So here’s a picture of me with mutton chop sideburns, circa 1900.

Wait, what?!

That’s right—I sat for this portrait sometime around the turn of the 20th century, which makes sense since my loving son likes to remind me that I’m so old that I was there when my old pal Thag chipped out the first wheel …

Okay, look again. That’s not actually me (the ears and the tie should be a giveaway)—it’s my great-great-grandfather on my mother’s side, John (or most likely Giovanni) Michael Cacchione, who lived 1856-1926. I don’t have a date on the photo (which my mother got from her genealogy-loving cousin), but I’m guessing he’s actually pretty close to my current age when it was taken.

I hate posting pictures of myself anywhere, but this is special—here are the two of us side by side. (I’m the one on the right, in case you’re not sure.)

Kind of eerie, right? That or there’s just not so many branches on that family tree. (More of a pole?) I know we’re related, but come on: Same profile, same nose, eyes, brows, chin, lips and receding hairline. Oh, and if I was patient, I could grow those sweet ‘chops in about two weeks, probably with the same amount of gray. Uncanny.

Let’s put it this way: I don’t even have that much resemblance to *my own father* or *my own sons*—and we’re all a lot closer in terms of genetic material than me and g2-granddad. (Or so I always thought … hmmm.) I don’t even look that much like my grandfather (g2-granddad’s grandson), the middle link in this line. What the hey?!

But yeah, clearly a pair of handsome devils, separated by about a century or so. Despite my son’s beliefs, I never met g2-granddad, and neither did my mother. If my math is on, my grandfather Clem (ol’ Giovanni was his maternal grandfather) only would’ve been about 14 when he died, so I don’t know what kind of relationship they had. They all lived in the same Brooklyn, N.Y., neighborhood, although g2-granddad immigrated from Italy when he was middle-aged and most likely spoke very limited English. Clem was born here and only spoke English, as best I know.

Still, the whole thing is remarkable to me—that I could still look so similar to a relative born over 160 years ago, and one who’s back four generations up the family pole … er, tree. Again, I know I shouldn’t be so shocked, but I can’t help it.

Of course, my next question is how much are/were we alike in other matters? I’m having flashes of Jan Brady’s Aunt Jenny here. My grandfather is long gone so I can’t ask him about his grandfather, and what my mother knows is all from what tidbits and stories her father shared. Recording devices were only just coming into the picture, so I have no sense of what he sounded like or how he moved or how he comported himself on a daily basis.

Obviously, great-great-granddad John didn’t surf the internet looking for celebrity flesh, but did he maybe have a special picture of Nellie Bly showing a bit more ankle than was socially accepted? Not to besmirch his legacy or anything—I suppose I do that just fine without dragging him directly into it.

Yet, I have to wonder:

• If people who drove buggies slow in the passing lane made him buggy.

• If he was any good at the broad jump, or excelled in any sort of athletic pursuit—given his heritage, maybe he was also good at the bocce.

• If he was rather shy and that seeing his picture posted for the public to see in a forum like this would’ve freaked him out. (Scour the intrawebz and I guaran-damn-tee you that the picture above is the only picture of me that I’ve ever posted of myself *anywhere*.)

• If he enjoyed writing—although given the dearth of written materials associated with him (read: none), that’s evidently a “no.” Maybe he enjoyed telling stories, which is sort of the same thing, although he probably never discussed his gastrointestinal issues in public. Chances are he didn’t make a lot of silly Top 10 lists.

• If he was innately curious and often thought about the questions of the universe, such what life was on other planets, how life would evolve or if his great-grand-grandson would end up being an utter dork.

• If at any family picnic, he was really content to sit in the shade and enjoy the breeze.

• If he was meticulous in his personal grooming. Those ‘chops have nice tight lines, and he’s keeping it close and neat up top, too—I know that his son (my great grandfather) was a barber, and he may have been one, too. My mother used to cut my hair using my great grandfather’s scissors; I now do it (with an electric razor) as well as my son’s.

• If he had a sweet tooth that demanded chocolate (or whatever sugary confections he enjoyed) on an hourly basis.

• If he would’ve rather spent the day hanging out with his kids more than pretty much anything else life had to offer.

• If he could find the humor in anything and pretty much took nothing seriously—other than posing for photos.

• If he had such a twisted sense of humor that he would think this Garfunkel & Oates tune (VERY NSFW … or the general public, now that I think of it) is as brilliant as I do.

• If he was as open-minded so even if he was horribly offended by that video, he would sort of shrug and be like, “Well, if you want to go to hell with those harlots, that’s up to you.”

• If in coming to the U.S. after the Civil War, he did so because he also believed in and loved freedom and all the opportunities that this great country provides.

The good news is that, based on history, I feel fairly comfortable saying that my grand-great-grandson will be a good-lookin’ dude. So, at least he’ll have that going for him. The rest … well, I guess we’ll have to wait to find out ….