A Broken Tree Read online

  When I was sixteen years old, she moved me and my younger brother and sister from our home to another state. I was not at all happy with this move at the time, but I eventually realized that this decision had a remarkable impact on my life and the lives of Tim and Carlee. No matter how mad she made me or how selfish her motives might have been, I always felt a sense of deep gratitude to her for believing in me and for moving us to another state. Countless opportunities were made available to Tim, Carlee, and me with this move. We enjoyed a great school with enormous resources, exposure to many new cultures, job opportunities that did not exist in our former small town, and friends who were not interested in doing drugs, to name just a few benefits. This move changed our lives in more ways than we will ever know.

  After struggling with the intense anger I felt toward Mom after the revelations, I decided I had two options: I could get years of therapy; or I could face the issue head on and come to terms with what Mom had done. Whatever avenue I chose to follow, I knew I needed to deal with these feelings. I refused to go through life letting this anger eat me up inside, turning me into a bitter old man. I knew I wouldn’t like the person I would become if I didn’t resolve this issue.

  With time, and a lot of writing, I was finally able to figure things out and let go of those feelings. My research has helped me to understand my mom a lot better. My sister gave me a collection of poems written by my mom at the time all of this was going on. It was strange to read them, realizing that most of what she wrote about didn’t involve Mark, but other men she felt close to. Reading her poems gave me insight into her mind and heart.

  The fourth reason I decided to share our story is because I believe it gives a great deal of legitimacy to the power and value of DNA testing, and what it can do for family history. Using DNA to research one’s family history can do a lot more than just reveal the ethnicity of one’s ancestors. A personal account like this one might help others see the value and range of what DNA testing can do.

  If you could change any part of this experience, what would you have done differently?

  I think there is only one thing I wish I would have done differently. I wish I would have started investigating things a lot earlier. Knowing what I know now, I would have taken more chances and asked more questions, even the ones that could have upset Mark. I probably wouldn’t have stopped until he got right in my face and told me it couldn’t go on any longer. I would have liked to have asked Mark to tell me his version of what went on and why he did some of the things he did. I would like to know how much he really knew.

  I think I might even have had the courage to approach my biological father and talk to him while he was still alive. Of course, I would have promised that neither his wife nor his children would know about me and what he said, at least until after he and his wife were gone. Those are the answers you cannot learn from DNA samples. I have so many questions that I would love to ask those who would know the answers. I’m not sure they would have been willing to speak with me, but at least I could have tried.

  Something else I would have done differently is that I would have started gathering DNA samples from all of my siblings and a few other family members while they were still alive. At the time of this writing, two of my siblings and both of our parents have died. I described our last-ditch effort to get a DNA sample from Mark at the funeral home. If you don’t want to take the very real risk of missing out on getting a good DNA sample from a family member, get the samples before this point; it’s so much easier when they are still living.

  With my two deceased siblings, I’ve had to work through their children to get DNA samples. This was a lot more complicated, and definitely more expensive, because of additional tests that needed to be done. If possible, start considering what you need to do to gather and preserve DNA samples from your living family members. You might also start thinking about what questions you want answered through the testing of your DNA samples. Then look around and see what companies offer the services you are looking for, and how much they charge.

  Finally, I think I would share information with my sister Diane sooner than we did. We waited as long as we did for two reasons. First, Mom made me promise that I wouldn’t tell Diane until after Mom died. Second, I wanted to make sure that when we broke the news to Diane, I would be able to provide her with as much information as I could reasonably find, and that the information was correct. None of us were sure how well she would handle news like this, so I wanted to make sure she had all the facts, so she could take it in and come to terms with things. I realize now that we probably waited too long. The longer you wait to share information about these kinds of DNA discoveries, the harder it is for someone to come to terms with what you’re telling them. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure that there ever is a “good time” to break news like this to someone. It will likely be a shock regardless of when you tell them.

  I don’t think there is anything else I would have done differently. For the most part, I’m pleased with the course we’ve taken and how things have progressed.

  Why did you wait until you were in your late fifties to start doing this DNA testing on your family?

  The biggest reason we waited so long was because both of our parents were still alive. For years, Tim and I had talked about how useful it would be if we could get DNA samples from our parents to create a standard against which any of us could be compared to see if Mark really was our biological father. Even though we had talked about it, neither of us wanted to approach our parents to ask for DNA samples. If they had had any clue why we wanted the samples, we would never have gotten them. This was just too touchy for anyone to bring up. No one had the nerve to let them know we seriously wanted this information. It wasn’t until Mark’s death that Tim and I realized if we didn’t do something right away, we might never get a second chance. We no longer had the luxury of putting this off. As it was, we waited more than two years after collecting the DNA sample before we made any serious effort to begin testing.

  A second reason we waited so long was that ten years ago, DNA testing was a lot more expensive and a lot less sophisticated than it is now. By the time we started testing our family’s DNA, the companies we used were providing information that fit our needs exactly. Some of those services were simply not available even five years before. Keep in mind that when we started our adventure into researching our family’s unique history, we had no idea that my parents’ activities included so many other people and their families. Had we known how far this story really went, Tim and I might have moved on this a lot sooner.

  Once we started learning for certain that there were several siblings who might not have been fathered by Mark Anderson, it opened a whole new world of possibilities, and that included Tim and me. Suddenly, this story took on a new sense of urgency, and we could no longer tell ourselves that it could wait. We needed to know some answers, and we needed them now, before any other family members died.

  If we had started earlier than we did, Dad would have been alive, and I could have asked him some very specific questions. Although I doubt he would have been willing to talk to me about it, it would have been worth a try. All the DNA tests in the world will never tell us why our parents did what they did.

  Tim’s and my biological father died less than ten years ago. If we had started our research earlier, we might have had the opportunity to meet with him and ask him some questions, but this will never happen.

  It’s easy to say now what we would have done differently if we knew then what we know now, but you don’t get the opportunity to go back and do things over. If we could, things might have turned out very differently.

  If you could see your mom and Mark again and talk to them for one hour, what would you ask them?

  Oh, where do I begin? One hour would hardly be enough.

  I guess my first two questions would be, “What the hell were you thinking?” and “Why did you do this?” I would ask these two questions to both Mom and Mark. If it wa
s simply a matter of Mom being unfaithful to Mark, then all of this would make a little more sense to me. But if Mark knew what was going on with Mom and the other men, and was complicit, then that would throw all logic to the wind as far as I’m concerned. I would follow up by asking Mark how much he knew about this, and when he was made aware of what was happening. I would like to see if he could give me some clarification as to how much he was a part of this, and what role he might have played. I would love to know what set all of these events in motion.

  Next, I’d like to know how much, if anything, the spouses of these other men knew about their husbands getting Mom pregnant. If they knew, and were silent about it, much less gave tacit approval, then that brings this story up to a whole new level of craziness. It’s hard to believe that none of them knew; if that was the case, then I’d like to ask how they were able to keep all of these secrets.

  My next question would be whether Mark ever knew that any of us were not his children. It’s obvious now that he knew the truth about some of them. Did he know the whole story? Did he know that none of us were his? I would also like to ask Mark whether he ever considered the possibility that he was sterile. If so, did he ever go to a doctor to see if he was?

  Finally, I’d like to know if all the men involved knew about us. In other words, did Mom tell these men that she was pregnant by them? If they knew, what did they do? What were their reactions? Did they run away from taking any responsibility, or were any of them willing to do something that would show some sense of concern and compassion for Mom and their unborn child? Answering these kinds of questions would add depth to this story and offer a glimpse into the personalities of those involved.

  How has all of this affected your own sense of self-esteem?

  I’m fine with my newfound identity now, but I have to admit, it took a few years for me to get to this point. When I first found out that the man who raised me was not my biological father, I had some very serious questions about who I really was. Keep in mind, for the first fifty-eight years of my life, I had no clue that Mark was not my biological father. I was totally unprepared to deal with the truth when I finally discovered it. I remember telling Jack Anderson from Andergene Labs that if he found out I was not Mark’s son, I would be okay with it; I’d be able to handle it just fine. Boy, was I wrong! What was I thinking?

  When I finally discussed this matter with my mom, when she was ninety, I wasn’t sure she would even remember who my biological father was. Although she was amazingly sharp for her age, she might not easily remember something that had taken place more than half a century before. For all I knew, this might have been something she didn’t want to remember. If she had been hanging out with dozens of men at the time, there might be no way to identify him. At that point, I thought I might never find out who my biological father was, much less what he was like. This was hard to take and compounded the mental trauma.

  The sheer flood of questions that filled my mind was quite literally overwhelming. Most people have a pretty good idea who they are and what their family’s history is, at least regarding their parents and siblings. In a single moment, everything I believed to be true about myself vanished, and I had no idea what I could believe anymore. I looked at myself in the mirror and no longer knew who I was. I had always been an Anderson. I grew up knowing my aunts and uncles and all my Anderson cousins. I loved them all and had remarkably strong family connections with them. I had spent more than forty years researching my Anderson family line back into the early 1600s, in Norway. This history was deeply ingrained within the very marrow of my bones. My children and I were intensely proud of our Norwegian ancestry.

  When Jack gave me the results of my DNA test, all of that was taken away from me in an instant. I no longer belonged to my father’s family. Even worse, I had no idea who I belonged to. My son’s initial comment was right: I really was a bastard. I was going through a very real identity crisis. Experiencing this gave me a good idea of what someone must feel like when they learn they were adopted. The feelings of shock, betrayal, and self-doubt are a lot more real and traumatizing than I ever thought they would be.

  I was also so angry at my mother. In all my years, I don’t remember ever being so angry at anyone. In my mind, Mom was no longer the mother who took time to teach me to believe in myself. Instead, she was someone I wanted no part of. I’m a bit ashamed by how judgmental I was when I first discovered her secret, but those were my gut reactions, and they were very real and very painful. Like I said earlier, I did not handle it well at all. Looking back at that day, I understand that I simply did not know enough about Mom and Mark’s early marriage and what was going on in their lives to be able to make a rational and fair judgment of the situation. During those first few weeks, I didn’t even want to talk to Mom; I was afraid of what I might say to her.

  During the last several years of her life, I’d been in the habit of calling Mom every Sunday evening to see how she was doing and share news of what was happening with the family. I lived about 1,400 miles away from where she lived, so I didn’t get to see her very often. For the first few months after I found out about her secret, I struggled with those calls. It was hard to pretend that I was enjoying our conversations. I knew what she had done, and that she had no idea I knew the truth. I’m sure she realized something was off; she always knew when something bad was going on in my life. I worried that she might ask me what was happening, wondered if I would have the courage to tell her what I had learned and how I felt about her. I hated the person I was becoming. I hated having these feelings toward my mother.

  On the other hand, my love and appreciation for Mark dramatically increased with each new fact I learned. I don’t kid myself: I know that he must have played some part in this, but I have very few clues to give me a good assessment of how much he knew and what his involvement was. From what facts I’ve been able to gather, it appears that he was betrayed—at least, with the first three children. After that, his knowledge and potential involvement is anyone’s guess.

  Over the past few years, we have confirmed the identity of all but two of our biological fathers. (Although we don’t have definitive proof for the last two, we are confident we have identified the correct men.) My siblings have told me that they all feel Mark Anderson is, and always will be, our father, regardless of who our biological fathers might be. I agree completely. Mark Anderson will always be my father. He is the man who raised us and loved us, whether or not he knew he wasn’t our biological father. I respect him for that, and for so many other things.

  I am fine with who I am now. I’d be kidding myself if I said that I haven’t changed, or that I feel the same way about myself as I did before I learned this secret. In my mind, I’m not any different with this new identity. But biologically and, to some degree, emotionally, I know that I’m not an Anderson, and that still bothers me a bit, although not as much as it used to.

  I would like to know more about my genetic and medical history. For the sake of my own health and the health of my children and future posterity, it would be helpful to have a genetic profile of my Jacobson family line, which will be possible with the advances that are being made in the field of DNA and genetic engineering. For that reason, I’d like to make a connection with Timmy Jacobson’s family someday, but not now. The time isn’t right for that.

  Are you or any of your siblings interested in learning more about your biological fathers (e.g., their personal traits, obtaining photographs, etc.)?

  Some are and some are not. I don’t think Neil is at all interested in learning any more than he already knows. Since Neil grew up sharing a part of his life with his biological father, he already knows a lot about him. Most of the rest of us didn’t have an opportunity to work with, or spend any time with, our biological fathers, so we have fewer memories and less knowledge about them.

  Holly knew her biological father’s family enough that she didn’t really seem to have a need to get to know them any more than she already did. Glo
ria and Judy don’t seem interested in learning anything more about their new family (they share their biological father, Sam, with Holly). They are fine leaving well enough alone.

  Carlee knows her father was a man named Peter, but she’s never met him, and knows almost nothing about him. We have never been able to locate him or any of his current family members. When he lived in our town and met our mom, he was single and didn’t have a family. According to our older sisters, who knew him very well, Peter was from Germany and worked in our grandpa’s factory alongside Mark Anderson. After he was let go, he seems to have disappeared. From what I can tell from my research, no one knows where he went. He moved away from his uncle’s home and simply left no word as to where he was going.

  I recently spoke with someone who knew Peter. She said that just before my brother Paul passed away, Peter came to visit with him. Apparently, one of Peter’s close family members in a neighboring town had died, and Peter had come back for the funeral. Peter stopped by to visit Paul and wanted to know how each of my older sisters were doing. He apparently remembered them very well and was interested in what had happened to them since he’d last seen them so many years ago. This person didn’t know if Peter asked about the daughter he’d had with our mom, or if he even knew that he had fathered a daughter. This took place about six years ago, so we don’t know if Peter is still alive or not.

  Carlee has done some DNA testing with AncestryDNA to see if her DNA matches with anyone in their database. She was hoping that if Peter had any children or grandchildren living in the States, perhaps one or more of them might have had their DNA tested through AncestryDNA and they might be able to make contact. So far, no one has come up as a match with Carlee. She still hopes that someday one of Peter’s children might be added to AncestryDNA’s database and they can find each other. Carlee is definitely interested in learning more about her biological father and his family.