Purebred Mongrel
My recent 23andMe report tells me that I’m 96.8% Ashkenazi, that is, Eastern European Jewish. This was quite disappointing. I always thought I was—and aspired to be—some sort of exotic mongrel; I’ve long been a proponent of the virtues of hybrid vigor. But it looks like I’m actually a purebred. Well, almost. What about the remaining 3.2%, the tiny chromosomal fragments that aren’t of the breed?
Turns out that they aren’t particularly interesting: 0.9% Eastern European, 0.4% Southern European, 0.2% Iberian, 0.1% Northwestern European, and—finally something a little off the beaten tribal path—0.1% Scandinavian! How nice to know that I’m at least a slightly mixed breed. But though I’m part-Scandinavian, I have to admit it’s a tiny part: if I were to convert the 0.1% of genes into 0.1% of my body weight, I’d be about 2 ½ ounces Scandinavian. That’s less than the weight of a serving of pickled herring.
If you add up these tiny bits of identified non-Ashkenazic genes, you get 1.7%. So what about the remaining 1.5%, which is unaccounted for by 23andMe? Maybe it’s just a rounding error. Or maybe it’s the most interesting part of my genetic heritage, which will remain captive until I pay the company a ransom for its release. It could still be that I’m more exotic than it appears.
In any case, I presume that those non-Ashkenazic European gene fragments represent interlopers who slipped into my purebred lineage long ago. In fact, 23andMe specifically informs me that the 0.1% of Scandinavian genes in my possession “were contributed by a single ancestor who was 100% Scandinavian, born between 1680 and 1770.” I wonder how they know—did they find a diary? However they determined it, it seems that this 98.6% pure Ashkenazi apparently had a great-great-great-great Grandpa Thor. I suspect that Grandpa Thor was a Viking warrior King, I can sort of feel it in my blood.
Uff Da! (whatever that means)—now I know why I’ve always enjoyed taking saunas! And maybe now that I’m aware of my Scandinavian heritage, I’ll start to think that Garrison Keeler’s Norwegian bachelor farmer jokes are actually funny. Moreover, since I’m surely eligible, I think I’ll put in an application to join the Sons of Norway. Conveniently, the nearest chapter is in Poulsbo, just a few miles from where I live. Maybe I’ll even run for office in the next SoN election—the prospect of an Ashkenazic-Norwegian treasurer might be a real vote-getter. At some point, I should sign up for one of those “roots tours” to the Nordic countries to see if I can connect with my heritage, and maybe track down a landsman or two. I’m even thinking of giving lutefisk another try. How wonderfully life-changing it is to learn of this 0.1% of my gene pool!
You’re lookin’ good, Ken! Best regards, Carl
This is great! Now we need to research if we’re related somehow with my Norwegian heritage.
It is fascinating to think about those small percentages and where they came from. Apparently, I’m about 0.01% sub-Saharan African. But I guess if we all go back far enough, we’re all related! 😀 Great-great-great-great-great Grandpa Sven would be proud of you.
I had the same response as you — although I don’t have the Scandanavian–but 1% Sardinion, which is sort of exotic. But I wanted at least some African–to account for our family’s textured hair and–even though it was often blonde. And my pale pink skin that deeply suntans…. I think they are in error about our missing links….
The picture is the best sauna picture ever! Does it need servicing, though, so you can shed the extras?