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Category: Diary of an Adoptee (page 1 of 12)
There are now nearly 800 Leggs on my Ancestry.com Jerry Ban(n)ister Family Tree, strongly outnumbering even the Ban(n)isters. Every day a few more names get added to the point where there are now over 20,000 connections that I have found. For months now I had been searching for a 3rd cousin named Larry Bogue, one of the close DNA matches that had yet to fit on any branch of this sprawling tree. I went to Facebook and found the name associated with Purdue University. Even though he now lived in Colorado Springs, I had the feeling that he was originally was Indiana and my hunch was right. His family grew up in Tipton County that is directly in the heart of the Central Indiana Ban(n)ister nest. After finding an obituary for his father on-line, I then discovered that his grandmother was a Legg and added him to my tree with a green “DNA MATCH” tag.
Although the name Legg is obviously a popular one in Ban(n)ister heritage, it was not common in my circle of friends. However, as an adoptee I grew up as a Johnston, not a Bannister as listed on my birth certificate. I did once work with a Bill Legg – the only time I’ve run across it outside of tree I’ve constructed. Personally, when I think of Leggs it’s the popular Z. Z. Top song “she’s got legs, she knows how to use them.” I have written about other Ban(n)ister connections to the Legg family in this blog. (See Post #635 and Post #1104). They also have a good sense of humor with nick-names like “Bird” and “Bent.”
In the process of all this, I may have uncovered a mismatch, where a 2nd cousin relationship identified with a green “DNA MATCH” tag for Charles Leonard “Mousie” Hines could be wrong. Mistakes often happen on tracing genetic roots since the same common birth names are used over and over. It now appears that there are other Hines named Charles in the mix, so additional research will be required to pin-down this association. Furthermore, when I get more time, I will continue to explore Legg lore, since Bill Legg was from the Richmond, Indiana area. There may very well be a relative connection I will find. I know he now lives in South Bend and we continue to be distant friends through Facebook. I’ll have to send him a message.
As I approach 20,000 entries on my Jerry Ban(n)ister Family Tree, I find myself going backwards rather than forward. Most of the DNA connections that I’m now finding are very distant relatives, designated as 5th or 6th generation cousins. In each case, I start in the 1700’s and follow the trail to more modern times. Ancestry maintains privacy for those still alive, so as I move into the 1900’s there is little identifying information. I often discover how we are genetically related, but know little about them personally. Only in a few cases have I actually met these members of my “family.” The majority are simply strangers that have a distant connection to the circumstances regarding my adoption. As a result, I remain clueless on the answers I seek.
What am I looking for? I ask this question every day as I continue to explore the names or initials that have even a slight DNA connection on Ancestry or 23andMe. I then try to see how they fit into the tree and mark them with a green “DNA MATCH” label. Many of my newest discoveries are actually offspring of 2nd or 3rd cousins that were labeled earlier in my research. However, DNA science is a relatively new technology and only my generation was given the opportunity to voluntarily provide samples to be tested. Slowly but surely new names appear in the database, but they tend to be younger, perhaps seeking answers like me. The closest I now find are third or fourth cousins, as my generation continues to die.
It seems a bit morbid but the only new information I now get is in the obituaries of my peers. They list living family members that only show up as “private” on Ancestry records. It’s unfortunately the only way to fill-in the holes on my family tree. Someone has to die to reveal the family secrets that are hidden from the public. This is especially true for me because I don’t know these people that are my relatives. I didn’t grow up with them or attend reunions to meet their parents or children.
It’s a sad quest, especially knowing that my 86-year old birth mother is alive but unresponsive along with her children who ignore my inquiries. It’s as if I’m prying into their lives, when I should have the right to answers. The family tree research exercises I go through every day are futile attempts to know the people who gave me life. She probably gave me a better life through adoption so I’m nothing but grateful. However, without her acknowledgment of our relationship, I will always probably remain clueless.
When I talked to my sister today, as I do at the start of every week, she recalled that we never went to Disney World as kids because my dad hated lines. As my wife then pointed out, he was also impatient in traffic and had a bad habit of leaving cabinet doors open. This was all learned behavior for me, especially the part about line phobia. Admittedly, I hate to wait, cuss & swear like a pirate while driving, and forget to close doors, cabinets, or to turn off lights. I hadn’t really thought about why. Now, I know…thanks dad.
As an adopted child, I obviously inherited none of his physical traits, but we shared an interest in numbers, sports, and planning budgets, even though I don’t necessarily stick to them like he did. As an accountant, he was frugal – I am not. He was neat – I’m more of a slob. Both of us were prone to yell at the T.V., but he also liked to taunt the referees (“You meatball!”). I’m less boisterous in public situations, probably because of this! After work, he was a powder keg ready to explode and hid behind a newspaper in silence while nursing a cocktail, as the alcohol effectively instilled a sense of calm. We knew to stay away and to never ask for anything during that critical home reorientation time. Despite some of these quirks, he was still my idol and I spent my entire life trying to emulate his success. I loved sharing good news with him, but feared the opposite.
Through the years, I’ve gotten better about dealing with any phobias about standing in line. Along with my dislike of buffets and cafeterias where I had to serve myself, these were my two greatest adaptation challenges. Phones have certainly helped me deal with the boredom of waiting. I’ve also learned to appreciate the fact that it’s difficult to spend money while standing in line. An hour in line can save hundreds of dollars, especially if you can check on sports scores, answer e-mails, and play games to pass the time. Particularly in New York City or Las Vegas, it’s time not spent in expensive stores or pricey restaurants. Cafeterias also save money, plus you get your food much quicker. For my wife who’s a picky eater, it avoids the hassle of sending things back to the kitchen. She can see the food and select what she likes rather than rely on a server to tell tell the chef to hold the onions or to keep her portions separated on the plate. I still to be served without getting up and being first in line, but through the years I’ve discovered the financial advantages of what were once negatives.
I miss my dad but still seem to channel some of his good and bad habits. He was a great man and father, adopting two strangers in his home to raise as his own. I can not imagine a better way of life as a child that he and my mother provided. However, I always wondered why her never took us to Disney World when we would vacation in that area of Florida every year with my grandparents? My sister felt strongly that it was because of the huge lines, although he apparently did break down one year and agree to take my Grandmother there for an anniversary celebration. As I think about it, his attitude might have been different if he had a cell phone to keep him busy while standing there for hours.
I apparently have a DNA connection with over 79,000 people on Ancestry.com. It’s making me realize that the whole world is related in some way. I’d like to think that each of us should treat each other like brothers, but there’s many brothers that unfortunately don’t get along. I never had a true brother growing up, so I can’t directly relate, but I have friends that I love like a brother. According to my DNA testing, I’ve had four half-brothers but only one is still living. I made an effort to connect but there was no response. I check him out occasionally on Facebook to see if we have any similarities. Is that weird? I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but we are the product of the same mother and curiously share the same name, Jerry Lee. I think he looks like her, while I tend to resemble my birth father. At least, both of us still have our hair – though silver.
My birth mother had three brothers, including a set of twins, and four sisters. She was the youngest and at 86 now the only surviving sibling. My birth father had an older sister, but no one in the family knows if she is still alive. He took his life 8 years ago, seven years before I ever discovered his identity. I doubt that he knew that I ever existed. He left behind a wife of 60 years, five daughters, and a grandson. His only son died at age 16. My birth mother also experienced tragedy with her family, losing two sons. There was also a daughter that has not acknowledged my communications. I have, however, met four of my five half-sisters and their mother, so all my efforts to connect with my DNA relatives have not been in vain.
My only true father had a brother and one sister, while my loving mother was an only child. In addition to myself, four years later they adopted a daughter. Apparently, I did not do enough to discourage them from raising another. We were both given everything we wanted and I still call my sister every Monday to stay in touch. She has been in close touch with her birth mother for many years now, while I was reluctant to fully conduct a search. It wasn’t until my parents both passed away five years ago that I began to seek some answers. In the process, I did two DNA swabs and have built a tree of over 18,000 family connections. On Ancestry, I currently have 2,465 close matches (over 21 cM – centimorgans) and with 23andMe 1,274 more. I try to mark each of them on the Jerry Banister Family Tree with a green “DNA Match” graphic instead of a photo or silhouette. To clarify, in terms of DNA comparison, a centimorgan (abbreviated cM) is a unit for measuring genetic linkage. The higher the number – the closer the relationship.
As Christmas approaches, thoughts of family gatherings come to mind. It was a year ago at this time that I got together with my half-sisters in their hometown of Scipio, Indiana. I had already met two other DNA family members in Chicago and Indianapolis. Each was a memorable occasion and has resulted in Banister friendships. I’ve yet to meet with a male relative. Most of my DNA matches are with women, who tend to me more receptive to testing. My potential closest brotherhood of Banisters is limited to a half-nephew, the son of my half-sister, Gabe Burkman. His mother Julianna is my closest Ancestry DNA match at 1719 cM, while he is at a logically more distant 894. Terry Banister at 262, J.S. Sampson (218), SNI Snider (201), Jared Stinehart (169), Craig Banister (164), and Brandon Willard (162) are the nearest to being living “brothers.” Phillip Legg, Brandon Willard (again), Larry Bogue, and Benjamin Wilson are my closest male 23andMe DNA connections. I still can’t determine how Larry and Benjamin fit into the structure of my family tree. Where are you, brothers?
My Ancestry Jerry Lee Banister family tree has now exceeded 18,000 people, as I continue to find connections with each DNA match. It isn’t getting me any closer to a conversation with my birth mother, but it continues to support my unique relationship as her first son. She called me Jerry Lee, a name she also gave to her next son. Perhaps, she knew that I would get a different name once the adoption was finalized. I cannot not find a any evidence on my tree that it was a family name, and the most popular owner of this identity, Jerry Lee Lewis, didn’t even start recording until five years after my birth. It’s one of many mysteries that will probably never be solved without her acknowledgement of my existence.
I’m just grateful this holiday season to be alive, as I continue to quietly support right-to-life and adoption. In my case, it’s been a blessing after 68 years of enjoying life. All I would really want to say to her is thank you, but I still have questions. Considering the times, I’m sure she had little choice in keeping me. Abortions were dangerous and illegal, not to mention murder. There are circumstances when it may be justifiable, especially when the mother’s life is in danger, but adoption is always the best option. As I think about it, so far four other lives would also not exist if I had not been born. My son, three grandchildren and their potential offspring would have been tragically lost.
I would never have known my adoptive parents, their parents, and families. I would not know their friends, neighbors, or siblings. Instead, I would have had different brothers and sisters, grandparents, cousins, and acquaintances. These are the strangers that occupy most of my ancestral tree. It’s odd to realize that I’m researching people that I will probably never know. However, there have been a few that I’m now in touch with, trying to figure out if they are as interested in me, as I am with them?
I would still like to know how the relationship between my birth parents came about, and why it ended? It doesn’t matter to me if it was love or passion. I will make no judgments or question any decisions. I’d like them to know how I turned out, and that they should proud of what they created. I know that sounds a bit like Frankenstein, but I’m the successful product of many generations of Ban(n)isters, who descend from LaBorn (1801-1885) and beyond, once someone much smarter than me figures that out. This much we all have in common. In the meantime, the tree will continue to grow as I continue to find my place in the Ban(n)ister family, even if it’s just on paper and because we share genetic matter that none of us totally understands.
Thanksgiving is a special time for me. For most people it’s all about Pilgrims, Indians, and Turkey, plus a chance to give thanks. In my case, it’s the time of year that two people, attracted to each other, gave me life. What brought them together will probably always be a mystery? The one person who knows denies that it ever happened, but DNA evidence and adoption records show that it did. I’m the living proof!
Families gather together at this time of year. This couple shared the last name of Banister, with a great grandfather, David Banister (1837-1918), in common, but different great grandmothers. They obviously did not see themselves as related, as stated on the adoption questionnaire in my possession that she filled out. Perhaps it was a holiday family reunion that ultimately brought them together or simply their small town upbringing? They were in high school together, but just over two years apart in age. He had just graduated and enlisted in the Marines, while she had to drop out after her Junior year. I’m guessing that he never knew I existed given the secrecy of the pregnancy and the fact that she was in the care of the Suemma Coleman Home for Unwed Mothers. Just months after I was born, he was in San Diego at Camp Pendleton, married to another of their classmates. I was soon adopted, while he fought for our country in Korea, as did the only man who I called “Dad.” My birth mother went to work and eventually gave birth to a second son she also named Jerry Lee, along with three other children through two marriages. She currently lives in Seymour, Indiana, as does my half-brother. A half-sister has a home in Indianapolis, where I was born.
It’s that 10-month time frame between just before Thanksgiving 1950 and just after my August 1951 birthday that I’m most curious about. Did their relationship continue during this period or was it just a brief affair? She’s still alive at the age of 86 and could answer my questions if she was willing. He died nine years ago, but left me with six half-siblings and a widow that also knew nothing of my existence. DNA brought us all together last Christmas. For the first time in my 68 years of life, I honor the two people this Thanksgiving that brought me into the world. I’m now confident of their identities, as clearly determined this past year, and at least know some of the puzzle pieces of their relationship. I give extraordinary thanks to them for my existence and the other special couple that raised me as their own. Happy Thanksgiving.
There are hundreds of DNA strangers that I have discovered over the past few years through either Ancestry or 23andMe testing. My sometimes obsessive curiosity comes about as I try to find out how all of them are connected. I’ve recently put together a list of over 300 matches that range from close family to distant cousin and have tried to compare each of their family trees to mine. This is easy but tedious on Ancestry.com because “common ancestors” are highlighted. However, many of these matches have yet put together a tree or have made their personal relationships private to prevent any possible analysis.
Unfortunately, death is a genealogist’s best friend. This is because families publish obituaries that expose most family connections to the public. What was once private information is suddenly common knowledge if you’re either an Ancestry or newspaper subscriber. Digging through all this information has been accelerated through computerization and the internet. It makes detective work much easier than it was years ago when graveyards, wills, and family stories were the most accurate sources for information. There appears to be little respect for the dead anymore as we seek family history.
Adoptees like myself have been similarly protected by the legal system. For example, only recently have adoption records been released. This has allowed me to find the identities of my birth parents, a secret hidden for over 65 years. Paperwork like this in conjunction with DNA testing are putting biological families back together. In my case, it’s like Humpty Dumpty where the pieces are still there but they’ll never be put back together. The woman that gave birth to me when she was an unmarried 18-year old student that apparently still denies any role in my life. I have not communicated with her directly but have sent proof to close family members. She supposedly claims to not remember and vehemently denies my allegation. It’s obviously been an embarrassing secret that she’s carried or buried all these years. A close DNA match with a daughter exposed the birth father and recently acquired adoption records confirm his involvement. After not knowing anything all these decades, I should feel satisfied in just knowing the truth. Instead, I continue to seek more details.
I’m not broken or even damaged. I was probably better off as an adopted child and grew up to be happy and successful. I do feel that something is missing, as I continue to search DNA connections that will undoubtedly just confirm my suspicions. One Banister hooked-up with another Banister (distantly related) as he prepared to go to war. Their relationship took place over the Thanksgiving holidays and nine months later I was born. They went their separate ways, married other people, and raised families of their own. I was put into a loving home and have lived happily ever after, just like a fairy tale or a Mother Goose melody. Maybe I’m being a bit too dramatic?
In reality, I’ve found Ancestry DNA matches with one “close family” tie, 4 first cousins, fourteen second cousins, and 264 other cousins, along with hundreds more of really distant relatives that comprise the Jerry Banister Family Tree. It has recently exceeded 15,500 connections including additional 23andMe DNA cousin matches. It’s a giant Ban(n)ister puzzle that forms a fascinating historical web extending across the seas to England and Scotland. The million dollar question is whether or not I’ll ever satisfy my Humpty?:
“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.”
This year I’m experiencing a new level of family-ties, having recently added two son-in-laws. Granted, it’s only on the step-father level, but it’s still beginning to develop into a new marital challenge. I’ve noticed there are more conversations between mother and daughters now that the honeymoon is over. These are all non-DNA relationships as if that has anything to do with habits or abilities to get-along. However, I have somehow become part of these discussions, as my habits are now compared with their new husbands. It’s a personal violation of my space. For example, my son-in-law here in Portland was playing video games all day Sunday, and my wife commiserated by describing herself as a “football widow.” The topic of should the husband always accompany the wife to the grocery store was also bantered about? Hopefully, our sex lives won’t be compared!
I think that in the long run I’ll enjoy having son-in-laws if we can keep the wives from talking. I’m not sure exactly what we have in common yet, but that will come together over the many meals that we will share. They both seem to be better educated and more serious than I ever was at their age. Neither of them have the same sports interests that comes natural with my son. It will take a while for me to understand the nature of their careers. I also try to maintain a distant relationship with my wife’s daughters since their father is the primary male figure in their day-to-day growth. He will also most likely be the “favored” father-in-law simply because they are married to his daughters.
I doubt there will be grandchildren from either couple, having not married sooner. Both women are now in their late thirties and highly motivated in their careers. For me, three grandchildren through my son and his wife are more than I ever expected. I’m off to visit them in Florida in another month. I certainly enjoy spending time with my daughter-in-law that has brought a lot of joy into my son’s life. I’m sure she’s gotten an ear-full about me from my former wife in their discussions about the men in their life.
I’ve added my son-in-laws to my family tree that includes a combination of extended, adopted, and genetic families. As I work on all these personal connections, it’s disturbing to know that we all will someday be just a memory to future generations. It’s good to adding living relatives rather than spending all my time trying to identify “strangers” that may or may not have had an influence in my life. As time goes on, I hope my new son-in-laws are as happy with their new wives as I am with mine. Please, just keep us out of the conversation!
My wife felt like a football widow these past few days and admittedly I spent a lot of time in front of the “boob tube.” Don’t worry, I did get a 3-mile run in every day to extend my continuous streak to 3,977. Only 23 days until the four-thousand milestone and another 28 to hit the 11-year mark! While not on the run, two I.U. soccer wins and the BIG Championship did not make up for the I.U.football loss to Penn State. The Hoosier basketball victory over Troy in between was interrupted by our “Meet the neighbors” open house, but the Oregon Ducks game started after everyone left. The Indianapolis Colts game wasn’t televised, while the “Bad News” Bears weren’t worth watching. I will get reacquainted with my wife today on our way to “Matinee Monday.” I want to see Ford v Ferrari that in her opinion is just more sports, but agrees that it’s getting great reviews.
While I was sitting in front of the TV, I was also actively engaged on the internet. I won a 1956 Chicago White Sox autographed baseball through the Heritage auction house that included Sherm Lollar’s signature, along with Hall of Fame members Nellie Fox and Luis Aparicio. It was my first experience with on-line bidding, so I was fortunate to claim the prize after the two-week process. At the same time, I was busy with “Ban(n)ister World,” adding more names to my Jerry Banister Family Tree. I created a list of about 100 names with “Common Ancestors” among my Ancestry DNA matches and performed the tedious task of connecting each them to the tree branches. It will hopefully give me more stories to add to my “Diary of an Adoptee.” It’s all about my curious quest to identify those who gave me life and find out more about their extended Ban(n)ister family members
If you didn’t know it already, I’m an adopted child and running fanatic that turned out to be an Indiana University (I.U.) grad, media alum, sports nut, collector, movie lover, and hobby genealogist. I have time to do all of these interests in retirement, and write about them in this daily blog. This particular post combines all my favorite activities. My wife and I now live in Portland, Oregon but we’re both originally from Indiana. We’re considering a move to sunny Florida to establish a permanent retirement home. My son and three grand kids would then be nearby. In fact, we’re headed to Orlando in a month for a visit and to do some exploration of property on the Gulf Coast. My wife’s daughters will be concerned that their mother is so far away, but both of them are newlyweds with busy lives. I don’t know if our elderly schnauzer, Tinker, will be able to tolerate another move, but the younger one, Tally, will like running on the beach. In the meantime, we’ll continue to be retired world travelers, dining-out enthusiasts, wine drinkers, and party hosts. Hopefully, this all will give you a clearer picture of Who I Am?
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