After Monday’s post about my Dad’s birthday, I was reminded of an incident that I thought would be fun to share.
I think I’ve mentioned here before that my family history on both sides has been researched extensively, and I’m fortunate to have copies of all that information. But, still, from time to time, I dabble a bit in genealogy in the hopes of learning something new about my ancestors.
Several years ago, I had joined an online genealogy forum searching for more info on my Dad’s side of the family. My maiden name is fairly unusual, and a woman with the same last name reached out to me. She lives in Chesapeake (about 30 minutes from me), so we met one day for lunch.
Now let me just say at this point that, there was a time in my childhood that I suspected that I was adopted. I mean, my dad was in his fifties when I was born, and my mom in her forties. My sisters were both teenagers. It just didn’t seem likely to my young mind that I should be born into that particular family. I think I mentioned it to my mom, and she quickly put my fears to rest. I’m sure she wondered where in the world I got that idea.
During lunch that day with “Ms. M.”, we learned that her dad and mine were cousins. She shared with me some family gossip she remembered hearing from her dad. It all had to do with the time just after my father died (remember that I was only eight months old at the time). I don’t recall the details she shared that day, but it touched on the “fact” that I wasn’t REALLY my dad’s daughter…..I think some distant relatives suspected that I was actually the daughter of one of his cousins, and that my parents had adopted me.
Somehow I managed to hold my emotions in check until we finished our meal and said our good-byes.
Thankfully, my older sister, June, was still living at the time, and as soon as I was out of the restaurant, I was on the phone to her, praying she would answer. Nearly in tears, I explained to her what had just happened. June, never one to mince words, had a quick and colorful response. And I’ll just paraphrase her comment: “Well, she’s full of baloney”. Then we laughed about the whole episode.
I think that may have been the first time of many that June told me this: the night my parents brought me home from the hospital, she barely slept. She said she was afraid that, if she went to sleep, when she woke up, I would have disappeared. She was sixteen at the time, and apparently overjoyed to have a baby sister.
I’m so glad she was just a phone call away that day of my lunch with “Ms. M.”, who, by the way, I’ve had no contact with since.
After my conversation with June, I turned up the volume on my car radio. And this was the song that was playing.
And of course, the phrase that caught my ear: “What’s your name, who’s your daddy?”
~These Days Of Mine~