I still have a lot of questions about my birth parents, as the answers continue to trickle in. This morning, I got a reply from Julie, whose Ancestry.com DNA match connects us as half-siblings. My wife and I went to visit her, three of her four sisters, and their mother down in Scipio, Indiana the day after Christmas. Since that exciting but overwhelming experience of meeting for the first time, we have maintained limited communication via text and e-mail. I sent her a lengthy e-mail a few weeks ago and had been anxiously but patiently waiting for a response. I have to admit that the thought of perhaps being too aggressive with my questions had finally silenced our new relationship. What do you say to a lady that shares the same genes with her father as a 67-year old total stranger? How personal of an impact should you make?

This is certainly a new experience for me, and I often don’t know what to say or do. I would obviously like to know more about this man that she calls dad and his probable link to me physically. Julie’s mom had to be somewhat stunned when I suddenly entered their lives, but she called me back after our visit. After dancing around the subject, I was able to ask her about any health problems that her husband might have experienced. This was something that adoptive parents do not have in common with their children, and an important factor in preventative healthcare. If indeed her husband Cecil was my birth father, I should know what to expect, especially since he had some lymphoma and heart issues. It felt like her candid answers were a forewarning of what might affect me in the future.

He was about my age of 67 when a tumor first appeared on the back of his leg. He was dead twelve years later. This is the first thing that came to mind, when I had my dizzy spell while running last week. As a result, I immediately requested to go to the ER. This might not have been the case even a year ago. Could this search for my birth parents have been for a life-saving reason?
As it turned out, my dizziness was not an indication of a stroke or even an ATI, and certainly there no signs of cancer.

I will probably never get any background information from the birth mother. Even though Edna is still alive, she continues to remain in denial of any connection to me. At least I know she’s reached the age of 85, but in the process has lost two sons at the ages of 33 and 42 respectively. Edna’s oldest son is currently 62, while her only daughter is 55. At this point, I have been unsuccessful getting in touch with either one.

They met at North Vernon High School that I was under the mistaken impression was named Muscatatuck. This is because when I met with Cecil’s family in Scipio they showed me some yearbook pictures of him and Edna. She was a Junior and he was Senior. As daughter Julie’s much anticipated reply to my e-mail indicated, Muscatatuck was simply the name of the yearbook. This explains why I could find no reference to Muscatatuck High School when I searched the web. Cecil transferred there for his final year of school because his father apparently had a drinking problem that led to frequent moves with new jobs. He had previously gone to nearby Butlerville High and took advantage of a newly formed football program at his new school.

Cecil and Marilyn, his wife-to-be, dated “on and off” during her last two years at North Vernon in 1950 and 1951. “He dated around a lot,” she indicated. Maybe this is why he earned the moniker “heart breaker” under his yearbook photo? The outcome appears to be me – born in August of 1951! Even my presumed birth mother, who attended the same school but never graduated, described him as “gregarious” in the adoption records. In April of 1951, Cecil joined the Marines and he and Marilyn were married in October, six months after her graduation. The newlyweds moved to California where he was stationed prior to his service in Korea.

At the same time they were married, certainly unaware of my recent birth, I was adopted by a special family from Elkhart, Indiana. This is where I grew up and went to high school. Marilyn and Cecil were married for 60 years up until his tragic death in 2011. My birth mother married for the first time in around 1955, but I can’t find any verification records.

If nothing else, I’ve at least learned to pronounce “Muscatatuck,” and now know that it is an Indian name believed to mean “winding waters.” What that has to do with North Vernon High School and their yearbook is beyond me? Most of us are still trying to figure out what being a “Hoosier” means, so a “Muscatatuck” is a similar mystery. I will continue to look into this, as I persist in digging up my roots.