I always wear a seat belt. It makes it harder for aliens to suck me out of the window of my car.
Like most genealogy fans, I’m addicted to researching my lineage and associated families. The addiction started over a half century ago and if anything has intensified every year since then.
Many other researchers from around the world with my surname have contacted me over the years hoping to find common ancestry and to share research efforts. Surprisingly, very few of the folks are related to me prior to the early 1400’s. We wish we could find a closer tie, but alas, it hasn’t happened so far.
One of my ‘cousins’ has been in contact with me on and off for many years. He hit a brick wall early in his research and hasn’t been able to topple it even with his most intense efforts. Finally hoping to find a keyhole that peers into the lineage I’ve traced, I was asked if I’d take a DNA test hoping we’d find enough of a match to at least provide some encouragement in his quest.
Unfortunately, he asked for the DNA test results of an alien.
We waited for weeks before the first set of results arrived. Opening them, I was relieved to see that the lab agreed that I was alive but was sad that there weren’t many other facts to explore. About a month later, the rest of the results arrived. My ‘cousin’ and I may be related, but if so, it is only because we both have two legs.
Intrigued with the concept of genealogical ‘research’ through DNA, I started reading about how to correctly interpret the results of DNA tests.
That may have been a bad choice on my part. Thus far, I’ve found that I have almost no DNA ties to any other human on record.
I think I’m an alien.
I was born 14 years after my next closest sibling and due to size, coloring and interests have often wondered if I was left on the back step of my parents home and they never got around to telling me.
My oldest brother took my mother to the hospital when I was born because my father wasn’t home at the moment. He and my mother told me the story many times. My mother even elaborated on the story noting that the doctor said, “It’s a Boy! He has Red Hair!”, to which my mother replied, “That’s not Red, that’s Rust!”
I’ve always enjoyed that story but now that I’ve spent so much time trying to find DNA ties to other humans, I’m more disposed to believing that I was dropped off at my parents home by aliens. I’m probably part of a major alien conspiracy that hasn’t been exposed yet.
How are you doing with the results of your DNA tests? Are you part of the alien conspiracy too or have you been able to use them to prove ties to the humans?
To the other aliens out there, I say, “Aliens Unite!” We may create a whole new area of research in the fascinating genealogical quest that humans enjoy.
I’m sure they’ll still accept us. Source documentation may be harder for us, but think of the family stories we’ll have to tell!
See you in the Family History Library or on the Mother Ship.
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