DNA Results- A Royal Letdown
This year, my son gave me the 23 and me DNA kit for Christmas. And it sat on my desk for months because I was like, “Do I really need to know any more than I already do?” I already know I inherited my mother’s eyes and my father’s mouth. I also know the things I DIDN’T inherit like my dad’s head for math. There were some very tense times around our kitchen table at homework time, I can tell you that. My father still doesn’t understand how it can take someone an entire night and twelve pages of notebook paper to figure out the square root of nine.
Nor did I inherit my mother’s warmth and empathy which really would have come in handy while I was raising four children. When we didn’t feel well our mother would hug us and climb up in bed next to us and maybe scratch our backs. When my kids would come to me and say, “I don’t feel good,” I would simply tell them, “Go rest,” and when they would start to climb up into my bed I would add, “In YOUR room.
What? That’s what therapy’s for.
Anyway, I kept passing by the box and then one day it hit me— My grandmother, my father’s mother was from England. It suddenly became quite obvious to me that there was a chance, a really good chance, that I was related to Princess Diana. Yes she had lush thick blonde hair and I have thin brown. Yes she was tall and stately while I slump a little and have bowed legs, yes her eyes were blue and mine are that hardly ever seen combination of green and muddy brown called hazel. I know all this, but there is a little something around the mouth, am I right? I’m sure you’ve all noticed it.
So, I filled up the vial with spit, followed the instructions and sent it in. In the weeks that followed I rewatched entire seasons of Downton Abbey and The Crown to prepare for my visit with the Queen. I was sure now that bygones are bygones, she would want to meet a relation of Diana’s however distant. She was the people’s princess after all, which makes me…an acquaintance of the people, right?
Then I thought, am I going to have to go meet her brother and everything? I totally feel for him losing his sister, it’s a horrible thing, but he does seem to be a stick in the mud. Well, I guess it won’t kill me to have a spot of tea and a crumpet with him. It may bring him some peace connecting with a family member who bears such a striking resemblance to his beloved sister.
Then I began thinking what to wear when I meet with the Queen and Prince Charles, whom by the way I have a bone to pick with. I mean we could have avoided the tragic loss of my dear…family member, if he had only said, “Mom, listen. I love Camilla, I know she looks like she’s 80, she always has and always will, but let’s be honest. I’m no Brad Pitt. So please give us your blessing.” And then Diana would probably be alive today, getting ready to retire from school teaching with a nice pension. Charles you whimp! I will try to hold it together during our meeting, but really, this is totally his fault.
I’m pretty sure I have to wear something, you know, traditional but classic. Skirts below the knee, arms covered? I think Macy’s is having a sale, but I may be safer ordering from Chadwick’s of Boston. They seem to carry a lot of plaid. Please tell me for the love of God, I don’t have to wear a hat. I wore one to the Kentucky Derby one time and ended up looking like a greyhound who had just run ten miles, when I took it off. I will have to check into that— certainly don’t want to offend.
I guess I will have to share an afternoon with Kate and the children. I will try to put a brave face on, but you know, little kids are cute if they’re yours, beyond that…blech. I’m sure they will be hanging all over me, showing me how they count and reciting nursery rhymes so after a proper amount of time, I will just say, “Okay, go see your mummy. Off you go now.”
It will probably be up to Harry to take me out on the town for a nice dinner, as Meghan will be recuperating from the birth of their son. Probably better that way, we can talk frankly about his mother, my…family member, about how special she was but don’t worry, I won’t say anything about how different he looks from the others. Certainly not my place to break that news to him, even though, you know, we are family.
Anyway, today is the day! My results are in.
Turns out I’m 85 percent Ashkenazi Jewish and six percent Italian, and the rest, “Who knows?” This of course makes me at higher than average risk for incurable diseases and also explains why I have to eat pasta whenever I see something sad, whether it be a dead bird in the road, or “Bridge Over Madison County,” for the two hundreth time.
They also sent me the names of people I may be related to. Unfortunately, none of them are Spencers, or Windsors and most of them live in Brooklyn. So, it looks as if the Diana mouth thing is just a very lucky fluke.
I’m a little disappointed, sure. I had already started paying down a credit card so that I could use it for my plane ticket. It was fun to think about it though. Ah well…So close.
At least I hadn’t purchased the special teething rattle with the sterling silver bell from Etsy that I had my eye on for the new baby, but just wondering…does anybody know what the return policy is at Chadwick’s of Boston?