During the Heartland Roadtrip of January, my sister and my Dad performed a DNA test to satiate their long-standing curiosities regarding the issue of whether or not my dad is my sister’s sire as well. We definitively know who her mother is, and we do have the same mother. We know who her father is not . . . . He is not the large black man, who, in addition to my father, also used to frequent our mother’s apartment. Well, we don’t think that’s her daddy, but you never know. . .

Anyway, the results have not come back just yet, but here’s a little taste of what’s to come . . .

That would be a pamphlet from the DNA company in sister’s hand . . .

Everybody seems to think she looks just like the rest of us . . .

Seriously, though, we all talked about this as a family and we did agree that the results don’t really matter. We are family. We love one another anyway, despite the fact that we all seem to have some sort of odd facial twitch. That’s what counts.