New beginnings .....

So, mom just has the twins to care for now.  My younger brother has gone off to live with a successful attorney and his wife in a lovely suburban home.  I'm taken in by my grandparents, with implicit promises of a better life and major spoiling.

"And they all lived happily ever after!"

Right?

Whoooooa there, pardner!  Not so fast ......

Six minus one equals three .....

No, that's not an example of the "New Math" we were subject to the 1960's.  I'll explain .....

 

Some time after my mother's visit home in early 1958, the decision was made that adoption was the appropriate choice for my younger brother and I.  So, with the departure of our father, my family of six became a family of three (that no longer included me).

This is the last time my mother would hold me in her arms:

My older sister looks very apprehensive. 
Was she afraid these people were going to take her away, too?

 

Desperate times .....

In previous posts, I mentioned that my father was a civilian mariner in the Military Sea Transport Service.  He would be home for one week, then gone for three.  It was during one of those weeks home that I was conceived, and my birth occurred 13 months after my older siblings were born.

Thirteen months after I arrived, our younger brother was born.

And here's where I have to rely on my imagination once more.

The Baby Scoop Era .....

Most people who've been touched by adoption are aware of what's known as "The Baby Scoop Era," a period lasting from approximately 1940 to 1970 during which unmarried (white) women were encouraged to give up their babies for adoption.

 

Well, not so much "encouraged" as coerced.

 

Again, remember that life was different a half-century ago.  Birth control for women was almost non-existent and generally available only to married women.  While available -- for a price -- abortion was illegal, and often dangerous.

Money .....

When my grandfather died in 1993, we found that he'd saved several letters and telegrams that my mother had sent to him and my grandmother.  It's hard to imagine now, when everyone tweets, texts and instagrams constantly, but a half-century ago, many people didn't have private phone service.  When they did, they were required (thanks, Ma Bell!) to rent their equipment from the phone company -- and long distance calls were VERY expensive.

This kind of luxury was not within my parents' meager budget, so when my mother needed to contact her parents, she did so in writing.  Letters could take several days to arrive, so when it was an emergency, she'd send a telegram -- C.O.D.

I imagine .....

For this part of my story, I have to use my imagination.  It didn't occur to me to ask my mother until it was too late, and my siblings don't remember, because they were too young at the time.

 

So here's my early story as I've written it for myself .....

 

Was my father on hand when I was born?  It's possible, but I don't think so.  Certainly he wasn't around too often, since his job would have kept him away from home much of the time.  My guess is that my mother brought me home alone, or accompanied by a friend.