A family of pilgrims? Sort of

     The connection is distant. Very distant. But it exists nonetheless. Today my Uncle Jerry sent me a photo of a stained glass window my 2nd great aunt bought and donated to St. Patrick's Catholic Church in Glynwood, Ohio where her family attended. Her name was Catherine Higgins and her name appears at the base of the window. Eventually Catherine married a man by the name of Frank James Carey. 

     Upon receiving this information I decided to do some quick research on Ancestry and discovered Catherine's husband, Frank, was a sixth great grandson of a man named John Carey/Cary, who was born around 1612 in Somersetshire, England. He came to America in 1651 and is widely known in many genealogy and historical circles as John "The Pilgrim" Cary. Here's a short youtube video about Mr. Cary. 

     Well, as it turns out, my wife's 9th great grandfather is also John "The Pilgrim" Cary. While she's a direct decedent, my biological family married into the Cary line. Regardless of how, I suppose this very distant connection makes up kissin' cousins, multiple times removed. Which at this moment is no real consolation to my wife who honestly feels a bit weirded out. 

     I tried to do the math to figure out exactly what our connection is and how far removed we are as cousins but the math hurt my head. Uncle Jerry, please help!

Uncle Jerry did the math: Frank Carey, the wife of my 2nd great aunt, Catherine Higgins, is my 6th cousin 3 times removed. Frank's 6th great grandfather was John "The Pilgrim" Carey/Cary. 

It's in my blood

     I've written a number of posts regarding the dichotomy between NATURE Vs. NURTURE. Perhaps my struggles with weight gain, the gap between my front two teeth (before my dentist got ahold of me), or my flat feet can be attributed to my genetics. But how about the ability to string words together well, or sing a tune in-tune, or be comfortable performing in front of people, on the radio or on camera? Are these gentic traits or were they constructed by outside influences during my formative years? In other words, nurturing. It's hard to tell and it's an argument researches still quibble over to this day. If we could clone some of Elvis Presley's DNA would we create another megastar easily or was his environment the greater influence on his rise to fame? That's the question some ponder. 
     As I've shared before, my biological mother was a writer who wrote short plays, penned a few poems, and probably other interesting works or letters I'm yet to uncover. She also loved singing and performing and from the photos and home movies I've seen she didn't shy away from the spotlight. While I am not attempting to vouch for my own abilities, it's not too farfetched to say I'm a chip off the old block. My experiences and abilities certainly mirror those of some of my mother's.

Hosting a college TV show called Miami Valley Performs

     Many people who read this blog know I worked in radio and TV, both behind scenes and hosting a number of radio shows. I even hosted a few episodes of a college TV show (hopefully those tapes were long since destroyed). I related stories from the news, my life, or from people who wanted to share their story. One of my favorite aspects of hosting was the opportunity to interview people. Whether it was some rockstar or actor, or a local person with something important to say, I enjoyed talking to them and helping them relate their own stories. 
     I've been interviewed myself a few times throughout the years and it's always fun. I like the give and take of an interview and often discovered things about myself I perhaps hadn't thought about through their questions. One person I would've loved the chance to be interviewed by was my Grandpa Higgins. Why my own grandpa not Charlie Rose (my favorite interviewer on TV)? Let me explain. 

My mother Rosie, Grandpa Higgins, Uncle Jerry

     Since reuniting with my birth mother's family, from time to time I receive emails or notes in the mail that often include little tidbits from my biological past I was unaware of. Certain memories will come back to them and they share whatever detail that comes to mind. The email I received from my Uncle Jerry yesterday was quite unexpected and surprising. It seems my Grandpa Higgins hosted a local TV show in Greenville, Ohio during the late 1970's. Now, Donald wasn't a professional broadcaster or anything of the sort, to be sure. He was a retired gentleman who attended church and was involved with the Christian Business Men's Association in Darke County, Ohio. Through his community connections he found plenty of guests eager to be on his show and from what I've been told and observed on family home movies, he had an agreeable and friendly disposition. An ideal host, I suppose. Don't know if he did an opening monologue, though. 

     My uncle reports he was once a guest on the show to talk about his experiences in the Navy. Jerry recalls the entertainment for that episode was a woman from Greenville, Ohio by the name of Virginia Bollinger. She was a family friend who lived in the same trailer park as grandma and grandpa and was a local celebrity of sorts for her ability to whistle with the beauty of a song bird. Apparently she was in high demand and performed at local schools, churches, nursing homes and appeared on Grandpa's TV show, probably to promote her debut record Whistling Melodies. 
     I'd be curious if Grandpa Higgins ever had ambitions as a young man to pursue a career in broadcasting like I did. Having hosted both radio and TV shows I certainly know the appeal. Though, unlike when I began working in the mid 1980's, Grandpa Higgins was deciding what career to follow when TV was still in its infancy. The thought of working in TV was probably the furthest thing on his mind. In fact he was only 16-years-old when the first TV show appeared over NBC on July 7, 1936. Not very many people saw this as there were only a handful of TV receivers in homes at the time. I encourage you read the info on the youtube page about this historical broadcast.
      My Uncle Jerry also revealed about himself, after he left the Navy in the early 1970's he auditioned at the Columbia School of Broadcasting in Los Angeles, CA. He passed the audition with flying colors but decided to pursue a career in electronics instead of a broadcaster. Though for a short time while in school and before we joined the NAVY he worked as a disc jockey at WDRK in Greenville, OH and then later at WGLM in Richmond, IN. 
     I think it's clear broadcasting and entertaining is in my blood. 

Four inspiring people from my life

     In my quest to better acquaint my biological family with experiences from my life they've missed, I thought I would put down on paper a few short sketches of the people who have most inspired and influenced my life, besides family, of course. There have been many people who have taken a special interest throughout the years and have left an indelible impression on my soul. These are a few of "adults" who inspired and helped during my formative years. 

Sharon Busch
     When I entered 7th grade I was excited to be in the choir. I had been in elementary school choir for a few years, had a few solos, and even performed in the school talent show, but junior high chorus was the real deal--especially with Sharon Busch. With Sharon, choir was no longer the cutsie activity where you showed up in your best outfit and sang whatever notes you could eeck out at Christmas time. In 7th grade we actually had to learn our parts and were held accountable. That's what I learned from Mrs. Busch; if you're going to sing, sing it correctly with punctuality and vigor. 

Sharon Busch

     I enjoyed choir through my 7th grade year but ran into a bullying problem my 8th grade year and dropped out of choir. The summer before my 9th grade year I had a job as a Dayton Daily News paperboy and a number of members of the Ferguson Jr. High show choir, Guy's and Dolls, lived on my route. One day in the middle of August a few of them stopped me and said the group was still in need of a tenor. Having not been in choir the previous year I knew nothing of the show choir as it had taken a several year hiatus when I first started attending Ferguson. I was a tenor and was interested in getting back into choir. I went and auditioned with Mrs. Busch the next day and promised I would stick with it. I guess I hit enough of the notes and demonstrated to her I could dance, because she offered me the final part in the show choir. 
     Throughout the year we did a great number of shows. I remember performing inside the old Dayton Arcade, Kings Island's Winterfest, the Dayton Mall, and countless churches and senior centers around the area. We also performed in a state choir competition and to this day I know a good portion of Ava Maria. Guys and Dolls was great fun and I made some really good friends that year. Towards the end of the school year she inscribed my yearbook with, "Someday your name will be lights." She was an amazing teacher and inspiration but right before the end of the year I let her and the rest of my choir compadres down.
     Besides being in choir I played soccer and towards the end of the spring season there was a tryout for a select soccer team I wanted to play on. The tryouts conflicted with the final performance of Guys and Dolls and I made the decision to skip the finale to try out for the soccer team. Mrs. Busch was none to happy with me and rightly so. I made the team but this was not one of my better decisions and I realized it right away. I never bothered trying out for any of the choirs in high school or any of the plays because I really felt like I fouled up and let people down. I regret those decisions deeply. 

Note from Sharon Busch

     Fast forward twenty plus years and I find myself working in radio and television. At some point I decided to get back into performing and began doing improvisational comedy. I did that off and on for a few years and then decided to begin taking acting lessons. Through lessons at the Human Race Theatre in Dayton, I met an amazing acting coach named Carrie Ellen-Zappa. She too became very inspirational to me through our classes and friendship and she pushed me to tryout for a production of Oliver! she was directing. I was cast as Mr. Bumble and I was thrilled to be part of a such a high quality production.
     Shortly before rehearsals ended and the show was about to go up, I decided on a lark to invite Mrs. Busch to the show. I hadn't seen her in years but I wanted her to know I had finally managed to make it back to the stage. I didn't know if she had gotten the message or was able to make it until I received a note from here following one of our performances. She spotted me in the lobby, still wearing my costume and makeup, and came up and gave me a big hug. I think the tears were streaming down both of our faces. Unforgettable, to be sure. 
     She retired from teaching at the end of last school year. From the send off she received from past students and colleagues, it's clear her love, concern, and dedication touched countless others through her years of teaching. 

Joette Gates (Sommers)

Joette and me

     I met Joette Gates sometime before my Senior year in high school. Some how or another I found myself in her classroom with a friend of mine, as she was prepping her room for the upcoming school year. She mentioned she was the supervisor for the school newspaper and that caught my attention. I recall writing a short piece for her review and her allowing me to sign up for the newspaper staff when classes began. Newspaper met everyday like a a regular class and gave students the opportunity to write, edit and layout the newspaper on a monthly basis. As someone who eventually worked in TV news, I can attest we had the same vigorous conversations about high school news stories as we did about local news at WHIO-TV. 
     I do remember one caveat Mrs. Gates insisted on was that I also had to take a journalism class she taught during first period. I remember going to the counseling office on the first day of school and changing my schedule for the year. It also turned out I had a study hall that semester and I managed to talk her into letting me be her teacher's aid that period. Poor Joette had me in her class three times a day, including first thing in the morning. Teachers must have more patience than anyone in any profession anywhere at anytime.
     Joette taught me how to write well and with confidence. It's something that I had never really considered before that year in school because I didn't like to read. It bored me to no end but I loved to write. I remember writing a few articles about the soccer team but the one I remember the most was one I wrote about the school's new library security system. I wrote I didn't think it was very good because I figured out how to bypass it. Mrs. Beecher, the school librarian, was none to happy about my reporting. It was then I began developing a thicker skin. 

     Beyond her teaching me to be a better writer, her greatest influence came from her love and care during that school year. My younger sister was having some problems and it was causing my family great stress. I remember staying after school frequently because I didn't want to go home. My parents and sister fought all the time and I was stuck in the middle. It was hard and Joette sensed something was wrong. She was there to listen and offer both guidance and solace, which I appreciated more than I could express.
     After graduating I began working in radio and TV news, she had me come back to speak to a few of her classes and it always made me feel special. But in reality it was because of her I found my voice and set me on the course I still follow today. 
     Years after she had retired and moved out of the are we reconnected on Facebook and I enjoy our occasional conversations and emails. A few years ago I had the great honor of being her guest at her mountain home and my son and I had a blast. I'm fortunate to have such a supportive and thoughtful friend and mentor. 

Vern Burk
     When I was young and playing youth soccer in Beavercreek, Ohio I remember noticing this tall, bearded gentleman, sauntering about the fields where we played our games. He wore glasses, had this sly smile, and sideburns. I assumed he was a parent or a coach but he was never involved directly with any of my teams so I didn't know for sure who he was.  

From the RAF Lakenheath Base Paper, 1973

     My Sophomore years in high school I made the Reserve B men's soccer team and one of my teammates was Dave Burk--it turned out his dad was the man I recalled seeing at the soccer fields years before. Though I finally made the connection of who he was, I didn't get to know Vern until the following year after being cut from the men's team. On the encouragement of some of my friends, I volunteered to become the equipment manager of the women's varsity team. Vern was one of the assistant coaches. Shortly after the season began, Vern saw I had some soccer skill and had me begin working with the goalkeepers. It meant a lot to me to be part of a team. 
     Vern was and remains one of the most interesting people I've ever known. Among other things, besides having a great soccer mind, he was also a chess master. He won the Dayton Chess Club Championship in 1969, 1977, 1981, 1982, and 1991. He also served as the club's president three times throughout his long involvement. 
     He was a scholar and historian who worked at Wright Patterson Air Force Base and wrote papers on whatever subject his work steered him to. He and his family had previously lived in England and being a soccer fan I enjoyed listening to him talk about English Football and how we could improve our play. 

My mom, dad, me, and Vern; BHS graduation 1988

     Vern was very involved with Beavercreek soccer and all levels which is one of the reasons we became friends. While managing the women's team I was basically his shadow; before the game, during the game and then usually at Noble Roman's Pizza after the game. I became involved with the Beavercreek Celtic's and went to board meetings while I was still a student and Vern, who at the time I believe was serving as the board president, welcomed my thoughts and comments on the goings on. Afterwards we would hang around Marion's Pizza (where the Celtic meetings were held) and talk about history and other subjects over a pizza. When he could he put me on his team as a guest player and I got to travel and play in many out of state tournaments. In fact, it was because of him I was recruited to play in college. I ended up rooming with his middle son David, while at college. 
     I learned a lot from Vern about soccer and a great many other things and always enjoyed seeing him. In some ways I connected with him more than I connected with my own father. I'm not sure why but we just seem to hit it off. He had a lot of interests and a very dry and ironic sense of humor. I remember one night after a soccer meeting he randomly asked if I wanted to go see a movie; we saw the family friendly Full Metal Jacket. Sometimes when our soccer team was traveling, back at the hotel after a long day of games, while my teammates were swimming or goofing off, Vern and I were sitting quietly somewhere as he taught me the game of chess. I never studied the game to become a high quality player myself but I've kept a board ever since. 
     One of the saddest days of my life was when he past away from diabetes on December 20, 1991. At his viewing, his wonderful wife Judith told me Vern always enjoyed my company. That meant a great deal to me that day and twenty-three years later it still means at lot. Over the years I've seen his family around town and we stay connected through Facebook. He was a great man who influenced many people throughout his life and I'm fortunate to say I was one of them.

Mike Peters

Mike's alter-ego. 

     Many people have heard of Mike Peters. He is a Pulitzer Prize winning editorial cartoonist and creator of the comic strip Mother Goose and Grimm. While working locally at the Dayton Daily News his backyard happened to butt up against my backyard in Beavercreek, Ohio and I spent a lot of time at their house, annoying his daughters and jumping on their trampoline. 
     My friends and I also did a fair share of TP'ing their house and if I recall correctly, Mike and his daughters returned the favor in kind, more than once.

Getting a Grimm T-shirt for my 17th birthday

     His drawing table was positioned in front of the sliding glass doors on their back patio and I could see when he was sitting there working on his art. On occasion I would go over and watch as he would create his magic and he was always welcoming and friendly. I recall during one visit, around the time I was 13 or 14 years-old, he commented he thought I would do well working in broadcasting when I go older. He went on to say he thought I had a good personality and would probably be a natural communicator.
     At that young age nothing of the sort had ever dawned on me and his words were intriguing. I certainly was fascinated by radio but I didn't understand what it took to be on the radio. Not long after I began saving my money and bought some DJ equipment from Radio Shack and began broadcasting from my bedroom. Eventually I also started volunteering at the Miami Valley Cable Council and a career in broadcasting became a real possibility for my future. 
     I was never a scholarly student and always felt if I would be a success in life I would have to achieve it using my own talents and communicative skills. Mike's kind words that day helped frame this idea in the mind of a wandering and carefree child. And as it turns out, he was right. The business surely has its up and downs but I've always felt most comfortable working in that kind of creative environment. 

The crux of my adoption story

     Up to this point in my adoption journey much of what I've revealed has centered around the discovery and reconnection with my biological roots, in particular, my birth mother Rosemary's family. Along the way I've also included essays about my adopted parents and family, as to leave no doubt of my absolute love and appreciation for all of them. Personally, it's been a life changing and worthwhile endeavor and I hope people are getting something out of it. However, I'm feeling the crux of my story may very well lie beyond what I've written thus far. I've begun to realize my story transcends the human interest and fascination of familial reunion and is reaching deeply into the realm of self-discovery, awareness, honesty, and accountability.

     Before I began this journey my family medical history was unknown. Any issues I have or may have had in my life, including the physical, emotional, or mental, belong to me and me alone. In many families certain medical conditions experienced by previous generations are well-known and documented and watched for as family members grow and age. In the case of most adopted children any health traits or problems are a complete mystery. Other than being told I had a paternal grandfather who was an alcoholic, no further pertinent information was provided by the adoption agency. And that tidbit of information about my grandfather is somewhat in dispute, which I will discuss later.

     Let me establish that many of the conclusions I've drawn about my biological mother Rosemary and her health have been based on facts and anecdotes shared by her loved ones. Others are logical assumptions, supported by certain observations I've made throughout the process. I've been blessed to receive stories, personal tokens, photos, videos, and a number of her written works, all of which has provided greater insight into who my mother was as a person. Through this, I've gained a clearer perspective of my own being, as well. In her, I see myself. We share many wonderful traits and talents but also some of the same personal struggles and challenges.

     Throughout my life doctors have hinted some of my weight challenges were probably partially caused by genetics. Looking at early family movies and class pictures of my mother it seems her weight gain began after she became an adult. And more directly, after she gave me up for adoption. This is an import point to consider. As a child, I was husky (as my mom called it) and got my share of teasing because of it. However, I refuse to accept the notion I was a “roller wheel” as some bullies alleged. The most I weighed in high school was a 165 lbs. and I played soccer nearly everyday. I gained the majority of my weight during my first marriage. It was ugly, painful and I fed my emotions with food. From what I know about Rosie, I think following my birth and subsequent adoption she did the same thing. Even her own brother, my Uncle Jerry, intimated this when we first met. Perhaps how we deal with emotions or stress is also genetic. 

     Even after Rosemary married and began her life as a wife and step-mom, she struggled with her weight. I had the great pleasure of having dinner with one of her step-sons this past week and he remembers a time when she dropped 150 lbs. only to gain it back. I've been down that road before. In fact, I'm still on that road, having gained back the weight I lost after my gastric bypass surgery. It's embarrassing to admit but I have to be honest in what I write. And to myself. I can't eat the portions I used to before my surgery but I my wife tells me I'm a grazer. My love hate relationship with Miller Lite doesn't help, either. I get bored easily and once I begin drinking it becomes a bit of an obsessive compulsive ritual until it's gone. Rosie never drank, thankfully. Which brings me back to whether my paternal grandfather was an alcoholic or not.

     In conversations with by birth father, Darrel, he assures me his father was not an alcoholic. I don't know why Rosie told her social worker he was but its listed on the questionnaire I received from the adoption agency. For years my mom has always been concerned about me drinking because of this fact. Perhaps he wasn't an alcoholic but I do know he died at the age of 45. I turned 46 a month ago. Darrel has also had heart problems for a several years and was actually hospitalized a few weeks ago with an arterial blockage. He's home now and recovering. Given heart disease can fun in some families it scared the hell out of me.

     So here's what I know: my mother was very obese and died at the age of 58; my father has had heart problems for a number of years; my paternal grandfather who died at 45 may or not have had a drinking problem; I'm 46, obese, and drink too much too often. The truth is often painful and scary and I assure you I'm feeling both of those emotions at this very moment. 

     I think this is the real reason I found my biological roots and why my mom was adamant about me doing so. Who's needs an hug?