In Pace Requiescat

Would I like a glass of wine?

Sure, I’ll give it a try.  What have you got?

A red?   Reds aren’t usually my thing, but since you say it’s a rare vintage, pour me a glass.

Interesting color, I thought it would be darker, more like port.  There’s just a hint of green. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.  Is it old?  Has it been your cellar for years?

Aged in hemlock, you say.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.  Interesting.  I suppose that would account for the color.

I smell blackberries and chocolate, and something else.  It’s not quite smoky, It’s more like ashes.  And something metallic, the smell of copper.

OK, I’ll take a sip.

Oh, I think this has gone off.

You’ve opened the bottle before?  You just can’t do that.

Vintages like this must be taken care of very carefully, kept from the light in the very back of the cellar.  You should never disturb something like this.  Once it is brought into the light, touches the air, you must drink it all then.  It can’t be recorked and brought out over and over.

I suggest that you throw it out and give the bottle a decent burial.  It will do you no good to drink it.


I Know A Secret

Well, I don’t know the secret, but this dumb bitch seems to…

Actually she doesn’t. She’s now claiming that the whole thing was bullshit, a fable in her words. I have to agree that it was shit.

Carry on.

Leathery Bag Outs Trans-racial Adoptee

Irony. Loads of irony here. In order to prove a point, texassadlerfan has outed a trans-racial adoptee.

Questions are already being asked all over adoption related message boards as to who this mysterious adoptee could be. Since it’s not clear that this person even knows that they were adopted, and certain (if texasadlerfan is to be believed) is of African American heritage, I suppose that we’re no the only ones wondering.

“The young driver does not know any parents, other than those who raised him so lovingly, and he has no idea of the situation of his birth. His family thought it best to allow him to function in a selective, exclusive, more open world that may not be so accepting of him if his social delineations were known…”

But according to texasadlerfan, it’s not a big deal….

Of course it doesn’t matter, and there really is no need to make an issue of the truth, I suppose. One might wonder, sometimes, as do the adoptive parents of the NASCAR driver, what people would really think if they knew the handsome young quarterback and father of the child who became their own so many years ago, was Black.

I beg to differ, the truth is a big deal. Whoever this driver is has been lied to all of his life. And the truth is going to come out now, in a very public way. That’s not good. The circumstances of one’s birth should only be for public consumption if the person concerned wants it that way. These things should not be brought into general release by a busybody wannabe sports reporter.

Texasadlerfan, with her little preachy, gossipy post has brought up both late discovery and trans-racial adoption issues. These are two of the most painful and complicated issues that an adoptee can deal with. Just imagine not knowing that you were adopted or anything of your own heritage, and that these facts were used with such disregard, in such a frivolous way by this woman.

Make no mistake, these kind of issues can cause feelings of anger and betrayal in adoptees and tear families apart, as all that relationships were based on are lies. Yes, this driver’s parents are to blame for not being honest with their son, but this woman had absolutely no place speaking of this publicly. Adoptees who have learned about their orgins later in life express great frustration at the fact that everyone else knew the circumstances of their birth and no one told them. They feel betrayed by everyone.

The truth is important.

I can only hope that when this person discovers the truth they find the help they will need to make sense of it. It is not an easy thing.

Shame on you texasaderfan, you have no idea what you’ve done.

Fathers Day

Ah Fathers Day,  brought to you by Craftsman Tools, Hallmark Cards, and the American Necktie Marketing Institute.  That one day when dads reign supreme.  The day when no one messes up the Sunday paper and mom serves dad’s favorite for dinner.  We couldn’t have mom using up all of our discretionary gift giving income, now could we?

As an adoptee this day should be big for me.  I have two fathers.  I should be concerned with how I’m going to divide my between my two dads.  Be rushing around trying to find just the right present for both of them, wondering if I can get away with getting them both the same thing.  But it’s not quite like that for me.

As my constant readers are aware, I’ve got a whole lot of dad in my adoptive father.  To describe him as a strong personality is an understatement.  He’s hard to buy a gift for.  One can only have so many flashlights shaped like a large mouth bass and lifetime subscriptions to UFO Journal (they ARE among us).  I’m always at a loss for Fathers Day gifts for him, but I’m at even more of a loss when it comes to my natural father.

I have no idea if my natural dad is into fishing, UFOs, or the Chicago Cubs.  I don’t know him.  There was a time that I thought I knew who he had been.  I was told by my natural sister (mom’s side obviously) that he was a man that had died many years ago.  After my n-sister found that I had contacted his family, I was told that it couldn’t have possibly been him, and in this she was honest.  Upon further questioning, all I could discover is that he was most probably “some guy named Eldon”.  Apparently “some guy named Eldon” had a family and they must be protected at all costs, though she didn’t know him well enough to recall his last name.

My sister’s devotion to this guy named Eldon is incredible.  I cannot imagine depth of feeling involved that would make you choose Eldon and his family over a blood relative.  All I can come up with is this Eldon must be a hell of a guy.  Heck, I’m feeling kind of left out, he is my dad after all.  If Eldon has the power to inspire someone who can’t even remember his last name to silence for over 40 years, I think he might be able to handle meeting me.   Maybe if Sis thinks this would come as too much of a shock for this guy named Eldon, I should inform her that I am fully trained in CPR.

I can’t see any other reason why Sis would be protecting Eldon.  It couldn’t possibly be about appearances, after all she had nothing to do with any of it.  She surely couldn’t be so embarrassed about her bastard sister to think that it would reflect on her so many years later.  She couldn’t be thinking that Eldon and his family are more important than me.   I’m pretty sure Eldon didn’t do anything for her, other than make a big impression.  She couldn’t be that self conscious or uncaring could she?

I’m an optimist, and like to think the best of people, so I’m going to go with my “this guy named Eldon must be a hell of a guy” theory.

I wonder what Eldon would like for Fathers Day?

A Day For Adoptee Fights

I suppose I should say something about the whole Bastard Nation living up to there name concerning the New Orleans Protest, but truth be told, I never much gave a shit for them anyway. It’s all been said. I think it’s safe to say, after this latest display of incompetence with a twist of arrogance, nobody else that matters gives a shit for Bastard Nation either.

You’d rather hear about what my adoptive folks have been up to anyway.

A-mom and pop stopped by the store as they were headed to visit some family graves last weekend. Mom was in her perennial pink pant suit, looking very much like the big pink peonies that bloom this time of year. Dad was wearing one of his “better sport shirts”, so I was pretty sure they were planing to make a day of it.

They were in full “lively discussion” mode.

Mom: (minus her pine scented air freshener spray, spring is in the air, after all) We need to get some flowers for your folks graves.

Pop: (looking desperately for a place to hide out and keep a Marlboro company) We don’t need any damn flowers. They just steal them anyway.

Mom: Who would steal flowers off your folks grave? Who are they? Nobody disliked your folks.

Pop: They all steal flowers.

Mom: Who are they, Bob? And why are they targeting your parents grave?

Pop: They steal from everybody’s graves and put them on their own graves.

Mom: How do they put them on their own graves? You’re just a clown, Bob.

At this point they spot me, the magazine rack did not provide sufficient cover.

Mom: We’re going to decorate your father’s folks graves and he thinks someone will steal the flowers.

Me: Oh, (as if their previous conversation couldn’t be heard all over the store) I don’t think they’ll steal the flowers.

Pop: Yes, they will, they just wait for you to leave and they take them.

Me: Why would they be targeting your folks graves? Everybody liked Nanny and Grandpa. (Sometimes I just can’t help myself).

Mom: Your father thinks they put them on their own graves.

Me: How could they do that?

Mom: They are apparently ghosts.

Pop: No they put them on their relatives graves.

Me: Ghosts put them on their relatives graves?

Pop: No! Other people do.

Mom: Well, that makes more sense. Ghosts put them on their relatives graves.

I give a knowing nod.

Pop: No people steal them and put them on their dead relatives graves.

Me: Well that does makes more sense. I have a ton of memorial flowers, pick out a couple.

Pop: No, someone will just steal them.

Me: What’s it matter, you put them there for yourself anyway. It’s not like you are going to come back and pick them up anyway. The cemetery just throws them away after Memorial Day anyway.

Mom: Yeah why does it matter? Just pick something out.

About this time Pop heads to the bathroom for a cigarette and Mom gets interested in the new flavors of diet soda in the case. I get distracted by a customer and the next thing I know I see Pop’s truck pulling out of the lot. About five minutes later the truck pulls back in, and here they come.

Mom: You were just trying not to get any flowers, weren’t you Bob?

Pop: They’ll just steal them anyway.

I grab a couple of memorial arrangements and head out and put them in truck. Mom and Pop continue around the store, discussing the rate of flower theft. I went to the back.

A few minutes later, I get a call. It’s Mom on the cell phone. “You did put a couple of flower arrangemnts in the back of the truck, didn’t you?”, she screams (she still thinks you have to scream into the cell phone).

“Yes mom I did.”