What Is Going On?

So the delay between posts can be summed up like this:  I've located my birth father.  Such a simple thing, really, but taking my lifetime to complete.  I am still stunned at all that has transpired so recently, and am anxious to share this news.

But before I explain how I came to locate my birth father, I realize I still need to provide some details about my story -- as in, all the details about my story.  So here goes:

I grew up in Napa, CA to parents who had attempted to conceive but were told they could not.  My mom tells of having suffered some female trouble in her early teens which resulted in a build up of scar tissue in her fallopian tube which prevented her eggs from getting fertilized.  She knew that she always wanted to be a mother, and so she quickly pursued adoption.

I was six weeks old when she, my father and grandmother were presented with me at the Department of Social Services in San Francisco.

I was often sick during those first few years, which resulted in a tonsillectomy at the Oakland Children's hospital.  I remember a nurse leaning over me shortly after my surgery, advising me to notify my parents as to what a good girl I had been.  It was the early '70's, and she was wearing one of those old school nurses' caps affixed securely to her head.  I felt pleased knowing I had done so well.

When I turned 4, my mother informed me that she was pregnant.  Apparently this is not such an uncommon circumstance.  Perhaps already having a child releases the parents from the tensions and anxieties of attempting to get pregnant.  Whatever the reason, my parents gave birth to a child and suddenly I was no longer the center of attention.

My grandparents lived in town, along with my aunt and uncles.  Grandma worked at a toy store, and showered me with gifts whenever I saw her.  I had an electric motorcycle that I rode around our street, Barbie's townhouse, motorhome, sports car, you name it.  And my grandparents house was full of fun and fascinating things as well:  a real old-timey slot machine from the turn of the century, a pool table, cute dogs, and a swimming pool. I loved spending time with them, and they were clearly enamored of me, their first grandchild.

I loved everything about Napa:  the climate, the vineyards, the tree tunnel outside of St. Helena which we would pass through whenever we traveled to Clear Lake to visit my dad's parents.  I loved Patrick's, the candy store in downtown Napa, JFK park where we would go fly our kites, and Train Town just down the road in Sonoma.  It was paradise.

Until my parents informed me that they were divorcing.  Soon, my world was turned upside down.  We moved out of Napa and into a house that my grandparents owned in Vallejo.  My dad had a new girlfriend, grew his hair long and started wearing lots more leather.  We rarely saw him.  My mom, on the other hand, bought a Nova that was constantly breaking down and started seeing her friends' exes.  Suddenly, I was having to fend for myself.  I remember getting up for school one morning, lacing up my boots, and packing my lunch.  I walked the requisite distance to the school, only to find it completely deserted!  It was a holiday.  I felt so sad, and so alone.

My mom's youngest brother had moved in to our garage, which he quickly proceeded to outfit with a new water bed and sick stereo system.  Soon enough, we had a new baby sitter who drove a cherry red Camaro.   One day, the babysitter the uncle and my little sister and I drove to Kmart and just sat in the parking lot listening to the new Bee Gee's album.  I remember sharing my approval from the back seat by appreciating the way Barry Gibbs would inhale deeply before singing his refrain.  I just loved the sound of his breathing, in and out, and how clearly it was captured in song.

Then my mom started dating, and quickly our lives took a turn for the worse.  Mom was often gone on dates, and we were often left alone with the baby sitter, who had begun dating my uncle who lived in the garage.  Often, there was nothing to eat in our house and I would stare down the empty refrigerator willing something, anything to materialize.  Once I pulled out a crusty container of Mom's special tuna casserole:  mac and cheese with a can of tuna and a can of green peas thrown in for good measure.  Only this batch was clearly past it's shelf life.  

Soon Mom's new boyfriend was staying with us more and more often.  He had recently immigrated from Portugal, and was a barely functioning alcoholic.  His drinking quickly became more and more sinister, and he was often picked up by the highway patrol, spending nights in jail.  As his business depended upon his ability to drive himself to his various job sites, he and my mother devised a plan to move to a place where a California license would not be required.

That's how we landed in Moses Lake, Washington.