Fourth of July and Family History

Me as city namesake, American Patriot and U.S. Constitution signer, Jonathan Dayton. 

     Two years ago I decided to do my genealogy and discovered I had a number of relatives who fought in the American Revolution. The Patriots were on my mom's side of the family and no one had ever taken the time to dig that deep into the family's roots. As a huge lover of American history this was an exciting discovery. I began pursuing membership in the Sons of the American Revolution as a way to honor the service and sacrifice my ancestors had made. If you aren't aware of the Sons of the American Revolution, they, along with the Daughters of the American Revolution, are two separate organizations comprised of decedents of American Revolution veterans.
     After contacting a local branch of the organization, I was informed of all the paperwork I would need to complete. Not only would I need to show my genealogical connections, I would also need legal proof of the relation for every generation back to the Patriot. After completing my research and finding all the necessary Wills and Last Testaments, Marriage Records, and Birth Certificates, I presented my research and paperwork to the membership coordinator for review. After checking each piece of proof and making sure everything was in order, he determined I could apply for membership in the Sons of the American Revolution. 
      After a couple meetings and going to a few events, I planned on joining at the beginning of 2014. As life often does however, my plans were delayed because of work and family commitments and I never followed through with joining SAR. Though, I still take great pride in knowing my ancestors were there at the founding of our country helped form the nation we cherish today. 
     A few months ago after receiving my original birth certificate I decided to research my birth families to see if any of my biological ancestors had served in the American Revolution. I've found there is possibly one or two, but I haven't begun the process of digging up the legal proof to substantiate the connection. The information isn't so much for me but to pass on to my birth mother and father's families. This rekindled my desire to finally follow through and join SAR. However, something I only learned today is making question my desire. 
     A fellow adoptee in a Facebook group I'm a member mentioned she too had discovered a relative had fought in the American Revolution but was denied membership in the Daughter's of the American Revolution because she was adopted. I was shocked by this revelation. I messaged her that I had been cleared to join but then I realized I never told the membership coordinator I was adopted. Upon further investigation, I discovered the Sons of the American Revolution has the same adoption prohibition. I fully understand both are a lineal group, which means members can trace their genealogical line to a Patriot, but I would've never imagined they would exclude adopted people. Their online FAQ's, respectively, state: 

    

     I find this "rule" appalling on both accounts. If a child is legally adopted by a family then they should be granted the same rights as their parents or siblings. My family is German on both sides and even though I am adopted I claim it as my own. To me, becoming a legal member of another family is the whole point of adoption. I can only imagine a family who has adopted a child telling that boy or girl, "sorry, you can't join our group because your adopted." Why is a bloodline so important? How does sharing the same DNA make someone more worthy of a candidate for membership? This "pure blood" nonsense sounds like something out of Harry Potter, or worse. 
     Yes, I would probably be able to join once I obtain the legal documents which biologically tie me to a Patriot Ancestor, but to me this isn't the point. The point is I am a member of the Hollst/Fryman family and I have the legal papers to prove it. Therefore, I am part of the family and they are a part of me. And this policy doesn't take into account the many adopted children who still do not have access to their original birth certificates. There are undoubtedly many adopted children who are descended from Patriots and could gain membership in either of these organizations but have no way of proving their lineal connection because of their state's laws. The only family they know is the one they were adopted into and that should count when it comes to determining an individual's legal and social genealogy. 

     This week is the Fourth of July and it's good to remember The Revolution was fought to give us freedom. And yes, freedom includes the Son's and Daughter's of the American Revolution having the right, as short-sighted as I believe it is, to exclude the adopted children of the families of American Patriots from their ranks. And I have the right point out how shortsighted and arrogant their polices are on this matter. I get they require a bloodline but I'm sure if both organizations dug deep enough, they'd find discrepancies in the lineage of some of their members. Think of how difficult life was in the 18th and 19th Centuries and how many children became orphans after their parents died. It's reasonable to assume some of those orphans were taken in by families who may have descended from Patriots and took their new family name. I would bet some of those "lineal" connections have been used for membership. As a side note, Declaration of Independence signer John Hancock was adopted by his aunt and uncle who had the same last name. 
     My Patriot Ancestor Private Jacob Hoover fought in the French and Indian War, was a member of the German Regiment which crossed the Delaware River with George Washington, encamped at Valley Forge during the bitter winter of 1777, and received an honorable discharge from the Continental Army in 1779. He is my ancestor and I will always claim this Patriotic lineage as my own, as I will my biological families lineage. I will continue to do my research and find the "legal" proof which shows my relation to the many Patriot ancestors I already know of and those I look forward to discovering. And I don't need to pay a bloated membership fee or wear a silly hat to be proud of and celebrate my heritage. Though, I love a good powdered wig!



    

"Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)"

     I must admit, I've never been a big reader. I read news articles, blogs, and non-fiction, in some form or another, almost every day. But when I want to lose myself I turn on music. The bookworm in the family is my wife Mary. Depending on my mood, I always find something to soothe or psyche me up in my iPhone, vinyl collection, or on the radio station I'm given the keys two nights a week. I find music to be an inspiration and really puts me in the right frame of mind. Especially to write.

     As I've been writing these blog posts and the beginnings of a book I plan to publish about my adoption story, I've put on music from the era of the late 1960's. I churn out whatever I feel to the sounds of The Beatles, Simon & Garfunkel, Bob Dylan, and Otis Reading, just to name a few. I choose this music for two reasons; 1) I love it, 2) I imagine my birth mother Rosemary listening to it while she went about her day. I recently asked my Uncle Jerry what his sister liked to listened to, but it was a long time ago and he couldn't recall any of her favorites. I've always taken pride in the fact I was born in the 1960's (albeit, 1969) during the Flower Power era of music and before The Beatles broke up. My mom and dad liked music and I grew up listening to folk artists, Motown, the standards, and even early Elvis. I didn't listen much to Top 40 until the late 1970's, which was rather bad, looking back. I also missed the hard rock period and didn't know who Led Zeppelin was until my younger sister started listening to them during her teenage rebel phase in the early 1980's. 

     Through Uncle Jerry, I connected with a friend of Rosemary's who was able to recall some of the music she listened to after I was born and given for adoption. Wendy revealed to me Rosie liked music which was "happy, upbeat and positive." She also became a Christian in the early 1970's and enjoyed contemporary spiritual music, as well. But Wendy recalls her listening specifically to quite a bit of Classical music and remembers her favorite piece being Pachelbel's "Canon in D." She also said Rosemary liked country, but not the "dog died, my truck was stolen and my wife left me" type of country music. I'm guessing she wouldn't have cared for the parody I recorded years ago called "Beer Drinkin' Drifter." It was done under the pseudonym T-Bone McGee while I was producing a radio show at WHIO-AM. Our hope was some Nashville record label would be foolish enough to pick it up and release it. No one did, but it will live forever on Youtube (listen at own risk).

     Over the past few weeks I've been compiling a soundtrack of music which reminds me of Rosemary. Of course, I never got to met her before she passed away in 2005 but all of the songs have special meaning. Some of the tunes are from the late 60's but others are more recent and convey relevant messages or feelings in regards to her. I will listen for inspiration when ever I sit down to write about her. For example, right now I'm listening to Pachelbel's "Canon in D." It's quite fitting, after all. Not only was it Rosie's favorite, the piece was also playing as my wife Mary walked down the aisle at our wedding in 2012. I'm sure that day somewhere Rosemary was enjoying it once again. 

Father's Day Renewed

     Father's Day wasn't the same after my dad died in 2002. What made that first Father's Day without him even more poignant was he died only nine days before. He was buried with a few Father's Day cards, unread. 
     While he was alive, I made sure to wish him happy Father's Day every year. A few years we played a round of golf or went to a ball game. Some years it was nothing more than a phone call or going out to dinner. In 2000, we went on a weekend trip to Cooperstown to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. The love of baseball was the one thing we shared in common. That was the last Father's Day I spent with him. The following year we weren't speaking, after he and my mom briefly separated and I was not real happy with him. I wish I would've handle it differently.
     Ever since his passing, I make a trip to a cemetery near Brookville, Ohio to visit his grave around Father's Day. I like to spend a few minutes giving him an update on what's going on in my life. This year, I made my visit on the way home from visiting my birth mother's grave in Greenville for the first time. Needless to say, I had a lot to share about finding my birth parents and family. I know he would've been thrilled for me. 
     Typically on Father's Day, I receive a lovely card from my mom, my wife makes me a special breakfast, and my son gives me a big heartfelt hug. All of which are perfect in every way. This year though, I received a Father's Day gift I won't soon forget. I woke up to a warm and gracious message from my birth father, Darrel.
     I've never met Darrel in person, but over the past month since reconnecting, we've talked on the phone several times. As Father's Day was approaching, I wasn't sure how to handle it. I feared a Father's Day greeting from me might be too assertive, given the newness of our friendship. But I also was concerned if I didn't acknowledge the day it could lead to hurt feelings. I certainly didn't want diminish his role in my life. After all, if it weren't for him I wouldn't be here. So, after much contemplation, I sent him a short greeting on Friday afternoon. This morning, he conveyed to me his gratitude upon reading the message. I feel like the foundations of a father/son relationship are being laid and I couldn't he happier.
     I would have never guessed reconnecting with my birth parents and family would lead to such joy and contentment. Before I began my search, I read horror stories of adoptees being rejected by their birth parents while trying to reconnect. On some level, I prepared myself for such disappointment. But other than my birth mother still being alive, I can't imagine my story being any better. Every nugget I uncover in my search is a shining reminder of how lucky I am. 
     For me, Father's Day has been renewed and I look forward to many more with Darrel. 
      

A Letter from the Past Cont.

Here is a copy of the letter my birth mother wrote on 9/11/1969, seven days after my birth. I certainly am conflicted at times and especially tonight. I love my mom very much and am thankful for everything she's done and continues to do for me, but I am terribly sad for my birth mother, Rosie. Though I've known it was not a easy decision for her at the time, reading her words today make me realize how much turmoil she was experiencing and how painful giving me up truly was for her. I have no doubt if things had been different for Rosie, she would've provided me a good home and would've been a caring mother. I've said it before, but I'm thankful, no matter how hard it may have been, I was given up for adoption and placed with the family I was. I've been blessed to have not one, but two selfless mothers looking out for me during my life. And just as my mom does today, I'm sure Rosie is still looking out for me from above. 

A Letter from the Past

     In 1993 I received a biographical health summary of my birth parents and their immediate families. Twenty years later I found a similar letter dated from 1970 which my parents received when they adopted me. Perhaps my late father knew this letter was in the family safe, but my mother had no recollection when I found it. I don't think it was kept from me intentionally, rather it was probably filed with the rest of my adoption papers and forgotten. Much of the information is consistent in both summaries, but there are a few details which needed clarification. In the l970 letter, it is stated "there are twins on the father's side of the family." The 1993 letter reads the father "has a twin sister." These two statements are not conclusive. Which letter writer is correct? Why did the writer of the 1970 letter not include my father was the twin, instead only saying "there are twins in the family?" There is a big difference between “being a twin” and “having twins in the family.” Also, the 1993 letter refers to my birth father in the past tense. It reads "he had," while the 1970 letter read, "he has." Since beginning my search I know he is alive—I've talked to him and will be writing about this aspect of my adoption story later. But when I received this summary in 1993, I had no way of knowing he was still alive. Perhaps the letter writer knew something about his fate which I didn't.
     One of the other inconsistencies, though small and insignificant in the grand scheme, is the 1993 letter mentions my birth mother reports allergies to soap and fur. The 1970 letter neglects to mention either. I did my best to avoid soap, but I must not have inherited her allergy as my mom made sure I was bathed and never had any allergic reactions. I did however test positive for an allergy to horses in a skin prick test administered by my pediatrician. Thankfully, my parents never bought me a pony. But these small incongruences made me wonder what other information might be missing.
When I sent in my birth records request to the Ohio Department of Health, I received my original birth certificate and adoption papers. There was nothing in the packet resembling the information found on either biographical letter. I was perplexed by this inconstancy. I always figured the information would be the same at both the local and state level. Clearly, there were two adoption files—one with the state and another with the agency that facilitated my adoption. In this case, it was the Family Service Association located in Dayton, Ohio. At the time of my adoption, they were known as the Red Feather Agency and they are also a private organization with their own private files. This is where the biographical information came from in 1970 and 1993.
     After a few weeks, I decided to inquire about my adoption file. Instead of calling then directly, I Googled the name of the social worker who provided me the 1993 information and sent her an email. I didn't call because they typically need such requests in writing and I thought an email would offer more credibility. I can imagine these agencies get calls and requests like this all the time and probably have their guard up. Plus, I've read some private adoption agencies are less than forthcoming when it comes to releasing details and I figured if I needed to get an attorney involved having everything in writing would be wise. Either way, it didn't matter. After not hearing back for about a week, I called and left the social worker a message and returned my call informing me she was now working for a different agency. She did however suggest I call the agency directly and ask for more information.
     When I first called the Family Service Association, I spoke to a very kind woman who politely listened to my story. She took my contact information and gave me the name of the person who would be researching the file and calling me back. After a week or so she called back and I briefly explained to her my story and the discrepancies with the two letters. She asked what I was looking for and wanted specifics. Immediately, I thought this was a ploy on her part to stonewall me or gauge my true intentions. No doubt in her position she's probably heard all kind of crazy stories from both adoptees and birth parents and needed assurance I wasn't some scammer or troublemaker. I told her I had already been in contact with my birth mother's family and that she had passed away. I also told her I had talked to my birth father and was looking forward to developing a friendship with him. And, I had the corresponding documents to support all of my claims and I would be glad to send them to her. Then she asked why I wanted to know what was in the file. I told her, "A", she's my birth mother and I wanted desperately to find a copy of her handwriting and signature. And "B", I'm writing a book and if there was something in the file which could shed more light on my adoption story it would be "miraculous!" At that very moment, she said “You're in luck!” She revealed to me there was a letter in the file signed by my birth mother, Rosemary. I'm not lying when I say I think I heard angels singing in unison. I asked if she could scan or fax it to me, but she said it was against agency policies to send documents in this manner. She asked me to FAX her my ID and current address and promised to drop it in the mail the next day.
     After I got off the phone, I called my wife and the conversation began as to what the letter contains. In my exuberance, I didn't ask the social worker to discern whether it was a personal letter or a signed administration document or adoption form. Is it possible, forty-six years ago when Rosie gave me up for adoption, she wrote a letter to me in hopes of me one day reading it? Given what I know about her now, this is very likely the case. She was a writer and I have no doubt she would be compelled to explain the circumstances of my birth and why she made the decision she did. My wife wholeheartedly believes this is the case. I spoke to my aunt and uncle about the letter and they seem very hopeful as well. But I'm trying very hard to keep my expectations at a reasonable level. However, of everything I've learned about Rosie or have been given by her family, including many photos, her engraved silver baby cup, a volume of plays she wrote for her church, stories about her, and the wonderful gift of her family and our new friendship, next to my life, a personal letter from her may be the most incredible gift I could ever receive.
     Needless to say I'm anxious to get home and check the mailbox.

A Father's Voice

     Today I heard my birth father's voice for the first time on the telephone. I had seen his picture on Facebook, but planned to contact him later after digesting everything I've learned about my birth mother Rosie, and her family. But in that process, an unexpected death stopped me in my tracks and set me on a different course. During my investigation into my birth mother's life, I located her second husband, John, to whom she had been married when she passed in 2005, and his two sons, step-children she helped raise, on Facebook. I was concerned with contacting him directly, afraid my asking such personal questions about his late wife would be too intrusive and could bring up painful memories of her death. My desire is to be as accommodating and cordial as possible, never forgetting this adoption story does not belong only to me. I decided instead to contact his sons, thinking they might be more sympathetic to my inquiry, being sons themselves. My Uncle Jerry told me Rosie's family all knew about me, so I wasn't too concerned they would be suspicious of some stranger claiming to be their step-mom's long lost child. I sent both sons, now adults, a message and the youngest replied after only a few hours (I'm not sharing names out of respect for their privacy). He was both stunned and pleased I had found them. I assured him I wasn't interested in anything more than hearing stories and memories of his late step-mom. He promised to send me some photos, video and more details about who Rosie was as a person and a mother. I thanked him and told him to take his time. If out of the blue, someone contacted me asking for details on the life of one of my deceased loved ones, I'd need some time to gather my thoughts, too.

     I'm not sure if life or time is more fleeting. Neither are guaranteed to anyone and I was reminded of this brutal truth last week. A few days later, the son I had corresponded with called his dad to let him know I had found them on Facebook. He too was elated and asked his son to give me his phone number so I could call. The next evening, after having dinner with some friends, John died suddenly. Sadly, we never got the chance to talk. I had waited to contact this side of  Rosie's family out of fear they might not want to hear from me. Even though Uncle Jerry felt they would be open to it, I had no way of knowing for sure how they would react if I reached out to them. I'm less afraid of rejection, than upsetting someone else's life. And of course, I had no way of knowing John would die unexpectedly. If only I had taken the initiative and contacted them earlier, perhaps we would've been able to speak about his late wife and my birth mother. Perhaps he would've felt some closure on behalf of his wife. In the end, though, maybe knowing I found them gave him some closure on this part his life, after all.

     After hearing this tragic news, I spent the following weekend pondering whether I should reach out to my birth father or wait like I had planned. Again, thanks to Uncle Jerry and Facebook, I knew who he was, what he looked like and where he lived. Fortunately for him, he lives in Florida. Much too far away for me to stalk him. And as a side note, how did we ever live without Facebook? Many people have criticized the state of Ohio for not unsealing the adoption records until 2015 and I agree. However, I can't imagine trying to trace my roots or finding my birth parents without the internet, let alone Facebook. Imagine how many hours it would take to sift through stacks of phone directories or newspapers at the local library. Or calling dozens of wrong phone numbers until finding the correct listing. And God forbid sending letters via snail mail. It took roughly twelve days for my original birth certificate to arrive in Xenia from Columbus. It would've taken me less time to walk there and back. Email, messaging, and Facebook has made this whole process easy and to some extent, enjoyable. For this, Mark Zuckerberg and Google have my sincere thanks. I digress. Since he was right there, only a click away, I decided to message my birth father. I felt like I couldn't wait any longer or tempt fate. I needed to at least make contact, if nothing else. Again, life is fleeting and I couldn't risk something happening before we at least spoke. He got my message and responded. After a few failed attempts, tonight we finally talked to each other for the first time. It was only for a few minutes, as I was in the middle of my radio show, but I could hear in his voice he is eager to talk and has much to say. I look forward to learning about him and his family and the circumstances surrounding my birth. It'll be interesting to see where it all goes.