Author Archive

I spent the past three days working 20 hours and coming home to read two of Haven Kimmel’s books cover-to-cover.

The first one, A Girl Named Zippy, is a conversation with a new friend whose life story of not-that-unusual-but-yet-still-unimaginable is told in such a way as to draw you in and make you hope you’ll be friends with this person for life.

Zippy was a girl who didn’t seem to fit in the world from the start. She spent the first three years of her life silently pondering this (while steering her mother to converse with God about how she’d love this defective child anyway), then the rest of her life determined (and mostly succeeding) to not care.

I was drawn in to her stories because I could relate to living in a world wrong for you but somehow finding kindly people to take you in anyway. Zip is the youngest of three, which I (being the oldest of them) found an interesting new perspective. I briefly wondered how my younger brothers saw me growing up, as the author described her adoration of her older brother and sister who seemed determined to protect her (all while remaining disinterested,) and twirl her brain out of her head at the same time.

Her mother’s character was especially hard to get a bead on. As the story commenced and Zip describes the almost squalor of her home environment in bits and pieces, as an afterthought and only when necessary to propel another, more important part of a story, it becomes clear that her mother loved her and neglected her at the same time.

In Kimmel’s follow-up novel, She Got Up Off the Couch, the author explores her mother’s character even more. The reader becomes sympathetic to the mother, later proud of her, but in the background wholly disappointed in a woman who couldn’t even be bothered to make sure her child was bathed and had clean clothes. In the modern times and big city life of today, I wonder if Zippy would have spent some time in foster care. But not in Mooreland, Indiana in the 1970’s. Neighbors and her friends’ mothers would take her in, wash her clothes, give her a bath, feed her, and send her home. The author doesn’t reveal if she ever felt any shame over this.

The second novel is filled with stories that draw you right in, just like the first. It did leave me wondering what was wrong with me, in that I don’t remember my childhood much at all. But in the acknowledgments of the book, she reveals that her siblings helped her. Maybe that’s the difference - you remember your childhood if someone is around for you to discuss your shared memories with.

Towards the end of the last chapter of the second book, there is a heartbreaking paragraph that foreshadows how Zippy’s 13 year old life is about to change, and in a few heartbreaking sentences she tells that she is about to suffer the ultimate betrayal a girl could ever face. I’m aching to know what happens next. Her website shows no hints of a third edition of her tale, so I’m not going to know.

I was, in fact, so curious as to what happened in the life of the adult Zippy, her brother and sister, how she felt about her mother and father now, that I scoured over prefaces, the books’ dedications, the acknowledgments at the end of the books. (Normally the stuff that pains me to glance at.) It just led to more questions. How could Zippy - the Quaker girl who never could give her heart to Jesus despite being forced to go to church three days a week - end up in seminary school, as her “About the Author” blurbs declare?

Two novels stuffed full of of Zippy, pouring open her life for me, allowing me to take away her stories and do what I will with them, and the question of her remains unanswered but fascinating.

I highly recommend these books, but save yourself some time and buy them both at the same time.  you will finish the first one and want to get right started on the second.  Trust me.

In the comments section of the post where I proclaimed that I was “the child that ruined the family,” this is the comment:

I would agree. I think the $4 gas per gallon will change a lot of this..

Now how someone would think that a $4/gallon price of gas would make my family’s memories of having me in it turn joyful, or promote anyone to get Lasik surgery (which is where the return link of the commenter led to), I cannot explain.

Where I live kind of sucks, lot-wise. I live next to a school who for two years never mowed/weeded by my split-rail fence. The weeds got over four feet high for two years. Now they kind of mow twice a summer, but their weeds have ruined my yard. I’m not allowed to put up a privacy fence on that side of the property.

Across the street is a public swimming pool. I’ve never been - don’t swim and don’t wear swimsuits either.

But I do love my view. And I do love the fact that bunnies hop around my yard sometimes.

Sunday the mountains were misty - didn’t capture well on film. It was beautiful. You could see the rain coming down in the distance.

I also got to see a mommy rabbit who hopped pretty far away when I approached, but her baby rabbit let me get pretty close on the other side of the fence before it hopped away. Luckily for me, some kid from the high school next door vandalized my fence, so I was able to take a picture of the baby as the mom watched in the field.

Unfortunately the baby bunny accidentally hopped into Moose’s rock poo garden, where he does his pooin’. I tried to clone tool out the poo.

Whazzup?

It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book that I literally couldn’t put down. I read Merle’s Door by Ted Kerasote in just two days, despite having to travel out of town both days.

It is an engaging story about a guy named Ted who makes his living as a writer and lives in a tiny town in Wyoming. A dog enters his life and chooses Ted as his owner. He discusses their 13 years together, describing a nature-based lifestyle that I can’t even imagine. Intertwined with Ted and Merle’s story are fascinating passages about studies regarding animal behavior, and whether or not what Ted saw in Merle supported or refuted the scientists.

Yes, you’ll cry at the end. Take out your contacts. Anyone who has ever loved an animal knows a sad ending is inevitable. As Ted mentions in his book, it’s an unfair decision by nature to let birds and turtles live 100 years, but our beloved canines only stay with us for a decade or a little more, if we’re lucky.

You may also feel guilt at the end, for Merle had a life any dog would envy. As I read, I’d pet Moose as he lounged on the couch with me or laid at my feet, feeling wholly ashamed at the horrible dog-mom I am, compared to the friend Ted was to his dog.

If you love dogs, or love the link between humans and animals, this book is a must.

Between my Dish Network (which I don’t always love, but DVR rules) and my recent re-signup to Netflix, I come to you a thoroughly entertained person.

Yesterday I tried the “Watch it now” feature on Netflix for the first time. It was awesome!

I don’t have my computer hooked up to my TV, so I just watched it on my computer screen. They have a device you can buy for 100 bucks so that the shows/movies do play on your TV, but my computer screen was fine.

I watched the first season of The Office. There was one episode I hadn’t seen before. Some episodes I’ve seen so many times, I just skipped them.

I have the ‘3 DVDs at a time’ subscription (under $17/month) so that gives me unlimited Watch it Now movies/shows.

I don’t want to sit in my uncomfortable computer chair and watch everything over the internet but it is a great way to see if you like a show or series before you have them mail it to your house.

Also Netflix has member profiles where you can add friends, share movie lists, etc. If you have a Netflix account and want to share your movie ratings with me, click here to add me as your friend.

I was adopted in Missouri, which is a closed adoption state. Basically, that means that I would have never known I was adopted if my parents hadn’t told me, because my birth certificate has their names on it, with no indication that it was a re-issued or changed birth certificate. It also means I have no right to any information concerning my adoption.

It’s a controversial issue. I recognize this. So please save your comments regarding the rightness or wrongness of my decision to search for my biological relatives. My business, my choice. Not for anyone else to judge.

I found information in a variety of ways. Things the adoption agency told my mother at the time of my adoption proved useful later in my search to verify I was on the right track. I bribed a state employee to get the name and birthdates of my mother (Natalie) and my older half brother. ($45 — an odd amount, but I paid it.) I verified the last name this worker gave me against a last name I “uncovered” on a document, and they matched.

It is interesting how I “uncovered” the last name on a document. My parents had some letters and such from my adoption. One of them was an old Xerox copy of a form. One blank of this form had a line that said “Baby Girl Drunkbunny”. The name was written in pen on top of a thick layer of white correction fluid. Remember how old xerox copies used to be made on paper with a shiny surface? I carefully erased off the white correction fluid and could see my birth name. The last name of my biological mother.

However, I could not find my biomom through searches. She was obviously using a different last name now, decades later.

I had researched information on and off for 15 years. Through an adult adoptee support group’s connections, I found out my grandfather’s name. Using Ancestry.com, I got his social security number and date and place of death.

I called the library in the town and state where he died to get his obituary, which would list his surviving relatives. I was so excited because I knew this could be it: the breakthrough I’d been waiting for!

The librarian was nice but said I’d have to go to my library and give them a cashiers check and they’d fax the request for the obituary to them, then they’d fax the obituary (after the check had cleared) back to my library and blah blah blah. Then, after approval from the Pope and a resolution by Congress, I could have a copy of the published obituary.

For the first time in 15 years, I was actually close to finding my biomom, and to have this thrown in my path was a bit too much. On the verge of tears, I explained why it was important and asked her if she could just read it over the phone to me. And she did! God bless that librarian!

Out of the list of survivors, the only one I could find a number for (yay interweb!) was a step-aunt half a continent away. I called her immediately. She was suspicious of my phone call. I told her that I was Natalie’s daughter who was given up for adoption. (Natalie was her stepsister). She said she didn’t know Natalie had given a baby up for adoption. Then she said:

“You know that Natalie is dead, don’t you?”

Um, no I didn’t.

For some reason, I wasn’t surprised by the news. Disappointed, but not surprised. Weird.

My step-aunt said she’d call my aunt (Natalie’s sister) and call me back.

Within 15 minutes, my phone rang. It was my very excited aunt. Her first words to me:

“We’ve been looking for you!”

It was the greatest feeling.

Over the next year and a half, my aunt and I spoke often. I never got to meet her because she lived so far away. Last time I talked to her was 10 days before she died.

She had some problems (bipolar with poor disease control), and it was at times difficult to maintain a relationship with her, but she ended every phone conversation with “I love you.” I said it back and meant it.

Because of her health and emotional problems, it was difficult to get information about my mother from her. She promised to send me pictures of herself, my mother, and their family, but she never did.

I got in touch with my half brother Michael, who is four years older than me. He was receptive, but we lost contact. I also got in touch with both of my mother’s ex-husbands, and a few close friends. Very interesting information. Every one of them said I had her laugh.

I am still in email and snail-mail contact with my younger half brother. I have yet to meet any biological relative face-to-face.

I found out some ugly truths, and was disappointed in the lack of info about biofather, but I’d do everything again. It was worth it. It gave me some peace.

It also reinforced my decision not to have children of my own, due to depression issues in the family and other problems.