Kevin’s Story, Part 25, The Window

Let’s back up just a couple years, maybe to 1954, continued from Part 4 posted in April.  News was in the newspaper and on the radio.  Television was becoming more affordable.  You could pick up a brand new 19" black and white set for about $150.00.  The median household income was about $5,000.00 per year, so not everyone was lining up to buy a new set.   However, if you worked for a television shop you got a discount and it wasn’t long before Maggie’s Dad got a new set.  He would have just a few months of TV watching before he went to meet his maker.  By then Maggie had bigger challenges.  She was going to have to share the news that she was in trouble.

Three big brothers, there wives, step Mom, sister, Aunts and Uncle’s.  The consensus of opinion, adoption.  In 1954 girls did not become pregnant.  They went on holiday to some far away place and came back six months later like nothing had happened.  (Sidebar; [I got that from the OJ trial], we did not understand the mental damage that giving up a child for adoption would cause in the 1950's.  It wasn’t until abortion was legalized and we found out about the life long mental damage it caused that we looked at how hard it was to give up a child for adoption.)  You can imagine that I favor anything but abortion.  If you are on Facebook, search for the +9 group.  I should be the poster child because my Mom could have gone the easy way with an abortion or give me up for adoption.  It was much harder on a female then.  The right to chose is much easier the day you chose than living with the choice forever.  If you find it difficult living with a choice you made, please seek help from your church or pregnancy resource center in your area.

I am thankful that Maggie chose life for me.  It would take Maggie another 18 months before she could take me home.  She gave everything she had during those 18 months to make a home.  Back then you did not get a reward check every month for having a child you could not take care of.  Women did not have many options for work that paid enough to support a family.  Maggie found a job as a ward clerk at the Governments Dow Air Field hospital.  She found a one bedroom apartment in downtown Bangor and got to work by bus.  She would break that kid out of foster care and raise him by herself with no help from anybody.

Think back to when you were two years old.  Do you have any memories that far back?  I have one thing I can remember.  I must have been two years old and must have been in trouble.  I was required to stay on Mom’s big bed (I guess that was a time out) and take a nap.  I was not allowed to get off the bed for any reason.  (You may not have the whole picture.  It’s Bangor Maine, in the fall, cold breezy day, maybe in the 40's) Mom puts down the laundry basket, bends over grabs the latch on each side of the window, gives it everything a 5 foot 2 inch girl can give and the window finally comes up about 2 feet.  She grabs the laundry basket, bends over like a girl jumping hurtles, climbs out the window onto the roof.  I don’t ever remember being able to go outside that window and play.  I can’t see my Mom from my position on the bed.  I slowly and quietly lean over, , , , more, , , , a little bit more, , , , can’t see anything, , , more, , , oops.  I jump to my feet and try to get back on the bed but I can’t climb that thing because the bedspread pulls down when I pull up.  (I may have been vertically challenged then but I had plenty of weight) The bedspread on the floor and I have no way up on the bed.  I’m in trouble but, Mom didn’t yell yet???  Well since I’m down on the floor anyway, I slowly and quietly make my way over to the window.  Maybe I could go out and play with Mom.  I slowly peek around the window molding and see my Mom hanging up clothes.  ON THE ROOF?  This looks like a lot of fun so, being the good helper that I am, I throw a leg over the window ledge and the next 60 seconds is probably why I remember the story.

Continued . . . . .

Kevin’s Story, Part 15, The secret

The family decides to divulge the secret.

The unknown?  It’s like a drug!  I don’t mean the 1960's kind of drug, I mean after you get a taste you can’t stop kinda drug.  With each answer, I had a hundred more questions.  You hear stories of people looking for there families to get money, or don’t try to find family because they are afraid they will take there money.  Most, I believe, just want to know about where they came from.  The first thing that popped into mind; “Maybe I have a brother or sister.”  I tend to be more of a steam roller and barge right in shaking hands person.  Not the kinda guy that asks permission to meet the bio-dad, I would knock on the door and say Hi Dad!

I can not imagine what it would be like to have a huge secret entrusted to you.  Mom wanted to ensure that all her children were treated the same.  (They were) Didn’t want anyone to get hurt or feel like less of a family member.  She worked so hard to ensure that each family member would get the same amount spent on them at Christmas.  How about the rest of the family?  How do you not tell stories about the first five years of someone’s life?  Thirty years later when your asked about something, how do you not tell?  How do you carry this secret?  Mom and Dad, now gone for over a decade, it’s time to tell him.

The email comes, you may have a sister!

That changed my life forever.

To Be Continued . . . . . . .

Kevin’s Story, Part 14, The Bio-Dad

So now I have what I call a bio-dad.  And so starts a most fantastic journey into my past - - - -.  Are you wondering about your birth certificate yet?

I did have a name, many don’t have that much.  I tried 411, Google, and could not come up with a viable bio-dad.  There are some great resources.  Cindi’s list is a great starting point for records of any kind.  www.cindislist.com.

One huge challenge for ancestry researchers is too much information.  The bio-dad’s last name is as popular in England as Smith is in America.  When Google returns 1,790,000 possible hits you know you are in trouble.  This is when I started to study how Google works.  It is amazing how you can add a + or a - or even “ ” to get something completely different.  I recently bought a book about using Google as a research tool written by Lisa Loiuse Cooke called The Genealogist’s Google Toolbox.  If that book was available two years ago I could have saved thousands of hours.  You don’t have to be a Genealogist to learn a lot from this book.  For more information about the book look at her blog http://genealogygemspodcast.blogspot.com .

I remember a cousin asked if I wanted all the information? (Refer to part 9)  What does that mean?  Yes, why?  Well, do we want to have everything like past marriages, step brother and sisters?  Of course!  How about un-advertised past families?  We want to get history as correct as we can.  Even if it isn’t the most popular, we should err on the side of correct.  Even your past?  MINE? Of course, as correct as possible.  Pause for a couple months.

To Be Continued . . . . . . .

Kevin’s Story, Part 13, Three Sides To Every Story PG-13 Version

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.