mtDNA and a long line of women...

 

Yes, another post about my family tree...well, sort of. I'm combining that with a bit of geeky science stuff. (And for those who know of me deep affection for Schrodinger's Cat and Pi Day, well, this post won't surprise you. LOL)

As I plunge into my past, I can't help notice how often one of my grandmother's names is lost to history. My grandfather's name is there...in a census, on a property deed or in a will. His wife's name? It's a bit more hit or miss. She might be simply listed as Mrs. John Smith. 

It's so frustrating. I've dug through so many death certificates, looking for a maternal name.
That led me to mulling over the idea of Mitochondrial DNA or mtDNA.

I might like geeky science stuff, but I'm not a scientist, so my explanation is very layperson. You get your mitochondria from your mother. (Okay, I read a piece that some paternal mtDNA can sneak in, but let's just go with maternal.) So as I look at my family tree, at those named and unnamed women on the female branches of my tree, I realize that I share the same mitochondria as them. I'm bumping into an issue with my 3rd great-grandmother. I can't pinpoint her first name, much less her last name. She's listed in a deed transfer as John and wife.

And wife.

Now I want to be clear, I am thrilled to be Himself's wife. And I'd like to think he's thrilled to be my husband. But I've never been one to use the title Mrs. Himself. I'm mainly Ms. Holly, when I use an honorific at all. Mainly I'm just Holly or Hall. Sometimes even Hey You. 

This matter of family, or names is something I've mulled a lot in the past. I was born with one man's last name. I adopted another man's last name. I married and happily took Himself's last name. And I when I started writing, I wrote under an altogether new last name. 

Through all those names, I've been Holly. It's a name my mother gave me in hopes that it would never lead to a nickname...which of course explains they I've spent most of my life as Hall. (Poor Mom.) 

Anyway, you can trace your mtDNA all the way to Africa and see how your tribe of foremothers migrated. All my children carry my mtDNA, but only my daughters will pass it on. Their children will have it, but only a granddaughter will pass it on. I love that image of a long line of women. One after another. Mother to daughter down the line. And then, someday, when I'm gone, that mtDNA I inherited from my mother will still be out there, moving down the line. I love that piece of immortality. It makes me feel a little better about the unnamed women in my family tree...a piece of them is still here.

On a total aside, in a very geeky tangent, I was talking about the nuclear fusion experiment with the Minions today. I really am so excited about this giant step. But how to talk about fusion vs fission with kids. Hmm. My layperson explanation worked well. Imagine smashing rocks apart. Pieces would fly everywhere. The little pieces? Those are radiation and they're bad for you. But if you take a couple rocks and glue them together...there are no little bits (radiation). That idea of clean, unlimited energy is so exciting, even though it's decades away!

Yeah, I know. I romance novelist talking mtDNA and nuclear fission...just another day in my life. LOL

Holly

That idea of finding family runs through all my books, but especially in my Hometown Hearts series. You can find the whole series here, and one of them, Something Perfect, is part of a new anthology, Surprises Come in all Sizes. The whole collection is only $.99. It's a great way to try it out along with some marvelous stories by other bestselling, award winning authors! I'm so thrilled to be in an anthology with them!

Tangents

I follow Alexis Nikole on Instagram. She's a forager whose enthusiasm is contagious. (One of the Minions adores her videos. He laughs every time she ends a video by saying, "Don't die.") She mentioned a book, Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer in one of her videos. I picked it up and loved the lyrical sense of wonder about the beauty of science in nature. Today's chapter reminded me of summers in the woods when I was growing up. Eating wild strawberries, hiking the creek, hiding with a book in a small clearing I dubbed Lothlorien (I was/am a Tolkien nerd). Kimmerer's  stories of Skywoman spoke to me. "On one side of the world were people whose relationship with the living world was shaped by Skywoman, who created a garden for the well-being of all. On the other side was another woman with a garden and a tree. But for tasting its fruit, she was banished from the garden and the gates clanged shut behind her. That mother of men was made to wander in the wilderness and earn her bread by the sweat of her brow, not by filling her mouth with the sweet juicy fruits that bend the brands low. In order to eat, she was instructed to subdue the wilderness into which she was cast." 

As I read, I remembered another book that I hadn't picked up in years. Women Who Run With the Wolves—Clarissa Pinkola Estes. So I picked it up, thinking I'd read about Skywoman there. It wasn't there (or I didn't find it skimming) but I did re-find Baba Yaga's tale again and Estes' assessment, "Baba Yaga, the Wild Mother...instructs the ordering of the house of the soul. She imbues an alternate order to the ego, one where magic can happen, joy can be done, appetite is intact, things are accomplished with gusto." 

There. Magic.

A tangent led me to what I didn't even know I was looking for.

Magic has been in my mind. I caught that picture at the cottage one evening recently. Perhaps it's a fairy? It's easy to believe in fairies out there.

We spent a cold snowy night at the cottage. I got up a bit later than normal, but still was out in the woods just after sunrise, and breathed in the silence in the trees.  In the snowy morning woods, it's easy to believe in magic and in the power  to create it.

As a writer, I believe in magic because my stories start as a glimmer of an idea and a blank page and grow into something that's alive in its own right. When I read the opening of Hold Her Heart, I tear up EVERY time. It's a sequel to Carry Her Heart and I knew from the beginning how it ends. I know that even when I run my characters through the wringer, they get a happily ever after, and yet, I tear up. Because my character doesn't know it yet. And he's so very real to me. That's magic.

I started walking miles every day, not in a gym, but outside. I've found it makes me more in tune with the world around me. The rhythm of the day. The rhythm of the year. As I walk I notice grass that's almost painfully green in the spring, that fades to a duller green in the summer and finally is covered with brilliantly white snow in the winter. It's magic. The circular essence of nature echoes the circular journey of being a woman.  Skywoman who fell to earth and became an element of creation and dies giving birth (creating), Baba Yaga, who is ambiguous...sometimes portrayed as good, sometimes not so much. That duality seems truthful to me. She inspires magic.

We start out as a child who believes in magic, reach the busy years of career and family responsibilities—time when we forget magic exists—then reach a place where the world slows a bit and we can see the magic of a fairy in the woods, or the magic of watching a child we gave birth to grow into an amazing adult. We have time to notice the magic that surrounds us again. That's a gift.

And there you go. That's how my circular sense of tangents works. I start reading one book, remember something in another and pretty soon I'm surrounded by new and old books, reflecting that life is a series of tangents and if we're smart, we'll take a second to enjoy the magic in those moments!

I think I hear a Minion asking if their favorite forager has a new video! That's magic, too! 

Holly

Looking for something to read? Check out:

Surprises in All Sizes anthology.

Signs of the Times
Available for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited

Chances
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A View to a Kiln: A Harry's Pottery Mystery
Kindle
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HerStory

 

I love my little house in the big woods. (Yep, that was a shout out to one of my favorite books growing up!) I married a city boy, but I grew up in the county and missed it so much he bought me some acreage years ago. It's only a bit more than a half hour from home, which makes it easy to head out whenever I need a country fix. Since I put my pottery studio in our barn out there, I've been going out even more often.

I feel connected to that land. I have since we found it. We've spent years building/renovating our cottage out there. Thirty years after we built it, it finally got indoor plumbing. I know. I'm so fancy! We added the barn and my studio a couple years ago. Small project after small project. Then these last few big projects.

 Most of my decor is house-sale-yard-sale finds. One of my recent treasures for the cottage was a map of our township. I am not good with maps, but himself pointed our our place.  A few miles to the north was part of my family's homestead...I knew about that one. But imagine my delight as I studied the map and found another branch of my tree... a third great-grandfather. His name's on the map just a couple miles from our place. I've walked by where his house was. It's so cool finding my feeling of connection might have been my very deep roots in the area.

I've been working on my family tree for a few years. For someone who didn't have any clue on more than half of her tree for most of her life, my discoveries give me such glee. My maternal family comes from pre-revolution New England. My paternal family comes from the pre-revolution south...the Appalachian Mountains.  After years of not quite knowing where I was from, I've traced my family back to the 1700s. A few of the more famous branches, even further.

Where I come from...how I ended up here. It's a never-ending source of fascination for me. That looking for family—for where we belong—is a theme that occurs often in my books.

My whole Hometown Heart series asked that question over and over again in each book.  The first book in my Harry's Pottery series, A View to a Kiln, asks the question. Should Harry (the heroine) follow a well plotted path, or follow her passion?

I'll confess, I love Erie. I write about Erie a lot. Erie has big city amenities and a small town feel.  If you haven't checked out the first book in my Around the Square series, Signs of the Times, you'll find yourself in the heart of Erie...and hopefully the Christmasy story will touch your heart. 

I love both our town house and little house in the big woods, but truly where I belong is with my family. I was so excited that everyone was home for Thanksgiving. There are a lot of us now, so the house was packed, but the chaos was part of the fun!  Chaos and family...that does describe most of my books. LOL

And yes, all of them ask Where do I belong? in one way or another...and every person should ask that question as well. I've asked and answered it over and over...I belong wherever my family is. In the woods, in the city...where they are is my true home. My history (HerStory?!) brought me to right where I am...and where I am is pretty darn perfect.

Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season!

Holly

If you have a moment, pick out a Holly Jacobs book for your Christmas reading!