Saturday, October 29, 2016




As I have openly shared, there is always that one family member that one can turn to for comfort, for reassurance, for understanding especially when they cannot turn to either parent. Often, talking about such person things can be the hardest for anyone. I for one did not have that family that I could turn to and discuss openhearted feelings or thoughts of confusion.

But, I did have my Uncle Don Brown. I must of been in my early twenties, (a lot of things happen to me in my twenties some good, some bad, and very bad) he was living in Palm Springs and I often called him to get some guidance about life just in general. I remembered that sometime ago he brought up the conversation with my parents regarding my adoption. My mom and dad quickly shut him down and changed the subject and while doing that, my dad asked me to leave the room.

While I was climbing the stairs headed to my room I could hear voices being raised.

"Why do you want to rehash that conversation with her? She is fine not knowing anything right now, besides, I'm not ready to share what I did right after she got home." bellowed my mom with her roaring voice. My dad quickly jumped into the conversation defending my mom.

"Because, she has the right to know." replied my Uncle. I stopped short at the stop of the stairs shocked and amazed that a huge piece of my life was now beginning to become heavy tangled knots such as a young sailor learning to tie knots on a boat.

My head began to spin with confusion, my stomach turned with anger, pain, and now resentment that my life was such a secret. Why do they not want me to know about my life I questioned myself.

"She often calls me and seeks me out for things to talk about and when I asked her why she hasn't spoken to the both of you, well, she just simply tells m that you both would not understand. You have a very confused little girl that is dying to know who she is, where she came from." my uncle said with authority and matter of fact tone to his voice.

I turned to sneak downstairs to the second level of the house slithering into the conversation pit hiding from both my parents and my uncle. My palms began to sweat I was so scared they would of found me and then got even more mad then they were.

I could see my mom from the reflection of the mirror in the dining room. I could see her face filled with bewildered look on her face looking at my uncle then my dad.

"What do you mean she calls you, when does she call you?" My uncle took a swig of his hard liquor and walked closer to my parents then leaning on the counter facing them.

"All the time, she talks to me about things such as sex, boys, drugs, drinking, and just life in general. She tells me that she can't talk to the both of you because all you do is judge and yell at her. By the looks on your faces and the tones in both of your voices, I can see why."

"Get out," my mom shouted, "get the hell out of my house, I am not going to have someone tell me that my daughter cannot talk to me."

At that moment my uncle took his last sip of hard liquor and I just made a mad dash up the stairs to my room as quietly as I could. Once in my room I heard hard stomping feet hitting the tile floors and then a quick abrupt slam of the front door.

My dad stood on the second level of the home then shouting my name followed by his demand to come to the kitchen. I descended down the stairs as if I was headed for the gas chambers to end my life. I imagined someone behind me in a police uniform shouting, "DEAD WOMAN WALKING"

When I got to the kitchen I could see my mom's face. Her eyes swollen from crying, my dad with his look of disappointment and disgust as he glared at me.

"What is this I hear that you call Don Brown and talk to him about personal things?" asked my dad. I shrugged my shoulders fearful to speak. My heart was breaking because I broke my mom's heart. But I had to know the "secret" what was this secret about my life.

"When we are ready to share about your life we will, but in the mean time please stop discussing your adoption with Don Brown" my dad said with such authority and demand in his voice.

The conversation was dropped and nothing was ever discussed about it. From that time since I was maybe thirteen until my early twenties, I lead a life filled with confusion. I went from being confused by maybe sixty-percent to now one-hundred-fifty-one-percent.

When computers were becoming all the rage and seeking things out were just a click and clack away of the fingers on a keyboard, I had a copy of my birth certificate and each time I tried to find the hospital that I was born in, all that ever came up was a used car lot. I called the car lot that was associated with the address and I received this recording, "the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service, please check the number and try again" 

I called my uncle once again not caring who I hurt or who's toes I would step on. That was a conversation I was not ready for. He told me that many people went with my parents to pick me up from the hospital. My grandparents, uncles, aunts, and yes, Don Brown. He told me that he saw the woman who gave birth to me. He told me that she was exotic looking almost Hispanic looking. She was tiny in size and all alone in the hospital bed.

So, how did he know that was my birth mom? Well, my uncle Don Brown was a very handsome man. He was a strong chick magnet. Women would flock to him as if he was feeding seagulls at the ocean. He told me that the one nurse that was caring for my mom was in the very next room where my parents were sitting holding me and finishing up their paperwork.

He told me she was maybe in her early twenties as well. She was crying and wanting to hold her baby but the nurse reminded her, "your baby is gone, she is in a new home" my uncle just stood there watching her ache in pain for losing me.

Was this true, did he actually tell me the truth? Did he really meet my birth mom? Only time will tell.