Sitting on an orange bus, gazing through the raindrop covered windows as it rides the rough cobblestone streets, in a coastal town, on an island, in the middle of the Mediterranean. The bus stops; a small group boards and I glance at their faces. Waiting at a terminal in Phoenix Sky Harbor as I stand in boarding group A, I watch a group of boys. Cousins? Friends? Brothers? College classes, Fisherman's Wharf, Denver, St. Louis,
Las Vegas, New York- faces, eyes, ears, noses, personalities, mannerisms, voices; people watching. I think most people do it, (can you not?) and some not only like people watching, but see it as a past time. My people watching has always had another undertone however. Do they look like me? And while not a constant thought for thirty-two years it has always been a passing one.
I think everyone who comes and looks at our blog knows that I was adopted. I was raised by two loving and wonderful people who many never thought weren't my biological parents. Innumerable times I was told: "So your siblings are all adopted but not you, right?" or "You're just a chip off the old block" or " You look just like your Dad." I always wondered if I really did. The whole nature vs. nurture argument. If you people watch like I do you see some families look like carbon copies, others have a nose that skips a generation or ears that skip two. Chloe sounds just like great aunt Lucy when she answers the phone and Scott has grandpa's laugh.
For ten years I have had pieces, names mostly, some heavily read letters, some notions, opinions, stories, both my own and those of others. After several more letters sent to old or incorrect addresses, after numerous thoughts, and most importantly one e-mail message sent to an uncle who does not really know me but gave me an amazing gift in his reply and to whom I am so grateful; I got to speak to my biological mother, Annette. She gave me my prequel, or rather the preface to my current life story and an opportunity for additional chapters I look forward to.
So how does this tie into people watching? I have also had the opportunity to speak to Carolyn, my
biological grandmother and then after two very long weeks the opportunity to finally see where my smile, my eyes, my height all come from. Through photos and an amazing visit I got to see what for thirty-two years I have wondered about as I ate lunch in Folsom, rode the train to Pompeii, flew home from Maui, and watched a family gazing at the fireworks display in Vancouver.
Excuse my personal entry on our family blog, but I figure most who read this are family or dear friends with whom I'd like to share this important entry in not only my life story, but in my
family's life story. (please interpret family as loosely as you like as it applies in multiple contexts)
Here are some photos of that visit- I hope to add more in the future.
What a nice big brother.
.....Happy Holidays!
