Lost and Found

     Family. What is it? Is it blood? That's the assumption. The idea that your birth family (mother, father, siblings), and those that came before you along that same bloodline is your family. Your genetic heritage, as it were. It makes sense. You look at current photographs and you see the same smile that your Mother has, or you stare at another picture and say, "Hey Dad, we have the same eyes!" Sometimes it's downright eerie, isn't it? For years, ever since I was a child, I had people telling me that I was the spitting image of my Mom. I was never very good at noticing those types of things growing up, whether it was my family or someone else's. I mean, it's easy with siblings. You look at some brothers and sisters and you just know. They're...well...they're siblings. Even a dope like me can see that. You are such an idiot! But parents and kids...well, for the most part, I sucked at that. And then one day when I was staring at some old family photos my mother had excavated from some ancient drawer...there it was; staring right back at me. My mother and I were standing next to each other around the year 1984, and I said, "Holy shit!" I actually said that, I said..."Holy shit!" Again...idiot! I kid you not, we might as well have been twins. That's family.

    Having said that, as I have become older and have read more and more about 'families' created out of foster care, adoption, and divorce/remarriage (like I and my family have been), I have become more and more sympathetic to the idea that family is not necessarily and/or solely "blood." Could it be that family can be something other than, or more than, blood? Could it be the unconditional love that is shared between people even if they are not blood? I know what you're thinking, and don't worry. I'm not going to get into a whole philosophical discussion as to how the closest of friends can be more of a family than your actual 'blood' family, which I could do very easily and convincingly. We'll keep this simple.

    Not long ago, I wrote a piece about the trials and tribulations of a youngster in North Carolina whose name was True. You can read the piece here and I'm not going to rehash it except to say that the state of North Carolina was so hell-bent on trying to shoehorn this wonderful young black kid back to his birth mother, when she was clearly unable and/or unwilling to properly care for him, or another black family because they assumed that the only 'family' that could care for True was a black family, that they closed their eyes to this wonderful white couple that had been his foster parents who, by all accounts would have offered (and desperately wanted to offer) True the loving "family" that he had never had and probably still doesn't have to this very day. THAT'S what I'm talking about. Sometimes blood IS NOT thicker than water. Sometimes unconditional love is all you need. 

    Which brings us to the point of this tiny essay. Some of you who are kind enough to read these meanderings of mine are familiar with the name Rev. Mel. Mel Norton is a retired Wesleyan minister who has been a part of my family since before I was born. Let me be even more clear; Rev. Mel is not blood. He's family. I mean, he's Canadian, but I have never ONCE held that against him! You're part Canadian, you moron! Oh, yeah...I keep forgetting. But to my eternal shame, I have never mentioned the wind beneath Rev. Mel's wings...his lovely wife Sandra. Why haven't you done that, Boss? Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to, my fanged friend? Because I'm an idiot! And I'm going to rectify that tragic mistake right now. You see, Mrs. Norton has written a wonderful book titled, Finding Me. 

    Finding Me touches on the topics mentioned above, but in a much more personal, engaging, and eloquent way. It's a memoir about a life that began in desertion, continued in a haze of hidden truths, confusion, and shocks that no child should have to endure and try to process. I talked about belonging and family earlier, and Sandra's memoir goes to the heart of what those two words mean in the context of a foster care system that can be at the very least confusing, and at the very worst, heartless. My friend is a five-star story teller, and this narration about her quest to somehow connect with her biological roots is engaging and poignant. All of these questions about family and roots, blood and identity and belonging will make you think and think some more about these issues even as your head explodes with the incredible surprise ending. I love being challenged by a writer. Sandra Norton challenged me, and I hope you give her the chance to challenge you. 

    I've mentioned a lot of books in this space, fiction and non-fiction alike. I always hope that someone might read something that I've referenced. But I think this is the first time I've ever, what's the word, endorsed, a book. Given the subject matter and the skill with which she tells her incredible story, I'd like to make this my first From The Golf Room Book Club selection! Do yourself a favor and click on the following link: Finding Me by Sandra Norton. She was lost in an emotional maze that many children never find their way out of...and somehow she was found. And in doing so, she found herself. Enjoy! 

write to Peter: magtour@icloud.com