On a day in July, 2018, I took a day off from work to do some things around our new home. Just two months earlier my wife, Kelly Forde, and I had sold our small one bedroom condo in Manassas, Virginia. The sale had gone quickly, about two weeks, though I had expected it to take months. This of course left us with nowhere to live and we scrambled to find a place.

Our original plan had been to move to the Charles Town area of West Virginia, an hour and fifteen minute drive northwest from Manassas. We had wanted something a little bigger with a big fenced in backyard for our dogs (of most interest to Kelly), and certainly something away from the metropolis that is Northern Virginia (of most importance to me). Also, one of my best friends, Eric Frye, lives in the area and I enjoyed visiting there over the last few years when we played golf together.

Eric offered his abode for us to stay as we searched. We were most grateful for this but knew we had to act quickly. Unfortunately we had several misfortunes looking for a house in the area. Either we were outbid, priced out, or in one case a serious mold problem was found in a basement upon inspection.

After these misadventures, we turned to Front Royal, Virginia. Front Royal is a small town forty five miles west of Manassas. Kelly's sister and brother-in-law (Kathy and Dwayne) live in the area, plus I had golfed out there aplenty in the last eighteen years since I had moved to Manassas from Dallas, Texas, my home town, for work. I liked Front Royal, Kelly did too, and well, it just fit.

So late that June morning as I sat sipping coffee, reflecting on the whirlwind that was the last six weeks, not to mention a mix of unpacked and unopened boxes before me, I heard the familiar sound of the mail truck stopping in front of our house. Not wanting the mail to sit for long, I sprang up and went out to retrieve it (obviously I wanted nothing do with unpacking).

As I walked in with the mail, sifting thru bills and another failed attempt at winning the Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes (thanks again Mr. Ed McMahon), I saw a couple of heavier letters from Ancestry DNA. Ah, I had forgotten: At dinner one night a few weeks before, Kelly and I, for fun, had decided to have our DNA tested and had sent off for testing kits.

Each kit contained a small vial where you submit your saliva in (you spit into it) along with a mailer to send it back in. Well, I thought to myself, seems easy enough. What better time than now to do that. Spitting beats unpacking any day.

As I sat there, goldbricking on the boxes and other assorted honey dos, I picked up the vial and began to spit, or mostly, drool, into it. Little did I realize that said goldbricking, spitting and drooling, and sometimes unpacking would lead me on a discovery trail that would change what I knew about my life.

To understand how I made it to Dallas, one must understand a little background on my Mom. On May 19th, 1943, Bonnie Sue Queen, my Mom, was born in Cullowhee, North Carolina, specifically the head of John's Creek off Caney Fork Road. She was the next to last child of nine born to Samuel Dewitt and Callie Lorena Queen, after Alice Gertrude (1925), Winifred (Winnie) Lorena (1927), General Talmadge (1929), Arnold Dewitt (1931), Hattie Mae (1934), Crystal Ellen (1936), Dixie Lee (1939), and before Franklin (Frank) Mealus (1946).

Cullowhee is an Appalachian town in Western North Carolina, about forty five minutes west by fast car from Asheville. It is home to Western Carolina University, which is part of the University of North Carolina System. A petroglyph boulder, Judaculla Rock, is also there. The Cherokee believe an ancient warrior, Judacullah, lived there. They consider the rock culturally and religiously significant.

While several of the Queen children stayed in North Carolina as adults, only three of them stayed on John's Creek: Alice, Talmadge, and Arnold. Even Alice, for a period of time, left the area and the state, but eventually returned. While Winnie and Crystal moved out of the area but stayed in the state, the rest made it to Michigan. Yes, Michigan. Alice came and went, but Hattie, Dixie, Frank, and Bonnie all made their way to the Wolverine state. All stayed but one -- guess which one did not?

Frank and Bonnie had travelled the state of North Carolina for a couple of years, with Mom even marrying a man named Braxton Tart in Graham, North Carolina on October 6, 1962. That relationship did not last and both sister and brother wandered off to Michigan together, arriving in August of 1964.

Michigan is quite pleasant in August, with average highs in the upper 70's to low 80's and lows in the upper 50's to lower 60's. However, September is the month where the temperature starts to precipitately drop, after the doldrums of summer. It's not uncommon for snowfall to arrive in October. By December, temperatures have dropped significantly and the snow has started in earnest.

By February, 1965, Mom had enough of the cold and snow and was vocal, to say the least, about it. She and some friends, who likewise shared an aversion to cold conditions, packed up their belongings and headed south. Texas they were bound, Dallas specifically.

Mom gets to Dallas in February 1965, meets Dad, I'm born and that's that. Well, the details are sort of important. My birth certificate says I was born on January 11, 1966, in Dallas, Texas, and named Robert Franklyn Wood. Those of you with an eye for detail will catch I was named after my Uncle Frank, Mom's brother, and that she missed the spelling of my middle name.

My Dad, Robert Dewey Wood (R.D.), met my mom shortly after her arrival (I was conceived in April 1965), had me, then my brother, Richard Dewey Wood, in November, 1966. We all lived together in Dallas proper until we became of school age. Yes, we are nine months and nineteen days apart, Irish twins no doubt.

I have always known my parents were not married when I was born. My parents were not traditionalist in that way. While they were conservative in most aspects, like treating people with respect, doing good, staying out of trouble, respecting authority, etc., they were quite liberal (or as Dad would like to say, not old fogies) when it came to those types of things. While it is common today, in some social circles in the 1960's having children out of wedlock was a stigma that sent many mothers and children off to live with family out of the immediate area. Luckily none of this was the case in our family and I never gave it two thoughts because there just wasn't that stigma that many others had to deal with.

Another oddity was my Dad was almost twenty three years older than my mom. He was born in Hugo, Oklahoma, in 1920. Yet again, growing up, and even today, I don't give this a lot of thought. It worked for them because they were together until Mom passed away in 2005. Dad, albeit so much older, outlived her by almost three years, passing away in 2008.

Mom had met Dad because she got a job working for him in one of the many bars (or as he and others of his time called them, beer joints) he and several of my Uncles ran in the Dallas area, the Lucky Lounge and the Double D Cafe among them. I remember very little of this bar business, because by the time I could remember such things, Dad ran a painting business with my Uncles, aptly titled Wood Brothers Painting. I always remember him coming home with paint all over him, certainly not booze or beer.

In fact, I never saw my Dad drink, he had quit when Richard and I were very small, at my Mom's insistence. Mom told him it was the drinking or us, he chose us, and that probably was the best thing that could've happened for all of us. Apparently he wasn't the nicest drunk in the world. I am forever grateful to him for that, and have always admired him because of it (among many other things). Now Mom was a social drinker, maybe a drink here and there with family, or a few playing Crazy Eights when we would meet up a few times a year with all the rest of the Queen's in North Carolina, but that was pretty much it. She liked a cold Miller High Life Pony when doing yard work or something, maybe even a Screwdriver, but it was only one or two, rarely more.

In 1972 Dad and Mom bought a house in Mesquite, Texas, just down the road from Dallas but still in Dallas County. Mesquite is famous for Big Town Mall (the first enclosed and air-conditioned mall in the Southwest), Mesquite BBQ (really good stuff), and the Mesquite Championship Rodeo venue. Richard and I attended school, grew up, and moved on from Mesquite -- but neither of us ever went to the Mesquite Rodeo.

A few weeks after shipping the vial containing my saliva back to Ancestry DNA, I received an email while I was at work that said my results were complete and that I could login to the site and view them. Once again, I had forgotten about this in the intervening time period much as I had when we first ordered the kits. The reason is simple: I wasn't expecting or looking for anything. I was just doing it since my wife wanted to do it. I guess we can blame her for this, right?

It actually took me a week or so before I could get on and look at the thing. On August 14, 2018, I had taken the day off to do some things around our house, and once I finished the chores, I logged in. I immediately went to the DNA Matches list to see what I thought would be chock full of Queen's, Broom's, Wood's, and Harris' on it. To my surprise there were people there, high up on the list, that I didn't know.

Figure 1 -- My top two matches on Ancestry

I sat there and looked at that screen for a very long time. KC and jivie55? Who are they? I certainly didn't know them but yet there they were -- my highest matches. Passing that up for a bit, and scrolling down the list, I saw the name Ivie many times along with the surname of Weaver. While I saw several people on the Queen and Broom side, I didn't see a single Wood.

I spent several days looking at all this, trying to figure out how I could be related to these folks. I quickly ruled out my mom's side of the family because we were close to all of them and I'm certain that I'd have known something had that been the case. Plus, the site has options where you can look at shared matches and KC and jivie55 didn't match anyone that I knew to be a Queen or Broom (i.e. my Mom's side).

I wasn't overly alarmed at the Wood issue because, frankly, we were never very close to any of our cousins on that side of the family, especially as we got older. For example, I had a cousin that was the same age as me, we went to the same high school, we were in the same grade, yet I saw my cousins that lived in Michigan more than I did him. In fact, this same cousin mentioned to me at my grandmother's funeral that it was a shame the only time we all see each other is when someone passes. Now in fairness, with Richard and I being the youngest of the oldest Wood brother (my Dad), there was a lot of age discrepancies between us all, so I don't mean this as knock on anyone.

I then tried to diagram the relationships with some of these folks out on a white board, maybe they were cousins of some sort. Then I started thinking that perhaps Dad had some other kids out there that we did not know about. They sure don't look anything like any of the Wood's I know (famous last words).

Come to think of it, thinking to myself, I don't look like any of them either, especially Dad. While I never preoccupied myself with that thought growing up, as I got older I did think of it from time to time but never more than a glancing second and certainly never mentioned it to anyone.

Well, I decided at this point the best thing to do would be to reach out to one of them on the site. Couldn't hurt, right? The worst they could do is to tell me to go to hell but that wouldn't be the first time I've been told that. So, on August 16, 2018, I penned a note to KC.

Figure 2 -- My first note to KC

It wasn't long (minutes, not hours) until she responded. Basically she told me that she did some genealogy research in her spare time, thought that I was related to her thru the Ivie line, and that I could message her at any time. She then told me that jivie55 was her Aunt, Jeannie. More importantly, she seemed very nice and my initial fears subsided.

As we continued to talk over the next few days, I learned her name was Kim and they were all from the Dallas area but her Aunt Jeannie had moved to Rhode Island when Jeannie was younger. Kim said her parents, Donny and Sheila, lived in East Texas. Sheila is Jeannie's sister. We then traded Facebook information, and became friends there.

The more Kim and I talked the more I started feeling that she was trying to tell me something but I wasn't getting it (or perhaps didn't want get it), and she couldn't just say it. I don't mean that in a bad way but more along the lines of I know something but you need to figure it out because I'm not sure how you'll react sort of deal. It is sort of like when you are younger and your teacher is spooning you information trying to get you to the answer without telling you. I realize this now, but at the time I just sort of felt it but as dumb as I am I didn't grasp it. I think it was probably more that I didn't want to grasp it than anything.

The first thing I did on Facebook was look at all the pictures Kim had there, then straight for Jeannie's profile, Sheila's too. I stared at pictures of Jeannie and Sheila for quite some time. There were similarities, but I blew off what must have been obvious. Kelly saw one picture of Jeannie and Sheila and said, Those could be your sisters. How prophetic she was.

After meeting Kim, I spent the next few months getting to know her and her family. I enjoyed talking with her as she was very friendly, as we sorted these DNA matches out. Looking at the matches, I could see that Jeannie (jivie55) was rated to me as Close Family-1st Cousin, and we shared 1,381 centimorgans. Centimorgans? After looking up info on what a centimorgan is, I realized it wasn't a centennial organ or some such but a unit of measure for genetic linkage. The higher the number the more directly, or closely, related you are to someone.

During these months, Jeannie and I talked on Ancestry and Facebook. She too wasn't quite sure how we were related, but we both knew it was high because we were each other's number one match. Both she and Kim got me in touch with Shelia, Jeannie's sister and Kim's mother. One evening we did one of those three-way chats on Facebook with me, Jeannie, and Sheila. It was very entertaining, to say the least, but informative too. They told me stories about their parents, spouses, children, where they lived, etc. and I shared with them the same.

Sheila mentioned that her Dad, John Eugene Ivie, ran a bar in downtown Dallas called the Starlight Lounge. This, of course, rang bells in my head. First, he had to have known my Dad because they certainly were in the same social circles in the middle of the 1960's, running dive bars and what not. More importantly though, I remember my Mom telling me that one of the places she worked at when she first came to Dallas was the Starlight Lounge. I knew I had heard the name of that bar before.

After I got up off the floor, I realized then that Jeannie wasn't an Aunt or Cousin -- she was my sister, as was Sheila. They had told me about their youngest sister, and mine too now, Brandie. I did a little Facebook stalking (I hate to admit that) and looked at her pictures. One of her sons looked a lot like me when I was that age, around eight years old. In fact, I thought it was me for a moment.

I spent a day or two chewing on all this and decided to call my brother, Richard. Richard and I, while we don't talk as much as we should, are pretty close. Hell, we are nine months and nineteen days close! I go down to North Carolina a few times a year to visit him and his family, though not as much as I used to once Mom and Dad passed.

I told Richard my suspicions but he was adamant that it couldn't be true but he said that he was going to do the DNA test. I told him he didn't have to do that, but he wanted to, and I did tell him what he'd find out. He said we shall see. It felt like a bet had been placed. I remember thinking, I wish I was having a beer in the Starlight about now. I could've used one at that moment, but alas there was more.

I also decided to reach out to my cousin, Niki, and let her know what I'd found out. Niki is my cousin, my Uncle Frank (Mom's brother) and Aunt Marcia's daughter, and lives in Michigan. I am closer to her (even if we don't talk as much as we should -- seems to be a reoccurring theme with me) than I am anyone in the family, short of Richard and Jenny (another cousin that I should talk to more often). Hence why I thought it was important she know. As I told her my suspicions, she said I should speak with Aunt Marcia.

Aunt Marcia is, by a far margin, my favorite aunt regardless of which side. My Mom absolutely adored her, and for good reason. You only meet so many people in your life that make an impact on your life, and I would count her right near the top of the list. Reading thru letters Mom had sent to Aunt Marcia from way back in the day, I wasn't the only one who had that opinion.

Before I could call Aunt Marcia, I received a message from Andrea on Ancestry. I did not know who she was, but she mentioned we were related but was having trouble placing me or my surname on her ancestry tree (go figure). She deduced that we were related on her mother's maternal side. One of the names she mentioned was Weaver. There were several of those on my list of matches.

As we got to talking, or chatting as us hipsters like to say, she figured out our lineage rapidly. We were related thru her great grandmother, Lottie. Lottie had a sister, Ora Estella Weaver-Ivie, who after marrying Lewis Ivie, had several children including John Eugene Ivie (there's that guy again). I had heard of Ora Estella thru Jeannie and Sheila. Andrea said they called her Aunt Stella. From the pictures and stories I have heard, she sounded like a truly memorable character.

I told Andrea my suspicions, and she was direct about it by basically saying welcome to the NPE club. NPE, Non Parent Expected, is a group of people who via DNA discovered that one of their parents were not their biological parent. If it sounds confusing, you are not the only one. However, many people have coped with and gotten support from being a part of these groups. Andrea, as it turns out, could relate to all this as she went thru it herself.

With all this on my mind, I dialed Aunt Marcia's number. We exchanged pleasantries, I told her my suspicions, and she confirmed it. How did she know? My Mom had told Aunt Hattie (Mom's sister) but Hattie had gotten drunk and spilled the beans to Aunt Marcia, which apparently she wasn't supposed to do. In fact, Richard and I remembered that for a few years in the late 70's and early 80's my Mom and Hattie did not speak. We wondered what the feud was, because they had been very close. Now I knew what it was. Loose lips sink ships (I learned that in the Navy).

If I needed more proof, I didn't have to wait long as Richard's DNA results were in and it was just as I'd expected: we were half-brothers, not full. I went ahead and told Kim, Jeannie, and Sheila what I knew. I then called my sister, Debbie, who was now, of course, my step sister. I wanted her to know from me as opposed to learning it elsewhere. Never was I more relieved to hear her tell me she didn't care if we were blood related or not -- I was still her brother. Finally, I called my cousin Jenny (though this didn't change our relationship) just so she heard it from me.

My biological father is John Eugene Ivie, or Gene as he was called. He was born in Navarro, Texas, in 1929. He passed away in Waxahachie, Texas, in November 1980. I believe he was married four times. His children are Jeannie, Larry, Rickey, Danny, Sheila, yours truly, and Brandie. There are many nephews and nieces, Kim, Gina, Jennifer, Robin, Bethany, Rachel, and Melissa among them to name a few. I'm NPE. Welcome to the group, Frank.

Jeannie, my oldest sister, lives in Rhode Island. Her daughter, Gina, reached out to me on Facebook and we exchanged numbers. I told her that I would like to come up and meet her and Jeannie. She said great, so I took some time off work in June 2019 to drive up there. I thought it would be a fun trip, and the fact that I had never been to Rhode Island in my many travels iced it for me.

Now anyone that knows much about the east coast knows that to get almost anywhere you must get on I-95. If it's not the busiest highway in the world, it's right up there. Also, you should know that driving up that way from Virginia takes you right into New York City, unless you go way around or something. This means traversing the George Washington Bridge. This means traffic, and lots of it. From the Bridge onwards north to Providence, Rhode Island, should take about three hours. It took us almost six. My hairline went a little further north after all this.

We get there (Kelly went with me), check in at the hotel, and talk to Gina about coming over. I'm nervous as a, well I can't say how nervous I was. Suffice it to say I was more nervous than any saying you could find in the urban dictionary. Why was I so nervous? Probably the ten-hour drive from Virginia, or the twelve cups of coffee, or simply anticipation. Whatever it was, Rodney Dangerfield had nothing on me.

We drove over, got out (they have a lovely place), and rang the doorbell. Jeannie answers, gives me a hug, and well the nervousness was gone. We also had a surprise in store: Sheila had flown from Dallas and was there too! Not only that, we met Gina and her husband Mike, Gina's beautiful daughter Casey, and Casey's father, Norm. This was a treat, and it wasn't even Sunday.

Talking with Sheila made me realize how close we had been to each other when I was in Texas after my hitch in the Navy. Her and her husband Donny live near Cedar Creek Lake. I was in Mesquite. Now that's about 45-50 minute trip down US-175 if I remember right. The reason I know this is because all I ever did in Texas in the 90's on the weekends (and many weekdays) was fish. I owned a bass boat and my free time was spent fishing. I lived a lot closer to Lake Ray Hubbard, and fished there the most, but often when I would want to get away, I'd either go to Lake Tawakoni or Cedar Creek Lake. Both were about the same distance from me, and both were rural and away from the city, which I liked. I am sure on my many visits to Cedar Creek Lake we all bumped into each other at some point.

Then we had copious amounts of food, and it was all so delicious! Gina and Sheila cooked some great stuff. We sat around telling sea stories and what not. I could not have drawn up a better time had I put in an order for it. Everyone was so great, and treated Kelly and I so well, that we couldn't wait to come back. In fact, we did go back. During the holidays of 2019, Gina texted me to see if we had plans for Christmas. We did, but I asked her what about New Years, and we went from there. We wound up spending almost a week with them over New Years, and once again had a fantastic time, all together as the ball dropped at midnight. This time we flew; no more driving on I-95 for this guy. I didn't lose any hair this time, or my sanity.

What's left now you say? Well, I am going to Texas in March to meet as many more as I can. I still have a sister and gobs of nieces and nephews to meet, as well as associated husbands, wives, and kids. I am really looking forward to it. I am terrible with names so I only hope I can remember it all. I'm sure I'll be just fine though.

The only bad thing about all this is that we all live so far apart. I suppose that's life though. At least I'm in good shape and can travel easily, and the fact we can all easily communicate with texting, Facebook, etc., is good too. Onwards!