Amethyst Olive
Memory Project
Final Revision
6/2/2015
In the Name of Dog

I am allured by the sunlight peering through my blinds. My gaze shifts to the outside world, beyond the confinement of my closed off room and I quickly become enchanted by the evergreen landscape in view. The various shades of green and earth tones dissipate any somber melodies echoing in my core and I slowly began to feel myself float away through time. I am no longer in my room, but instead I am standing in the familiar wilderness retreat of my grandparents, revisiting blissful summer days.
Some people live by the concept of fate, the belief that our destination is predetermined and manifested by a universal force. Inevitably, our independent choices and actions cause a ripple effect in the universe that aligns us with our destinies. Even when we least expect it, life holds a promise of serendipity. No one can deny that with every decision we make, there is a reaction dependant upon that choice. I have always been conflicted about the possibility of fate dictating outcomes. Whether or not we are driven by fate or free will, or if either is an absolute truth; the story of how Steve came into my family’s lives swayed me to believe that there has to be some level of unavoidable happenstance.
On my grandparent’s remote piece of property, there is a clear, cold and steady river where my sisters, cousin and I, barefoot and muddy, would spend countless hours playing. One summer, while venturing around, we stumbled upon something hiding in the bushes. It was a little red boat, just large enough for the four of us. We were so excited to have discovered our own secret treasure. It felt like someone had generously left it there just for us, and we were thankful.
The first task was to find a large enough branch that we could use as an oar to help guide the boat during our adventures. This did not take long, as we were surrounded by trees, and soon enough we were all attempting to simultaneously scramble into the boat. Once we were all settled in and had figured out the best way to balance our differing weights, we were ready to take off on our first mission, “the wild rapids.” Looking back, these rapids were not entirely wild, but at the time they were satisfactory.
Most of the times we attempted to travel down “the wild rapids”, we were unsuccessful. The boat would get stuck on a large rock and we would quickly have to devise a plan back to shore. Although getting the boat to successfully ride down the rapids was difficult, when we did manage to make it happen, the ride was entirely worth our efforts. Nothing could beat the feelings of joy and accomplishment that came with the ten seconds of gripping onto the sides of the little red boat while you rode with the roar of the river, laughing the entire time. As the day came near to an end, we would hide our newly found friend back into the bushes and run back up to the house to spend time with grandpa and grandma in their little cabin-like sanctuary.
The boat lasted us a couple more summers before it became too delicate and eventually developed a large hole in the bottom of it. This was okay, though. As I was getting older, I started wanting to go to their house to spend more quality time with them. Lacking a healthy relationship with my own father, I looked up to my grandpa as a major male role model. I no longer needed things like games with our small boat to entertain me, but rather I looked forward to my grandpa’s stories and advice on becoming an adult. When we conversed we would often sit up at the counter where I could always depend on there being a bowl of chips and a soda pop awaiting me. He would pull up a stool, most likely wearing a pair of blue denim overalls and a plaid flannel. I respected his ability to listen to what I had to say without belittling my feelings, and his compassionate heart. He was able to be honest with me in kind words, and supportive of my decisions. Most of all, he was always able to remain patient for me to discover important life lessons on my own, and forgave me when I made mistakes. I looked up to him more than he could ever know.
Before I knew it, more summers had come and gone. It was now the year 2014, and I had begun my second year of college. My sisters, cousin, and my schedules had become more complex and we stopped coming up for our annual summer weeklong visit together at Grandpa’s. Although visits started becoming more and more spaced out, I still always looked forward to our conversations when I was able to come over. School and work had become routine, but eventually it was finally spring break. I decided that now that I had some time, this would be a good opportunity to go up and see my grandparents. I packed up my backpack, hopped into my dented blue Ford Taurus, and began what seemed like a never-ending drive from Olympia to where he lived in the foothills of the Cascade mountain range.
After the cumbersome drive I had finally arrived. As I turned into the long gravel driveway, which is emblazoned with a wood-crafted family name sign, Gracie, my grandparent’s beloved dog, was quick to greet me. Soon I was in the house, following our tradition once again of sitting at the counter and munching on the bowl of chips and drinking a soda. We began our conversations as usual and grandma went on to explain the current activity with their humming bird feeder. She ushered me toward a widow in the house and directed my eyes to branch on a tree out front. As I looked closer I noticed a very small orange figure. Once my eyes further adjusted I was able to distinguish that the small orange figure was in fact a tiny male humming bird. I only knew he was male, as my grandma had once explained to me that only the male humming birds were decorated in the bright and vibrant colors. When I confirmed that I could see him, she excitedly went on to explain that this was his territory. Even in a gush of wind the tiny little bird would hold onto the branch for dear life and continue to stand his ground. Anytime another male would try to feed at the feeder he was quick to fly over and attack. She told me none of the other male birds had a chance; he was “just a beauty, and a feisty little fella.” I was always excited to listen to her stories about the various little critters that lived on their property, as she would enthusiastically display her passion for animals while telling them. I found this to be an admirable quality. Since spring had begun, their property was bursting with new life and plenty of new critters for my grandma to enjoy.
Along with all the animals visiting amongst the property, one could also usually find a couple of neighbors or locals visiting my grandparents as well. It wasn’t a surprise to me at all when after my grandma had finished discussing with me the humming bird events, Gracie began to bark and sure enough a couple who lived just down the river came walking up the driveway.
If you were ever to meet my grandparents, one of the first things you might observe about them is that they are type of people that love getting involved with their community and the people around them. They are well known in whatever community they surround themselves in. Most people tend to be drawn to my grandpa’s level headed and understanding persona and my grandma’s welcoming and passionate personality.
My grandpa opened the door and invited the couple in. Both of them wearing overalls, I began to feel like maybe I’d missed a memo. They were covered in what looked like saw dust; I could tell they must have been working on their house. As he greeted them, my grandma shouted from the kitchen that they were just in time for pizza and to help themselves to a beer. They happily agreed and took a seat at the hand crafted dining room table. The man looked at my grandpa and said “So Rodger, who’s your guest?” As I walked over, my grandpa began to introduce me as his oldest baby granddaughter; he paused to quietly laugh. “Not such a baby anymore I suppose, she’ll be twenty-one this summer.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and looked me in the eyes in a sort of disbelief; my eyes could now actually meet his.
Later on that day, after having our various discussions and enjoying some time with the neighbors, my Grandpa asked me if I had talked to my mom recently. I told him I had and that she was doing well then followed by asking him why he wanted to know. He then asked me if she had updated me on his recent news. Confused as to where he was trying to go with this conversation, I asked him what his news was and he began to tell me a story that would change the dynamic of our family in a way I never anticipated.
His story began in the summer of 2014. It was beginning to be morning and nothing seemed to be any different from the following mornings that year other than the fact that the summer was coming to an end. Rodger woke up and assessed his plans for the day remembering that he needed to finish some electrical work for his neighbor May, the small witty eighty year old woman who he and my grandma, Pam, had become very good friends with over the years since moving onto the property. He got up, made some coffee and he and Pam headed outside before it got too warm and uncomfortable to work.
Rodger liked to live a fully scheduled life. Although he and Pam were retired now, they enjoyed spending the majority of their time working on projects, such as perfecting their various hot rods, crafting things like signs for local businesses and sculptures in the wood shop, taking leadership roles in the local gun club and keeping up on various chores with the property and their animals. If there was one thing they were not, that was lazy. They had planned well, worked hard in their careers in the police force, and manifested their dream retirement vision of peaceful seclusion in the beauty of the mountain. He and Pam had always made a point to instill in their grandchildren the importance of saving and the value of patience.
Gracie was excited as ever to run around and keep them company as they worked. Although Gracie mostly accompanied my grandparents to enjoy the presence of the wilderness and all the smells and curious discoveries it had to offer, she also knew she had an important job to enact when necessary. Her job was to warn my grandparents of any intruders. If she heard, smelt, or saw anything unfamiliar trying to encroach onto the property, she would anxiously, but bravely, bark to alert her pack. While my grandparents pondered what moves they should conduct next with the electrical work, accompanied in the process by May and her care giver, Gracie began to bark and run towards their gravel driveway.
Rodger figured this must mean they had some sort of guest. There was a moment of anticipation, but no car or person appeared. Maybe it was nothing, maybe Gracie was falsely alerted, certainly it wouldn’t be the first time. He waited a few seconds more, only to discover that indeed they did have a visitor. In the distance a small figure began to appear. As it neared Gracie’s bark began to intensify and her energy spiked. Once the figure neared closer, Rodger was able to distinguish that it was a little dog running towards their direction. It was clear that the dog was scared, as it shook nervously and came in for comfort. Rodger thought perhaps the target shooting he had been hearing in the distance that day had frightened the dog causing her to run away from where ever she belonged. Mays caregiver and Pam coaxed the small dog and tried to look for a collar, but there was none to be found. It was clear that the dog had belonged to someone, as it looked very well taken care of.
Rodger decided that the best thing to do was to go around and post “FOUND DOG” signs on the highway. The longer they had the dog the more May and her caregiver started to fall in love with the small pet and wanted keep it. Rodger explained to them that he thought someone would certainly miss her and figured that the owner had to live nearby.
By late afternoon no one had called or come by looking for her. Rodger and Pam decided to drive up and down the highway to try and find the owner. As they were very familiar with most of their small community it did not bother them to enter the secluded properties nearby. While they drove, they played a game, trying to guess the name of the dog. Several names were thrown around but Rodger concluded that the dog looked like a Lucy. After searching for more than an hour, they came across one last driveway. They weren’t particularly familiar with this driveway but decided it was worth it to venture up it and see. When they neared the end of the path, hiding in the tall timber hilltops, they discovered a small, older looking mobile home. As they pulled in to park, two dogs that looked very similar to the dog they had rescued came running out. Rodger thought to himself, that this must be where this dog belonged.
Following the dogs, a man stumbled out. When he noticed Rodger holding the dog he immediately called out her name, “Lucy!” Rodger looked at him baffled. He had actually gotten the name of the dog right. The man came up and introduced himself as Craig. He explained that the dog actually belonged to his late wife who had passed away in March. When Rodger introduced himself to the man, he seemed to recognize his name and asked him if he went to Lincoln High school. He began to claim that Rodger had dated his wife Mary when they were both in school. Rodger looked at him and politely said “yes, we dated back then.” The man then looked him in the face and bluntly asked, “Do you know that you and Mary had a son together?”
The reveal of this information shocked me. I asked him how he felt about this encounter and overwhelming news. He began to explain that he was filled with a stir of emotion. How could this be? It was as if the dog had known all along, a perfectly planned encounter. He began to ask Craig everything he could about his knowledge of his potential son. What was his name? Would he want to make contact? A million questions tangled and entwined in his head; along with a throwback of memoires that hadn’t been touched in a very long time. The days that he attended Lincoln High School seemed so far away that he would almost have to squint his eyes to see them.
In 1969 times were complicated for Rodger and the pressures of being a man were extremely present. He had learned to grow up fast, as his father passed away when we was twelve and his mother needed him to work in order to support their financial needs. To him, high school seemed like an endless waste of time. Although his mother was very clear on the fact that she wanted him to graduate, to him it didn’t seem important. To add onto that, the realization of military service loomed over him. Viet Nam was going strong and he knew if he didn’t take action he would be drafted into the Army. He could not imagine himself wading through rice paddies in Army clothes. He had decided that he should join the Navy instead. Along with his military boot camp, his job as manager at the Roxy Theater in Tacoma, and his relationship with his girlfriend named Mary, he had other priorities.
His girlfriend Mary and he had been having problems in their relationship for some time. Looking back, his memory of her was always that of a rebellious spirit. She had had a rough home life; which eventually lead to her being made a ward of the state, as she was living in a group home for girls in South Tacoma while they were dating. As an example of how wild she could be, he remembered once on a hot afternoon, he had gone down to visit Mary at the girl’s home. In a pair of his blue tattered cut-off jeans, that had no pockets, he walked into house and habitually tossed his car keys onto the coffee table. The house mother of the building approached him and invited him into the kitchen. He and her had a wonderful relationship and usually would have long worthwhile conversations. Unknown to Rodger, while he was conversing with the housemother, Mary and her friend snuck down the stairs, and grabbed his keys. They hoped into his 1955 Ford 2door post, and took it out for a joy ride. Marry did not know how to drive nor did she have her license. She managed to drive the car a few blocks before crashing into a parked car. No one was hurt but the both cars were wrecked.
After a few more attempts of rekindling the relationship, they broke up for good. Rodger remembered his cousin approaching him once to tell him that he had seen Mary and another young man “hanging all over each other” at a fair in Portland. Rodger knew she was seeing another boy locally and he now was convinced that their relationship had ended for good. He never heard anything more from her afterwards.
Rodger thought back to the moment he discovered hearing Marry was pregnant. He was at his local laundry matt washing some clothes. He slipped a couple coins into the machine and waited for the load to begin. Looking out the window a familiar car pulled up. It was Elof Jacobson, Mary’s father. Although Marry had not been living in Elof’s home, she had brought Rodger over to meet her parents a few times. He came in and approached Rodger explaining that she was pregnant and he wanted to know what Rodgers intentions were. Rodger explained to him that he and Mary had not dated for a while and that he knew she had another man in her life. Rodger asked the man to please ask Mary frankly about the situation to see if she was certain it was his. They agreed that if it was certain, Elof would then contact him and Rodger would take responsibility. Rodger never did hear back from Mary’s father.
In 1970 the lottery for Rodgers birth year finally crept up on him. By then he had great relief to watch as number 24 was drawn for his birthday. Because he had already been enrolled in the navy, this prevented him from getting drafted into the Army going to Viet Nam like many of his other friends. For now he was still managing the Roxy Theater; where he would fall in love with the box office girl Melinda, my future grandmother.
Eventually Rodger had to leave for basic training. Through the correspondence of letters Rodger and Melinda decided to get married when he returned home. By this time Rodger was eighteen and Melinda was nineteen. When he returned they rented a small house together and his first daughter Chantel was born.
By 1974 Rodger had joined the police force as an officer. Not only did he have Chantel, but now a second daughter, Rhonda, my mother. Although he had never heard anything about Mary’s Pregnancy, it still haunted him to think that there could potentially be a child of his out there.
Rodger began to get very busy with his work. He was still in a place of trying to step up the ladder in his career and make something of himself. He was working many extra hours and undesirable shifts such as graveyard. My mother remembers having to keep very quiet as a child during the day to avoid interrupting his sleep. The lack of energy and time he had began to put a strain on the relationship with his small family.
March 12th 1980 it was Rodgers birthday. Rhonda was five years old at the time and remembers he was working a graveyard shift, thus was sleeping during the day. They had to celebrate his birthday briefly, as there was no time to throw a small party. Rather than making a home made cake like Melinda normally would do, they went to Safeway to get a Personal cake. Looking back she didn’t know why they were doing this, but now it made sense that maybe it was a sign that her parents were becoming less enthused about their relationship. Instead of having a cake made with personal thought, Melinda was giving him a cake made by a person they had never met. It felt like it was more of an obligation than a true sentiment. A way for Melinda to allow the girls to make the day their own, without projecting any negative feelings she might have been having about him.
They walked into the bakery where Rhonda was presented with an array of cakes to choose from. There was chocolate, vanilla, and even carrot but the one that caught her eye was the one decorated in a bright blue frosting. She thought this would have to make him happy because she knew it was his favorite color. It was as if the store made it especially for him and she had the privilege of finding it. As they neared the street to their house, Rhonda’s excitement grew as she was anticipating a fond reaction. They pulled in, brought in the groceries and the special blue cake, and patiently waited for him to wake.
When Rodger came out of the room, dressed sharply in his officer’s uniform, Rhonda ran up to him and hugged his legs. She told him to come sit down; she had a surprise. Rodger hesitantly walked over to the table glancing at his watch. His eyes were still tired looking, and he seemed almost absent from himself. As she handed him the cake she smiled and awaited his praise. He mumbled a thank you, and told her he would have to eat it at the office. Melinda sat quietly and observed, and Chantel was merely present.
Rhonda was disappointed. She hoped for him to be as excited as she was and didn’t understand the detachment. She felt maybe she didn’t do a well enough job in picking out a cake. Looking back she realizes that in actuality he was probably experiencing a lot of stress and conflict in his life with the lack of balance with his career and family.
Even though Rhonda had both of her parents in her life she still never felt like she really knew Rodger. Even while interacting in their common interests and when she began tagging along with him on motorcycle rides, down at the station, or fishing, there was still yet to be a real bond. While she sought out attention in having common interests, Chantel won his approval by being well behaved and a good student. Since Chantel was the first born, they had already had time to establish their own connection before any dissolution.
Before long, the differences in priority defined Melinda and Rodgers relationship and they decided it best to separate. For Rhonda and Chantel, their relationship with their father became an every other weekend event. This made the distance between them more prominent. He always longed for having the relationship with his children but there always seemed to be something in their lives that prevented them from truly defining their relationships. Although they started out being a nuclear family, eventually Melinda got remarried, and Rodger married Pam. The common theme that blood doesn’t have to define who your family members are only became a stronger truth over the years as our family continued to get divorced, remarried and have various children.
It was now the year 2010. Rhonda and Rodger boarded off a plane and officially entered California. An unfortunate tragedy hit out family as we had lost Chantel to a horrific accident. She had been living in California where she relocated with her husband and daughter in the year 2006. Due to the accident, they had gone there in order to help make the necessary arrangements and support my cousin and uncle. Rhonda remembers this being the first time they really bonded, as they both needed each other’s support. Only they could understand each other’s pain, which cultivated a dimension in the relationship that they had never known. While staying at the hotel near Chantels home, they talked for hours about life and shared stories of the past. They each gained a newly formed perspective of one another.
In the morning while they drank their coffee, Rodger was somehow provoked to mention something to Rhonda that she had never heard him say before. He began to explain that he might have another child in the world; filling her in on the relationship he had had with Mary and context of their story. He told her to be aware that someday she could potentially find out that she had another sibling. He took the moment of bonding as an opportunity to disclose details of his life to her that he had never considered displaying. She appreciated his honesty but dismissed it as a possibility as she thought the chances were to slim based on the criteria. Although she wouldn’t feel negative toward the sibling, she thought possibly he was just considering this due to the grief of losing a child and the realization that she was his last closest living family member. Maybe he was wishfully thinking.
After their return from California, they continued to make a point in meeting and their relationship grew as they started a new tradition of getting together for lunch once a month. Life went on as usual, just with a newfound sentiment that held strong in their hardship.
When my grandfather finished telling me the story of how he had found out about his son, I wondered how he was feeling, as I could not imagine what he was currently experiencing. Everything about the situation was so bizarre and unexpected. As I sat there and continued to listen, he explained to me that all the information that he had to go off of when talking to Craig was that the sons name was Steve and that he might be a child psychologist. He told me after months of searching he was finally able to track him down and make contact. He explained to me that although they had been able to meet in person and he had a strong feeling that he was his son, they both wanted to get a DNA test to prevent any feelings of disappointment or false hope for either of them.
While he talked to me he pulled out his iPad to check his email. He told me that any day now, he would be receiving the email that confirmed whether or not Steve was actually his son. Sure enough the results were waiting for him in his inbox unopened. I observed him closely as I waited in anticipation for him to reveal the truth, looking for any indications of the answer I could find. For a moment there was silence, and then a grin. He looked up and said “Well it says here that Steve is 99.9% my son.” My grandma paused her conversation with the neighbors who were still visiting to double check that she had heard him correctly. “That’s right, Steve is my son,” he explained to her. My grandmother excitedly turned to the neighbors and shouted, “It’s a boy!” They stood up to give my grandfather a hug and give their congratulations.
They had already heard the story about Steve and were more than thrilled to hear that the results were positive. My Grandpa walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne. He smiled at me and handed me a glass. This would be the first time I had ever drank alcohol with my grandfather. Once everyone had their glasses filled we cheered and celebrated. My grandfather emailed Steve to tell him the results and called my mother. She was glad to hear that the results were positive as well.
After everyone had heard the news it had been decided that my grandparents would host a dinner so everyone could officially meet the new members of the family. Rodger and Steve had a mutual feeling of wanting to further pursue their relationship and connect their families. Steve, his wife, and three children would be coming to meet my mother, three sisters and I. They already had met with my grandparents prior to the dinner.
The day had finally come. I met my mother at her house as we decided to just take one car up together. As usual it took a good while before everyone was ready to go. My mother always described getting us all out the door as difficult as herding cats. We all pilled into her car and were on our way.
During the car ride I asked my mother how she felt about having a new brother. She told me that she was happy, happy to have the opportunity to meet him and his family. This made me feel content. As far as I knew nobody seemed to have any negative feelings about the situation. Once we arrived, as to be expected grandma was making hamburgers and hotdogs, there was a bowl of chips on the counter and soda pops fill the fridge. I was excited that Steve and his family would get to experience this tradition. We all talked while we waited for their arrival, none of us knowing quite what to expect.
Finally, after what seemed like more time than had actually passed a van pulled into the driveway. They had arrived. My grandpa opened the door and welcomed them in. A taller slender man with curly faded hair that you could tell used to be a brighter red and wire frame glasses came walking through the door. He looked as though he could be a very wise professor. He had a gentle and friendly demeanor about him and he introduced himself with a welcoming smile. Although he did not resemble us physically he carried himself in the same personable and calm manner that I recognized in my grandpa. His wife, daughter and two sons followed in just behind him. They were friendly, but quiet, almost looking overwhelmed by all that was there to take in, but seemed excited as well.
As we conversed it only became more and more apparent our relation. Between us all we had so many personality traits and interests in common. It was a constant entertainment to keep discovering our different similarities. Mostly there was a general quirkiness about us you could not deny. Even talking to his daughter Mikala we not only discovered we had a similar interest in studying psychology, but that she would also be attending her first year of college at The Evergreen State College, the same college I attended already.
As we talked I watched my grandpa and Steve sit at the dinning room table. My grandpa had brought from upstairs one of his giant photo albums full of our families history. I watched as he turned each page carefully, describing each picture with as much information he could possibly remember. It was a priceless moment to observe.
During the duration of the evening, I became more and more curious. How was Steve feeling about this meeting? Was he as excited as my family? Once I had worked up the courage to ask, Steve then began to tell me all of his feelings about our quasi-family reunion. Earlier that morning, Steve had been nothing but excited to be venturing up to Rodgers house. As his wife drove, the road on which they traveled began to slowly become engulfed by the presence of many trees and it had begun to rain. To him the rain made the drive that much more of a beautiful experience. It allowed him to appreciate the situation more and more, almost feeling like it was a symbol of a new beginning; for the rain washed away old tails of dust, and brought new life to the life that needed it. He thought about what an adventure this was going to be; not only was he about to endeavor into a new opportunity for more family, but they were also going to be visiting people he had never visited and driving a route he had never driven.
Growing up Steve had always known he was adopted. Although it was apparent to him already, he remembered when he was about five years old his mother having a children’s book about adoption. She sat him on her lap and exposed him to what it was all about. For him the adoption had never bothered him, as two very loving parents and a loving sister had taken him in. He grew up with a respect for whatever choices his birth mother had felt she had to make. He figured that adopting a child was a very selfless thing to do so he always held her up on a pedestal; she had other options, she could of put into action getting an abortion, or struggled to raise him without the means. Instead she had chosen to try to give him a better life, and for that he always had a special place for her. He was appreciative of her choice but never felt it necessary to know who she was, He was content with the life he had received.
Steve had a pretty healthy adolescence experience. His parents were supportive of whatever interests he had in those times. He told me that in Jr. High School, he decided he wanted to play the sax, and even though neither of his parents had experience with music they got him a saxophone that he would fall in love with playing. He joined his school band and played all the way throughout college. This is what would eventually bring him together with his future wife Melissa. She was in choir and he was in band, so there musical interests brought them into similar crowds, and they ended up having some classes together. Once they hit High School their friendship grew even more. Eventually graduation had come and they ended up both attending the University of Washington in Seattle. Steve studied to get his degree in child and family psychology and Melissa in social work. This is where they began to fall in love.
After they graduated from college they decided to get married. They were engaged for two years before officially taking their vows in the year 1994. A few months after they were married she became pregnant. This would be the beginning of a very hard experience as she lost the baby. She would miss carry another nine babies after that. This is when they decided that it was probably best for them to adopt instead of producing a child of their own. Both having careers related to social work, and with Steve’s personal experience, they had always been supportive of the adoption process.
They brought in their first few foster children and remained foster parents for two years before discovering that Melissa was pregnant once again. This time there were no difficulties. Their first natural born daughter Makalia was born that year in 1996. Once she was born they decided that it was a sign that they were done being foster parents and were ready to take on raising their own family. Following the birth of Makalia, their first son Stevie was born in 1998 and then a second son Robbie in 2004.
Steve had a lot of odd jobs through out the years. He had put going off going to graduate school for the moment, as he was getting married and didn’t want to take out any expensive loans. He wanted to become a teacher but continued to instead work his position at a preschool. Eventually he became a director of a childcare center and then did contract work with the department of child services working in the system as an intermediary. He had done things from being a cab driver to becoming a real estate agent. He decided to become a real estate agent the year after his mother and sister passed away in 1998 due to a tragic plane crash. He had been commuting to Seattle from gig harbor and decided it best to buckle down and do something closer to home so he could be close to his family. He was able to sell one house in a years time but decided it wasn’t for him. He needed to be doing something with his passion, so decided to become a Para educator for the school system, thinking in the future he still wanted to become a teacher. This would give him the experience he needed while he worked on getting his teaching certificate. He worked for seven years in a self-contained classroom with kids with behavioral disorders in a high school. At one point he felt pretty sure that he was going to go into special education.
Once he got his teaching certificate he decided he wanted to try teaching in general education classroom. This is what he was doing presently, and he was content. Life was good. He often thought if there were one thing that would make it better it would be having a larger family. Not only had his mom and sister passed, but also so had his dad. His wife only had her mother so they remained a very small group of people. He was grateful for what they had but couldn’t help but wish that his children could of experienced having cousins, aunts and uncles or even more than one grandparent in their lives.
Steve lived his life very rarely thinking or dwelling on his biological parents. Although he never had a burning desire to meet them, in college he had had an opportunity arise to meet his mother. While he was living in Seattle there was a children’s home society down the street from his home, the very one that he had been adopted through. This sort of brought up some feelings of curiosity he hadn’t had before. His parents, specifically his adopted mother, had told him many times, that if he ever wanted to meet his biological parents, they would support him. He figured he might as well stop by and see if there was any registry were mothers and children could reunite. Although he didn’t have a big passion for the discovery, he couldn’t help but think, “Well what if she’s looking for me.”
He put his name into the system and a year later he got a phone call from the agency saying that she had also put her name in and wanted to know if he would want to meet with her. They coordinated through the children’s home society their consent and later talked on the phone to set a time and place. They decided to meet in a T.G.I Fridays in Tacoma for lunch.
She brought along two of her daughters and he brought along his wife. He remembers feeling like the meeting went wonderfully. He believed that she wanted to meet just to know that he was okay. Maybe she had a lot of guilt, even if she knew it was the right choice. He felt like she was content with the way his life had turned out thus far. He decided by the end of the meeting that he wanted to further pursue the relationship and get to know her better. After the meeting he sent her a letter explaining that he had had a nice time. She didn’t respond, so he sent her another letter, still never receiving a response from her.
Confused about the sudden drop of communication he received a letter from one of her daughters. In the letter she explained that Mary had another son who was in prison, and that he had become increasingly jealous of his mother wanting to get to know this other son while he was in jail. Steve decided he was no longer wanted to pursue the relationship, as he did not want to endanger either he or his wife with an angry and unstable man.
Life went on and Steve began to forget about it. For another eighteen years the thoughts of wanting to know anything about his biological parents laid dormant until he received a curious letter in the mail. The letter was from an intermediary from the court, and in it said “my client has found our under extremely unusual circumstances that he is your birth father and he would like to know if you would want to meet.” He couldn’t believe what he was reading. Was it a scam? Maybe if it was real this man was just after a kidney or money.
After it was confirmed from the intermediary, that Rodger was well established and wasn’t seeking anything, Steve agreed to make contact. He felt like this was good timing as he himself wasn’t in a time of need, and if this ended up being true this could be a perfect opportunity to have more family. They talked on the phone for two hours and decided to meet for dinner. He and his wife met Rodger and Pam and once again the meeting went well. He felt a real connection and was hoping the DNA results would come back positive.
Our recollection of the past is something so personal and subjective, that at times it can be difficult to determine its accuracy and can easily be hidden beyond reach. However, even with its potential for error, it is so crucial that the past is documented in order to learn and be progressive in our future. Throughout our lives, the past can be provoked involuntarily by simply gazing at an object or by a conversation topic that elicits a sentimental connection. Unveiling our past helps us determine the truth in our current reality.
After the dinner at my grandfathers everyone was filled with joy. It was wonderful time. The more we thought about it the better it seemed. Although Rodger, Rhonda, and Steve, had all lost family, they had all also now been given a chance for new ties. It was the beginning of a new chapter for each of them as they continued to meet and get to know each other. Although I cannot tell you if fate really does dictate the outcomes in our lives, the sequence of events that lead my family back to Steve has confirmed any feelings I’ve had that say, sometimes things really are just meant to be.