At age twenty I found out that the father I had known all my life, was actually my step father. He married my mother when I was about 2 1/2, and also adopted me and gave me his last name.
We were having a big family dinner in San Francisco at my Uncle Louis' house, the patriarch of the family. My step father had too much to drink over dinner and said, "Aleta, I'll never forget the first time I saw you. You were running down that hall with no clothes on." It's funny how I remember the exact words he said, I am certain of that. When we got home that night, I went upstairs to ask my mom what dad was talking about. She said she was married for a short time, in New York City. She went on to say he is Italian and they met on Off Broadway, in an acting class. My reaction is odd to me now. I stood up, went into her bathroom and looked into the mirror, and said "I guess I do look a little Italian". That's possible, half the people in Italy have blue eyes. But I'm not sure what else I thought. My mother said the reason she didn't tell me was because she didn't want me to think I had anything less than my sister and brother.
When you are twenty something, and all you want is to be a mother, finding my lost family was not a priority. It never occurred to me, at that time, that I should connect with my Italian side. I was busy being newly married and raising 3 rambunctious boys - I was in heaven! Suffice to say, I did meet my father but barely saw him over that year. He worked 2 jobs and was very busy. I lived with him, my step mother Gigi, and 3 of her children for a few months. I met the father of my 3 boys in New York, and we were married that next year. Living in New York would have been a perfect time to ask to meet my cousins, my aunts and uncles, and my grand parents. However, I am sorry to say I did not. I was too busy being 22, and everything that goes along with a young person in the 70's.
Enough about that regret! Remember how I always say how blessed I am? Here comes a big one. Almost 4 years ago I started volunteering at a local community center that helps people in need - help with food, school supplies for children, and sometimes money for rent. I became friends with Keith, and hence his wife, Barbara Jo. They invited me to have dinner with them and to meet Jo's sister and her family. Jo mentioned she loves researching on Ancestry.com and asked what was my birthday.
Fortunately, I had my father's social security number and his age, and my aunts and uncles names from Gigi. Jo's career is computer tech stuff. She loves researching Ancestry and has had fun finding her ancestors. She allowed me to use her account but she actually did the work.
One day I was volunteering, and told Keith that I had found some information but I had a question for him. I don't remember the question, but that day Keith spent quite awhile googling, and putting in names, and hitting links, blah blah blah. He found an article in a newspaper in Staten Island, an obituary that might be my uncle. He said I had to use my credit card to pay $2.95 in order to get a copy. I said of course.
There it was - my Uncle Jack's obituary. I was very sad he had died and I would never get to meet him. But there were the names of his children, and grand children! My first cousins! I was practically crying. My Italian blood-line, my father was their uncle, their father or mother was my uncle or aunt! Now it was my turn to start researching - in Facebook. Only one cousin was on Facebook, but I got confirmation with her daughter-in-law. Because her daughter-in-law filled out the entire profile on FB, one thing I won't do. But I am grateful she did.
Part 2 tomorrow -
Good night and God Bless! Aleta
"You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them." Desmond Tutu - South African social rights activist and retired Anglican bishop
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