2003-08-21 - 12:51 p.m.

Do you adopt a life?

I am pretty secure. But there is something that has been with me that represents sometimes what I consider to be a �crack� at the foundation.

I am adopted.

It�s not something that I am too self conscious about it. Don�t misunderstand me, but it�s just something that I think about.

Also, I have two parents and they are my parents and nothing would ever change that. I would never want that to change. I some time just think about the oddness of the situation.

There was this book that I read back in High School called Einstein�s dreams, which was a book about the dreams Einstein was having when he was coming up with the theory of relativity.

I don�t know if you know this, but studies have been done about dream intensity, and the more someone is studying and allowing their mind to work, the more vivid and intense their dreams.

I have dreams about my adoption my whole life.

I dream that one day I go down to the hospital to open the records. I learn that my parents were foolish teenagers and that male pattern balding runs in my family. I thumb through the records and discover small interesting things about my genetic soup and my means of dying. My bio parents have sealed their real identities, and I am left with a folder of who made me, like a car�s owners manual.

I go to the hospital. This section looks like the sperm backs that you always see on TV, that I am unsure really exist. The take me in and a doctor comes in to read the contents of the catalogue to me. For some reason the doctor who does this is always a female. I think because a male doctor would be like, you mom�s a crack whore and your dad shot her. Have a nice day.

The female doctor opens the folder and pulls out some X-rays. She looks at them. �They named you Jonathan. Your father was name was Juan and he worked in a manufacturing plant in New Bedford. Your mother seems was an Irish immigrant, and worked at a local bar in Boston for the summer, and then returned to Ireland. You were their only child. We have the last know addresses of them here. Would you like to have it?

I go to the hospital. There are test tubes and operating labs all around. It�s like a secrete laboratory. The nurse brings me to a waiting room and asks me to take my shirt off. I ask why, and she simply says that people can�t wear shirts in these rooms.

The doctor comes in and tells me that my parents are both dead. My father died of cancer at a very early age. My mother had what they suspect was HIV. They ask to take my blood to test me. I comply. A cold metal robot machine rumbles over to me and plunges its needle into my thigh. It announces that I am �infected� and they grab me and take me off to be incinerated.

I have the address of my father and I go to his house in Quincy. It�s not a nice place in an ethnic part of town. I walk up to the door and knock. A younger man answers the door. He is a skateboarder kid and is wearing his hat to the side. There is a skull on it.

�What do you want?�

�I was hoping I could see Mr. Lopez?�

�You one of them Jewish Witnesses�

�No.�

�Hold on, Dad!�

The dream ends as this punk kid jumps on his board and skates into the house. I am scared that he is probably my half brother, but I stop thinking about it as I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

The doctor is sitting there. I feel like I am on the Jenny Jones show as she tears open the envelope she is holding containing two names. Gump, you mother is Leslie Irene and your Father is Uncle Bob. I am so sorry�I will leave you alone now.

I ring the door bell and this man comes to the door. He is in his mid 40�s and has a five o�clock shadow. He looks angry.

�Who are you?�

�I was hoping we could talk�

�I don�t like talking�

�I think I am your son.�

�I don�t have a son.�

�No, I am the one that you put up for adoption. I don�t think you understood.�

�No I remember that. I gave you up. I don�t have a son. Don�t come here again.�

The door slams and I am left with a giant hole where before existed a question. I run my hand along the door hoping someone will comeback. The paint chips flake to the ground.

My mother took the news well and invited me around to the other side of the porch. She apologizes for the mess and puts on some tea. How could I refuse? She was a stocky lady, while pale skin and grayish blue eyes. She seemed so excited by the news when I blurted it out to her. We had a very awkward hug.

�You know, I was young and foolish. I am so sorry.�

�Don�t be sorry. It probably turned out for the best.�

�I can�t tell you how happy I am that you turned out okay. What did they end up calling you? I didn�t even get your name!�

�Gump�

�Gump, huh? I always though of you as an Albert.�

The tea whistle blows and the air is warm and comforting. The sky is very blue and I can smell the thick pollen in the air. I figure we have about two more weeks before the area is infested by mosquitoes. It�s been such a crazy day, that this is the most relaxed I have been.

I look over at my biological mother. She is pouring the tea and has this look about her like she has found something that she had been missing for a very long time.

�Your father is John Burkett,� the doctor says

�The baseball player?�

�Yes�

�You know, I kinda always knew he was my dad�

I go to Fenway and call the ownership to get in contact with John. He is more than willing to meet me. Security lets me in and I meet him and he shakes my hand. He instantly apologizes about the whole thing, saying he was too young. I tell him that it worked out pretty good. He smiles and asks if I want a hot dog. I tell him only with a beer. Two minutes later he returns and we eat and have a drink together.

I ask him about baseball, and about pitching. He talks my ear off. After about thirty minutes he politely asks about money. He wonders if I came here to get some. I tell him that that�s not what I am after; I was just looking to fill in some blanks. He seems really happy by this and gives me a ticket to the game. He tells me that he will dedicate this start to me. By the third inning her has given up six runs and walks off the mound with his head down. I boo him.

The doctor tells me that my father did not want his information opened, and my mother is dead. She does tell me though that mental illness runs in my family on both sides. I feel nauseated and decided to go home.

I learn that my mother lives in Somerville. I go to her place and I see two kids shooting hoops in the yard. They are about half my age. The rose bush in her front yard is in bloom. I see a man and a woman in the living room watching TV. The man is giving the woman a foot rub and she is laughing at something he is saying. The kids notice me and go inside. As I push open the small metal gate in the front of the house, my mother comes to the door. She looks so happy and bright.

�Can I help you?�

I paused and caught a look of the two kids looking out from the living room window.

�Does Sue Clark live here anymore?�

�No, I�m sorry, she doesn�t�

�Too bad, I am sorry to bother you.�

�That�s okay. Hey�you look familiar. Do I know you?�

�I don�t think so.�

It�s cold and snowing. But the snow isn�t wet. It�s just light and fluffy. Perfect for sledding. I am bundled from head to toe. I walk up the steps and ring the doorbell. A see a woman come to the window and peek around the glass to see who it is. She slowly opens the door as the snow begins to pile up on my hat.

�Hello. Can I help you?�

�I am not sure how to say this, so I am just going to say it. I think I am your son that you gave up for adoption in 1979. I am not here for anything other than to meet you.�

�Oh my. Come in.� she steps away and lets me enter the doorway. So trusting. I could have been anyone I suppose, but I guess the little information I gave sealed it. I look over at her. She is a shorter woman with Brown eyes and reddish hair. He eyes are welled up with tears ready to burst.

�Hi, my name is Gump.�

�Are you really who you said you were.�

I remove my jacket and hat. My hair sticks up on one side and my face is flushed from embarrassment and the cold air. �I am.�

�How? Why? Why now?�

�It was hard.� We both stand there in a sort of shock. I am foolishly disrobing, even though she may ask me to leave at any moment. But the way we are looking at each other it�s like we want our brains to connect to answer our questions. We have questions, and the conversation can not wait any longer. There is urgency in our words.

�My parents said that no one would ever love you like a real child.�

�They were wrong. You made the right decision.� Our hearts pace quicken like we are reading the last few pages of a mystery novel.

�I never hated you. I wanted to keep you.�

�I never hated you. I am glad you didn�t.� I look around at this small cozy house. There a little Christmas knick knacks up all over. There is a small elf with a sign that reads, �Elves on Strike.�

�I never had any other children.�

�You should have. I am fine. I grew up great.�

�You are tall like your father.�

�What happened? Why did you�give me up?�

�My parents decided it would be best. I was only 17. I cried for the rest of my life.�

I touched her face, and strangely something felt different, �Mom? I grew up fine. You needed to let me go.� She closed into my body and wrapped her arms around me, and I held her as we both cried. I spent the rest of the night disclosing my life. The fire glowed and crackled as the snow came down, and I felt like I had a second home for a moment. I felt that I was in a different life that I never got to live.

______________________________________________________

I went to the hospital once, while I was in one of my worst spots in high school. I didn�t know what I was doing. I didn�t take my birth certificate or any of my other documentation. I just felt like I should go there. I never made it out of the parking lot. I just looked at the building, not really knowing where to go or what I was even doing there. Hell, I didn�t even really know if it was the right building.

But, like I said, that was a low point for me, and I felt like maybe what ever that envelope contained would be different. A change of some sort towards something that was better than what I was living. My friends were at a party without me, and my parents had gone away for awhile. I took my motorcycle out for the ride. On that ride, my brain went through the events, the possibilities, the endless what if�s? I decided that I didn�t need to go down this road. I glamorize life too much. I went home and went to sleep.

Three weeks later I met Shelly for the first time.

before - After

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