Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love

by Dani Shapiro

I am the tenth and youngest grandchild of Beatrice Shapiro, his beautiful, gracious wife, who was admired and emulated by religious women of her generation the world over. I am the daughter of their oldest son, Paul. Everything I am, everything I know to be true, begins with these facts.

The idea is that eventually, the sense of I am will dissolve. Once we’re past all our many labels and notions of what makes us who we think we are, we will discover that there is no I—no us. This will lead us to a greater understanding of the true nature of impermanence.

It turns out that it is possible to live an entire life—even an examined life, to the degree that I had relentlessly examined mine—and still not know the truth of oneself.

All my life I had known there was a secret. What I hadn’t known: the secret was me.

The people who are with us by either happenstance or design during life-altering events become woven into the fabric of those events.

How could I talk about what was happening to me? How could I not?

In 1961 it had been only nine years since Watson and Crick had discovered DNA. The thought of a future in which it would be possible to spit into a plastic vial and discover one’s genetic heritage would have been the stuff of science fiction.

but when I awoke each morning it was to the wallop of shock and the remembering all over again as if for the first time.

You can imagine that you’re in exile. Or you can imagine that you have more than one home.”

My ancestors, scattered far and wide. There could be confusion in that—or liberation. The choice was mine.