Orphan Art Imitates Life

Why do you think that a movie like orphan got made in the first place?  Do you think that adoptees, orphans, foundlings, whatever you want to call us weren’t perceived as creepy before?  Don’t fool yourself.

Horror movies at their very heart are morality tales.  They work on appealing to our sense of order.  If something isn’t quite right, all hell can break loose.  That is the hook.

Horror works on universal fears.  The thing in the dark, the thing we don’t know, the thing in close proximity.  Orphans always work because they are all of those things.  We come from, if not a bad place, many times an unknown place.  We are born one thing and are expected to be another.  We are by our births and or abandonment, changelings.  That it is a bit creepy cannot be denied.

The movie Orphan is not playing to anything new.  Orphans are perceived as being not right, weird, something that needs to be fixed.  If they were not there would be no such thing as adoption.

I haven’t seen the movie yet, but I’m certain that it doesn’t differ from most other movies of the genre.  It’s good versus evil.  Most likely good intentions versus evil, and that’s the really scary part.  Especially for adoptive parents, I think.  It plays to their most basic fears concerning adoption.  What if good intentions can’t make it right?  What if they fail?  What if the orphan remains an orphan?  What if good really can’t fix evil?

As to the adoptees, the orphans, the foundlings that are upset by this preception, too bad, so sad.  Make no mistake, to some degree you are stuck with it.  We are different.  We do come from an unusual place.  This will always be perceived as somewhat creepy by some.  We do interfer with the general sense of order.

But it is just a movie.  Little Esther is no more real than Frankenstein.  She’s no more real than Damien, than Rhoda, than all the things in the dark.  She’s no more real than the foot steps in the hall that wake you at night.  She is just a figment of our collective imagination.

How powerful can that be?

Bears, Gay Marriage, adoptee Rights, and Bears

We Need To Talk.

Hey, where else can you get adoptee rights, gay marriage, and bears?

Check it out.

It’s a really mean looking bear.  Well, mean looking for one in a zoo anyway.

This Is Weird

Did I ever tell you about the time I met Billy Mays?

Yep.  I met Billy Mays.

Several years ago hubby and I attended a grocery trade show in Lincoln, NE.  It was just the trill ride it sounds like.  Every other industry in the world has trade shows in places like New York, or even Las Vegas, where there is a damn thing to do.  But the grocery industry seems to favor places like Lincoln or Tulsa.  While I suppose it does make doing things like buying chewing gum and detergent seem more interesting by contrast, it’s not something that you look forward to all year.

This trade show went like all the others, everybody wanting to offer me a deal on their fantastic new products that were about to set the consumer world on fire.  People mainly just mill around at these things and wait for the prize drawings.  Nobody at all would show up at these things if there were not prize drawings.

As we wandered through we did notice that there were a lot of people gathering around one booth.  As we got closer we could see that people were acting excited about whatever was going on.  Turns out that Billy Mays was there, live and in person.  Grocers are a simple people who tend to not get out much.

We exchanged a giggle about folks getting so worked up and moved on to the Tide booth.

Later that day as we were walking toward the exit, tired from a full day taking advantage of specials deals, Billy Mays, the man himself, walked up to us.

“Hi, I’m Billy Mays”

“Yes, you are.”, I say.

“I’d like to talk to you about OxiClean.” He conveniently had a container of OxyClean with him.

“OK”  Whatever.

then he launches into the full spiel, the one you saw about 10 million times on TV.  For just my husband and I.  I’m not kidding.

He did not stop.

We finally went over to his booth and ordered some damn OxyClean just to get him to leave us alone.  He also wouldn’t let us leave without an autographed picture.  I had him make it out to my dad, it still hangs up here at the store.  It reads, “Keep it clean, Dad”  signed Billy.

All I’ve got to say is that Billy Mays did work for what he got. Can you imagine running down individual folks at a trade show to sell a few lousy cases of your product?

Yeah, now I’m wondering who is going to be next too.

Oh and watch this, it’s funny…

Billy Mays orders McDonald’s drive thru

It’s Time For Camp

No not THAT camp.

The girls at Grown In My Heart have put together a book about cultural enrichment for adoptees, if they like it or not.

Here’s the official announcement..

Traditionally, a culture camp brings together adopted children from around the world so they can share their experiences with each other. Some camps offer sleep away camp settings while others only offer day camps.

Children and adults learn about culture, history, adoption heritage, and intolerance and character. Most culture camps enrich cultural literacy include physical activities, world music and crafts.  By nature they accommodate different learning styles.

But what happens when your children are just too young to attend a culture camp and are seriously interested in learning about their culture or making friends from the same region or orphanage?

Perhaps your child yearns to know children who “look like them” because they are the only child in their class with dark skin or Asian eyes. This is still common in today’s society no matter how much we try to pretend it is not.

How do you integrate culture into your children’s lives when they don’t want to have anything to do with it? Do you sneak it in with fantastic cooking? Do you read great literature with them? Or do you make them sit down and learn about their history?

We have just the solution for you. Introducing a new resource for adoptive parents: a Culture Camp for Kids; What to do when they can’t do (or they don’t want to)

This e-Book features countless activities suitable for young children from around the world. Once your focus is determined, it’s time to gather supplies. A trip to the library should yield plenty of books (and we have also supplied a fabulous list in our Literature Section).

Price is only $9.95 and you will receive over 25 crafts, 27 recipes, and 18 games. You will also get links to countless cultural books and coloring pages. The best part? A portion of your purchase will go to NDFH, a special needs orphanage in China.

Click on the Add to Cart to go directly to the purchase site.

I Met Michael Jackson. Really. I Did.

It was back when he wasn’t too big a deal.  After the Jackson 5 had kind of cooled off and before Michael’s career as a solo artist really took off.  It must have been 1974.

My family was on vacation at Disney World, we were staying in the Royal Palace Hotel.  Michael and at least some of his brothers were also staying there.  We wouls see them by the pool. One evening my sister and I, being bored with the pool, ventured into the game room to see what was going on.  This was before video games, so about all there were pinball machines and a Foosball table.

There were a few other kids around.  All of us wet from the pool and undoubtedly overstimulated from our day at the theme park.  There was one kid who was taller than the rest of us, other than that, he seemed just like the rest of us.  Just another kid passing some time in the game room with the other kids.  He asked if anybody wanted to play Foosball.

Several of us gathered around and we played a couple of games.  Nothing special.  I knew who he was.  I’d seen him on TV and even had a couple of his records.  One kid did ask if he was Michael Jackson, he said yes, and everyone left it at that.  I think it was because we were in the realm of kids.  You know, away from adults, going by the unspoken, but well understood rules, of kids gathered together.  We were playing and that’s all.

After a couple of games, Michael left.  He thanked us for playing with him and he was off.

Nothing was said among us kids after he left.  We just kept playing Foosball.

Not long after this Michael Jackson would become the pop icon everybody is remembering today.  All the fame, all the craziness, an existence beyond the imagining of most of us.

I was only a casual fan of his music.  I appreciate good pop, but it’s just not my thing.  When I would see him on television, especially in recent years, with all the surgery, all the strangeness, I would wonder what exactly happened.  He really was, at least sometimes, very much like a normal person once.

Today I’m remebering the kid I played foosball with.  He was alright.

The National Council for Adoption: Mothers, Money, Marketing, and Madness, Part 1 – DivineCaroline

Thought I’d share this with you guys.  Very well worth reading.

The National Council for Adoption: Mothers, Money, Marketing, and Madness, Part 1 – DivineCaroline

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I Saw Your Name In the Paper..

In my neck of the woods folks used to say, “I saw your name in the paper..” when you had got in trouble for something.  A speeding ticket, owing back property taxes, receiving an honor from a church or organization of which they weren’t a member, etc.  All that changed in the 1980’s when we finally got cable TV.  From then on it was, “I saw your name on the cable.”

It was a wondrous thing when my town finally got cable, it changed everything.  Up until that time there was only one channel that would come in reliably.  You might be able to get 2 or 3 more if you had the giant tower with the giant antennae with a rotor, sometimes, but not always.  At best recetion was snowy and went in and out.

Oh course we lived a few miles from town so we didn’t get cable.  We would eventually have a giant sattilite dish, but that was years away.  I loved going to my friends houses and watching TV.  I could finally tell what the cast of Saturday Night Live really looked like, and they had 8 channels, all perfectly clear.  That’s right, 8 channels, including HBO.  One was the public access channel where you could see funeral notices, the weather, community events, and who owed back taxes.

My town’s cable system has not changed much over the years.  I think they are up to 13 or 14 channels. They did eventually run the cable out by my folks house, and they have it.   It doesn’t much matter because almost everybody here has 100’s of channels on their  satellite TV anyway.

The access channel is still there, unchanged.  You can still see the same things there.  Yesterday my dad told me that he had seen my name on there.  My first thought was, “Oh what the fuck now?’  Oh course he couldn’t remember what my name was on there for.

Ever since my town has  decided to give failed sheriff’s candidates gainful employment as “code enforcement officers” my only contact with city government has been with the never ending line of blowhards who occupy this position, before they are fired for carrying a sidearm and threatening someone with it, knocking on my door and telling me I have to move a junky car or mow my yard.  I had a feeling my name on the cable channel wasn’t good news.

So I called city hall and explained that my dad (I didn’t have to tell him who he was, surprise, surprise) had seen my name on the cable and I wondered what it was about.  The clerk said, “Well we don’t have any code violators or anybody owing back taxes on there now, I’m not sure.”  (she knew who I was too).  ”It’s on here, let me see what it is when it comes around. There is funeral notices on there now, that wouldn’t be you.”  Obviously.

I wait, try to make small talk, “How’s that new code enforcement officer working out? You know he ran for sheriff in the next county over last election?”  She knew that.

Then she says, “Here it is….you were the Project Pride house of the week.”

I ask, “What is Project Pride?”

“It’s were we recognize people who have really nice yards.”

“Oh..Ok, well thank you.”

Maybe I’m moving up in the world.

Where Was Cynthia Davis Born?

Where Was Cynthia Davis Born?

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Also check out Worst Person In The World…

And this...Free Whores In Missouri

Now why would I post this?

I’ll let you figure it out for yourself.

Oh Mercy

The New York Post has reported that it cost Madonna 19 million dollars to get the go ahead to adopt Chifundo “Mercy” James.

19 million dollars.

Do you know what you can get for 19 million dollars?

1900 diamond encrusted pointy bras from Harry Winston

3,800,000 bottles of Miss Clairol Sunny Blonde

1,900,000 books about Kaballah from Amazon

190,000 limo rides with full entourage and security

12,666 nights at the Grosvenor House in Dubai

8,236,452 “special” spa treatments for “exhaustion”

289,193 chef’s table dinners at Ramsey’s in London

12,360,458 airings of your new record on corporate radio stations

63,333 Crocodile Hermes Birkin hand bags

1 major role in a motion picture released by a name studio, if your name is Madonna.

So nobody tell me that Madge didn’t give up a great deal for her new adopted daughter.  She did. Just look at the above list.  That money could have kept her going for at least 6 months.  I sure hope that little Mercy understands the lengths her new mother went to.

As an adoptee I sure wouldn’t want to have that kind of pressure.  Can you imagine knowing that you were worth the grand total of the contests of your mother’s closet?  That your mother could have loosed the ultimate evil of another starring film role on the world, but adopted you instead?

I wonder how Mercy will feel one day when she is aware of this?  Will she be grateful?  Will she take the humanitarian view and know that she at least saved the public from 19 million dollars worth of her mother’s talent?  Will this occur to her at all?

Considering that children of celebrities have what seems to be about a 30% chance of turning out anything like normal, adopted or not.  I’m hoping that she will decide to honor her own adoption by spending an amount equivalent to the cost of her adoption  establishing a breed of glow in the dark llamas to make her designer line of sweaters out of. It would make about as much sense as anything in her life has to this point.

Most adoptees have been asked, always indelicately, how much they cost.  It just seems to be something that comes up when you find yourself discussing adoption with some idiot.  I didn’t cost much.  I’m from the days when paperwork was kept to a minimum and babies didn’t cost much.  I think I came in around the $300 dollar mark.  Heck they were practically giving babies away.

Things have changed since then.  I read somewhere that the average cost of an adoption is around $30,000 these days.  Imagine telling someone that.

Now imgaine this…

The New York Post has reported that it cost Madonna 19 million dollars to get the go ahead to adopt Chifundo “Mercy” James.

19 million dollars.

Do you know what you can get for 19 million dollars?

1900 diamond encrusted pointy bras from Harry Winston

3,800,000 bottles of Miss Clairol Sunny Blonde

1,900,000 books about Kaballah from Amazon

190,000 limo rides with full entourage and security

12,666 nights at the Grosvenor House in Dubai

8,236,452 “special” spa treatments for “exhaustion”

289,193 chef’s table dinners at Ramsey’s in London

12,360,458 airings of your new record on corporate radio stations

63,333 Crocodile Hermes Birkin hand bags

1 major role in a motion picture released by a name studio, if your name is Madonna.

So nobody tell me that Madge didn’t give up a great deal for her new adopted daughter.  She did. Just look at the above list.  That money could have kept her going for at least 6 months.  I sure hope that little Mercy understands the lengths her new mother went to.

As an adoptee I sure wouldn’t want to have that kind of pressure.  Can you imagine knowing that you were worth the grand total of the contests of your mother’s closet?  That your mother could have loosed the ultimate evil of another starring film role on the world, but adopted you instead?

I wonder how Mercy will feel one day when she is aware of this?  Will she be grateful?  Or will she just pull another bottle of Cristol out of her Hermes Birkin and belch when asked?  Will she take the humanitarian view and know that she at least saved the public from 19 million dollars worth of her mother’s talent?  Will this occur to her at all?

Considering that children of celebrities have what seems to be about a 30% chance of turning out anything like normal, adopted or not.  I’m hoping that she will decide to honor her own adoption by spending an amount equivalent to the cost of her adoption  establishing a breed of glow in the dark llamas to make her designer line of sweaters out of. It would make about as much sense as anything in her life has to this point.

This post firast appeared at..

Grown In My Heart

In The Den Of Theives

Here I’ve gone and wandered off again.  For those of you who know me, I’m sure you are not surprised.  If you want to read about my further adventures in Adopteeland you can check me out here.

Grown In My Heart

Yeah, yeah, I know, thew place is lousy with adoptive parents.  Relax, Claudia is over there too.  Please direct all complaints to the comments section where they will be ignored.

I’ll still be here.  Let’s face it, there are just somethings that I can’t really say anywhere else.

Like this…

Somebody told me that I didn’t look like an adoptee the other day.

What the heck is an adoptee supposed to look like?

I have a feeling I know.

I think I don’t look like an adoptee because I’m much too tall.  We are supposed to be big eyed waifs looking up to the world for help.  Like this…

Well we are not supposed to be so furry, but you get it.

You will notice that the kitten isn’t very tall and could easily be trod upon.

Once you look like it might be a problem to squash, you no longer look like an adoptee.

I’m thinking about that one.