The Aerie
But I was travelling, not thinking - running through O'Hare airport to catch the earlier flight, picking up the rental car, finagling my way out of the Williams Tunnel and onto the right road south. I'd splurged on a Ford Mustang convertible for my rental car, and I was practially to the Cape before I began to think about what I was doing, and what I was feeling.
But finally I was there, at the reviewal for my deceased birthfather.
I made my way to the funeral hall, navigating two Massachussets traffic circles without having an accident, and arrived to find the line for the reviewal stretching out the door.
I stood in line outside, wondering what to do. I didn't know whether I should push past the crowd and announce my presence to my half-siblings, or wait politely in line to get to them. Then I started to wonder, what side of this line was I supposed to be on?
I also was anxious about the people around me. What should I say if I were asked how I knew Ralph? "Well, um, I'm his bastard." No, that would be wrong. "I'm his child who was given up for adoption." Too dramatic. And no matter what answer I came up with, the reply I got back was "Well why are you standing in line?"
But it was impatience that finally won out, and I slipped away from the line as soon as it got through the door.
Inside I thought I spotted my half-brother Sam, but the fellow I addressed did not respond to the name. Then I saw Sam in the receiving line and realized that this doppleganger must be a cousin. Looking around, I saw a lot of dopplegangers: my birthfather's face, my own face, repeated with variations all over the room.
Sam being surrounded by a crowd of sympathizing guests, I made my way over to my half-sister Catherine and said hello. "I don't know what side of the line to be on" I confessed. "You're always welcome on this side," she replied kindly.
But I still didn't feel right, so I wandered around for a while, greeting Sam and then Susan, and then Ralph's widow Georgie. Finally I found myself talking to Ralph's brothers - my uncles.
"Now who are you?" one of them asked, looking at me curiously. It was the moment I had dreaded - being recognized as clearly related to Ralph, but being a stranger.
"I'm um, his eldest son."
It was no secret in the family that Ralph had a son who had been adopted away, and it was no secret that I'd found him ten years ago. But my presence at his reviewal and memorial was by no means assumed - indeed, I don't know that anyone had really considered it either way. So his brothers greeted me with polite surprise, but were occupied with other well wishers. I resumed wandering, taking photographs of the various mosaics of pictures from Ralph's life.
Finally I was approached by a woman who introduced herself as Ann, and asked who I was. She was delighted when I told her, and immediately introduced me around to a whirlwind of names, few of which I remember except for Warren - who I'd mistaken for Sam - and Peter.
Finally I felt comfortable. Enough people in the room knew who I was to at least tell the rest if anyone asked. After several minutes meeting new relatives, I wandered over to stand next to Catherine again - and this time I felt comfortable saying "I'm Ralph's eldest son" to those who asked. I felt like I had some right to be there now that the extended family knew who I was. I really, really didn't want my presence to be disruptive, or to make the reviewal "about me" in any way - but I really wanted to be there, too. By the time the end of the line crawled into view, I felt like I'd managed that, at least approximately.
Afterwards Ralph's children went to the home of his ex-wife Linda. Poor Linda had it harder than I did - I didn't want Ralph's funeral to be "about me", but I at least arrived with little or no baggage. Linda had the difficulty of being the ex-wife, with whatever strings came attached to that. I'm not judging anybody here, just acknowledging that Linda was in a tight spot, wanting to attend Ralph's ceremonies, but not wanting to be disruptive. I could empathize.
But her concerns were not apparent as we visited her home, both on Friday and on Saturday. She was extremely kind and gracious, and both she and her friends and relatives went out of their way to make me feel welcome. I met a number of her relatives who had come down for what was, after all, the death of her ex-husband.
Also when at Linda's house I got to meet my nephew, Catherine's son Benjamin. And there's no way to avoid stating the obvious, this kid is BIG. We're talking linebacker-big, off the charts in the size percentiles. If this kid keeps up, he's going to be seven feet tall and four feet across the shoulders. Not a fat boy, really, just big, big, big. Cute as hell, with his mother's dark eyes and very cheerful. A good kid.
After visiting Linda and having something to eat (the food was delicious but actually by then I would have eaten sawdust stirred into motor oil) we headed back to Sam's house, where I was given to crash in his son's room. I was so tired by then that I passed out almost immediately.
There was plenty of time upon awakening to prepare for the 11:00 a.m. service. Sam's wife Lynn was kind enough to prepare breakfast for everyone (I washed up afterwards), and we talked for a while before putting on our monkey suits for the service.
At the church Catherine kept busy setting up the pictures in the meeting hall, and dealing with the flowers which were locked into the funeral home despite promises that the building would be open. Eventually we all gathered in an anteroom and talked with visitors as we waited for the service to begin. Eventually we proceeded through the chapel and were seated up front, where I found myself in between Sam and Lynn.
The service was very nice - about Ralph rather than about God as have been so many of the funerals I've been to recently. Most touching was when his four older brothers gathered to give the eulogy.
We were then asked to share any memories we may have had about Ralph. I was unsure whether to say anything. The first fellow rose to speak, a boyhood friend of Ralph's who remembered wrestling with him on the front lawn, but after that there was a pause where nobody seemed about to say anything. My caretaker mode kicked in, and I rose to my feet.
Of course, then I realized I had to say something.
"I didn't have a lot of time to get to know Ralph," I said, "But during the time I knew him he was never anything but kind, never anything but generous, and never anything but gracious. I didn't get to know him as well as I'd have liked, but I think I got to know what was important about him." That's about what I said, and I'll stand by that sentiment.
After the service we had a long reception, featuring delicious lobster and crab rolls as well as two hundred kinds of dessert, all chocolate. I had opportunity to talk to many new relatives, including my uncles, several cousins, some aunts, and even one woman who identified herself as an adoptee as well.
Everyone was terribly, terribly kind. There are no formal guidelines on how to be a reunited adoptee at a birthfather's funeral. There are no formal rules for how to treat a reunited adoptee who shows up at one. But formal rules weren't necessary - Ralph's extended family is steeped in courtesy and kindness and general decency, and that more than compensated for the fact that we didn't have any steps to our reunion dances.
After the reception we went to Linda's for a time, and then over to Ralph's house to visit with Georgie. Having treasured his garden, I took the time to photograph all around the outside of Ralph's house - I doubt anyone else will be able to keep it the way Ralph kept it. Then, the weather being fine we all moved out to the front yard and watched baby Benjamin learn to walk on a sloping lawn.
We had a minute after leaving Georgie's to head down to the beach. Sam and Lynn seemed to think that it would be wrong to visit the Cape for three days and not hit the beach, and I think they were right. None of us were dressed to swim and the weather was too cold in any event, so we waded in the warm surf and buried the kids in the sand. Nick looked especially fetching with a pair of sand boobs.
Eventually we packed up and headed back to Sam's, and Catherine and John came by to visit briefly, despite being terribly exhausted and facing a long drive home. For Catherine, in particular, it must be a terribly stressful time: a new baby, living in an apartment while building a new house, job changes, and now Ralph's passing. I hope somebody gives that girl a vacation, and soon.
But despite all this she and John stopped by to visit, and I really appreciated it.
The next morning was great, well, except for the hurricane. By Sunday morning Hurricane Charley arrived at Cape Cod, as tattered and destroyed as a Florida trailer park. As we drove to breakfast a deluge opened up, and I drove with the windshield wipers at maximum, peering through the rain at the fans of water erupting from Sam's car as I followed it.
But we arrived at the restaurant in one piece and had a very nice breakfast together, which they allowed me to pick up. Afterwards I took a couple of snapshots of Sam and his family, including Lynn's neice Mackenzie, and then we said our goodbyes.
Despite the rain - or maybe because of it - there was no traffic at the bridge off of Cape Cod (although I narrowly missed an accident in the turnaround on the far side). Although we took our time having breakfast and I left much later than I expected, I found myself approaching Boston with plenty of time before my four o'clock flight.
So I took a detour to visit a friend I know from the Internet, who I had met back in 2001 while studying for my CISSP exam. Tom and his wife were very friendly, chatting while they packed up for an afternoon barbeque. They even packed me a lunch to eat on the plane!! It turned out being exactly what I needed to stave off starvation later in the evening, so I was profoundly grateful. Also, I was able to use part of it for a bribe...
I set forth from Tom's place and made good time to the airport, discovering along the way that the Callahan tunnel (I think that's the name) is not a toll tunnel like the outbound Williams tunnel. Well before I expected to be there, I was at the rental lot and dropping off my car. I arrived at the airport almost two hours early.
My flight back was screwey. American routed me to Minneapolis via Washington D.C. (on United) and then Chicago - a different plane each time. The schedule had me travelling for nine hours and arriving at home after midnight on Monday morning. So I began immediately trying to grab an earlier flight in Boston. I was successful, and took off for D.C. at 3:00 instead of four.
Seated at the very back of the aircraft, I grabbed a number of cool photographs on approach to D.C. Strangely enough, when we landed they opened up the back door of the plane as well as the front, and allowed us to disembark onto the tarmack and follow a path on the pavement to a door back into the terminal. Instead of being the last off the plane, I was one of the first.
I hurried through the airport to the American Airlines desk and located the gate for the next flight to Chicago. Hurrying to the gate, I managed to grab a standby seat, and shortly flew out of D.C. about half an hour before I'd been even due to arrive.
Chicago was trickier. Our flight was delayed on landing and spent an extra half-hour circling the city. By the time we landed the next Minneapolis flight, 8:30, was just about ready to board. "The flight is full," the attendant told me at the gate, "and standby is closed." I despaired of making the flight. If I missed this one the next flight to Minneapolis was my original flight out, 10:49, arriving just after midnight. All the gains I had accrued on my prior standby flights would be lost.
Tom and his wife had packed me some Lindt chocolates along with an orange and a sandwich. I quickly slipped one from my bag and tucked it into my boarding pass envelope. "Please," I told the gate attendant, "Could you take down my name? I'd REALLY appreciate it." I passed her the envelope.
It disappeared below the counter. She clicked some keys and produced some beeps.
"Wait over there," she said, "and don't hover!,"
I waited. The plane boarded. A pilot arrived and asked for the jumpseat. She called a family of three on standby.
"I'm not hovering!" I called from across the lounge.
"Your voice is hovering," she called back sharply.
She called for two passengers to board. No reaction. My hopes began to rise. Then a couple appeared. He was tall and handsome, like a Ken doll. She was tall and gorgeous, like a brunette Barbie. They tonguewrestled vigorously and apparently she won, because he turned and boarded the plane. One down. A few minutes later a heavy fellow on a cell phone walked briskly through the gate, hardly pausing to have his boarding pass scanned.
Both missing passengers had boarded. The jumpseats were full. And standby had been closed already when I arrived. I turned dejectedly and started to gather my bag to find a place to spend the next two and a half hours.
Then she called my name!
I whirled, handed over my flight coupon, and received a boarding pass in return. I had completed my trifecta of standby flights, and arrived in Minneapolis before 10:00 p.m.
So my long weekend odyssey ended with a full night's sleep.
So I lost my birthfather, and any chance I might have had to get to know better one of the two people who gave me life. But I found along the way was a generous, welcoming family, and witnessed for myself the rewards Ralph reaped for a lifetime spent as part of a closely-knit community. It was emotionally very challenging, both on the up- and down-sides, but it was a worthy undertaking in so many different ways. I feel a lot closer to Ralph's extended family and my siblings, and very fortunately for having the chance to get to know them.