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.

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

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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.

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.

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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…

sad_kitten

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.

Trinkets Of My Ingratitude

A conversation with a friend brought up an interesting image. She remarked,  as an adopted little angel, I must require a halo welded to my sweet head.  I replied that I thought that I could pull it off if I could wrap it with the trinkets of my ingratitude.  

I could just see myself as the towheaded angel that I once was, clad in a white robe, resplendent with my golden halo, wrapped in jingling sparkly charms representing all of my sins.   It reminded me of the charm bracelet that I had as a child that represented all my virtues.  

My charm bracelet was sterling silver, and so were the charms, that was pretty impressive in those days.  It was my first piece of real jewelry.  I had a charm with a musical note because I was taking piano lessons.  A charm with a four leaf clover  because I was lucky.  There was a charm with a little girl carrying books because I went to school.

My adoptive mother bought me the charm bracelet at the local jewelry store.  This was a place of wonder, full of grown up things that you had to be very careful around.  They had glass shelves full of fancy glass vases and candy dishes in beautiful colors I’d never seen before. Lite from the bottom,   I thought they were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.  They had long cases filled with gold and silver and gems that looked like contents of the treasure chests in my books.  There was a display of gold paged Bibles with illustrations in glowing colors that seemed to have had to have come from heaven.  

We didn’t buy much in the jewelery store, my adoptive mom liked practical things.  But one day mom decided that I needed a charm bracelet.  We walked into the jewelry store, past the lite up shelves that rattled ever so slightly with our footsteps, threatening to send the precious objects to the floor.  I felt butterflies in my stomach  and was relived to get to the back of the store without incident.

A woman that seemed so old that she might break if touched showed us a tray of silver bracelets.  There were so many to choose from, delicate ones with thin links, more substantial ones with heavy links, and one made up of delicate links fused together, I chose that one.   Then there were the charms, hundreds of them, made to represent everything I could think of, and some I couldn’t figure out.  My mother told me that we would pick out a few charms today and I could have new ones when I earned them.  I got the musical note and the four leaf clover that day.  The old lady took the bracelet to the back, attached the charms and wrapped it up on a satin lined box.  I wasn’t as nervous passing the rattling glass shelves with my little box on the way out.  

I was only to wear the bracelet on special occasions and to church.  Mom and I put it safely in my jewelry box that played Fur Elise and had the ballerina that spun in front of a mirror when opened.  

I earned more charms, a little Scottie dog when I got a puppy, a rose zircon was a birthday gift.  My bracelet would jingle on my wrist now.  I wore it to my cousin’s wedding, and out to dinner at The Green Circle, a very fancy restaurant where they served Shirley Temples.  I always wore it to church.   

There was one charm that I wanted more than anything.  It was a Bible, that had a little peephole you could look into and see the Lord’s Prayer.  It was like magic.  Mother told me I could have it if I memorized the Lord’s Prayer.  

It wasn’t easy, it took a while, and there was some controversy over if I was to forgive sins or trespasses, but I did it.  I memorized the Lord’s Prayer and got that charm.  

I was quite the hit at Sunday school that week. Nobody else had ever seen anything like that charm.  I refused to remove the bracelet, fearing it’s loss, and made everyone peer into the little Bible while I held up my wrist. My Sunday school teacher was even impressed.  

I couldn’t wait to get home from church to tell my mother, who never attended church herself, about how much everyone had liked the charm.  I never got home with that bracelet, it must have slipped off my wrist on the way home.  I was devastated.  Mother and I retraced my steps, but the bracelet wasn’t found.  Mother even hired a man with a metal detector to look for it the next week.  Nothing was found.  The bracelet was lost.  All of the representations of my virtues were never to be found again.  

I believe my friend was right, they should have welded a halo to my head.  It would have been harder to lose.  Would those representations of my virtues turned to trinkets of my ingratitude eventually?  Who is to know?

To Learn Grace..

..is a hard thing.  Some folks will never get the hang of it.

To me grace is something like respect, but in a personal condition,it has to come from not just action, but approach.  It has to come from the way that you think about things, and see the world.  

To learn grace you must realize in all but the most intimate places, you are a guest.  It’s not about deferring to your host, but being just as you are while still respecting that others may not share your outlook.

To learn grace you must never taunt.  Taunting is always clumsy, always disjointed, always a demonstration of gracelessness.  One cannot display grace by pointing out a perceived lack of grace.

To learn grace you must educate yourself.  If you don’t know who or what you are addressing, you are sure to trip.  You must not think that you can lead what you don’t understand.

To learn grace you must know not to be high handed.  The graceful do not see themselves as above others.  Offers of guidance are made from wanting to help, not wanting to dominate.  

To learn grace you must not assume.  Accept that the rather course explanation of the word assume that you were undoubtedly subjected to at some point in your life does have wisdom.  To assume is to make an ass out of you and me.

And finally to learn grace, you must listen.  You must listen to both your supporters and detractors.  When you cut through the praise and censure, there will be something that you can take away.

I don’t claim grace.  But I know it when I see it.

Earth Day And Adoption

Since today is Earth Day I thought it would be a good time to look at the environmental impact of adoption.

As we all know the birth of any child, anywhere, has an environmental consequence, but how does adoption effect that?

Let’s start with the first thing we always hear about when adoption is considered, paperwork.  To hear potential adopters talk there must be at least a ton of it.  That’s a whole lot of trees gone, pollution from paper mills, and all the accompanying mess.  Even if all this was done on 100% recycled paper the impact from all the energy from producing it would still make Al Gore wince.

But adoptive parents will raise their children in a more environmentally responsible way, you say.  I’m not so sure.

The standard image of the birth parent driving an older less economical, carbon belching car while throwing Cheetos wrappers and 7-11 burrito leavings out of the window while speeding to a crack house isn’t quite accurate.  Not is the image of the adoptive parent driving a vegetable oil burning hybrid compact SUV, pausing to pick up Cheetos wrappers for recycling, while driving sensibly to pick up the kids from the French Space Creative Writing Enrichment Camp.  

In fact some of the reasons frequently cited for adoption amount to environmental nightmares.  The first being that they can “give the child so much more”.  While I don’t doubt that they indeed can give them more, I’m not convinced it’s a great idea.  Have they checked where all those boring play to learn toys are made?   Lead free doesn’t necessarily mean responsibly manufactured.  Would a few less toys from Walmart really make a lot of difference?  Exactly how many chemicals are being poured into that pool?  Wouldn’t going to a public pool make more sense from an environmental point of view, even with the Cheetos wrappers abandoned along the route?  

What about the impact of the child themselves?  All those diaries filled with adoption angst don’t come cheap for mother Earth.  Not to even mention the power it takes to produce the bandwidth for the social media pages filled with really bad teenage adoption poetry that is sure to follow.  And while we are on the subject of bad poetry, any poem written by potential and/or current adoptive parents should just be banned, not just for the good of the Earth, but for the good of mankind in general.  Trust me, plenty of bandwidth get wasted with comments about the ridiculousness of these efforts.  

What all the original birth certificates that are sitting around in file cabinets all over the county.  They are taking up valuable space and consuming energy to conceal.  What about the rest of the records that seem destined to never see the light of day?  Wouldn’t it make more sense to entrust them into the responsibility of the adoptee?  To switch the carbon footprint of these papers to the one who they truly belong?  Do they not trust us adoptees to be environmentally responsible with the care of our own records?  Have the enviromentally irresponsible actions of others again stood in our way?

Are our original birth certificates even on acid free paper?  Could this be the reason we aren’t allowed to see them?  

I could go on.  There are surely countless more reasons that adoption is not environmentally responsible.  And I just might.  I am an adoptee.  I have bandwidth to waste.