I met with the family of my presumed birth father less than a week ago. Today, I got a follow-up call from his wife of just under 60 years to thank us for the flowers that we presented her with as my wife and I entered their unique cabin in the woods of Scipio, Indiana. She was only 18 when they got married, while he was 20 and passed at age 79. I was surprised that she called, but I was also quite pleased. It was a vote of confidence and credibility that I have been slowly building in the Banister family. It’s also giving me some of the answers that I’ve been searching for the last few years, if not the 67 years I’ve been alive.

As I talked with her for about a half-hour, I began to ask some tough questions that have been haunting me. I realized that she was just as stunned by the circumstances of our unlikely relationship as I am. However, she was very open about my inquiries as to health issues with her husband that could possibly have a bearing on my genetic make-up.

When you seek genetic connections that you’ve never had with adopted parents, you begin to look for common physical characteristics, similar mannerisms, and potential associated health risks. Cecil Ralph Banister was apparently about my age when signs of cancer began to materialize. First, it was a large cyst or lump on the back of the leg that Marilyn noticed when he was working in their barn. He apparently preferred wearing shorts regardless of the weather. I thought about my dog outings and run this morning that I did in shorts, despite the freezing conditions outside. With lymphoma, swelling of the lymph nodes is one of the primarily initial signs. She questioned why he hadn’t had it looked at earlier?

To be honest, I’ve never really worried before about health issues. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss, especially since every form I’ve filled out at a doctor’s office allowed me to skip hereditary issues. This is the first indication that cancer may have existed in my family. I find it a bit disconcerting, but it comes with the territory of finding your true identity. His wife explained in detail the pain, procedures, and decisions that he was forced to make, eventually leading to his tragic death. I will not get into details at this point to protect his dignity, but I also learned that he refused a Purple Heart for his heroism in Korea. This tells me of his humble nature. I mourn his loss, despite the fact that I never met him, and he probably never knew that I existed.

On the lighter side, she told me that he was a fan of Bobby Knight and the Indiana University basketball program. As an athlete himself, he enjoyed all types of sports and was even skilled in shuffleboard. As I slowly digest bits and pieces of his life, as will undoubtedly continue in future calls with the family, I’m probably trying too hard to find similarities. He was an outdoors lover, craftsman, hunter, camper, and soldier; all the things that I’m not. Each of his five daughters was very different in appearance and mannerisms. However, there was a common opinion that my eyes and eyebrows are just like their dad’s. It’s my very first physical confirmation, although people also liked to tell me how much I resembled my adopted parents. Regardless of any connections I may develop with this new family, I will never forget my real family. I’m simply now more aware of health threats that could somehow ultimately save my life.