Turtle Rock

Boy! Did this guy have the wrong number, or what? This is a joke, right? Oddly enough, all those earlier premonitions never even entered my mind. I was curious however, as to how he thought I could possibly be the guy he was looking for.

He told me that he knew I was born in Madison, Virginia immediately reinforcing my belief that he was on the wrong track. He continued by telling me that his client, Jeanette Meade, was raised with two younger sisters by their grandparents. Why he told me that he believed she didn’t have much money, I still don’t understand. I would later learn however, that she had paid him all in quarters she had saved which may have been the basis for his conclusion, but why he mentioned that while trying to make his case, makes no sense to me.

His confusion over two much younger sisters that he knew very little about and that he wasn’t even sure how they fit into the picture wasn’t very reassuring. I nonetheless, was sure that he was wasting his time on me and I told him so just before he asked if he could call me back. I felt like the cowboys who had circled their wagons and just finished the first wave of Indian attacks. Moments after hanging up the phone, I was unexplainably shaken and every bit as confused. Close to closing time, I decided to close early, hoping to work this out and make sense of it all. I certainly was in no frame of mind at that point to be productive!

Could my dad have had an extramarital relationship of which I was the product? In their desperation to have a child, did they seek a surrogate? No matter what scenario I could come up with, there was always the birth certificate that clearly stated I was born in Albemarle County, not Madison, Virginia, to the parents who raised me. That fact alone was hard to dispute. Now a complete stranger calls to tell me that my entire life of 55 years was a lie? I needed more than the confusing story he was trying to convince me was the reality. In fact, something deep within was telling me I wanted more so I could have the siblings I always yearned for even though consciously, I was in denial.

Arriving home and pouring myself a glass of wine, I placed a second glass on the table for Pam. She didn’t drink, but I thought if ever there might be a time, this was it. Still nursing my first glass when she arrived home from work, I offered one to her. Not expecting her to accept it, I did, however, tell her she might change her mind after hearing what I had to tell her. Without hesitation, she asked if the dog had died. Becoming emotional and with considerable difficulty, I shared with her all about the phone call. I don’t recall that she said much, if anything. I then suggested we consult with her parents to get their input. They could certainly look at it without all the emotions that I was consumed with. A few minutes after calling them, we were on our way to their house, a short drive, only about one mile away.

Sitting in Lou and Carol’s family room, each of us, except Pam, of course, with a glass of wine in hand. Breaking the ice, Pam told them that I had something to tell them. Silence blanketed the room as they all turned their attention to me. I was suddenly struck with that feeling of helplessness once again. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get a word out. Noticing my struggle, Pam asked if she could tell them. Nodding my head, I couldn’t even manage a simple yes. Lou’s initial reaction was that it was a scam. Carol, however, a very proficient genealogist, rushed to her computer to see what she could learn about Jeanette Meade. She found two people with that name and as it turned out, neither of them was the one she was looking for. All four of us were now at whits end. I had known Lou and Carol since I was twelve years old, so they knew me quite well. They also knew my parents. A scam was the only logical explanation we could come up with.

Meanwhile, on the east coast, Mr. Tonker contacted his client on Christmas Eve day. Informing her that he believed he had found her brother, he also needed a little more time to make sure. Later that evening, Dinah, the eldest of the younger sisters, stopped by Jeanette’s house where Jeanette told her that next Christmas was going to be a lot better. Without further explanation, Dinah just thought Jeanette might be coming into some money, maybe winning the lottery or something.

Mr. Tonker and I spoke two more times over the following weeks to no avail. At the end of the second call, he assured me that if I would just let his client call me, she could explain it so much better than he had. Reluctantly agreeing, I thought that I was once and for all going to put an end to this nonsense. More than a month passed without a follow up phone call, reinforcing my skepticism. Then late one afternoon, the phone in my office rang. Again, I noticed that it was a long distance call. Taking a deep breath, I picked it up and said hello.

The voice on the other end was that of a polite and very apologetic woman with a southern dialect. Confessing that she just couldn’t imagine what I must have been going through all this time, she also let me know that the time allotted for her phone call was limited as she was calling from work, in her supervisor’s office, with her blessings of course. She then began explaining how it all began. Began indeed! Her baby brother, she said, was born in a mountain home in Madison, Virginia. Two weeks later, he was carried down the mountain by our mother, where I was handed through the window of a car to the parents who raised me.

Ah-ha! Finally something I could relate to. Something that no one else knew about me. I had never told anyone that I was born in a car, out in the country. Now, 55 years later, a complete stranger, more than two-thousand miles away, tells me a story that was close to what I knew. Keeping my composure, as difficult as it was, I told her that I had some things to do but I would get back to her as soon as possible. At that point, we exchanged contact information and ended the conversation for the time being.

Later, that evening, I wrote a letter to my Aunt Blanche, the surviving widow of Dad’s brother, Sam. Hoping that she could confirm the story, I asked her to please tell me if there was anything she knew, all the while assuring her that no matter what happens, she will always be my aunt and my cousins will always be my cousins. A couple days later, she called me. I again thanked her and told her how happy I was to hear from her. We talked about the “old days” and how we all had so much fun when we would all get together before she ultimately said, “I guess it’s okay to tell you now.” Absolutely nothing could prepare me for what she was about to say.

Apparently Mom and Dad had sworn all of his 14 siblings and their spouses to secrecy. They were never to let me know that I was not their biological son. Subsequently, all of Dad’s brothers and sisters believed that he had gotten mixed up with another woman, I was the product and Mom and Dad legally adopted me. That was hard to deny as I looked so much like him. Even more remarkable, all my 100 cousins knew the secret as well. She further explained that “the parents” were sitting around talking about it when cousin Roberta, who was a number of years younger than me, entered the room. Everyone stopped talking but not before Roberta had heard enough to know what they were talking about. Much to everyone’s surprise she said, “it’s okay. We all know that Teddy was adopted.” The cat was out of the bag in Southern California, however, miraculously remaining a secret from me for fifty-five years.

Emailing Jeanette, I briefed her on what I had learned. We then talked on the phone to work out the details of having a DNA test performed. Keep in mind, this was before the popularity of DNA testing, so there weren’t many places that did it. Jeanette said she already had a lab all lined up, one that she had used before. Putting the brakes on, I told her that I needed to take the lead on this in order to have complete confidence in the results. Understandingly, she conceded and we each sent our samples to the lab in Canada that I had found. Also included, was a sample from Uncle Sam and Aunt Blanche’s son, Jim in Southern California for a Y-DNA test that would prove whether or not my dad was in fact my biological dad.

A couple weeks passed before I received the initial DNA test results. Opening it immediately, the documents revealed two results. Calling Jeanette, I asked if she was sitting down when she said she was driving and her dad was with her. I told her that she might want to pull over before she heard the news I was about to share. With excitement in her voice, she asked what it said. The half-sibling DNA test confirmed what we both expected. After a long pause, I then told her that there was more. I knew that what I was about to tell her was going to be upsetting. As I told her that the second result proved that she and I were not only half-siblings, but full-siblings. She emphatically exclaimed that it could not be so. I could now hear a second voice, in the background, insisting on knowing what was going on. Explaining to me that the DNA test between her and her dad was positive, therefore, it was physically impossible for her dad to be my biological father because he was a prisoner of war in Korea when I was conceived and born.

More to come