I think I’ve shared this story before, but this is sort of on topic, so I’ll do it again.

About 5 years ago an African-American woman from Detroit named Jacquelyn contacted a cousin of mine in central Tennessee. She wanted to know if he was related to a man mentioned in a Civil War journal she had acquired a copy of while researching her own ancestors. The journal detailed a Union supply convoy that moved through the Sequatchie Valley during the siege of Chattanooga. During the march south, a soldier recounted how they had met a “slave woman and 5 mulatto children who said the master of the house was hiding in the woods.” My cousin told her the name of the man was not exact, but close enough to his (and mine) great-great grandfather’s, and he agreed to do a blood test.

Jacquelyn ran the test and discovered that we were related, and in fact my great-great grandfather was her great-great grandfather. The “slave woman” was her great-great grandmother.

A lot of people are more intertwined then they care or are willing to admit and I think once you open yourself up to the fact life is one big stew, life becomes a lot more interesting.