#2 Visit Ireland
Rumor has it, I am part Irish. Whether or not this is true is anybody's guess. My parents were both adopted. My father has been out of the picture since I was very little (in fact, I wouldn't know him if he came to the door). I don't know anything about his biological parents, other than them supposedly both being med students that wanted to finish school before becoming parents. I have no idea if that's true. Sounds like a big lie to me, but who knows. I can just see his adoptive parents being told that to make the sale, or them telling him that to try to trick him into being smart.
My mother's adoptive mother, the grandmother that raised me, had a little more information about the biological parents. She met them, had names, etc. I haven't gone too deep into it, since I really have no desire to actually MEET these people*, but I am curious where I might have come from. My biological grandmother was 19 when she had my mother... which was her 3rd baby. My grandmother's sister's inlaws (get that?) ran a boarding house. The 2nd baby lived there, which is how they got in touch. The boarding house people told my grandmother that there was a baby there that needed a home, and has she had gone through several losses and a stillbirth, it seemed a perfect match. So, she adopted my mother. Who, by 3 months, had already been so severely neglected that she had open sores on her bottom the size of quarters. Her winner mother would prop a bottle in her mouth and go to the bar to drink. Her biological father was a little more responsible, but he was working. He actually didn't want to give her up, but he couldn't raise her on his own, so he agreed.
I've often wondered if it was that first 3 months of neglect that made my mother the bipolar mess she was, but I guess that's another post.
Anyway, as it was, back in 1953 when this all went down, the adoption was a pretty open thing. In fact, my grandmother had to find 3 people that knew both her and the biological parents. Which, I gather, wasn't easy. As such, she met the biological parents several times, and knew their names, etc.
This is where the irish bit comes in. She told me that my biological grandfather, was tall, thin and very very irish. Red hair, green eyes, last name McKeon. So, I suppose that makes me at least 1/4 irish. Maybe more from the mystery pool of genetics that I come from, but without the new fangled genetic testing they are now doing (which I wouldn't mind getting if it weren't 43 trillion dollars), there's no way to know.
That was part of the reason I want to go to Ireland. But mostly just because I like beer and it seems a good fit.
Someday, I'll elaborate on the whole bipolar infested childhood I had.
*I thought about looking up my biological grandfather, who, according to my grandmother, was very upset about giving up my mother. But, as she made some very bad choices, and died in 1995, I didn't really think it a good idea. Maybe if life had turned out sunshine and light, he'd like to know that. But, he's an old old man now, and the life he envisioned for her is probably much better than the one she actually had, so I think it's best to let him die with that, even though he probably thinks he'd like to know. I don't think he does.
My mother's adoptive mother, the grandmother that raised me, had a little more information about the biological parents. She met them, had names, etc. I haven't gone too deep into it, since I really have no desire to actually MEET these people*, but I am curious where I might have come from. My biological grandmother was 19 when she had my mother... which was her 3rd baby. My grandmother's sister's inlaws (get that?) ran a boarding house. The 2nd baby lived there, which is how they got in touch. The boarding house people told my grandmother that there was a baby there that needed a home, and has she had gone through several losses and a stillbirth, it seemed a perfect match. So, she adopted my mother. Who, by 3 months, had already been so severely neglected that she had open sores on her bottom the size of quarters. Her winner mother would prop a bottle in her mouth and go to the bar to drink. Her biological father was a little more responsible, but he was working. He actually didn't want to give her up, but he couldn't raise her on his own, so he agreed.
I've often wondered if it was that first 3 months of neglect that made my mother the bipolar mess she was, but I guess that's another post.
Anyway, as it was, back in 1953 when this all went down, the adoption was a pretty open thing. In fact, my grandmother had to find 3 people that knew both her and the biological parents. Which, I gather, wasn't easy. As such, she met the biological parents several times, and knew their names, etc.
This is where the irish bit comes in. She told me that my biological grandfather, was tall, thin and very very irish. Red hair, green eyes, last name McKeon. So, I suppose that makes me at least 1/4 irish. Maybe more from the mystery pool of genetics that I come from, but without the new fangled genetic testing they are now doing (which I wouldn't mind getting if it weren't 43 trillion dollars), there's no way to know.
That was part of the reason I want to go to Ireland. But mostly just because I like beer and it seems a good fit.
Someday, I'll elaborate on the whole bipolar infested childhood I had.
*I thought about looking up my biological grandfather, who, according to my grandmother, was very upset about giving up my mother. But, as she made some very bad choices, and died in 1995, I didn't really think it a good idea. Maybe if life had turned out sunshine and light, he'd like to know that. But, he's an old old man now, and the life he envisioned for her is probably much better than the one she actually had, so I think it's best to let him die with that, even though he probably thinks he'd like to know. I don't think he does.
posted by Angie at 7:41 AM
1 Comments:
WOW! Interesting read there... I think he would want to know how awesome of a granddaughter he has though. ;)
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