this relationship that most people take for granted. I look much like the birth father that I never met and through his other children see this phenomenon. It’s a connection that brings families together. People always tried to find that likeness between myself and my birth parents. Fortunately, I picked up many worthy attributes from them as they raised me, but we did not have common features, despite what others thought they saw. I was taller, more muscular, and had darker complexion  than the loving couple that raised me. My sister was also adopted so we shared little physically. We found our connection by living under the same roof. I wonder what that roof would have been like back in 1875.