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Oh My! Who Knew? DNA and Urinals

Oh My! Who Knew? DNA and Urinals

Meet the tallest urinal I have ever encountered! Who knew in just a few generations it would come to this?

 

Sometimes we are faced with decisions.

Sometimes those decisions can cause us to look at ourselves and wonder why.

Why am I having to make this decision, what is it about me that I can’t change and how did I get that way?

One day while working and calling on physicians offices I found myself in a fairly new office building in Alexandria, VA.

I had to use the restroom.  There in that restroom reality hit me.  I had to make a decision.

Do I go left or do I go right?

 

Coincidentally, at the time I had been reading Angela Duckworth’s book Grit:The Power of Passion and Perseverance which I have referred to a couple of times before in my essays.  I had just finished the chapter called Grit Grows with the question “How much of our grit is in our genes?”

Our genes.

Our DNA.

DNA has become a popular subject in my house lately.  My wife and I are trying to learn more about our family histories and where we came from.

It’s fascinating.

Where did we come from…our families?

And why are we like we are?

It’s in our genes, our DNA.

But is it entirely?

Ms. Duckworth will tell us with “complete conviction that every human trait is influenced by both genes and experience.”

She explains that height is a good example and that the average height of men and women has increased dramatically over just a few generations.

But what in our experiences affected our height?

According to Ms. Duckworth; nutrition, modern medicine, clean air and water. And she points out that children who were provided an abundant amount of healthy food grew up taller than those who were undernourished.

 

My wife and I recently did the Ancestry.com DNA test to learn more about the mysteries of the heritage of each of our families.

My sister had already done this test through Ancestry.com and received her results.  I suppose I could have just looked at hers and pretty much determined from her results what mine would look like.

But then I thought about it…

My sister is so much different than the rest of us.

Maybe she was adopted?  I mean she is the oldest so how would the rest of us have known the difference?

Then I thought about it some more…

It occurred to me that both my brothers and even my sister are taller than me.  What did that mean?

Maybe I was the one who was adopted!

Or, was it my experience?

Maybe my mother was feeding my two brothers and my sister more and better food than she was feeding me.

Maybe that’s why I was getting lettuce and mayonnaise sandwiches in my lunch box at school.

 

But then my results came back and accordingly to Ancestry.com, my sister and I are undeniably siblings.  So unless we were both adopted as brother and sister, it had to mean that it was my experience and my mother underfeeding me was probably the only explanation as to why I was the shortest!

 

The results indicated that my sister Patty was 51% Scandinavian and I was 46%.  More specifically it indicated we were western Norwegian.   I always figured I was half Norwegian, both my dad’s parents are from Norway.

But the other results were a surprise.  Patty was 36% Great Britain and I was 34%.  She was 10%  Europe East and I was 10% Europe West.  Patty had trace amounts (3%) Europe East and the Iberian Peninsula and I finished out with 5% Europe East, 4% Iberian Peninsula, and 1% Finnish/North Western Russia.

What does all this mean?

I don’t know yet, but I do know that all the while growing up when I was asked what nationality I was I would say half Norwegian and half German.

Just like when I was growing up and someone would ask:

“Hey man, what’s up with your sister?”

I would say I don’t know I think she was adopted.

 

But now I know all that wasn’t true.  I am not half German and there is only a small percentage that could be German.  And I know, thanks to Ancestry.com that neither my sister nor I am adopted.  And I was just kidding about my sister and those questions from my friends and all that adopted stuff because even if she was I would still love her as much as I do now anyway since we all know adoption is a blessing.

And I don’t really think that my mother was purposely trying to starve me resulting in my comparably short stature.  Besides, I liked lettuce and mayonnaise sandwiches, it was my favorite lunch.  And even if she was trying back then,  she is certainly attempting to make up for it now.

So this DNA stuff is really fascinating.

As for Grit, I do think I got my grit partly inherited and partly from experience just as Ms. Duckworth theorized.

And, with regards to my height… it’s okay Ma, I know it’s not your fault I couldn’t reach that urinal on the right.

Musings of an Aging Nobody…I Will Praise You in the Storm

Musings of an Aging Nobody…I Will Praise You in the Storm

The final glimmers of light for 2016 over the Kent Narrows

It’s hard to believe that a whole year has gone by since I very nervously clicked the “publish” button on my newly and hastily constructed website sending my first essay “Three Score and Counting” out into cyberspace on New Year’s day 2016.  That was a big leap for me having only ever written publicly for work; or for family and friends with an annual Christmas letter.  Most of what I had written was kept for my own consumption, 30 years of words hidden away in spiral notebooks stacked where only I knew to read them.

And for me being able to share on this website fulfilled at least one of my life’s goals, to get over the fear and worry and just write, and let someone else read it, like it or not.

Now one year later, to repeat a thought from that first writing “Three Score…” I am still alive and breathing and now looking forward to another year.

And I say I am looking forward to it very sincerely, in spite of the fact that I know that this new year will have all the makings of other years gone by and will include many great moments, but since this is real life I am wise enough now to expect some moments that won’t be so celebrated.  And now on this first day of the New Year I have the opportunity to reflect a little on the roller coaster ride that was 2016.  I am sure you have your stories too.

I experienced some things I had never experienced before and some I at least hadn’t experienced in many years.  Some were painful, some were sad.  Some were life changing for me, some were life changing for others.  Some were all too familiar but not always the familiar we look for.  Some were educational, some introspective.  Some were silly and sometimes a needed diversion.  All were personal, all elicited some emotion.  Many times I laughed but more times I cried. And sometimes I laughed and I cried.  I have often said I cry when I write, and I write when I cry, because sometimes for me writing helps the healing.

There were times I was angry. There were times I was scared too.  There were times I was humbled.  But in those times wisdom is born and so there were times of enlightenment too.

And though I try to be creative with my non-fiction, this is real life, and sometimes our non-fiction gets handed to us in a way we couldn’t imagine creating.

Sadly In life we experience loss, but there is always the opportunity to honor those like my friends Lynn, Holly, and Tawanda who all lost their battles with cancer.

But some losses come harder than others.  Some are much more personal, closer to home and continue to be experienced daily.  It’s hard sometimes to keep that contained.

And in May our community’s world was rocked again with the loss of Jimmy McLaughlin, a young man and a good family friend loved by all who knew him.

In these situations the healing continues for many and for some may never end.

Nature’s cross remembering Mr. Hersch

Then in June I was reminded that there are those who don’t always share the same passion for life that most of us have.  And for those, there can be a day when their pain and anguish can take control, if only for a brief moment, and then it’s over.   On Christmas Day I re visited the sunken path where Mr. Hersch took the life of his dog and himself.  I hadn’t been out in that woods since the June evening when my neighbor and I discovered him and his companion.  Nature had appropriately fashioned a cross right in the spot where he lay.

But it wasn’t always sad and painful.

I learned that not everyone shares the same respect I have for French bread.  I learned a new word while I was sheltering in place in a massive snow storm.  I fought the garden wars in the trenches of my back yard and became “The Deer Hunter” unexpectedly and remorsefully doling out some unnecessary revenge.

I battled a great sea monster that left me bloodied and in the urgent care.  I realized growing old isn’t always pretty and I learned that climbing stairs can help generate gray matter making me smarter. I purposely climbed that stairwell to the fifth level of that Reston Hospital parking garage many times after that first struggling effort.  That is, up until August when another not so pleasant life experience occurred and the work that required me to be in that parking garage stopped.  But happily in the last week of the year I would make those five flights of stairs again, now in a new role.

And in that down time I would read Angela Duckworth’s “Grit” for a second time and totally understand her comment in the book that “teaching is the hardest job in the world” after having spent some time substituting for 4th, 5th, and 6th grade teachers.

And who could forget we had a Presidential election in 2016. In my effort to not be controversial, I tried to remain neutral in my writing, but also tried to have a little fun with it as well.

But alas, Mickey didn’t win.

 

The 20th the Bell for our 20th Christmas

In addition to recognizing that lives matter, I particularly began to recognize the priorities of family; of grandchildren, and children, our parents; and of Kim and I; and where I might need to improve.  And thankfully we had opportunities to share some meaningful time together with some short trips, a beautiful wedding, Father’s Day, and of course

Christmas.

And in the end I realized that though there were some painful and sad experiences, there was much to be thankful for as well as we celebrated the holidays.

So I am looking forward to 2017 and to new adventures and more musings in the year to come.

And referencing “Three Score…” from last New Year’s Day one more time, though my lifeline continues to be my wife, it is our spirituality that keeps us lifted.

I had storms in 2016, let’s face it, we all did.  But I remain steadfast.

And I pray for calmer waters for you and your families and for mine.

And as always, I thank you for letting me share.

Happy New Year.

Happy New Year from outside Harris’ Crab House Grasonville MD
On Delivering Happiness and Grit

On Delivering Happiness and Grit

Photo of Mr. Hirsch and his dog from the WUSA 9 post
Photo of Mr. Hirsch and his dog from the WUSA 9 post

My skin is burnt from the sun.  My lips chapped, and my mouth dry from partial dehydration.  The bruises on my thighs don’t tell the real story of the pain I am feeling in my legs and feet.  I haven’t slept in over forty hours and dizziness is now setting in making my gait unstable and I stumble at times.  The strength that I relied on the last few days is now gone and I struggle to lift the most minor objects, even the fork that is now in my right hand.  The device on my wrist reminds me of the almost 90,000 steps I have taken in the last 48 hours or so.

What happened? You ask. Did you go through some kind of survival exercise?

Nope…nothing like that.

It was the church yard sale!

My daughter Hayley gave me the book Grit, the Power of Passion and Perseverance,  by Angela Duckworth for Father’s Day.  Though I haven’t finished it yet, Ms. Duckworth defines Grit as the combination of passion and perseverance.

My church’s annual yard sale is an example of grit.

Matthew 25:40: “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

Every year on this last weekend of June, a group of very passionate people, persevere through what was a grueling month of work, escalating in the days and hours leading up to and throughout the event itself; to raise money to support missions that help “the least of these brothers and sisters.”

Tony Hsieh, in his book Delivering Happiness, says that happiness is about four things:

Perceived Control

Perceived Progress

Connectedness (number of relationships and the depth of those relationships)

And, most important, being part of something bigger than yourself

I can tell you that the folks who I worked with this last month and especially these last few days have both Grit and Happiness.

 

I finally arrived home Saturday about 7 pm after being up since Friday morning at 6 am and sat down on my deck to eat the nice dinner that Savannah had made.  My neighbor came over to ask if we also had noticed the odor, the smell of a dead animal, evident from time to time in our yards.  Since I hadn’t been home in 36 hours I hadn’t really noticed it but Kim had as well.

Our yards back up to wooded area, and we have many animals that we see in out of the trees and brush fairly routinely.

A few minutes later my neighbor came back, this time visibly a little shaken and asked me to come with him,  he thought he found something suspicious in the woods behind his house.

 

Kenneth R. Hirsch, left a home on around 4:45 p.m. Tuesday in the 1400 block of Kingstream Drive around 4:45 p.m. His dog was with him. He was reported missing to authorities on Wednesday.

Police said Hirsch “may be experiencing emotional distress and be in possession of a firearm,” police said. They warned “he should not be approached.”

This was reported in the Washington Post on Friday.

 

On Saturday evening my neighbor and I found Mr. Hirsch and his dog.

Sadly, according to the police officer I spoke with, it was presumed that Mr. Hirsch took his own life and the life of his dog.

In August of 2014 after the suicide death of Robin Williams, I was reminded in my Happier, Healthier Me blog that not everyone was happy, not everyone was healthy.

Like Robin Williams, I am guessing that Mr. Hirsch didn’t have those four components of Happiness that Tony Hseih defines for us.

Unlike the physical pain I experienced this week in my quest to pursue happiness, Mr. Hirsch’s pain was different.  And at least for a moment he couldn’t control it.

And that’s all it took.

There are many around us who don’t have perceived control; who don’t feel like they are making progress; many that don’t have lots of strong relationships or friends; and aren’t part of something bigger than themselves.

They don’t have a passion for life anymore and the strength to persevere.

We need to help these brothers and sisters too.