2024: Y … A to Z of DNA and Me: Y (Why) Did Ancestry Miss These “DNA” Traits?

This is my 9th year of writing in the annual April A to Z… and I changed my topic a few times until settling on DNA. I’m also writing again in my 3rd year of 52 Weeks 52 Ancestors this year… so April is going to be quite tricky for me… two designated posts a week the month. In as I was going to write a few DNA posts on the 52 weeks challenge, but then decided I could spread out my writing to keep all the DNA information in one grouping on the April A to Z. I hope you find it interesting how the DNA is tested for unusual topics like bitter sensitivity or hangryness… it’s been interesting to see if I feel Ancestry has hit the mark… or missed it. If you’ve never heard of the annual A to Z, then head over HERE for more info. It’s quite interesting to write on a specific topic for the month… meeting and making new friends in visiting their blogs. It’s always a fun learning curve.

Y (Why) did Ancestry miss traits such as Humor… Peculiarities… Height… Weight… Crafts… Cooking… Military genes… Gambling and Memory traits

Humor… Have you ever heard someone say, “You inherited your mother or father’s sense of humor,” or perhaps, “Where did you get your sense of humor?” As for me, I’ve been told, “You have the Bryan bossiness!”

There’s aways family members who have outlandish humor in the way they talk… or stories they tell. My grandfather McKinley was said to have a dry sense of humor… as Mama always called it. Even from a young age he seemed to have an unusual type of humor. He and his brother Joe would stick matches in their grandfather’s (Joseph T. Sharp) shoe as he slept on the porch… light them and run like the wind. Grandpa Sharp would wake suddenly, yelling “You two are the limb cats of the devil.” Now what the heck is a limb cat… possibly an extension somehow of the devil… which seemed to fit the both of them!

I remember how granddaddy loved to tease grandmamma… but always in the nicest way, as he loved her so very much… and never refused her anything she wanted. If she dared to walk by after he struck a match… he just couldn’t resist sticking her leg with the burnt end to see her jump… while he’d chuckle. I don’t remember him ever doing it to me… only grandmamma.

When granddaddy spent time at the VA Hospital… he often teased the nurses by grabbing their legs with the hook of his cane… lucky he never broke anyone’s leg. While he saw great humor in this… them, not so much.

Maybe granddaughter Nina inherited her sense of humor from her great-great grandpa McKinley! She’s quite the teaser… and knock-knock joke teller.

Peculiarities… well who hasn’t had an aunt… uncle… or family friend that as a child you thought… were peculiar?

Aunt Lena (McKinley) was that aunt to me… and we visited her often when I was young… Mama would tell me that Aunt Lena had always been her favorite aunt as a young girl. I never understood that, as from the moment I arrived, it seemed she appeared everywhere I went. She had no children… and in as we know how children like to snoop… so did Aunt Lena… in why she followed me around so closely. She had a beautiful home filled with antiques… sitting just across from Grant Park in Atlanta. Her front room was filled with things which intrigued me… and whenever her eyes weren’t on me, I’d tip toe in to look around. It wouldn’t be long before I was discovered and told, “didn’t I tell you that you weren’t to come in here“… but I wasn’t good in listening.

I also felt Aunt Lena ate peculiar… as she never had any white sliced bread, of which I was used to… she only ate wheat bread… which we never had in our house. She only served plain food at meals… nothing special that I remember. But I did like her bathroom as she had the first claw foot bathtub, I’d ever seen… and even though it seemed so high that I could just barely get my leg over, unless on my tip toes or a stool… I loved taking a bath in her tub… always the highlight of my trip.

Mama remembers how peculiar she was about her shoes… at bedtime she’d place her shoes on the mantel over the fireplace in her room… in saying she didn’t want anyone to step on her shoes. That was one thing I never did… step on her shoes!

In all Aunt Lena’s peculiarities… she was very smart and generous. Her mother died when she was just 15… leaving her the oldest daughter to raise her six siblings. My grandfather (E.T. McKinley) was only 5 years old when his mother died, and it was said she toted him on her hip most of the day with him saying “I want a sweet pot”… meaning a sweet potato; they remained the closest through the years. She and her sister Emma, left home to work and live in Atlanta… a very different city from the small community of Powelton, Georgia. They first began working as telephone operators at Southern Bell Telephone Company… of where she worked her way up through the company to become quite successful. After her death she left a monthly stipend to each sibling monthly until they passed; the rest was split between her nieces, nephews, great nieces and nephews… which included me. She was a very caring person to her family throughout her life… even if I felt she was peculiar as a young girl.

While I thought she had peculiarities to me as a young child… she was a strong-willed woman, and nothing ever stood in her way if she wanted to do something.  On one of her yearly summer visits, she decided to cut a door into the dining room that my grandmother had wanted. When Lena set her head to doing something… there was no way it wasn’t going to get done. Once she cut the doorway, there was no turning back… as then granddaddy had no choice but to finish the job. Lena knew how to motivate him… just start the project… leaving him no choice but to make it happen! I can just imagine the muttering my grandfather did… as he finished that door frame!

I often wish I had been more than just an eight-year-old girl who saw Aunt Lena as merely that stern, intimidating figure. My mother revealed later to me that Aunt Lena had a keen interest in our McKinley family history, frequently recounting tales of the three McKinley brothers who emigrated from Ireland… one headed North, another South, and the third West. We are descendants of the one who ventured South. Although I’ve never confirmed the details, it’s possible that the brother who went West was related to President William McKinley. How I long to return to Aunt Lena’s front porch, armed with pencil and paper, ready to capture the wonderful stories she shared.

Height Traits…

Height… another trait missed by Ancestry… and why not as everyone in the family always says how you’re tall like… so and so.

I remember as a child always hearing how I was tall like my father… but my mother wasn’t short either. In as I can remember there was no specific family member that I remember being called short. Just the other week I went to renew my driver’s license and the girl asked my height… did I suddenly look shorter than the 5ft. 6″ listed on my old license… or was she thinking that as I’m turning 72, that I must have shrunk? So, I humored her and said 5ft. 5″… as two different doctors have given me both those measurements lately. Guess they either all have different rulers or whomever measured me doesn’t know how to read a ruler!

While we as adults grow shorter… or so they say… all the granddaughters are growing by leaps and bounds. McKinley has hit a growth spurt lately… growing like a weed as Granddaddy McKinley would say. Have you ever taken notice of how the weeds grow in your yard… you can almost watch them grow right before your eyes…. especially after a good rain. She’s proud to tell me she’s 5ft. 5″ now… but she’s still a wee under me… so one of my doctors were wrong on their measurements. While she and granddaughter Ella give big hugs now… I sure do miss the little kid hugs… but I’ll still be able to get them for a little longer from Grace, Ana and Nina.

The “dreaded” Weight Genes…

When I went for my new license, they didn’t ask weight… glad they skipped that one, as the girls asking were skinny mini’s. In as the doctors can’t seem to measure your height correctly, wish their scales were more off… although I do seem to weigh differently in each office… and why can’t I take my shoes off?

I remember a mirror at my grandma Bryan’s house… always made me look thinner. Did she buy that specifically by chance? Lol. I should have taken that mirror when the house was sold. Too bad there wasn’t one to make you look younger… wishful thinking on my part. As a kid, 72 seemed so very far away… like an age you would never reach… and suddenly you’re there… wondering how it happened so fast!

Crafting Traits… “crafts”… a word I’m sure they never knew!

My grandma McKinley crafted but never knew the word… she crocheted, sewed, knitted, made the best homemade broom-straw brooms! Yes… there’s a specific straw for brooms. Often when we were out mama would suddenly point out “broom straw” to me, growing on the side of the road. She’d say how her mama could tie the straw so tight… never coming apart. If only I’d realized what an heirloom they were, I might have squirreled one away years ago. Imagine today if you had to go out in the field to cut specific straw to make your broom… did people shyly compare their brooms in visiting?

Two quilts Grandmamma McKinley sewed… the double wedding ring and flower garden pattern. Grandmamma sewed the double wedding ring quilt for mama when she married.

Craft genes were nothing I showed interest in as a young girl even though my grandmother crocheted and quilted… although I never saw her do so. My mother was always handy in crafts… I saw her crochet, sew… making all my clothes and even Barbie was sewn for. If an idea came into her mind… she crafted it. I never crafted anything as a young girl other than potholders on a loom… and cutting out paper dolls.

In traveling back to my 3rd great grandfather (James Clark Bryan)… they crafted for daily things needed although crafting wasn’t a word used… it was always out of necessity. His daughter spun wool to create yarn and fabric for clothing. My grandmother sewed quilts for warmth… clothes and underwear for personal use and need. She reused every piece of fabric for something… from granddaddy’s Muslim tobacco bags for quilt backing to the now famous sugar and flour fabric printed bags for dresses and the dreaded scratchy underwear; they were just considered free fabric and highly treasured. My grandparents were the “use and reuse” generation… reusing things until no more. They were also the generation of the treasured junk pile somewhere… of where you first looked in repairing. I can still picture Granddaddy McKinley’s junk pile… sitting behind his smokehouse.

Cooking… and yes, Not everyone can cook!

Just like in cooking… I’m sure most women compared their food to others… and if the husband is smart… he always tells his wife that hers is the best. Mama never forgot how good her mamas cooking was… saying she made the best biscuits… best fried chicken and definitely the best blackberry pie. I guess that’s why when Grandmama cooked Sunday dinner… everyone showed up to put their feet under her table… so to speak. On one Sunday, Mama snuck a chicken breast off the table and hid in the kitchen cupboard… just for herself. In as the children all had to sit on the back stoop while the adults ate… Mama said she was tired of having nothing left but the backs or wings and she wanted a breast that day. While she enjoyed that chicken breast… her father later waited for her by the wood pile. But she told me… “it was worth the punishment. Mama was very strong-willed as a young girl… and most her life!

In as mama never hung in the kitchen, she never learned to make biscuits like her mother. She purposedly didn’t hang in mama’s kitchen as she didn’t want any part of helping… or sweeping… or pail carrying of water; Grandmamma liked to keep buckets filled with well water on the back porch. Mama learned after marriage… with much practice… but her first ones, she said, could have won the Civil War. I always remember Mama making the best homemade biscuits… never measuring… and always making the dough directly in her flour pail… on top of all the packed down flour. That’s an art! I never hung in the kitchen either… so I never learned to make biscuits till much later… but after much practice I learned… although I never mastered the art of directly making dough directly on top of packed down flour. I need to learn that!

In as I didn’t learn to cook in Mama’s kitchen… learning also after marrying… and more so in my mother-in-law’s kitchen. I must credit her for all the Italian foods I cook today… especially the Easter specialties of Ham, Rice and Wheat pies. They were nothing I ever ate, or even heard of while living in Georgia. Hubby never lets me forget my first “sandwich” making skills when we married… as they definitely weren’t what he was used to. In as I never liked more than one or two slices of meat on my bread… he liked it piled high with lettuce, tomatoes and mayo…. definitely nothing he received when I made his first work sandwiches! Hmmm… wonder who would have influenced my DNA on sandwich making skills… probably Mama, as she ate the same way; we never ate those big Italian style sandwiches on rolls… it was always sliced bread for us.

My son dabbled in cooking much more than his sister… and still laughs about the time she said to him… “Let’s make French toast”… then came… “So how do you make it?” He went in the kitchen and made breakfast.

While I wasn’t the best in letting anyone in my kitchen when I cooked… as I couldn’t concentrate unless I was alone… I do apologize to my kids! Well anyway, Stephen learned to cook, probably more over at his grandmothers, as she was happy to let him cook, and she was always cooking something. She would suddenly decide to whip up a plate of Anginettes, Pizzelles or even a cake… whereas me… I have to be in the mood to cook!

I went to work full-time after hubby retired… so I taught him our favorite recipes and he often had dinner waiting when I came home. I did have to give him lessons on my recipe notes such as what tsp., a pinch, extr, and many other of my odd abbreviations scribbled on the recipe cards. I also had to explain grocery lists, as when I wrote pot., or swt pot… he had no clue. No, I didn’t want a cooking pot or the smoking kind… I wanted potatoes or sweet potatoes. It was quite funny when he’d call to ask me to explain what I’d written.

Steve mastering the Pizza Oven… birthday gift!

I loved coming home from work… smelling the smells before I even hit the kitchen… nothing like arriving home to already cooked food. Steve’s turned out to be quite the cook… and does most of the family cooking… whether the kids like or not! Which is how it should be!

McKinley and me making the famous family “fudge“

Even though my daughter wasn’t a cook at home… she’s become quite the accomplished cook herself… and yes, she allows her daughters in the kitchen. Both of them are interested in cooking, and McKinley is learning how to make the family “fudge” recipe… of where I learned from my mother-in-law. Grace hasn’t joined in the learning process of that as of yet, but she’s an excellent Hershey Kiss un-wrapper… one for her, one for the cookie.

McKinley baking biscuits… time to teach her my method of baking biscuits… the Southern way I learned from Mama.

Grace often helps in Mare Mare’s kitchen… helping to add the finishing touches on desserts and holiday dishes. I’m told she’s a great reorganizer for kitchen drawers… in throwing out unwanted or unneeded items… but in as I’m more a saver, I’ll pass on that help for now.

Granddaughter Ana enjoys cooking… but Nina is more the cookie taster. There’s always one who only likes to come in after the fact… and taste your products… and I think big sister Ella is probably right behind her.

Military genes… DNA or just wanting to be like Dad… or Mom as they do seem often to be passed down father to son… uncle to nephew… and now Mom to daughter or son. (My father in law – Steve Insalaco)

My 4th great grandfather, James Bryan was a Colonel in the War of 1812… also served in the Florida War. His son, my 3rd great grandfather, Berrien Clark Bryan, served in the Civil War… and then no more direct Bryan’s served until my father in WWII.

Military genes… Steve followed his dad in joining the Air Force… although first called the Army Air-Core when his father served. War (Vietnam War) was ongoing when hubby enlisted… just like when his dad joined during WWII. Hubby’s grandfather Joe Cambino joined during WWI… with his three sons joining during WWII. Funny how it’s more the boys who follow in jobs and military than the daughters.

My grandfathers were farmers as their fathers, but their sons, like many at that time, didn’t continue as farmers. Granddaddy Mckinley joined the Army during WWI, while his son was drafted in WWII… and sadly lost his life in the war. In as much as Uncle Leroy hated working on the farm and plowing in growing up… he often wrote home in how he missed it and couldn’t wait to come home and plow.

Granddaddy Paul Bryan joined, or attempted to join during WWI, but was refused due to foot issues… but his two sons followed in the military… both joining the Navy. All of my grandfather’s brothers served, one went in the Navy, while the others joined the Army. I did not follow my father in joining the military (Navy)… never gave a thought to join, but Daddy’s brother’s son followed his father in joining the Navy, and then the son’s daughter also joined the Navy… and the great granddaughter of my father’s brother joined the Navy.

Our son and daughter never gave a thought in joining the military… the draft had ended years ago in the 1970’s, but the boys are still subject to registering. I never thought about that until a card arrived after my son turned 18, informing him that he hadn’t registered for the selective service. Boy did that make me nervous when it arrived… as for a moment I thought they were drafting him! After all we’d been through the Vietnam War, I didn’t want him in the service. Hubby once felt that both men and women should go in the service… in learning to appreciate more what they have here in America and at home, but in today’s world… he’s since changed his mind on that thinking now.

Gambling traits… good or bad?

My father gambled from a young boy… it seemed the cards were in his blood, but from whom? I don’t think either of his parents gambled, but daddy often skipped school to go play poker with the men at the local mill where his father worked. He must have been quite the poker player as he often beat them… but who taught him to play; wish I’d asked him that! He gambled all his life… but I didn’t inherit that gene as I’m not easy to part with my money to gamble on anything.

His older brother didn’t seem to play cards, but he enjoyed playing pool and it’s been told that he was quite the pool shark. Another hushed story that wasn’t told. I remember my father hanging out at the pool place in town… and I was always intrigued to go in… especially in being told how I couldn’t and shouldn’t go in… Men Only! I often tried to sneak in to see what was going on but was always shooed right out.

Several of Daddy’s uncles gambled… especially while serving in the Navy/Army. I guess there wasn’t much else to do in off time. I’m sure Daddy never lost his shirt! Guess it was one of those uncles who taught him… and taught him well!

Memories… Some remember… Some don’t!

Is there a “Memory” gene?

If there is a DNA gene for memories… then I was totally left out! I have absolutely no memories of ever living in our first house… and I lived there for five years. And it’s not because it’s been a long time, as hubby remember his first home and he was there for only four years. I have no memories of any of the inside… or my room… or any toys there. I only know the outside of the house, but that’s probably because it was only two houses away from my grandparents… and drove by it all the time.

We moved to Perry from that house and lived in our first house there until I was around 12. I remember my bedroom there, but I can’t really see in my mind, as to how it was set up and what was there. Where were my Nancy Books sitting… and what titles sat on that bookshelf, I’ve only been told of? While I have some memories from there… I just don’t have the memories that hubby has of his home and early years. Why have I blocked out so much from my childhood?

Hubby remembers much of his school years… clothes worn, lunches served, games played, inside setup of all schools, teachers, subjects taken… and then there’s my memories… not much. I vaguely remember the inside of my elementary and junior high and only a few teachers, but I don’t have the detailed memories such as he does. Did I not pay close attention… or has the memories faded, but I honestly don’t feel they were ever there. I do have some memories… but I’ve always wondered if I truly remember them or only because my mother has told me over and over through the years. Mama had the memory of an elephant… but sadly her memory and mind began to fail her the last couple years of her life… something I thought I’d never see.

Mama remembers… Hubby remembers… Why don’t I?

Thanks for Reading… What’s your favorite childhood memory?

Jeanne

To read more 2024: A to Z of DNA and more, click HERE.

© 2024, copyright Jeanne Bryan Insalaco; all rights reserved

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Previous Years A to Z April Challenges…

2016: A to Z Southern Foods and Memories… they said write what you know… and being a girl born in the South… well this was what I knew.
2017: A to Z Conversations with Mama… it was a somewhat easy one for me to write as I’d journaled our conversations for years… I researched favorite topics to write.
2018: A to Z All About Nancy Drew… this one has been my favorite topic so far, and I don’t know if I’ll ever come up with another one to equal it
2019: A to Z Italian Famiglia Foods and Memories… I felt it was time to finally write the favorites of my husbands family foods.
2020: A to Z Family Stories… writing the stories of my husband’s family.
2021: A to Z of Mama in Photos... blogging on my mother through photos and memories      2022: A to Z Time Travels… Time Traveling through my blog… and more.          2023: A to Z The Best of our Journals… blogging on journals of hubby and I.