Recruited .....

In the summer of 1980, I was (temporarily) a student at New York University.  Between classes, I often sat on a bench in Washington Square Park, alternately studying and people watching.  One day, I was approached by a clean-cut fellow who appeared to be in his mid-20's.  Hovering a few feet behind him was a young woman of about the same age.  She watched, smiling rather nervously, as the man started to talk.

 

He greeted me and said that they were members of an eclectic group of people who enjoyed music and art, were interested in social activism, and hoping to make new friends. He invited me to a potluck dinner the next weekend and gave me the address in Brooklyn.  I thanked him and said I'd consider it; he and his companion then headed towards a bench where another student was sitting by herself. They started talking and, I assume, she was extended the same invitation.

 

I admit, I was curious. I was also a little concerned for my safety, but assumed everything would be fine, since serial killers don't travel in pairs, right?

 

Good food, good music, good friends -- what could possibly go wrong?

Cancelling the Adoption Contract -- an update .....

Back in December, I detailed my quest to become unadopted.  Based on advice I received online and in correspondence with other adoptees, I decided to make direct contact with the Court where my adoption was finalized, and ask the current Judge to set aside the ruling.

I gathered my evidence, which included the letter and e-mails I received from the State's Adoption Records agency, copies of death certificates/notices for both adoptive and birth parents, a newspaper article detailing an adoption in Florida which was set aside a few years ago, and scanned diary entries from the time of my adoption, in which I laid out my unhappiness and despair.

In all, there were a dozen pages, including a carefully-crafted two-page letter presenting the facts and arguing my case.  Approximately two weeks later, a large envelope arrived from the Court.  Inside was all the documentation I'd carefully put together, along with this letter:

Short, but not so sweet.

The adoptees I've shared this with almost universally say that the Judge's tone is condescending, dismissive and unhelpful, and I agree.

I refuse to stop trying for an annulment, because I believe it's my absolute right, as an adult, to decide whether or not I want to continue being a party to a contract signed on my behalf but to which I did not agree.

I'm not sure what my next steps will be, but I'm not giving up.

Imaginary family .....

As I mentioned in my previous entry, a lack of childhood relationships led me to create several imaginary friends.  These friends, as relatively fully-formed entities, disappeared by the time I was dumped on my uncle and his wife.  However, I didn't abandon them entirely and, in fact, they would -- in another form -- be a part of my life for many years to come.

I'm not sure exactly how or when it started, but by the time I was nine or ten, I was acting out variations on scenes from favorite TV shows in my bed before dropping off to sleep.  As during waking hours, I was always the central character in the scene and during childhood, my character was always a hero of some kind.

I fought countless battles and saved innumerable people's lives -- ever stoically brave, never showing fear.

Always a hero.

In my imaginary life, I was rewarded for my heroism on an almost nightly basis.

Imaginary friends .....

As a child, I had very few friends.  There were a number of reasons for this:  when with my grandparents, we lived in an area that had very children of my own age nearby.  I wasn't able to develop many school-based friendships, since I attended the school(s) where my grandmother taught, and they weren't in my neighborhood.  By the time we arrived home from school, there was only limited time during which to nurture friendships with the few children who did live in the area.  

No doubt, though, the main reason I had so few friends was that I wasn't an especially likeable child.  Angry and self-centered -- more so even than typical for a normal pre-adolescent -- few classmates wanted to be friends with me.  In one Sunday School Christmas gift exchange I eagerly opened my gift and found two "Little Golden" books, written for children in first or second grade.  Since I was in 5th grade at the time I was surprised and when I looked over at the girl who gave me the gift, she smirked and stuck her tongue out at me.  She'd obviously intended the gift to be an insult -- and it was.

It's the thought that counts and, unfortunately, the thought was very un-Christian like.

Summer Camp Stories (part II) .....

The first time we put the canoes in water, I was terrified.  Seated in the middle, I tightly gripped both sides of the canoe.  "Don't worry," said one of the other girls in the boat, "it's really stable."  To prove her point, she grabbed the sides and rapidly leaned back and forth, rocking the canoe from side to side.  I shrieked, and she finally stopped.  Our inaugural voyage continued and we soon came upon a rocky area with rapids.  Having received only minimal instruction on how to handle a canoe in rapids, the other girls made a valiant attempt to go straight, but succeeded only in getting caught in an eddy, resulting in the canoe hitting the rocks and dumping us all out into the water.  Since it was a shallow area, I managed to again keep my head out of the water, but as I stood up I was crying and shaking in fear.

Our primary chaperone wasn't unsympathetic, but he didn't coddle me, either.  "You're fine," he said, "it's just water."  He was right, of course, and I had no choice but to get back in the canoe and continue.  It wasn't too long before I actually began to enjoy canoeing, and by the time camp ended, I was one of the most enthusiastic paddlers in the group.  (And I have never since fallen out of a canoe.  They really ARE very stable.)

I learned to love canoeing, but I was never crazy about having to portage.