They say the best place to start a story is the beginning. That is why my mission this year is so very important.
A little background on me.... I was born in Chicago and raised in the Chicago suburbank of Burbank. I had a typical suburban childhood, we walked to school, came in when the street lights cme on and attended Church regularly. Our house was a new 3 bedroom ranch which over the years housed 2 parents , a Gramma, an Aunt and finally 5 kids. Family was #1. A few things were unusual, I lived with my Gramma before my parents got married, I had very few baby pictures and I was the flower girl at their wedding. Jump ahead to when I am 12 and am told I was adopted. Now this wasn't very troubling when I learned my Gramma was still my GRAMMA? As it turned out my mothers were sisters. One whole side of my family stayed the same. My Father would stay a mytery until I turned 40, in 1995.
I got married to my high school sweetheart and had 5 kids. The youngest was born with a major medical condition. A full medical history was asked for, what could I do? I only knew half. My Uncle then called an old high school buddy who's sister had married my birth father's brother. Why was this a secret? Who knows. Her answer was , everyone is dead and we know nothing to share. There I had it, no chance of ever knowing all those things to put my personal puzzle all together.
Years passed and I was blessed with grandkids and making sure family was number 1, my 3 oldest kids were lucky enough to know my Great Grandmother, 5 generations. Was I smart enough to ask all the right questions and take notes, NO.
On my 4th birthday my Mom and her second husband gave me a large manila envelope, in it was information on my father. Donald Joseph Rowan, born 12 25 1928. He was real, had a name and the even a cemetary name and date of death. My heart was filled with so much love that thry would find this info or me, but that was not all.
There were 2 names, June and Wilma along with phone numbers. He had a sister and thst sister in law from before. I couldn't wait to get home and call?
I dialed from my bedroom phone with shaking hands. Would Aunt June know who I was? Would she even want to talk after all this time? I did have a story to share with her, my birth mother had said , when I was a baby they went to visit this sister. She had 5 boys, all older than me and said she would keep me if I've the chance.
The phone rang 4 times and then a sweet voice answered the phone. Aunt June knew me, remembered the story and did her best to fill me in.
Her is where I will leave my stoy for today.......