Well, when all is said and done-all is said and done.
And very little, at that.
Today arrived the pack of papers I have been-avoiding-dreading-guilty about-longing for
for the past 50 plus years.
The adoption papers.
With the house clean out in progress and Mum as barmy as the Mad Hatter most days it seemed time to put my anxiety aside and delve into the truth of the matter.
There was a decent stack, all typed (on a bad typewriter-government, eh?) on onion skin paper with a variety of seals, strings, rusted paper clips and stamps.....the kind of stamps you lick....and waiting for me to know the facts.
What I came away with was hardly reason to be so apprehensive lo' these many years.
Written in German, but with translation papers throughout, they mostly said:
Blah-blah-bladhy-blah First Party-blahdy-bloo-Second Party.....
(Such a word. Happy Faerie Mash-up would have been more suitable, don't you think?)
My original name has been changed. Not just my last name.
(Considering Foxmorton is yet another name change...and then there's Violet and Hatty and BeBe....and...well......
clearly I started the name change game early. A rose by any other name, eh?)
The child owns no property.
(Clearly they failed to take into account those several acres of gnome woodlands.
I hold the deed, it's just invisible is all. And the pirate booty goes without saying.)
I now know my birth mother's full name.
(Which is kind of scary as she doesn't know mine. Almost like an invasion of privacy if I were to bandy it about.....which I won't. Remember, this was never about finding my parents. Simply a burning desire to know my ancestry. Germany.....castles.....explains much about me.
Which brings us to Nature vs. Nurture...but we can save that for another time.)
Her first name is beautiful...I think. I'm not sure how to pronounce it.
(None of my real names were hers. My stomach did the biggest flip upon seeing her name in
print for the first time.)
I have no father.
(Nor was there any mention or place on the papers to fill in a father. But, we all know that
River Pirates consorting with faeries generally don't leave a name.....)
I know my birth mothers partial address at the time of my birth-though no mention of her birth date.
(I would have liked to know how old she was. Do I have siblings? I really want to know if I have siblings.)
I know her occupation at the time of her birth.
(Maid. Which makes for a good Cinderella story I suppose.)
I have no mental defects.
(Bwah-hahahahahah! We Germans are a funny lot! Slipped that one right by them, eh?)
And that is all I know.
All this time I believed these papers to hold the
Secret to Foxmorton's Universe.
And they didn't.
And that's ok.
I grew up only knowing that both my parents were German. My father went to great lengths to be sure some discharged officer from Boise wasn't going to knock on the door when I was 7 and create a ruckus.
(Apparently he figured it would be an inconvenient weekend trip all the way from Germany.)
And now? Well, now I know a little more.
I'll need to think on this awhile.
This feeling of finally turning a page in my story.
And then I'll let you know what I though.
My sincere thanks for sharing this moment with me.
The Past, it seems, was quite over by the time I came along. My brothers were 17 and 22 and the days of the Old Stuff were lagging behind. (Which were so much better than anything new that could be produced today!) As I continue to clean out my Mum's house (she's still with us, by the way, 101 and going strong!) I stumble upon various ancient pieces that Speak to me. I have taken so very little, in the grand scheme of things, less than two boxes, really. But the things I have taken are such treasures to me.
I do though admit, here and out loud (as there is no one left to hurt by such an admission)
I dearly wish that I had just one old piece that used to belong to my birth mother.
Wouldn't that be a grand thing to own?
I share some of yesterday's (sometimes painful) finds.
With my recent Passion For France, I was delighted to find several things from my Father's visit in 1944. (see past posts) (seriously-a real rose from France 1944!) This bracelet is so full of beauty and energy! I imagine it was generally sold to tourists and were a dime a dozen...then. I can't imagine finding its equal today.
The detail is perfection!
I don't see myself wearing it. It has held up well...but still.
Sort of the thing one can imagine losing.
I've decided to frame it against some lace and display it.
It really was a Blessing to find.
(L to R)
Arc de Triomphe
Ile de France
Always a favorite of mine.......the vintage table cloths!
They don't make 'em like this any more!
This is great! A still wrapped, three pack of Ivory soap!
Appears to be a special vintage design for a contest occasion.
(12/31/2002 is on the back with a web site-so this isn't really old....just cool)
The front says to *find the sinking bar and win $100,000!
(as you'll remember...Ivory was known as the soap that floats!)
Now......wouldn't it be really sad if the sinking bar was in this pack....?????
Mum never bothered to find out. lol
As for me, I don't have the heart to open it and be disappointed!
My great great grandchildren will probably be excited when they find this.
My Mum, looking very young. I sooooo covet that dress on the right!
Too bad that one wasn't still in her closet! ;)
For those of you who follow my blogs, you will know that my Uncle Whitey
was (and still is!) my heart and soul!
I can still, after 26 years, cry like a baby at the mention of his name.
(and why, yes...yes I am.....right now, even) :)
He was the purest soul that ever graced the Universe.
In my eyes he was Angel, Pirate and Giant.
I will never stop missing him.
Here then, is his volunteer fireman's hat.
I used to wear it and pretend I was a policeman.
Uncle Whitey would laugh and laugh.
(and why, yes....yes I am......wearing it right now, even) :)
Whenever I think of the odds of never having come to know him-I could have been adopted by anyone-I always give thanks that he was there as my one Constant.....and I lucked out.
Bit and pieces. I do so love a cameo, and oddly, given my Mum's age, she hadn't all that many.
What really fascinates me are the powder compacts.
I have a few already, Mum would dole them out like she did the lace. (see past blogs)
It seems that one MUST have a refillable compact for one's Coty Air-spun Loose Powder! lol
These are quite unique.
Top: Engraved *Officer's Club 1940*
Bottom: SUNY Oswego 1946
(Note- SUNY Oswego was formerly the Normal School (yeah, I never asked why the name)
which went on to be the State College.
All within walking distance of The Homestead and right on Lake Ontario.)
My grandfather hauled rocks from the lake shore by horse and wagon to build Sheldon Hall.
The State eventually bought them out in order to expand the college.
I was 4 when we moved from that site. No indoor bathroom.
Try potty training in a real live outhouse! ;)
(Kidding.....I remember a potty chair.)
How sad that we didn't have one of those fancy chamber pots to pass down.
I kind of remember an enamel bucket.
Uncle Whitey always used the outhouse.
I, on the other hand, was scared (shite-less?) with stories of
Small Children Who Could Fall In A Hole of Poo.
And my final find of the day!
Those little plastic records and my Mister Ed comic book!
Remember when Mister Ed wanted Wilbur to buy him a swimmin' pool?
And there you have it. We are nearing an end to it all. So many mixed feelings. So many lovely memories.