Stephen F. Anderson - A Broken Tree: How DNA Exposed a Familys Secrets

A Broken Tree

ROWMAN & LITTLEFIELD

Lanham Boulder New York London

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available

ISBN 9781538127421 (cloth : alk. paper)

ISBN 9781538127438 (electronic)

TM The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

Printed in the United States of America

An undertaking of this kind is no small effort. Without the help of several people, I never would have learned the truth about my familys story.

I would first like to thank my brother Tim. I have to say that if it wasnt for Tim, this book may never have been written.

As with all great adventures, you really need a traveling companion to make the adventure complete. Tim was that traveling companion. We bounced ideas back and forth constantly. Early on, I discovered that my way of dealing with every new bit of information we discovered was to talk about it, and talk I did. Tim patiently listened to me and offered excellent feedback to help keep me on track, and to keep me from driving everyone else crazy. Thanks for everything, Tim!

Of course, I want to thank all of my brothers and sisters. Without them, there would never have been a story. They were supportive and willing to step into the unknown when it came time to have their DNA tested, not knowing what their DNA tests would reveal. Best of all, they showed the patience of Job when it came to tolerating my constant questions and need to talk things through. I am eternally grateful that we are family.

I want to give a special thanks to my dear wife and my four children. My wife was always there to keep me grounded, continually reminding me that regardless of what I found in respect to my DNA, I was still the man she married, before any of this happened. She constantly assured me that she wouldnt change a thing. My children loved hearing the constantly evolving stories that came with each new DNA test and interview. They all had a vested interest in my research, because my bloodline is their bloodline. They simply wanted to know the truth, and seemed to enjoy the journey. I appreciate my familys loving support and their continued encouragement to see this through to the end.

A special thanks goes to Jack Anderson of Andergene Labs. Without Jack, I doubt I would have found the answers to many of my questions. I appreciate the many recommendations he provided, and for his interest in seeing each new chapter of my familys story play out. Jack, I think the story is finally overat least for now. Im sure there will eventually be more to come.

I also want to thank the folks at AncestryDNA. Where Andergene Labs helped us discover who we were not related to, AncestryDNA and their remarkable database of information helped us discover all the people we really were related to. The folks at AncestryDNA really are bringing families together. I am extremely grateful for all their help.

I am also very grateful for my agent, Veronica Park. When she got involved, things started happening, in a very good way. She knows her stuff.

Thanks also to the good folks at Rowman & Littlefield. They made publishing this story so much easier than I ever dreamed possible. You folks are great. Thank you to Suzanne, Mary, and everyone else who helped to bring this book to fruition.

When I was a young boy, I loved watching Leave It to Beaver. Every day after school, I hurried home just so I could watch it before my dad turned on the evening news. I was fascinated by this show. June Cleaver was the perfect mother. I had never seen such perfection in a mother beforenot in my mom, or any of my friends moms. Oh, how I wished I had June Cleaver for my mother. Her home was spotless in every way. Each night, Ward and the boys came home to a home-cooked meal, complete with dessert and a beautiful smile on Junes face. Its funny how these things meant so much to a little boy like me. Ward Cleaver was the perfect father. I dont remember him ever raising his voice to his sons, to the level that anyone could possibly consider an honest-to-goodness yell. You could always count on Wally or the Beaver to get into trouble in every episode, but it was nothing that would merit a good grounding or revocation of privileges, much less a night in the local jail. And where were the sisters? I honestly wondered if that was one of the reasons June and Ward Cleaver seemed so calm most of the time. I had five sisters, so I knew their potential for causing excitement in a family.

I was fascinated by this TV show, yet as entertaining as it was to watch this flawless family living out their lives, I knew this kind of life was far beyond what my own family could ever realistically hope to achieve. I didnt realize at the time that this model was rarely, if ever, truly achieved by any family in America, much less the rest of the world.

My family was about as far away from the Cleavers as anyone could imagine. Our parents were Linda and Mark Anderson. There were nine children in our family, five girls and four boys. I was number seven in the lineup. Starting with the oldest, we had three girls, a boy, a girl, followed by three more boys, and finishing up with a girl. It seemed like a pretty good arrangement, as far as I could tell.

As it turned out, my mom didnt care much for kids. I couldnt for the life of me figure out why shed had so many children if she didnt like taking care of them, but thats just how it was in our home. Because of that, the first three girls pretty much raised the last three kids. The middle three were more or less left to take care of themselves. Dont get me wrong: My parents never outright abandoned us, nor did they leave all the discipline to the older sisters. My parents were there for the most part, and when necessary, they would bring discipline and order to the chaos of our home life.

My father worked for a local manufacturing company as a salesman, selling fire trucks for a living. This always seemed a bit funny to me. I remember the Jewel Tea man who came by to sell his hardware products, and the vacuum cleaner salesman who was always trying to get us to buy a new Hoover. But as a young boy, I couldnt imagine someone knocking door to door, trying to get someone to buy a fire truck. It simply never made sense to me. It wasnt until I was older that it finally dawned on me that somebody had to be out there hustling up the city officials who were responsible for buying fire trucks for their communitys fire department. To this day, I have never met a fire truck salesman other than my dad.