The Barber May Know

In 1962, I did my first search. It was a game to me. The hunt for the impossible dream for a young Lt. who I worked with in Philadelphia, PA at the Navy base where I did investigations for the legal dept. It was something I had never done before, and after talking it over with her and knowing she had no idea about any info as to who her birth parents were or even could be, I felt it was an impossible case. It took me three weeks.

I was hooked forever. It was to be the game of my life.

Much later, after a real bad tour in Viet Nam, I was having problems with life in general and my marriage; plus, I was up for re-assignment to the west coast. I only had 1 1/2 years left, and I had decided that 8 years was enough time in the Navy.

I was in Atlanta on leave when I saved a young lady from a very abusive date. I offered to get her a taxi home. She was grateful and thanked me, but there were no taxis at that time without a long wait.

It felt good to have helped her; yet, I had sort of messed up her ride home. I told her that I would take her home. We talked on the way and stopped for a hamburger and a coke at a well known drive-in. We spent over 2 hours talking. One thing led to another, and to this day, I cannot tell or even remember how it happened. We made love...{not sex} It was love. I realized later that it was her first time. This was the last time I would see her until 3 years later.

I had divorced my wife and had my children and was in need of a baby-sitter for them, since my sister needed to take some time for herself. She offered to ask a friend of hers to help me.

Two days later, there she was. She looked so good to me. Everything was great between us. We were married 1 year later. Six years later, I located her birth mother, birth sister, and half sister. Yes, things could not be better.

Her birth-mom died 1 month and 3 days later. Things were still okay. Three years later, her half sister died. Then, I was hit with the big news...WE had a child. Gee. All this time and not a word. Then I wanted to know why she waited so long to tell me and why we didn't have him now. All I could do was ask one question after another. ME. ME. ME. I was madder than I had ever been. Then it hit me that I was mad at myself. I was not thinking of her, how she felt, or our child. I was thinking of myself. How could I be like this? For years, I had told adoptees and birth parents, "Be cool. Take it easy. DON'T POINT BLAME."

We talked, then I understood everthing. How hard it was without any moral support. She told me of the times and how her parents had her go to an unwed mothers' home. She ran away so she could try to keep our son. She ended up losing him to adoption in Kansas, after a judge had told her that she could have him back when she got her life together, which was the basic story of the time. After that day (even now), it's (hard) to get him out of my head.

In 1994, she was in a terrible car accident. She died 3 times on the way to the hospital and spent 45 days in a coma. When she woke up, she told me she was ready to find him. I had been (ready), and I am sure she had been as well.

It was Christmas of 94. [Cases are slow that time of year.] I guess that a lot of people feel that gifts are more important than finding their lost loves. I don't know. I started by contacting some people I knew with the state of Kansas. I knew it was hard to get information out of anyone at the state level; yet, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Then, I talked to the present judge. He was even less help. I talked to people who knew Mary's ex-family and had been there when the adoption had occurred [Dec.69].

Weeks of work, then months...still nothing. Finally, I knew that everthing I had received as information was worse than non-id-information. It was time to put up or give up. We loaded the RV and took off for Kansas. First, the capital, to talk to everyone at HRS face-to-face. I learned that I was right. To be nice and to show that I wasn't just blowing smoke, I took them to dinner to talk about things other than the case. It was worth a hundred times the cost of the meals.

We camped at Dodge City. I drove to the town where everything had happened. I got no where fast with the judge.[He was so business-like] I knew from the past it was a waste of time and air, but I tried. The library was next to look-up adoption posts in the newspaper. [HA HA] I should have known that the films I needed would be gone.

The man who showed me my trade told me, when he was teaching me, "Don't ever forget the old way that I (taught) you. It will come in very handy one day." After that, I knew what I had to do.

The town wasn't Mayberry, but it sure could have been. I went to the barber shop. [My old partner was right on the money.] "You're not from here are you, son?" "Where (are) you from?" "What do you do?" And on and on. I got my hair cut, the name of the "nice" people who had adopted him, and much much more. The man had died.

So, I did what I usually do {bad idea this time}, I called the (family who had) buried him. They were nice, until I mentioned why I needed the address info.[They had adopted children.] I got zip. I should have lied. Then, I called some employers.[I lied this time.] I got more information than I truly needed. All of the 5 W's + the H. Eight hours later, I was at the front door of our son's mother.

Most likely, you know most the rest. It was 2 months later before my wife Mary could hold our son. We spent maybe 6 hours with him. From Dec. '95 to April '96, he called twice on our 800#. She died in April '96. I never told him I was his father. [I still may not.]

I have written him several times but never (a reply). I guess I will take this secret with me when I leave; I don't know yet. It hurts me a lot to know close to how she must have felt when she died.

Lonely Abused,

Jim

P.S. Any feed back is welcome. 1option@bellsouth.net

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