No gushy greeting card stuff here..
Check out the rest of the blog for some good honest insight too.
No gushy greeting card stuff here..
Check out the rest of the blog for some good honest insight too.
Why is it that adoptees records always seem to catch on fire? The phenomenon disturbs me deeply.
I don’t know how many times an adoptee has told me that someone has told them that their records burned. In fact it happens so often, I wonder if we a dealing with some type of recurring event.
I was told my own records burned. A very nice lady told me that the hospital I was born in had burned to the ground in 1968. The thing is, I don’t live that far from that hospital, I had driven by it many times. It appeared to me to have been standing for at least fifty years. Never the less, I searched newspaper records and didn’t find a thing. I saw reports of a couple of house and barn fires in my birthplace that year, but not the hospital.
Considering I was born a town of about 2000 people, one would think that a hospital fire would be a big event. I know in my own little town it was news for weeks when a cigarette left in a stack of Styrofoam cups ignited the Gas And Grub convenience store, it made the TV news and everything. But small town newspapers are more known for wedding announcements and high school sports scores than hard edge reporting, So called up the local library and asked the lady who answered the phone if there had been a fire at the hospital.
She had been born in the same hospital as me, and was about ten years older, she didn’t recall a fire. Her Uncle had been the Volunteer Fire Dept. cheif during the 60’s and 70’s and she promised to ask him for me. I called her back the next week, he didn’t know about any fire at the hospital. He had, in great detail, described a fire in a hatchery that happened about that time, but we agreed that probably wasn’t helpful.
I called the nice lady at the hospital back. Under questioning she revealed it wasn’t the WHOLE hospital, just the records room. Well maybe not the WHOLE records room, just a cabinet. Maybe it was just the birth records. She reallty wasn’t sure.
This would be almost amusing, if I were the only one, but I’m not. Not by a long shot. I can only conclude that something else is at work here. As we all know, none of these people would lie, and may, in fact, be in danger if they handle this records regularly. Imagine if your job involved working with object that appear completely safe, but had potential to spontaneously burst into flame at any moment. Wouldn’t you want to know?
The people that work at hospitals, adoption agencies, and State departments of health, need to be warned. They could so easily be disfigured or even killed by burning adoption records. There needs to be some type of safety procedure put into place. At the very least all adoption records should bear a sticker warning the handler that they are flammable.
If the government was aware of this potential danger to it’s employees, I have no doubt that they would take quick action.
That is why I ask you to alert your state and local authorities of this danger, immediately. Ask them how many more people need to be hurt by incendiary adoption records.
I’m a bit of a weird fiction and sci-fi fan. I’m not one of those “the force be with you” saying, convention attending, Dungeons and Dragons playing, super geeks, but I like a good eerie story. I’m a fan of the movies and even the very rare weird television shows that come along about once a decade. In the last couple of weeks I’ve caught a few re-runs of The X-Files on SciFi. That got me thinking.
Adoptee tales and weird tales have a lot in common, especially the ones about government secrecy. Trust No One and The Truth Is Out There flash in the opening of the X-Files, sounds familiar to me somehow.
Okay, this is where I’m going to get really weird on you:
The Roswell crash of 1947 is one of the most debated and least well explained incidents in US history. For those of you not familiar with the event, here it is in a nutshell.
In 1947 something crashed in the dessert outside of Roswell, New Mexico. The local Sherriff’s initial report was that of a alien ship, with survivors. Supposedly pictures were taken and pieces of the craft were picked up both by local ranchers and the Sherrif’s Department, then the Feds showed up, and everything changed. The government released several contradictory reports as to what exactly had gone down, first denying it happened at all, one of our experimental planes, a Russian spy plane, a weather balloon, were all used. There are reports that eye witnesses to the wreckage were threatened into silence. The site was cleaned up quickly and the controversy has raged ever since.
There is no doubt something happened, the government even tried to explain it away just a few years ago by showing a silver balloon and two mannequins. Something about testing ejection seats in the fighter planes of the day. Nobody bought it.
There was a lot of nuclear testing going on in the New Mexico desert in 1947. What if Carl Sagan was right? What if we are being watched by other beings in relation to how we will handle technology that can destroy our Earth? What if there was a recon mission to our planet in 1947? What if it crashed? What if there were survivors?
What happened to them?
Simple they were put up for adoption.
Think about it, it’s the perfect way to hide them. They were given some brain washing drug and turned over to waiting wholesome All-American adoptive parents. Sure they were a bit funny looking, but that was explained away as their being of “mixed” heritage.
A birth certificate was issued with the adoptive parents name on it. Their records were sealed and no one was ever to know any better about their heritage. They effectively never existed before the act of their adoption.
They could be about there right now, maybe reading this blog. They may or may not know that they were adopted. They may have tried to search and come up with nothing.
This would go a long way in explaining why some states refuse to open adoption records before a certain date.
They are among us.
If you’re interested the the daily life of a small town grocer, your prayers are answered. I’ve started another blog about my work and all the fun I have there. Take a look if you’d like, if you don’t, trust me, I’ll understand.
Exactly how stupid can people be?
I am constantly fucking amazed at the level of just plain dumbness one person can posses. I run a grocery store, we ran out of grapes yesterday. I told my checkers that we were out of grapes yesterday. I told one of my checkers we were out of grapes AGAIN not an hour ago. She just called on the PA system and asked me to bring a bag of grapes to the front.
I had to walk all the way to the front to tell this moron that we were still out of grapes.
Does she think I’m running a vineyard in the backroom of the store?
Does she think that I have a red phone under a cake dish on my desk connected to the California Grape Growers Association for these kinds of emergencies?
Does she think I have a spotlight back here that shines the Grape Signal to the California Grape Growers Association?
Is she under the belief that I’m just like Batman, but with grapes?
Does she think that I’m living a double life as both a grocer and some type of grape procuring super hero?
I wonder who my sidekick is suppose to be? The potato chip delivery guy?
Is she convinced that I have a tricked out 1965 Bonneville hidden the store called the Grapemobile? Is it green, red, or black? Possibly a combination of these colors? Is it seedless?
Oh, fuck me.
For your approval, my submission to Chicken Soup for the Adopted Soul:
Helen was four years old, she loved her Mother more than anyone else, even her Father. Her Mother was beautiful and made her feel loved and special. When her Mother smiled at her, Helen felt like the best little girl in the world. Helen and her Mother were together almost all the time. Helen helped her Mother with chores, they played together, read books, and watched Sesame Street.
Helen loved her Father very much too. One of the best times of day was when he would come home for dinner. She would hear his truck pull into the driveway, and go running to hide behind the bookshelf by the door. She would wait for him to come through the door and jump into his arms. Daddy would hold her close and give her a kiss on the cheek, he would tell her she was his best girl. He always carried her into the dining room and sat her in her chair. Then he would hug Mother, and sit down to eat. Mother and Daddy would talk about their days and Daddy would ask Helen what she had learned that day. She would tell him about the new words she had learned to read, or about the animals she saw on Wild Kingdom.
Bedtime was Helen’s favorite time. She would brush her teeth, put on her pajama’s, and get into bed, waiting for either Mommy or Daddy to tuck her in. When Daddy came he would read to her. She liked it when Daddy read to her, especially if the books were about dogs. Helen wanted a puppy for her next birthday. But the greatest times were when Mommy would tuck her in. Mommy always told her stories, without books. She told Helen about when she was a little girl, or about the adventures of her four uncles. Helen enjoyed all these stories, but Mommy had one story that she loved more than all the others, the story of how Helen had come to be Mommy and Daddy’s little girl. Helen always asked to hear that story, sometimes Mommy wanted to tell a different story, but when she would agree to tell it, Helen would snuggle down in bed and listen to every word like she was hearing it for the first time.
Mommy would sit close and begin:
A long time ago Daddy and I got married. We loved each other very much and wanted to have a baby. We tried and tried, but nothing happened. After a few years we decided we wanted a baby so much we would adopt one.
We went and talked to the ladies that let the children be adopted. They asked us lots of questions and they decided we could have a baby. We had to wait a long long time. We waited so long we didn’t think there was a baby for us, then one day after we had almost given up, the phone rang. It was the adoption lady and she said that they had a baby for us. She said it was a little girl and asked if that would be all right. We said a little girl was fine.
The very next day, Daddy and I drove a long ways to the hospital. They took us to a room full of babies and showed us the cutest one there, it was you. They let us hold and feed you, but we had to wait two more days to bring you home.
We went home and got your room ready. We were so excited to finally have a baby of our own. Those were the two longest days we could remember. Finally the day came that we could take you home, Daddy, Me, and Grandma Jean drove to the hospital again. The nurses had you all ready to go, they were sad to see you leave, but were glad that you were going with us. Daddy carried you out of the hospital and I held you on the car ride, Grandma sat in the backseat. She didn’t get to hold you until we got home.
You’ve been our own little girl ever since.
Helen always had good dreams when Mommy told the story.
Once she had asked Mommy if all babies come from the hospital. Mommy said, no not all babies do, some grow in their Mommy’s tummy’s but they usually stay in the hospital a few days when they are first born. Mother went on to say that Helen hadn’t grown in her tummy, but had grown in her heart.
One day Helen had to stay at the neighbor’s house while Mommy went to the doctor. Helen liked to go the the neighbor’s, Laura lived there, she was twelve and was nice to her. She wanted to be like Laura when she was a big kid. Helen had so much fun she didn’t even realize that she missed her Mother until she came to pick her up.
Mommy was very happy. She told Helen that she had a big surprise for her and Daddy tonight. Mommy sang to herself as she made dinner, she didn’t usually do that, and Daddy came home early, Helen didn’t even have time to hide. When they sat down, Mommy said she had news. She said she was pregnant. Helen didn’t know what pregnant meant, but Daddy jumped up and hugged Mommy. Mommy explained that a while from now, after it started to get cold outside again, Helen would have a new brother or sister. Daddy said it would be even better than a puppy. Helen wanted a little brother or sister to play with, she was happy.
Things began to change, Helen helped Mommy paint the guest room, they had to wear old clothes and she got paint on her nose. They painted it yellow because they didn’t know if it would be for a boy or a girl. When Momy’s friends came over they asked how Mommy was feeling and always asked Helen if she was looking forward to having a brother or sister. She always said yes.
Them Mommy started to get fat. Mommy told Helen that it was because the baby was growing in her tummy. Mommy said that she would have t go to the hospital soon, Helen would stay with Grandma, and she and Daddy would come home with the baby. Helen asked if she had grown in someone’s tummy. Mommy said, yes she had grown in someone’s tummy, but she had loved her so much that she gave Helen to Mommy and Daddy because they wanted a baby so badly. Helen had never thought about growing in another peron’s tummy before, she had thought she just came from the hospital.
Mommy got even bigger and people started to come over and bring presents for the baby, but almost never for Helen. Helen worried that everybody would love the baby more than her because it grew in Mommy’s tummy. Everybody seemed so busy she never got to ask about them still loving her. Sometimes she thought about it before she went to sleep and worried that they would take her back to the hospital.
Then one day, Daddy came home from work early, he looked scared, they all got in the car and Helen stayed at the neighbor’s house until Grandma came to pick her up. They told her that Mommy and Daddy would be back in two days with her new bother or sister. Helen had fun at Grandma’s, they baked cookies and Grandma told her stories about when she was a baby. Grandma also told her that she would have to help Mommy with the new baby.
Helen got to sleep in the big girl’s bed in Garndma’s guest room. Grandma woke her up very early and said that she had a new baby sister. They would go to the hospital soon so she could see her. Helen had breakfast and Grandma helped her put on her church dress to go to the hospital. She told her that she waouldn’t get to see Mommy, but Daddy would come and show her her new sister. Helen wanted to see Daddy, but was afraid they would leave her at the hospital.
It was a long drive to the hospital in Grandma’s big old car. When they got there Daddy was waiting. He picked Helen up and hugged her, he told her how much he had missed her, and that he loved her. He sat her down and took her by the hand, he led her to a room that was inside, but was all windows. Helen was too short to see in, so Daddy picked her up. The room was full of babies.
He pointed to the cutest one and said that was her new sister. Daddy said that he loved both of them more than anything in the world. That was when Helen knew that all babies do come from the hospital, and grow in your heart.
Sorry just had to get that out.
I’m so full of shit.
Somebody lied to me. This time it wasn’t for my own good. They didn’t lie to me directly, they did it in the most underhanded way, they convinced some one else that they were telling me the truth. That is the greatest deception of all.
The person that told me these things believed what she told me. Why shouldn’t she? The person who told her these things should have been working in her best interest, she was even paid to do so. It was a classic con. The liar had something this woman wanted more than anything, she took her into her confidence. She said that she was revealing more than she really should, she didn’t tell most people this much. The things she told her were plausible, the fact that they weren’t pleasant made them that much more believable.
It was a great story, it had a beginning, middle, and end. Each character was painted fully enough that the listener could, if not understand, at least accept, their motivations. Every plot point fit well within the time and atmosphere of the story. There was conflict and a resolution of sorts. It was a good lie.
The thing is, good lies only work once. Any confidence man will tell you once you’ve bled your mark, it’s time to get out of town. Sure, you can run the same con again, you just have to be sure that your marks will never met. Our liar didn’t take into account how small a town we all live in now.
I’m not sure what disgusts me more, the fact that this woman told such a cruel lie, or the fact she didn’t care enough to make up a new lie for each of her marks. The very thought that she could let people come to her needing the truth more than anything, tell them she had it, and then decide which lie to use makes me ill.
How many stories did she have? 2? 3? 8? Were there stories for men, women? Did how they looked looked or the tone of their voice influence which story they would get? Did she save special stories for ones she favored or especially disliked?
I’d like to ask the liar.
I’ve sought truth on the behalf of others. I’ve been successful, and I’ve failed, but I’ve never lied. I couldn’t betray a trust like that.
I just don’t understand.
I have a whole lot of adoptive parents hoping that their prescious little ones don’t turn out like me. You know, I don’t think there’s too much chance in that happening.
Attitudes like mine don’t come overnight, it took me darn near 40 years to come up with this one. It took time, nuturing, and determination. As easily as things are going to come to these APs kids, I just don’t think they’ll have time.
As we know these kids will sail through life, how could they not? Their loving adoptive parents have only the best intentions, we know those are always rewarded. When you are a straight A student, captain of the soccer team, and giving recitals at Carnagie Hall, there just isn’t time to become dis-satisfied with your situation, or wonder what could have been. Besides those things could dissappoint adoptive parents and nobody wants to dissappoint the greatest parents in the world.
We know these kids can’t stay by their adoptive parents sides forever, but I doubt they’ll have much trouble when they hit that ivy league university, they just won’t have time to use the college years for self-discovery. Dual degrees in law and medicine, even if are a genius, take a lot of time. They will be busy preparing themselves as a fertility expert and adoption lawyer. That’s a lot on a young person’s plate.
Then, of course they’ll met that special someone, most likely a corporate CEO who donates his whole salary to UNICEF, or possibly a heir to a royal house of Europe. What with the wedding at St. Patrick’s chathedtral and the reception for 1000 at Tavern On The Green, they be caught in a whirlwind.
Producing an heir also has it’s stresses. There won’t be much time to think when the perfect grandchildren start to arrive. Besides they will be so proud to present you with these children. How better for the perfect adoptee to show appeciation for their parents? Then of course they will start the cycle all over again, the soccer team, the concerts at Carnagie Hall, the dual degrees. A happy go lucky dynsaty that has never taken a moment for self examination, wonder, or one moment that was not perfectly happy, satisfied, and without fear.
Well, that is as likely to happen, as the precious adoptee should turn out like me.
I’m pretty unique, I’m pretty smart, and darn it, people like me.
I’m also pretty happy most of the time.
I wonder if some of those adoptive parents might want to reconsider.
Consumer protection agencies are involved in most facets of our lives these days. I wonder if adoptees should come with warning labels. Considering that we have become a product for public consumption, it might be in the best interest.
There could be label for those adopted at birth, specifying that there was no testing done on this particular model and no guarantees are offered or implied. One for children from foster care that specifies that some testing had been done, there is a guarantee, but consumer rights vary from state to state. Country of origin labeling would also be useful.
With the use of labeling consumers could not say that they were not warned. Use and care labels would also be helpful:
Hand Wash-Warm Water
Feed FDA Approved Foods Only
Do Not Expose To Temperature Extremes Without Proper Protection
And of course, a warning label:
Your new adoptee is a self learning product, if not carefully cared for your adoptee can develop a mind of it’s own. To avoid this expose only to proper thinking. If you should develop problems with your adoptee, reprogramming is recommended. Consult your Yellow Pages for the nearest service center.
I loved Ophelia: Forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum.
Hamlet, 5. 1
I’ve always had a soft spot for tragic women. In my younger years, I fancied that I might become one, but it was not to be.
I remember growing up in my small town, I would see the ladies with their big Loretta Lynn hair, and baby blue Lincoln Continentals and think they must be like Princesses. I would remark on their beauty and style only to have my Mother say something to the effect of how “they weren’t our kind of people”. I didn’t understand, they always seemed nice enough to me.
Mother knew something I didn’t. When I asked about my first Mom, I was told that she was probably a teenager that was too young to raise me. Quite believable and I accepted it without question. It was not so, and Mother knew it.
My first Mother was 36 years old when I was born. She was raising four other chldren and had been married three times at that point. I was not the child of the man she was then married to, nor the child of the man she would marry right after my birth. There was a man listed as my Father, but first Mom knew something I didn’t.
Two women who couldn’t be more different, they both lied to me, for different reasons. one thought I’d just accept the story without ever questioning. The other, somehow suspecting that I would have a questioning nature, offered a half truth.
It is conjecture, of course, to say I can account for the motivations of either of these two women. I don’t feel that I know the hearts of either, but this is how I see it.
My a-Mother lied to me for all the reasons that a-Mothers always lie. Her own fears , self-delusion, and dread of what I might turn out to be. There is little wonder that my mention of the more free living ladies about our town made her nervous, surely she thought my first Mom must be one of them. Nothing in the world would frighten her more than thinking I might become a Virginia Slim smoking, big haired, tight sweater wearing, Lincoln driver. It was against everything she stood for.
My first Mom lied for all the reasons that first Moms lie. She didn’t want to be found, she thought I might hate her, and she feared what I might turn out to be. I’m sure she expected that I would be a Talbots wearing, country club joining, Republican, mini-van driver. I’m not sure this would frighten her, but I do know she knew these type of women did consider her “not their kind of people”.
They both underestimated me. It never occured to either that I would turn out somewhere in between, no matter what they told me. It just seems that a lot of un-necessary bullshit could have been avoided if either had any faith in me, or themselves.