Category: CREATURE FEATURES (Page 30 of 38)

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My! (Plus dogs and cats)

Retirement is not without Hassles: Wrinkle in Time #455

March 10, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Whenever I go to an antique or baseball card show, it’s like a step back in time. It’s remarkable how some of these items have survived all these years, in spite of mothers like mine who threw away millions of dollars worth of “junk.” Some would argue that they only reason that these items have grown so much in value is because of such purging. Closets were cleared, attics emptied, and crawl spaces cleansed. Damage, rust, and breakage led to further extinction of our precious artifacts. As they say, one man’s junk is another man’s treasure, and once-considered throwaways are now keepers.

A friend and I were talking about baseball cards this morning. When we were boys, it was somehow “cool” to clothespin these cards to the spokes of a bicycle wheel. In motion, it would clatter like a motor, giving us a sensation of speed. It was a childish, silly idea, but everyone did it. Thousands of Mickey Mantle cards were chewed up in this process, each with a current day value of at least $500, along with likenesses of Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, and Ted Williams. The surviving cards are now protected by plastic sheets and air-tight cases, preserving their now-rare status. Oh, to be able to go back in time.

Before the days of Tupperware containers, basement floods did the worst kind of damage. You could still see a wrinkled, washed-out, stained version of your documents, photos, or other valuables, but they might as well have destroyed beyond recognition by fire. Also, items that that were stored were often forgotten and their values lost to rodents, birds, humidity, heat, freezing temperatures, theft, and obsolescence. After all these years, we see a shiny version of what we once had at an antique show, and wish that we had taken better care. They bring back misplaced memories of yesteryear.

My wife’s favorite book growing up was A Wrinkle in Time. A first edition copy is now worth as much as $2,800. With the release of the movie this week, the value will only go up. I love books and movies about time travel, so I’m sure I’ll be intrigued with this movie adaptation, although I’ve never read Madeline L’Engle’s novel. The Time Machine, The Time Traveler’s Wife, 11.22.63, Outlander, Time and Again, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, Slaughterhouse Five, Timeline, Passenger, Back to the Future, If I Never Get Back, and Midnight in Paris are some of my “time sensitive” recommendations.

You don’t have to buy a book or movie ticket to time travel. Just go to a garage sale. Many of the items will literally take you back in time. If you want to spend some admission money, visit an antique show, museum, or historical exhibit. You don’t have to worry about accidentally changing the future, and there’s no jet lag when you travel this way.

I feel “time sensitive” today, especially considering that many of us will lose an hour tonight as we “spring forward.” When you think about it, it’s not really lost time, but rather a shorter day. Also, we’ll be on the receiving end later this year when we “fall back,” and that day expands to 25 hours. I will probably not miss this hour until my wife gets up for her Monday workday, as I’ll have to run in the dark. Later next week, I will then temporarily lose another 8 hours traveling east. This is all related to travel time not time travel, but nonetheless it’s still a wrinkle.

Creature Features: Talking dogs #448

March 5, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

There are times when you wish your pets could talk and tell you exactly what they need. How were we to know that she was about to have another bad case of Tinkerreah? Tinker, after all, is the “Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” so a little more information than pacing back and forth might have been helpful. This was the case the other night. It was three in the morning and Tinker was restless. As I got up to use the bathroom for the umpteenth time that night, she was right on my heels. She’s typically pretty vocal and barks like a maniac when she needs something important. This was important, and she regrettably didn’t do as good of a job as Lassie, the lovable collie, in reporting that “Timmy was in the well.” Well, as it turns out, Timmy was never stuck in a well in any of the episodes, but the point was that the dog could communicate, even if it couldn’t talk.

I’m retired now, so I’m with our three pets all day long. They are quiet most of the day, except for when my wife comes home from work in the evening. “Don’t you ever pay any attention to them?” she will ask me, as they each vie for her attention. “It’s you that they want. They’re bored with me,” I will remind her. They can hear her car pull into the neighborhood, and anxiously make their way to the door to greet her with barking and jumping. It’s a grand reception that every pet owner craves, and she gets one each and every night, while I’m stuck with bladder-relief responsibilities. When she wants to relax on the couch, Tinker barks incessantly, wanting to play ball with her – not me. Tally wants to be on her lap, and Frankie the cat comes out of the dark bedroom for the first time each day.

Tinker barks at me when she’s hungry, and she’s hungry all the time, stalking me every time I pass near the kitchen. I can’t open anything without getting “the look,” that angelic face of starvation. Lately, practically every snack I give her comes back to haunt us in the form of Tinkerreah. She just turned fourteen and her once cast-iron digestive system is showing its age. I feel sorry for her because her appetite is still like a puppy. Snoopy, Charlie Brown’s pet beagle, at least expressed himself through balloons. I wish a balloon had popped up over Tinker’s head saying, “I have to poop, dad!” Before babies can talk, they at least wear a diaper.

There were other famous dogs that could communicate better than even Lassie, like Scooby-Doo, the Great Dane who spoke in broken English but usually put an “R” in front of his words and noises like “Ruh-Roh.” Tinker had that “ruh-roh” moment just before she let loose on our kitchen floor. I tried to get her safely outside, but it was too late! I need a better warning system.

The most vocal dog, in my opinion, is Brian Griffin from Family Guy. He can tell you if he has to poop, or at least Seth MacFarlane can. This is known as being anthromorphic, like Mr. Ed, who was a horse, of course. Mr. Ed could just poop in his stall, so he didn’t need to use his voice for this purpose. Astro, the Great Dane on The Jetson’s, also had a speech impediment like Scooby-Doo, but could definitely let you know when he had to “roh.” Goofy could talk but Pluto couldn’t because Disney unfairly distinguished between animated characters, making Goofy human-like and Pluto just a pet. The dirty word “Poop” was never used by either of these All-American characters, put Pluto thought about it. The only other talking dog that I can think of was the Taco Bell chihauhau, who only spoke Spanish. “Mierda.”

Tinker, “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” is not quite as famous as Benji, The Shaggy Dog, Martin Crane’s Eddie, Old Yeller, Beethoven, Rin-Tin-Tin, Full House’s Comet, The Little Rascal’s Petey, Otis, Toto, Hooch, Cujo, or Marley. Maybe, someday, she will be, as stories of Tinkerreah become legendary. In the meantime, only I give a “poop” that she be able to give me a stronger signal when she needs to go outside.

Creature Features: Priceless Pup #440

February 22, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Another trip and payment to the vet today inspired this poem:

Priceless Pup

The dog we own,
Didn’t cost a cent.
You wonder years later,
Where the money went?

Sitters and daycare,
Shots and grooming.
Collars and toys,
Halloween costuming.

Meds and beds,
Treats and eats.
Tags and bags,
Meet and Greets.

With every trip,
To see the Vet.
I tend to break,
Out in a sweat.

Leashes and exams,
Pills for ills
Samples to test,
More clinic bills.

Fancy biscuits.
Bags of crunchies.
Chews and kibbles,
Gourmet munchies.

Special diet needs?
Clippings and cleanings.
Surgery expenses?
X-Rays and screenings

Vet.Pet.Debt.
Spend and Repeat.
I should have just,
Gotten a parakeet.

Add it all up,
It must be a million.
Spent on a dog,
Now worth a zillion.

Creature Features: Deck Check #439

February 22, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I should not have given Tinker, our oldest schnauzer, those tortilla chips yesterday. I took her out early this morning and saw no indication of a problem. She and younger sister Tally were enjoying the 3″ of snow that fell last night. Tinker does not like grass, most likely because of her allergies, so the blanket of snow provided a protective shield for her sensitive paws. Tally was busy digging in the snow and running circles around her, while she was trying to do her business.

An hour after Tinker was back inside our house, she began to bug my wife, fidgeting, shivering, and pacing down the hall. With the cold temperatures outside, my wife put on her Thunder Shirt that tightly hugs her body and provides comfort. We typically put this on in thunderstorms that were frequent when we lived in Austin, Texas, but rarely happen in Portland. As my wife opened the shutters on the sliding doors to the back deck, Tinker immediately went to look out the glass, so she opened the door and let her out. It was another bad case of “Tinkerrhea” (See Posts #370 and #371). My wife was not aware that I fed her chips yesterday, so she was disappointed in my actions, but relieved that it wasn’t something else. I went out later to clean up the mess and thought of this silly poem in honor of the occasion:

Deck Check

Before you step,
You need to check.
In venturing out,
On our back deck.

There’s no fenced yard,
Where we live.
So when pups gotta go,
Something has to give.

When weather’s bad,
Or emergency calls.
And dogs starts pacing,
Around our halls.

The only solution,
To get outside.
The sliding door,
Gets opened wide.

There’s no grass,
Just planks of wood.
But in a pinch,
It works real good.

There’s potted plants,
A table and chairs.
One way in or out,
No exit stairs.

A massive grill,
That smells of meat.
So sniffing that,
Is quite a treat.

So open up,
It’s time to go.
Bombs away,
Look out below.

Between the cracks,
A target looms.
With some help,
Let’s hope it blooms.

So watch out,
When you come over.
Dodge the spots,
Left from rover.

Before you step,
You need to check.
In venturing out,
On our poop deck.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Retirement Routine #438

February 22, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

No mail. No trash. No plumber. Just snow.

This sums up yesterday’s excitement and why should have be very busy. Maybe tomorrow? The weather this week has affected my retirement routine, so tomorrow will be the make-up day. Plus, I could not have picked a less entertaining combination of a book and documentary to be “my time” companions. It seems that I have been reading the Grant biography for an eternity, as it continues to drag along like the Civil War, and the Ken Burns documentary The Dust Bowl turned out to be one of his most depressing subject matters, comparable to Cancer. After four hours, I felt like my shoulders were gathering dust, watching these poor, misfortune Americans battle a decade of droughts, starvation, poverty, dirt storms, disease, locusts, and death. It did make me appreciate the “tropical lush” conditions of the Northwest and how trivial my retirement hassles really are. No Mail. No trash. No plumber. Oh My!

Tinker has to go to the vet for a cortisone shot, this too delayed from earlier this week due to early closings from the weather. Vet.Pet.Debt. The sink will finally get fixed, a hassle that I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have indoor plumbing. Trash pickup and mail delivery will hopefully resume as the ice melts, and my wife can return to driving herself to work. However, with the leadership meeting tomorrow, fundraisers to attend, and a red-eye to catch, my preferred role as a homebody will have to wait at least another week-and-a-half. I don’t think there’s enough drama or intrigue in my life for a book or documentary. I admittedly lead an uneventful, boring life with exaggerated hassles that I force you to read about every day. Just be patient – wait for it – there will be something of value in at least one of these next 10,995 posts. (See Post #433).

I was forced to run on the treadmill yesterday and today, rather than risk breaking my neck on the icy streets, just to keep my nine-year-plus running streak intact. (See Post #6). I will soon be running on foreign turf, boat decks, through airports, cobblestone streets, around walled cities, over canals, and “streak” through the famous “Red Light District.” I will be running despite too much food from the cruise buffets, rough seas, and after too much to drink because of the unlimited alcohol package that we purchased. I will also undoubtedly overdo it on bottomless Diet Cokes, irresistible pizza snacks, rich desserts, and 24-hour breakfast bars. “Run, Forest, Run!” or should that be “Drink, Mike, Drink?”

I was pleased to discover that we’re actually getting a small tax refund from my first retirement return, after years of “paying the piper.” I also saved a little money after discovering a couple of billing mistakes on my credit card. I certainly have the time now to carefully monitor my money and fight for these credits. Most of the cruise is already paid in advance, along with hotel costs, shore excursions, and tickets, so I won’t need to further tap into my bleeding IRA. We will next start to take advantage of our Marriott Vacation Club investment to reduce our $1,000 a day average travel expense. (See Post #323). The pets will once again be left behind in the care of a house sitter, so I will miss my daily conversation with them, but not the responsibility of taking them out five times a day or more. The countdown clock on the Viking Cruise website is down to 24 days. This is a much more appealing countdown than the one on the Hood To Coast website from last year. (See Post #220).

My wife has been safely delivered to work again this morning. Date night was cancelled to further disrupt our weekly routine. My meal preparation was also shaky this week, as I apparently ruined a cast iron skillet, burned some of the sweet potatoes, and made another characteristic mess. It tasted great thanks to the pork belly, but it was not one of my more successful aesthetic culinary presentations. On the positive side, I’m looking forward to a week off from my kitchen responsibilities so we can both recover from my cooking incompetency. For the first time in 14 months, I’ve gone to work every day this week, but only to drop her off and pick her up. It’s also a practice that I hope doesn’t become routine.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Retirement Depression #437

February 21, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

If I had to define retirement depression, it would be when you don’t get to do what you want to do. This could be because you’re not physically, mentally, or financially able to do something, when you’re restricted to someone else’s schedule, or you’re lacking companionship. Work always put you on someone else’s schedule, so I’m glad to be retired and have the freedom to control my own time – but there are exceptions. I was a bit depressed yesterday because I was on my wife’s schedule when weather interrupted my planned routine for the day. It wasn’t as if I had anything important planned, it was because I selfishly wanted a day to unwind from the rigors of recent travel. Instead, I shuttled her back and forth from work, dealing with icy hills, tentative commuters, and uncooperative stop lights. In the process, my wife enjoyed the company of our two dogs on what is typically a lonely drive to work. The dogs loved it, too, while I liked the companionship, just not the driving responsibilities.

After running several errands on the way to and from her offices, it seemed like an eternity before I finally got back home. Then, I had to turn around and go back. The same thing happened today, as my shuttle services resumed after several more inches of snow were deposited overnight. More is expected yet this week before we head back to Indiana and face similar weather conditions. On the positive side, there are few hills to navigate, but to get there we face a red-eye flight schedule, and once we arrive, days filled with family obligations. Once again, we’re on someone else’s schedule.

The same could be said about our upcoming cruise. Every day is filled with rigorous schedules to follow that involve airlines, tour guides, and ship routes. Once we get on the boat, we’re a captive audience limited to embarkment and disembarkment points along the way. We have a ticket for a specified time to visit Anne Frank’s home in Amsterdam, and have laid-out specific sites that we need to see in Venice and Athens. We’re doing organized shore excursions to a farmer’s market in Slovenia, historic sites in Sibenik, a cable car ride in Croatia, plus walks around Montenegro, Corfu, Olympia, Santorini, and Ancient Greece. We have also scheduled spa appointments and dinner reservations. Not a day goes by where there is not a structured plan. It almost sounds exhausting, but it’s the only way to see and do the things we want to explore. I’m surprised that we are not restricted to toilet times. There will be no time for depression, but rest and “my time” will be badly needed once we return.

I’m not making fun of depression, a malady that I’ve had to deal with several times in my life. Some people never recover, while others take their own lives. I’ve been on medication on two different occasions that resolved some issues but created others, and to a lesser degree began to take Vitamin D3 and use a “Happy Lamp” to counter the lack of sunshine when we first moved here to Portland. Furthermore, I have sought professional therapy and tried to prepare for potential depression that others have experienced in the transition from a fulfilling career to retirement. Honestly, I have been too busy in retirement to allow the cloud of depression to settle over me. It does rear its ugly head when I don’t get to do what I want to do because money, illness, loneliness, or injury gets in the way. These are the four major challenges of old age that every retiree has to overcome in avoiding serious depression. It’s possible to have a really bad day in retirement, but much more likely that the worse days are behind me in trying to balance career, family, and education. Now, a bad day is nothing but a selfish pout when I can’t stay home and avoid reality.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Ski #423

February 7, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I’ve spent a lot of on airplanes in my 66 years, but I still find it exciting to fly. What I don’t enjoy is the packing, airport commute, parking, shuttle bus, security, and waiting. I’m now more than an hour early at the gate, and can feel some of the pre-departure stress starting to melt away. After all these years, I still experience the anxiety of getting there on time. There’s just too much that can go wrong, and I’m always a bit of a mess in anticipation. I’m grumpy, impatient, intolerant, and inconvenienced until I finally have settled into my seat.

Today was no exception, since I also had ski equipment to contend with, making my travel bag dangerously close to the 50 pound limit. There was no room for error, as I carefully weighed in at one of the pre-check scales ready to transfer weight from bag to bag if necessary. I got my “exact”money’s worth as a master packer. Getting rid of all that baggage, never to be seen again until arrival, was a relief.

Cumbersome skis, heavy boots, extra clothing, and lots of preparation time are the downsides of a ski trip. Exhilaration, camaraderie, and unbuckling your boots for a cocktail are the upsides. I have a three-day ski pass to use before my wife arrives for the weekend. We both hate the fact that we’re apart, but she is not a skier. She’s coming in primarily for a friend’s 65th birthday celebration.

I should probably wear the sign, “Caution: Senior Skier” for everyone’s safety. After two years away from the slopes, I’m sure that my steadiness on skis has further deteriorated. I was never a totally confident skier, having only learned the sport in my thirties. I try to always stay on two skies, never take chances, avoid moguls, and slowly cut a path to the bottom. I’m usually the last one down, getting the side-to-side “most” out of the course. If my skiing is anything like my running, I get slower every year, so flashing warning lights might be advisable.

I first skied at the Lake Geneva Playboy Club in a brown corduroy suit, with no lessons or support. The college friends I went with were all expert skiers and quickly abandoned me to the Bunny Slopes- maybe it was my outfit! I put the skis on that they loaned me, pointed them downhill, and unable to stop promptly crashed into the lift-line at the bottom. Embarrassed, I took the skis off and waited in the lounge, too young to even legally order a drink.

It wouldn’t be until 12 years later that I finally took a lesson and tried again. My fearless young son learned to ski along with me, and had much quicker success than I did. I painfully discovered that it wasn’t like water skiing. It required you to lean forward not back, and I slowly began to gain control and to use my edges to navigate. I’ve now skied in Colorado, Indiana, Wisconsin, Michigan, Vermont, Utah, Idaho, Montana, West Virginia, Oregon, and British Columbia.

Despite my experience, my body doesn’t always cooperate. Running keeps me in shape, but age has taken a toll on my legs. High altitude and seldom used thigh muscles keep me breathless and humble. Crowded slopes make me nervous and un-groomed trails seem treacherous. However, it’s still fun to do, and I’m thankful I still can. Years ago, it seemed like there were more Senior Citizen discounts that I vowed to take advantage of some day. Well, that day has come and there were no Silver Skier discounts that I could find.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Friendship #420

February 4, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

The month of February is all about friendship and love. It started with two concerts and dinner with good friends. We saw 72 year-old Bruce Cockburn and 65 year-old John Hiatt, two performers that I would not have normally gone to see, but thoroughly enjoyed. It was good to see two fellow Senior Class members still active on the circuit. I was envious of their continued passion for their work, extending their careers into the twilight of their lives. Both of my retired buddies play and collect guitars, so I often follow their lead on must-be-seen-before-they-die performers. I’m rarely disappointed, and get to experience some of the unique music venues around Portland, like the Aladdin Theater and Revolution Hall. Also, older audiences tend to be better behaved and prefer to remain seated, rather than interfere with your view of the stage in favor of their awkward dance moves.

My best friend & wife next went to see the movie, Lady Bird, as a popcorn dinner and holding hands is our weekly tradition. We certainly hold hands more often, but restrict our popcorn eating to theaters and sometimes ballparks. I will leave her for a few days this week to ski with old friends in Steamboat. She doesn’t ski and prefers warmer climates to use her precious vacation time, so she’ll spend just her weekend with us, as we celebrate the 65th birthday of our hostess. She and her husband just bought a retirement home near the slopes, so they invited several of us to join them for the week. I will approach the mountain with caution, as all retirees should, hoping to return without a cast. I haven’t skied in at least two years, as evident by the cob webs on the padded travel bag that holds my equipment. The only other item in our garage with more dust on it is my golf bag.

When we aren’t traveling, my wife likes to spend her weekends with her two best friends, our schnauzer pups. When she gets home at night after a hard day at the office, she’s too exhausted to spend much time with them, so she tries to make up for it with long weekend walks. I will run ahead with Tally until she quickly loses interest and then loop back to the slower moving Tinker, who no longer runs and stays at my wife’s side. Tinker is like me in her hesitation to spend too much time outdoors. She has so many allergies and hates the feel of some grasses on her paws, so the outdoors is nothing to her but a giant toilet. In her opinion, there’s no other reason to go out there, unless it’s to go for a ride in the car. On the other hand, Tally loves to romp, and it’s critical to keep her on a leash. The weekend walk/runs give both Tinker and Tally the opportunity to sniff the butts of their furry friends.

My wife enjoys music, but our tastes slightly differ. She prefers uplifting popular music, while I lean more to the blues and classic rock. She has already bought tickets to see Pink, Steely Dan with The Doobie Brothers, James Taylor & Bonnie Raitt, Hall & Oates with Train, Sam Smith, Def Leppard/Journey, and Elton John. I will enjoy all of these shows, for in most cases, the second or third time around. At least, Pink, Sam Smith, and Train are not yet of retirement age and will be fresh new experiences for me. Also, we have reserved seats for each of these shows. The two shows I just attended this past week were in much smaller venues than these Moda Center dates, so it was strictly General Admission. That meant we also had to be there an hour early and wait in line for a decent seat. It makes for a long evening. I much prefer the assigned seats that we have for these upcoming shows, and appreciate that even movie theaters now allow you to select seats in advance. It avoids hassle and saves time, but it still doesn’t resolve the problems associated with those sitting in neighboring seats. (See Post #121).

Our February tour continues from Steamboat to Phoenix, for my wife’s budget meetings. We will have to spend Valentine’s Day apart, but I will fly in the next day once the business sessions conclude. Friends from Tucson will drive us to their home for the weekend. We hooked up with them last year after several years apart, so we’ll get a chance to experience more of the desert. I will then connect with a Fraternity Brother, who I reunited with last year after nearly 40 years. We plan to go to Surprise, Arizona and watch the Oregon State Beavers play Cal Poly in a college baseball tournament. Unfortunately, The timing of the budget meetings is just about a week early for Spring Training, otherwise we would have had some other choices for games. I’ll fly out early the next morning.

The February “friendship and love tour” ends with a trip back to Indiana. My wife’s niece is expecting their first child, and she is being honored with a shower. We also have to take my wife’s 96 year-old mother to the doctor, as is the case several times a year for us. Hopefully, she’ll stay out of the hospital on this trip. In the back of my mind, I still have hopes that I will hear back from my birth mother’s family, but I would also like to go Shelbyville, her home town, and look through the high school yearbooks for some photos of her and her siblings. It’s been about 12 days now since they received my certified letter (See Post #404). It took 9 days for the letter to get to them, so I will approach the mailbox tomorrow like a kid waiting for Christmas.

When the short month of February comes to an end, after spending half of it on the road, I will promise to spend as much time as possible with my wife. I haven’t been very attentive, leaving her alone in favor of other friends. We’ll spend half the month of March on a cruise ship with little time apart, after spending Valentine’s Day in two separate cities. Last year, her meeting didn’t start until the day after, so I’m sure there are other employees disappointed about not spending the “biggest day of love each year” with their significant other. I’ll at least have the two puppies and the cat to keep me company. She’ll have just The Company!

Diary of an Adoptee: Adoptee Diary #411

January 27, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I was having a conversation with a friend today about the potential of finding my birth mother. It’s inspired several posts that I’ve now decided to relabel as “Diary of an Adoptee” rather than “Retirement is not without Hassles.” I’ve also decided to go back through my posts from this past year of retirement and start this new category. I have already used the category of “Creature Features” to write about my love of pets and other animals. Out of that category of posts have generated a humorous children’s book idea about our Schnauzer Tinker. I will call it “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” among the 400 plus articles that I’ve written. Tinker is also an adoptee, as is our other schnauzer, Tally.

For any of you that know me personally, I’m not typically a serious writer, as I’m much more comfortable being silly and/or humorous. A majority of the poems that I’ve posted are supposed to be funny. However, sometimes my emotions get the better of me, as I use my writing of this blog to express my inner feelings rather than paying for a therapist. I’ve already had that experience several times in my life, and as the subjects turned serious, the flight mechanism of humor would automatically kick in. I also try to express my passion for sports through the category of “Old Sport Shorts,” that you will also find scattered throughout this blog.

The adoption issues in my life are very emotional, particularly since my adoptive parents died a few years ago. Suddenly, there have been developments that have resulted in the whereabouts of my birth mother. Unfortunately, she may not know about my discovery as yet. I’m waiting for a response from a certified letter that I sent, and this subject weighs heavily on my mind. It’s not funny, so please bear with me, and if you’re not interested in the adoption aspects of my life, then you can confine your reading to my other categories. I wrote this poem today to express some of these feelings, some of which are embarrassing:

Adoptee Diary

I was a child,

With no Family Tree.

Because I was born,

An adoptee.

My father unknown,

Suspected Marine.

The scared mother,

Still a young teen.

.

I’m given the name,

Of Jerry Lee.

And didn’t know who,

My parents might be?

.

The next thing I knew,

A couple agreed.

They’d give me love,

And what else I might need.

.

I was soon in their home,

With the court to decide.

If they were worthy,

To remain at my side.

.

I was named Mike,

As they both agreed.

And I soon began,

To grow like a weed.

.

They raised me as if,

I was their own.

And cared for me,

Until fully grown.

.

With love and support,

I was never alone.

Showed me the skills,

To live on my own.

.

I added a branch,

Through birth of a son.

My family tree,

Had just begun.

.

Grand kids were added,

But my parents passed on.

In the back of my mind,

Not all was gone.

.

I had a name of the girl,

That gave me life.

And the love of another,

My precious wife.

.

It must have been fate,

To find my birth mother.

After all these years,

I also had a brother.

.

With cautious hope,

I wrote to him.

A chance for reunion?

Predictably thin.

.

And as I await,

For a reply.

I’m glad I at least,

Decided to try.

.

As I’m sixty-six.

She’d be eighty-four.

If she’s still able,

I’d be hard to ignore.

.

But is she alive?

And my facts correct?

Could our lives,

Once again intersect?

.

Until I have the answer,

Of a new Family Tree.

I’ve started to write,

The Adoptee Diary.

Diary of an Adoptee: Thanks Cousin #410

January 27, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

With all the excitement surrounding the discovery of my birth mother, I needed to send a thank you note to my 23andMe source. According to genetic testing that we both did through the site, we share .96% of our DNA, putting us as close as third cousins. He’s searching for the exact nature of our connection, and in the process we’ve been exchanging information. I wanted him to know of my recent breakthrough, in hopes that it helps us solve some additional mysteries about our roots. This was the note that I just sent him:

Hi Terry – I’ve been remiss in thanking you for the information that you sent. It got me on the right track. The Edna Faye Banister of Shelbyville, Indiana birth certificate that you forwarded, combined with the 1940 Census, matched all 7 of her siblings (including twins one year older) and their ages exactly with the generic information that I received from the adoption agency. This extends right down to the railroad guard employment connections. I then discovered that she was married 5 years later to Charles Poole of Seymour, Indiana. They had a son that they named Jerry Lee (the same name that she gave me at birth through the Suemma Coleman adoption agency in Indianapolis).

The name Jerry Lee Bannister (or Banister) is on all the official court records that I also have in my possession. I was next able to get a White Pages address for Jerry Lee Poole and sent him a certified letter with many of the same documents you sent me. The certified letter was signed for last week and I’m hoping for a reply, once the initial shock wears off. If he decides to share it with his mother? I’m not sure of her health at age 84, but I was able to see recent pictures of her on his Facebook page. There is a resemblance. I apparently had two other younger step brothers through a second marriage that both tragically passed. Furthermore, I sent a note to the son of one of her twin brothers that maintains the Banister family tree through Ancestry.com. I bought a trial membership and entered all my new connections as the Jerry Lee Bannister Family Tree. Thanks to you I now have solved the most important piece of the puzzle, and perhaps can help you if I can get information on the Marine father. I’ll continue to stay in touch, as I get more details – but once again, I can’t thank you enough!

I sent this message through the 23andMe website, hoping that he will share my enthusiasm. As you can probably tell, I am totally consumed in this investigation, and have felt the need to express myself through this blog. It’s definitely personal therapy for me, as I face this touchy situation alone. I promise to share what I know, and to try not to dwell on this subject.