The Results Are In!
As long as I can remember, there's been a myth in our family that great-grandma Missouri Belle was half Native American. My uncle and I have had many fireside chats about her and how she came to be Indian. If it was true, it happened when Missouri's mother was keeping the homestead going while her husband was off fighting the Civil War. Was it rape, as my uncle speculated, or was it an impetuous love story? My mind buzzed with ideas, and I began doing genealogical research in an attempt to find out what tribe she was descended from.
We thought we had hit upon something last summer, when we found Missouri's grave. The name on her tombstone wasn't Missouri, but Missouria. My brother did a search and discovered there was once a Missouria tribe, but they disbanded in the 1800s, as their number dwindled. Paydirt! We were elated. So much so, my brother decided to give me the gift of a DNA test for Christmas.
I got the results a few days ago, and it revealed some fascinating stuff. My family is mostly from western Europe--Germany and Switzerland, which I knew about. Following a close second was Scandinavian, which I had no idea existed in my genes. More research must be done to find out if I'm related to any Vikings. I knew about the smidge of English in my blood, but was totally unaware of the 10% Irish in me. Since one of my heroes was Irish, this makes me very proud.
But the Native American? Not a trace was found--anywhere. The DNA revealed a drop of European Jewish, but not a bit of Indian. I discussed it with the family, and we think my uncle should get tested, since he's one generation closer to Missouri Belle, so we're not giving up entirely. But to say we were disappointed would be an understatement.
Fortunately, I love to write historical romances, and the impetuous love affair between my great-great-grandmother and her Missouria Indian can still happen. Stay tuned. Someday, you'll see Susannah Myers' illicit tale come to life. That fact that it's fiction rather than real-life won't really matter.
We thought we had hit upon something last summer, when we found Missouri's grave. The name on her tombstone wasn't Missouri, but Missouria. My brother did a search and discovered there was once a Missouria tribe, but they disbanded in the 1800s, as their number dwindled. Paydirt! We were elated. So much so, my brother decided to give me the gift of a DNA test for Christmas.
I got the results a few days ago, and it revealed some fascinating stuff. My family is mostly from western Europe--Germany and Switzerland, which I knew about. Following a close second was Scandinavian, which I had no idea existed in my genes. More research must be done to find out if I'm related to any Vikings. I knew about the smidge of English in my blood, but was totally unaware of the 10% Irish in me. Since one of my heroes was Irish, this makes me very proud.
But the Native American? Not a trace was found--anywhere. The DNA revealed a drop of European Jewish, but not a bit of Indian. I discussed it with the family, and we think my uncle should get tested, since he's one generation closer to Missouri Belle, so we're not giving up entirely. But to say we were disappointed would be an understatement.
Fortunately, I love to write historical romances, and the impetuous love affair between my great-great-grandmother and her Missouria Indian can still happen. Stay tuned. Someday, you'll see Susannah Myers' illicit tale come to life. That fact that it's fiction rather than real-life won't really matter.
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