I need to tell you about something that’s been keeping me up at night lately, and no, it’s not another existential crisis about whether I peaked in elementary school (spoiler: I absolutely did). It’s about two guys named Jim who lived 40 miles apart, never met until they were 39, and somehow managed to live almost exactly the same life.
I’m talking same wives’ names. Same kids’ names. Same dog’s name. Same everything.
And it may or may not be making me question every choice I’ve ever made.
But First, Let’s Talk About Dance Recital Anxiety
Before we dive into this rabbit hole of genetic destiny, I need to confess something: I’m currently experiencing peak parental anxiety about my daughter’s upcoming ballet recital. Not because I’m worried she’ll mess up—no, no. I’m worried about her sister, her 1-and-a-half-year-old sister, who we basically have to treat like an unpredictable aggressive rescue dog at public events.
You know those families who have to walk their dog at 11 PM because it’s the only time they won’t terrorize the neighbourhood? That’s us with our toddler. You never know if you’re getting the sweet puppy or the one who’s going to steal a stranger’s Nintendo switch, the throw an udon bowl and eat the noodles off the floor with her hands.
Yes, that happened. Yes, I’m still processing it. The restaurant is still working with the Authorities.
But, now for a transition, here’s the thing: watching my wife become a drill sergeant about ballet positions (”Grand plié! GRAND PLIÉ! That is NOT a grand plié!”) while I hide in my office stress-eating has made me wonder: How much of who we are is just... baked in?
Which brings me to...
The Tale of Two Jims (And Why It’s Absolutely Unhinged)
Picture this: It’s 1979. Jim Lewis and Jim Springer are identical twins who were separated at birth. Adopted by different families 40 miles apart in Ohio. Neither family knew the other existed. Both families, completely independently, named their baby Jim.
Already weird, right? But wait. It gets so much weirder.
Fast forward to age 39. Jim Springer starts digging around about his “dead” twin (yeah, they told him his brother died because, casual childhood trauma, no big deal) and discovers he’s actually alive. They, naturally, arrange to meet on the Phil Donahue show because apparently that’s what you did in the ‘70s when you found your long-lost twin.
When they finally meet and start comparing notes, here’s what they discover:
Both Jims:
* Had dogs named Toy (TOY! Of all the dog names!)
* Worked in law enforcement
* Loved woodworking
* Married women named Linda
* Got divorced and both remarried women named Betty
* Had sons named James Allen
I’m sorry, WHAT? James Allen? Both of them? We’re not talking about naming your kid Michael or Chris, these are specific, identical life choices made 40 miles apart by men who had never met.
This isn’t a coincidence. This is the universe trolling us.
Nature vs. Nurture: The Existential Crisis No One Asked For
Here’s where it gets really fascinating (and slightly terrifying). A scientist named Thomas Bouchard brought the Jims into his lab and started studying them. He’d ask them to draw random pictures and, but you saw this coming, they’d draw the same thing. He’d give them personality tests and, yup, nearly identical results.
Bouchard’s hypothesis? That identical twins share 100% of their DNA (compared to the 95% that regular humans share with each other), and some things like preferences, habits, what we name our dogs, and kids, and maybe even who we’re attracted to—might just be hard-coded into our brains from birth.
Which leads to the question that’s been haunting me since my failed breakdancing career in high school: Do we actually have free will, or are we all just running on biological autopilot?
We Need to Discuss (Again): The Porter Family Anger Gene
If there’s one thing I know about my siblings and me, it’s that we all got the same anger operating system installed at birth. When something goes wrong, and even sometimes when things go right, we don’t process it like normal humans. We skip right over “frustration” and land directly on “barely contained rage at the entire universe.”
Example: Our brother Dan once had a complete meltdown because our dad took the rental car to Tim Hortons before Dan could do his morning tea run. To an outside observer, this seems insane. But to those of us with the Porter genetic coding? We completely understood. His schedule was disrupted. His carefully calibrated morning routine, the one nobody else knew existed because he’d never explained it, was ruined.
Jacqueline calls it “The Schedule That Cannot Be Disturbed.” I call it “Just Another Thing I Have To Deal With Now” syndrome.
Here’s the thing though, I didn’t realize this was a family trait until my brother’s partner started pointing it out. “Your brother does that too,” she’d say. “He gets angry when he’s hurt instead of saying it hurts.” And I’d be like, “Wait, doesn’t everyone turn pain directly into rage? That’s not normal?”
Nope. Turns out most people feel pain and process it as pain. We feel pain and immediately want to fight the universe about it.
Is this nature or nurture? Did we learn this from growing up in the same house, or were we just born with anger as our default emotion?
The Three Identical Strangers: When Science Gets Unethical
If the two Jims weren’t enough to make you question reality, let me introduce you to an even more disturbing story: three identical triplets who were deliberately separated at birth as part of a psychological experiment.
That’s right…some researchers in the 1960s decided to separate triplets and place them with families of different socioeconomic backgrounds (blue collar, middle class, and affluent) just to see what would happen. You know, normal, totally-not-horrifying-nor-unethical science stuff.
The triplets eventually found each other in college when two of them kept getting mistaken for each other, and a third saw them on the news and was like, “Wait, those guys look exactly like me.”
They reunited. They were insanely similar. And then they discovered they’d been part of an experiment.
The records of that study are sealed until 2066, which honestly feels like the universe saying, “You’re not ready to know how much of your life is predetermined, and neither are your grandchildren.”
Jacqueline’s Catastrophic Cartwheel: A Case Study in Porter Main Character Syndrome
Speaking of genetics, I need to tell you about the time my Jacqueline decided she was going to be the star of her dance recital. She was eight years old, wearing a blue leotard with fluorescent orange fringe and a paper plate painted blue as a hat. A. paper. plate. hat.
The big finale involved three “star students” doing cartwheels from the back of the stage to the front. Jacqueline, naturally, was chosen as one of them. But here’s where the Porter family genetic coding kicked in: she was so confident, so absolutely certain she was going to nail this, that she forgot to count.
So while the other two girls waited for the music cue, Jacqueline just... cartwheeled by herself to the front of the stage. Alone. Off-beat. On camera.
To this day, she wakes up in cold sweats thinking about it.
And you know what? I have my own version of this story. Grade 10. School cafeteria. Dance contest. I’d been practicing breakdancing in my parents’ basement for three whole months on a gold piece of cardboard. When I heard there was a dance contest, I was like, “This is my moment. This is what I’ve been training for.”
I walked up to that stage with the confidence of someone who’d been breakdancing their entire life. I attempted a head spin. My neck immediately gave up. I flopped onto the stage like a fish, then rolled off and ate my lunch in the gym locker room.
The point? The Porter family is genetically predisposed to:
* Overestimating our abilities
* Seeking public recognition
* Catastrophically failing
* Never, ever learning from it
* Getting angry about it
What This Means for Our Kids (And Why I’m Terrified)
The scariest part about all of this? It’s already showing up in the next generation.
My daughter gets upset when her schedule is disrupted. Jacqueline’s son has Daniel’s exact energy. Ours kids are basically miniature versions of us, complete with the same anxious perfectionism and need to be the best at everything.
We can see ourselves—and each other—in these tiny humans. And sometimes, instead of being like, “Oh, that’s a cute trait,” we’re like, “Oh no. Oh no no no. We need to intervene NOW before this kid turns into full Porter mode.”
But can we actually change it? Or is this stuff just hardwired into our DNA, passed down through generations like a cursed family heirloom?
The Question We’re All Afraid to Ask
After diving into this research, talking about the Jims, the triplets, and our own family patterns, I keep coming back to the same uncomfortable question: How much control do we actually have?
If identical twins separated at birth can end up living virtually identical live: same names for their kids, same types of partners, same careers, same hobbies, what does that say about the rest of us?
Are we all just following invisible scripts written in our DNA? Are our “choices” really choices, or are they just biological programming playing out in real-time?
And more importantly: If my toddler is genetically programmed to be chaos incarnate, is there any point in trying to civilize her before this ballet recital, or should I just accept that she’s going to steal someone’s camera and throw a shoe a the pianist?
(For the record, I’m going with acceptance. It’s easier on everyone.)
The Point…
Even if we are partially programmed by our genetics, even if the two Jims were always going to name their dogs Toy and marry women named Linda, I don’t think that means we’re helpless.
My sister and I both inherited the Porter anger gene. We both have that perfectionist streak. We both want to be the main character in every situation. But we’re also both actively working on it, me with my therapist who I’ve probably paid enough money to that he could retire early, and my sister with her arsenal of caffeinated and late night non-caffeinated drinks, and self-awareness.
The hard-coding might be there, but maybe the point isn’t to delete the code entirely. Maybe it’s about learning to recognize it, understanding where it comes from, and deciding when to override it.
Or, you know, just accepting that we’re all a little unhinged and that’s what makes family gatherings interesting… and contentious.
The (Forced) Big Takeaway (If There Is One)
Nature gave us the blueprint. Our childhood added some modifications. And somehow, we all ended up as adults who can’t go to Tim Hortons without it becoming a whole thing.
But whether it’s genetics or environment or some cosmic joke, one thing is clear: We’re all just trying to figure it out as we go. Sometimes that means naming your dog Toy, your kid James Allen, then divorcing your wife Linda and remarrying a Betty, without knowing your identical twin did the exact same things. Sometimes that means catastrophically failing at a breakdancing competition in front of your entire school. And sometimes that means accepting that your toddler is basically a Tasmanian devil in human form and just rolling with it.
The mystery of the two Jims doesn’t really have an answer. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe the point isn’t knowing exactly where our traits come from? Maybe it’s learning to recognize them in ourselves and each other, laughing about them, and occasionally calling them out when your sibling is being “such a Porter right now.”
The question for you: What traits do you share with your siblings that seem too specific to be coincidence? Are you all weirdly obsessed with the same snacks? Do you all have the same irrational fears? Do you all name your dogs Toy?
Drop a comment. Or don’t, because you’re probably genetically programmed to overthink whether your comment is funny enough, just like us.
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Before you go: If you enjoyed this extremely shallow deep dive into genetic destiny and family chaos, subscribe to The Dreyer Drive podcast. We promise more unhinged stories, existential crises about our childhoods, and sibling banter that will make you feel better about your own family dynamics.
Leave us a 5-star rating if you think we’ve earned it, or a 1-star rating if you’re one of those people who gets angry instead of acknowledging pain (we see you, fellow Porter gene carriers).
And if you have a story about being hard-coded for chaos, we want to hear it.
Next episode: We’re watching Flight of the Navigator and probably having another existential crisis about ‘80s movies. See you then.
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