BOOKS and My Father Richard~Adopting the Past (Part 2)

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adoptee, adoptive parents, Alice in Wonderland, Bedtime Stories, Books, Family history, memories, reading

My father at age five. Even then he was a bibliophile.

As one who was adopted at age five, I grew up with two family trees -1. the biological genealogy and 2. the relatives who comprised my adoptive family. Today I’m talking a look at family history from the adoptive side. This is the second installment of a tribute to my late adoptive dad. In my new home, my brother (adopted with me) and I were treated like royalty. Our father Richard read to us every night. I recall listening to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. No one had read to me before. I’d never seen a book. What luxury it was to fall asleep to my dad’s deep, rich baritone. I would have been happy if the book had gone on forever.

All his life my father read eclectically, enormously, exuberantly. An English teacher for many years, a professor of guidance and counseling for most of his career, he collected mysteries, history, poetry, biography, and the classics. My brother and I were encouraged to indulge our love of books. Even though we didn’t have a lot of money, we somehow built up our own book

collections.

My mom would outlive my dad by several years, and she diligently sent me not only

My dad pursued photography as well as collecting books.

his World War Two letters (collected in a volume titled FromCalcuttaWithLove), she also packed up his books and sent them from Virginia to my home in New Mexico.
I’ll never forget that last cardboard box of literary treasures. Inside were leather-bound copies of The Pickwick Papers, The Brothers Karamazov, Maupassant Short Stories, Twain Short Stories, Tom Sawyer Abroad, A Tale of Two Cities, The Trial and The Works of Poe.

Mark Twain was always one of Richard’s favorite authors. Looking through the Twain volume, I saw on the inside cover, his handwritten “7/28/32,” the date he’d acquired the book. It’s no accident that when I was earning my Masters degree in American Literature, I chose to write my thesis on Twain. Specifically, I wrote on Determinism in Puddn’head Wilson.

Turning to an underscored section in Tom Sawyer Abroad, I read the following quote by Tom:

“As near as I can make out, geniuses think they know it all, and so they won’t take people’s advice, but always go their own way, which makes everybody forsake them and despise them, and that is perfectly natural. If they was humbler, and listened and tried to learn, it would be better for them.”

Tom’s words so perfectly reflected Richard’s homespun, down-to-earth attitude toward life that I laughed through my tears. A bittersweet reminder of the wonderful man he was.
***********

Join Elaine for Monday Blog Posts on adoption and life. Please check out her archived

The Goodbye Baby gives an insider view of growing up adopted.

posts and feel free to add your comments. She is currently seeking first-hand accounts by other adoptees. Subject to review, she will publish your submission as a guest post. For more information, send an e-mail query to deardiaryreadings@me.com

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BOOKS and My Father Richard ~Adopting the Past

Tags

Adaptation, adoptee, adoption, adoptive parents, Bedtime Comfort, Books, Enrichment, Family history, memories, reading

 I grew up with two family trees -1. biological 2. adoptive.

My father at age five. Even then he was a bibliophile.

Years after being adopted, I met my birthparents, and that was helpful if not completely rewarding. I was fortunate to end up with my adoptive parents (family tree #2), and in that vein I’m talking a look at family history from the adoptive side.

My father died on a May morning in Virginia, the state where I grew up and he had lived for 40 years. Richard Leonard Beard was my hero, my role model and — after I moved from Virginia to New Mexico in the 1960s — my favorite pen pal. Before the cruel dementia that ravaged his mind and memory, he was a brilliant and much-loved college professor first at the University of North Carolina (UNC) and then at the University of Virginia (UVa). Of the many gifts my father imparted to me, I cherish most his love of books.

Since that sad, raw Tuesday when Richard gave up his battle for life, I’ve savored memories of this wonderful man. None have been more heartwarming than those provided as I go through his books, which my mother sent me, carton by carton, over a period of three months.

My father was a lover of the written word, a true bibliophile. The oldest of four

Fifties Family -Growing up in university towns.

children growing out in rural northern Ohio, he was the only one who went to college. The family moved from a farm in Hancock County to Findlay, Ohio, and there for the first time he had access of a library. He started reading voraciously and never stopped. In high school, young Richard was president of 38 clubs, including the book club, the drama team, and the debating club. Ultimately, my father became professor of guidance and counseling, before which he was a high school English teacher. His love of books was conveyed to a multitude of fortunate students, and later, to me.

Times were tough for my biological mother, and-never mind books- she had enough trouble housing and feeding me and my brother. In fact, she couldn’t, and that’s when my new Mom and Dad came into the picture. I can’t recall seeing a book before my “rescue” from grim foster homes and what I considered an orphan’s life.

In the wonderful new home where my brother and I were treated like royalty rather than unwanted burdens, I recall our father reading to us every night. There must have been other bedtime stories, but my most vivid memory is of Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. Night after night, I would fall asleep to my father’s rich baritones, with visions of the White Rabbit, the Queen of Hearts, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, the Cheshire Cat, the Mad Hatter, the Jabberwock. He instilled in me a passion for reading and transformed what had been a bleak, booklets childhood. I grew up rich in words, finding through books fantasy, adventure, edification and a world apart that seemed to make up for the first five years of my life.

During the mid-1950s, In Chapel Hill, North Carolina, Richard established an

Ahead of his time, Dr. Beard spearheaded a book TV program in the 50s.

educational TV program in conjunction with the University of North Carolina, based on books and reading. He was the host and I was a frequent guest. In the meantime, his personal book collection was growing. In thirty years, it would reach over 5,000 volumes. (To be Continued)

Next Week: “Books and My Father Richard,” Part II. Join Elaine on Mondays for reflections on adoption, adapting, and life.

Adopting Hope in the Face of Mortality

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appreciation, Attitude, Books, Cats, Friendship, Guest Posting, Hope, Mortality, Parkinson's Disease, Spontaneity, writing

Note from Elaine: Today’s guest blogger, Peggy van Hulsteyn is one of my most successful writer friends.  For the last 15 years, she has been battling  Parkinson’s Disease, and yet
she continues to write charming books and contribute inspiring pieces to the Michael J. Fox Foundation website. I hope you, Dear Reader, will find her essay as uplifting as I do.

WHEN YOUR MORTALITY CALLS, DON’T HANG  UP

-Peggy van Hulsteyn

The first time my Mortality called, I refused to answer. When the old Crone rang me up again, I told her to buzz off; she had the wrong number.

The third time she called she did away with the niceties.  Her message was brutally clear: “You have Parkinson’s disease.”

Who was this obnoxious Nosey Parker? Had she just escaped from the home for the bewildered? Could it be Yvonne, my former agent, taunting me while she imbibed the tawny Port wine favored by the Royal Braganza family of Portugal?

When I thought about it in retrospect, the mix-up was obvious. When you have a name like Peggy van Hulsteyn, people are always confusing you with the multitude of other females of the same name.

I responded: “There’s been a mistake. I know nothing about a disease called Parkinson’s. Leave me alone or I’ll report you to the local authorities!” (I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded menacing.)

So, did she politely beg off? Are you kidding? Instead, she put me on speed dial.
But I couldn’t ignore the scary seeds she had planted in my mind. Surreptitiously,  I visited three neurologists, assuming that they would tell me to ignore this hoax.

The most disconcerting thing is that the old biddy turned out to be right. I did indeed have PD! Was she one of Santa Fe’s many clairvoyants? Is it possible I had misjudged this situation?

After months of her nagging, I had an epiphany.  Ms Mortality was not the enemy, but actually a friend! Her diagnosis of Parkinson’s was a wake-up call telling me it was later than I thought. She spoke the Truth and was an unexpected cheer leader, not a naysayer. Her mantra of  “Don’t postpone joy” resonated down to my core.

I was the worst type of convert once I joined  her “Time is Short” band wagon. I am continually challenging my fellow baby boomers to plunge head first into the carpe diem pool.

I am happy to report that I am taking my own advice. I had always wanted to
have a Nancy Drew party, but felt I was too old. When I got PD, I thought “Who cares?”  So last week my favorite chums donned their best frocks and we all played girl detective while enjoying a delicious ‘50s style dinner from The Nancy Drew Cookbook. It was my best party ever.
More from the “Time is Short” list:

Don’t leap into the future; treat the present as a present.

Don’t wait for Christmas to give presents.
I bestow gifts all year round, but during the holidays I am pro-active and
work for the cure. There are many excellent PD research groups.  I have an affinity for the Michael J Fox Foundation, as Michael is short and funny, and so am I.
Be discreet about accepting invitations.  Use the word NO frequently.  Spend your time doing what you love.
I savor writing, quality time with my witty husband, having quiet lunches with dear friends. Easy traveling. Books.
Remember that little things mean a lot.
A couple of decades ago, my husband and I rescued two tiny kittens who had been dumped by the side of the road the day after Xmas.  I hadn’t planned to keep them.  But I did, and wrote three of my favorite books about them! Never has there been so much love and devotion in such small packages; for 18 years they were devoted friends who purred us through the ups and downs.
Maintain  your creativity.
On those days when it is hard to get out of bed, DON’T!!  Instead, picture  yourself as Colette who did most of her writing in bed. Whether you’re penning Gigi or writing Xmas cards, turn the experience on its head. Instead of feeling sorry for yourself,  think of your day in bed as a step toward more originality.
Carpe Diem – Seize the Day!
Don’t dwell on the past and how wonderful you were – you are still spectacular!  Don’t leap into the future; treat the present as a present. It’s a call to cultivate your garden, gather your roses and your friends, hug your cat, turn off the TV and turn on Vivaldi, write a poem, learn French, read Auntie Mame, and embrace its message to “live, live, live.”

BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR

Peggy van Hulsteyn, the author of ten books,  has written for  Yoga Journal (American and Chinese version), The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, USA Today and six international editions of Cosmopolitan. Her most recent book, THE KITTEN INVASION, is a romp that reviewers call “wonderfully witty  and original.”
.  For more information,www. pdhatlady.com