Digging around in family history has its pitfalls. Be careful what you wish for; you might get a lot more. About me, well, I was named after an uncle, but as always, once you go down the rabbit hole, things turn strange. Family history can be a little box that contains a treasure, but not always the one you expected.
Family History
DNA testing is a big part of researching family history these days. But things come out. Items can no longer be hidden. And somber truths about ancestors are revealed. Also, you are found by relatives you never knew, and wished had never found you! That idiot tenth cousin of yours who starts emailing you from Estonia wanting to know about common ancestors. The person from Alabama asks if you’d host your 3rd cousins twice removed on their visit to the Boston area. Perhaps one should never have spit into the little vial, after all?
In my family’s case, it cleared up some mysteries by solidifying historical and genealogical research I’d already done. The Carreras family, seamen, jewelers, and merchants from Catalonia; in my specific family, that meant Girona, and the record of Louis’, Nicholas’, and Josep’s ( or Jose) stretched further back than I could research.
Twists and Turns
But most records for my mother’s little Caribbean island were destroyed in a hurricane. Birth, death, marriage, and baptismal records were scarce. Here is where things get interesting. The island tradition has it that all the Robinsons were descended from a first mate on a ship in Morgan’s privateering fleet. On the way to the sack of Panama City, they took over the island as a base. On the way home, Robinson decided to settle and raise a family there.
A little further research came up with the gem that the original colony had been founded by the second ship sent out by the same company that sent the Pilgrims to Cape Cod. But, in this case, they went way south, and those Puritans went bad, rapidly. They become the ne’er-do-wells of the Puritan faith. They actively engaged in piracy and other disreputable affairs. OK, this was not the sort of callow, everyday family I had imagined. My family under the Jolly Roger? It took some getting used to, but after a while, I found that I could slip a credible “Arghhh Matey!” into conversations, and it seemed very natural!
I advocate paying less attention to DNA and more to the dastardly deeds of our ancestors. It’s actually a hell of a lot more interesting. It’s not so much about the names, but how, in the case of my family, they were “captivating.”
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I would have taken great pride in being the descendant of pirates!
And I do!
As do I…
Why I discovered my mom’s mom’s (and my) family history is itself a story with mysterious twists and turns. It was a great adventure that turned into 3 good novels. The DNA test was a lot less interesting, but offered some confirmation. I made my family tree private on Ancestry. I don’t want to be found. 🤣
What!!!!! Why Martha You could be my 10th cousin on the overt side of the congenital diploid heterogeneous bifurcated descent tree. Wouldn’t you like to know that!!!!!??????
🤣 I already figured you’re my brother from another mother. My dad told me that the Irish came originally from Spain, so you’re probably O’Carreras.
Swiss Family … Definitely related to Martha. Any regrets? Not about being related to Martha, of course.
My mother freaked out when she found out I was looking into our family history. She never speaks of the past. I’ve learnt enough to know that she is not strong enough to re-visit the horrors. The DNA box is sitting unopened on my table looking at me.
My mother freaked out too…but I did the test anyway ,and enjoyed her squirm when I told her the results.
I can’t even imagine having a conversation with my mother about skeletons in the closet. I’ve learnt, not from her, that my mother was an at risk child. It explains a lot. It is lucky that she survived at all. Her sister didn’t.
My father took a DNA test and refused to tell anyone anything about the results or even what company he used. After his death, I harassed multiple companies to try and discover which one held his data. They are VERY stingy with information, and wouldn’t even tell me “no” they did not have it. I ended up going through the motions of proving my relationship, my right to ask for data (which was complicated because my father gave those rights in his will to my brother, who was not interested in having them, so he had to officially give that over to me), and the ones who didn’t have his stuff never responded. But ONE of them gave me access. Viola! There were no giant secrets, but there was a drop of indigenous blood that makes me grateful, since my version of blood is so diluted there is no link at all to my Native people through DNA. Thank goodness my tribe doesn’t care about DNA for membership. Anyway, people who want to hide their blood lines or family stories from their children baffle me. I am not judging, I just want to know!
One of the things I discovered was an absolutely unexpected, significant amount of indigenous background, but otherwise pretty much what you’d expect for a “heinz 59” sort of family from every corner of the earth. She never did explain what it was she was worried about.