Family

Sorry if you saw this post and it disappeared and here it is, back again. I actually had posted it absentmindedly while I was writing. I don’t know if this means you will have to repost your comment or not. Sorry.

Last week Wednesday, for World Poetry Day, I had posted a few of my poems and kind of wondered out loud if I should make it a regular habit, like Curmudgeonly Monday or Throw It Back Thursday but I couldn’t think of a clever name for it. My sister, Beverly, the classy one of the family, posted this comment,

“So sometimes we abbreviate the days of the week as MON, TUES, WED, THURS, FRI, right? One suggestion is: Words of Expression Day (WED) and post on Wednesday.”

And I thought that was a really fine idea. It might be too fine for this blog, anyway. I don’t know if I am really even giving that whole idea serious consideration. I do have something of a poetic bent but when I go back through my old stuff, I can see that a lot of it was just junk. Garbage that I shouldn’t have wasted time typing up. But I had written it and I did think it was really something at the time. I wonder if Poe ever felt that way, but he didn’t live long enough to re-read his stuff 15 to 20 years later. I’m going to take my time but will try to present you with what I see as quality work now. The stuff I posted Wednesday was stuff I’m kind of pleased with.

I do like WED – Words of Expression Day, though. It sounds high class which is what a lot of people think poetry is supposed to be. What with all this indecision I should probably call it Waffle Wednesday. Like I say, I haven’t decided yet.

I say Beverly is the classy one in the family and I know that nobody in or out of the family would deny it, but the rest of the family members are wonderful as well. I have a lot of family that has “adopted” me over the years and we have a lot of family that we have “adopted.” Brothers and sisters who actually have worked at becoming our brothers and sisters. It works best when both sides adopt each other, and some people fit right in and make themselves at home. This is how we like to do things. And then we have “adopted” children who have also adopted us. So far I have one natural son and three natural daughters, plus another son and I am starting to lose count of how many daughters have adopted me and/or that I have adopted.

I take the adoption thing seriously and don’t use the word lightly. I don’t know a lot of people who were adopted as children but the few I have met said it felt really wonderful to know that somebody wanted you and wanted you in their family forever. Some of them didn’t know it right away but came to realize what a beautiful thing they had.

The whole adoption thing has been on my mind a lot more lately since my wife started doing our genealogies. I went for over fifty years never knowing or even guessing the story. While in our genealogical search we are looking for what appears at this point to be a drunken sailor who took advantage of a young, confused, sad and lonely girl at least half his age, if not more, to be my bio-father, there was someone else. There was a man who loved and felt compassion for this same young girl. She was only twelve years his junior and in big trouble. In those days for a single young girl to be pregnant was very bad and for a man to step up and marry her, knowing she was pregnant, was pretty bold. This man, who made such an impression and influence on my life and is still, even now, influencing my behavior. This man of love and compassion and boldness in the face of what had to adversity in the times he lived, was my father, not some stumble-bum who wouldn’t own up to his actions.