As an adoptee, I’m allowed to fantasize. After all, I’ve been deprived of the truth about my biological history. For 65 years, I had only been able to dream as to the true identity of my birth parents. However, in the last two years, I’ve gained some information that has gotten me closer to their identities. I can’t say with 100% certainty that I’ve solved the mystery, but I know enough to have earned the right to make an educated guess. It seems only fitting that I think of them this Thanksgiving weekend when 68 years ago they gave me life. 

I was born on August 27, 1951, so it’s safe to assume that conception took place in the vicinity of Thanksgiving weekend 1950. If DNA comparisons are accurate, the father would have just turned 19 on July 2nd of that year. In turn, adoption and census records show the mother to have been just 17 years old, as of April 9th and a junior at North Vernon high school. He had already graduated from North Vernon high and planned to report to the Marines after the first of the year. They lived about 10 minutes apart.

As distant cousins, they both had the same last name of Banister, although my birth certificate spelled the name with two n’s. They might have initially met at family get-togethers but certainly knew each other at school. Maybe he was friends with her twin older brothers? He was described by her as being gregarious, active in sports, tall (6’2″), and handsome, while she was petite, a foot shorter at 102 pounds. They were attracted to each other and arranged to get together around the Thanksgiving school break. Maybe they went to a dance or a movie? Maybe they had been dating for some time?

It could have happened in the back seat of his car on a cold night, but most likely I will never know. He died years ago, while she continues to deny any knowledge of my existence.  I can only imagine her horror in finding out a few months later that she was pregnant. She also had to deal with the stigma of having a relationship with a relative. He had probably already reported to the Marines by that time, so who could she tell?

I can only imagine her horror in finding out she was pregnant. There were no test kits back then, so she probably continued with school without completely understanding or even admitting to her condition. She would have completed the school year in May of 1951 at 6 months along. Her mother had just turned 46 at the end of the year, and four older sisters were married and out of the house. I doubt she would have shared this with any of her brothers since the twins were still a year ahead of her in high school and the oldest had just gotten married. None of them would have understood an illicit affair with their cousin.  

At some point, she had to confess to her dilemma, and a decision was made to send her that summer to a birthing home in Indianapolis. I’m sure she was already regretting my presence in her life, especially in a situation away from family and friends. I wonder who visited her, or if she was left alone to atone for her mistake? I do know that she did not return to high school for her senior year and that the father was married to someone else shortly after she gave birth to me.  

A year after my birth she was living in Columbus, Indiana and working as a machine operator, hoping to forget about the trauma that she experienced. Perhaps she also had strong feelings for the father and regrets that they never married or had the opportunity to raise me as their own? In 1956, she gave birth to her first legitimate son, but oddly also named him Jerry Lee. In a subsequent marriage, she then had two sons and a daughter. In the meantime, I was adopted by a couple from Elkhart, Indiana in October of 1951 and grew up in that community, while she eventually moved to Seymour, Indiana a town only 220 miles away. I’ve tried to contact both her and her son, but each continues to disavow any relationship. Unfortunately, time is running out on turning this story of supposition into confirmed facts.