DNA – No Way!

Ok guys, so I've never made any secret of the fact that I'm a total dork. It's true. I accept it. I bore people all the time with anecdotes from the latest documentary I've watched. I listen to history, feminist and freakonomics podcasts. My favorite gift every Christmas is a different college lecture series about words, grammar, or the history of language. (Thanks, Dad!)  Yeah, I'm a complete and total dork.

But, one of my biggest geek interests is in genealogy. (Sometimes, I swear there's a 70-year-old woman stuck in my body.) My mom has done a lot of research about our personal family tree, and we know the names going back quite a ways. But I just can't get enough of all things family history. And, not even just mine. I adore the show "Who Do You Think You Are?" on TLC (the latest season premiere was last night!) and "Finding Your Roots" on PBS. I'm giddy like a schoolgirl when a new episode is on.

These shows are so intriguing to me because not only do you get to find out the ancestors of people (famous or not, doesn't matter to me), but you get to take a ride through the history of the world as you do it. If you live in America but are not Native American, well, then you're ancestors came from somewhere else in the world at some point. The shows take you back to all these countries where people lived and, from some reason or another, left and came to America.

(Side note: there are many seasons of an English version of "Who Do You Think You Are?", which obviously wouldn't have the whole coming to America aspect. But, I can't get my hands on it. It's stuck across the pond. I've tried. That's how pathetic my obsession with these shows is.)

I always think about what it must've taken someone to leave everything they've ever known to set out across an ocean to find their place in the world. It's fascinating to me. The courage and fortitude people have shown throughout history is insane. It makes my suburban dilemmas seem pretty pathetic in comparison. I never had to escape a Russian pogrom or be chased out of my country by a totalitarian dictator. These are real things, people.

Also, it's crazy to think about the myriad choices all these people made and how it all ended up funneling to you and your DNA. I mean, it's nuts. One great-great-great-great-grandmother falling in love with Peter instead of John, and your whole DNA could be different. I could very well be a super tall genius blonde model if not for that one choice. (I mean, I'm almost there as it is, but, you know, I'm sure it was only that one choice that ruined my chances.)

In these shows, they often perform DNA tests on the guests to discover what their DNA can tell them about where their ancestors came from. It's mind-blowing to think that with a tiny little spit, scientists can tell you that at some point you had an ancestor from China that you never knew about. It can also find that you're related to someone else who had the same test done. In one episode of "Finding Your Roots," Bill Maher and Bill O'Reilly found out that they are distantly related. Whew, that Thanksgiving table would be a boisterous one, for sure. Just make sure to hide the knives.

Anyway, all this buildup to tell you the really thrilling news of my day. I got my very own DNA ancestry kit in the mail. What?!?!? Yes.

Me with my very own DNA kit!

The official kit!

The inside. Because I'm sure you were curious.

Boom goes the dynamite

I have fairly eclectic taste when it comes to what I like to watch on TV. I love my soap, my news and weather, crime shows, comedies, dramas and home improvement shows. But, in the last couple years, I have started watching historical documentaries from the History Channel or National Geographic. A few months ago, I watched a three-part documentary called Prohibition on PBS. It was fascinating. I love learning things about history that completely escaped me in school.

Now, after six viewing hours of Prohibition, I thought I knew quite a bit about the whole time period and the people important to all sides of the issue. Somehow, though, I still didn't know this quirky little story of Charley Melvin, the crazy prohibitionist bomber from Iola, Kansas.

You don't know this story, either? Why, let me enlighten you.

See, apparently, this guy, Charley Melvin was a little nutso. That's a clinical term, I'm sure. He lived in Iola, Kansas, in 1905. Iola is in southeast Kansas, about two hours away from Kansas City. Well, Charley started suffering from insomnia and could not sleep, which made him even crazier. Even though he didn't like alcohol on principle, his friends convinced him that he should drink beer and whiskey to help him sleep. Whoops. Backfire. It actually made him even crazier. In early January, he got drunk and decided that it would be a good idea to get some guns and kill half a dozen of Iola's saloon keepers. I'm thinking Charley wasn't only nutso, but also not that bright.


Charley bought the guns needed to complete his diabolical plan, but in the meantime, wandered around the town square seeing giant pillars of fire. Yes, giant pillars of fire. Luckily, police were able to arrest him before he carried out his mass murdering spree. They arrested him on grounds of insanity. Shocker, I know.


The state mental hospital treated him for a whopping four months before declaring him cured. At which point, they released him. But, see, Charley wasn't so cured afterall. Less than two months after his plans to kill the saloon-keepers failed, he decided to try another tactic. He planted bags of dynamite in several of the town's illegal saloons. (They must've been illegal in name only, as they were prominently located in the town square, so I'm thinking the cops could've shut them down, had they any desire.)

At 12:26am on July 10th, Charley stood a block from the Eagle, Red Light and Blue Front saloons and watched his handiwork. He had placed bags with hundreds of sticks of dynamite at both the Eagle and Red Light saloons. The explosions ripped through the buildings and could be heard in towns miles away. They completely damaged the walls and roofs of the Eagle and Red Light saloons. The Blue Front saloon, which was in the middle of the other two, collapsed, trapping the saloon-keeper in his second-story apartment.

It even caused massive damage to the brand new Allen County Courthouse, including destroying 71 windows and stopping the two-day-old clock that had just been installed.

Charley later did admit that the damage was " ... a great deal heavier than I really wanted." He ran away. Police found three more sacks of dynamite at various other saloons around the town square. Apparently, Charley decided not to set those other explosions.

Police found Charley some two months later and charged him with burglary and larceny, in connection with the theft of the dynamite. Not sure why they couldn't charge him with, oh, something like bombing, but, whatever, I'm not an early twentieth century lawyer. He pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. And, as much as I'm sure he was probably crazy, the jury rejected that defense, and Charley was sentenced to prison. He spent 11 years in jail before being released in 1914, shortly before his death.

So, now you know all about crazy ol' Charley Melvin. And, now you know why I drove down to Iola late at night on Friday in order to run the Charley Melvin Mad Bomber Run for Your Life 5K at 12:26am on Saturday morning. Well, truth be told, I didn't do it for Charley. I did it for my friend Jen, who lives close to Iola and is on the planning committee for the run.

They came up with the race as a way to encourage healthy habits in southeast Kansas and as a way to turn a crazy, bad story into something good. I do think it is quite hilarious how much alcohol I saw being drunk before the race. I don't think Charley would've approved.

As crazy as I sound for running at 12:26am, I was in good company. Almost 400 people ran in the race, including myself, Cory, my friend Nikki, Jen and Jen's husband Arthur.

Me, Jen and Nikki before the race started.