In the Middle of the Night, She Asked Me
I try to not disturb my wife’s sleep. Sometimes, despite my best efforts, others disturb Sugar’s rest. For example, last night our 90 lb. puppy, Gus, who just celebrated his first birthday, came up to Sugar’s side of the bed and awakened her by sniffing at her lovely face.
However, it is my job to let Gus out, as he good and well knows, so next he came to my side of the bed and softly barked. I awakened from a deep sleep, obediently sat on the side of the bed, waited for my consciousness to emerge, and started for the bedroom door in the utter darkness.
Before I got there, I stepped on Beau, one of our other Labrador Retrievers, who was sleeping soundly at the end of the bed. I tried to lift my foot from Beau, out of kindness, I suppose, sacrificing my extraordinary balance to protect Beau, and landing on my bum knee and then my extended right hand, which did not support my lithe frame, which resulted in my laying on the floor at the foot of the bed, where Gus eagerly jumped on my prone form.
“Get off me,” I said from the floor, which disturbed Sugar, who reminded me that he is just a puppy. I already knew Gus is just a puppy, yet I felt it would be easier to get up off the floor without a puppy on my chest.
Gus and I walked down the hall, across the balcony, down the steps, through the front room, and out the front door, onto the front porch, then down the steps. Gus was happy to be out at 2:00 a.m. I was hobbling on my bum knee, which was much more painful than it had been a few moments earlier.
Gus proved that it was worthwhile to go outside, as from a young age he had been taught to potty outside. See post entitled, “We slept together the very first night.”
I returned to the bedroom by the same painfully difficult route of going up two flights of steps. I stealthily slipped under the covers. Sleepy Sugar hugged me and, with genuine concern, asked, “Did he poop?”
Apparently, she felt it unnecessary to inquire about my health after my fall. That makes sense because she knows how tough I am.
D.N.A. Does Not Define Ethnicity
Elizabeth Warren proudly referred to the results of her recent D.N.A. test that revealed she had an ancestor who lived six to ten generations ago and who might have been from North America or South America or Asia and passed to Senator Warren between 1/64 to 1/1024 of her genetic make up. Consequently, she believes that proves wrong those who question her claim to be Cherokee. Those law schools who hired her and bragged of their diversity based on Senator Warren’s heritage have similarly been vindicated, I suppose, even though they did not hire her because of her Indian heritage. They just listed her as being a Native American faculty member.
Of course, the senator never met that ancestor, so sharing some genes is not the same as being family. Nor is it the same as being raised in a particular culture.
My wife, Sugar, recently did a D.N.A. test. She too expected that she might be “part-Indian.” In particular, she had heard that some relative in the 1800s was Shoshone. We still do not know whether that is true. The test is so vague that it cannot specify Shoshone. It imprecisely indicates a tiny percentage of unknown D.N.A. that could be Peruvian or Asian or Native North American. Just like Elizabeth Warren. They could be related.
Sugar found out something that disturbed her father, who is, he believed, 100% Italian. He actually knew all four of his grandparents, who were each, he believed, 100% Italian. So, one might expect that his daughter would be 50% Italian. The test results showed that she is merely 39% Italian and 11% “Iberian,” which must refer to the Iberian Peninsula, occupied by Spanish and Portuguese people. (For purposes of this post, I will not describe the other 50% attributed to Sugar’s mother except to say it did not confirm the Shoshone theory,) My point is that my father-in-law, regardless of the D.N.A. test, is indeed Italian. He was raised in an Italian family by Italian people who, by the way, were all born in America, so by definition of citizenship, were Americans who identified as Italian-Americans.
Elizabeth Warren did not, as far as I know, grow up in a Native American culture, nor is she a member of the Cherokee Nation or any other particular tribe or tribes. Tribal groups have their own rules for enrolling as a member of a tribe. I doubt 1/64 is enough and I am even more certain that 1/1024 is not sufficient for membership in the Cherokee Nation.
Now let’s talk about me. I am affiliated with the Omaha tribe. My Grampa, who was a rural mail carrier on the reservation shared by the Omaha and Winnebago tribes in Nebraska, was the son of Swedish immigrants, yet he took me to the Macy Pow Wow, where I played with little boys who lived there. One of them wrote to me after he read my blog about the pow wow. He remembered. We would play under the bleachers and out in the woods. The boys there treated me like a friend, despite my lack of tribal enrollment. Grampa and I learned a little about the Omaha culture by having friends on the reservation. That is more of a connection than high cheek bones.
To the best of my recollection, I did not see Elizabeth Warren at the Macy Pow Wow. That proves that I am more American Indian than she is.