...the War To End All Wars To End All Wars began when a few people of the German persuasion entered Poland on September 1, 1939, without so much as a "by your leave".
That is your bit of history trivia for the day.
Eighty years ago tomorrow -- by which I mean September 2, 1939 -- was a date I thought for many years was an important one in my family's history, until I discovered that it wasn't.
Let me explain.
(Spoiler: This is going to be another post about my parents, all three of them.)
I thought September 2, 1939, was the day my parents got married. The truth is a bit more complicated.
As far as I know, my biological parents never married. They met in New York City where both of them had moved to find work, my mother from Pennsylvania and my father from Rhode Island. At some point after they met, I was conceived. At some point after I was conceived -- I'm not sure just when -- he returned to Rhode Island and she went there too. Whether they went together or she followed him there, I have no idea (I do not mean to sound like Yoda from Star Wars, speaking backwards and all, but it simply cannot be helped). I was born on March 18, 1941, but my biological father, hereafter known as "the sperm donor", was not present. I discovered by doing research many years later that on March 11, 1941, one week before my arrival, the sperm donor joined the United States Army and left Rhode Island and my mother's life forever. She stayed in the same city for several years, the city where his family lived, but I have no idea if there was any contact between them. Although she had earned a college degree that qualified her to teach in elementary school, my first recollection of where she worked was at a Coats & Clark Thread factory.
I do remember being about 3 and hearing, one time and one time only, one of my nursery school teachers call my mother “Mrs. M———-“; I believe my mother had assumed this title without benefit of clergy in an attempt at respectability in a day when the term “single mother” had not yet been coined and being one was held in low regard.
The man who raised me was living more than a thousand miles away in Iowa with a wife of his own. In December 1942 he joined the United States Navy and served until World War II ended in 1945. At some point during his term of service, his wife in Iowa divorced him. After sailing through the Panama Canal a couple of times on his way to places like Oregon and southern California and Florida and the icy waters off the coast of Greenland, his last duty assignment in the Navy happened to be Quonset Point, Rhode Island. At some point around 1945 a mutual friend introduced him to my mother and the rest is history. I must have been about 4 when they met but I have no memory of him then except for seeing him a few times wearing a white sailor suit.
As an adult I discovered through research that they were married on September 2, 1946, in Seekonk, Massachusetts. The only birth certificate I have ever had was issued about this time also, just before I began public school, when one would be needed. It shows Clifford Ray Brague as my father, which is impossible based on what I have shared with you in this post. I don’t think he adopted me officially, but I became Robert Brague that day.
After completing my first year of school, we moved from Rhode Island to Texas. As far as I or anyone else knew, they had been married since 1939. September 1940 would not have worked for public consumption because I was born, remember, in March 1941.
He told me one time “I gave you a name”.
I know they meant well and did everything for what they considered good reasons, but a line of Sir Walter Scott’s comes to mind:
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.”
All the principals have been gone for a long time now. My mother died in 1957, my birth-certificate dad died in 1967. I discovered through further research that my biological dad/sperm donor died in 1977 in New Jersey. He married and had a family after the war. I have chosen not to contact them.
This is a movie with out an end. Only part of the story is played.However, your search has turned up a lot of info.
ReplyDeleteFamilies are complicated animals. I was present at my parent's wedding, and I am told that I had hiccups for days (my mother was still breast feeding me and had a drink or two that day).
ReplyDeleteIt makes me sad that you now have no family. I know you have your own ever expanding family and love them deeply. You missed knowing your siblings and having your mother grow older as you progressed through the world. I am happy about your own family however. They bring you great joy.
ReplyDeleteYes, "Oh what a tangled web...". You have done some excellent investigative work to discover all this. I'm sure much of it must be painful for you. I sometimes think that people don't stop and realize that every child will someday be an adult and they deserve answers and explanations about their history. Maybe not when very young but as they grow old enough to understand. My two sons' biological father left when they were very young and I was divorced. I later remarried and we went to court and had my son's last name legally changed. The boys had no contact with their biological father and wanted to have their names changed. Some of their past is uncomfortable for me to discuss but I have never lied to them and they know they can ask me anything. I am sorry you have had to live with what must be many questions.
ReplyDeleteI wonder how many people have similarly tangled backgrounds. I wonder how many know they have. I always thought that the easy availability of DNA tests could throw up some rather 'interesting' situations.
ReplyDeleteWow how facsinating, and heart-tugging as well, for I imagine your mum had some dark days and nights when she was abandoned by the sprm doner, it was a bright idea to name herself 'Mrs' I understand why it was necessary. Your stepfather, or actual father so far as being one goes gave you your name, yes, was he a kind man? Pardon my curiosity, and I do hope the answer is yes. You turned out very well, so they did a fine job regardless. x
ReplyDeleteEverybody, please forgive the 10-day delay in answering your comments. It is not a subject I bring to the light of day often.
ReplyDeleteRed, your movie analogy is a good one. I'm sure there is much of which I am unaware. I'm too close to the story to tell it in an unbiased way.
Elephant's Child, your parents' wedding day sounds very interesting! Mrs. RWP has always said that when you get the hiccups someone is talking about you, and if you can name who it is the hiccups will stop.
Emma, thank you for the kindness in your comment. I'm sure I have or had half-siblings in New Jersey, but my attitude has always been that since their father didn't want to know me, I don't want to know them. I suppose I have robbed myself in the process.
Bonnie, I agree with you, every adult deserves answers. In my case they were not forthcoming because the participants all died and I had to ferret out what I could on my own.
Graham, DNA is a two-edged sword. It reveals truth and raises many more questions.
Starshine Twinkletoes, besides having my favo(u)rite blogger name, you raise an interesting question. Was he kind? From my perspective, no, he was not. I struggled with that point of view for many years and have come to terms with it after a fashion. He was kind at times and at other times he was a tyrant. He could be verbally abusive for hours on end. My mother taught me an old Jewish proverb, a soft answer turns away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger. Nothing seemed to turn away his wrath until it ran its course. I am being too harsh. I think he was a good man who was doing the best he could. I would like to have known more about his own upbringing. I do appreciate what he did for me.
He did his best - that's all we can hope for I guess, and one way or another he had a hand in forming the fine husband, dad, grandfather (and beyond) that you have become.
DeleteSorry, my computer is broken so Starshine is locked in the cupboard and All Consuming back briefly x