The Words of Mother and Dad

Tags

adoptee, adoption, aging, Charlottesville, Dad, Diaries, Letters, Memory, Mortality, Sunset, Virginia, Wisdom, World War II

Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.
~Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal

Note to readers: Before Richard and Reva Beard adopted me, the bond between them intensified. With each year of courtship, marriage and — most of all — through their World War II separation, they imagined the family they would build. The war made that dream even stronger. Though separated by 6,000 miles and 18 months, they corresponded every day. The letters were relegated to a file case in my parents retirement home. After Dad passed away, I asked my brother to send me the entire collection. Daddy had meant to write a book about his India experiences, but life got in the way. I inherited the thousands of handwritten epistles, quit my day job to read every one, and turned the best of them them into a book: From Calcutta with Love- The World War II Letters of Richard and Reva Beard. (Texas Tech University Press, 2002) The original missives were archived at the Wright Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio. In 2002, the Texas publisher gave me back the rights. Last year Pajarito Press in Los Alamos, New Mexico acquired them. I’m happy to announce that, eighty years after they were first written by mom and dad, the letters are again being presented to the world.

Richard and Reva, I’d like to believe, would be proud to share their words with the world.

If I could speak to Richard today,  I’d remind him of a certain conversation. When going through some of my old diaries, I found this entry:

 My father and I were walking around the gentle hills of Charlottesville, Virginia. I’d left Virginia for New Mexico, embarking on my own life, but I visited at least once or twice a year. He and my mother had moved to a senior community named “Stonehenge.” I found the title amusing, thinking it conjured up the wisdom of the ages. On this particular evening, I was out walking with the wisest man I knew.
    The sun was setting and mist arose from the earth. Instead of a blazing sunset like those I experienced in New Mexico, this “sky-scape” was layered in subtle pastels…pink, peach and gray.
    Though I don’t recall my exact words, I told my father that when I was 70, his age at the time, I wouldn’t mind dying. I would, I told him, be ready to leave the earth.
    “You’ll feel differently when you’re there,” he retorted. “You’ll want more years ahead of you. Many more years.” I wanted to disagree, but I knew that argument was futile. Daddy was strong minded.
    Life happened. Marriage, children, divorce, grandchildren. Suddenly I was the agemy father was when he made his pronouncement.
    He’d left years earlier, but I felt that at some mysterious psychic level, he could hear and understand me. “You were right,” I longed to tell him.

Join Elaine Pinkerton on alternate Mondays for reflections on the life through adoption colored glasses, hiking, reading books, and writing. The Hand of Ganesh, slated for mid-April publication, can be pre-ordered from Pocol Press. (Pull down the Books tab at the top of this page). Stay tuned for a publication date for From Calcutta with Love. Thanks so much for reading; Your comments and questions are  invited.

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Adopting the Road to Gratitude

Tags

adoption, Attitude adjustment, Diaries, Gratitude, healing, Insight, Life as a Journey, Self-acceptance, Solutions

“Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.” – Melody Beattie

The highway from Albuquerque to Santa Fe, New Mexico

 

 

NOTE FROM ELAINE:  Summer has been hectic! House guests and helping a family member move to a job in another part of the country have been all-consuming. Therefore, I’m taking a brief blog-cation, republishing a favorite post from the past. This one contains a message that’s always relevant.

Several years have passed since the publication of The Goodbye Baby-Adoptee Diaries. My memoir comprises diary entries from years of dwelling on unanswered questions about my adoption. Most of those questions have been answered; now I am free to live my life. This journey—writing the book—has opened up a multitude of insights. Being in touch with the many wonderful adoption posts available on the Interenet has deepened my tolerance and understanding of not only my adoptee status but of the personal issues unique to fitting in with friends and families.
I feel that I’m traveling an entirely new highway, going from overcast skies to wide open sunny plains. The secrecy that surrounded my adoption caused weary decades of self-doubt and recrimination. The lack of a family tree that was authentically mine felt like a character flaw. Being an adoptee and the insecurities attached to that label defined, at least to myself, who I was.
Finally it seems possible to turn problems into opportunities. Of all the insights gained, perhaps the most stunning is this: growing up as an adoptee was the source of my problems but, paradoxically, the springboard of my success.
Through the Internet’s vast, far-reaching adoption community, I’ve met adoptees young and old, birthparents, adoptive parents, couples wanting to adopt, and people who care about adoption issues. Seeing the “land of adoption” with a wide-angle camera has opened up a new landscape.
Its been said that eighty percent of our information comes through our eyes. Since accepting  the past and steadfastly refusing to stay mired in it, I’ve gained a new appreciation for the beauty all around us. I’m fortunate to live in northern New Mexico’s high desert country, a land of astonishingly beautiful sunsets, the Rocky Mountain foothills, majestic forests and scenic plains.
Sometimes all that’s needed is to spend less time “over-thinking”—a notorious flaw of adult adoptees I’ve met—and more time simply really looking at the world.This is a step toward discovering the fullness of your life. BEING HERE is a gift.

******************************************************************

The Goodbye Baby-Adoptee Diaries is available from Amazon and on Kindle. Join me on alternate Mondays for reflections on the world as seen through “adoption-colored glasses.” Your comments are invited!

 

Excavating the Real You

Tags

adoption, Adoption recovery, Authenticity, Diaries, Gratitude, Liberation, memoir

Self-discovery demands some heavy lifting!

“I am the only person in the world I should like to know thoroughly.” -Oscar Wilde

Do you find it natural to be yourself or do you hide behind a facade?

What does it mean to be “authentic”?  As an adult adoptee, these are the questions I’ve grappled with for a lifetime. This quest for “authenticity” may not be true for every adoptee, but for me it is central.
That said, for the past five years, I’ve been on a quest for truth in defining myself. In my case, there was always the feeling that a biological child would have been the first preference of my adoptive parents. Even though assured that I was “the chosen one,” I grew up fearing I was a substitute for the child that might have been.
Ever since I could hold a pen, I’ve kept a daily diary A lifetime of chronicling every day generates many volumes. Four years ago, I decided to dig through my journals, particularly those from childhood into early adulthood. I pulled out the sections that pertained to growing up adopted and turned them into The Goodbye Baby-A Diary About Adoption (AuthorHouse, 2012). I’d written guidebooks (Santa Fe on Foot, The Santa Fe Trail by Bicycle), books about WWII (From Calcutta with Love, Beast of Bengal) but never a book about my own journey.
The diaries, 40 small volumes of “notes to myself,” revealed how being adopted

Decades of diaries became my memoir, The Goodbye Baby

shaped my decisions and my life’s trajectory. With a sense of Duty to Self and the hope of helping other adoptees, I opted to “go public” with the past in all its aspects. I was able, after publication of The Goodbye Baby, to move forward. It was liberating; it was necessary; it was illuminating.
Whether you were adopted or not, I’d like to offer guidelines for a personal “excavation.” To gain a better understanding of how YOUR past has shaped you, be willing to do the following:
1. Dig with your pen. Trace your life. Consider the choices you have made up until now. Is there a long-buried dream that calls to you? Perhaps you now have the wisdom to make alterations in your dream so that it can come true.
2. Write a brief personal history. This could even take shape as an outline, to be expanded into a future memoir. Recall the home of your childhood, fast-forward to your teenage years, more ahead to your first home. This need not be comprehensive. Instead, pick details that resonate in memory.
3. Adopt what Henri Nouwen calls “The Discipline of Gratitude” Use your daily life as a cause for celebration. In the extreme, this could mean taking the worst moments of your life and turning them into blessings.
4. Finally, reorder your priorities. This requires peace of mind and clarity. With modern life’s fragmentation and the intrusive nature of technology, however, this task is more important than ever. Use meditation, yoga, and days spent in silence —whatever it takes—to realize what’s most important.
 In the final analysis, by excavating to see who you really are, you’ll be able to identify what truly matters in your life. It may be the most important journey you’ll ever make.

What has helped you in finding your true self? Please share your comments!

 

Advice from a Tree

Tags

Adoptee Recovery, adoption, Bookmarks, Catana Tully, Dealing with Adoption, Diaries, healing, memoir, Resourcefulness, San Diego, Simplicity, Trees

“When the Student is ready, the Teacher will appear” -Unknown

This California tree overlooks sun-baked terrain.

Stand tall and Proud
Sink Your Roots into the Earth
Be Content with your Natural Beauty
Drink Plenty of Water
Enjoy the View!

-by Ilan Shamir

LIKE THE REHABILITATED ALCOHOLIC, the recovering adoptee must be ever vigilant for signs of backsliding. Nature, I have found, provides opportunities to gain clear vision, to strengthen, invigorate and purge. For example, a grove of Eucalyptus trees near my son’s home became a psychological springboard. For one week, I strolled daily under the majestic giants, stopping occasionally to write in my journal. It so happened that in the journal was a bookmark that spoke directly to my heart. Quoted above with the permission of http://www.YourTrueNature.com …is the lesson. Sounds simple, but it is actually profound. Yes, I’m following advice from a tree, delivered by a bookmark!

Join Elaine on Mondays for reflections on adoption and life.

TWO YEARS AGO, motivated by the desire to provide a “tell-all confessional,” I published The Goodbye Baby-A Diary about Adoption. Through the Internet’s large, rambling “adoption community,” I’ve met dozens of other adult adoptees, many of whom have written about the same hard lessons of growing up adopted. The response from my readers has been gratifying, but even more beneficial has been the freedom allotted by pouring the angst into a book and journeying forward with courage and positivity.

And yes, it is possible to leave the past behind, to move on. But let’s get real. No matter how much analysis, clarification, self-appreciation and education the adopted self receives, the demons return. Thanks to the support of my readers and the excellent adoption memoirs I’ve read, especially Catana Tully’s Split at the Root, I am able to recognize the demons and combat them.

Hope comes from many sources. Who knows where or when the next beacon will appear? While taking a

If we take the time to listen, Nature awaits us with answers.

beautiful walk on one of San Diego’s many urban trails. I realized that the answers to adoption issues, and maybe to anyone’s issues, need not be complicated.

So here, with the clearer vision of one who’s fought the demons for years and come to an armistice, is the message: Letting the past take up too much of today is not a good idea. Learning is a daily challenge, but one that makes life worthwhile. The rewards are never guaranteed, but when they do arrive, we are able to emulate the tall, proud, healthy tree. My gratitude is deep, I’m drinking lots of water, and I’m working on the rest.

Would I do it Again?

Tags

adopting a new attitude, adoption, adoptive parents, Authenticity, Dealing with Adoption, Diaries, healing, memoir, struggles

“What’s Done is Done and can’t be Undone.” -Stephen King

Nowhere is this more true than with publishing a memoir. Let’s be honest. Maybe it isn’t always a good idea to reveal the past. Perhaps it is worse if the “revelation” is in written form, an intimate expose, a confessional, a putting of oneself under the microscope? In other words, why would I present excerpts from my daily journals?

And yet, that’s just what I did when publishing an adoption-focused memoir, The Goodbye Baby-A Diary about Adoption. I culled four decades of diaries and transcribed the passages that showed me growing up as someone who felt herself to be a burden, a girl who had to hide behind the facade of being successful and “normal.”  Twenty-three years of grappling with the need to reveal what it felt like to grow up adopted. This act of daring or craziness (or both) accomplished my goal.

Diaries from the past directed me to a better future.

The reactions to the book have been surprisingly favorable. Other adult adoptees, birthparents, adoptive parents, and readers interested in adoption issues have welcomed the The Goodbye Baby. Coming out with my angst-filled past has opened doors. Now that I realize what happened to me isn’t that “special,” the book has led me to a wonderfully supportive online adoption community, many members of whom are shining lights, providing inspiration and serving as mentors.

As one of the bright stars in cyberspace, Deanna Shrodes, wrote in a blog post, “You wake up and you’re still adopted.” She is so right; the facts remain. However, having come face to face with those adoption demons empowered me to stare them down. Talking was not enough. Years of therapy, while enlightening, never enabled me to separate from what happened so long ago. Coming out with the story, which I never could have done without the therapy, cleared the path for divorcing the “poor adopted me” syndrome.

“Happy and grateful” is the image much of the world has of the adopted child, or rather of how the adopted child SHOULD feel. Most adult adoptees I’ve met are grateful for being removed from foster care, the orphanage, or whatever dysfunctional situation. But happy? Perhaps not totally. Something has been lost that can never be replaced.

In answer to the initial question, would I do it again, the answer is YES. It was much better to come out with a book containing my personal truth about adoption than to deny its effect. Now, as I burn the final pages of the diaries themselves, I realize that I no longer define myself as an “adult adoptee,” but as an adult. I’m free to live my life.

Join Elaine every Monday for insights into “Life after Adoption Recovery”

Goofy gets the Boot

Tags

Adoption recovery, Creativity, De-cluttering, Diaries, Liberation, memoir, Purge, Simplify, Streamlining, Stuff

“Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden and Other Writings

A year ago, I decided to get serious about re-purposing my old friend Mickey Mouse. I sold Mickey, Minnie and a host of other stuffed toys.  Because they were smaller, I kept Bugs Bunny and Goofy. Now even they have to go… I’m  once again de-cluttering.

Staging yet another garage sale is the only way I can escape the “too much stuff” syndrome. All of May, I’ve been walking around my house, collecting things with which I must part, labeling, pricing, and stacking said stuff in a spare room.
This personal de-acquisitioning campaign started with the publication of my adoption memoir The Goodbye Baby-A Diary about Adoption. It was so liberating to review four decades of past emotional “baggage” and then burning the diaries themselves, I realized that my too-much-stuff problem could be tackled. The late diaries went up in smoke, and that gave me courage. It was OK to get rid of something that had once been precious. In publishing my “diary book,” I’d saved the essence of those journals, which was all I needed: First the diaries, then the house and everything in it. There was no turning back.
My house is too big and yet not big enough. I have, from time to time, had grown children temporarily moving back home. Finally I gave up on having a guest room and declared that part of my home as the re-launching pad. Gone were my extra cabinets and shelves, dressers, bookshelves and desk drawers. I knuckled under and gradually removed my stuff from “their” space.
Do I get my precious storage space back? I wish! The adult child moves on but the stuff remains. This situation has forced me to take a serious look at all my now “extra” ousted-from-the-guest-room belongings. Turns out that a few friends, for various reasons, are  also being overwhelmed by possessions.  As a last resort, we’ve scheduled yet another garage sale.
This weekend my friends and I will be selling our excesses. Whatever doesn’t sell, we will give to charity. Our motto: This tyranny of things is exhausting and we’re not going to take it anymore.
Must sign off now, as the kitchen and dining room tables are loaded up with items that must be priced and relegated to the garage sale mountain.
*Use it or LOSE it.
*LESS is MORE.
*Empty is BEAUTIFUL

Join Elaine every Monday for reflections about life after Adoption Recovery.

Goodbye, Mickey Mouse

Tags

Creativity, Decluttering, Diaries, Liberation, memoir, Purge, Simplifying, Streamlining, Stuff

Things are in the saddle and ride mankind, said Ralph Waldo Emerson…

Stacked up for the Garage Sale of the Century

*Use it or LOSE it.
*LESS is MORE.
*Empty is BEAUTIFUL.

I have decided to get serious about re-purposing my old friend Mickey Mouse. I’m also getting rid of Minnie and a host of other stuffed toys. You guessed it, I’m de-cluttering.

A good friend was having trouble selling the family home. She’d already bought a small, perfect condo and needed to make the old, now-too-big house more attractive. She had multiple garage sales, sold and gave away more than half of what she owned. The family home started looking more beautiful. In a few weeks, furnished only sparsely, it sold.

After 38 years spent living in the same home, I started been buying books about simplifying. I’ve purchased containers for organizing and drawn up schedules for downsizing. I’m perpetually “gearing up” to purge, but instead of ridding myself of disorderly possessions, I spend too many hours keeping track of them.

Truth be told, all the organizational tools undermined me. Purchasing wondrous bins, cute cubes, file cases and photo boxes ended up creating – guess what! – more clutter. But this tyranny of things is exhausting and I’m not going to take it anymore.

Writing my adoption memoir The Goodbye Baby-A Diary about Adoption gave me the reality check I needed. It was so liberating to review four decades of past emotional “baggage” and then burning the diaries themselves, I realized that my too-much-stuff problem could also be tackled. The late diaries went up in smoke, and that gave me courage. It was OK to get rid of something that had once been precious. In publishing my “diary book,” I’d saved the essence of those journals, which was all I needed: First the diaries, then the house and everything in it. There was no turning back.

I’m not selling my house,  but I was so inspired by my friend’s example, I vowed to halt this unhealthy servitude to stuff. Point one: the home office. I’m sad to report that after eight hours of dredging, I have yet to reach bottom. Only myself to blame, however. A serious office supply addiction ended up burdening me with envelopes enough to run a third world country for a year, pens and pencils that filled five shoe boxes, reams of white paper, hundreds of partially-used spiral notebooks, and three-ringed binders enough for a every grade of a school in Nepal.

Nothing to do but soldier on! I now look at STUFF as an enemy that smothers me, crowds me, muffles my creativity and keeps me from writing. I’m getting used to the beauty of EMPTY. A drawer with nothing in it. A closet with just a few hangers.

Must sign off now, as the bed is loaded up with a mountain of junk that has to be labeled before removal to the garage sale department. Otherwise, no sleep tonight…

Postcards from the Ledge

Tags

Diaries, Hiking, Nature, Practicing Silence, Rousseau, Sun Mountain

Recently I climbed “Monte Sol,” also known as Sun Mountain. After reaching the 600-foot summit, I sat on a boulder, taking notes, dreaming a bit, meditating. The sun was blazing, but the winter air felt slightly chilly. Overhead, a few ravens flapped in vast, airy circles. As I thrilled to the beauty below me—my town laid out in panorama—it occurred to me that reading leads to writing, which leads back to reading.

Hiking to the Summit

Perhaps because my memoir The Goodbye Baby-A Diary about Adoption focusses so strongly on my own diary entries, I plan during 2013 to peruse diaries from the past. The list includes Samuel Pepys, Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde, and Anne Frank. I’ve started with18th century author Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who also loved to walk in nature. In a way, we are kindred spirits.
A slim volume, Meditations of a Solitary Walker, published by Penguin, had been sitting in my overstuffed bookshelves for decades. The book comprises highlights from Rousseau’s Reveries of the Solitary Walker. I had tucked it into my daypack to finish reading during my hike.
The cover, impressionist art, depicts a black-suited figure waving his hat to what looks like a tan field or perhaps a sea. The man’s back is turned away from the viewer. Each chapter is an account of one of Rousseau’s solitary ramblings. In today’s terms, we might describe them as “hikes.” The descriptions are beautiful, the reflections are somber, poetic, tormented, and intensely personal. There is angst expressed, but also lyrical descriptions and an occasional bit of wry humor.

Monte Sol in the afternoon

In Chapter One, “The First Walk,” Rousseau describes his literary musings as “taking barometer readings” of his soul. He states that in his “decrepitude,” he will re-visit the readings and “shall live with my earlier self as I might with a younger friend.” Rousseau admits worrying about the “grasping hands” of his “persecutors” and transmitting his diary reflections to future generations, but he goes on to say that he is finally indifferent “to the fate both of my true writings and of the proofs of my innocence.”
Sitting on my perch above the city, I muse about the fate of my journals. Was I right to put them on death row? When I completed writing The Goodbye Baby, I had announced to friends that the diaries I’d used for the book were slated for burial or burning. Having made the announcement, I had to follow through. And now the annihilation is well underway. I’ve burned thousands of pages, saving only the covers. It is a veritable holocaust for those little books, the raw material for The Goodbye Baby. Devoid of pages, the empty book covers—flowered, patterned, quilted, and often beautiful—are being passed on to my friend Andrea, who plans to use them for art projects. All that writing has gone up in smoke. All that remains is what exists in the excerpts I used in The Goodbye Baby.
A comforting thought: there will be other diaries. After a lifetime of recording the thoughts and events of each day, I cannot stop being a diarist. The blank book will silently ask, “How was your day?” and as long as I’m still breathing, I will write my answer.
It is getting late.The sun is beginning to set and despite wearing many layers of insulation, I am feeling cold. Closing my notepad and Rosseau’s Meditations, I strap on my pack and descend the zig-zagging trail home.

Life seems better up here