Family histories are shaped by those telling the stories. Do you know what happened in the past? Who really slept with who? Why is my hair a different color than my parents? Why do I have a huge nose and my brothers and sisters do not? Did the mail man have a big nose? Did the milk man have red hair? Very interesting.
What is on your birth certificate? I’m not talking about a record of live birth. Those are generated by those telling the stories. Is your birth certificate correct? When asked who was the father, did Mom say Joe the Barber? Was Joe the Barber really the father or was it Jimmy the ticket taker at the Century Theater?
When the story slipped out (at 45 years old) that I was adopted, I pulled out my wallet and read the names of my mother and father. I wasn’t adopted. After a little research a couple years ago I found out that when you are adopted they make a new birth certificate listing the adopting parents. Oh! So I write to the state of Maine and ask about my records. I have to have a certified copy of my birth certificate. (No the President doesn’t have one of those.) I send away and get a certified copy that matches the one in my wallet. (Yes, it’s the same one) It just so happens that two years ago Maine allowed you to gain access to your real birth certificate. I send a petition, with my certified copy to Maine. That was a long wait. The names do not match.
To Be Continued . . . . . . .
Sidebar; Just in case you were wondering what I thought about the truth being withheld, I will tell you. Any young lad can become a bio-dad, it takes a real man to become a father. It takes a dedicated family man to adopt a child and treat them as he does his own. I was blessed to have one of each. Blessed? You’ll just have to keep reading to find out how.