{"id":3047,"date":"2021-06-30T15:54:45","date_gmt":"2021-06-30T20:54:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/?p=3047"},"modified":"2021-06-30T15:56:41","modified_gmt":"2021-06-30T20:56:41","slug":"twenty-three-pairs-of-me-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/2021\/06\/twenty-three-pairs-of-me-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Twenty Three Pairs of Me"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

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I stand on a wobbly\nstool in the pathology laboratory and aim an eyedropper full of cells at a\nglass slide on the counter below.  The\nfirst two drops miss.  The third hits the\nslide, splitting open the cells and scattering twenty-three pairs of chromosomes.  I stain them with dye to produce the characteristic\nbanding pattern of the underlying genes. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a pathologist, I\nwould normally cut out the individual chromosomes from a photograph and organize\nthem in pairs according to size, do a quick head count to verify all are\naccounted for and then pore over them to detect any abnormal banding pattern\nsuggesting an evil gene.  But this is of\nno concern with this sample.  This is my vanity\nproject; these are my chromosomes.  I\nwant to see the distillation of my ancestry, the underlying engine that keeps\nlife humming along.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t cut up my photograph,\nwrangle my chromosomes into a genetic version of a police line-up.  I leave them just as they land.  As a group, they look like an aerial view of a\njoyful dance floor.  At the picture\u2019s\ncenter, chromosome 9 is bent at the waist, tapping the shoulder, and cutting in\non chromosome 2.  Perhaps chromosome 12 is eagerly seeking her better\nhalf, isolated at the other side of the dance floor, obscured by a smear of\nblood.  I am proud of my two stalwart X\nchromosomes.  One is cozied up against the\nstubbier chromosome 7, the other next to the willowy chromosome 6.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My photograph\ncaptures my chromosomes as they prepare to divide, duplicated and tightly coiled,\nready to be yanked apart when the cell splits into two.  Uncoiled and relaxed in their new cells, they\ndevolve into a gossamer network of filaments studded with genes, bathed in a\nnurturing cellular soup.  I picture my\ngenes pulsing and thrumming as they direct scuttling messengers, marshal\nforces, build proteins and fend off attacks. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My ancestors have\nbequeathed me this shimmering array of genes. \nThe solemn portraits of my triple great grandparents, Nancy and Henry, hang\nin my dining room. Maybe my genes have gotten a bit dinged up\nthrough five generations and trillions of divisions, but 1\/32nd<\/sup> of my\ngenetic material can be traced back to these people.  How can I connect my chromosomes to this\ncouple, two pioneers who stowed all their possessions in a wagon and headed from\nupstate New York to a one room house in western Illinois?  How are their genes playing out in my comfortable\nsuburban life?  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I imagine Henry as an expert marksman, relying on\nhis innate hand-eye coordination to bring down a grouse or dove to feed his\nfamily.  Have I repurposed this talent\ninto my blistering forehand on the tennis court?  Perhaps Nancy was an expert tracker in the\nwoods, able to spot a freshly broken twig or a blurred paw print, guiding Henry\nto the wolf that had devastated their chicken coop.   Did I\nrepurpose this gene for pattern recognition into a career as a pathologist, scanning\nswaths of cells to deftly pick out the rogues? \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is there more in my primordial ooze that has lain fallow\nall these years?  Maybe that bleb on\nchromosome 5, or that little satellite waving atop chromosome 12, remnants of\nHenry and Nancy\u2019s inheritance that I have not nurtured.  I consider my recent interest in public\nstory-telling, an activity that I never would have considered for myself.  Me, speaking in front of strangers? At\nbars?  No, never.  But there I stand, microphone in hand.  Maybe I am belatedly channeling Henry,\ntapping into his talents.  I imagine him attending\nthe 1858 Lincoln-Douglas debate in nearby Freeport, Illinois. On his return he\nentertained his neighbors with colorful stories, including, he claimed without\ncorroboration, an uncanny imitation of Lincoln\u2019s voice and mannerisms. Perhaps\nHenry became a well-known raconteur, recognized at church picnics and county\nfairs.  Am I walking in his\nfootsteps?  Once someone in the grocery\nstore recognized me as a story-teller, and then again at a quilting convention.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stand in front of\nHenry and Nancy with my photograph, pondering hidden talents and untapped\npotential.  The picture has traveled with\nme for forty years, from city to suburbs, from apartment to house, from fridge\nto office.  It is a snapshot of an old\nfriend, a touchstone, a story prompt.  Thirty-five\nyears ago, and then again thirty-one years ago, I was proud to bequeath half of\nmy genes, 1\/64th<\/sup> of Heny and Nancy\u2019s, to my two children.<\/p>\nFollow Liza Blue on: \"Facebook\"<\/a>\"twitter\"<\/a>Share: \"Facebook\"<\/a>\"twitter\"<\/a>\"reddit\"<\/a>\"pinterest\"<\/a>\"linkedin\"<\/a>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

T I stand on a wobbly stool in the pathology laboratory and aim an eyedropper full of cells at a glass slide on the counter below.  The first two drops miss.  The third hits the slide, splitting open the cells … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3047","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-such-is-life"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7iVc8-N9","post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3047","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3047"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3047\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3049,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3047\/revisions\/3049"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3047"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3047"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3047"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}