We’ve all got a little bit of ‘other’ in us
Ten years ago, when I was business editor at The Province, a company behind one of those DNA test kits sent me a sample to try. So I scraped some cells off the inside of my cheek and sent them away for analysis to be told, as I had long suspected, that basically I’m a Viking. It explains so much.
Looking back through 354 maternal mitochondrial DNA indigenous populations, the folks at FamilyVault said that the top-three ancient populations that I was most related to were in Ostergotland and Jonkoping, Varmland, and Blekinge and Kristianstad, all in Sweden.
My family has always claimed that we are Irish and Scottish, but as they say in Ostergotland, “man lär sig en ny sak varje dag.” It’s true, you do learn a new thing every day, at least if you’re paying attention.
When I revisited the company’s website last week after they sent me an email about new features, I discovered something new about my background that was even more interesting and surprising. After Sweden, the next indigenous population that I am most related to genetically was from the Pas Valley in Northern Spain. Oh Dios mio, I had no idea. It must explain my love of tapas.
But that was only the beginning of the genetic revelations. The fifth group I am most related to is — wait for it — Ukraine Ashkenazi Jews. Oy Vay! Deeper in my maternal blood line, I’m also related to Jews in Austria/Hungary and Russia.
After I married a Jewish woman, helped produce two strapping Viking-Jewish sons, and lived in the happy chaos of a semi-Jewish family life, former Province editorial cartoonist Bob Krieger used to kid me that I was Jew-ish, as in a titch Jewish. He didn’t know how right he was. So why do I report this? Well, it seemed relevant last week when I heard that the Jewish Community Centre in Vancouver had received two bomb threats, not that it should take having a bissel of Jewish ancestry to make one care about such a terrible act. Anyone with a whit of humanity would be appalled.
I have to say that I am a bit astounded that in Canada, in 2017, there are still people who would make such a threat. Just who are they upset with at the JCC?
Is it the seniors learning bridge or how to cook Italian, Indian and Mexican cuisine? Do they hate the adults taking aquafit classes or instruction on interior design? Perhaps they can’t stand the teens in the community leadership program, or folk-dancing classes?
Oh, I’ve got it! Maybe the person who made the threat loathes the little kids and babies learning about Lego Robotics or exploring music and dance in the Mommy and Me program. It takes a real man, a real tough guy, to courageously and anonymously threaten an 18-month-old rocking out to Baby Beluga.
In a March 10 note to members, Ezra Shanken, CEO of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, said that the threats to the community centre appear to be “part of a string of more than 135 such threats received by JCCs and other Jewish institutions across North America over the past couple of months.”
The federation, he said, had spent $400,000 on “security audits and equipment at 29 community institutions” to increase safety from rising anti-Semitism, known as the “longest hatred.” What a shame and how disgusting that a group of Canadians should feel threatened like this.
Getting back to my genotype, here are where my ancestors are from, even though most people consider me a boring old Scots-Irish guy: Lithuania, Macedonia, Czech Republic, France, Finland, Latvia, the Azores, Turkmenistan, Portugal, Croatia, Denmark ... man, those Vikings sure got around.
If you trace my DNA back far enough, I’m Ethiopian. I’m a mutt. We all are.
Our DNA shows how stupid is it to hate others, especially when you consider that we’ve all got a little of those so-called “others” inside us. How “other” can anyone really be?
So, Shalom, I say. But if you don’t want to be peaceful, heed this advice: If you decide to be anti-Semitic toward someone, there’s a good chance they may have a little Viking in them — or even a lot. You just might find yourself dealing with a large, pissed-off berserker.
Nobody wants that.