My paternal lineage apparently doesn’t include nearly as much Scottish as my maternal side.
I received my DNA results from the folks Mom and I sent our spit to back before Christmas.
I detailed Mom’s results a couple of columns back, sharing my delight to learn her largest chunk of “ethnicity” rooted firmly at 41% Scotland. England and Northwestern Europe logged in at 37%, Ireland at 16%. From there down it was single digits, with Sweden the highest at 4%.
I’ve long loved all things Scottish. Mom’s DNA results had me searching online for all sorts of things. I found an interesting list from Celebrity Cruises of nine “Remarkable Things Scotland is Known for” (did you know there are 109 distilleries of Scottish whisky there?).
My results knocked a bit of the wind out of my imaginary bagpipes. But not all of it.
Turns out my DNA revealed roots in Scotland at only 25%, compared to 46% England and Northwest Europe. I’m a wee bit more Irish than Mom, at 20%. Her 4% Swedish is countered in my results with 4% Norwegian. I’ve been to Sweden and Norway and did feel more akin to the folks in Norway. Headed by ship from Copenhagen to Oslo, Norway’s capital, friends and I slept on deck to make sure we didn’t miss the magnificence of making shore around sunrise. And Norway is among my favorite sections at Walt Disney World’s Epcot, second only to the American pavilion.
I had another marker that was not on Mom’s chart at all, with 3% Welsh roots.
Most surprising, and disappointing, to me: nary a drop of Native North American. I was sure there would be some Cherokee.
I’m still delighted with my results. One-fourth Scottish. I’m thinking there’s a “fifth of Scotch” joke in there somewhere, but I haven’t found it yet.
We don’t have Dad’s DNA, nor that of any of his siblings. So it’s just guessing on my part. But for my roots in Scotland to be so much less than Mom’s, I think Dad’s roots must have been more Irish, Norwegian, and English and Northwestern European.
As far as guessing, I’ve learned, again, that trying to trace your ancestors can be an endless circle. I’m still looking for leads on my maternal grandfather’s mother, who I believe to have been named Nancy Killan Bledsoe. I got excited when a recent online search showed that name and even l linked it to my grandfather.
Guess what? It lead to post by a cousin, and I think I told him that name to begin with. But I’m far from tired of searching for my roots.