Visiting Lottie and Janelle

Yesterday, Rosie and I went to Monrovia to visit her great aunt Lottie and my cousin, Janelle. I anticipated that Rosie was going to find it quite an experience and I wasn’t disappointed.

There are many great storytellers in our family. I am probably one of the more pale practitioners in a crowd of masters.

Lottie told us about her volunteer work in Monrovia, doing whatever needed doing, teaching seniors to sew, giving rides to the doctor. She is full of life and as frank and candid as ever.

Janelle came over after we had eaten. Lottie had fixed us some soul food, which Rosie had requested. She originally requested gumbo, Lottie told her that they usually ate that when it was cold out.

After touring her home and looking at some of the portraits, like this one of Lottie, my mother, Betty, and their older sister, Marjorie, who died in 1963, just three days after President Kennedy was killed.

I shared the scrapbook that Rosie had made for me.

We sat down to ribs . . . hot links, collard greens and potato salad as Lottie told us stories about her relationships with her parents. She told us about her first new car, About the time Gram sold Grandpa Dorson’s car to the junk man while he was gone, trying to buy parts for it. When he went to try to retrieve it he was told, “Well, some of it’s over there in that pile, some of it’s over there in that pile . . .”

Once Janelle arrived, the energy raised immeasureably. The two of them kept us laughing loud and long. The way they told the stories only added to the outrageous content, The way they revealed the family history was certainly unguarded.

I was so happy to share this part of my family with Rosie. I realize now that I am older that those family dinners when we would gather round the table and Vivian, or Gram would hold forth with some incredible story, just in talking, just in being who they were. Their language was quite colorful and I have come to understand that there was nothing like it anywhere else in my life. I think I thought everyone must have a family like that. I wish they did!

They told us stories about the family, themselves, our other cousins, my older brother. About coming out to swim in our swimming pool, which they wouldn’t go in because it was too cold.

I am revived in my value of family. Rosie has given me new insight and renewed connection with some important people in my immediate family, my extended family and my family of friends. I am deeply grateful.

The Breeze from Trabuco Canyon

Yesterday was a very full day! We never got out of our pajamas! Cameron went to work, and Rosie and I welcomed a parade of their friends all day. She has collected a very warm, loving family of friends who have been following our adventures on the blog and were excited to meet me.

Because our writing is so similar, Desiree and her son, Roman, joked that, perhaps, Rosie had made me up. They thought she might answer the door wearing a curly wig. I enjoyed their visit very much. Desiree has two very intelligent sons. She has much to be proud of.

Other folks from her religious community, braved the unanticipated
thunderstorm to knock on the door to get a look at Rosie’s Dad.

It was pouring! I was amazed at the ferocity of the rainfall and the lightning and thunder. It felt like the Hudson Valley, rather than Southern California. It rained for most of the day. The thunder set off car alarms.

I had been surprised by the sound of all of the frogs, the night I arrived, because it seemed so dry, but it’s not so dry now!

There was a big fire near here and the vegetation has not yet come back, so it is susceptible to erosion. Apparently, a biker bar down the canyon was filled with three feet of mud.

I saw on the news that there is a large fire in Santa Cruz, where many people I know would be affected. My thoughts went out to them. I would be helping, if I were there, but I am where I need to be.

Rosie and I are savoring this visit. She has been making me a scrapbook of photos and memorabilia. Her certificates for winning essay contests in High School make me honored to have our writing called similar. She has been a good writer for a long time.

She gave me photos from her modeling portfolio. They are stunning! I remembered that my mother had been a model, also.

The photos of her as a young girl bring waves of what might have been. I do wish I could have been in her life, but that’s not the way the story was to be written. This is such an opportunity for joy that it seems a waste to spend time in the sorrow of what might have been. As the song said, “Lives that might have been, are only lives that never were.”

This story is being written each new day, each new moment. It has been energizing to realize how much joy and hope Rosie’s finding me gives others. I told Rosie that I felt that our story was about hope. It shows that, even when you have let go of the possibility of ever finding completion . . . resolution, it can appear from out of nowhere, in a way that is absolutely perfect.

Today, we have tentative plans to meet with my Aunt Lottie and maybe my cousin, Janelle. I haven’t seen them since my wedding and am excited for Rosie to meet them. I think that Brandon, Victoria’s son, is down here somewhere too. Cameron may be able to join up with us, as well.

Last night, Cameron shared the Monty Python skit about the Italian class, taught by the Brit, in which the students were Italian. I shared the Food Court Musical. I showed Rosie the video about Joe Hemphill, the writer in Fresno that Cindy and I are working with.

I am careful not to pretend to write about everyone I meet, I would never be able to keep up. I wouldn’t want to leave anyone out and have them think that they were not memorable, or significant. Please know that I am honored to have you include me in your lives and I am grateful for all that you have given my Rosie.

Rosie’s Visit (Day 2)!

Rosie and Cameron just left and I am considering the last few days, while they are still fresh.

Yesterday, Rosie brought Cameron over to meet me and we drove up to Richmond to have lunch with my mother and meet the rest of the family.

Cameron is an engaging person . . funny, clever, intelligent, very practical. When he heard that my brakes were in need of repair, he threw his tools in the car so that he could work on them while they were here. What a sweet guy!

When we arrived at my mother’s work place, Rosie was welcomed like a celebrity! Everyone had been following the story and looking at the photos and it was an incredibly warm experience. I was so happy for Rosie to get to experience this. She told me that she has never felt special. I hope that has changed! She is SO special to me . . . and the rest of my family. I hope she can feel it!

Rosie wanted to go by the family store and, my brother, David, had said he’d be around. We ate at Spengers while Cameron showed us photos of Rosie and of their trips and wedding photos. On the way up, we had stopped at a market for sustenance just before picking Betty up. Rosie has similar blood sugar issues to mine and Cameron does a great job of making sure that she gets fed. I know what it is like to be trapped in the car with someone who has low blood sugar and I know what it is like to be that person.

We dropped Betty off at work so she could pick up her car and go get Dorrie who was wanting to meet Rosie. We went to Berkeley and were going to meet up with them at Betty’s after our tour of the family business.

We went to the “Shop”, as we refer to it, and looked at the photos on the wall, watched David and Kokee at work. Kokee hadn’t met Rosie the day before, so she was introduced to her, and to Cameron. We took some group photos, and tried to convince Rosie that she really needed to add a choir robe, or two to her ensemble.

Cameron has a sister who is similar to my sister, Dorrie, so her mannerisms were not unfamiliar to them. Dorrie was a fountain of words wanting to tell us about her upcoming trip to a dude ranch, which I think is in Arizona, but she didn’t seem too certain about that. She is very excited about that. We focused in and out of that during the time at Betty’s.

Cameron showed us more photos that they had packed in the car on their hasty departure from home. Betty shared some of the photos she had collected and identified Rosie’s ancestors in them.

Family stories flowed, discussions of race, my mother shared some song lyrics that she said she realized she must have written for Rosie, about the power of being brown, not black or white.

Hours passed, it was 8:30 and we became suddenly aware that we had made an agreement with David to meet him at the Eagles Hall in Alameda at 8:30. It was then 8:30!

We hustled into the car. Cameron’s GPS got us there, so I didn’t have to get lost again trying to find it.

On Friday nights, they host a Cajun/Zydeco dance at the Eagles Hall, am old building in Alameda, which has a big “floating” dance floor. I have gone, perhaps 5 times. There is live music, often bands from Louisiana. It is pretty much the same crowd every time I go. This night, there were about half as many as the other times. Still, a lot of people.

It was an amazing experience to be there with Rosie. She loves to dance and had lit up when I had mentioned the possibility of going dancing. She shares a passion for salsa dancing with David. I had agreed to go salsa dancing with him . . . sometime. When we got to the hall there was no sign of David, but we settled in and basked in the scene. I danced with Rosie and it was so much fun I could hardly contain myself. I got Cameron up to dance with her and took some photos. We watched the various couples and all of the variations for a while, and I realized that, though there have been nights when I was content to watch and learn . . . tonight was for dancing! Rosie and I danced several dances, Cajun, Zydeco, a waltz, some line dancing . . . It got better and better. I look forward to much dancing with her! Dancing, singing, talking, writing.

We called it a night, when things were still going strong. I felt that I didn’t want to be greedy. I had more than I had ever dreamed of. I didn’t need more.

I am sure there will be long nights of dancing and singing in our future, tonight we needed to get home safely.

Cameron drove us home and I fell into bed. It took a little while for me to get to sleep, though, I was exhausted. The euphoria of it all was so intoxicating.

I awoke early and waited for the phone to ring, while I collected video tapes that I wanted to show Rosie. Her great-grandfather being interviewed about his life in New Orleans, my television show, some performances. . . I got a call from Rosie asking me to read my email and call her. I hadn’t read my email, yet, which was uncharacteristic of me. I was too intent on getting things ready for her. I read her email, along with several others from people who have been following along on the blog, When I read the poem she sent me , as well as the preface, I was overwhelmed. She had spoken for me. She had said what I was feeling. She said my words before I could find them . . . and better! I called her fully dissolved in tears and she told me to pull myself together because they would be arriving soon, so that Cameron could replace my brakes and we could spend some more time together.

Rosie told me that she felt that she was the first one in our family to be free, That she had lived her life entirely untouched by racism. She had never felt discriminated against. I told her what a wonderful thing it was to hear that my daughter did not have to go around wearing her skin. It is true that she did have to wear her beauty and I know there is a price for that, as well. I didn’t want her to feel guilt about not having experienced racism. I do appreciate her sensitivity to it. There are members of her other families that are more apparently black, than she, and she was concerned.

I am grateful to her family for providing that experience for her. To allow her to grow up without having to be black, however, unintentional that may have been. It says a lot about them. We all have family issues. I am thankful that Rosie was spared having race be one of them. She had her own struggle for identity, as well as facing religious intolerance.

She and Cameron drove back home. I gave her a pillow to take to sleep with on the back seat. They were both was pretty exhausted. She had my pillow, my music and I hope much more…

Overwhelmed!

Two fathers, brothers, with their daughters.

I had no idea!

Or, maybe that was the problem, maybe I had only experienced the pain of not having had children, as a thought, as a concept and not allowed myself to feel the emotion.

Rosie has opened me up to it,

She sent me an email and a poem this morning that is so much of what I am feeling, I could have written it myself. I am grateful to her for saying it for the both of us.

Hi, Dad!

I woke up at 4:30 again and couldn’t go back to sleep. There are just too many words inside me waiting to get out, The door in my mind is too narrow for them to exit all at once, so they will have to patiently wait in line.

I can’t capture all the feelings I am experiencing right now; I can’t even identify some of them. I woke up sobbing, and I’m not sure if that was joy or pain. I never knew they were so similar. If it was pain I felt, it was the pain of the last 36 years. If it was joy, it was the ecstasy of the past two days, so intense that I want to stay awake so I can continue this wonderful dream I’m having. The need to sleep is an inconvenient irritation.

I wrote this for you this morning. Call me when you get up. I’M WIDE AWAKE!

EMPTY SPACE

There is a room in my house no one knew of but me

The door always locked, only I held the key

Sometimes I would go there to dream or to hide

And at other times sat on the cold floor and cried

I tried to imagine the way it would look

Filled with furniture, pictures and interesting books

And I’d think to myself it was kind of a waste

To have nothing and no one to fill up this space

But it remained empty, and year after year

It’s purpose became even less and less clear

Til one day you entered and struck up a tune

And the smile that you gave me filled up the whole room

And you reached for my hand, and we waltzed ‘cross the floor

And I knew at that moment what that room was for

You are a dream come true!

Love, Rosie

Big Day (Rosie Visits!)

Yesterday, I met my daughter, Rosie, for the first time! I only became aware of her existence the day before, and now, there she was before me! Standing in the pasture with my horses, meeting her grandmother, her uncle and cousins, looking into the mirror at the restaurant . . . at the two of us, together, at last!

We shared our music on the way up to Richmond. I was overcome by the reality of that. Playing recordings of our songs for one another and being able to discuss the music in a language that we could both understand.

She is an intelligent, beautiful woman, who I think, is only starting to understand who she really is. I can only imagine what it must be like for her. And what it must be like for her husband who has been married to her for 17 years. I’m looking forward to meeting him. He is attached to her as she undergoes this process. That can’t be easy. She, not really knowing what is happening, or what it all means. It must be difficult for him to be on the outside as she goes through what must be a solitary experience, at first. To see your fantasies and realities colliding in front of you . . . surrounding you. To have been disconnected from part of your identity for your entire life and then to be reconnected with it, must be exhilarating . . . and terrifying. Where is the ground? Everything that your life has been built on is seen in a new light. Though, to be sure, she has built a core self that has gotten her through these 36 years of life.

Ultimately, it must be a positive thing to know who you are. To find the truth of your existence. It is easy to see that someone might easily be shaken to the core when experiencing such an onslaught of information. I would be.

The love that I find in myself for her is difficult to describe. I had experienced something like it in bringing up Gretel and Ryen and Nicole, and my love for them is real. There is something so visceral about how I experience Rosie. I feel her to be part of me. I feel in her, my mother, my cousins. Her beauty is so familiar to me! There is something about her that says, “This is the woman that you have always known would be in your life, but the relationship is not what you expected!”

It is so wonderful that she would come into my life in a way that would be permanent. The bond is in bone, not just the heart!

It was very possible that I might have encountered someone that I could not talk to, who could not understand me. I know that family does not necessarily mean resonance on any other level. She sings, writes, dances . . . and she thinks largely. I am moved that these are things that are so central to MY core and they have shown up in her, despite growing up in an environment that was not comfortable with her talents.

The shock on her grandmother’s face when Rosie walked through her door was a sight to behold! They are built from the same blueprint! Rosie is the vehicle for those talents to move forward in the world.

I look forward to being a part of her adventure. I look forward to seeing who she is!

I get to be with her again today and I am moved to tears that I am able to receive that gift!

I’m a Father!

My daughter, Rosie, and son-in-law, Cameron.

Today, I received a phone call that has changed me forever!

I didn’t hear the first call come in. There was a message from a woman who said that I was had had a big impact on her life and she had some music that I might be interested in hearing. Not an unusual call. It’s always a joy to hear that someone has valued my work.

I called back to say that I would be working in the morning, but would be off around noon. I called the number, and got the answering machine. I left a message and received a call back. She seemed a little hesitant and tentative, wondering if I might have heard of her, I asked how I might have heard of her and she didn’t quite know. She then asked if I had lived in Portland, Oregon, in 1971. I had, and told her so. She told me that her mother had left Portland after being involved with me briefly, and she had left pregnant. She was married and was separated from her husband at the time. There was some question about the paternity of the child, until she was born and then it was apparent that the child was mine. She was that child. She told me that her mother hadn’t wanted to tell me that she was pregnant, as she felt I was too young to deal with it. I was probably around 19 at the time.

I was absolutely floored!

This was something that I did not anticipate, although I certainly have created the possiblity. I had no recollection of her mother, but when she emailed me photos of herself, the resemblance was unquestionable!

She assured me that me wanted nothing of me, just to find out more about herself. She had fantasized about reconnecting with me, joked, as a child about me coming to get her and taking her away. She is now 36 and married and had found my website last night and decided to take the chance of connecting with me.

I can only imagine the anxiety of contacting a missing parent and facing the risk of being rejected by someone who is such a part of you. No, I guess I don’t have to only imagine it. I feel it as well. Perhaps, she won’t accept me!

We are blood and bone. We are family! She is my only child, (as far as I know! Apparently the status of this can change suddenly and unexpectedly!)

I have no words to express how amazed I am by this! How wonderful it is to be a father in this way.

There are so many things to share. We talked for a long time, though it could never seem long enough. I shared with her our family website. Showed her how she could connect with her grandmother’s blog. Showed her my blog. Told her a little about our family. Invited her to the family reunion in August. She asked if I would be willing to meet face to face and I told her anytime she wanted to, I was more than willing. I hope to see her very soon! She is checking on flights from Southern California to the Bay Area.

She told me that her mother had told her, when she was ten, that she had a different father than her two sisters. She told me that she never felt that she fit in, she would sing and make up songs and her family would make fun of her. She was the only musical one in the family. I told her that her grandmother and great grandfather were also musical.

I savored the conversation, and told her what a gift she had given me. That not having had a child, has been a sorrow for me. My life has included so many other people’s children and a few that I think of as my own, but no one who carries my blood. No one whom I look at and see myself. There is nothing like that in this world. She has given that to me.

I am thankful that she had the courage to reach out and take the risk of being rejected by me. I will reach out and take the risk of being rejected by her.

Her grandmother just called to see if it she could talk to her. It’s a big day for us all!